Lopahin: Yes.
Gayev, waving his hand: I'm incorrigible; that's ob- vious. Irritably, to YAsHA. Why do you keep dancing about in front of me?
Yasha, laughs: I can't hear your voice without laugh- ing—
Gayev: Either he or I—
Mme. Ranevskaya: Go away, Yasha; run along.
Yasia, handing Mme. Ranevskaya her purse: I'm going, at once. Hardly able to suppress his laughter. This minute. Exits.
LopAHiN: That rich man, Deriganov, wants to buy your estate. They say he's coming to the auction himself.
Mme. Ranevskaya: Where did you hear that?
Lopahjn: That's what they are saying in town.
Gayev: Our aunt in Yaroslavl has promised to help; but when she will send the money, and how much, no one knows.
Lopahin: How much will she send? A hundred thou- sand? Two hundred?
Mme. RANEVSKAYA: Oh, well, ten or fifteen thousand; and we'll have to be grateful for that.
LopAHiN: Forgive me, but such frivolous people as you are, so queer and unbusinesslike—I never met in my life. One tells you in plain language that your estate is up for sale, and you don't seem to take it in.
Mme. Ranevskaya: What are we to do? Tell us what to do.
Lopahin: I do tell you, every day; every day I say the same thing! You must lease the cherry orchard and the land for summer cottages, you must do it and as soon as possible—right away. The auction is close at hand. Please understand! Once you've decided to have the cottages, you can raise as much money as you like, and you're saved.
Mme. Ranevskaya: Cottages—summer people—for- give me, but it's all so vulgar.
Gayev: I agree with you absolutely.
LopAHiN: I shall either burst into tears or scream or faint! I can't stand it! You've worn me out! To Gayev. You're an old woman!
Gayev: Who?
LopAHiN: An old woman! Gets up to go.
Mme. RANEVSKAYA, alarmed: No, don't go! Please stay, I beg you, my dear. Perhaps we shall think of something.
Lopahin: What is there to think of?
Mme. Ranevskaya: Don't go, I beg you. With you here it's more cheerful anyway. Pause. I keep expecting something to happen, it's as though the house were go- ing to crash about our ears.
Gayev, in deep thought: Bank shot in the corner. . . . Three cushions in the side pocket. . . .
Mme. Ranevskaya: We have been great sinners . . .
Lopahin: What sins could you have committed?
Gayev, putting a candy in his mouth: They say I've eaten up my fortune in candy! Laughs.
Mme. Ranevskaya: O.h, my sins! I've squandered money away recklessly, like a lunatic, and I married a man who made nothing but debts. My husband drank himself to death on champagne, he was a terrifio drinker. And then, to my sorrow, I fell in love with another man, and I lived with him. And just then—that was my first punishment—a blow on the head: my little boy was drowned here in the river. And I went abroad, went away forever . . . never to come back, never to see this river again . . . I closed my eyes and ran, out of my mind. . . . But he followed me, pitiless, brutal. I bought a villa near Mentone, because he fell ill there; and for three years, day and night, I knew no peace, no rest. The sick man wore me out, he sucked my soul dry. Then last year, when the villa was sold to pay my debts, I went to Paris, and there he robbed me, abandoned me, took up with another woman, I tried to poison myself— it was stupid, so shameful—and then suddenly I felt drawn back to Russia, back to my own country, to my little girl. Wipes her tears away. Lord, Lord! Be merci- ful, forgive me my sins—don't punish me any more! Takes a telegram out of her pocket. This came today from Paris—he begs me to forgive him, implores me to go back . . . Tears up the telegram. Do I hear music? Listens.
Gayev: That's our famous Jewish band, you remem- ber? Four violins, a flute, and a double bass.
Mme. RANEVSKAYA: Does it still exist? We ought to send for them some evening and have a party.
Lopahin, listens: I don't hear anything. Hums softly: "The Germans for a fee will Frenchify a Russian." Laughs. I saw a play at the theater yesterday—awfully funny.
M^. RANEVSKAYA: There was probably nothing funny about it. You shouldn't go to see plays, you should look at yourselves more often. How drab your lives are—how full of unnecessary talk.
Lopahin: That's true; come to think of it, we do live like fools. Pause. My pop was a peasant, an idiot; he understood nothing, never taught me anything, all he did was beat me when he was drunk, and always with a stick. Fundamentally, I'm just the same kind of block- head and idiot. I was never taught anything—I have a terrible handwriting, I write so that I feel ashamed be- fore people, like a pig.
M^. Ranevskaya: You should get married, my friend.
LopAHiN: Yes . . . that's true.
M^. Ranevskaya: To our Varya, she's a good girl.
Lop^^: Yes.
Mme. RANEVSKAYA: She's a girl who comes of simple people, she works all day long; and above all, she loves you. Besides, you've liked her for a long time now.
Lop^mn: Well, I've nothing against it. She's a good girl. Pause.
Gayev: I've been offered a place in the bank—6,000 a year. Have you heard?
M^. Ranevskaya: You're not up to it. Stay where you are.
Fis enters, carrying an overcoat.
FIRS, to GAYEv: Please put this on, sir, it's damp.
GAYEV, putting it on: I'm fed up with you, brother.
Fms: Never mind. This morning you drove off with- out saying a word. Looks him over.
Mme. R^^VSKAYA: How you've aged, Firs.
Fms: I beg your pardon?
Lopahin: The lady says you've aged.
Fis: I've lived a long time; they were arranging my wedding and your papa wasn't born yet. Laughs. When freedom came I was already head footman. I wouldn't consent to be set free then; I stayed on with the master • . . Pause. I remember they were all very happy, but why they were happy, they didn't know themselves.
Lopaion: It was fine in the old days! At least there was flogging!
Fms, not hearing: Of course. The peasants kept to the masters, the masters kept to the peasants; but now they've all gone their own ways, and there's no making out anything.
Gayev: Be quiet, Firs. I must go to town tomorrow. They've promised to introduce me to a general who might let us have a loan.
Lopaion: Nothing will come of that. You won't even be able to pay the interest, you can be certain of that.
Mme. RANEVSKAYA: He's raving, there isn't any gen- eral. Enter TnOFiMOV, Anya, and Varya.
Gayev: Here come our young people.
Anya: There's mamma, on the bench.
Mme. Ranevskaya, tenderly: Come here, come along, my darlings. Embraces Anya and Vahya. If you only knew how I love you both! Sit beside me—there, like that. All sit down.
Lopahin: Our perpetual student is always with the young ladies.
Trofimov: That's not any of your business.
Lopahin: He'll soon be fifty, and he's still a student!
Trofimov: Stop your silly jokes.
Lopahin: What are you so cross about, you queer bird?
Trofimov: Oh, leave me alone.
LoPAmN, laughs: Allow me to ask you, what do you think of me?