ANFISA (lays her head on Olga’s bosom). My love, my precious, I toil, I work . . . I’m getting feeble, everybody says, get out! And where am I to go? Where? In my eighties. My eighty-second year . . .
OLGA. You sit down, Nanny dear . . . You’re tired, poor thing . . . (Helps her sit down.) Have a rest, my dear. How pale she is!
NATASHA enters.
NATASHA. Downstairs they’re saying somebody ought to hurry and organize a committee in aid of the fire victims. Why not? It’s a lovely idea. As a rule one ought to help the poor, it’s an obligation of the rich. Bobik and Sophie-kins are asleep, asleep as if nothing had happened. We’ve got so many people all over the place, wherever you go, the house is packed. There’s flu going around town now, I’m worried the children might catch it.
OLGA (not listening to her). You can’t see the fire from this room, it’s peaceful here . . .
NATASHA. Yes . . . I suppose I look a mess. (Before a mirror.) They say I’m putting on weight . . . it’s not true! Not a bit of it! And Masha’s asleep, worn out, poor thing . . . (To Anfisa, coldly.) Don’t you dare sit in my presence! Stand up! Get out of here! (ANFISA exits; pause.) And why you hold on to that old woman I cannot understand!
OLGA (startled). Excuse me, I can’t understand either . . .
NATASHA. There’s no reason for her to be here. She’s a peasant, ought to live in the country . . . It’s pampering them! I like a house to be in order! There shouldn’t be any useless people in a house. (Stroking Olga’s cheek.) You’re tired, poor dear! Our headmistress is tired! Why, when my Sophiekins is a big girl and goes to high school, I’ll be afraid of you.
OLGA. I’m not going to be headmistress.
NATASHA. They’ll pick you, Olga sweetie. The decision’s made.
OLGA. I’ll turn it down. I cannot . . . I haven’t the strength for it . . . (Drinks some water.) Just now you abused Nanny so rudely . . . Forgive me, I’m in no condition to put up with . . . It’s going dark before my eyes . . .
NATASHA (agitated). Forgive me, Olya, forgive . . . I didn’t mean to upset you.
MASHA gets up, takes a pillow and exits, angrily.
OLGA. Try to understand, dear . . . Perhaps we’ve had a strange upbringing, but I cannot tolerate this. That sort of behavior depresses me, it makes me ill . . . My heart just sinks!
NATASHA. Forgive me, forgive me . . . (Kisses her.)
OLGA. Any coarseness, even the slightest, an indelicately spoken word upsets me . . .
NATASHA. I often say too much, that’s true, but you must agree, my dear, she could live in the country.
OLGA. She’s been with us thirty years.
NATASHA. But she’s incapable of working now! Either I don’t understand you or else you refuse to understand me. She’s not fit for housework, she only sleeps or sits.
OLGA. Then let her sit.
NATASHA (in wonderment). What do you mean, let her sit? Why, she’s a servant, isn’t she! (Plaintively.) I don’t understand you, Olya. I have a nursemaid, I have a wetnurse, I have a parlor maid, a cook . . . what do we need this old woman for? What for?
Offstage the alarm bell is rung.
OLGA. I’ve aged ten years tonight.
NATASHA. We’ve got to thrash this out, Olya, once and for all . . . You’re at the high school, I’m at home, you have your teaching, I have my housework. And when I put in a word about servants, I know what I’m talking about; I know what I am talking about . . . And so tomorrow will see the last of that thieving old crow, that nasty old hag . . . (Stamps her foot.) that witch! . . . Don’t you dare provoke me! Don’t you dare! (Recollecting herself.) Honestly, if you don’t move downstairs, why, we’ll always be quarreling. It’s awful.
Enter KULYGIN.48
KULYGIN. Where’s Masha? It’s high time we went home. They say the fire’s dying down. (Stretching.) Only one ward was burnt, but the wind was so strong that it looked at first as if the whole town would go up in flames. (Sits down.) I’m worn out. Olechka, my dear . . . I often think: if it hadn’t been for Masha, I would have married you, Olechka. You’re very good . . . I’m exhausted. (Hearkening to something.)
OLGA. What?
KULYGIN. To make matters even worse, the doctor’s on a bender, he’s awfully drunk. To make matters even worse! (Stands up.) There, sounds like he’s coming in here . . . You hear him? Yes, in here . . . (Laughs.) What a one, honestly . . . I’ll hide. (Goes in the corner next to the wardrobe.) What a delinquent!
OLGA. For two years he hasn’t touched a drop, and now all of a sudden he goes and gets drunk . . . (Goes with NATASHA to the back of the room.)
CHEBUTYKIN enters; not staggering, seemingly sober, he crosses the room, stops, looks, then walks over to the washbasin and starts to wash his hands.
CHEBUTYKIN (surly). Damn ‘em all to hell . . . ram ‘em all . . .49They think I’m a doctor, know how to treat all sorts of ailments, but I don’t know a blessed thing, forgot anything I ever knew, don’t remember a thing, not a blessed thing.
OLGA and NATASHA leave, unnoticed by him.
To hell with ‘em. Last Wednesday I treated a woman at Zasyp — she died, and it’s my fault she died. Yes . . . I did know something twenty-five years ago or so, but now I don’t remember a thing. Not a thing . . . My head’s empty, my soul’s frozen. Maybe I’m not even a human being, but just seem to have arms and legs . . . and a head; maybe I don’t even exist at all, but it just seems to me I walk, eat, sleep. (Weeps.) Oh, if only I didn’t exist! (Stops weeping, surly.) Who the hell knows . . . Day before yesterday talk at the club; they’re dropping names, Shakespeare, Voltaire . . . I haven’t read ‘em, haven’t read ‘em at all, but I made a face to show I’d read ‘em. And the others did the same as me. Shabby and vulgar and vile! And that woman that died on Wednesday, I remembered her . . . and remembered it all, and my soul turned all twisted, repulsive, foul . . . I went out, started drinking . . .
IRINA, VERSHININ, and TUSENBACH enter; TUSENBACH is wearing civilian clothes, new and fashionable.
IRINA. Let’s sit down here. No one will come in here.
VERSHININ. If it hadn’t been for the soldiers, the whole town would have burnt down. Fine lads! (Rubs his hands in satisfaction.) Sterling fellows! ah, what fine lads!
KULYGIN (walking over to them). What time is it, gentlemen?
TUSENBACH. Four o’clock already. Getting light.
IRINA. Everyone’s sitting in the reception room, no one will leave. That Solyony of yours is sitting there too . . . (To Chebutykin.) You should be in bed, Doctor.
CHEBUTYKIN. Never mind, ma’am . . . Thank you, ma’am. (Combs out his beard.)
KULYGIN (laughs). You’re sploshified, Doctor! (Claps him on the shoulder.) Attaboy! In vino veritas,50 said the ancients.