Plays by Anton Chekhov, Second Series

VARYA. You dare to talk to me like that! [Furious] You dare? You mean that I know nothing? Get out of here! This minute!

EPIKHODOV. [Nervous] I must ask you to express yourself more delicately.

VARYA. [Beside herself] Get out this minute. Get out! [He goes to the door, she follows] Two-and-twenty troubles! I don’t want any sign of you here! I don’t want to see anything of you! [EPIKHODOV has gone out; his voice can be heard outside: “I’ll make a complaint against you.”] What, coming back? [Snatches up the stick left by FIERS by the door] Go… go… go, I’ll show you… Are you going? Are you going? Well, then take that. [She hits out as LOPAKHIN enters.]

LOPAKHIN. Much obliged.

VARYA. [Angry but amused] I’m sorry.

LOPAKHIN. Never mind. I thank you for my pleasant reception.

VARYA. It isn’t worth any thanks. [Walks away, then looks back and asks gently] I didn’t hurt you, did I?

LOPAKHIN. No, not at all. There’ll be an enormous bump, that’s all.

VOICES FROM THE DRAWING-ROOM. Lopakhin’s returned! Ermolai Alexeyevitch!

PISCHIN. Now we’ll see what there is to see and hear what there is to hear… [Kisses LOPAKHIN] You smell of cognac, my dear, my soul. And we’re all having a good time.

[Enter LUBOV ANDREYEVNA.]

LUBOV. Is that you, Ermolai Alexeyevitch? Why were you so long? Where’s Leonid?

LOPAKHIN. Leonid Andreyevitch came back with me, he’s coming…

LUBOV. [Excited] Well, what? Is it sold? Tell me?

LOPAKHIN. [Confused, afraid to show his pleasure] The sale ended up at four o’clock… We missed the train, and had to wait till half-past nine. [Sighs heavily] Ooh! My head’s going round a little.

[Enter GAEV; in his right hand he carries things he has bought, with his left he wipes away his tears.]

LUBOV. Leon, what’s happened? Leon, well? [Impatiently, in tears] Quick, for the love of God…

GAEV. [Says nothing to her, only waves his hand; to FIERS, weeping] Here, take this… Here are anchovies, herrings from Kertch… I’ve had no food to-day… I have had a time! [The door from the billiard-room is open; the clicking of the balls is heard, and YASHA’S voice, “Seven, eighteen!” GAEV’S expression changes, he cries no more] I’m awfully tired. Help me change my clothes, Fiers.

[Goes out through the drawing-room; FIERS after him.]

PISCHIN. What happened? Come on, tell us!

LUBOV. Is the cherry orchard sold?

LOPAKHIN. It is sold.

LUBOV. Who bought it?

LOPAKHIN. I bought it.

[LUBOV ANDREYEVNA is overwhelmed; she would fall if she were not standing by an armchair and a table. VARYA takes her keys off her belt, throws them on the floor, into the middle of the room and goes out.]

LOPAKHIN. I bought it! Wait, ladies and gentlemen, please, my head’s going round, I can’t talk… [Laughs] When we got to the sale, Deriganov was there already. Leonid Andreyevitch had only fifteen thousand roubles, and Deriganov offered thirty thousand on top of the mortgage to begin with. I saw how matters were, so I grabbed hold of him and bid forty. He went up to forty-five, I offered fifty-five. That means he went up by fives and I went up by tens… Well, it came to an end. I bid ninety more than the mortgage; and it stayed with me. The cherry orchard is mine now, mine! [Roars with laughter] My God, my God, the cherry orchard’s mine! Tell me I’m drunk, or mad, or dreaming… [Stamps his feet] Don’t laugh at me! If my father and grandfather rose from their graves and looked at the whole affair, and saw how their Ermolai, their beaten and uneducated Ermolai, who used to run barefoot in the winter, how that very Ermolai has bought an estate, which is the most beautiful thing in the world! I’ve bought the estate where my grandfather and my father were slaves, where they weren’t even allowed into the kitchen. I’m asleep, it’s only a dream, an illusion… It’s the fruit of imagination, wrapped in the fog of the unknown… [Picks up the keys, nicely smiling] She threw down the keys, she wanted to show she was no longer mistress here… [Jingles keys] Well, it’s all one! [Hears the band tuning up] Eh, musicians, play, I want to hear you! Come and look at Ermolai Lopakhin laying his axe to the cherry orchard, come and look at the trees falling! We’ll build villas here, and our grandsons and great-grandsons will see a new life here… Play on, music! [The band plays. LUBOV ANDREYEVNA sinks into a chair and weeps bitterly. LOPAKHIN continues reproachfully] Why then, why didn’t you take my advice? My poor, dear woman, you can’t go back now. [Weeps] Oh, if only the whole thing was done with, if only our uneven, unhappy life were changed!

