Антон Чехов
Plays by Anton Chekhov, Second Series
[Several of the tramps, etc., approach the bar and form a group. MERIK grips TIHON’s hand firmly with both his, looks at the portrait, in the medallion in silence. A pause.]
MERIK. A pretty she-devil. A real lady…
FEDYA. A real lady… Look at her cheeks, her eyes… Open your hand, I can’t see. Hair coming down to her waist… It is lifelike! She might be going to say something… [Pause.]
MERIK. It’s destruction for a weak man. A woman like that gets a hold on one and… [Waves his hand] you’re done for!
[KUSMA’S voice is heard. “Trrr… Stop, you brutes!” Enter KUSMA.]
KUSMA. There stands an inn upon my way. Shall I drive or walk past it, say? You can pass your own father and not notice him, but you can see an inn in the dark a hundred versts away. Make way, if you believe in God! Hullo, there! [Planks a five-copeck piece down on the counter] A glass of real Madeira! Quick!
FEDYA. Oh, you devil!
TIHON. Don’t wave your arms about, or you’ll hit somebody.
KUSMA. God gave us arms to wave about. Poor sugary things, you’re half-melted. You’re frightened of the rain, poor delicate things. [Drinks.]
EFIMOVNA. You may well get frightened, good man, if you’re caught on your way in a night like this. Now, thank God, it’s all right, there are many villages and houses where you can shelter from the weather, but before that there weren’t any. Oh, Lord, it was bad! You walk a hundred versts, and not only isn’t there a village; or a house, but you don’t even see a dry stick. So you sleep on the ground…
KUSMA. Have you been long on this earth, old woman?
EFIMOVNA. Over seventy years, little father.
KUSMA. Over seventy years! You’ll soon come to crow’s years. [Looks at BORTSOV] And what sort of a raisin is this? [Staring at BORTSOV] Sir! [BORTSOV recognizes KUSMA and retires in confusion to a corner of the room, where he sits on a bench] Semyon Sergeyevitch! Is that you, or isn’t it? Eh? What are you doing in this place? It’s not the sort of place for you, is it?
BORTSOV. Be quiet!
MERIK. [To KUSMA] Who is it?
KUSMA. A miserable sufferer. [Paces irritably by the counter] Eh? In an inn, my goodness! Tattered! Drunk! I’m upset, brothers… upset… [To MERIK, in an undertone] It’s my master… our landlord. Semyon Sergeyevitch and Mr. Bortsov… Have you ever seen such a state? What does he look like? Just… it’s the drink that brought him to this… Give me some more! [Drinks] I come from his village, Bortsovka; you may have heard of it, it’s 200 versts from here, in the Ergovsky district. We used to be his father’s serfs… What a shame!
MERIK. Was he rich?
KUSMA. Very.
MERIK. Did he drink it all?
KUSMA. No, my friend, it was something else… He used to be great and rich and sober… [To TIHON] Why you yourself used to see him riding, as he used to, past this inn, on his way to the town. Such bold and noble horses! A carriage on springs, of the best quality! He used to own five troikas, brother… Five years ago, I remember, he cam here driving two horses from Mikishinsky, and he paid with a five-rouble piece… I haven’t the time, he says, to wait for the change… There!
MERIK. His brain’s gone, I suppose.
KUSMA. His brain’s all right… It all happened because of his cowardice! From too much fat. First of all, children, because of a woman… He fell in love with a woman of the town, and it seemed to him that there wasn’t any more beautiful thing in the wide world. A fool may love as much as a wise man. The girl’s people were all right… But she wasn’t exactly loose, but just… giddy… always changing her mind! Always winking at one! Always laughing and laughing… No sense at all. The gentry like that, they think that’s nice, but we moujiks would soon chuck her out… Well, he fell in love, and his luck ran out. He began to keep company with her, one thing led to another… they used to go out in a boat all night, and play pianos…
BORTSOV. Don’t tell them, Kusma! Why should you? What has my life got to do with them?
KUSMA. Forgive me, your honour, I’m only telling them a little… what does it matter, anyway… I’m shaking all over. Pour out some more. [Drinks.]
MERIK. [In a semitone] And did she love him?
