The Collected Works of Anton Chekhov: Plays, Novellas, Short Stories, Diary & Letters. Anton Chekhov
We’re freezing, and you open the door! [Gets up and slams it] Who are you to be giving orders? [Lies down]
TIHON. Excuse me, your highness, but we’ve a little fool here… a bit cracked…. But don’t you be frightened, he won’t do you any harm…. Only you must excuse me, madam, I can’t do this for ten roubles…. Make it fifteen.
MARIA EGOROVNA. Very well, only be quick.
TIHON. This minute… this very instant. [Drags some string out from under the counter] This minute. [A pause.]
BORTSOV. [Looking at MARIA EGOROVNA] Marie… Masha…
MARIA EGOROVNA. [Looks at BORTSOV] What’s this?
BORTSOV. Marie… is it you? Where do you come from? [MARIA EGOROVNA recognizes BORTSOV, screams and runs off into the centre of the floor. BORTSOV follows] Marie, it is I… I [Laughs loudly] My wife! Marie! Where am I? People, a light!
MARIA EGOROVNA. Get away from me! You lie, it isn’t you! It can’t be! [Covers her face with her hands] It’s a lie, it’s all nonsense!
BORTSOV. Her voice, her movements…. Marie, it is I! I’ll stop in a moment…. I was drunk…. My head’s going round…. My God! Stop, stop…. I can’t understand anything. [Yells] My wife! [Falls at her feet and sobs. A group collects around the husband and wife.]
MARIA EGOROVNA. Stand back! [To the COACHMAN] Denis, let’s go! I can’t stop here any longer!
MERIK. [Jumps up and looks her steadily in the face] The portrait! [Grasps her hand] It is she! Eh, people, she’s the gentleman’s wife!
MARIA EGOROVNA. Get away, fellow! [Tries to tear her hand away from him] Denis, why do you stand there staring? [DENIS and TIHON run up to her and get hold of MERIK’S arms] This thieves’ kitchen! Let go my hand! I’m not afraid!… Get away from me!
MERIK. [Note: Throughout this speech, in the original, Merik uses the familiar second person singular.] Wait a bit, and I’ll let go…. Just let me say one word to you…. One word, so that you may understand…. Just wait…. [Turns to TIHON and DENIS] Get away, you rogues, let go! I shan’t let you go till I’ve had my say! Stop… one moment. [Strikes his forehead with his fist] No, God hasn’t given me the wisdom! I can’t think of the word for you!
MARIA EGOROVNA. [Tears away her hand] Get away! Drunkards… let’s go, Denis!
[She tries to go out, but MERIK blocks the door.]
MERIK. Just throw a glance at him, with only one eye if you like! Or say only just one kind little word to him! God’s own sake!
MARIA EGOROVNA. Take away this… fool.
MERIK. Then the devil take you, you accursed woman!
[He swings his axe. General confusion. Everybody jumps up noisily and with cries of horror. SAVVA stands between MERIK and MARIA EGOROVNA…. DENIS forces MERIK to one side and carries out his mistress. After this all stand as if turned to stone. A prolonged pause. BORTSOV suddenly waves his hands in the air.]
BORTSOV. Marie… where are you, Marie!
NAZAROVNA. My God, my God! You’ve torn up my your murderers! What an accursed night!
MERIK. [Lowering his hand; he still holds the axe] Did I kill her or no?
HIGH ROAD
TIHON. Thank God, your head is safe….
MERIK. Then I didn’t kill her…. [Totters to his bed] Fate hasn’t sent me to my death because of a stolen axe…. [Falls down and sobs] Woe! Woe is me! Have pity on me, Orthodox people!
Curtain.
SWAN SONG, A Play in One Act
A PLAY IN ONE ACT
CHARACTERS
VASILI SVIETLOVIDOFF, a comedian, 68 years old
NIKITA IVANITCH, a prompter, an old man
The scene is laid on the stage of a country theatre, at night, after the play. To the right a row of rough, unpainted doors leading into the dressing-rooms. To the left and in the background the stage is encumbered with all sorts of rubbish. In the middle of the stage is an overturned stool.
SVIETLOVIDOFF. [With a candle in his hand, comes out of a dressing-room and laughs] Well, well, this is funny! Here’s a good joke! I fell asleep in my dressing-room when the play was over, and there I was calmly snoring after everybody else had left the theatre. Ah! I’m a foolish old man, a poor old dodderer! I have been drinking again, and so I fell asleep in there, sitting up. That was clever! Good for you, old boy! [Calls] Yegorka! Petrushka! Where the devil are you? Petrushka! The scoundrels must be asleep, and an earthquake wouldn’t wake them now! Yegorka! [Picks up the stool, sits down, and puts the candle on the floor] Not a sound! Only echos answer me. I gave Yegorka and Petrushka each a tip to-day, and now they have disappeared without leaving a trace behind them. The rascals have gone off and have probably locked up the theatre. [Turns his head about] I’m drunk! Ugh! The play tonight was for my benefit, and it is disgusting to think how much beer and wine I have poured down my throat in honour of the occasion. Gracious! My body is burning all over, and I feel as if I had twenty tongues in my mouth. It is horrid! Idiotic! This poor old sinner is drunk again, and doesn’t even know what he has been celebrating! Ugh! My head is splitting, I am shivering all over, and I feel as dark and cold inside as a cellar! Even if I don’t mind ruining my health, I ought at least to remember my age, old idiot that I am! Yes, my old age! It’s no use! I can play the fool, and brag, and pretend to be young, but my life is really over now, I kiss my hand to the sixty-eight years that have gone by; I’ll never see them again! I have drained the bottle, only a few little drops are left at the bottom, nothing but the dregs. Yes, yes, that’s the case, Vasili, old boy. The time has come for you to rehearse the part of a mummy, whether you like it or not. Death is on its way to you. [Stares ahead of him] It is strange, though, that I have been on the stage now for forty-five years, and this is the first time I have seen a theatre at night, after the lights have been put out. The first time. [Walks up to the footlights] How dark it is! I can’t see a thing. Oh, yes, I can just make out the prompter’s box, and his desk; the rest is in pitch darkness, a black, bottomless pit, like a grave, in which death itself might be hiding…. Brr…. How cold it is! The wind blows out of the empty theatre as though out of a stone flue. What a place for ghosts! The shivers are running up and down my back. [Calls] Yegorka! Petrushka! Where are you both? What on earth makes me think of such gruesome things here? I must give up drinking; I’m an old man, I shan’t live much longer. At sixty-eight people go to church and prepare for death, but here I am — heavens! A profane old drunkard in this fool’s dress — I’m simply not fit to look at. I must go and change it at once…. This is a dreadful place, I should die of fright sitting here all night. [Goes toward his dressing-room; at the same time NIKITA IVANITCH in a long white coat comes out of the dressing-room at the farthest end of the stage. SVIETLOVIDOFF sees IVANITCH — shrieks with terror and steps back] Who are you? What? What do you want? [Stamps his foot] Who are you?
IVANITCH. It is I, sir.
SVIETLOVIDOFF. Who are you?
IVANITCH. [Comes slowly toward him] It is I, sir, the prompter, Nikita Ivanitch. It is I, master, it is I!
SVIETLOVIDOFF. [Sinks helplessly onto the stool, breathes heavily and trembles violently] Heavens! Who are you? It is you … you Nikitushka? What … what are you doing here?
IVANITCH. I spend my nights here in the dressing-rooms. Only please be good enough not to tell Alexi Fomitch, sir. I have nowhere else to spend the night; indeed, I haven’t.
SVIETLOVIDOFF. Ah! It is you, Nikitushka, is it? Just think, the audience called