VOINITSKY. He’s in there . . . spending the night in my room. Could be, could be . . . Anything could be!
YELENA ANDREEVNA. So you were drinking today? What for?
VOINITSKY. It makes me feel alive somehow . . . Don’t stop me, Hélène!
YELENA ANDREEVNA. You never used to drink and you never used to talk so much . . . Go to bed! You’re boring me.
VOINITSKY (clutching her hand). My darling . . . wonderful woman!
YELENA ANDREEVNA (annoyed). Leave me alone. Once and for all, this is disgusting. (Exits.)
VOINITSKY (alone). She walked out on me . . .
Pause.
Ten years ago I met her at my poor sister’s. Then she was seventeen and I was thirty-seven. Why didn’t I fall in love with her then and propose to her? After all it could have been! And now she’d be my wife . . . Yes . . . Now both of us would be awakened by the storm; she’d be frightened by the thunder and I’d hold her in my arms and whisper, “Don’t be afraid, I’m here.” Oh, marvelous thoughts, wonderful, it makes me laugh . . . but, my God, the thoughts are snarled up in my head . . . Why am I old? Why doesn’t she understand me? Her speechifying, indolent morality, indolent drivel about destroying the world — it makes me profoundly sick.
Pause.
Oh, how I’ve been cheated! I idolized that professor, that pathetic martyr to gout, I worked for him like a beast of burden! Sonya and I squeezed every last drop out of this estate; like grasping peasants we drove a trade in vegetable oil, peas, cottage cheese, stinted ourselves on crumbs so we could scrape together the pennies and small change into thousands and send them to him. I was proud of him and his learning, I lived, I breathed for him! Everything he wrote or uttered seemed to me to emanate from a genius . . . God, and now? Now that he’s retired you can see what his whole life adds up to: when he goes not a single page of his work will endure, he is utterly unknown, he’s nothing! A soap bubble! And I’ve been cheated . . . I see it—stupidly cheated . . .
Enter ASTROV in a frockcoat without a waistcoat or necktie; he is tipsy; TELEGIN follows him with a guitar.
ASTROV. Play!
TELEGIN. They’re all asleep, sir!
ASTROV. Play!
TELEGIN plays quietly.
ASTROV (to Voinitsky). You alone here? No ladies? (Arms akimbo, sings softly.) “My shack is fled, my fire is dead, I’ve got no place to lay my head . . .”23 Well, the storm woke me up. An impressive little downpour. What’s the time now?
VOINITSKY. How the hell should I know.
ASTROV. Could have sworn I heard the voice of Yelena Andreevna.
VOINITSKY. She was here a moment ago.
ASTROV. Magnificent woman. (Spots the medicine bottles on the table.) Medicine. Prescriptions galore! From Kharkov, from Moscow, from Tula . . . Every town in Russia must be fed up with his gout. Is he sick or faking?
VOINITSKY. Sick.
Pause.
ASTROV. Why’re you so sad today? Sorry for the Professor or what?
VOINITSKY. Leave me alone.
ASTROV. Or else, maybe, in love with Mrs. Professor?
VOINITSKY. She’s my friend.
ASTROV. Already?
VOINITSKY. What’s that mean — already?
ASTROV. A woman can be a man’s friend only in the following sequence: first, an acquaintance, next, a mistress, and thereafter a friend.
VOINITSKY. A vulgar philosophy.
ASTROV. What? Yes . . . Have to admit—I am turning vulgar. Y’see, I’m even drunk. Ordinarily I drink like this once a month. When I’m in this state, I become insolent and impertinent to the nth degree. Then nothing fazes me! I take on the most intricate operations and perform them beautifully; I outline the broadest plans for the future; at times like that I stop thinking of myself as a crackpot and believe that I’m doing humanity a stupendous favor . . . stupendous! And at times like that I have my own personal philosophy, and all of you, my little brothers, seem to me to be tiny insects . . . microbes. (To Telegin.) Waffles, play!
TELEGIN. Dearest friend, I’d be glad to play for you with all my heart, but bear in mind — the family’s asleep!
ASTROV. Play!
TELEGIN plays quietly.
ASTROV. A drink’s what I need. Let’s go back in, I think we’ve still got some cognac left. And when it’s light, we’ll head over to my place. Want to go for a rod? I’ve got an orderly24 who never says “ride,” always says, “rod.”25 Terrible crook. So, want to go for a rod? (Seeing SONYA enter.) ‘Scuse me, I’m not wearing a tie. (Quickly exits; TELEGIN follows him.)
SONYA. So, Uncle Vanya, you and the Doctor got drunk together again. Birds of a feather flock together. Well, he’s always been like that, but why should you? At your age it doesn’t suit you at all.
VOINITSKY. Age has nothing to do with it. When life has no reality, people live on illusions. After all it’s better than nothing.
SONYA. All our hay is mown, it rains every day, everything’s rotting, and you’re obsessed with illusions. You’ve given up farming for good . . . I’m the only one working, I’m completely worn out . . . (Alarmed.) Uncle, there are tears in your eyes!
VOINITSKY. What tears? Nothing of the sort . . . don’t be silly . . . Just now the way you looked like your poor mother. My precious . . . (Avidly kisses her hands and face.) My dear sister . . . my darling sister . . . Where is she now? If only she knew! Ah, if only she knew!
SONYA. What? Uncle, knew what?
VOINITSKY. Oppressive, wrong . . . Never mind . . . Later . . . Never mind . . . I’m going . . . (Goes.)
SONYA (knocks on the door). Mikhail Lvovich! Are you asleep? May I see you for a moment!
ASTROV (behind the door). Right away! (After a slight delay, he enters; he is now wearing a waistcoat and a necktie.) What can I do for you?
SONYA. Go ahead and drink, if it doesn’t make you sick, but, please, don’t let Uncle drink. It’s no good for him.
ASTROV. Fine. We won’t drink any more.
Pause.
I’ll go home right now. No sooner said than done. By the time the horses are hitched, dawn’ll be coming up.
SONYA. It’s raining. Wait till morning.
ASTROV. The storm’s passing over, we’ll only catch the tail end of it. I’m going. And, please, do not invite me to visit your father any more. I tell him it’s gout, and he says it’s rheumatism; I ask him to lie down, he sits up. And today he wouldn’t even see me.
SONYA. He’s spoiled. (Looks in the sideboard.) Would you like a bite to eat?
ASTROV. I suppose so, sure.
SONYA. I love midnight snacks. I think there’s something in the sideboard. In his lifetime, they say, he was a great success with women, and the ladies have spoiled him. Here, have some cheese.
Both stand at the sideboard and eat.