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diff --git a/1754-h/1754-h.htm b/1754-h/1754-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..936e320 --- /dev/null +++ b/1754-h/1754-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3782 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Sea-gull, by Anton Checkov + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { margin-top: .75em; margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Sea-Gull, by Anton Checkov + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Sea-Gull + +Author: Anton Checkov + +Release Date: February 21, 2006 [EBook #1754] +Last Updated: September 10, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SEA-GULL *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE SEA-GULL + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + by Anton Checkov + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + A Play In Four Acts + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <h4> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> CHARACTERS </a><br /> <br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0002"> THE SEA-GULL </a> + </h4> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> ACT I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> ACT II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> ACT III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> ACT IV </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + CHARACTERS + </h2> + <blockquote> + <p> + IRINA ABKADINA, an actress + </p> + <p> + CONSTANTINE TREPLIEFF, her son + </p> + <p> + PETER SORIN, her brother + </p> + <p> + NINA ZARIETCHNAYA, a young girl, the daughter of a rich landowner + </p> + <p> + ILIA SHAMRAEFF, the manager of SORIN’S estate + </p> + <p> + PAULINA, his wife + </p> + <p> + MASHA, their daughter + </p> + <p> + BORIS TRIGORIN, an author + </p> + <p> + EUGENE DORN, a doctor + </p> + <p> + SIMON MEDVIEDENKO, a schoolmaster + </p> + <p> + JACOB, a workman + </p> + <p> + A COOK + </p> + <p> + A MAIDSERVANT + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <i>The scene is laid on SORIN’S estate. Two years elapse + between the third and fourth acts</i>. <a name="link2H_4_0002" + id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE SEA-GULL + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ACT I + </h2> + <p> + <i>The scene is laid in the park on SORIN’S estate. A broad avenue of + trees leads away from the audience toward a lake which lies lost in the + depths of the park. The avenue is obstructed by a rough stage, temporarily + erected for the performance of amateur theatricals, and which screens the + lake from view. There is a dense growth of bushes to the left and right of + the stage. A few chairs and a little table are placed in front of the + stage. The sun has just set. JACOB and some other workmen are heard + hammering and coughing on the stage behind the lowered curtain</i>. + </p> + <div style="margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%;"> + <p> + MASHA and MEDVIEDENKO come in from the left, returning from a walk. + </p> + <p> + MEDVIEDENKO. Why do you always wear mourning? + </p> + <p> + MASHA. I dress in black to match my life. I am unhappy. + </p> + <p> + MEDVIEDENKO. Why should you be unhappy? [Thinking it over] I don’t + understand it. You are healthy, and though your father is not rich, he + has a good competency. My life is far harder than yours. I only have + twenty-three roubles a month to live on, but I don’t wear mourning. + [They sit down]. + </p> + <p> + MASHA. Happiness does not depend on riches; poor men are often happy. + </p> + <p> + MEDVIEDENKO. In theory, yes, but not in reality. Take my case, for + instance; my mother, my two sisters, my little brother and I must all + live somehow on my salary of twenty-three roubles a month. We have to + eat and drink, I take it. You wouldn’t have us go without tea and sugar, + would you? Or tobacco? Answer me that, if you can. + </p> + <p> + MASHA. [Looking in the direction of the stage] The play will soon begin. + </p> + <p> + MEDVIEDENKO. Yes, Nina Zarietchnaya is going to act in Treplieff’s play. + They love one another, and their two souls will unite to-night in the + effort to interpret the same idea by different means. There is no ground + on which your soul and mine can meet. I love you. Too restless and sad + to stay at home, I tramp here every day, six miles and back, to be met + only by your indifference. I am poor, my family is large, you can have + no inducement to marry a man who cannot even find sufficient food for + his own mouth. + </p> + <p> + MASHA. It is not that. [She takes snuff] I am touched by your affection, + but I cannot return it, that is all. [She offers him the snuff-box] Will + you take some? + </p> + <p> + MEDVIEDENKO. No, thank you. [A pause.] + </p> + <p> + MASHA. The air is sultry; a storm is brewing for to-night. You do + nothing but moralise or else talk about money. To you, poverty is the + greatest misfortune that can befall a man, but I think it is a thousand + times easier to go begging in rags than to—You wouldn’t understand + that, though. + </p> + <p> + SORIN leaning on a cane, and TREPLIEFF come in. + </p> + <p> + SORIN. For some reason, my boy, country life doesn’t suit me, and I am + sure I shall never get used to it. Last night I went to bed at ten and + woke at nine this morning, feeling as if, from oversleep, my brain had + stuck to my skull. [Laughing] And yet I accidentally dropped off to + sleep again after dinner, and feel utterly done up at this moment. It is + like a nightmare. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. There is no doubt that you should live in town. [He catches + sight of MASHA and MEDVIEDENKO] You shall be called when the play + begins, my friends, but you must not stay here now. Go away, please. + </p> + <p> + SORIN. Miss Masha, will you kindly ask your father to leave the dog + unchained? It howled so last night that my sister was unable to sleep. + </p> + <p> + MASHA. You must speak to my father yourself. Please excuse me; I can’t + do so. [To MEDVIEDENKO] Come, let us go. + </p> + <p> + MEDVIEDENKO. You will let us know when the play begins? + </p> + <p> + MASHA and MEDVIEDENKO go out. + </p> + <p> + SORIN. I foresee that that dog is going to howl all night again. It is + always this way in the country; I have never been able to live as I like + here. I come down for a month’s holiday, to rest and all, and am plagued + so by their nonsense that I long to escape after the first day. + [Laughing] I have always been glad to get away from this place, but I + have been retired now, and this was the only place I had to come to. + Willy-nilly, one must live somewhere. + </p> + <p> + JACOB. [To TREPLIEFF] We are going to take a swim, Mr. Constantine. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. Very well, but you must be back in ten minutes. + </p> + <p> + JACOB. We will, sir. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. [Looking at the stage] Just like a real theatre! See, there + we have the curtain, the foreground, the background, and all. No + artificial scenery is needed. The eye travels direct to the lake, and + rests on the horizon. The curtain will be raised as the moon rises at + half-past eight. + </p> + <p> + SORIN. Splendid! + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. Of course the whole effect will be ruined if Nina is late. + She should be here by now, but her father and stepmother watch her so + closely that it is like stealing her from a prison to get her away from + home. [He straightens SORIN’S collar] Your hair and beard are all on + end. Oughtn’t you to have them trimmed? + </p> + <p> + SORIN. [Smoothing his beard] They are the tragedy of my existence. Even + when I was young I always looked as if I were drunk, and all. Women have + never liked me. [Sitting down] Why is my sister out of temper? + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. Why? Because she is jealous and bored. [Sitting down beside + SORIN] She is not acting this evening, but Nina is, and so she has set + herself against me, and against the performance of the play, and against + the play itself, which she hates without ever having read it. + </p> + <p> + SORIN. [Laughing] Does she, really? + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. Yes, she is furious because Nina is going to have a success + on this little stage. [Looking at his watch] My mother is a + psychological curiosity. Without doubt brilliant and talented, capable + of sobbing over a novel, of reciting all Nekrasoff’s poetry by heart, + and of nursing the sick like an angel of heaven, you should see what + happens if any one begins praising Duse to her! She alone must be + praised and written about, raved over, her marvellous acting in “La Dame + aux Camelias” extolled to the skies. As she cannot get all that rubbish + in the country, she grows peevish and cross, and thinks we are all + against her, and to blame for it all. She is superstitious, too. She + dreads burning three candles, and fears the thirteenth day of the month. + Then she is stingy. I know for a fact that she has seventy thousand + roubles in a bank at Odessa, but she is ready to burst into tears if you + ask her to lend you a penny. + </p> + <p> + SORIN. You have taken it into your head that your mother dislikes your + play, and the thought of it has excited you, and all. Keep calm; your + mother adores you. