Selected plays

was eleven years ago -- [thoughtfully] perhaps more.

ASTROV. Have I changed much since then?

MARINA. Oh, yes. You were handsome and young then, and now you're an old man and not handsome any more. You drink now, too.

ASTROV. Yes, ten years have made me another man. And why? Because I'm overworked. Nanny, I'm on my feet from dawn till dusk. I know no rest; at night I tremble under my blankets for fear of being dragged out to visit some one who is sick; I've toiled without repose or a day's freedom since I've known you; could I help growing old? And then, existence here is tedious, anyway; it's a senseless, dirty business, this life, and gets you down. Everyone about here is eccentric, and after living with them for two or three years one grows eccentric oneself. It's inevitable. [Twisting his moustache] See what a long moustache I've grown. A foolish, long moustache. Yes, I'm as eccentric as the rest, Nanny, but not as stupid; no, I haven't grown stupid. Thank God, my brain isn't addled yet, though my feelings have grown numb. I want nothing, I need nothing, I love no one, unless it is yourself alone. [He kisses her head] I had a nanny just like you when I was a child.

MARINA. Don't you want a bite of something to eat?

ASTROV. No. During the third week of Lent I went to the epidemic at Malitskoe. It was an outbreak of typhoid fever. The peasants were all lying side by side in their huts, and the calves and pigs were running about the floor among the sick. Such dirt there was, and smoke! Unspeakable! I slaved among those people all day, not a crumb passed my lips, but when I got home there was still no rest for me; a switchman was carried in from the railroad; I laid him on the operating table and he went and died in my arms under chloroform, and then my feelings that should've been deadened awoke again, my conscience tortured me as if I had killed the man. I sat down and closed my eyes -- like this -- and thought: will our descendants one or two hundred years from now, for whom we're clearing the way, remember to give us a kind word? No, Nanny, they'll forget us.

MARINA. Man is forgetful, but God remembers.

ASTROV. Thank you for that. You've spoken the truth.

Enter VOYNITSKY from the house. He has been asleep after dinner and looks rather dishevelled. He sits down on the bench and straightens his fancy tie.

VOYNITSKY. H'm. Yes. [A pause] Yes.

ASTROV. Have you been asleep?

VOYNITSKY. Yes, very much so. [He yawns] Ever since the Professor and his wife have come, our daily life seems to have jumped the track. I sleep at the wrong time, drink wine, and eat all sorts of fancy cooking for luncheon and dinner. It isn't wholesome. Sonya and I used to work together and never had an idle moment, but now Sonya works alone and I only eat and drink and sleep. Something is wrong.

MARINA. [Shaking her head] This house is topsy-turvy! The Professor gets up at noon, the samovar is kept boiling all the morning, and everything has to wait for him. Before they came we used to have dinner at one o'clock, like everybody else, but now we have it at seven. The Professor sits up all night writing and reading, and suddenly, at two o'clock, there goes the bell! Heavens, what's that? The Professor wants some tea! Wake the servants, light the samovar! Lord, how topsy-turvy!

ASTROV. Will they be here much longer?

VOYNITSKY. [Whistles] A hundred years! The Professor has decided to make his home here.

MARINA. Look at this now! The samovar has