Characters
STEPAN STEPANOVITCH TCHUBUKOV,
a landowner.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA,
his daughter, twenty-five years old.
IVAN VASSILYEVITCH LOMOV,
a neighbor of Tchubukov
The scene is at Tchubukov's country house.
LOMOV enters, wearing a dress-jacket and white gloves.
TCHUBUKOV rises to meet him.
TCHUBUKOV. My dear fellow, whom do I see! Ivan Vassilyevitch! I am extremely glad! (Shakes his hand) Now! this is a surprise, my young friend.... How are you?
LOMOV. Thank you. And how have you been doing?
TCHUBUKOV. We just get along somehow, my friend, thanks to your prayers, and so on. Sit down, please do.... Now, you know, you shouldn't be such a stranger. My dear fellow, why are you so formal in your get -up? Evening attire, gloves, and so on. Can you be going anywhere?
LOMOV. No, I've come only to see you, honored Stepan Stepanovitch.
TCHUBUKOV. Then why are you in evening dress? It’s as if you're paying a New Year's Eve visit!
LOMOV. Well, you see, it's like this. (Takes his arm) I've come to you, my honorable Stepan Stepanovitch, to trouble you with a request. Not once or twice have I already had the privilege of applying to you for help, and you have always, so to speak....um, I must ask your pardon, I am getting excited. I shall drink some water, my honorable Stepan Stepanovitch. (Drinks)
TCHUBUKOV. (Aside) He's come to borrow money! Shan't give him any! (Aloud) What is it, my good man?
LOMOV. Well, you see, Honor Stepanitch...um...I beg pardon,Stepar Honoritch.... I mean, I'm awfully nervous, as you will please notice. . . In short, you alone can help me, though I don't deserve it, of course... and haven't any right to count on your assistance . . . .
TCHUBUKOV. Oh, don't go round and round it guy! Spit it out! Well?
LOMOV. One moment . . . this very minute. The fact is, I've come to ask the hand of your daughter, Natalya Stepanovna, in marriage.
TCHUBUKOV. (Joyfully) By Jove! Ivan Vassilyevitch! Say it again – I’m not sure I heard right!
LOMOV. I have the honor to ask . . .
TCHUBUKOV. (Interrupting) My good man . . . I'm so glad, and so on.... Yes, indeed, and all that sort of thing. (Embraces and kisses LOMOV) I've been hoping for it for a long time. It's been my continual desire. (Sheds a tear.) And I've always loved you, young man, as if you were my own son. May God give you both His help and His love and so on, and I did so much hope.... What am I behaving in this idiotic way for? I'm off balance with joy, absolutely off my balance! Oh, with all my soul.... I'll go and call Natasha, and all that.
LOMOV. (Greatly moved) Honored Stepan Stepanovitch, do you think I may count on her consent?
TCHUBUKOV. Why, of course, my son, and . . . as if she won't consent! She's in love; egad, she's like a love-sick cat, and so on . . . I’ll be right back! (Exit)
LOMOV. It's cold . . . I'm trembling all over, just as if I'd go an examination before me. The great thing is, I must have my mind made up. If I give myself time to think, to hesitate, to talk a lot, to look for an ideal, or for re al love, then I'll never get married . . . Brrr! . . . I’ve got a chill! I’m freezing! Natalya Stepanovna is an excellent housekeeper, not bad-looking, well-educated.... What more do I want? But I'm getting a noise in my ears from excitement. (Drinks and mutters to himself) And I must get married now.... In the first place, I'm already 35--a critical age, so to speak. And secondly, I need to settle down and lead a quiet and regular life.... I suffer from heart palpitations, I'm excitable and always getting terribly stressed and bothered.... At this very moment my lips are trembling, and there's a twitch in my right eyelid.... But the very worst of all is the way I can’t sleep. I no sooner get into bed and begin to drop off when suddenly I have a shooting pain in my left side and a stabbing ache in my shoulder, and in my head--a migraine throbbing.... I jump out of bed like a madman, walk around a bit, and lie down again, but as soon as I begin to get off to sleep there's another pain! And this may happen twenty times or so!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA comes in.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Well, there! It's you, and papa said, "Go, there's a merchant come for his goods!" How do you do, Ivan Vassilyevitch!