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. [Pulling a flower to pieces] She loves me, loves me not; + loves—loves me not; loves—loves me not! [Laughing] You see, + she doesn’t love me, and why should she? She likes life and love and gay + clothes, and I am already twenty-five years old; a sufficient reminder + to her that she is no longer young. When I am away she is only + thirty-two, in my presence she is forty-three, and she hates me for it. + She knows, too, that I despise the modern stage. She adores it, and + imagines that she is working on it for the benefit of humanity and her + sacred art, but to me the theatre is merely the vehicle of convention + and prejudice. When the curtain rises on that little three-walled room, + when those mighty geniuses, those high-priests of art, show us people in + the act of eating, drinking, loving, walking, and wearing their coats, + and attempt to extract a moral from their insipid talk; when playwrights + give us under a thousand different guises the same, same, same old + stuff, then I must needs run from it, as Maupassant ran from the Eiffel + Tower that was about to crush him by its vulgarity. + </p> + <p> + SORIN. But we can’t do without a theatre. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. No, but we must have it under a new form. If we can’t do + that, let us rather not have it at all. [Looking at his watch] I love my + mother, I love her devotedly, but I think she leads a stupid life. She + always has this man of letters of hers on her mind, and the newspapers + are always frightening her to death, and I am tired of it. Plain, human + egoism sometimes speaks in my heart, and I regret that my mother is a + famous actress. If she were an ordinary woman I think I should be a + happier man. What could be more intolerable and foolish than my + position, Uncle, when I find myself the only nonentity among a crowd of + her guests, all celebrated authors and artists? I feel that they only + endure me because I am her son. Personally I am nothing, nobody. I + pulled through my third year at college by the skin of my teeth, as they + say. I have neither money nor brains, and on my passport you may read + that I am simply a citizen of Kiev. So was my father, but he was a + well-known actor. When the celebrities that frequent my mother’s + drawing-room deign to notice me at all, I know they only look at me to + measure my insignificance; I read their thoughts, and suffer from + humiliation. + </p> + <p> + SORIN. Tell me, by the way, what is Trigorin like? I can’t understand + him, he is always so silent. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. Trigorin is clever, simple, well-mannered, and a little, I + might say, melancholic in disposition. Though still under forty, he is + surfeited with praise. As for his stories, they are—how shall I + put it?—pleasing, full of talent, but if you have read Tolstoi or + Zola you somehow don’t enjoy Trigorin. + </p> + <p> + SORIN. Do you know, my boy, I like literary men. I once passionately + desired two things: to marry, and to become an author. I have succeeded + in neither. It must be pleasant to be even an insignificant author. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. [Listening] I hear footsteps! [He embraces his uncle] I + cannot live without her; even the sound of her footsteps is music to me. + I am madly happy. [He goes quickly to meet NINA, who comes in at that + moment] My enchantress! My girl of dreams! + </p> + <p> + NINA. [Excitedly] It can’t be that I am late? No, I am not late. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. [Kissing her hands] No, no, no! + </p> + <p> + NINA. I have been in a fever all day, I was so afraid my father would + prevent my coming, but he and my stepmother have just gone driving. The + sky is clear, the moon is rising. How I hurried to get here! How I urged + my horse to go faster and faster! [Laughing] I am <i>so</i> glad to see + you! [She shakes hands with SORIN.] + </p> + <p> + SORIN. Oho! Your eyes look as if you had been crying. You mustn’t do + that. + </p> + <p> + NINA. It is nothing, nothing. Do let us hurry. I must go in half an + hour. No, no, for heaven’s sake do not urge me to stay. My father + doesn’t know I am here. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. As a matter of fact, it is time to begin now. I must call the + audience. + </p> + <p> + SORIN. Let me call them—and all—I am going this minute. [He + goes toward the right, begins to sing “The Two Grenadiers,” then stops.] + I was singing that once when a fellow-lawyer said to me: “You have a + powerful voice, sir.” Then he thought a moment and added, “But it is a + disagreeable one!” [He goes out laughing.] + </p> + <p> + NINA. My father and his wife never will let me come here; they call this + place Bohemia and are afraid I shall become an actress. But this lake + attracts me as it does the gulls. My heart is full of you. [She glances + about her.] + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. We are alone. + </p> + <p> + NINA. Isn’t that some one over there? + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. No. [They kiss one another.] + </p> + <p> + NINA. What is that tree? + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. An elm. + </p> + <p> + NINA. Why does it look so dark? + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. It is evening; everything looks dark now. Don’t go away + early, I implore you. + </p> + <p> + NINA. I must. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. What if I were to follow you, Nina? I shall stand in your + garden all night with my eyes on your window. + </p> + <p> + NINA. That would be impossible; the watchman would see you, and Treasure + is not used to you yet, and would bark. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. I love you. + </p> + <p> + NINA. Hush! + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. [Listening to approaching footsteps] Who is that? Is it you, + Jacob? + </p> + <p> + JACOB. [On the stage] Yes, sir. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. To your places then. The moon is rising; the play must + commence. + </p> + <p> + NINA. Yes, sir. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. Is the alcohol ready? Is the sulphur ready? There must be + fumes of sulphur in the air when the red eyes shine out. [To NINA] Go, + now, everything is ready. Are you nervous? + </p> + <p> + NINA. Yes, very. I am not so much afraid of your mother as I am of + Trigorin. I am terrified and ashamed to act before him; he is so famous. + Is he young? + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. Yes. + </p> + <p> + NINA. What beautiful stories he writes! + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. [Coldly] I have never read any of them, so I can’t say. + </p> + <p> + NINA. Your play is very hard to act; there are no living characters in + it. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. Living characters! Life must be represented not as it is, but + as it ought to be; as it appears in dreams. + </p> + <p> + NINA. There is so little action; it seems more like a recitation. I + think love should always come into every play. + </p> + <p> + NINA and TREPLIEFF go up onto the little stage; PAULINA and DORN come + in. + </p> + <p> + PAULINA. It is getting damp. Go back and put on your goloshes. + </p> + <p> + DORN. I am quite warm. + </p> + <p> + PAULINA. You never will take care of yourself; you are quite obstinate + about it, and yet you are a doctor, and know quite well that damp air is + bad for you. You like to see me suffer, that’s what it is. You sat out + on the terrace all yesterday evening on purpose. + </p> + <p> + DORN. [Sings] + </p> + <p> + “Oh, tell me not that youth is wasted.” + </p> + <p> + PAULINA. You were so enchanted by the conversation of Madame Arkadina + that you did not even notice the cold. Confess that you admire her. + </p> + <p> + DORN. I am fifty-five years old. + </p> + <p> + PAULINA. A trifle. That is not old for a man. You have kept your looks + magnificently, and women still like you. + </p> + <p> + DORN. What are you trying to tell me? + </p> + <p> + PAULINA. You men are all ready to go down on your knees to an actress, + all of you. + </p> + <p> + DORN. [Sings] + </p> + <p> + “Once more I stand before thee.” + </p> + <p> + It is only right that artists should be made much of by society and + treated differently from, let us say, merchants. It is a kind of + idealism. + </p> + <p> + PAULINA. When women have loved you and thrown themselves at your head, + has that been idealism? + </p> + <p> + DORN. [Shrugging his shoulders] I can’t say. There has been a great deal + that was admirable in my relations with women. In me they liked, above + all, the superior doctor. Ten years ago, you remember, I was the only + decent doctor they had in this part of the country—and then, I + have always acted like a man of honour. + </p> + <p> + PAULINA. [Seizes his hand] Dearest! + </p> + <p> + DORN. Be quiet! Here they come. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA comes in on SORIN’S arm; also TRIGORIN, SHAMRAEFF, MEDVIEDENKO, + and MASHA. + </p> + <p> + SHAMRAEFF. She acted most beautifully at the Poltava Fair in 1873; she + was really magnificent. But tell me, too, where Tchadin the comedian is + now? He was inimitable as Rasplueff, better than Sadofski. Where is he + now? + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. Don’t ask me where all those antediluvians are! I know nothing + about them. [She sits down.] + </p> + <p> + SHAMRAEFF. [Sighing] Pashka Tchadin! There are none left like him. The + stage is not what it was in his time. There were sturdy oaks growing on + it then, where now but stumps remain. + </p> + <p> + DORN. It is true that we have few dazzling geniuses these days, but, on + the other hand, the average of acting is much higher. + </p> + <p> + SHAMRAEFF. I cannot agree with you; however, that is a matter of taste, + <i>de gustibus.