KUSMA. [In a semitone which gradually becomes his ordinary voice] How shouldn’t she? He was a man of means… Of course you’ll fall in love when the man has a thousand dessiatins and money to burn… He was a solid, dignified, sober gentleman… always the same, like this… give me your hand [Takes MERIK’S hand] “How do you do and good-bye, do me the favour.” Well, I was going one evening past his garden – and what a garden, brother, versts of it – I was going along quietly, and I look and see the two of them sitting on a seat and kissing each other. [Imitates the sound] He kisses her once, and the snake gives him back two… He was holding her white, little hand, and she was all fiery and kept on getting closer and closer, too… “I love you,” she says. And he, like one of the damned, walks about from one place to another and brags, the coward, about his happiness… Gives one man a rouble, and two to another… Gives me money for a horse. Let off everybody’s debts…
BORTSOV. Oh, why tell them all about it? These people haven’t any sympathy… It hurts!
KUSMA. It’s nothing, sir! They asked me! Why shouldn’t I tell them? But if you are angry I won’t… I won’t… What do I care for them… [Post-bells are heard.]
FEDYA. Don’t shout; tell us quietly…
KUSMA. I’ll tell you quietly… He doesn’t want me to, but it can’t be helped… But there’s nothing more to tell. They got married, that’s all. There was nothing else. Pour out another drop for Kusma the stony! [Drinks] I don’t like people getting drunk! Why the time the wedding took place, when the gentlefolk sat down to supper afterwards, she went off in a carriage… [Whispers] To the town, to her lover, a lawyer… Eh? What do you think of her now? Just at the very moment! She would be let off lightly if she were killed for it!
MERIK. [Thoughtfully] Well… what happened then?
KUSMA. He went mad… As you see, he started with a fly, as they say, and now it’s grown to a bumble-bee. It was a fly then, and now – it’s a bumble-bee… And he still loves her. Look at him, he loves her! I expect he’s walking now to the town to get a glimpse of her with one eye… He’ll get a glimpse of her, and go back…
[The post has driven up to the in.. The POSTMAN enters and has a drink.]
TIHON. The post’s late to-day!
[The POSTMAN pays in silence and goes out. The post drives off, the bells ringing.]
A VOICE FROM THE CORNER. One could rob the post in weather like this – easy as spitting.
MERIK. I’ve been alive thirty-five years and I haven’t robbed the post once… [Pause] It’s gone now… too late, too late…
KUSMA. Do you want to smell the inside of a prison?
MERIK. People rob and don’t go to prison. And if I do go! [Suddenly] What else?
KUSMA. Do you mean that unfortunate?
MERIK. Who else?
KUSMA. The second reason, brothers, why he was ruined was because of his brother-in-law, his sister’s husband… He took it into his head to stand surety at the bank for 30,000 roubles for his brother-in-law. The brother-in-law’s a thief… The swindler knows which side his bread’s buttered and won’t budge an inch… So he doesn’t pay up… So our man had to pay up the whole thirty thousand. [Sighs] The fool is suffering for his folly. His wife’s got children now by the lawyer and the brother-in-law has bought an estate near Poltava, and our man goes round inns like a fool, and complains to the likes of us: “I’ve lost all faith, brothers! I can’t believe in anybody now!” It’s cowardly! Every man has his grief, a snake that sucks at his heart, and does that mean that he must drink? Take our village elder, for example. His wife plays about with the schoolmaster in broad daylight, and spends his money on drink, but the elder walks about smiling to himself. He’s just a little thinner…
TIHON. [Sighs] When God gives a man strength…
KUSMA. There’s all sorts of strength, that’s true… Well? How much does it come to? [Pays] Take your pound of flesh! Good-bye, children! Good-night and pleasant dreams! It’s time I hurried off. I’m bringing my lady a midwife from the hospital… She must be getting wet with waiting, poor thing… [Runs out. A pause.]
TIHON. Oh, you! Unhappy man, come and drink this! [Pours out.]
BORTSOV. [Comes up to the bar hesitatingly and drinks] That means I now owe you for two glasses.
TIHON. You don’t owe me anything? Just drink and drown your sorrows!
FEDYA. Drink mine, too, sir! Oh! [Throws down a five-copeck piece] If you drink, you die; if you don’t drink, you die. It’s good not to drink vodka, but by God you’re easier when you’ve got some! Vodka takes grief away… It is hot!
