KULIGIN. It’s a very good likeness.... [Enter NATASHA.] NATASHA. [To the maid] What? Mihail Ivanitch Protopopov will sit with little Sophie, and Andrey Sergeyevitch can take little Bobby out. Children are such a bother.... [To IRINA] Irina, it’s such a pity you’re going away to-morrow. Do stop just another week. [Sees KULIGIN and screams; he laughs and takes off his beard and whiskers] How you frightened me! [To IRINA] I’ve grown used to you and do you think it will be easy for me to part from you? I’m going to have Andrey and his violin put into your room--let him fiddle away in there!--and we’ll put little Sophie into his room. The beautiful, lovely child! What a little girlie! To-day she looked at me with such pretty eyes and said “Mamma!” KULIGIN. A beautiful child, it’s quite true. NATASHA. That means I shall have the place to myself to-morrow. [Sighs] In the first place I shall have that avenue of fir-trees cut down, then that maple. It’s so ugly at nights.... [To IRINA] That belt doesn’t suit you at all, dear.... It’s an error of taste. And I’ll give orders to have lots and lots of little flowers planted here, and they’ll smell.... [Severely] Why is there a fork lying about here on the seat? [Going towards the house, to the maid] Why is there a fork lying about here on the seat, I say? [Shouts] Don’t you dare to answer me! KULIGIN. Temper! temper! [A march is played off; they all listen.] OLGA. They’re going. [CHEBUTIKIN comes in.] MASHA. They’re going. Well, well.... Bon voyage! [To her husband] We must be going home.... Where’s my coat and hat? KULIGIN. I took them in... I’ll bring them, in a moment. OLGA. Yes, now we can all go home. It’s time. CHEBUTIKIN. Olga Sergeyevna! OLGA. What is it? [Pause] What is it? CHEBUTIKIN. Nothing... I don’t know how to tell you.... [Whispers to her.] OLGA. [Frightened] It can’t be true! CHEBUTIKIN. Yes... such a story... I’m tired out, exhausted, I won’t say any more.... [Sadly] Still, it’s all the same! MASHA. What’s happened? OLGA. [Embraces IRINA] This is a terrible day... I don’t know how to tell you, dear.... IRINA. What is it? Tell me quickly, what is it? For God’s sake! [Cries.] CHEBUTIKIN. The Baron was killed in the duel just now. IRINA. [Cries softly] I knew it, I knew it.... CHEBUTIKIN. [Sits on a bench at the back of the stage] I’m tired.... [Takes a paper from his pocket] Let ‘em cry.... [Sings softly] “Tarara-boom-deay, it is my washing day....” Isn’t it all the same! [The three sisters are standing, pressing against one another.] MASHA. Oh, how the music plays! They are leaving us, one has quite left us, quite and for ever. We remain alone, to begin our life over again. We must live... we must live....