IVANOV. It’s all hocus-pocus, Misha . . . If you want us to stay friends, keep it to yourself.
BORKIN (sits at the table). Of course! . . . I knew it! You won’t do anything yourself, and you tie my hands . . .
III
The same, SHABELSKY, and LVOV.
SHABELSKY (coming out of the house with Lvov). Doctors are just like lawyers, the sole difference being, lawyers only rob you, while doctors rob you and kill you . . . Present company excepted. (Sits on a little settee.) Quacks, charlatans . . . Perhaps in some Utopia you can come across an exception to the general rule, but . . . over the course of a lifetime I’ve squandered about twenty thousand and never met a single doctor, who didn’t strike me as a barefaced impostor . . .
BORKIN (to Ivanov). Yes, you won’t do anything yourself and you tie my hands. That’s why we don’t have any money . . .
SHABELSKY. I repeat, present company excepted . . . There may be exceptions, although, even so . . . (Yawns.)
IVANOV (closing the book). Doctor, what have you got to say?
LVOV (with a glance at the window). The same thing I said this morning: she has to go to the Crimea at once. (Walks up and down the stage.)
SHABELSKY (bursts out laughing). The Crimea! . . . Why don’t you and I, Misha, hang out a shingle as medicos? It’s so easy . . . A woman sneezes or coughs because she’s bored, some Madame Angot or Ophelia,11 quick, take a scrap of paper and prescribe along scientific principles: first, a young doctor, then a trip to the Crimea, in the Crimea a strapping Tatar, on the way back a private compartment with someone who’s gambled away all his money but a cute little dandy all the same . . .
IVANOV (to the Count). Ah, stop pestering, you pest! (To Lvov.) To go to the Crimea you need money. Suppose I find it, she definitely refuses to take the trip . . .
LVOV. Yes, she does . . .
Pause.
BORKIN. Say, Doctor, is Anna Petrovna really so seriously ill that she has to go to the Crimea? . . .
LVOV (with a glance at the window). Yes, tuberculosis . . .
BORKIN. Psss . . . that’s no good . . . For some time now I’ve noticed from her face that she wasn’t long for this world.
LVOV. But . . . don’t talk so loudly . . . you can be heard in the house . . .
Pause.
BORKIN (sighing). This life of ours . . . Human life is like a posy, growing gloriously in a meadow, a goat comes along, eats it, end of posy . . . (Sings.) “Would you know my soul’s unrest . . .”12
SHABELSKY. Nonsense, nonsense, and more nonsense! . . . (Yawns.) Nonsense and monkeyshines . . .
Pause.
BORKIN. Well, gentlemen, I keep trying to teach Nikolay Alekseevich how to make money. I’ve let him in on one wonderful idea, but my pollen, as usual, has fallen on barren ground . . . You can’t hammer anything into him . . . Look at him: what’s he like? Melancholy, spleen, tedium, depression, heartache . . .
SHABELSKY (rises and stretches). You’re a brilliant thinker, you come up with something for everyone, you teach everyone how to live, but you’ve never taught me a single thing . . . Teach me, Mr. Know-it-all, show me a way to get ahead . . .
BORKIN (rises). I’m going for a swim . . . Good-bye, gentlemen . . . (to the Count.) You’ve got twenty ways to get ahead . . . If I were in your shoes, I’d make about twenty thousand in a week. (Going.)
SHABELSKY (goes after him). What’s the gimmick? Come on, teach me . . .
BORKIN. There’s nothing to teach. It’s very easy . . . (Returns.) Nikolay Alek-seevich, give me a ruble!
IVANOV silently gives him the money.
Merci! (To the Count.) You’ve still got a handful of aces.
SHABELSKY (going after him). Well, what are they? (Stretches.)
BORKIN. In your shoes, in a week I’d make about thirty thousand, if not more.
Exits with the Count.
IVANOV (after a pause.) Pointless people,13 pointless talk, the pressing need to answer stupid questions, Doctor, it’s all wearied me to the point of illness. I’ve become irritable, touchy, impatient, so petty that I don’t know what I am any more. Whole days at a time my head aches, I can’t sleep, ringing in my ears . . . And there’s absolutely nowhere to escape to . . . Absolutely nowhere . . .
LVOV. Nikolay Alekseevich, I have to have a serious talk with you.
IVANOV. Talk away.
LVOV. It’s concerning Anna Petrovna. (Sits.) She won’t consent to go to the Crimea, but she might if you went with her . . .
IVANOV (after thinking about it). If we were to go together, we’d need money. Besides, they certainly wouldn’t give me a leave of absence. I’ve already taken one leave this year . . .
LVOV. Let’s assume that’s true. Now, moving on. The most important treatment for tuberculosis is absolute peace and quiet, and your wife doesn’t have a moment’s peace. She’s constantly upset by the way you treat her. Excuse me, I’m concerned and I’ll speak bluntly. Your behavior is killing her.
Pause.
Nikolay Alekseevich, give me some cause to think better of you!
IVANOV. It’s all true, true . . . I’m probably terribly to blame, but my mind’s messed up, my soul is mired in a kind of indolence, and I can’t seem to understand myself. I don’t understand other people or myself. (With a glance at the window.) They can hear us, let’s go, let’s take a walk.
Gets up.
My dear friend, I should tell you the story from the very beginning. But it’s long and so complicated that I wouldn’t finish before morning.