BORTSOV. Boo! The heat!
MERIK. Dive it here! [Takes the medallion from TIHON and examines her portrait] Hm. Ran off after the wedding. What a woman!
A VOICE FROM THE CORNER. Pour him out another glass, Tihon. Let him drink mine, too.
MERIK. [Dashes the medallion to the ground] Curse her! [Goes quickly to his place and lies down, face to the wall. General excitement.]
BORTSOV. Here, what’s that? [Picks up the medallion] How dare you, you beast? What right have you? [Tearfully] Do you want me to kill you? You moujik! You boor!
TIHON. Don’t be angry, sir… It isn’t glass, it isn’t broken… Have another drink and go to sleep. [Pours out] Here I’ve been listening to you all, and when I ought to have locked up long ago. [Goes and looks door leading out.]
BORTSOV. [Drinks] How dare he? The fool! [to MERIK] Do you understand? You’re a fool, a donkey!
SAVVA. Children! If you please! Stop that talking! What’s the good of making a noise? Let people go to sleep.
TIHON. Lie down, lie down… be quiet! [Goes behind the counter and locks the till] It’s time to sleep.
FEDYA. It’s time! [Lies down] Pleasant dreams, brothers!
MERIK. [Gets up and spreads his short fur and coat the bench] Come on, lie down, sir.
TIHON. And where will you sleep.
MERIK. Oh, anywhere… The floor will do… [Spreads a coat on the floor] It’s all one to me [Puts the axe by him] It would be torture for him to sleep on the floor. He’s used to silk and down…
TIHON. [To BORTSOV] Lie down, your honour! You’ve looked at that portrait long enough. [Puts out a candle] Throw it away!
BORTSOV. [Swaying about] Where can I lie down?
TIHON. In the tramp’s place! Didn’t you hear him giving it up to you?
BORTSOV. [Going up to the vacant place] I’m a bit… drunk… after all that… Is this it?.. Do I lie down here? Eh?
TIHON. Yes, yes, lie down, don’t be afraid. [Stretches himself out on the counter.]
BORTSOV. [Lying down] I’m… drunk… Everything’s going round… [Opens the medallion] Haven’t you a little candle? [Pause] You’re a queer little woman Masha… Looking at me out of the frame and laughing… [Laughs] I’m drunk! And should you laugh at a man because he’s drunk? You look out, as Schastlivtsev says, and… love the drunkard.
FEDYA. How the wind howls. It’s dreary!
BORTSOV. [Laughs] What a woman… Why do you keep on going round? I can’t catch you!
MERIK. He’s wandering. Looked too long at the portrait. [Laughs] What a business! Educated people go and invent all sorts of machines and medicines, but there hasn’t yet been a man wise enough to invent a medicine against the female sex… They try to cure every sort of disease, and it never occurs to them that more people die of women than of disease… Sly, stingy, cruel, brainless… The mother-in-law torments the bride and the bride makes things square by swindling the husband… and there’s no end to it…
TIHON. The women have ruffled his hair for him, and so he’s bristly.
MERIK. It isn’t only I… From the beginning of the ages, since the world has been in existence, people have complained… It’s not for nothing that in the songs and stories, the devil and the woman are put side by side… Not for nothing! It’s half true, at any rate… [Pause] Here’s the gentleman playing the fool, but I had more sense, didn’t I, when I left my father and mother, and became a tramp?
FEDYA. Because of women?
MERIK. Just like the gentleman… I walked about like one of the damned, bewitched, blessing my stars… on fire day and night, until at last my eyes were opened… It wasn’t love, but just a fraud…
FEDYA. What did you do to her?
MERIK. Never you mind… [Pause] Do you think I killed her?.. I wouldn’t do it… If you kill, you are sorry for it… She can live and be happy! If only I’d never set eyes on you, or if I could only forget you, you viper’s brood! [A knocking at the door.]
TIHON. Whom have the devils brought… Who’s there? [Knocking] Who knocks? [Gets up and goes to the door] Who knocks? Go away, we’ve locked up!
A VOICE. Please let me in, Tihon. The carriage-spring’s broken! Be a father to me and help me! If I only had a little string to tie it round with, we’d get there somehow or other.
TIHON. Who are you?
THE VOICE. My lady is going to Varsonofyev from the town… It’s only five versts farther on… Do be a good man and help!