</i> + </p> + <p> + Enter TREPLIEFF from behind the stage. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. When will the play begin, my dear boy? + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. In a moment. I must ask you to have patience. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. [Quoting from Hamlet] My son, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Thou turn’st mine eyes into my very soul; + And there I see such black grained spots + As will not leave their tinct.” + </pre> + <p> + [A horn is blown behind the stage.] + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. Attention, ladies and gentlemen! The play is about to begin. + [A pause] I shall commence. [He taps the door with a stick, and speaks + in a loud voice] O, ye time-honoured, ancient mists that drive at night + across the surface of this lake, blind you our eyes with sleep, and show + us in our dreams that which will be in twice ten thousand years! + </p> + <p> + SORIN. There won’t be anything in twice ten thousand years. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. Then let them now show us that nothingness. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. Yes, let them—we are asleep. + </p> + <p> + The curtain rises. A vista opens across the lake. The moon hangs low + above the horizon and is reflected in the water. NINA, dressed in white, + is seen seated on a great rock. + </p> + <p> + NINA. All men and beasts, lions, eagles, and quails, horned stags, + geese, spiders, silent fish that inhabit the waves, starfish from the + sea, and creatures invisible to the eye—in one word, life—all, + all life, completing the dreary round imposed upon it, has died out at + last. A thousand years have passed since the earth last bore a living + creature on her breast, and the unhappy moon now lights her lamp in + vain. No longer are the cries of storks heard in the meadows, or the + drone of beetles in the groves of limes. All is cold, cold. All is void, + void, void. All is terrible, terrible—[A pause] The bodies of all + living creatures have dropped to dust, and eternal matter has + transformed them into stones and water and clouds; but their spirits + have flowed together into one, and that great world-soul am I! In me is + the spirit of the great Alexander, the spirit of Napoleon, of Caesar, of + Shakespeare, and of the tiniest leech that swims. In me the + consciousness of man has joined hands with the instinct of the animal; I + understand all, all, all, and each life lives again in me. + </p> + <p> + [The will-o-the-wisps flicker out along the lake shore.] + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. [Whispers] What decadent rubbish is this? + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. [Imploringly] Mother! + </p> + <p> + NINA. I am alone. Once in a hundred years my lips are opened, my voice + echoes mournfully across the desert earth, and no one hears. And you, + poor lights of the marsh, you do not hear me. You are engendered at + sunset in the putrid mud, and flit wavering about the lake till dawn, + unconscious, unreasoning, unwarmed by the breath of life. Satan, father + of eternal matter, trembling lest the spark of life should glow in you, + has ordered an unceasing movement of the atoms that compose you, and so + you shift and change for ever. I, the spirit of the universe, I alone am + immutable and eternal. [A pause] Like a captive in a dungeon deep and + void, I know not where I am, nor what awaits me. One thing only is not + hidden from me: in my fierce and obstinate battle with Satan, the source + of the forces of matter, I am destined to be victorious in the end. + Matter and spirit will then be one at last in glorious harmony, and the + reign of freedom will begin on earth. But this can only come to pass by + slow degrees, when after countless eons the moon and earth and shining + Sirius himself shall fall to dust. Until that hour, oh, horror! horror! + horror! [A pause. Two glowing red points are seen shining across the + lake] Satan, my mighty foe, advances; I see his dread and lurid eyes. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. I smell sulphur. Is that done on purpose? + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. Yes. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. Oh, I see; that is part of the effect. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. Mother! + </p> + <p> + NINA. He longs for man— + </p> + <p> + PAULINA. [To DORN] You have taken off your hat again! Put it on, you + will catch cold. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. The doctor has taken off his hat to Satan father of eternal + matter— + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. [Loudly and angrily] Enough of this! There’s an end to the + performance. Down with the curtain! + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. Why, what are you so angry about? + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. [Stamping his foot] The curtain; down with it! [The curtain + falls] Excuse me, I forgot that only a chosen few might write plays or + act them. I have infringed the monopoly. I—I—- + </p> + <p> + He would like to say more, but waves his hand instead, and goes out to + the left. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. What is the matter with him? + </p> + <p> + SORIN. You should not handle youthful egoism so roughly, sister. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. What did I say to him? + </p> + <p> + SORIN. You hurt his feelings. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. But he told me himself that this was all in fun, so I treated + his play as if it were a comedy. + </p> + <p> + SORIN. Nevertheless—- + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. Now it appears that he has produced a masterpiece, if you + please! I suppose it was not meant to amuse us at all, but that he + arranged the performance and fumigated us with sulphur to demonstrate to + us how plays should be written, and what is worth acting. I am tired of + him. No one could stand his constant thrusts and sallies. He is a + wilful, egotistic boy. + </p> + <p> + SORIN. He had hoped to give you pleasure. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. Is that so? I notice, though, that he did not choose an + ordinary play, but forced his decadent trash on us. I am willing to + listen to any raving, so long as it is not meant seriously, but in + showing us this, he pretended to be introducing us to a new form of art, + and inaugurating a new era. In my opinion, there was nothing new about + it, it was simply an exhibition of bad temper. + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. Everybody must write as he feels, and as best he may. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. Let him write as he feels and can, but let him spare me his + nonsense. + </p> + <p> + DORN. Thou art angry, O Jove! + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. I am a woman, not Jove. [She lights a cigarette] And I am not + angry, I am only sorry to see a young man foolishly wasting his time. I + did not mean to hurt him. + </p> + <p> + MEDVIEDENKO. No one has any ground for separating life from matter, as + the spirit may well consist of the union of material atoms. [Excitedly, + to TRIGORIN] Some day you should write a play, and put on the stage the + life of a schoolmaster. It is a hard, hard life. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. I agree with you, but do not let us talk about plays or atoms + now. This is such a lovely evening. Listen to the singing, friends, how + sweet it sounds. + </p> + <p> + PAULINA. Yes, they are singing across the water. [A pause.] + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. [To TRIGORIN] Sit down beside me here. Ten or fifteen years + ago we had music and singing on this lake almost all night. There are + six houses on its shores. All was noise and laughter and romance then, + such romance! The young star and idol of them all in those days was this + man here, [Nods toward DORN] Doctor Eugene Dorn. He is fascinating now, + but he was irresistible then. But my conscience is beginning to prick + me. Why did I hurt my poor boy? I am uneasy about him. [Loudly] + Constantine! Constantine! + </p> + <p> + MASHA. Shall I go and find him? + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. If you please, my dear. + </p> + <p> + MASHA. [Goes off to the left, calling] Mr. Constantine! Oh, Mr. + Constantine! + </p> + <p> + NINA. [Comes in from behind the stage] I see that the play will never be + finished, so now I can go home. Good evening. [She kisses ARKADINA and + PAULINA.] + </p> + <p> + SORIN. Bravo! Bravo! + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. Bravo! Bravo! We were quite charmed by your acting. With your + looks and such a lovely voice it is a crime for you to hide yourself in + the country. You must be very talented. It is your duty to go on the + stage, do you hear me? + </p> + <p> + NINA. It is the dream of my life, which will never come true. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. Who knows? Perhaps it will. But let me present Monsieur Boris + Trigorin. + </p> + <p> + NINA. I am delighted to meet you. [Embarrassed] I have read all your + books. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. [Drawing NINA down beside her] Don’t be afraid of him, dear. + He is a simple, good-natured soul, even if he is a celebrity. See, he is + embarrassed himself. + </p> + <p> + DORN. Couldn’t the curtain be raised now? It is depressing to have it + down. + </p> + <p> + SHAMRAEFF. [Loudly] Jacob, my man! Raise the curtain! + </p> + <p> + NINA. [To TRIGORIN] It was a curious play, wasn’t it? + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. Very. I couldn’t understand it at all, but I watched it with + the greatest pleasure because you acted with such sincerity, and the + setting was beautiful. [A pause] There must be a lot of fish in this + lake. + </p> + <p> + NINA. Yes, there are. + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. I love fishing. I know of nothing pleasanter than to sit on a + lake shore in the evening with one’s eyes on a floating cork. + </p> + <p> + NINA. Why, I should think that for one who has tasted the joys of + creation, no other pleasure could exist. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. Don’t talk like that. He always begins to flounder when people + say nice things to him. + </p> + <p> + SHAMRAEFF. I remember when the famous Silva was singing once in the + Opera House at Moscow, how delighted we all were when he took the low C. + Well, you can imagine our astonishment when one of the church cantors, + who happened to be sitting in the gallery, suddenly boomed out: “Bravo, + Silva!” a whole octave lower. Like this: [In a deep bass voice] “Bravo, + Silva!” The audience was left breathless. [A pause.] + </p> + <p> + DORN. An angel of silence is flying over our heads. + </p> + <p> + NINA. I must go. Good-bye. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. Where to? Where must you go so early? We shan’t allow it. + </p> + <p> + NINA. My father is waiting for me. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. How cruel he is, really. [They kiss each other] Then I suppose + we can’t keep you, but it is very hard indeed to let you go. + </p> + <p> + NINA. If you only knew how hard it is for me to leave you all. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. Somebody must see you home, my pet. + </p> + <p> + NINA. [Startled] No, no! + </p> + <p> + SORIN. [Imploringly] Don’t go! + </p> + <p> + NINA. I must. + </p> + <p> + SORIN. Stay just one hour more, and all. Come now, really, you know. + </p> + <p> + NINA. [Struggling against her desire to stay; through her tears] No, no, + I can’t. [She shakes hands with him and quickly goes out.] + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. An unlucky girl! They say that her mother left the whole of an + immense fortune to her husband, and now the child is penniless because + the father has already willed everything away to his second wife. It is + pitiful. + </p> + <p> + DORN. Yes, her papa is a perfect beast, and I don’t mind saying so—it + is what he deserves. + </p> + <p> + SORIN. [Rubbing his chilled hands] Come, let us go in; the night is + damp, and my legs are aching. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. Yes, you act as if they were turned to stone; you can hardly + move them. Come, you unfortunate old man. [She takes his arm.] + </p> + <p> + SHAMRAEFF. [Offering his arm to his wife] Permit me, madame. + </p> + <p> + SORIN. I hear that dog howling again. Won’t you please have it + unchained, Shamraeff? + </p> + <p> + SHAMRAEFF. No, I really can’t, sir. The granary is full of millet, and I + am afraid thieves might break in if the dog were not there. [Walking + beside MEDVIEDENKO] Yes, a whole octave lower: “Bravo, Silva!” and he + wasn’t a singer either, just a simple church cantor. + </p> + <p> + MEDVIEDENKO. What salary does the church pay its singers? [All go out + except DORN.] + </p> + <p> + DORN. I may have lost my judgment and my wits, but I must confess I + liked that play. There was something in it. When the girl spoke of her + solitude and the Devil’s eyes gleamed across the lake, I felt my hands + shaking with excitement. It was so fresh and naive. But here he comes; + let me say something pleasant to him. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF comes in. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. All gone already? + </p> + <p> + DORN. I am here. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. Masha has been yelling for me all over the park. An + insufferable creature. + </p> + <p> + DORN. Constantine, your play delighted me. It was strange, of course, + and I did not hear the end, but it made a deep impression on me. You + have a great deal of talent, and must persevere in your work. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF seizes his hand and squeezes it hard, then kisses him + impetuously. + </p> + <p> + DORN. Tut, tut! how excited you are. Your eyes are full of tears. Listen + to me. You chose your subject in the realm of abstract thought, and you + did quite right. A work of art should invariably embody some lofty idea. + Only that which is seriously meant can ever be beautiful. How pale you + are! + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. So you advise me to persevere? + </p> + <p> + DORN. Yes, but use your talent to express only deep and eternal truths. + I have led a quiet life, as you know, and am a contented man, but if I + should ever experience the exaltation that an artist feels during his + moments of creation, I think I should spurn this material envelope of my + soul and everything connected with it, and should soar away into heights + above this earth. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. I beg your pardon, but where is Nina? + </p> + <p> + DORN. And yet another thing: every work of art should have a definite + object in view. You should know why you are writing, for if you follow + the road of art without a goal before your eyes, you will lose yourself, + and your genius will be your ruin. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. [Impetuously] Where is Nina? + </p> + <p> + DORN. She has gone home. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. [In despair] Gone home? What shall I do? I want to see her; I + must see her! I shall follow her. + </p> + <p> + DORN. My dear boy, keep quiet. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. I am going. I must go. + </p> + <p> + MASHA comes in. + </p> + <p> + MASHA. Your mother wants you to come in, Mr. Constantine. She is waiting + for you, and is very uneasy. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. Tell her I have gone away. And for heaven’s sake, all of you, + leave me alone! Go away! Don’t follow me about! + </p> + <p> + DORN. Come, come, old chap, don’t act like this; it isn’t kind at all. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. [Through his tears] Good-bye, doctor, and thank you. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF goes out. + </p> + <p> + DORN. [Sighing] Ah, youth, youth! + </p> + <p> + MASHA. It is always “Youth, youth,” when there is nothing else to be + said. + </p> + <p> + She takes snuff. DORN takes the snuff-box out of her hands and flings it + into the bushes. + </p> + <p> + DORN. Don’t do that, it is horrid. [A pause] I hear music in the house. + I must go in. + </p> + <p> + MASHA. Wait a moment. + </p> + <p> + DORN. What do you want? + </p> + <p> + MASHA. Let me tell you again. I feel like talking. [She grows more and + more excited] I do not love my father, but my heart turns to you. For + some reason, I feel with all my soul that you are near to me. Help me! + Help me, or I shall do something foolish and mock at my life, and ruin + it. I am at the end of my strength. + </p> + <p> + DORN. What is the matter? How can I help you? + </p> + <p> + MASHA. I am in agony. No one, no one can imagine how I suffer. [She lays + her head on his shoulder and speaks softly] I love Constantine. + </p> + <p> + DORN. Oh, how excitable you all are! And how much love there is about + this lake of spells! [Tenderly] But what can I do for you, my child? + What? What? + </p> + <p> + The curtain falls. + </p> + </div> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ACT II + </h2> + <p> + <i>The lawn in front of SORIN’S house. The house stands in the background, + on a broad terrace. The lake, brightly reflecting the rays of the sun, + lies to the left. There are flower-beds here and there. It is noon; the + day is hot. ARKADINA, DORN, and MASHA are sitting on a bench on the lawn, + in the shade of an old linden. An open book is lying on DORN’S knees</i>. + </p> + <div style="margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%;"> + <p> + ARKADINA. [To MASHA] Come, get up. [They both get up] Stand beside me. + You are twenty-two and I am almost twice your age. Tell me, Doctor, + which of us is the younger looking? + </p> + <p> + DORN. You are, of course. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. You see! Now why is it? Because I work; my heart and mind are + always busy, whereas you never move off the same spot. You don’t live. + It is a maxim of mine never to look into the future. I never admit the + thought of old age or death, and just accept what comes to me. + </p> + <p> + MASHA. I feel as if I had been in the world a thousand years, and I + trail my life behind me like an endless scarf. Often I have no desire to + live at all. Of course that is foolish. One ought to pull oneself + together and shake off such nonsense. + </p> + <p> + DORN. [Sings softly] + </p> + <p> + “Tell her, oh flowers—” + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. And then I keep myself as correct-looking as an Englishman. I + am always well-groomed, as the saying is, and carefully dressed, with my + hair neatly arranged. Do you think I should ever permit myself to leave + the house half-dressed, with untidy hair? Certainly not! I have kept my + looks by never letting myself slump as some women do. [She puts her arms + akimbo, and walks up and down on the lawn] See me, tripping on tiptoe + like a fifteen-year-old girl. + </p> + <p> + DORN. I see. Nevertheless, I shall continue my reading. [He takes up his + book] Let me see, we had come to the grain-dealer and the rats. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. And the rats. Go on. [She sits down] No, give me the book, it + is my turn to read. [She takes the book and looks for the place] And the + rats. Ah, here it is. [She reads] “It is as dangerous for society to + attract and indulge authors as it is for grain-dealers to raise rats in + their granaries. Yet society loves authors. And so, when a woman has + found one whom she wishes to make her own, she lays siege to him by + indulging and flattering him.” That may be so in France, but it + certainly is not so in Russia. We do not carry out a programme like + that. With us, a woman is usually head over ears in love with an author + before she attempts to lay siege to him. You have an example before your + eyes, in me and Trigorin. + </p> + <p> + SORIN comes in leaning on a cane, with NINA beside him. MEDVIEDENKO + follows, pushing an arm-chair. + </p> + <p> + SORIN. [In a caressing voice, as if speaking to a child] So we are happy + now, eh? We are enjoying ourselves to-day, are we? Father and stepmother + have gone away to Tver, and we are free for three whole days! + </p> + <p> + NINA. [Sits down beside ARKADINA, and embraces her] I am so happy. I + belong to you now. + </p> + <p> + SORIN. [Sits down in his arm-chair] She looks lovely to-day. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. Yes, she has put on her prettiest dress, and looks sweet. That + was nice of you. [She kisses NINA] But we mustn’t praise her too much; + we shall spoil her. Where is Trigorin? + </p> + <p> + NINA. He is fishing off the wharf. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. I wonder he isn’t bored. [She begins to read again.] + </p> + <p> + NINA. What are you reading? + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. “On the Water,” by Maupassant. [She reads a few lines to + herself] But the rest is neither true nor interesting. [She lays down + the book] I am uneasy about my son. Tell me, what is the matter with + him? Why is he so dull and depressed lately? He spends all his days on + the lake, and I scarcely ever see him any more. + </p> + <p> + MASHA. His heart is heavy. [Timidly, to NINA] Please recite something + from his play. + </p> + <p> + NINA. [Shrugging her shoulders] Shall I? Is it so interesting? + </p> + <p> + MASHA. [With suppressed rapture] When he recites, his eyes shine and his + face grows pale. His voice is beautiful and sad, and he has the ways of + a poet. + </p> + <p> + SORIN begins to snore. + </p> + <p> + DORN. Pleasant dreams! + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. Peter! + </p> + <p> + SORIN. Eh? + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. Are you asleep? + </p> + <p> + SORIN. Not a bit of it. [A pause.] + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. You don’t do a thing for your health, brother, but you really + ought to. + </p> + <p> + DORN. The idea of doing anything for one’s health at sixty-five! + </p> + <p> + SORIN. One still wants to live at sixty-five. + </p> + <p> + DORN. [Crossly] Ho! Take some camomile tea. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. I think a journey to some watering-place would be good for + him. + </p> + <p> + DORN. Why, yes; he might go as well as not. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. You don’t understand. + </p> + <p> + DORN. There is nothing to understand in this case; it is quite clear. + </p> + <p> + MEDVIEDENKO. He ought to give up smoking. + </p> + <p> + SORIN. What nonsense! [A pause.] + </p> + <p> + DORN. No, that is not nonsense. Wine and tobacco destroy the + individuality. After a cigar or a glass of vodka you are no longer Peter + Sorin, but Peter Sorin plus somebody else. Your ego breaks in two: you + begin to think of yourself in the third person. + </p> + <p> + SORIN. It is easy for you to condemn smoking and drinking; you have + known what life is, but what about me? I have served in the Department + of Justice for twenty-eight years, but I have never lived, I have never + had any experiences. You are satiated with life, and that is why you + have an inclination for philosophy, but I want to live, and that is why + I drink my wine for dinner and smoke cigars, and all. + </p> + <p> + DORN. One must take life seriously, and to take a cure at sixty-five and + regret that one did not have more pleasure in youth is, forgive my + saying so, trifling. + </p> + <p> + MASHA. It must be lunch-time. [She walks away languidly, with a dragging + step] My foot has gone to sleep. + </p> + <p> + DORN. She is going to have a couple of drinks before lunch. + </p> + <p> + SORIN. The poor soul is unhappy. + </p> + <p> + DORN. That is a trifle, your honour. + </p> + <p> + SORIN. You judge her like a man who has obtained all he wants in life. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. Oh, what could be duller than this dear tedium of the country? + The air is hot and still, nobody does anything but sit and philosophise + about life. It is pleasant, my friends, to sit and listen to you here, + but I had rather a thousand times sit alone in the room of a hotel + learning a role by heart. + </p> + <p> + NINA. [With enthusiasm] You are quite right. I understand how you feel. + </p> + <p> + SORIN. Of course it is pleasanter to live in town. One can sit in one’s + library with a telephone at one’s elbow, no one comes in without being + first announced by the footman, the streets are full of cabs, and all—- + </p> + <p> + DORN. [Sings] + </p> + <p> + “Tell her, oh flowers—-” + </p> + <p> + SHAMRAEFF comes in, followed by PAULINA. + </p> + <p> + SHAMRAEFF. Here they are. How do you do? [He kisses ARKADINA’S hand and + then NINA’S] I am delighted to see you looking so well. [To ARKADINA] My + wife tells me that you mean to go to town with her to-day. Is that so? + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. Yes, that is what I had planned to do. + </p> + <p> + SHAMRAEFF. Hm—that is splendid, but how do you intend to get + there, madam? We are hauling rye to-day, and all the men are busy. What + horses would you take? + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. What horses? How do I know what horses we shall have? + </p> + <p> + SORIN. Why, we have the carriage horses. + </p> + <p> + SHAMRAEFF. The carriage horses! And where am I to find the harness for + them? This is astonishing! My dear madam, I have the greatest respect + for your talents, and would gladly sacrifice ten years of my life for + you, but I cannot let you have any horses to-day. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. But if I must go to town? What an extraordinary state of + affairs! + </p> + <p> + SHAMRAEFF. You do not know, madam, what it is to run a farm. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. [In a burst of anger] That is an old story! Under these + circumstances I shall go back to Moscow this very day. Order a carriage + for me from the village, or I shall go to the station on foot. + </p> + <p> + SHAMRAEFF. [losing his temper] Under these circumstances I resign my + position. You must find yourself another manager. [He goes out.] + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. It is like this every summer: every summer I am insulted here. + I shall never set foot here again. + </p> + <p> + She goes out to the left, in the direction of the wharf. In a few + minutes she is seen entering the house, followed by TRIGORIN, who + carries a bucket and fishing-rod. + </p> + <p> + SORIN. [Losing his temper] What the deuce did he mean by his impudence? + I want all the horses brought here at once! + </p> + <p> + NINA. [To PAULINA] How could he refuse anything to Madame Arkadina, the + famous actress? Is not every wish, every caprice even, of hers, more + important than any farm work? This is incredible. + </p> + <p> + PAULINA. [In despair] What can I do about it? Put yourself in my place + and tell me what I can do. + </p> + <p> + SORIN. [To NINA] Let us go and find my sister, and all beg her not to + go. [He looks in the direction in which SHAMRAEFF went out] That man is + insufferable; a regular tyrant. + </p> + <p> + NINA. [Preventing him from getting up] Sit still, sit still, and let us + wheel you. [She and MEDVIEDENKO push the chair before them] This is + terrible! + </p> + <p> + SORIN. Yes, yes, it is terrible; but he won’t leave. I shall have a talk + with him in a moment. [They go out. Only DORN and PAULINA are left.] + </p> + <p> + DORN. How tiresome people are! Your husband deserves to be thrown out of + here neck and crop, but it will all end by this old granny Sorin and his + sister asking the man’s pardon. See if it doesn’t. + </p> + <p> + PAULINA. He has sent the carriage horses into the fields too. These + misunderstandings occur every day. If you only knew how they excite me! + I am ill; see! I am trembling all over! I cannot endure his