Delphi Complete Works of Anton Chekhov (Illustrated) (425 page)

BOOK: Delphi Complete Works of Anton Chekhov (Illustrated)
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SHAMRAEFF. The carriage horses! And where am I to find the harness for them? This is astonishing! My dear madam, I have the greatest respect for your talents, and would gladly sacrifice ten years of my life for you, but I cannot let you have any horses to-day.

 

 

 

ARKADINA. But if I must go to town? What an extraordinary state of affairs!

 

 

 

SHAMRAEFF. You do not know, madam, what it is to run a farm.

 

 

 

ARKADINA.
[In a burst of anger]
That is an old story! Under these circumstances I shall go back to Moscow this very day. Order a carriage for me from the village, or I shall go to the station on foot.

 

 

 

SHAMRAEFF.
[losing his temper]
Under these circumstances I resign my position. You must find yourself another manager.
[He goes out.]

 

 

 

ARKADINA. It is like this every summer: every summer I am insulted here. I shall never set foot here again.

 

 

 

She goes out to the left, in the direction of the wharf. In a few minutes she is seen entering the house, followed by TRIGORIN, who carries a bucket and fishing-rod.

 

 

 

SORIN.
[Losing his temper]
What the deuce did he mean by his impudence? I want all the horses brought here at once!

 

 

 

NINA.
[To PAULINA]
How could he refuse anything to Madame Arkadina, the famous actress? Is not every wish, every caprice even, of hers, more important than any farm work? This is incredible.

 

 

 

PAULINA.
[In despair]
What can I do about it? Put yourself in my place and tell me what I can do.

 

 

 

SORIN.
[To NINA]
Let us go and find my sister, and all beg her not to go. [He looks in the direction in which SHAMRAEFF went out] That man is insufferable; a regular tyrant.

 

 

 

NINA. [Preventing him from getting up] Sit still, sit still, and let us wheel you. [She and MEDVIEDENKO push the chair before them] This is terrible!

 

 

 

SORIN. Yes, yes, it is terrible; but he won’t leave. I shall have a talk with him in a moment. [They go out. Only DORN and PAULINA are left.]

 

 

 

DORN. How tiresome people are! Your husband deserves to be thrown out of here neck and crop, but it will all end by this old granny Sorin and his sister asking the man’s pardon. See if it doesn’t.

 

 

 

PAULINA. He has sent the carriage horses into the fields too. These misunderstandings occur every day. If you only knew how they excite me! I am ill; see! I am trembling all over! I cannot endure his rough ways.
[Imploringly]
Eugene, my darling, my beloved, take me to you. Our time is short; we are no longer young; let us end deception and concealment, even though it is only at the end of our lives.
[A pause.]

 

 

 

DORN. I am fifty-five years old. It is too late now for me to change my ways of living.

 

 

 

PAULINA. I know that you refuse me because there are other women who are near to you, and you cannot take everybody. I understand. Excuse me--I see I am only bothering you.

 

 

 

NINA is seen near the house picking a bunch of flowers.

 

 

 

DORN. No, it is all right.

 

 

 

PAULINA. I am tortured by jealousy. Of course you are a doctor and cannot escape from women. I understand.

 

 

 

DORN.
[TO NINA, who comes toward him]
How are things in there?

 

 

 

NINA. Madame Arkadina is crying, and Sorin is having an attack of asthma.

 

 

 

DORN. Let us go and give them both some camomile tea.

 

 

 

NINA. [Hands him the bunch of flowers] Here are some flowers for you.

 

 

 

DORN. Thank you.
[He goes into the house.]

 

 

 

PAULINA.
[Following him]
What pretty flowers! [As they reach the house she says in a low voice] Give me those flowers! Give them to me!

 

 

 

DORN hands her the flowers; she tears them to pieces and flings them away. They both go into the house.