TIHON. Go and tell the lady that if she pays ten roubles she can have her string and we’ll mend the spring.
THE VOICE. Have you gone mad, or what? Ten roubles! You mad dog! Profiting by our misfortunes!
TIHON. Just as you like… You needn’t if you don’t want to.
THE VOICE. Very well, wait a bit. [Pause] She says, all right.
TIHON. Pleased to hear it!
[Opens door. The COACHMAN enters.]
COACHMAN. Good evening, Orthodox people! Well, give me the string! Quick! Who’ll go and help us, children? There’ll be something left over for your trouble!
TIHON. There won’t be anything left over… Let them sleep, the two of us can manage.
COACHMAN. Foo, I am tired! It’s cold, and there’s not a dry spot in all the mud… Another thing, dear… Have you got a little room in here for the lady to warm herself in? The carriage is all on one side, she can’t stay in it…
TIHON. What does she want a room for? She can warm herself in here, if she’s cold… We’ll find a place [Clears a space next to BORTSOV] Get up, get up! Just lie on the floor for an hour, and let the lady get warm. [To BORTSOV] Get up, your honour! Sit up! [BORTSOV sits up] Here’s a place for you. [Exit COACHMAN.]
FEDYA. Here’s a visitor for you, the devil’s brought her! Now there’ll be no sleep before daylight.
TIHON. I’m sorry I didn’t ask for fifteen… She’d have given them… [Stands expectantly before the door] You’re a delicate sort of people, I must say. [Enter MARIA EGOROVNA, followed by the COACHMAN. TIHON bows.] Please, your highness! Our room is very humble, full of blackbeetles! But don’t disdain it!
MARIA EGOROVNA. I can’t see anything… Which way do I go?
TIHON. This way, your highness! [Leads her to the place next to BORTSOV] This way, please. [Blows on the place] I haven’t any separate rooms, excuse me, but don’t you be afraid, madam, the people here are good and quiet…
MARIA EGOROVNA. [Sits next to BORTSOV] How awfully stuffy! Open the door, at any rate!
TIHON. Yes, madam. [Runs and opens the door wide.]
MARIA. We’re freezing, and you open the door! [Gets up and slams it] Who are you to be giving orders? [Lies down]
TIHON. Excuse me, your highness, but we’ve a little fool here… a bit cracked… But don’t you be frightened, he won’t do you any harm… Only you must excuse me, madam, I can’t do this for ten roubles… Make it fifteen.
MARIA EGOROVNA. Very well, only be quick.
TIHON. This minute… this very instant. [Drags some string out from under the counter] This minute. [A pause.]
BORTSOV. [Looking at MARIA EGOROVNA] Marie… Masha…
MARIA EGOROVNA. [Looks at BORTSOV] What’s this?
BORTSOV. Marie… is it you? Where do you come from? [MARIA EGOROVNA recognizes BORTSOV, screams and runs off into the centre of the floor. BORTSOV follows] Marie, it is I… I [Laughs loudly] My wife! Marie! Where am I? People, a light!
MARIA EGOROVNA. Get away from me! You lie, it isn’t you! It can’t be! [Covers her face with her hands] It’s a lie, it’s all nonsense!
BORTSOV. Her voice, her movements… Marie, it is I! I’ll stop in a moment… I was drunk… My head’s going round… My God! Stop, stop… I can’t understand anything. [Yells] My wife! [Falls at her feet and sobs. A group collects around the husband and wife.]
MARIA EGOROVNA. Stand back! [To the COACHMAN] Denis, let’s go! I can’t stop here any longer!
MERIK. [Jumps up and looks her steadily in the face] The portrait! [Grasps her hand] It is she! Eh, people, she’s the gentleman’s wife!
MARIA EGOROVNA. Get away, fellow! [Tries to tear her hand away from him] Denis, why do you stand there staring? [DENIS and TIHON run up to her and get hold of MERIK’S arms] This thieves’ kitchen! Let go my hand! I’m not afraid!.. Get away from me!
MERIK. [Note: Throughout this speech, in the original, Merik uses the familiar second person singular.] Wait a bit, and I’ll let go… Just let me say one word to you… One word, so that you may understand… Just wait… [Turns to TIHON and DENIS] Get away, you rogues, let go! I shan’t let you go till I’ve had my say! Stop… one moment. [Strikes his forehead with his fist] No, God hasn’t given me the wisdom! I can’t think of the word for you!