rough ways. + [Imploringly] Eugene, my darling, my beloved, take me to you. Our time + is short; we are no longer young; let us end deception and concealment, + even though it is only at the end of our lives. [A pause.] + </p> + <p> + DORN. I am fifty-five years old. It is too late now for me to change my + ways of living. + </p> + <p> + PAULINA. I know that you refuse me because there are other women who are + near to you, and you cannot take everybody. I understand. Excuse me—I + see I am only bothering you. + </p> + <p> + NINA is seen near the house picking a bunch of flowers. + </p> + <p> + DORN. No, it is all right. + </p> + <p> + PAULINA. I am tortured by jealousy. Of course you are a doctor and + cannot escape from women. I understand. + </p> + <p> + DORN. [TO NINA, who comes toward him] How are things in there? + </p> + <p> + NINA. Madame Arkadina is crying, and Sorin is having an attack of + asthma. + </p> + <p> + DORN. Let us go and give them both some camomile tea. + </p> + <p> + NINA. [Hands him the bunch of flowers] Here are some flowers for you. + </p> + <p> + DORN. Thank you. [He goes into the house.] + </p> + <p> + PAULINA. [Following him] What pretty flowers! [As they reach the house + she says in a low voice] Give me those flowers! Give them to me! + </p> + <p> + DORN hands her the flowers; she tears them to pieces and flings them + away. They both go into the house. + </p> + <p> + NINA. [Alone] How strange to see a famous actress weeping, and for such + a trifle! Is it not strange, too, that a famous author should sit + fishing all day? He is the idol of the public, the papers are full of + him, his photograph is for sale everywhere, his works have been + translated into many foreign languages, and yet he is overjoyed if he + catches a couple of minnows. I always thought famous people were distant + and proud; I thought they despised the common crowd which exalts riches + and birth, and avenged themselves on it by dazzling it with the + inextinguishable honour and glory of their fame. But here I see them + weeping and playing cards and flying into passions like everybody else. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF comes in without a hat on, carrying a gun and a dead seagull. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. Are you alone here? + </p> + <p> + NINA. Yes. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF lays the sea-gull at her feet. + </p> + <p> + NINA. What do you mean by this? + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. I was base enough to-day to kill this gull. I lay it at your + feet. + </p> + <p> + NINA. What is happening to you? [She picks up the gull and stands + looking at it.] + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. [After a pause] So shall I soon end my own life. + </p> + <p> + NINA. You have changed so that I fail to recognise you. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. Yes, I have changed since the time when I ceased to recognise + you. You have failed me; your look is cold; you do not like to have me + near you. + </p> + <p> + NINA. You have grown so irritable lately, and you talk so darkly and + symbolically that you must forgive me if I fail to follow you. I am too + simple to understand you. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. All this began when my play failed so dismally. A woman never + can forgive failure. I have burnt the manuscript to the last page. Oh, + if you could only fathom my unhappiness! Your estrangement is to me + terrible, incredible; it is as if I had suddenly waked to find this lake + dried up and sunk into the earth. You say you are too simple to + understand me; but, oh, what is there to understand? You disliked my + play, you have no faith in my powers, you already think of me as + commonplace and worthless, as many are. [Stamping his foot] How well I + can understand your feelings! And that understanding is to me like a + dagger in the brain. May it be accursed, together with my stupidity, + which sucks my life-blood like a snake! [He sees TRIGORIN, who + approaches reading a book] There comes real genius, striding along like + another Hamlet, and with a book, too. [Mockingly] “Words, words, words.” + You feel the warmth of that sun already, you smile, your eyes melt and + glow liquid in its rays. I shall not disturb you. [He goes out.] + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. [Making notes in his book] Takes snuff and drinks vodka; + always wears black dresses; is loved by a schoolteacher— + </p> + <p> + NINA. How do you do? + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. How are you, Miss Nina? Owing to an unforeseen development of + circumstances, it seems that we are leaving here today. You and I shall + probably never see each other again, and I am sorry for it. I seldom + meet a young and pretty girl now; I can hardly remember how it feels to + be nineteen, and the young girls in my books are seldom living + characters. I should like to change places with you, if but for an hour, + to look out at the world through your eyes, and so find out what sort of + a little person you are. + </p> + <p> + NINA. And I should like to change places with you. + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. Why? + </p> + <p> + NINA. To find out how a famous genius feels. What is it like to be + famous? What sensations does it give you? + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. What sensations? I don’t believe it gives any. [Thoughtfully] + Either you exaggerate my fame, or else, if it exists, all I can say is + that one simply doesn’t feel fame in any way. + </p> + <p> + NINA. But when you read about yourself in the papers? + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. If the critics praise me, I am happy; if they condemn me, I am + out of sorts for the next two days. + </p> + <p> + NINA. This is a wonderful world. If you only knew how I envy you! Men + are born to different destinies. Some dully drag a weary, useless life + behind them, lost in the crowd, unhappy, while to one out of a million, + as to you, for instance, comes a bright destiny full of interest and + meaning. You are lucky. + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. I, lucky? [He shrugs his shoulders] H-m—I hear you + talking about fame, and happiness, and bright destinies, and those fine + words of yours mean as much to me—forgive my saying so—as + sweetmeats do, which I never eat. You are very young, and very kind. + </p> + <p> + NINA. Your life is beautiful. + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. I see nothing especially lovely about it. [He looks at his + watch] Excuse me, I must go at once, and begin writing again. I am in a + hurry. [He laughs] You have stepped on my pet corn, as they say, and I + am getting excited, and a little cross. Let us discuss this bright and + beautiful life of mine, though. [After a few moments’ thought] Violent + obsessions sometimes lay hold of a man: he may, for instance, think day + and night of nothing but the moon. I have such a moon. Day and night I + am held in the grip of one besetting thought, to write, write, write! + Hardly have I finished one book than something urges me to write + another, and then a third, and then a fourth—I write ceaselessly. + I am, as it were, on a treadmill. I hurry for ever from one story to + another, and can’t help myself. Do you see anything bright and beautiful + in that? Oh, it is a wild life! Even now, thrilled as I am by talking to + you, I do not forget for an instant that an unfinished story is awaiting + me. My eye falls on that cloud there, which has the shape of a grand + piano; I instantly make a mental note that I must remember to mention in + my story a cloud floating by that looked like a grand piano. I smell + heliotrope; I mutter to myself: a sickly smell, the colour worn by + widows; I must remember that in writing my next description of a summer + evening. I catch an idea in every sentence of yours or of my own, and + hasten to lock all these treasures in my literary store-room, thinking + that some day they may be useful to me. As soon as I stop working I rush + off to the theatre or go fishing, in the hope that I may find oblivion + there, but no! Some new subject for a story is sure to come rolling + through my brain like an iron cannonball. I hear my desk calling, and + have to go back to it and begin to write, write, write, once more. And + so it goes for everlasting. I cannot escape myself, though I feel that I + am consuming my life. To prepare the honey I feed to unknown crowds, I + am doomed to brush the bloom from my dearest flowers, to tear them from + their stems, and trample the roots that bore them under foot. Am I not a + madman? Should I not be treated by those who know me as one mentally + diseased? Yet it is always the same, same old story, till I begin to + think that all this praise and admiration must be a deception, that I am + being hoodwinked because they know I am crazy, and I sometimes tremble + lest I should be grabbed from behind and whisked off to a lunatic + asylum. The best years of my youth were made one continual agony for me + by my writing. A young author, especially if at first he does not make a + success, feels clumsy, ill-at-ease, and superfluous in the world. His + nerves are all on edge and stretched to the point of breaking; he is + irresistibly attracted to literary and artistic people, and hovers about + them unknown and unnoticed, fearing to look them bravely in the eye, + like a man with a passion for gambling, whose