the geese have cackled they will be still again. First they cackle and then they stop.
SONYA. Nanny!
MARINA. [Strokes her hair] You're trembling all over, as if you were freezing. There, there, little motherless child, God is merciful. A little lime-flower tea, and it'll all pass away. Don't cry, my sweetest. [Looking angrily at the door in the centre of the room] See, the geese have all gone now. The devil take them!
A shot is heard. HELENA screams behind the scenes. SONYA shudders.
MARINA. Oh, a curse on you!
SEREBRYAKOV. [Comes in reeling with terror] Stop him! stop him! He's gone mad!
HELENA and VOYNITSKY are seen struggling in the doorway.
HELENA. [Trying to wrest the revolver from him] Give it to me; give it to me, I tell you!
VOYNITSKY. Let me go, Helena, let me go! [He frees himself and rushes in, looking everywhere for SEREBRYAKOV] Where is he? Ah, there he is! [He shoots at him. A pause] I didn't get him? I missed again? [Furiously] Damnation! Damnation! To hell with him!
He flings the revolver on the floor, and drops helpless into a chair. SEREBRYAKOV stands as if stupefied. HELENA leans against the wall, almost fainting.
HELENA. Take me away! Take me away! I can't stay here -- I don't care if you kill me, but I can't stay here --
VOYNITSKY. [In despair] Oh, what am I doing? What am I doing?
SONYA. [Softly] Oh, Nanny, Nanny!
The curtain falls.
ACT IV
VOYNITSKY'S bedroom, which is also his office. A table stands near the window; on it are ledgers, letter scales, and papers of every description. Near by stands a smaller table belonging to ASTROV, with his paints and drawing materials alongside them a portfolio. On the wall hangs a cage containing a starling. There is also a map of Africa on the wall, obviously of no use to anybody. There is a large sofa covered with oilcloth. A door to the left leads into an inner room; one to the right leads into the front hall, and before this door lies a mat for the peasants with their muddy boots to stand on. It is an autumn evening. The silence is profound. TELEGIN and MARINA are sitting facing one another, winding wool.
TELEGIN. Be quick, Marina, or we shall be called away to say good-bye before you have finished. The carriage has already been ordered.
MARINA. [Trying to wind more quickly] There's only a little left.
TELEGIN. They are going to Kharkov to live.
MARINA. They do well to go.
TELEGIN. They have been frightened. The professor's wife won't stay here an hour longer. 'If we are going at all, let's be off,' says she, 'we shall go to Kharkov and look about us, and then we can send for our things.' They are travelling light. It seems, Marina, that fate has decreed for them not to live here.
MARINA. And quite rightly. What a storm they've raised this afternoon -- and all that shooting! It was shameful!
TELEGIN. It was indeed. The scene was worthy
