SONYA (takes him by the arm and accompanies him). When are you coming back to see us?
ASTROV. Don’t know . . .
SONYA. A whole month again? . . .
ASTROV and SONYA go into the house. MARIYA VASILYEVNA and TELEGIN remain near the table. YELENA ANDREEVNA and VOINITSKY walk toward the veranda.
YELENA ANDREEVNA. Well, Ivan Petrovich, you behaved impossibly again. You had to provoke Mariya Vasilyevna with talk about perpetual motion! And today after lunch you picked a fight with Aleksandr again. It’s all so petty!
VOINITSKY. And what if I hate him?
YELENA ANDREEVNA. There’s no point in hating Aleksandr, he’s the same as anybody else. No worse than you.
VOINITSKY. If you could see your face, your movements . . . What an indolent life you lead! Ah, the indolence of it!
YELENA ANDREEVNA. Ah, indolent and boring as well! Everyone insults my husband, everyone is so sympathetic with me: unhappy creature, she’s got an old husband! This compassion for me — oh, how well I understand it! It’s what Astrov was saying just now: you all recklessly chop down forests, and soon nothing will be left on earth. The very same way you recklessly destroy a human being, and soon, thanks to you, there won’t be any loyalty or purity or capacity for self-sacrifice left on earth. Why can’t you look at a woman with indifference if she isn’t yours? Because — that doctor’s right— inside all of you there lurks a demon of destruction. You have no pity for forests or birds or women or one another . . .
VOINITSKY. I don’t like this philosophizing!
Pause.
YELENA ANDREEVNA. That doctor has a weary, sensitive face. An interesting face. Sonya, it’s obvious, likes him, she’s in love with him, and I understand why. Since I’ve been here, he’s dropped by three times now, but I’m inhibited and haven’t once had a proper chat with him, haven’t shown him much affection. He went away thinking I’m ill tempered. No doubt, Ivan Petrovich, that’s why we’re such friends, you and I, we’re both exasperating, tiresome people! Exasperating! Don’t look at me that way, I don’t like it.
VOINITSKY. How else can I look at you if I love you? You’re my happiness, life, my youth! I know, my chances of reciprocity are minute, practically nil, but I don’t want anything, just let me look at you, hear your voice . . .
YELENA ANDREEVNA. Hush, they can hear you!
Goes into the house.
VOINITSKY (following her). Let me talk about my love, don’t drive me away, and that alone will be my greatest joy . . .
YELENA ANDREEVNA. This is agony . . .
They go into the house.
TELEGIN strums the strings and plays a polka; MARIYA VASILYEVNA jots a note in the margin of the pamphlet.
Curtain
ACT TWO
Dining room in Serebryakov’s house. — Night.—We can hear the WATCHMAN tapping in the garden.[19]
SEREBRYAKOV sits in an armchair before an open window and drowses, and YELENA ANDREEVNA sits beside him and drowses too.
SEREBRYAKOV (waking). Who’s there? Sonya, you?
YELENA ANDREEVNA. I’m here.
SEREBRYAKOV. You, Lenochka . . . The pain’s unbearable!
YELENA ANDREEVNA. Your lap rug’s fallen on the floor. (Wraps up his legs.) Aleksandr, I’ll close the window.
SEREBRYAKOV. No, I’m suffocating . . . I just now started to doze off and dreamed that my left leg belonged to somebody else. I woke up with the agonizing pain. No, it isn’t gout, more like rheumatism. What’s the time now?
YELENA ANDREEVNA. Twenty past twelve.
Pause.
SEREBRYAKOV. In the morning see if we’ve got a Batyushkov[20] in the library. I think we have him.
YELENA ANDREEVNA. Huh? . . .
SEREBRYAKOV. Look for Batyushkov’s poems in the morning. I seem to remember we had a copy. But why am I finding it so hard to breathe?
YELENA ANDREEVNA. You’re tired. Second night without sleep.
SEREBRYAKOV. They say that Turgenev had gout that developed into angina pectoris.[21] I’m afraid I may have it too. Wretched, repulsive old age. Damn it to hell. When I got old, I began to disgust myself. Yes, and all the rest of you, I daresay, are disgusted to look at me.
YELENA ANDREEVNA. You talk about your old age as if it was our fault you’re old.
SEREBRYAKOV. You’re the first one to be disgusted by me.
YELENA ANDREEVNA moves away and sits at a distance.
Of course, you’re in the right. I’m no fool and I understand. You’re young, healthy, beautiful, enjoy life, while I’m an old man, practically a corpse. That’s it, isn’t it? Have I got it right? And, of course, it was stupid of me to live this long. But wait a while, I’ll soon liberate you all. I can’t manage to hang on much longer.
YELENA ANDREEVNA. I’m worn out . . . For God’s sake, be quiet.
SEREBRYAKOV. It turns out that thanks to me you’re all worn out, bored, wasting your youth, I’m the only one enjoying life and having a good time. Oh, yes, of course!
YELENA ANDREEVNA. Do be quiet! You’ve run me ragged!
SEREBRYAKOV. I’ve run all of you ragged. Of course.
YELENA ANDREEVNA (through tears). This is unbearable! Say it, what do you want from me?
SEREBRYAKOV. Not a thing.
YELENA ANDREEVNA. Well then, be quiet. For pity’s sake.
SEREBRYAKOV. Funny, isn’t it: let Ivan Petrovich start talking or that old she-idiot Mariya Vasilyevna — and nothing happens, everyone listens, but let me say just one word, watch how they all start feeling sorry for themselves. Even my voice is disgusting. Well, suppose I am disgusting, I’m selfish, I’m a tyrant—but surely in my old age haven’t I got a right to be selfish? Surely I’ve earned it? Surely, I ask you, I’ve earned the right to a peaceful old age, to have people pay me some attention?