MARIA EGOROVNA. [Tears away her hand] Get away! Drunkards… let’s go, Denis!
[She tries to go out, but MERIK blocks the door.]
MERIK. Just throw a glance at him, with only one eye if you like! Or say only just one kind little word to him! God’s own sake!
MARIA EGOROVNA. Take away this… fool.
MERIK. Then the devil take you, you accursed woman!
[He swings his axe. General confusion. Everybody jumps up noisily and with cries of horror. SAVVA stands between MERIK and MARIA EGOROVNA… DENIS forces MERIK to one side and carries out his mistress. After this all stand as if turned to stone. A prolonged pause. BORTSOV suddenly waves his hands in the air.]
BORTSOV. Marie… where are you, Marie!
NAZAROVNA. My God, my God! You’ve torn up my your murderers! What an accursed night!
MERIK. [Lowering his hand; he still holds the axe] Did I kill her or no?
HIGH ROAD
TIHON. Thank God, your head is safe…
MERIK. Then I didn’t kill her… [Totters to his bed] Fate hasn’t sent me to my death because of a stolen axe… [Falls down and sobs] Woe! Woe is me! Have pity on me, Orthodox people!
Curtain
THE PROPOSAL
CHARACTERS
STEPAN STEPANOVITCH CHUBUKOV, a landowner
NATALYA STEPANOVNA, his daughter, twenty-five years old
IVAN VASSILEVITCH LOMOV, a neighbour of Chubukov, a large and hearty, but very suspicious landowner
The scene is laid at CHUBUKOV’s country-house
A drawing-room in CHUBUKOV’S house.
[LOMOV enters, wearing a dress-jacket and white gloves. CHUBUKOV rises to meet him.]
CHUBUKOV. My dear fellow, whom do I see! Ivan Vassilevitch! I am extremely glad! [Squeezes his hand] Now this is a surprise, my darling… How are you?
LOMOV. Thank you. And how may you be getting on?
CHUBUKOV. We just get along somehow, my angel, to your prayers, and so on. Sit down, please do… Now, you know, you shouldn’t forget all about your neighbours, my darling. My dear fellow, why are you so formal in your get-up? Evening dress, gloves, and so on. Can you be going anywhere, my treasure?
LOMOV. No, I’ve come only to see you, honoured Stepan Stepanovitch.
CHUBUKOV. Then why are you in evening dress, my precious? As if you’re paying a New Year’s Eve visit!
LOMOV. Well, you see, it’s like this. [Takes his arm] I’ve come to you, honoured Stepan Stepanovitch, to trouble you with a request. Not once or twice have I already had the privilege of applying to you for help, and you have always, so to speak… I must ask your pardon, I am getting excited. I shall drink some water, honoured Stepan Stepanovitch. [Drinks.]
CHUBUKOV. [Aside] He’s come to borrow money! Shan’t give him any! [Aloud] What is it, my beauty?
LOMOV. You see, Honour Stepanitch… I beg pardon, Stepan Honouritch… I mean, I’m awfully excited, as you will please notice… In short, you alone can help me, though I don’t deserve it, of course… and haven’t any right to count on your assistance…
CHUBUKOV. Oh, don’t go round and round it, darling! Spit it out! Well?
LOMOV. One moment… this very minute. The fact is, I’ve come to ask the hand of your daughter, Natalya Stepanovna, in marriage.
CHUBUKOV. [Joyfully] By Jove! Ivan Vassilevitch! Say it again – I didn’t hear it all!
LOMOV. I have the honour to ask…
CHUBUKOV. [Interrupting] My dear fellow… I’m so glad, and so on… Yes, indeed, and all that sort of thing. [Embraces and kisses LOMOV] I’ve been hoping for it for a long time. It’s been my continual desire. [Sheds a tear] And I’ve always loved you, my angel, as if you were my own son. May God give you both His help and His love and so on, and I did so much hope… What am I behaving in this idiotic way for? I’m off my balance with joy, absolutely off my balance! Oh, with all my soul… I’ll go and call Natasha, and all that.
LOMOV. [Greatly moved] Honoured Stepan Stepanovitch, do you think I may count on her consent?