LOMOV. How do you do, honored Natalya Stepanovna?
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. You must excuse my apron and house dress. . . we're shelling peas for drying. Why haven't you been here for such a long time? Sit down.... (They seat themselves) Won't you have some lunch?
LOMOV. No, thank you, I've already eaten.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Please enjoy a smoke then.... Here are some matches.... The weather is splendid now, but yesterday it was so wet that the workmen didn't do anything all day. How much hay have you stacked? Just think, I was eager and had a whole field mown, and now I'm not at all pleased about it because I'm afraid my hay may rot. I ought to have waited a bit. But what's this? Why, you're in evening dress! Well, I never! Are you going to a ball, or what?--though I must say you look better.... Tell me, why are you dressed up like this?
LOMOV. (Excitedly) You see, honored Natalya Stepanovna . . . the fact is, I've made up my mind to ask you to hear me out.... Of course you'll be surprised and perhaps even angry, but a . . . (Aside) It's awfully cold!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. What's the matter? (Pause) Well?
LOMOV. I shall try to be brief. You must know, honored Natalya Stepanovna, that I have long, since my earliest childhood, in fact, had the privilege of knowing your family. My late aunt and her husband, from whom, as you know, I inherited my land, always had the greatest respect for your
father and your late mother. The Lomovs and the Tchubukovs have always had the most
friendly, and I dare say, the most affectionate regard for each other. And, as you know, my land is next to yours. You will remember that my Ox Meadows touch your birch woods.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Excuse me for interrupting you, but you just said, "My Ox Meadows ...." Yet are they yours?
LOMOV. Yes, mine.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. What are you talking about? What nerve! The Ox Meadows are
ours, not yours!
LOMOV. No, mine, honored Natalya Stepanovna.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Well, that’s news to me! How do figure?
LOMOV. How? I'm speaking of those Ox Meadows which are wedged in between your birch woods and the Burnt Marsh.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Yes, yes.... They're ours.
LOMOV. No, you're mistaken, honored Natalya Stepanovna, they're mine.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Just think, Ivan Vassilyevitch ! Since when have they been yours?
LOMOV. Since when? As long as I can remember.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Really, there you must excuse me.
LOMOV. But you can see from the documents, honored Natalya Stepanovna. The Oxen Meadows, it's true, were once the subject of dispute, but now everybody knows that they are mine. Nowadays there's nothing to argue about. You see, my aunt's grandmother gave the free use of these Meadow for an indefinite period to the peasants of your father's grandfather, in return for which they were to make bricks for her. The peasants belonging to your father's grandfather had the use of the Ox Meadows rent free for forty years, and had fell into the habit of looking upon them as their own, when it happened that the settlement came about after the emancipation and . . .
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. No, it isn't at all like that! Both my grandfather and great-grandfather reckoned that their land extended to Burnt Marsh--which means that the Oxen Meadows were ours. I don't see what there is to argue about. It's simply ridiculous! What a bother!
LOMOV. I'll show you the documents, Natalya Stepanovna!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. No, you must be simply joking, or trying to make fun of me.... What a surprise! We've had the land for nearly three hundred years, and then we're suddenly told that it isn't ours! Forgive me, Ivan Vassilyevitch, but I can hardly believe my own ears.... These Meadows aren't worth much to me. They come to less than fifteen acres and are worth perhaps only 300 roubles, but I can't stand injustice. Say what you will, but I can't stand injustice.
LOMOV. Hear me out, I beg you! The peasants of your father's grandfather, as I have already had the honor of explaining to you, used to bake bricks for my aunt's grandmother. Now my aunt's grandmother, wishing to do something for them....
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. I can't make head or tail of all this about aunts and grandfathers and grandmothers. The Meadows are ours, and that's all there is to it.
LOMOV. Mine.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Ours! You can go on arguing it for two days on end, you can go and put on fifteen tuxedos, but I tell you they're ours, ours, ours! I don't want anything of yours but I don't want to give up anything of mine. So there!
