Plays by Anton Chekhov, Second SeriesChekhov, Anton Pavlovich
General
Plays by Anton Chekhov, Second Series
Chekhov, Anton Pavlovich
Chekhov, Anton Pavlovich, 1860-1904 -- Translations into English; Russian drama -- Translations into English
FIERS. I’ll go wherever you order me to go.
LUBOV. Why do you look like that? Are you ill? I think you ought to go
to bed....
FIERS. Yes... [With a smile] I’ll go to bed, and who’ll hand things
round and give orders without me? I’ve the whole house on my shoulders.
YASHA. [To LUBOV ANDREYEVNA] Lubov Andreyevna! I want to ask a favour of
you, if you’ll be so kind! If you go to Paris again, then please take
me with you. It’s absolutely impossible for me to stop here. [Looking
round; in an undertone] What’s the good of talking about it, you see for
yourself that this is an uneducated country, with an immoral population,
and it’s so dull. The food in the kitchen is beastly, and here’s this
Fiers walking about mumbling various inappropriate things. Take me with
you, be so kind!
[Enter PISCHIN.]
PISCHIN. I come to ask for the pleasure of a little waltz, dear lady....
[LUBOV ANDREYEVNA goes to him] But all the same, you wonderful woman,
I must have 180 little roubles from you... I must.... [They dance] 180
little roubles.... [They go through into the drawing-room.]
YASHA. [Sings softly] “Oh, will you understand
My soul’s deep restlessness?”
[In the drawing-room a figure in a grey top-hat and in baggy check
trousers is waving its hands and jumping about; there are cries of
“Bravo, Charlotta Ivanovna!”]
DUNYASHA. [Stops to powder her face] The young mistress tells me to
dance--there are a lot of gentlemen, but few ladies--and my head
goes round when I dance, and my heart beats, Fiers Nicolaevitch; the
Post-office clerk told me something just now which made me catch my
breath. [The music grows faint.]
FIERS. What did he say to you?
DUNYASHA. He says, “You’re like a little flower.”
YASHA. [Yawns] Impolite.... [Exit.]
DUNYASHA. Like a little flower. I’m such a delicate girl; I simply love
words of tenderness.
FIERS. You’ll lose your head.
[Enter EPIKHODOV.]
EPIKHODOV. You, Avdotya Fedorovna, want to see me no more than if I was
some insect. [Sighs] Oh, life!
DUNYASHA. What do you want?
EPIKHODOV. Undoubtedly, perhaps, you may be right. [Sighs] But,
certainly, if you regard the matter from the aspect, then you, if I may
say so, and you must excuse my candidness, have absolutely reduced me to
a state of mind. I know my fate, every day something unfortunate happens
to me, and I’ve grown used to it a long time ago, I even look at my fate
with a smile. You gave me your word, and though I...
DUNYASHA. Please, we’ll talk later on, but leave me alone now. I’m
meditating now. [Plays with her fan.]
EPIKHODOV. Every day something unfortunate happens to me, and I, if I
may so express myself, only smile, and even laugh.
[VARYA enters from the drawing-room.]
VARYA. Haven’t you gone yet, Simeon? You really have no respect for
anybody. [To DUNYASHA] You go away, Dunyasha. [To EPIKHODOV] You play
billiards and break a cue, and walk about the drawing-room as if you
were a visitor!
EPIKHODOV. You cannot, if I may say so, call me to order.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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