CHUBUKOV. Why, of course, my darling, and… as if she won’t consent! She’s in love; egad, she’s like a love-sick cat, and so on… Shan’t be long! [Exit.]
LOMOV. It’s cold… I’m trembling all over, just as if I’d got an examination before me. The great thing is, I must have my mind made up. If I give myself time to think, to hesitate, to talk a lot, to look for an ideal, or for real love, then I’ll never get married… Brr!.. It’s cold! Natalya Stepanovna is an excellent housekeeper, not bad-looking, well-educated… What more do I want? But I’m getting a noise in my ears from excitement. [Drinks] And it’s impossible for me not to marry… In the first place, I’m already 35 – a critical age, so to speak. In the second place, I ought to lead a quiet and regular life… I suffer from palpitations, I’m excitable and always getting awfully upset… At this very moment my lips are trembling, and there’s a twitch in my right eyebrow… But the very worst of all is the way I sleep. I no sooner get into bed and begin to go off when suddenly something in my left side – gives a pull, and I can feel it in my shoulder and head… I jump up like a lunatic, walk about a bit, and lie down again, but as soon as I begin to get off to sleep there’s another pull! And this may happen twenty times…
[NATALYA STEPANOVNA comes in.]
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Well, there! It’s you, and papa said, “Go; there’s a merchant come for his goods.” How do you do, Ivan Vassilevitch!
LOMOV. How do you do, honoured Natalya Stepanovna?
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. You must excuse my apron and négligé… we’re shelling peas for drying. Why haven’t you been here for such a long time? Sit down. [They seat themselves] Won’t you have some lunch?
LOMOV. No, thank you, I’ve had some already.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Then smoke… Here are the matches… The weather is splendid now, but yesterday it was so wet that the workmen didn’t do anything all day. How much hay have you stacked? Just think, I felt greedy and had a whole field cut, and now I’m not at all pleased about it because I’m afraid my hay may rot. I ought to have waited a bit. But what’s this? Why, you’re in evening dress! Well, I never! Are you going to a ball, or what? – though I must say you look better. Tell me, why are you got up like that?
LOMOV. [Excited] You see, honoured Natalya Stepanovna… the fact is, I’ve made up my mind to ask you to hear me out… Of course you’ll be surprised and perhaps even angry, but a… [Aside] It’s awfully cold!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. What’s the matter? [Pause] Well?
LOMOV. I shall try to be brief. You must know, honoured Natalya Stepanovna, that I have long, since my childhood, in fact, had the privilege of knowing your family. My late aunt and her husband, from whom, as you know, I inherited my land, always had the greatest respect for your father and your late mother. The Lomovs and the Chubukovs have always had the most friendly, and I might almost say the most affectionate, regard for each other. And, as you know, my land is a near neighbour of yours. You will remember that my Oxen Meadows touch your birchwoods.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Excuse my interrupting you. You say, “my Oxen Meadows…” But are they yours?
LOMOV. Yes, mine.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. What are you talking about? Oxen Meadows are ours, not yours!
LOMOV. No, mine, honoured Natalya Stepanovna.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Well, I never knew that before. How do you make that out?
LOMOV. How? I’m speaking of those Oxen Meadows which are wedged in between your birchwoods and the Burnt Marsh.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Yes, yes… They’re ours.
LOMOV. No, you’re mistaken, honoured Natalya Stepanovna, they’re mine.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Just think, Ivan Vassilevitch! How long have they been yours?
LOMOV. How long? As long as I can remember.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Really, you won’t get me to believe that!
LOMOV. But you can see from the documents, honoured Natalya Stepanovna. Oxen Meadows, it’s true, were once the subject of dispute, but now everybody knows that they are mine. There’s nothing to argue about. You see, my aunt’s grandmother gave the free use of these Meadows in perpetuity to the peasants of your father’s grandfather, in return for which they were to make bricks for her. The peasants belonging to your father’s grandfather had the free use of the Meadows for forty years, and had got into the habit of regarding them as their own, when it happened that…
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. No, it isn’t at all like that! Both my grandfather and great-grandfather reckoned that their land extended to Burnt Marsh – which means that Oxen Meadows were ours. I don’t see what there is to argue about. It’s simply silly!