LOMOV. Natalya Stepanovna, I don't want the Meadows, but I am acting on principle. If you like, I'll make you a present of them.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. I can make you a present of them myself, because they're mine. Your behavior, Ivan Vassilyevitch, is strange, to say the least! Up to this we have always thought of you as a good neighbor, a friend. Why, last year we lent you our threshing-machine, although on that account we had to put off our own threshing till November, but you behave to us as if we were gypsies. Giving me my own land, indeed! No, really, that's not at all neighborly! In my opinion, it's even impudent, if you want to know....
LOMOV. Then you make out that I'm an usurper? Madam, never in my life have I taken anybody else's land, and I shan't allow anybody to accuse me of having done so.... (Quickly steps to the decanter and drinks more water.) The Ox Meadows are mine!
NATALYA STEPANOYNA. It’s not true, they're ours!
LOMOV. They’re mine !
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. It's not true! I'll prove it! I'll send my mowers out to the Meadows this very day!
LOMOV. What?
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. My mowers will be there this very day!
LOMOV. I'll kick them out.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Don’t you dare!
LOMOV. (Clutches at his heart) The Ox Meadows are mine–do you understand? Mine!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Please don't shout! You can shout yourself hoarse in your own house, but here I must ask you to restrain yourself and lower your voice!
LOMOV. If it weren't, madam, for this awful, excruciating palpitation, if it weren’t for the throbbing in my temples, I'd speak to you differently! (Yells) The Ox Meadows are mine!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Ours!
LOMOV. Mine!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Ours!
LOMOV. Mine!
Enter TCHUBUKOV.
TCHUBUKOV. What's the matter? What are you two shouting about?
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Papa, please tell this gentleman who owns the Ox Meadows, he or we?
TCHUBUKOV. (To LOMOV) Darling, the Meadows are ours!
LOMOV. But, please, Stepan Stepanovitch, how can they be yours? Do be a reasonable man! My aunt's grandmother gave the Meadows for the temporary and free use of your grandfather's peasants. The peasants used the land for forty years and got as accustomed to it as if it was their own, when it happened that . .
TCHUBUKOV. Excuse me, my friend .... You forget just this, that the peasants didn't pay your grandmother and all that, because the Meadows were in dispute, and so forth. And now everybody knows that they're ours. It means that you haven't seen the map.
LOMOV. I'll prove to you that they're mine!
TCHUBUKOV. My young man, you won't prove anything of the sort.
LOMOV. I shall!
TCHUBUKOV. Dear fellow, why yell like that? You won't prove anything by just yelling. I don't want anything of yours, and don't intend to give up what I have. Why should I? And you know, my friend, that if you propose to go on arguing about it, I'd much sooner give up the Ox Meadows to the peasants than to you, that I would!
LOMOV. I don't understand! How have you the right to give away another person’s property?
TCHUBUKOV. You may take it that I know whether I have the right or not. Because, young man, I'm not used to being spoken to in that tone of voice, and so forth: I, young man, am twice your age, and ask you to speak to me without agitating yourself, and so forth.
LOMOV. No, you just think I'm a fool and want to push me around! You call my land yours, and then you want me to talk to you calmly and politely! Good neighbors don't behave like that, Stepan Stepanovitch! You're not a neighbor, you're an usurper!
TCHUBUKOV. What's that? What did you say?
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Papa, send the mowers out to the Meadows at once!
TCHUBUKOV. What did you say, sir?
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. The Ox Meadows are ours, and I shan’ t give them up, shan't give them up, shan't give them up!
LOMOV. We'll see! I'll have the matter taken to court, and then we'll see!
TCHUBUKOV. To court? You can take it to court, and so forth! You can! I know you; you're just on the lookout for a chance to go to court, and so forth.... You quibbler! All your people were fond of law suits like that! All of them!
LOMOV. I beg you not to insult my family! The Lomovs have all been honorable people, and not one has ever been tried for embezzlement--like your grandfather!
TCHUBUKOV. You Lomovs have had lunacy in your family, all of you!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Every one of them! Every one!
TCHUBUKOV. Your grandfather was a drunkard, and your younger aunt, Nastasya Mihailovna, ran away with an architect, and so forth....
