The Cherry Orchard

epub:type="z3998:persona">Trofimov’s hand. Don’t think ill of me, Petya, don’t tell me anything, don’t tell me⁠ ⁠… Trofimov Through his tears. For God’s sake forgive my frankness: why, he robbed you! Lyubov No! No! No! You mustn’t speak like that covers her ears. Trofimov He is a wretch! You’re the only person that doesn’t know it! He’s a worthless creature! A despicable wretch! Lyubov Getting angry, but speaking with restraint. You’re twenty-six or twenty-seven years old, but you’re still a schoolboy. Trofimov Possibly. Lyubov You should be a man at your age! You should understand what love means! And you ought to be in love yourself. You ought to fall in love! Angrily. Yes, yes, and it’s not purity in you, you’re simply a prude, a comic fool, a freak. Trofimov In horror. The things she’s saying! Lyubov I am above love! You’re not above love, but simply as our Firs here says, “You are a good-for-nothing.” At your age not to have a mistress! Trofimov In horror. This is awful! The things she is saying! Goes rapidly into the larger drawing-room clutching his head. This is awful! I can’t stand it! I’m going! Goes off, but at once returns. All is over between us! Goes off into the anteroom. Lyubov Shouts after him. Petya! Wait a minute! You funny creature! I was joking! Petya! There is a sound of somebody running quickly downstairs and suddenly falling with a crash. Anya and Varya scream, but there is a sound of laughter at once. Lyubov What has happened? Anya runs in. Anya Laughing. Petya’s fallen downstairs! Runs out. Lyubov What a queer fellow that Petya is! The Station Master stands in the middle of the larger room and reads “The Magdalene,” by Alexey Tolstoy. They listen to him, but before he has recited many lines strains of a waltz are heard from the anteroom and the reading is broken off. All dance. Trofimov, Anya, Varya and Lyubov Andreyevna come in from the anteroom. Lyubov Come, Petya⁠—come, pure heart! I beg your pardon. Let’s have a dance! Dances with Petya. Anya and Varya dance. Firs comes in, puts his stick down near the side door. Yasha also comes into the drawing-room and looks on at the dancing. Yasha What is it, old man? Firs I don’t feel well. In old days we used to have generals, barons and admirals dancing at our balls, and now we send for the post-office clerk and the station master and even they’re not overanxious to come. I am getting feeble. The old master, the grandfather, used to give sealing-wax for all complaints. I have been taking sealing-wax for twenty years or more. Perhaps that’s what’s kept me alive. Yasha You bore me, old man! Yawns. It’s time you were done with. Firs Ach, you’re a good-for-nothing! Mutters. Trofimov and Lyubov Andreyevna dance in the larger room and then on to the stage. Lyubov Merci. I’ll sit down a little sits down. I’m tired. Enter Anya. Anya Excitedly. There’s a man in the kitchen has been saying that the cherry orchard’s been sold today. Lyubov Sold to whom? Anya He didn’t say to whom. He’s gone away. She dances with Trofimov, and they go off into the larger room. Yasha There was an old man gossiping there, a stranger. Firs Leonid Andreyevitch isn’t here yet, he hasn’t come back. He has his light overcoat on, demi-saison, he’ll catch cold for sure. Ach! Foolish young things!! Lyubov I feel as though I should die. Go, Yasha, find out to whom it has been sold. Yasha But he went away long ago, the old chap laughs. Lyubov With slight vexation. What are you laughing at? What are you pleased at? Yasha Epihodov is so funny. He’s a silly fellow, two and twenty misfortunes. Lyubov Firs, if the estate is sold, where will you go? Firs Where you bid me, there I’ll go. Lyubov Why do you look like that? Are you ill? You ought to be in bed. Firs Yes ironically. Me go to bed and who’s to wait here? Who’s to see to things without me? I’m the only one in all the house. Yasha To Lyubov Andreyevna. Lyubov Andreyevna, permit me to make a request of you; if you go back to Paris again, be so kind as to take me with you. It’s positively impossible for me to stay here looking about him; in an undertone. There’s no need to say it, you see for yourself⁠—an uncivilised country, the people have no morals, and then the dullness! The food in the kitchen’s abominable, and then Firs runs after one muttering all sorts of unsuitable words. Take me with you, please do! Enter Pishtchik. Pishtchik Allow me to ask you for a waltz, my dear lady. Lyubov Andreyevna goes with him. Enchanting lady, I really must borrow of you just 180 roubles dances, only 180 roubles. They pass into the larger room. Yasha Hums softly. “Knowest thou my soul’s emotion.” In the larger drawing-room, a figure in a grey top hat and in check trousers is gesticulating and jumping about. Shouts of “Bravo, Charlotta Ivanovna.” Dunyasha She has stopped to powder herself. My young lady tells me to dance. There are plenty of gentlemen, and too few ladies, but dancing makes me giddy and makes my heart beat. Firs, the post-office clerk said something to me just now that quite took my breath away. Music becomes more subdued. Firs What did he say to you? Dunyasha He said I was like a flower. Yasha Yawns. What ignorance! Goes out. Dunyasha Like a flower. I am a girl of such delicate feelings, I am awfully fond of soft speeches. Firs Your head’s being turned. Enter Epihodov. Epihodov You have no desire to see me, Dunyasha. I might be an insect sighs. Ah! life! Dunyasha What is it you want? Epihodov Undoubtedly you may be right sighs.