Selected plays

MME. VOYNITSKAYA. Jean, don't contradict Alexander. Trust to him; he knows better than we do what is right and what is wrong.

VOYNITSKY. I won't. Give me some water. [He drinks] Go ahead! Say anything you please -- anything!

SEREBRYAKOV. I can't imagine why you are so upset. I don't pretend that my scheme is an ideal one, and if you all object to it I shall not insist. [A pause.]

TELEGIN. [With embarrassment] I not only nourish feelings of respect toward learning, your Excellency, but I am also drawn to it by family ties. My brother Gregory's wife's brother, whom you may know; his name is Konstantin Lakedemonov, and he used to be a master of arts --

VOYNITSKY. Stop, Waffles. This is business; wait a bit, we will talk of that later. [To SEREBRYAKOV] There now, ask him what he thinks; this estate was bought from his uncle.

SEREBRYAKOV. Ah! Why should I ask questions? What good would it do?

VOYNITSKY. The price was ninety-five thousand roubles. My father paid seventy and left a debt of twenty-five. Now listen! This place could never have been bought had I not renounced my inheritance in favour of my sister, whom I deeply loved -- and what's more, I worked for ten years like an ox, and paid off the debt.

SEREBRYAKOV. I regret ever having started this conversation.

VOYNITSKY. Thanks entirely to my own personal efforts, the place is entirely clear of debts, and now, when I have grown old, you want to throw me out, neck and crop!

SEREBRYAKOV. I can't imagine what you are driving at.

VOYNITSKY. For twenty-five years I've managed this place, and have sent you the returns from it like the most honest of servants, and you've never given me one single word of thanks for my work, not one -- neither in my youth nor now. You allowed me a meagre salary of five hundred roubles a year, a beggar's pittance, and have never even thought of adding a rouble to it.

SEREBRYAKOV. What did I know about such things, Ivan? I am not a practical man and don't understand them. You might have helped yourself to all you wanted.

VOYNITSKY. Yes, why didn't I steal? Don't you all despise me for not stealing, when it would have been only justice? And I should not now have been a beggar!

MME. VOYNITSKAYA. [Sternly] Jean!

TELEGIN. [Agitated] Vanya, old man, don't talk in that way. Why spoil such pleasant relations? [He embraces him] Do stop!

VOYNITSKY. For twenty-five years I've been sitting here with my mother like a mole in a burrow. Our every thought and hope was yours and yours only. By day we talked with pride of you and your work, and spoke your name with veneration; our nights we wasted reading the books and papers which my soul now loathes.

TELEGIN. Don't, Vanya, don't. I can't stand it.

SEREBRYAKOV. [Wrathfully] What under heaven do you want, anyway? I don't understand!

VOYNITSKY. I used to think of you as a superior being and knew your articles by heart; but now the scales have fallen from my eyes and I see you as you are! You write on art without knowing anything about it. Those books of yours which I used to admire are not worth one copper kopeck. You've made fools of us all!

SEREBRYAKOV. Can't any one make him stop? I