LOMOV. And your mother was a hunchback! (Clutches at his heart) Ouch! Something pulling in my side.... My head.... Help! Water!
TCHUBUKOV. Your father was a glutton and a gambler!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. And there haven’t been many backbiting gossips to equal your aunt!
LOMOV. My left foot has gone to sleep.... You're an intriguer. . . . Oh, my heart! . . . And it's an open secret that before the last elections you ... I can see stars.... Where's my hat?
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. It's low! It's dishonest! It's disgusting!
TCHUBUKOV. And you're just a malicious, double-faced viper! Yes!
LOMOV. Here's my hat.... My heart! ... Which way? Where's the door? Oh! ... I think I'm dying.... My foot's gone asleep–I can hardly walk... (Goes to the door)
TCHUBUKOV. (Following him) And don't set foot in my house again!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Take it to court! We shall see!
LOMOV staggers out.
TCHUBUKOV. Devil take him! (To table for drink and then walks about in excitement)
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. What a rascal! What trust can one have in one's neighbors after that!
TCHUBUKOV. The villain! The scarecrow!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. The nerve! First he takes our land and then he has the impudence to abuse us.
TCHUBUKOV. (Stuttering) And that nitwit, – yes, that noodle-- has the confounded gall – to make a proposal, – and so forth! (Heads toward the door)
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. What proposal?
TCHUBUKOV. Why, he came here so as to propose to you.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. (Softening) To propose? To me? Why didn't you tell me so before?
TCHUBUKOV. So he dresses up in evening clothes. The stuffed sausage! The shrimp!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. To propose to me? Ah! (Falls into an easy chair and wails) Bring him back! Back! Ah ! Bring him back!
TCHUBUKOV. Bring whom back?
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Quick, quick! I'm faint! Bring him back! (Hysterics )
TCHUBUKOV. What's that? What's the matter with you? (Clutches at his head, aside) Oh, unhappy man that I am! I'll shoot myself! I'll hang myself! She’ll be the death of me!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. I'm dying! Bring him back!
TCHUBUKOV. Ugh!! At once. Don't howl!
TCHUBUKOV runs out. A pause. NATALYA STEPANOVNA wails.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. What have they done to me! Bring him back! Bring him back.
A pause. TCHUBUKOV runs in.
TCHUBUKOV. He's coming, and so forth. May the devil take him! Oh! Talk to him yourself; I don't want to.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. (Wails) Bring him back!
TCHUBUKOV. (Yells) He's coming, I tell you. –(Aside) Oh, what a burden, Lord, to be the father of a grown-up daughter! I'll cut my throat! I will, indeed! --(To her) We cursed the man, abused him, drove him out, and it's all your doing . . . all your fault!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. No, it was yours!
TCHUBUKOV. Oh, no! I tell you it's not my fault. (LOMOV appears at the door) Now you talk to him yourself. (TCHUBUKOV exits.)
LOMOV enters, exhausted.
LOMOV. My heart's palpitating awfully.... My foot's gone to sleep.... There's a cramp in my side....
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Forgive us, Ivan Vassilyevitch, we were too hasty.... I remember now: The Oxen Meadows really are yours.
LOMOV. My heart's beating awfully.... My Meadows.... My eyelids are both twitching....
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. The Meadows are yours, yes, yours.... Do sit down.... (They sit) We were wrong.
LOMOV. I acted on principle.... My land is worth little to me, but the principle . . .
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Yes, the principle, just so.... Now let's talk of something else.
LOMOV. Especially as I have proof. My aunt's grandmother gave the land to your father's grandfather's peasants . . .
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Yes, yes, let that pass.... (Aside) I wish I knew how to get him started.... (Aloud) Are you going to start hunting soon?
LOMOV. I'm thinking of having a go grouse hunting, honored Natalya Stepanovna, after the harvest. Oh, have you heard? Just think, what a misfortune I've had! My dog Tracker, whom you know, has gone lame.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. What a pity! How is this so?