PISCHIN. [Takes his arm; in an undertone] She’s crying. Let’s go into the drawing-room and leave her by herself… come on… [Takes his arm and leads him out.]

LOPAKHIN. What’s that? Bandsmen, play nicely! Go on, do just as I want you to! [Ironically] The new owner, the owner of the cherry orchard is coming! [He accidentally knocks up against a little table and nearly upsets the candelabra] I can pay for everything! [Exit with PISCHIN]

[In the reception-room and the drawing-room nobody remains except LUBOV ANDREYEVNA, who sits huddled up and weeping bitterly. The band plays softly. ANYA and TROFIMOV come in quickly. ANYA goes up to her mother and goes on her knees in front of her. TROFIMOV stands at the drawing-room entrance.]

ANYA. Mother! mother, are you crying? My dear, kind, good mother, my beautiful mother, I love you! Bless you! The cherry orchard is sold, we’ve got it no longer, it’s true, true, but don’t cry mother, you’ve still got your life before you, you’ve still your beautiful pure soul… Come with me, come, dear, away from here, come! We’ll plant a new garden, finer than this, and you’ll see it, and you’ll understand, and deep joy, gentle joy will sink into your soul, like the evening sun, and you’ll smile, mother! Come, dear, let’s go!

Curtain

ACT FOUR

[The stage is set as for Act I. There are no curtains on the windows, no pictures; only a few pieces of furniture are left; they are piled up in a corner as if for sale. The emptiness is felt. By the door that leads out of the house and at the back of the stage, portmanteaux and travelling paraphernalia are piled up. The door on the left is open; the voices of VARYA and ANYA can be heard through it. LOPAKHIN stands and waits. YASHA holds a tray with little tumblers of champagne. Outside, EPIKHODOV is tying up a box. Voices are heard behind the stage. The peasants have come to say good-bye. The voice of GAEV is heard: “Thank you, brothers, thank you.”]

YASHA. The common people have come to say good-bye. I am of the opinion, Ermolai Alexeyevitch, that they’re good people, but they don’t understand very much.

[The voices die away. LUBOV ANDREYEVNA and GAEV enter. She is not crying but is pale, and her face trembles; she can hardly speak.]

GAEV. You gave them your purse, Luba. You can’t go on like that, you can’t!

LUBOV. I couldn’t help myself, I couldn’t! [They go out.]

LOPAKHIN. [In the doorway, calling after them] Please, I ask you most humbly! Just a little glass to say good-bye. I didn’t remember to bring any from town and I only found one bottle at the station. Please, do! [Pause] Won’t you really have any? [Goes away from the door] If I only knew – I wouldn’t have bought any. Well, I shan’t drink any either. [YASHA carefully puts the tray on a chair] You have a drink, Yasha, at any rate.

YASHA. To those departing! And good luck to those who stay behind! [Drinks] I can assure you that this isn’t real champagne.

LOPAKHIN. Eight roubles a bottle. [Pause] It’s devilish cold here.

YASHA. There are no fires to-day, we’re going away. [Laughs]

LOPAKHIN. What’s the matter with you?

YASHA. I’m just pleased.

LOPAKHIN. It’s October outside, but it’s as sunny and as quiet as if it were summer. Good for building. [Looking at his watch and speaking through the door] Ladies and gentlemen, please remember that it’s only forty-seven minutes till the train goes! You must go off to the station in twenty minutes. Hurry up.

[TROFIMOV, in an overcoat, comes in from the grounds.]

TROFIMOV. I think it’s time we went. The carriages are waiting. Where the devil are my goloshes? They’re lost. [Through the door] Anya, I can’t find my goloshes! I can’t!

LOPAKHIN. I’ve got to go to Kharkov. I’m going in the same train as you. I’m going to spend the whole winter in Kharkov. I’ve been hanging about with you people, going rusty without work. I can’t live without working. I must have something to do with my hands; they hang about as if they weren’t mine at all.

TROFIMOV. We’ll go away now and then you’ll start again on your useful labours.

LOPAKHIN. Have a glass.

TROFIMOV. I won’t.