TRIGORIN. No, let’s go together.
ARKADINA. If you say so. Together, whatever you like, together . . . (Pause. TRIGORIN jots something in his notebook.) What are you up to?
TRIGORIN. This morning I heard a good phrase: “the virgin grove” . . . It’ll come in handy. (Stretching.) Which means, we’re on our way? More train compartments, stations, lunch counters, fried food, smalltalk . . .
SHAMRAEV (enters). I have the melancholy honor of announcing that the horses are here. The time has come, dear lady, to go to the station; the train pulls in at two-o-five. By the way, Irina Nikolaevna, do me a favor, you won’t forget to find out what’s become of the actor Suzdaltsev these days? Is he alive? Is he well? Many’s the drink we downed together once upon a time . . . In “The Great Mail Robbery” his acting was inimitable . . . I recall he was acting at the time in Elizavetgrad with the tragedian Izmailov, another remarkable character73. . . Don’t rush yourself, dear lady, we can spare another five minutes. Once in some melodrama they were playing conspirators, and when they were suddenly caught, the line was supposed to go: “We’ve fallen into a trap,” but Izmailov said, “We’ve trawlen into a flap” . . . (Roars with laughter.) Into a flap!
While he is speaking, YAKOV fusses around the luggage, a HOUSEMAID brings ARKADINA her hat, coat, parasol, gloves; everyone helps Arkadina to dress. The COOK peers in through the door left, and after waiting a bit he enters hesitantly. POLINA ANDREEVNA enters, then SORIN and MEDVEDENKO.
POLINA ANDREEVNA (with a tiny basket). Here are some plums for your trip . . . Nice and ripe. You might want something for your sweet tooth.
ARKADINA. That’s very kind of you, Polina Andreevna.
POLINA ANDREEVNA. Good-bye, my dear! If anything wasn’t right, do forgive me. (Weeps.)
ARKADINA (embraces her). Everything was fine, just fine. Only you mustn’t cry.
POLINA ANDREEVNA. Time’s running out for us!
ARKADINA. What can we do?
SORIN (in an overcoat with a cape, wearing a hat and carrying a walking stick, enters from the door left; crosses the room). Sister, it’s time. You better not be late, when all’s said and done. I’m going to get in. (Exits.)
MEDVEDENKO. And I’ll go to the station on foot . . . to see you off. I’m a fast walker . . . (He exits.)
ARKADINA. Till we meet again, my dears . . . If we’re alive and well, we’ll see you again next summer . . . (The HOUSEMAID, YAKOV, and the COOK kiss her hand.) Don’t forget me. (Hands the COOK a ruble.) Here’s a ruble for the three of you.
COOK. Thank you kindly, ma’am. Have a pleasant trip! Mighty pleased to serve you!
YAKOV. God bless and keep you!
SHAMRAEV. Brighten our days with a little letter! Good-bye, Boris Alekseevich.
ARKADINA. Where’s Konstantin? Tell him that I’m going. I’ve got to say good-bye. Well, think kindly of me. (To Yakov.) I gave a ruble to the cook. It’s for the three of you.
Everyone goes out right. The stage is empty. Offstage there is the sort of noise that accompanies people seeing each other off. The HOUSEMAID returns to get the basket of plums from the table, and exits again.
TRIGORIN (returning). I forgot my stick. I think it’s out on the veranda. (Crosses left and at the door runs into NINA, entering.) Ah, it’s you? We’re leaving.
NINA. I felt we would meet again. (Excited.) Boris Alekseevich, I’ve made up my mind once and for all, the die is cast, I’m going on the stage. Tomorrow I’ll be gone, I’m leaving my father, abandoning everything, starting a new life . . . I’m traveling like you . . . to Moscow. We shall meet there.
TRIGORIN (glancing around). Stay at the Slav Bazaar Hotel . . . Let me know the minute you’re there . . . Molchanovka Street,74 the Grokholsky Apartments . . . I’m in a hurry . . .
Pause.
NINA. Just one more minute.
TRIGORIN (in an undertone). You’re so beautiful . . . Oh, how wonderful to think that we’ll be seeing one another soon! (She lays her head on his chest.) I’ll see these marvelous eyes again, that indescribably beautiful, tender smile . . . these delicate features, this look of angelic purity . . . My dearest . . . (A prolonged kiss.)
Curtain
ACT FOUR
Between Acts Three and Four two years have elapsed.
One of the drawing-rooms in Sorin’s house, turned by Konstantin Treplyov into a workroom. Left and right doors, leading to inner rooms. Directly facing us, a glass door to the veranda. Besides the usual drawing-room furniture, in the right corner is a writing desk, near the left door a Turkish divan, a bookcase full of books, books on the windowsills, on chairs.—Evening. A single lamp with a shade is lit. Semi-darkness. We can hear the trees rustling and the wind wailing in the chimney. A WATCHMAN raps on a board.75 MEDVEDENKO and MASHA enter.
MASHA (shouts out). Konstantin Gavrilych! Konstantin Gavrilych! (Looking around.) Nobody here. The old man never stops asking, where’s Kostya, where’s Kostya . . . Can’t live without him . . .
MEDVEDENKO. Afraid to be left alone. (Listening hard.) What awful weather! For two whole days now.
MASHA (igniting the flame in a lamp). There are waves on the lake. Enormous ones.
MEDVEDENKO. It’s dark outside. Somebody should tell them to pull down that stage in the garden. It stands there bare, unsightly, like a skeleton, and the scene curtain flaps in the wind. When I was going by last night, I thought somebody was on it, crying . . .
MASHA. You don’t say . . .
Pause.
MEDVEDENKO. Let’s go home, Masha!
MASHA (shakes her head no). I’ll stay and spend the night here.
MEDVEDENKO (pleading). Masha, let’s go! Our baby’s starving, I’ll bet!
MASHA. Don’t be silly. Matryona will feed him.
Pause.
MEDVEDENKO. It’s a shame. The third night now without his mother.
MASHA. You’re getting tiresome. In the old days at least you used to talk philosophy, but now it’s all baby, home, baby, home — that’s all anybody hears out of you.
MEDVEDENKO. Let’s go, Masha!
MASHA. Go yourself.
MEDVEDENKO. Your father won’t give me any horses.
MASHA. He will. Ask him and he’ll give you.
MEDVEDENKO. Maybe so, I’ll ask. That means, you’ll be home tomorrow?
MASHA (takes snuff). All right, tomorrow. You’re a pest . . .
Enter TREPLYOV and POLINA ANDREEVNA; TREPLYOV is carrying pillows and a blanket, and POLINA ANDREEVNA bedclothes; they lay them on the Turkish divan, after which TREPLYOV goes to his desk and sits.