page 643 / After: heard it all — . . . Here’s a handkerchief, dry your tears . . . I shall keep this handkerchief as a souvenir . . .
page 644 / Replace: Just now Ivan Ivanovich told me . . . in the sincerity of my respect
with: I was a witness to it all . . . My soul belongs to you! Believe in the sincerity of my respect for you
page 644 / After: Get away for me . . . — begone!
page 644 / Replace: Scenes XV and XVI
with:
XV
YELENA ANDREEVNA, MARYA VASILYEVNA, then SONYA, SEREBRYAKOV, ORLOVSKY, and ZHELTUKHIN. MARYA VASILYEVNA staggers out of the central door, screams and falls unconscious. SONYA enters and runs out the central door.
SEREBRYAKOV
ORLOVSKY What is it?
ZHELTUKHIN
SONYA’s screams are heard; she returns and cries out: “Uncle Georges has shot himself!” She, ORLOVSKY, SEREBRYAKOV, and ZHELTUKHIN run out the central door.
YELENA ANDREEVNA (moans). What for? What for?
FYODOR IVANOVICH appears in the door at right.
XVI
YELENA ANDREEVNA, MARYA VASILYEVNA, and FYODOR IVANOVICH.
FYODOR IVANOVICH (in the doorway). What’s going on?
YELENA ANDREEVNA (to him). Take me away from here! Throw me down a mineshaft! Kill me, abuse me! . . . . (Falls into his arms.)
FYODOR IVANOVICH (bursts into forced laughter, imitating an operatic Mephistopheles). Ha, ha, ha! (An octave lower.) Ha, ha, ha!
Curtain
Early version of Act Four.
ACT FOUR
A forest and the house by the mill, which Dyadin rents from Khrushchov.
I
SEMYON (carries a bucket), YULYA, then DYADIN.
YULYA (entering). Good afternoon, Semyon, God save you! Is Ilya Ilyich at home?
SEMYON. He is. He’s sleeping in the mill.
YULYA. Go and wake him.
SEMYON. Right away. (Exits.)
YULYA (alone; sits on the litle bench beneath the window and sighs deeply.). Ugh! Some people sleep, others enjoy themselves, but I spend my days on the go, on the go . . . I think I’m the unhappiest person on earth. God won’t let me die. (Sighs even more deeply.) Lord, how can there be such foolish people as that Waffles! I was driving just now past his barn, and a little black piglet ran out the door . . . If those pigs start rooting in other people’s grain sacks, he’ll be hearing about it . . .
Enter DYADIN, putting on his frockcoat.
DYADIN. Is it you, Yuliya Stepanovna? Sorry, I’m in a state of undress . . . After dinner I dropped off in the arms of Morpheus.3
YULYA. Good afternoon, Ilya Ilyich.
DYADIN. Forgive me for not inviting you inside . . . My house is in a bit of a mess and so on . . . If you like, please come to the mill . . .
YULYA. I’ll just sit here. Ilya Ilyich, what’s the matter with you? Why do you mix up my sacks?
DYADIN. What you do mean by that remark?
YULYA. Our sacks are bought at Kharlamov’s, and they’re marked with the letter X, but you sent us ones with a V on them.
DYADIN. Ce sont des trivia. It’s of no importance. They can be changed at any moment in time.
YULYA. Then please change them. Here’s why I’ve dropped in on you, Ilya Ilyich. Lyonechka and the Professor, for some recreation, want to have a picnic here at your mill today, a tea party . . .
DYADIN. Extremely gratified.
YULYA. I came ahead of them. They’ll be here soon. Please arrange for a table to be set up, oh and a samovar, of course . . . Have Senka get the baskets of food out of my carriage.
DYADIN. Can do.
Pause.
What’s it like now? How are things over there?
YULYA. Bad, Ilya Ilyich. Such a pack of troubles you can’t imagine. You know, of course, that the Professor and Sonya are living with us now? After Yegor Petrovich laid hands on himself, they got afraid to live in his house. The Professor is so done in, keeps losing weight, and stays mute, mute, mute . . . Sonichka, poor thing, keeps crying, and you can’t pry a word out of her. By day there’s no problem, but when night falls, they all gather in one room and sit there until dawn. They’re all terrified. They’re afraid that Yegor Petrovich is haunting the dark corners . . .
DYADIN. Superstition. I don’t believe in ghosts, or even spiritualism. And do they mention Yelena Andreevna?
YULYA. Of course, they mention her. She ran off with Fedinka, didn’t she! Did you hear?
DYADIN. Yes, a subject that deserves treatment by a painter of shipwrecks and tempests . . . She up and cleared out. (Laughs.) What a story! All the servants in the courtyard and the paysans in the countryside saw how he drove her away in his calèche. With one arm he’s holding her in an unconscious state, and with the other he’s lashing the horses with all his might, like Phoebus,4 borne aloft in a chariot. And for all that he only did five miles. He halted not far from here, in the Count’s woods, near old lady Yakun-chikha’s cabin, and went to get Yelena Andreevna a drink of water. While he went for the water, she was in such a state. He came back, and there wasn’t a trace of her. He goes all over the place — nowhere to be found! And what do you think? In his wrath, seeing that his Don Juanesque scheme had not succeeded, he broke in Yakunchikha’s door, all the windows, smashed the crockery and gave Yakunchikha herself a couple of black eyes. It’s fascinating!
YULYA. So she’s lost now. Nobody knows where . . . Maybe she went away, but maybe, in her desperation . . . all sorts of things might happen!
DYADIN. God is merciful, Yuliya Stepanovna! Everything will turn out for the best. I must confess, my heart is so full of bliss, so full of bliss! I am so boundlessly happy that, without recourse to fancy phrases, I can express it to you in the words of a certain poet . . .
YULYA (interrupting him). Why are you that way?
DYADIN. I don’t know . . . I mean I don’t have the right to explain it to you! I don’t have the right, although I’m ablaze with impatience . . .
Enter KHRUSHCHOV with a portfolio and a case with drawing implements.
II
The same and KHRUSHCHOV
KHRUSHCHOV. Hey! Anybody here? Semyon!
DYADIN. Look over here!
KHRUSHCHOV. Ah! . . . Good afternoon, Yulichka!
YULYA. Good afternoon, Mikhail Lvovich.
KHRUSHCHOV. I’ve dropped by your place again, Ilya Ilyich, to get some work done. Sitting at home’s no good. Tell them to set up my table under this tree as they did yesterday, oh, and tell them to get two lamps ready. It’s getting dark already . . .
DYADIN (goes). Fine. At your service, your honor.