Lopahin: Thank you kindly.
VARYA, angrily and mockingly: I'm sorry.
Lopahin: It's nothing. Thank you kindly for your ^arming reception.
VARYA: Don't mention it. Walks away, looks back and asks softly. I didn't hurt you, did I?
Lop^^: Oh, no, not at all. I shall have a large bump, though.
Voices from the ballroom: "Lopahin is here! Lopa- hin!"
Enter PlsHC^.
PxsHCI-nx: My eyes do see, my ears do hear! Kisses LOPAJDN.
LopAHIN: You smeU of cognac, my dear friends. And we've been celebrating here, too.
Enter Mme. RANEVSKAYA.
Mme. RANEVSKAYA: Is that you, Yermolay Alexeye- vich? What kept you so long? Where's Leonid?
Lop^^n: Leonid Andreyevich arrived with me. He's coming.
Mme. RANEVSKAYA: Well, what happened? Did the sale take place? Speak!
Lop^^N, embarrassed, fearful of revealing his foy: The sale was over at four o'clock. We missed the train— had to wait till half past nine. Sighing heavily. Ugh. I'm a little dizzy.
Enter GAYEV. In his right hand he holds parcel$, with his left he is wiping away his tears.
Mme. RANEVSKAYA: Well, Leonid? What news? Im- patiently, through tears. Be quick, for God's sake!
Gayev, not answering, simply waves his hand. Weep- ing, to Fis: Here, take these; anchovies, Kerch her- rings ... I haven't eaten all day. What I've been through! The click of billiard balls comes through the open door of the billiard room and Yasha's voice is heard: "Seven and eighteen!" Gayev's expression changes, he no longer weeps. I'm terribly tired. Firs, help me change. Exits, followed by Fms.
PxsHCHIK: How about the sale? Tell us what hap- pened.
Mme. R^revskaya: Is the cherry orchard sold?
Lopahin: Sold.
Mme. Ranevskaya: Who bought it?
Lopa^^: I bought it.
Pause. Mme. RANEvsKAYA is overcome. She would 580 the portable chekhov
fall to the floor, were it not for the chair and table near which she stands. VARYA takes the keys from her belt, flings them on the floor in the middle of the drawing- room and goes out.
LopAHiN: I bought it. Wait a bit, ladies and gentle- men, please, my head is swimming, I can't talk. Laughs. We got to the auction and Deriganov was there already. Leonid Andreyevich had only 15,000 and straight off Deriganov bid 30,000 over and above the mortgage. I saw how the land lay, got into the fight, bid 40,000. He bid 45,000. I bid fifty-five. He kept adding five thousands, I ten. WeU . . . it came to an end. I bid ninety above the mortgage and the estate was knocked downwn to me. Now the cherry orchard's mine! Mine! Laughs uproariously. Lord! God in Heaven! The cherry orchard's mine! Tell me that I'm drunk—out of my mind—that it's all a dream. Stamps hi.s feet. Don't laugh at me! If my father and my grandfather could rise from their graves and see all that has happened—how their Yermolay, who used to be flogged, their half-literate Yermolay, who used to run about barefoot in winter, how that very Yermolay has bought the most magnifi- cent estate in the world. I bought the estate where my father and grandfather were slaves, where they weren't even allowed to enter the kitchen. I'm asleep—it's only a dream—I only imagine it. . . . It's the fruit of your imagination, wrapped in the darkness of the unknown! Picks up the keys, smiling genially. She threw down the keys, wants to show she's no longer mistress here. Jingles keys. Well, no matter. The band is heard tuning up. Hey, musicians! Strike up! I want to hear you! Corne, everybody, and see how Yerrnolay Lopahin will lay the ax to the cherry orchard and how the trees will faU to the ground. We will build summer cottages there, and our grandsons and great-grandsons will see a new life here. Music! Strike up!
The band rtarts to play. Mme. Ranevskaya has sunk into a chair and is weeping bitterly.
Lopahin, reproachfully: Why, why didn't you listen to me? My dear friend, my poor friend, you can't bring it back now. Tearfully. Oh, if only this were over quickly! Oh, if only our wretched, disordered life were changed!
Pishchik, takes him by the arm; sotto voce: She's crying. Let's go into the ballroom. Let her be alone. Come. Takes his arm and leads him into the ballroom.
Lopahin: What's the matter? Musicians, play so I can hear you! Let me have things the way I want them. Ironically. Here comes the new master, the owner of the cherry orchard. Accidentally he trips over a little table, almost upsetting the candelabra. I can pay for everything. Exits with Pishciiik. Mme. Ranevskaya, alone, sits huddled up, weeping bitterly. Music plays softly. Enter Anya and Trofimov quickly. Anya goes to her mother and falls on her knees before her. Trofi- mov stands in the doorway.
Anya: Mamma, mamma, you're crying! Dear, kind, good mamma, my precious, I love you, I bless you! The cherry orchard is sold, it's gone, that's true, quite true. But don't cry, mamma, life is still before you, you still have your kind, pure heart. Let us go, let us go away from here, darling. We will plant a new orchard, even more luxuriant than this one. You will see it, you will understand, and like the sun at evening, joy—deep, tranquil joy—will sink into your soul, and you will smile, mamma. Come, darling, let us go.
Act IV
S
CENE as in Act I. No window curtains or pictures, only a little furniture, piled up in a corner, as if for sale. A sense of emptiness. Near the outer door and at the back, suitcases, bundles, etc., are piled up. A door open on the left and the voices of Varya and Anya are heard. Lopamn stands waiting. Yasha holds a tray with glasses full of champagne. Yepihodov in the anteroom is tying up a box. Behind the scene a hum of voices: peasants have come to say good-by. Voice of Gayev: "Thanks, brothers, thank you
Yasha: The country folk have come to say good-by. In my opinion, Yermolay Alexeyevich, they are kindly souls, but there's nothing in their heads. The hum dies away. Enter Mme. RANEVSKAYA and Gayev. She is not crying, but is pale, her face twitches and she cannot speak.
Gayev: You gave them your purse, Luba. That won't do! That won't dol
Mme. RANEVSKAYA: I couldn't help it! I couldn'tl They go out.
Lopahin, calls after them: Please, I beg you, have a glass at parting. I didn't think of bringing any cham- pagne from town and at the station I could find only one bottle. Please, won't you? Pause. What's the matter, ladies and gentlemen, don't you want any? Moves away from the door. If I'd known, I wouldn't have bought it. Well, then I won't drink any, either. Yasha carefully sets the tray down on a chair. At least you have a glass, Yasha.
Yasha: Here's to the travelers! And good luck to those that stay! Drinks. This champagne isn't the real stuff, I can assure you.
LOPAHIN: Eight rubles a bottle. Pause. It's devilishly cold here.