CHEBUTYKIN. I won’t work.
TUSENBACH. You don’t count.
SOLYONY. In twenty-five years you won’t be on this earth, thank God. In two or three years you’ll die of apoplexy, or I’ll fly off the handle and put a bullet through your brain, angel mine. (Takes a flask of perfume from his pocket and sprinkles his chest and hands.)
CHEBUTYKIN (laughs). As a matter of fact, I’ve never done a thing. Ever since I left the university, I haven’t lifted a finger, not even read a book, nothing but newspapers . . . (Takes from his pocket a second newspaper.) You see . . . I know by the papers that there was, let’s say, somebody named Dobrolyubov,10but what he wrote—I don’t know . . . God knows . . . (Someone can be heard knocking on the floor from a lower story.) There . . . They’re calling for me downstairs, someone’s come for me. I’ll be right there . . . hold on . . . . (Leaves hurriedly, combing his beard.)
IRINA. This is something he’s cooked up.
TUSENBACH. Yes. He went out with a look of triumph on his face, I’ll bet he’s about to deliver a present.
IRINA. How unpleasant!
OLGA. Yes, it’s awful. He’s always doing something silly.
MASHA. “On the curved seashore a green oak stands, a golden chain wound round that oak . . . A golden chain wound round that oak . . .”11 (Rises and hums quietly.)
OLGA. You’re in a funny mood today, Masha. (MASHA, humming, adjusts her hat.) Where are you off to?
MASHA. Home.
IRINA. Strange . . .
TUSENBACH. Leaving a saint’s day party!
MASHA. Doesn’t matter . . . I’ll be back this evening. Good-bye, my dearest . . . (Kisses Irina.) Best wishes once more, good health, be happy. In the old days, when Father was alive, every time we celebrated a saint’s day some thirty or forty officers would show up, there was lots of noise, but today there’s only a man and a half, and it’s as desolate as a desert . . . I’m off . . . I’m melancholeric12 today, I don’t feel very cheerful, and you musn’t mind me. (Laughs through tears.) Later we’ll have a talk, but good-bye for now, my darling, I’m off.
IRINA (put out). Well, that’s just like you . . .
OLGA (plaintively). I understand you, Masha.
SOLYONY. If a man philosophizes, you could call it philosophistry or even sophisticuffs, but if a woman philosophizes or two women, that you could call — Polly want a cracker!
MASHA. What do you mean by that, you dreadfully awful man?
SOLYONY. Not a thing. “He scarcely had time to gasp, When the bear had him in its grasp.”13
Pause.
MASHA (to Olga, angrily). Stop sniveling!
Enter ANFISA and FERAPONT with a layer cake.
ANFISA. Over here, dearie. Come on in, your feet’re clean. (To Irina.) From the County Council, from Protopopov, from Mikhail Ivanych . . . A cake.
IRINA. Thank you. Thank him. (Takes the cake.)
FERAPONT. How’s that?
IRINA (louder). Thank him!
OLGA. Nanny dear, give him some pie. Ferapont, go on, out there they’ll give you some pie.
FERAPONT. How’s that?
ANFISA. Let’s go, dearie, Ferapont Spiridonych. Let’s go . . . (Exits with FERAPONT.)
MASHA. I do not like Protopopov, that bear bearing gifts. It isn’t right to invite him.
IRINA. I didn’t invite him.
MASHA. Good girl.
Enter CHEBUTYKIN, followed by a soldier carrying a silver samovar; a low murmur of astonishment and displeasure.
OLGA (hides her face in her hands). A samovar! How dreadfully inappropriate.14 (Goes to the table in the reception room.)
IRINA.
Ivan Romanych, you darling, what are you doing!
Together
TUSENBACH
(
laughs
). I told you so.
MASHA.
Ivan Romanych, you’re simply shameless!
CHEBUTYKIN. My dears, my darlings, you’re the only ones I have, for me you’re more precious than anything on this earth. I’ll be sixty soon, I’m an old man, a lonely, insignificant old man . . . There’s nothing good about me, except this love for you, and if it weren’t for you, I’d be dead and gone long ago . . . (To Irina.) My dearest child, I’ve known you since the day you were born . . . I held you in my arms . . . I loved your poor mama . . .
IRINA. But why such expensive presents?
CHEBUTYKIN (through tears, angrily). Expensive presents . . . You’re the limit! (To the orderly.) Put the samovar over there . . . (Mimics.) Expensive presents . . . (The orderly takes the samovar into the reception room.)
ANFISA (crossing the drawing-room). My dears, a strange colonel! He’s already took off his overcoat, boys and girls, he’s coming in here. Ari-nushka, now you be a charming, polite little girl . . . (Going out.) Lunch should have been served a long time ago now . . . Honest to goodness . . .
TUSENBACH. Vershinin, I suppose.
Enter VERSHININ.
Lieutenant Colonel Vershinin.
VERSHININ (to Masha and Irina). May I introduce myself: Vershinin.15 Very, very pleased to meet you at long last. How you’ve grown! My! my!
IRINA. Do sit down, please. We’re glad to have you.
VERSHININ (merrily). I am delighted, delighted. But weren’t you three sisters? I remember three little girls. I’ve stopped remembering faces, but your father, Colonel Prozorov, had three little girls, that I distinctly remember and I saw them with my own eyes. How time flies. Dear, dear, how time flies!
TUSENBACH. The Colonel is from Moscow.
IRINA. From Moscow? You’re from Moscow?
VERSHININ. Yes, that’s where I’m from. Your late father was battery commander there, I was an officer in the same brigade. (To Masha.) Now your face I do seem to remember.
MASHA. And I remember yours—not at all!
IRINA. Olya! Olya! (Shouts into the reception room.) Olya, come here! (OLGA enters the drawing-room from the reception room.) Lieutenant Colonel Ver-shinin, it turns out, is from Moscow.