YEPIKHODOV. To take me to task, if I may venture the expression, you can’t.
VARYA. I’m not taking you to task, I’m just telling you. But you know all you do is walk around instead of attending to business. We keep a bookkeeper but nobody knows what for.
YEPIKHODOV (offended). Whether I work or whether I walk or whether I eat or whether I play billiards may be criticized only by my elders and betters who know what they’re talking about.
VARYA. How dare you say such things to me! (Flying into a rage.) How dare you? You mean I don’t know what I’m talking about? Get out of here! This minute!
YEPIKHODOV (alarmed). Please express yourself in a more refined manner.
VARYA (beside herself). This very minute, out of here! Out! (He goes to the door, she follows him.) Tons of Trouble! Don’t draw another breath here! Don’t let me set eyes on you!
YEPIKHODOV has gone, behind the door his voice: “I’m going to complain about you.”
So, you’re coming back? (Seizes the stick Firs left near the door.) Come on . . . come on . . . come on, I’ll show you . . . Well, are you coming? Are you coming? Here’s what you get . . . (Swings the stick.)
At the same moment, LOPAKHIN enters.
LOPAKHIN. My humble thanks.
VARYA (angrily and sarcastically). Sorry!
LOPAKHIN. Never mind, ma’am. Thank you kindly for the pleasant surprise.
VARYA. Don’t mention it. (Starts out, then looks back and asks gently.) I didn’t hurt you?
LOPAKHIN. No, it’s nothing. The bump is going to be enormous, though.
Voices in the ballroom: “Lopakhin’s here, Yermolay Alekseich!”
PISHCHIK. Sights to be seen, sounds to be heard . . . (He and LOPAKHIN exchange kisses.) There’s cognac on your breath, my dear boy, apple of my eye. But we were making merry here too.
Enter LYUBOV ANDREEVNA.
LYUBOV ANDREEVNA. Is that you, Yermolay Alekseich? Why the delay? Where’s Leonid?
LOPAKHIN. Leonid Andreich came back with me, he’s on his way . . .
LYUBOV ANDREEVNA (agitated). Well, what? Was there an auction? Say something!
LOPAKHIN (embarrassed, afraid to reveal his glee). The auction was over by four o’clock . . . We missed the train, had to wait till half-past nine. (Sighs heavily.) Oof! My head’s a little woozy . . .
Enter GAEV; his right hand is holding packages, his left is wiping away tears.
LYUBOV ANDREEVNA. Lyonya, what? Well, Lyonya? (Impatiently, tearfully.) Hurry up, for God’s sake . . .
GAEV (not answering her, only waves his hand to Firs, weeping). Here, take this . . . There’s anchovies, smoked herring . . . I haven’t had a thing to eat all day . . . What I’ve been through!
The door to the billiard room opens. We hear the click of the balls and YASHA’s voice: “Seven and eighteen!” GAEV’s expression alters, he stops crying.
I’m awfully tired. Firs, help me change. (Exits through the ballroom, followed by FIRS.)
PISHCHIK. What about the auction? Tell us!
LYUBOV ANDREEVNA. Is the cherry orchard sold?
LOPAKHIN. Sold.
LYUBOV ANDREEVNA. Who bought it?
LOPAKHIN. I bought it.
Pause. LYUBOV ANDREEVNA is overcome; she would fall, were she not standing beside an armchair and a table. VARYA removes the keys from her belt, throws them on the floor in the middle of the drawing room and exits.
LOPAKHIN. I bought it! Wait, ladies and gentlemen, do me a favor, my head’s swimming, I can’t talk . . . (Laughs.) We got to the auction, Derig-anov’s there already. Leonid Andreich only had fifteen thousand, and right off Deriganov bid thirty over and above the mortgage. I get the picture, I pitched into him, bid forty. He forty-five, I fifty-five. I mean, he kept upping it by fives, I by tens . . . Well, it ended. Over and above the mortgage I bid ninety thousand, it was knocked down to me. Now the cherry orchard’s mine. Mine! (Chuckling.) My God, Lord, the cherry orchard’s mine! Tell me I’m drunk, out of my mind, that I’m making it all up . . . (Stamps his feet.) Don’t laugh at me! If only my father and grandfather could rise up from their graves and see all that’s happened, how their Yermolay, beaten, barely literate Yermolay, who used to run around barefoot in the wintertime; how this same Yermolay bought the estate, the most beautiful thing in the world. I bought the estate where my grandfather and father were slaves, where they weren’t even allowed in the kitchen. I’m dreaming, it’s a hallucination, it only looks this way . . . This is a figment of your imagination, veiled by shadows of obscurity . . .63 (Picks up the keys, smiles gently.) She threw down the keys, she wants to show that she’s no longer in charge here . . . (Jingles the keys.) Well, it doesn’t matter.
We hear the orchestra tuning up.
Hey, musicians, play, I want to hear you! Come on, everybody, see how Yermolay Lopakhin will swing an axe in the cherry orchard, how the trees’ll come tumbling to the ground! We’ll build cottages, and our grandchildren and great-grandchildren will see a new life here . . . Music, play!
The music plays, LYUBOV ANDREEVNA has sunk into a chair, crying bitterly.
(Reproachfully.) Why, oh, why didn’t you listen to me? My poor, dear lady, you can’t undo it now. (Tearfully.) Oh, if only this were all over quickly, if somehow our ungainly, unhappy life could be changed quickly.
PISHCHIK (takes him by the arm; in an undertone). She’s crying. Let’s go into the ballroom, leave her alone . . . Let’s go . . . (Drags him by the arm and leads him into the ballroom.)
LOPAKHIN. So what? Music, play in tune! Let everything be the way I want it! (Ironically.) Here comes the new landlord, the owner of the cherry orchard! (He accidentally bumps into a small table and almost knocks over the candelabrum.) I can pay for everything!
Exits with PISHCHIK.
No one is left in the ballroom or drawing-room except LYUBOV ANDREEVNA, who is sitting, all hunched up, weeping bitterly. The music is playing softly. ANYA and TROFIMOV hurry in. ANYA goes to her mother and kneels before her. TROFIMOV remains at the entrance to the ballroom.
ANYA. Mama! . . . Mama, you’re crying? Dear, kind, good Mama, my own, my beautiful, I love you . . . I bless you. The cherry orchard’s sold, it’s gone now, that’s true, true, true, but don’t cry, Mama, you’ve still got your life ahead of you, you’ve still got your good pure heart . . . Come with me, come, dearest, let’s go away from here, let’s go! . . . We’ll plant a new orchard, more splendid than this one, you’ll see it, you’ll understand, and joy, peaceful, profound joy will sink into your heart, like the sun when night falls, and you’ll smile, Mama! Let’s go, dearest! Let’s go! . . .