The Cherry Orchard

We will build houses on it and our grandsons and great-grandsons will see a new life springing up there. Music! Play up! Music begins to play. Lyubov Andreyevna has sunk into a chair and is weeping bitterly. Lopahin Reproachfully. Why, why didn’t you listen to me? My poor friend! Dear lady, there’s no turning back now. With tears. Oh, if all this could be over, oh, if our miserable disjointed life could somehow soon be changed! Pishtchik Takes him by the arm, in an undertone. She’s weeping, let us go and leave her alone. Come takes him by the arm and leads him into the larger drawing-room. Lopahin What’s that? Musicians, play up! All must be as I wish it. With irony. Here comes the new master, the owner of the cherry orchard! Accidentally tips over a little table, almost upsetting the candelabra. I can pay for everything! Goes out with Pishtchik. No one remains on the stage or in the larger drawing-room except Lyubov, who sits huddled up, weeping bitterly. The music plays softly. Anya and Trofimov come in quickly. Anya goes up to her mother and falls on her knees before her. Trofimov stands at the entrance to the larger drawing-room. Anya Mamma! Mamma, you’re crying, dear, kind, good mamma! My precious! I love you! I bless you! The cherry orchard is sold, it is gone, that’s true, that’s true! But don’t weep, mamma! Life is still before you, you have still your good, pure heart! Let us go, let us go, darling, away from here! We will make a new garden, more splendid than this one; you will see it, you will understand. And joy, quiet, deep joy, will sink into your soul like the sun at evening! And you will smile, mamma! Come, darling, let us go! Curtain.

Act IV

Scene: Same as in First Act. There are neither curtains on the windows nor pictures on the walls: only a little furniture remains piled up in a corner as if for sale. There is a sense of desolation; near the outer door and in the background of the scene are packed trunks, travelling bags, etc. On the left the door is open, and from here the voices of Varya and Anya are audible. Lopahin is standing waiting. Yasha is holding a tray with glasses full of champagne. In front of the stage Epihodov is tying up a box. In the background behind the scene a hum of talk from the peasants who have come to say goodbye. The voice of Gaev: “Thanks, brothers, thanks!”

Yasha	The peasants have come to say goodbye. In my opinion, Yermolay Alexeyevitch, the peasants are good-natured, but they don’t know much about things.
	The hum of talk dies away. Enter across front of stage Lyubov Andreyevna and Gaev. She is not weeping, but is pale; her face is quivering⁠—she cannot speak.
Gaev	You gave them your purse, Lyuba. That won’t do⁠—that won’t do!
Lyubov	I couldn’t help it! I couldn’t help it!
	Both go out.
Lopahin	In the doorway, calls after them. You will take a glass at parting? Please do. I didn’t think to bring any from the town, and at the station I could only get one bottle. Please take a glass a pause. What? You don’t care for any? Comes away from the door. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have bought it. Well, and I’m not going to drink it. Yasha carefully sets the tray down on a chair. You have a glass, Yasha, anyway.
Yasha	Good luck to the travellers, and luck to those that stay behind! Drinks. This champagne isn’t the real thing, I can assure you.
Lopahin	It cost eight roubles the bottle a pause. It’s devilish cold here.
Yasha	They haven’t heated the stove today⁠—it’s all the same since we’re going laughs.
Lopahin	What are you laughing for?
Yasha	For pleasure.
Lopahin	Though it’s October, it’s as still and sunny as though it were summer. It’s just right for building! Looks at his watch; says in doorway. Take note, ladies and gentlemen, the train goes in forty-seven minutes; so you ought to start for the station in twenty minutes. You must hurry up!
	Trofimov comes in from out of doors wearing a greatcoat.
Trofimov	I think it must be time to start, the horses are ready. The devil only knows what’s become of my goloshes; they’re lost. In the doorway. Anya! My goloshes aren’t here. I can’t find them.
Lopahin	And I’m getting off to Harkov. I am going in the same train with you. I’m spending all the winter at Harkov. I’ve been wasting all my time gossiping with you and fretting with no work to do. I can’t get on without work. I don’t know what to do with my hands, they flap about so queerly, as if they didn’t belong to me.
Trofimov	Well, we’re just going away, and you will take up your profitable labours again.
Lopahin	Do take a glass.
Trofimov	No, thanks.
Lopahin	Then you’re going to Moscow now?
Trofimov	Yes. I shall see them as far as the town, and tomorrow I shall go on to Moscow.
Lopahin	Yes, I daresay, the professors aren’t giving any lectures, they’re waiting for your arrival.
Trofimov	That’s not your business.
Lopahin	How many years have you been at the University?
Trofimov	Do think of something newer than that⁠—that’s stale and flat hunts for goloshes. You know we shall most likely never see each other again, so let me give you one piece of advice at parting: don’t wave your arms about⁠—get out of the habit. And another thing, building villas, reckoning up that the summer visitors will in time become independent farmers⁠—reckoning like that, that’s not the thing to do either. After all, I am fond of you: you have fine delicate fingers like an artist, you’ve a fine delicate soul.
Lopahin	Embraces him.