Delphi Complete Works of Anton Chekhov (Illustrated) (434 page)

The curtain falls.

ACT II

The dining-room of SEREBRAKOFF’S house. It is night. The tapping of the WATCHMAN’S rattle is heard in the garden. SEREBRAKOFF is dozing in an arm-chair by an open window and HELENA is sitting beside him, also half asleep.

SEREBRAKOFF.
[Rousing himself]
Who is here? Is it you, Sonia?

HELENA. It is I.

SEREBRAKOFF. Oh, it is you, Nelly. This pain is intolerable.

HELENA. Your shawl has slipped down. [She wraps up his legs in the shawl] Let me shut the window.

SEREBRAKOFF. No, leave it open; I am suffocating. I dreamt just now that my left leg belonged to some one else, and it hurt so that I woke. I don’t believe this is gout, it is more like rheumatism. What time is it?

HELENA. Half past twelve.
[A pause.]

SEREBRAKOFF. I want you to look for Batushka’s works in the library to-morrow. I think we have him.

HELENA. What is that?

SEREBRAKOFF. Look for Batushka to-morrow morning; we used to have him, I remember. Why do I find it so hard to breathe?

HELENA. You are tired; this is the second night you have had no sleep.

SEREBRAKOFF. They say that Turgenieff got angina of the heart from gout. I am afraid I am getting angina too. Oh, damn this horrible, accursed old age! Ever since I have been old I have been hateful to myself, and I am sure, hateful to you all as well.

HELENA. You speak as if we were to blame for your being old.

SEREBRAKOFF. I am more hateful to you than to any one.

HELENA gets up and walks away from him, sitting down at a distance.

SEREBRAKOFF. You are quite right, of course. I am not an idiot; I can understand you. You are young and healthy and beautiful, and longing for life, and I am an old dotard, almost a dead man already. Don’t I know it? Of course I see that it is foolish for me to live so long, but wait! I shall soon set you all free. My life cannot drag on much longer.

HELENA. You are overtaxing my powers of endurance. Be quiet, for God’s sake!

SEREBRAKOFF. It appears that, thanks to me, everybody’s power of endurance is being overtaxed; everybody is miserable, only I am blissfully triumphant. Oh, yes, of course!

HELENA. Be quiet! You are torturing me.

SEREBRAKOFF. I torture everybody. Of course.

HELENA.
[Weeping]
This is unbearable! Tell me, what is it you want me to do?

SEREBRAKOFF. Nothing.

HELENA. Then be quiet, please.

SEREBRAKOFF. It is funny that everybody listens to Ivan and his old idiot of a mother, but the moment I open my lips you all begin to feel ill-treated. You can’t even stand the sound of my voice. Even if I am hateful, even if I am a selfish tyrant, haven’t I the right to be one at my age? Haven’t I deserved it? Haven’t I, I ask you, the right to be respected, now that I am old?

HELENA. No one is disputing your rights.
[The window slams in the wind]
The wind is rising, I must shut the window.
[She shuts it]
We shall have rain in a moment. Your rights have never been questioned by anybody.

The WATCHMAN in the garden sounds his rattle.

SEREBRAKOFF. I have spent my life working in the interests of learning. I am used to my library and the lecture hall and to the esteem and admiration of my colleagues. Now I suddenly find myself plunged in this wilderness, condemned to see the same stupid people from morning till night and listen to their futile conversation. I want to live; I long for success and fame and the stir of the world, and here I am in exile! Oh, it is dreadful to spend every moment grieving for the lost past, to see the success of others and sit here with nothing to do but to fear death. I cannot stand it! It is more than I can bear. And you will not even forgive me for being old!

HELENA. Wait, have patience; I shall be old myself in four or five years.

SONIA comes in.

SONIA. Father, you sent for Dr. Astroff, and now when he comes you refuse to see him. It is not nice to give a man so much trouble for nothing.

SEREBRAKOFF. What do I care about your Astroff? He understands medicine about as well as I understand astronomy.

SONIA. We can’t send for the whole medical faculty, can we, to treat your gout?

SEREBRAKOFF. I won’t talk to that madman!

SONIA. Do as you please. It’s all the same to me.
[She sits down.]

SEREBRAKOFF. What time is it?

HELENA. One o’clock.

SEREBRAKOFF. It is stifling in here. Sonia, hand me that bottle on the table.

SONIA. Here it is. [She hands him a bottle of medicine.]

SEREBRAKOFF.
[Crossly]
No, not that one! Can’t you understand me? Can’t I ask you to do a thing?

SONIA. Please don’t be captious with me. Some people may like it, but you must spare me, if you please, because I don’t. Besides, I haven’t the time; we are cutting the hay to-morrow and I must get up early.

VOITSKI comes in dressed in a long gown and carrying a candle.

VOITSKI. A thunderstorm is coming up.
[The lightning flashes]
There it is! Go to bed, Helena and Sonia. I have come to take your place.

SEREBRAKOFF.
[Frightened]
No, n-o, no! Don’t leave me alone with him! Oh, don’t. He will begin to lecture me.

VOITSKI. But you must give them a little rest. They have not slept for two nights.