LOMOV. I don't know.... Must have put his paw out of joint, or perhaps he was bitten by some other dog.... (Sighs) My very best dog, to say nothing of the expense. I gave Mironov 125 roubles for him.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. It was too much, Ivan Vassilyevitch.
LOMOV. Well, to my mind, I think it was very cheap. He's a superb dog.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Papa gave 85 roubles for his Backer, and Backer is a much better dog than Tracker!
LOMOV. Backer better than Tracker? What an idea! (Laughs) Backer better than Tracker!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Of course he’s better! Of course, Backer is young, and has mature, but on points and pedigree he's better than anything that even Volchanetsky has.
LOMOV. Excuse me, Natalya Stepanovna, but you forget that he has a pug-jaw with an overbite, and a pug-jaw always means the dog is a bad gripper.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Pug-jaw, is he? The first time I heard it!
LOMOV. I assure you that his lower jaw is shorter than the upper.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Have you measured?
LOMOV. Yes. He's all right at following, of course, but if you want him to get hold of anything . . .
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. In the first place, Backer is a thorough-bred animal, the son of Harness and Chisels, while there's no getting at the pedigree of your spotty piebald dog, at all.... He's old and as ugly as a broken down cart-horse.
LOMOV. He is old, but I wouldn't take five Backers for him.... Why, how can you? Tracker is a dog; as for Backer, well, it's too funny to argue.... Any hunter has packs of dogs as good as Backer ... you may find them everywhere you look! Twenty-five roubles would be a handsome price to pay for him.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. There's some demon of contradiction in you today, Ivan Vassilyevitch. First, you pretend that the Ox Meadows are yours; now, you say that Tracker is better than Backer. I don't like people who don't say what they mean, because you know perfectly well that Backer is a hundred times better than your silly Tracker. Why do you want to say the opposite?
LOMOV. I see, Natalya Stepanovna, that you consider me either blind or a fool. You must realize that Backer has an overbite!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. It's not so!
LOMOV. It is so!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. It is not!
LOMOV. Why are you shouting, madam?
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Why are you talking nonsense? It's revolting! It’s time your Tracker was shot–and you compare him with Backer!
LOMOV. Excuse me, I cannot continue this discussion, my heart is palpitating.
NATALYA STEPANOYNA. I've noticed that those men who argue the most about hunting are those who know least about it.
LOMOV. Madam, please be silent.... My heart is bursting. . . . (Shouts) Be silent!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. I shan’t be silent until you acknowledge that Backer is a hundred times better than your Tracker!
LOMOV. A hundred times worse! A plague on your Backer! Oh! My head! . . . my eyes! . . . my shoulder! . . .
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. There's no need for a plague to get rid of your foolish Tracker–he's as good as dead already!
LOMOV. (Weeping) Silence! My heart's bursting!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. I shan't be silent.
Enter TCHUBUKOV.
TCHUBUKOV. What now?
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Papa, tell us truly, which is the better dog, our Backer or his Tracker.
LOMOV. Stepan Stepanovitch, I implore you to tell me just one thing; does your Backer have a pug-jaw or not? Yes or no?
TCHUBUKOV. And suppose he does? What does it matter? He's the best dog in the district for all that, and so forth.
LOMOV. But isn't my Tracker better? Honestly?
TCHUBUKOV. Don't excite yourself, my good man.... Allow me.... Your Tracker certainly has his good points.... He's pure-bred, firm on his feet, has well-sprung ribs, and all that. But my dear man, if you want to know the truth, that dog has two defects: he's old and he's short in the muzzle.
LOMOV. Excuse me, my heart is pounding!.... Let's take the facts.... You will remember that on the Marusinsky hunt my Tracker ran neck-and-neck with the Count's dog, while your Backer was left a half-a-mile behind.
TCHUBUKOV. He was left behind because he was hit when the Count's huntsman cracked his whip.
LOMOV. And with good reason. The dogs are running after a fox, when Backer goes and starts attacking a sheep!
TCHUBUKOV. It's not true! . . . My dear fellow, I'm very liable to lose my temper, and so, just because of that. Let's stop arguing. He lashed him because everyone is envious of another’s dog...Yes, everyone is jealous!. You too, sir, aren't blameless when it comes to envy! You no sooner notice that some dog is better than your Tracker than you begin with this, that . . . and the other . . . and all that. . . . I remember!