money is all gone. I did + not know my readers, but for some reason I imagined they were + distrustful and unfriendly; I was mortally afraid of the public, and + when my first play appeared, it seemed to me as if all the dark eyes in + the audience were looking at it with enmity, and all the blue ones with + cold indifference. Oh, how terrible it was! What agony! + </p> + <p> + NINA. But don’t your inspiration and the act of creation give you + moments of lofty happiness? + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. Yes. Writing is a pleasure to me, and so is reading the + proofs, but no sooner does a book leave the press than it becomes odious + to me; it is not what I meant it to be; I made a mistake to write it at + all; I am provoked and discouraged. Then the public reads it and says: + “Yes, it is clever and pretty, but not nearly as good as Tolstoi,” or + “It is a lovely thing, but not as good as Turgenieff’s ‘Fathers and + Sons,’” and so it will always be. To my dying day I shall hear people + say: “Clever and pretty; clever and pretty,” and nothing more; and when + I am gone, those that knew me will say as they pass my grave: “Here lies + Trigorin, a clever writer, but he was not as good as Turgenieff.” + </p> + <p> + NINA. You must excuse me, but I decline to understand what you are + talking about. The fact is, you have been spoilt by your success. + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. What success have I had? I have never pleased myself; as a + writer, I do not like myself at all. The trouble is that I am made + giddy, as it were, by the fumes of my brain, and often hardly know what + I am writing. I love this lake, these trees, the blue heaven; nature’s + voice speaks to me and wakes a feeling of passion in my heart, and I am + overcome by an uncontrollable desire to write. But I am not only a + painter of landscapes, I am a man of the city besides. I love my + country, too, and her people; I feel that, as a writer, it is my duty to + speak of their sorrows, of their future, also of science, of the rights + of man, and so forth. So I write on every subject, and the public hounds + me on all sides, sometimes in anger, and I race and dodge like a fox + with a pack of hounds on his trail. I see life and knowledge flitting + away before me. I am left behind them like a peasant who has missed his + train at a station, and finally I come back to the conclusion that all I + am fit for is to describe landscapes, and that whatever else I attempt + rings abominably false. + </p> + <p> + NINA. You work too hard to realise the importance of your writings. What + if you are discontented with yourself? To others you appear a great and + splendid man. If I were a writer like you I should devote my whole life + to the service of the Russian people, knowing at the same time that + their welfare depended on their power to rise to the heights I had + attained, and the people should send me before them in a chariot of + triumph. + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. In a chariot? Do you think I am Agamemnon? [They both smile.] + </p> + <p> + NINA. For the bliss of being a writer or an actress I could endure want, + and disillusionment, and the hatred of my friends, and the pangs of my + own dissatisfaction with myself; but I should demand in return fame, + real, resounding fame! [She covers her face with her hands] Whew! My + head reels! + </p> + <p> + THE VOICE OF ARKADINA. [From inside the house] Boris! Boris! + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. She is calling me, probably to come and pack, but I don’t want + to leave this place. [His eyes rest on the lake] What a blessing such + beauty is! + </p> + <p> + NINA. Do you see that house there, on the far shore? + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. Yes. + </p> + <p> + NINA. That was my dead mother’s home. I was born there, and have lived + all my life beside this lake. I know every little island in it. + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. This is a beautiful place to live. [He catches sight of the + dead sea-gull] What is that? + </p> + <p> + NINA. A gull. Constantine shot it. + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. What a lovely bird! Really, I can’t bear to go away. Can’t you + persuade Irina to stay? [He writes something in his note-book.] + </p> + <p> + NINA. What are you writing? + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. Nothing much, only an idea that occurred to me. [He puts the + book back in his pocket] An idea for a short story. A young girl grows + up on the shores of a lake, as you have. She loves the lake as the gulls + do, and is as happy and free as they. But a man sees her who chances to + come that way, and he destroys her out of idleness, as this gull here + has been destroyed. [A pause. ARKADINA appears at one of the windows.] + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. Boris! Where are you? + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. I am coming this minute. + </p> + <p> + He goes toward the house, looking back at NINA. ARKADINA remains at the + window. + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. What do you want? + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. We are not going away, after all. + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN goes into the house. NINA comes forward and stands lost in + thought. + </p> + <p> + NINA. It is a dream! + </p> + <p> + The curtain falls. + </p> + </div> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ACT III + </h2> + <p> + <i>The dining-room of SORIN’S house. Doors open out of it to the right and + left. A table stands in the centre of the room. Trunks and boxes encumber + the floor, and preparations for departure are evident. TRIGORIN is sitting + at a table eating his breakfast, and MASHA is standing beside him</i>. + </p> + <div style="margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%;"> + <p> + MASHA. I am telling you all these things because you write books and + they may be useful to you. I tell you honestly, I should not have lived + another day if he had wounded himself fatally. Yet I am courageous; I + have decided to tear this love of mine out of my heart by the roots. + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. How will you do it? + </p> + <p> + MASHA. By marrying Medviedenko. + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. The school-teacher? + </p> + <p> + MASHA. Yes. + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. I don’t see the necessity for that. + </p> + <p> + MASHA. Oh, if you knew what it is to love without hope for years and + years, to wait for ever for something that will never come! I shall not + marry for love, but marriage will at least be a change, and will bring + new cares to deaden the memories of the past. Shall we have another + drink? + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. Haven’t you had enough? + </p> + <p> + MASHA. Fiddlesticks! [She fills a glass] Don’t look at me with that + expression on your face. Women drink oftener than you imagine, but most + of them do it in secret, and not openly, as I do. They do indeed, and it + is always either vodka or brandy. [They touch glasses] To your good + health! You are so easy to get on with that I am sorry to see you go. + [They drink.] + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. And I am sorry to leave. + </p> + <p> + MASHA. You should ask her to stay. + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. She would not do that now. Her son has been behaving + outrageously. First he attempted suicide, and now I hear he is going to + challenge me to a duel, though what his provocation may be I can’t + imagine. He is always sulking and sneering and preaching about a new + form of art, as if the field of art were not large enough to accommodate + both old and new without the necessity of jostling. + </p> + <p> + MASHA. It is jealousy. However, that is none of my business. [A pause. + JACOB walks through the room carrying a trunk; NINA comes in and stands + by the window] That schoolteacher of mine is none too clever, but he is + very good, poor man, and he loves me dearly, and I am sorry for him. + However, let me say good-bye and wish you a pleasant journey. Remember + me kindly in your thoughts. [She shakes hands with him] Thanks for your + goodwill. Send me your books, and be sure to write something in them; + nothing formal, but simply this: “To Masha, who, forgetful of her + origin, for some unknown reason is living in this world.” Good-bye. [She + goes out.] + </p> + <p> + NINA. [Holding out her closed hand to TRIGORIN] Is it odd or even? + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. Even. + </p> + <p> + NINA. [With a sigh] No, it is odd. I had only one pea in my hand. I + wanted to see whether I was to become an actress or not. If only some + one would advise me what to do! + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. One cannot give advice in a case like this. [A pause.] + </p> + <p> + NINA. We shall soon part, perhaps never to meet again. I should like you + to accept this little medallion as a remembrance of me. I have had your + initials engraved on it, and on this side is the name of one of your + books: “Days and Nights.” + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. How sweet of you! [He kisses the medallion] It is a lovely + present. + </p> + <p> + NINA. Think of me sometimes. + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. I shall never forget you. I shall always remember you as I saw + you that bright day—do you recall it?