SEREBRAKOFF. Then let them go to bed, but you go away too! Thank you. I implore you to go. For the sake of our former friendship do not protest against going. We will talk some other time —
 
—

VOITSKI. Our former friendship! Our former —
 
—

SONIA. Hush, Uncle Vanya!

SEREBRAKOFF.
[To his wife]
My darling, don’t leave me alone with him. He will begin to lecture me.

VOITSKI. This is ridiculous.

MARINA comes in carrying a candle.

SONIA. You must go to bed, nurse, it is late.

MARINA. I haven’t cleared away the tea things. Can’t go to bed yet.

SEREBRAKOFF. No one can go to bed. They are all worn out, only I enjoy perfect happiness.

MARINA. [Goes up to SEREBRAKOFF and speaks tenderly] What’s the matter, master? Does it hurt? My own legs are aching too, oh, so badly. [Arranges his shawl about his legs] You have had this illness such a long time. Sonia’s dead mother used to stay awake with you too, and wear herself out for you. She loved you dearly.
[A pause]
Old people want to be pitied as much as young ones, but nobody cares about them somehow. [She kisses SEREBRAKOFF’S shoulder] Come, master, let me give you some linden-tea and warm your poor feet for you. I shall pray to God for you.

SEREBRAKOFF.
[Touched]
Let us go, Marina.

MARINA. My own feet are aching so badly, oh, so badly! [She and SONIA lead SEREBRAKOFF out] Sonia’s mother used to wear herself out with sorrow and weeping. You were still little and foolish then, Sonia. Come, come, master.

SEREBRAKOFF, SONIA and MARINA go out.

HELENA. I am absolutely exhausted by him, and can hardly stand.

VOITSKI. You are exhausted by him, and I am exhausted by my own self. I have not slept for three nights.

HELENA. Something is wrong in this house. Your mother hates everything but her pamphlets and the professor; the professor is vexed, he won’t trust me, and fears you; Sonia is angry with her father, and with me, and hasn’t spoken to me for two weeks; I am at the end of my strength, and have come near bursting into tears at least twenty times to-day. Something is wrong in this house.

VOITSKI. Leave speculating alone.

HELENA. You are cultured and intelligent, Ivan, and you surely understand that the world is not destroyed by villains and conflagrations, but by hate and malice and all this spiteful tattling. It is your duty to make peace, and not to growl at everything.

VOITSKI. Help me first to make peace with myself. My darling!
[Seizes her hand.]

HELENA. Let go!
[She drags her hand away]
Go away!

VOITSKI. Soon the rain will be over, and all nature will sigh and awake refreshed. Only I am not refreshed by the storm. Day and night the thought haunts me like a fiend, that my life is lost for ever. My past does not count, because I frittered it away on trifles, and the present has so terribly miscarried! What shall I do with my life and my love? What is to become of them? This wonderful feeling of mine will be wasted and lost as a ray of sunlight is lost that falls into a dark chasm, and my life will go with it.

HELENA. I am as it were benumbed when you speak to me of your love, and I don’t know how to answer you. Forgive me, I have nothing to say to you.
[She tries to go out]
Good-night!

VOITSKI.
[Barring the way]
If you only knew how I am tortured by the thought that beside me in this house is another life that is being lost forever — it is yours! What are you waiting for? What accursed philosophy stands in your way? Oh, understand, understand —
 
—

HELENA.
[Looking at him intently]
Ivan, you are drunk!

VOITSKI. Perhaps. Perhaps.

HELENA. Where is the doctor?

VOITSKI. In there, spending the night with me. Perhaps I am drunk, perhaps I am; nothing is impossible.

HELENA. Have you just been drinking together? Why do you do that?

VOITSKI. Because in that way I get a taste of life. Let me do it, Helena!

HELENA. You never used to drink, and you never used to talk so much. Go to bed, I am tired of you.

VOITSKI. [Falling on his knees before her] My sweetheart, my beautiful one —
 
—

HELENA.
[Angrily]
Leave me alone! Really, this has become too disagreeable.

HELENA goes out. A pause.

VOITSKI
[Alone]
She is gone! I met her first ten years ago, at her sister’s house, when she was seventeen and I was thirty-seven. Why did I not fall in love with her then and propose to her? It would have been so easy! And now she would have been my wife. Yes, we would both have been waked to-night by the thunderstorm, and she would have been frightened, but I would have held her in my arms and whispered: “Don’t be afraid! I am here.” Oh, enchanting dream, so sweet that I laugh to think of it.
[He laughs]
But my God! My head reels! Why am I so old? Why won’t she understand me? I hate all that rhetoric of hers, that morality of indolence, that absurd talk about the destruction of the world —
 
—
[A pause]
Oh, how I have been deceived! For years I have worshipped that miserable gout-ridden professor. Sonia and I have squeezed this estate dry for his sake. We have bartered our butter and curds and peas like misers, and have never kept a morsel for ourselves, so that we could scrape enough pennies together to send to him. I was proud of him and of his learning; I received all his words and writings as inspired, and now? Now he has retired, and what is the total of his life? A blank! He is absolutely unknown, and his fame has burst like a soap-bubble. I have been deceived; I see that now, basely deceived.