SOLENI. In twenty-five years’ time, we shall all be dead, thank the Lord. In two or three years’ time apoplexy will carry you off, or else I’ll blow your brains out, my pet. [Takes a scent-bottle out of his pocket and sprinkles his chest and hands.] CHEBUTIKIN. [Laughs] It’s quite true, I never have worked. After I came down from the university I never stirred a finger or opened a book, I just read the papers.... [Takes another newspaper out of his pocket] Here we are.... I’ve learnt from the papers that there used to be one, Dobrolubov [Note: Dobroluboy (1836-81), in spite of the shortness of his career, established himself as one of the classic literary critics of Russia], for instance, but what he wrote--I don’t know... God only knows.... [Somebody is heard tapping on the floor from below] There.... They’re calling me downstairs, somebody’s come to see me. I’ll be back in a minute... won’t be long.... [Exit hurriedly, scratching his beard.] IRINA. He’s up to something. TUZENBACH. Yes, he looked so pleased as he went out that I’m pretty certain he’ll bring you a present in a moment. IRINA. How unpleasant! OLGA. Yes, it’s awful. He’s always doing silly things. MASHA. “There stands a green oak by the sea. And a chain of bright gold is around it... And a chain of bright gold is around it....” [Gets up and sings softly.] OLGA. You’re not very bright to-day, Masha. [MASHA sings, putting on her hat] Where are you off to? MASHA. Home. IRINA. That’s odd.... TUZENBACH. On a name-day, too! MASHA. It doesn’t matter. I’ll come in the evening. Good-bye, dear. [Kisses MASHA] Many happy returns, though I’ve said it before. In the old days when father was alive, every time we had a name-day, thirty or forty officers used to come, and there was lots of noise and fun, and to-day there’s only a man and a half, and it’s as quiet as a desert... I’m off... I’ve got the hump to-day, and am not at all cheerful, so don’t you mind me. [Laughs through her tears] We’ll have a talk later on, but good-bye for the present, my dear; I’ll go somewhere. IRINA. [Displeased] You are queer.... OLGA. [Crying] I understand you, Masha. SOLENI. When a man talks philosophy, well, it is philosophy or at any rate sophistry; but when a woman, or two women, talk philosophy--it’s all my eye. MASHA. What do you mean by that, you very awful man? SOLENI. Oh, nothing. You came down on me before I could say... help! [Pause.] MASHA. [Angrily, to OLGA] Don’t cry! [Enter ANFISA and FERAPONT with a cake.] ANFISA. This way, my dear. Come in, your feet are clean. [To IRINA] From the District Council, from Mihail Ivanitch Protopopov... a cake. IRINA. Thank you. Please thank him. [Takes the cake.] FERAPONT. What? IRINA. [Louder] Please thank him. OLGA. Give him a pie, nurse. Ferapont, go, she’ll give you a pie. FERAPONT. What? ANFISA. Come on, gran’fer, Ferapont Spiridonitch. Come on. [Exeunt.]