TELEGIN. Yes, it’s quite a little while since they served us noodles.
Pause.
Quite a little while . . . This morning, Marina Timofeevna, I go to the village and the shopkeeper yells at me, “Hey, you freeloader!” And it made me feel so bitter!
MARINA. You pay it no mind, dearie. We’re all freeloaders on God. You and Sonya and Ivan Petrovich — no one sits idle, everyone gets down to work! Everyone . . . where is Sonya?
TELEGIN. In the garden. She and the doctor are on the move, looking for Ivan Petrovich. They’re afraid he might lay hands on himself.
MARINA. And where’s the pistol?
TELEGIN (in a whisper). I hid it in the cellar!
MARINA (with a broad grin). Bless us sinners!
Enter from outside VOINITSKY and ASTROV.
VOINITSKY. Leave me alone. (To Marina and Telegin.) Get out of here, leave me alone for just an hour! I can’t stand being spied on.
TELEGIN. This minute, Vanya. (Tiptoes out.)
MARINA. Goosie-goosie-gander, honk, honk, honk! (Gathers up the yarn and exits. )
VOINITSKY. Leave me alone!
ASTROV. With the greatest of pleasure, I should have left here long ago, but, I repeat, I will not leave until you return what you took from me.
VOINITSKY. I took nothing from you.
ASTROV. I’m in earnest—don’t detain me. It was time for me to leave hours ago.
VOINITSKY. Nothing, that’s what I took from you.
Both sit down.
ASTROV. Is that so? All right, I’ll wait a little longer, and then, sorry, I’ll have to use force. We’ll tie you up and frisk you. I mean this quite seriously.
VOINITSKY. Whatever you like.
Pause.
To act like such a fool; to shoot twice and miss both times! That’s something I’ll never forgive myself for!
ASTROV. When the urge to shoot came over you, you should have blown your brains out.
VOINITSKY (after a shrug). ‘S funny. I attempted murder, but they don’t arrest me, they don’t put me on trial. Which means they think I’m insane. (A malicious smile.) I am insane, and the sane are the ones who pass themselves off as professors, learned sages, to conceal their lack of talent, their obtuseness, their blatant heartlessness. The sane are the ones who marry old men and then cheat on them in broad daylight, I saw, I saw the way you embraced her!
ASTROV. Yes, sir, embraced, sir,35 what’s it to you? (Thumbs his nose at him.)
VOINITSKY (glancing at the door). No, the earth is insane for supporting you.
ASTROV. Now, that’s just stupid.
VOINITSKY. So what, I’m insane, not responsible in the eyes of the law. I have the right to say stupid things.
ASTROV. An old trick. You’re not insane, you’re just a crackpot. A baggy-pants clown.36 There was a time when I considered every crackpot to be psychotic, abnormal, but now I’m of the opinion that the normal human condition is to be a crackpot.37 You’re perfectly normal.
VOINITSKY (covers his face with his hands). The shame! If you only knew the shame I feel! This stabbing sense of shame can’t be compared to any pain there is. (Plaintively.) It’s unbearable. (Leans on the table.) What am I to do? What am I to do?
ASTROV. Not a thing.
VOINITSKY. Give me something! Oh my God . . . I’m forty-seven; suppose I live to be sixty, I still have another thirteen years to get through. A long time! How can I live through those thirteen years! What will I do, how will I fill them? Oh, you understand . . . (convulsively squeezes Astrov’s hand) you understand, if only one could live out the rest of one’s life in a new way somehow. If one could wake up on a bright, still morning and feel that life had begun anew, that all the past is forgotten, has blown away like smoke. (Weeps.) To begin a new life . . . Write me a prescription, how to begin . . . where to begin . . .
ASTROV (annoyed). Aw, cut it out! What new life! Our condition, yours and mine, is hopeless.
VOINITSKY. Is it?
ASTROV. I’m convinced of it.
VOINITSKY. Give me something . . . (Indicating his heart.) It’s searing inside.
ASTROV (shouts in anger). Stop it! (Assuaging him.) Those who will live a hundred, two hundred years from now and who will despise us because we lived our lives so stupidly and so gracelessly,—they may find a way to be happy, but we . . . For you and me there’s only one hope. The hope that when we lie in our coffins, we’ll be haunted by visions, maybe even pleasant ones. (After a sigh.) Yes, my boy. In the whole district there were only two decent, cultured men: you and I. But it took no more than ten years for humdrum life, despicable life to drag us down; its pestilential fumes poisoned our blood, and we became just as vulgar as everybody else. (Vigorously.) But don’t try to charm away the toothache with talking. You give back what you took from me.
VOINITSKY. I didn’t take anything from you.
ASTROV. What you took out of my portable medicine chest was a little jar of morphine.
Pause.
Listen, if you insist on putting an end to your life, no matter what, go out in the forest and shoot yourself there. But give back the morphine or else there’ll be talk, inquests, they’ll think I gave it to you . . . It’ll be bad enough having to perform your autopsy . . . You think that’ll be interesting?
Enter SONYA.
VOINITSKY. Leave me alone.
ASTROV (to Sonya). Sofiya Aleksandrovna, your uncle pilfered a little jar of morphine from my medicine chest and won’t give it back. Tell him that it is . . . basically, not an intelligent thing to do.
SONYA. Uncle Vanya, did you take the morphine?
Pause.
ASTROV. He took it. I’m sure of it.
SONYA. Give it back. Why do you terrorize us? (Tenderly.) Give it back, Uncle Vanya. I may be just as unhappy as you are, but I don’t give in to despair. I am patient and will be patient until my life comes to an end on its own . . . You be patient too.
Pause.
Give it back! (Kisses his hands.) Dear, wonderful uncle, dearest, give it back! (Weeps.) You’re kind, you’ll feel sorry for us and give it back. Have patience, uncle! Have patience!
VOINITSKY (gets a little jar from the table and gives it to Astrov). Go on, take it! (To Sonya.) But we must go to work quickly, do something quickly, or else I can’t . . . I can’t . . .
SONYA. Yes, yes, to work. As soon as we see them off, we’ll get down to work . ..(Nervously riffles through papers on the table.) We’ve let everything go.