LOMOV. I’ll show you the documents, Natalya Stepanovna!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. No, you’re simply joking, or making fun of me… What a surprise! We’ve had the land for nearly three hundred years, and then we’re suddenly told that it isn’t ours! Ivan Vassilevitch, I can hardly believe my own ears… These Meadows aren’t worth much to me. They only come to five dessiatins [Note: 13.5 acres], and are worth perhaps 300 roubles [Note: £30.], but I can’t stand unfairness. Say what you will, but I can’t stand unfairness.
LOMOV. Hear me out, I implore you! The peasants of your father’s grandfather, as I have already had the honour of explaining to you, used to bake bricks for my aunt’s grandmother. Now my aunt’s grandmother, wishing to make them a pleasant…
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. I can’t make head or tail of all this about aunts and grandfathers and grandmothers! The Meadows are ours, and that’s all.
LOMOV. Mine.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Ours! You can go on proving it for two days on end, you can go and put on fifteen dress-jackets, but I tell you they’re ours, ours, ours! I don’t want anything of yours and I don’t want to give up anything of mine. So there!
LOMOV. Natalya Ivanovna, I don’t want the Meadows, but I am acting on principle. If you like, I’ll make you a present of them.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. I can make you a present of them myself, because they’re mine! Your behaviour, Ivan Vassilevitch, is strange, to say the least! Up to this we have always thought of you as a good neighbour, a friend: last year we lent you our threshing-machine, although on that account we had to put off our own threshing till November, but you behave to us as if we were gipsies. Giving me my own land, indeed! No, really, that’s not at all neighbourly! In my opinion, it’s even impudent, if you want to know…
LOMOV. Then you make out that I’m a land-grabber? Madam, never in my life have I grabbed anybody else’s land, and I shan’t allow anybody to accuse me of having done so… [Quickly steps to the carafe and drinks more water] Oxen Meadows are mine!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. It’s not true, they’re ours!
LOMOV. Mine!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. It’s not true! I’ll prove it! I’ll send my mowers out to the Meadows this very day!
LOMOV. What?
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. My mowers will be there this very day!
LOMOV. I’ll give it to them in the neck!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. You dare!
LOMOV. [Clutches at his heart] Oxen Meadows are mine! You understand? Mine!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Please don’t shout! You can shout yourself hoarse in your own house, but here I must ask you to restrain yourself!
LOMOV. If it wasn’t, madam, for this awful, excruciating palpitation, if my whole inside wasn’t upset, I’d talk to you in a different way! [Yells] Oxen Meadows are mine!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Ours!
LOMOV. Mine!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Ours!
LOMOV. Mine!
[Enter CHUBUKOV.]
CHUBUKOV. What’s the matter? What are you shouting at?
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Papa, please tell to this gentleman who owns Oxen Meadows, we or he?
CHUBUKOV. [To LOMOV] Darling, the Meadows are ours!
LOMOV. But, please, Stepan Stepanitch, how can they be yours? Do be a reasonable man! My aunt’s grandmother gave the Meadows for the temporary and free use of your grandfather’s peasants. The peasants used the land for forty years and got as accustomed to it as if it was their own, when it happened that…
CHUBUKOV. Excuse me, my precious… You forget just this, that the peasants didn’t pay your grandmother and all that, because the Meadows were in dispute, and so on. And now everybody knows that they’re ours. It means that you haven’t seen the plan.
LOMOV. I’ll prove to you that they’re mine!
CHUBUKOV. You won’t prove it, my darling.
LOMOV. I shall!
CHUBUKOV. Dear one, why yell like that? You won’t prove anything just by yelling. I don’t want anything of yours, and don’t intend to give up what I have. Why should I? And you know, my beloved, that if you propose to go on arguing about it, I’d much sooner give up the meadows to the peasants than to you. There!
LOMOV. I don’t understand! How have you the right to give away somebody else’s property?
CHUBUKOV. You may take it that I know whether I have the right or not. Because, young man, I’m not used to being spoken to in that tone of voice, and so on: I, young man, am twice your age, and ask you to speak to me without agitating yourself, and all that.
LOMOV. No, you just think I’m a fool and want to have me on! You call my land yours, and then you want me to talk to you calmly and politely! Good neighbours don’t behave like that, Stepan Stepanitch! You’re not a neighbour, you’re a grabber!