 

 

 

NINA.
[Alone]
How strange to see a famous actress weeping, and for such a trifle! Is it not strange, too, that a famous author should sit fishing all day? He is the idol of the public, the papers are full of him, his photograph is for sale everywhere, his works have been translated into many foreign languages, and yet he is overjoyed if he catches a couple of minnows. I always thought famous people were distant and proud; I thought they despised the common crowd which exalts riches and birth, and avenged themselves on it by dazzling it with the inextinguishable honour and glory of their fame. But here I see them weeping and playing cards and flying into passions like everybody else.

 

 

 

TREPLIEFF comes in without a hat on, carrying a gun and a dead seagull.

 

 

 

TREPLIEFF. Are you alone here?

 

 

 

NINA. Yes.

 

 

 

TREPLIEFF lays the sea-gull at her feet.

 

 

 

NINA. What do you mean by this?

 

 

 

TREPLIEFF. I was base enough to-day to kill this gull. I lay it at your feet.

 

 

 

NINA. What is happening to you? [She picks up the gull and stands looking at it.]

 

 

 

TREPLIEFF.
[After a pause]
So shall I soon end my own life.

 

 

 

NINA. You have changed so that I fail to recognise you.

 

 

 

TREPLIEFF. Yes, I have changed since the time when I ceased to recognise you. You have failed me; your look is cold; you do not like to have me near you.

 

 

 

NINA. You have grown so irritable lately, and you talk so darkly and symbolically that you must forgive me if I fail to follow you. I am too simple to understand you.

 

 

 

TREPLIEFF. All this began when my play failed so dismally. A woman never can forgive failure. I have burnt the manuscript to the last page. Oh, if you could only fathom my unhappiness! Your estrangement is to me terrible, incredible; it is as if I had suddenly waked to find this lake dried up and sunk into the earth. You say you are too simple to understand me; but, oh, what is there to understand? You disliked my play, you have no faith in my powers, you already think of me as commonplace and worthless, as many are.
[Stamping his foot]
How well I can understand your feelings! And that understanding is to me like a dagger in the brain. May it be accursed, together with my stupidity, which sucks my life-blood like a snake! [He sees TRIGORIN, who approaches reading a book] There comes real genius, striding along like another Hamlet, and with a book, too.
[Mockingly]
“Words, words, words.” You feel the warmth of that sun already, you smile, your eyes melt and glow liquid in its rays. I shall not disturb you.
[He goes out.]

 

 

 

TRIGORIN.
[Making notes in his book]
Takes snuff and drinks vodka; always wears black dresses; is loved by a schoolteacher--

 

 

 

NINA. How do you do?

 

 

 

TRIGORIN.
How are you, Miss Nina? Owing to an unforeseen development of circumstances, it seems that we are leaving here today. You and I shall probably never see each other again, and I am sorry for it. I seldom meet a young and pretty girl now; I can hardly remember how it feels to be nineteen, and the young girls in my books are seldom living characters. I should like to change places with you, if but for an hour, to look out at the world through your eyes, and so find out what sort of a little person you are.

 

 

 

NINA. And I should like to change places with you.

 

 

 

TRIGORIN. Why?

 

 

 

NINA. To find out how a famous genius feels. What is it like to be famous? What sensations does it give you?

 

 

 

TRIGORIN. What sensations? I don’t believe it gives any.
[Thoughtfully]
Either you exaggerate my fame, or else, if it exists, all I can say is that one simply doesn’t feel fame in any way.

 

 

 

NINA. But when you read about yourself in the papers?

 

 

 

TRIGORIN. If the critics praise me, I am happy; if they condemn me, I am out of sorts for the next two days.

 

 

 

NINA. This is a wonderful world. If you only knew how I envy you! Men are born to different destinies. Some dully drag a weary, useless life behind them, lost in the crowd, unhappy, while to one out of a million, as to you, for instance, comes a bright destiny full of interest and meaning. You are lucky.

 

 

 

TRIGORIN. I, lucky?
[He shrugs his shoulders]
H-m-- I hear you talking about fame, and happiness, and bright destinies, and those fine words of yours mean as much to me--forgive my saying so--as sweetmeats do, which I never eat. You are very young, and very kind.

BOOK: Delphi Complete Works of Anton Chekhov (Illustrated)
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