VERSHININ (after a glance at his watch). We’ll be leaving any minute, Olga Sergeevna. My time’s up.
Pause.
I wish you the best of luck, the best . . . Where’s Mariya Sergeevna?
IRINA. She’s somewhere in the garden. I’ll go find her.
VERSHININ. Please do. I’m in a hurry.
ANFISA. I’ll go and look too. (Shouts.) Mashenka, yoo-hoo! (Goes with IRINA to the bottom of the garden.) Yoo-hoo, yoo-hoo!
VERSHININ. Everything must come to an end. Here we are saying good-bye. (Looks at his watch.) The town gave us a kind of lunch, we drank champagne, the mayor made a speech, I ate and listened, but in spirit I was here with you . . . (Looks around the garden.) I’ve grown accustomed to you.
OLGA. Will we ever meet again?
VERSHININ. I don’t suppose so.
Pause.
My wife and both my little girls will stay on here another two months or so; please, if anything happens or if anything’s needed . . .
OLGA. Yes, yes, of course. Don’t worry.
Pause.
Tomorrow there won’t be a single military man left in town, it will all have turned into a memory, and, of course, a new life will begin for us . . .
Pause.
Nothing works out the way we’d like it to. I didn’t want to be a headmistress, but even so I am one. Which means, not being in Moscow.
VERSHININ. Well . . . Thank you for everything. Forgive me, if anything wasn’t right . . . I talked a lot, an awful lot—and forgive me for it, don’t think badly of me.
OLGA (wipes away tears). What’s keeping Masha . . .
VERSHININ. What more is there to say at parting? How about philosophizing? . . . (Laughs.) Life is hard. It appears to many of us to be lackluster and hopeless, but even so, you must admit, it will grow ever brighter and easier, and apparently the time’s not far off when it will be very bright. (Looks at his watch.) My time’s up, it’s time! In olden days humanity was preoccupied with wars, its whole existence filled with campaigns, invasions, victories, now all that’s out of date, but it’s left behind an enormous vacuum, which so far has been impossible to fill; humanity is passionately seeking and will find it at last. Ah, the sooner the better!
Pause.
You know, if only hard work were supplemented by education, and education by hard work. (Looks at his watch.) However, my time’s up . . .
OLGA. Here she comes.
MASHA enters.
VERSHININ. I came to say good-bye . . .
OLGA draws somewhat apart, not to intrude on their farewells.
MASHA (gazes into his face). Good-bye . . . (A long, drawn-out kiss.)
OLGA. That’ll do, that’ll do . . .
MASHA sobs vehemently.
VERSHININ. Write to me . . . Don’t forget! Let me go . . . it’s time . . . Olga Sergeevna, take her, I have to . . . It’s time . . . I’m late . . . (Much affected, he kisses Olga’s hand, then embraces Masha once again and leaves quickly.)
OLGA. That’ll do, Masha! Stop it, dear . . .
Enter KULYGIN.
KULYGIN (in consternation). Never mind, let her go on crying, let her . . . My good Masha, my kind Masha . . . You’re my wife, and I’m happy, no matter what went on here . . . I’m not complaining, I’m not reproaching you in the least . . . Olya there is a witness . . . Let’s start over again living as we used to, and I won’t say a single word to you, no recriminations . . .
MASHA (controlling her sobbing). On the curved seashore a green oak stands, a golden chain wound round that oak . . . A golden chain wound round that oak . . . I’m losing my mind . . . On the curved seashore . . . a green oak stands . . .73
OLGA. Calm down, Masha . . . Calm down . . . Get her some water.
MASHA. I’m not crying any more.
KULYGIN. She’s not crying any more . . . she’s being considerate . . .
A muffled shot is heard in the distance.
MASHA. On the curved seashore a green oak stands, a golden chain wound round that oak . . . A golden chain wound round that oak . . . A green cat stands . . . A green oak stands . . . I’m raving . . . (Drinks some water.) Life’s a failure . . . I don’t want anything now . . . I’ll be all right presently . . . Doesn’t matter . . . What does that mean, on the curved seashore? Why is that phrase in my head? My thoughts are running wild.
IRINA enters.
The harp- and fiddle-playing can be heard far away down the street.
OLGA. Calm down, Masha. Now, there’s a good girl . . . Let’s go inside.
MASHA (angrily). I will not go in there. (Sobs, but instantly stops.) I don’t go in that house any more and I won’t go . . .
IRINA. Let’s sit down together, at least let’s not say anything. After all, I’m going away tomorrow . . .
Pause.
KULYGIN. Yesterday in the sophomore class I took this moustache and beard away from some smart-aleck . . . (Puts on the moustache and beard.) Looks like the German teacher . . . (Laughs.) Doesn’t it? Those kids are a caution.
MASHA. Actually it does look like your German.
OLGA (laughs). Yes.
MASHA weeps.
IRINA. That’s enough, Masha!
KULYGIN. A lot like him . . .
Enter NATASHA.
NATASHA (to the Parlor Maid). What? Protopopov’s going to sit with Sophiekins for a while — Mikhail Ivanych — and Andrey Sergeich can take Bobik for an airing. So much fuss over children . . . (To Irina.) You’re going away tomorrow, Irina — such a shame. Do stay just another little week at least. (Shrieks on seeing Kulygin; he laughs and removes the moustache and beard.) Why, you gave me quite a shock! (To Irina.) I’ve got used to you and do you think parting from you is easy for me? I’ve told them to move Andrey and his fiddle into your room — he can saw away in there! — and we’ll put Sophiekins in his room. A wonderful, fantastic baby! Such a little cutie! Today she stared at me with her little peepers and went— “Mama.”
KULYGIN. A beautiful baby, true enough.
NATASHA. In other words, I’ll be all on my own here tomorrow. (Sighs.) First of all I’ll have them chop down that row of fir trees, then that maple over there. In the evenings it’s so eerie, unattractive . . . (To Irina.) Dear, that belt doesn’t suit your coloring at all . . . it’s in bad taste. You need something perkier. And then I’ll have them plant posies everywhere, posies, and they’ll give off such a fragrance . . . (Sternly.) Why is there a fork lying on this bench? (Crossing into the house, to the Parlor Maid.) Why is there a fork lying on a bench, I’m asking you? (Shouts.) Hold your tongue!