VENGEROVICH JR. (sprawls on the ground). Ugh! It’s stupid . . . stupid!
OSIP (enters). Comedians! That wouldn’t happen to be you, your excellency? (Bows.) What brings you to our neck o’ the woods?
ANNA PETROVNA. Is that you, Osip? Greetings! Were you prying? Spying? (Takes him by the chin.) Saw it all?
OSIP. All.
ANNA PETROVNA. Then how come you’re so pale? Eh? (Laughs.) You in love with me, Osip?
OSIP. If you say so . . .
ANNA PETROVNA. In love?
OSIP. I can’t figure you out . . . (Weeps.) I thought you were a saint . . . If you had ordered me to jump in the fire, I’d’ve jumped in the fire . . .
ANNA PETROVNA. Then why didn’t you walk to Kiev?
OSIP. What do I care about Kiev? I thought you were a saint . . . For me there were no saints except you . . .
ANNA PETROVNA. That’ll do, you nitwit . . . Bring me some more little hares . . . I am accepting gifts again . . . Good-bye for now . . . Come to me tomorrow, and I’ll give you some money: you can take the train to Kiev . . . You going? Good-bye . . . Don’t you dare lay a finger on Platonov on my land! You hear me?
OSIP. I don’t take orders from you any more . . .
ANNA PETROVNA. You don’t say so, goodness me! You don’t insist that I enter a nunnery? As if it’s his business! . . . Well, well . . . He’s crying . . . Are you a little boy or what? That’ll do . . . When he’s about to come to me, fire a shot! . . .
OSIP. At him?
ANNA PETROVNA. No, in the air . . . Good-bye, Osip! A loud shot! Will you fire it?
OSIP. I will.
ANNA PETROVNA. There’s a clever boy . . .
OSIP. Only he won’t go to you . . . He’s with his wife now.
ANNA PETROVNA. That’s just talk . . . Good-bye, cutthroat! (Runs out.)
SCENE XI
OSIP and VENGEROVICH JR.
OSIP (flings his cap on the ground and weeps). It’s over! It’s all over, and the hell with it!
VENGEROVICH JR (on the ground). What is he saying?
OSIP. I saw all that stuff, I heard it! My eyes popped out of my head, somebody was pounding a great big hammer in my ears! I heard it all! How can I keep from killing him, when I want to tear him to shreds, crush ‘im . . . . (Sits on the embankment with his back to the schoolhouse.) Got to kill him . . .
VENGEROVICH JR. What’s he saying? Kill whom?
SCENE XII
The same, PLATONOV and TRILETSKY.
PLATONOV (pushes Triletsky out of the school). Get out! Please head for the shopkeeper’s right this minute! March!
TRILETSKY (stretches). I’d rather you rousted me out with a big stick tomorrow than wake me up today!
PLATONOV. You’re a scoundrel, Nikolay, a scoundrel! You understand?
TRILETSKY. What can you do? Doesn’t that mean that’s how God made me?
PLATONOV. And what if the shopkeeper’s already dead?
TRILETSKY. If he’s dead, then let him rest in peace, and if he’s still carrying on the struggle for existence, there’s no point in you saying these awful things . . . I will not go to the shopkeeper’s! I want to get some sleep!
PLATONOV. You will go, you pig! You will go! (Pushes him.) I won’t let you sleep! What’s wrong with you, in fact? What are you making of yourself? Why don’t you do something? What’s the point of spending all your money on food, wasting the best days of your life and loafing around?
TRILETSKY. You’re a pest . . . What right have you got, pal . . . a regular chigger!
PLATONOV. What kind of creature are you, please let me know? This is awful! What are you living for? Why don’t you study science? Why don’t you keep up your scientific education? Science, why don’t you study it, animal?
TRILETSKY. We shall discuss this interesting subject some time when I ‘m not sleepy, but for now let me sleep . . . (Scratches himself.) What the hell! If it’s not one thing, it’s another: “get out of bed, you skunk!” Hm . . . Code of ethics . . . Damn them all, those codes of ethics!
PLATONOV. What God do you serve, you strange creature? What kind of man are you? No, we’ll never be of any use! No, not us!
TRILETSKY. Listen, Mikhail Vasilich, who gave you the right to lay your chilly big bear paws on another person’s heart? Your tactlessness is beyond belief, pal!
PLATONOV. Nothing will come of us, except weeds out of the earth! We’re a lost tribe! We’re not worth a tinker’s dam! (Weeps.) Not one single person to gladden my eyes! It’s all so vulgar, filthy, shabby . . . Go away, Nikolay! Go on!
TRILETSKY (shrugs). You’re crying?
Pause.
I’ll go to the shopkeeper! You hear me? I’m on my way!
PLATONOV. Do what you like!
TRILETSKY. I’m on my way! Here I go . . .
PLATONOV (stamps his feet). Get out, go away!
TRILETSKY. Fine . . . Go to bed and sleep, Michel! It’s not worth getting excited about! Good-bye! (Starts to go and stops.) Just one word in parting . . . Advise all preachers, yourself included, that the preacher should practice what he preaches . . . If you can’t rejoice in the sight of yourself, don’t ask me to gladden your eyes, which, incidentally, are very attractive in the moonlight! They shine in your head like little shards of green glass . . . And another thing . . . There’s no point in talking to you . . . You should get a sound thrashing, have your bones broken, I should turn my back on you forever over that girl . . . Somebody should give you the talking-to you’ve never had in all your born days! But . . . I’m not up to it! Duels are not my thing! Lucky for you! .
Pause.
Good-bye. (Exits.)
SCENE XIII
PLATONOV, VENGEROVICH JR., and OSIP.
PLATONOV (clutches his head). I’m not the only one like this, they’re all like this! All of them! Where are the real people, my God? What am I thinking! Don’t go to her! She isn’t yours! She’s somebody’s else property! You’ll ruin her life, corrupt her forever! Go away from here! No! I will go to her, I will live here, I will get drunk, act like a heathen . . . Lechers, fools, drunkards . . . Nothing but drunkards! A stupid mother breeds with a drunken father! Father . . . mother! Father . . . O, I hope your bones are spinning in your graves, for the way you drunkenly and stupidly messed up my life!
Pause.
No . . . What was I saying? God forgive me . . . Rest in peace . . . (Stumbles over Vengerovich lying on the ground.) Who’s that?
VENGEROVICH JR. (gets to his knees). A wild, hideous, disgraceful night!
PLATONOV. Aha? . . . Go and write down this wild night in your idiotic diary with ink from your father’s conscience! Get out of here!