Selected plays

heaven! there's absolutely no redeeming feature about it. Haven't you noticed if you are riding through a dark wood at night and see a little light shining ahead, how you forget your fatigue and the darkness and the sharp twigs that whip your face? I work, you well know, as no one else in the district works. Fate beats me on without rest; at times I suffer unendurably and I see no light ahead. I have no hope; I don't like people. It's a long time since I've loved any one.

SONYA. You love no one?

ASTROV. Not a soul. I only feel a sort of tenderness for your old nanny for old-times' sake. The peasants are all alike; they're stupid and live in dirt, and the educated people are hard to get along with. One gets tired of them. All our good friends are petty and shallow and see no farther than their own noses; in one word, they're stupid. Those that have brains and more to offer are hysterical, devoured with a mania for self-analysis. They whine, they hate, they pick faults everywhere with unhealthy sharpness. They sneak up to me sideways, look at me out of a corner of the eye, and say: 'That man is a lunatic,' 'That man is a wind-bag.' Or, if they don't know what else to label me with, they say I am strange, odd. I like forests, so that's strange. I don't eat meat; that's strange, too. Simple, natural relations between man and man, or man and nature, don't exist. [He tries to take a drink; SONYA prevents him.]

SONYA. I beg you, I implore you, don't drink any more!

ASTROV. Why not?

SONYA. It's so unworthy of you. You're well-bred, your voice is sweet, you're so different from everyone else I know -- you're a fine, good man. Why do you want to be like the common people that drink and play cards? Oh, don't, I beg you! You always say that people don't create anything, but only destroy what heaven has given them. Why, oh, why, do you destroy yourself? Oh, don't, I implore you not to! I entreat you!

ASTROV. [Gives her his hand] I won't drink any more.

SONYA. Promise me.

ASTROV. I give you my word of honour.

SONYA. [Squeezing his hand] Thank you.

ASTROV. I've done with it. You see, I'm perfectly sober again, and so I shall stay till the end of my life. [He looks his watch] But, as I was saying, life holds nothing for me; my race is run. I'm old, I'm tired, I'm mediocre; my sensibilities are dead. I could never attach myself to any one again. I love no one, and never shall! Beauty alone has the power to touch me still. I am deeply moved by it. Helena could turn my head in a day if she wanted to, but that's not love, that's not affection --

[He shudders and covers his face with his hands.]

SONYA. What is it?

ASTROV. Nothing. During Lent one of my patients died under chloroform.

SONYA. It's time to forget that. [A pause] Tell me, doctor, if I had a friend or a younger sister, and if you knew that she, well -- loved you, what would you do?

ASTROV. [Shrugging his shoulders] I don't know. I don't think I should do anything. I should make her understand that I couldn't return her love -- after all, I've got other things on my mind. I must start at once -- it's time for me to go. Good-bye, my dear girl. At this rate we'll stand here talking till morning. [He shakes hands with her] I'll go out through the sitting-room, because I'm afraid your uncle might detain me. [He goes out.]

SONYA. [Alone] Not a word from him! His heart and soul are still hidden from me, and yet