LOMOV. I remember too!
TCHUBUKOV. (Mocking him) I remember, too.... What do you remember?
LOMOV. My heart ... my foot's gone to sleep.... I can't ...
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. (Mocking him) My heart.... Some sportsman you are! You ought to go and lie on the kitchen oven and squash black beetles, not go after foxes! My heart!
TCHUBUKOV. Yes, really, some sportsman, anyway. You ought to sit at home with your palpitations instead of jolting in the saddle. What good is your going hunting; you’d only end up arguing with people and interfering with their dogs and so forth. Let's change the subject before I lose my temper. You are not a sportsman at all!
LOMOV. And you--are you a sportsman? You only go hunting to get to scheme and seek the Count’s favor. . . . Oh, my
heart ! . . . You're a schemer!
TCHUBUKOV. What? I, a schemer? (Shouts) Hold your tongue!
LOMOV. Schemer!
TCHUBUKOV. Wimp! Cry baby!
LOMOV. Foolish old man!
TCHUBUKOV. Hold your tongue or I'll shoot you like a partridge! You noodle!
LOMOV. Everybody knows that--oh my heart!--your late wife used to beat you.... My feet go numb ... pain in my temples ... spots before my eyes. ... I cannot stand!
TCHUBUKOV. And you walk on eggshells around your cleaning lady!
LOMOV. There, there, there . . . my heart's burst! I have no feeling in my shoulder!.... Where is my shoulder? ... I die . (Falls into an armchair) A doctor! (Faints)
TCHUBUKOV. Wimp! Baby! Nitwit! I'm feeling nauseous (Drinks water) I’m not well!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. What sort of a hunter are you? You can't even sit on a horse! (To her father) Papa, what's the matter with him? Papa! Look, papa! (She screams) Ivan Vassilyevitch! He's dead!
TCHUBUKOV. I’ve got heartburn . . . I can't breathe! Give me air!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. He’s dead. (Pulls LOMOV'S sleeve) Ivan Vassilyevitch! Ivan Vassilyevitch! What have you done to me? He's dead. (Falls into an armchair) A doctor, a doctor! (Hysterics)
TCHUBUKOV. Oh! . . . What is it? What's the matter?
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. (Wailing) He's dead . . . dead!
TCHUBUKOV. Who's dead? (Looks at LOMOV) So he is! My word! Water! A doctor! (Lifts a tumbler to LOMOV'S mouth) Drink this! . . . No, he doesn't drink.... It means he's dead, and all that.... I'm the most unhappy of men! Why don't I put a bullet into my brain? Why haven't I cut my throat yet? What am I waiting for? Give me a knife! Give me a pistol! (LOMOV moves) He seems to be coming round.... Drink some water! That's right. . . .
LOMOV. Stars ... dizziness.... Where am I ?
TCHUBUKOV. Hurry up and get married and--what the heck. She's willing! (He puts LOMOV's hand into his daughter's) She's willing and so on. I give you my blessing and so on. Only leave me in peace!
LOMOV. (Getting up) Eh? What? To whom?
TCHUBUKOV. She's willing! Well? Kiss each other and get on with it.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. (Wailing) He's alive.... Yes, yes, I'm willing. . .
TCHUBUKOV. Kiss!
LOMOV. Eh? Kiss whom? (They kiss) Very nice, too. Excuse me, what's it all about? Oh, now I understand . . . my heart . . . stars ... I'm happy. Natalya Stepanovna.... (Kisses her hand) My leg’s asleep!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. I ... I too am happy.
TCHUBUKOV. What a weight off my shoulders . . . Ouf!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. But . . . still you will admit now that Tracker is not as good as Backer.
LOMOV. Better!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Worse!
TCHUBUKOV. Well, that's, a way to marital bliss ! Have some champagne!
LOMOV. Tracker’s better!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Worse! worse! worse!
TCHUBUKOV. (Trying to shout her down) Champagne! Champagne!
CURTAIN
Rendered in English by Charles Youngs, 2004
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