Anya: Let's go this way. Do you remember what room this is, mamma?
Mme. RANEVSKAYA, joyfully, through her tears: The nursery!
Varya: How cold it is! My hands are numb. To M^. Ranevskaya. Your rooms are just the same as they were mamma, the white one and the violet.
Mme. RANEVSKAYA: The nursery! My darling, lovely room! I slept here when I was a child . . . Cries. And here I am, like a child again! Kisses her brother and Varya, and then her brother again. Varya's just the same as ever, like a nun. And I recognized Dunyasha. Kisses DUNYASHA.
Gayev: The train was two hours late. What do you think of that? What a way to manage things!
CHARLOTTA, to PiSHCIDK: My dog eats nuts, too.
Pishc^k, in amazement: You don't say so!
All go out, except ^ota and D^roASHA.
DUNYASHA: We've been waiting for you for hours. Takes A.NYA's hat and coat.
Anya: I didn't sleep on the train for four nights and now I'm frozen . . •
DUNYASHA: It was Lent when you left; there was snow and frost, and now . . • My darling! Laughs and kisses her. I have been waiting for you, my sweet, my darling! But I must tell you something ... I can't put it off another minute . . .
Anya, listlessly: What now?
DuNYASHA: The clerk, Yepihodov, proposed to me, just after Easter.
ANYA: There you are, at it again . . . Straightening her hair. I've lost all my hairpins She is staggering with exhaustion.
DuNYASHA: Really, I don't lmow what to think. He loves me—he loves me so!
^ota, looking towards the door of her room, tenderly: My room, my windows, just as though I'd never been away. I'm home! Tomorrow morning I'll get up and run into the orchard. Oh, if I could only get some sleep. I didn't close my eyes during the whole journey— I was so anxious.
Dunyasha: Pyotr Sergeyevich came the day before yesterday.
ANYA, joyfully: Petyal
DUNYASHA: He's asleep in the bath-house. He has settled there. He said he was afraid of being in the way. Looks at her watch. I should wake him, but Miss Varya told me not to. "Don't you wake him," she said.
Enter Varya with a bunch of keys at her belt.
VARYA: Dunyasha, coffee, and be quick . . . Mam- ma's asking for coffee.
DuNYASHA: In a minute. Exits.
Varya: Well, thank God, you've come. You're home again. Fondling Anya. My darling is here again. My pretty one is back.
ANYA: Oh, what I've been through!
Varya: I can imagine.
^ota: When we left, it was Holy Week, it was cold then, and all the way Charlotta chattered and did her tricks. Why did you have to saddle me with Charlotta?
VARYA: You couldn't have traveled all alone, darling —at seventeen!
ANYA: We got to Paris, it was cold there, snowing. My French is dreadful. Mamma lived on the fifth floor; I went up there, and found all kinds of Frenchmen, ladies, an old priest with a book. The place was full of tobacco smoke, and so bleak. Suddenly I felt sorry for mamma, so sorry, I took her head in my arms and hugged her and couldn't let go of her. Afterwards mamma kept fondling me and crying . . .
Varya, through tears: Don't speak of it ... don't.
Anya: She had already sold her villa at Mentone, she had nothing left, nothing. I hadn't a kopeck left either, we had only just enough to get home. And mamma wouldn't understand! When we had dinner at the sta- tions, she always ordered the most expensive dishes, and tipped the waiters a whole ruble. Charlotta, too. And Yasha kept ordering, too—it was simply awful. You know Yasha's mamma's footman now, we brought him here with us.
Varya: Yes, I've seen the blackguard.
Anya: Well, tell me—have you paid the interest?
Varya: How could we?
ANYA: Good heavens, good heavens!
Varya: In August the estate will be put up for sale.
ANYA: My God!
Lopamn peeps in at the door and bleats.
Lopahin: Meh-h-h. Disappears.
Varya, through tears: What I couldn't do to him! Shakes her fist threateningly.
Anya, embracing Varya, gently: Varya, has he pro- posed to you? Varya shakes her head. But he loves you. Why don't you come to an understanding? What are you waiting for?
Varya: Oh, I don't think anything will ever come of it. He's too busy, he has no time for me . . . pays no attention to me. I've washed my hands of him—I can't bear the sight of him. They all talk about our getting married, they all congratulate me—and all the time there's really nothing to it—it's all like a dream. In an- other tone. You have a new brooch—like a bee.
Anya, sadly: Mamma bought it. She goes into her own room and speaks gaily like a child. And you know, in Paris I went up in a balloon.
Varya: My darling's home, my pretty one is back! DuNYASHA returns with the coffee-pot and prepares coffee. Varya stands at the door of Akya's room. All day long, darling, as I go about the house, I keep dream- ing. If only we could marry you off to a rich man, I should feel at ease. Then I would go into a convent, and afterwards to Kiev, to Moscow • . . I would spend my life going from one holy place to another . . . I'd go on and on . . . What a blessing that would bel
Anya: The birds are singing in the orchard. What time is it?
Varya: It must be after two. Time you were asleep, darling. Goes into Anya's room. What a blessing that would be!
YASHA enters with a plaid and a traveling bag, crosses the stage.
Yasha, finically: May I pass this way, please?
DuNYASHA: A person could hardly recognize you, Yasha. Your stay abroad has certainly done wonders for you.
YAsHA: Hm-m . . . and who are you?
DUNYASHA: When you went away I was that high— Indicating with her hand. I'm Dunyasha—Fyodor Ko- zoyedev's daughter. Don't you remember?
YASHA: Hm! What a peach! He looks round and em- braces her. She cries out and drops a saucer. YAsHA leaves quickly.
Varya, in the doorway, in a tone of annoyance: What's going on here?
DuNYASHA, through tears: I've broken a saucer.
Varya: Well, that's good luck.
Anya, coming out of her room: We ought to mamma that Petya's here.
Varya: I left orders not to wake him.
^ota, musingly: Six years ago father died. A month later brother Grisha was drowned in the river. . . . Such a pretty little boy he was—only seven. It was more than mamma could bear, so she went away, went away without looking back . . . Shudders. How well I un- derstand her, if she only knew! Pauses. And Petya Trofi- mov was Grisha's tutor, he may remind her of it all . . .