—a week ago, when you + wore your light dress, and we talked together, and the white seagull lay + on the bench beside us. + </p> + <p> + NINA. [Lost in thought] Yes, the sea-gull. [A pause] I beg you to let me + see you alone for two minutes before you go. + </p> + <p> + She goes out to the left. At the same moment ARKADINA comes in from the + right, followed by SORIN in a long coat, with his orders on his breast, + and by JACOB, who is busy packing. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. Stay here at home, you poor old man. How could you pay visits + with that rheumatism of yours? [To TRIGORIN] Who left the room just now, + was it Nina? + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. Yes. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. I beg your pardon; I am afraid we interrupted you. [She sits + down] I think everything is packed. I am absolutely exhausted. + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. [Reading the inscription on the medallion] “Days and Nights, + page 121, lines 11 and 12.” + </p> + <p> + JACOB. [Clearing the table] Shall I pack your fishing-rods, too, sir? + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. Yes, I shall need them, but you can give my books away. + </p> + <p> + JACOB. Very well, sir. + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. [To himself] Page 121, lines 11 and 12. [To ARKADINA] Have we + my books here in the house? + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. Yes, they are in my brother’s library, in the corner cupboard. + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. Page 121—[He goes out.] + </p> + <p> + SORIN. You are going away, and I shall be lonely without you. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. What would you do in town? + </p> + <p> + SORIN. Oh, nothing in particular, but somehow—[He laughs] They are + soon to lay the corner-stone of the new court-house here. How I should + like to leap out of this minnow-pond, if but for an hour or two! I am + tired of lying here like an old cigarette stump. I have ordered the + carriage for one o’clock. We can go away together. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. [After a pause] No, you must stay here. Don’t be lonely, and + don’t catch cold. Keep an eye on my boy. Take good care of him; guide + him along the proper paths. [A pause] I am going away, and so shall + never find out why Constantine shot himself, but I think the chief + reason was jealousy, and the sooner I take Trigorin away, the better. + </p> + <p> + SORIN. There were—how shall I explain it to you?—other + reasons besides jealousy for his act. Here is a clever young chap living + in the depths of the country, without money or position, with no future + ahead of him, and with nothing to do. He is ashamed and afraid of being + so idle. I am devoted to him and he is fond of me, but nevertheless he + feels that he is useless here, that he is little more than a dependent + in this house. It is the pride in him. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. He is a misery to me! [Thoughtfully] He might possibly enter + the army. + </p> + <p> + SORIN. [Gives a whistle, and then speaks with hesitation] It seems to me + that the best thing for him would be if you were to let him have a + little money. For one thing, he ought to be allowed to dress like a + human being. See how he looks! Wearing the same little old coat that he + has had for three years, and he doesn’t even possess an overcoat! + [Laughing] And it wouldn’t hurt the youngster to sow a few wild oats; + let him go abroad, say, for a time. It wouldn’t cost much. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. Yes, but—However, I think I might manage about his + clothes, but I couldn’t let him go abroad. And no, I don’t think I can + let him have his clothes even, now. [Decidedly] I have no money at + present. + </p> + <p> + SORIN laughs. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. I haven’t indeed. + </p> + <p> + SORIN. [Whistles] Very well. Forgive me, darling; don’t be angry. You + are a noble, generous woman! + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. [Weeping] I really haven’t the money. + </p> + <p> + SORIN. If I had any money of course I should let him have some myself, + but I haven’t even a penny. The farm manager takes my pension from me + and puts it all into the farm or into cattle or bees, and in that way it + is always lost for ever. The bees die, the cows die, they never let me + have a horse. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. Of course I have some money, but I am an actress and my + expenses for dress alone are enough to bankrupt me. + </p> + <p> + SORIN. You are a dear, and I am very fond of you, indeed I am. But + something is the matter with me again. [He staggers] I feel giddy. [He + leans against the table] I feel faint, and all. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. [Frightened ] Peter! [She tries to support him] Peter! + dearest! [She calls] Help! Help! + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF and MEDVIEDENKO come in; TREPLIEFF has a bandage around his + head. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. He is fainting! + </p> + <p> + SORIN. I am all right. [He smiles and drinks some water] It is all over + now. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. [To his mother] Don’t be frightened, mother, these attacks + are not dangerous; my uncle often has them now. [To his uncle] You must + go and lie down, Uncle. + </p> + <p> + SORIN. Yes, I think I shall, for a few minutes. I am going to Moscow all + the same, but I shall lie down a bit before I start. [He goes out + leaning on his cane.] + </p> + <p> + MEDVIEDENKO. [Giving him his arm] Do you know this riddle? On four legs + in the morning; on two legs at noon; and on three legs in the evening? + </p> + <p> + SORIN. [Laughing] Yes, exactly, and on one’s back at night. Thank you, I + can walk alone. + </p> + <p> + MEDVIEDENKO. Dear me, what formality! [He and SORIN go out.] + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. He gave me a dreadful fright. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. It is not good for him to live in the country. Mother, if you + would only untie your purse-strings for once, and lend him a thousand + roubles! He could then spend a whole year in town. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. I have no money. I am an actress and not a banker. [A pause.] + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. Please change my bandage for me, mother, you do it so gently. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA goes to the cupboard and takes out a box of bandages and a + bottle of iodoform. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. The doctor is late. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. Yes, he promised to be here at nine, and now it is noon + already. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. Sit down. [She takes the bandage off his head] You look as if + you had a turban on. A stranger that was in the kitchen yesterday asked + to what nationality you belonged. Your wound is almost healed. [She + kisses his head] You won’t be up to any more of these silly tricks + again, will you, when I am gone? + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. No, mother. I did that in a moment of insane despair, when I + had lost all control over myself. It will never happen again. [He kisses + her hand] Your touch is golden. I remember when you were still acting at + the State Theatre, long ago, when I was still a little chap, there was a + fight one day in our court, and a poor washerwoman was almost beaten to + death. She was picked up unconscious, and you nursed her till she was + well, and bathed her children in the washtubs. Have you forgotten it? + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. Yes, entirely. [She puts on a new bandage.] + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. Two ballet dancers lived in the same house, and they used to + come and drink coffee with you. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. I remember that. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. They were very pious. [A pause] I love you again, these last + few days, as tenderly and trustingly as I did as a child. I have no one + left me now but you. Why, why do you let yourself be controlled by that + man? + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. You don’t understand him, Constantine. He has a wonderfully + noble personality. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. Nevertheless, when he has been told that I wish to challenge + him to a duel his nobility does not prevent him from playing the coward. + He is about to beat an ignominious retreat. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. What nonsense! I have asked him myself to go. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. A noble personality indeed! Here we are almost quarrelling + over him, and he is probably in the garden laughing at us at this very + moment, or else enlightening Nina’s mind and trying to persuade her into + thinking him a man of genius. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. You enjoy saying unpleasant things to me. I have the greatest + respect for that man, and I must ask you not to speak ill of him in my + presence. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. I have no respect for him at all. You want me to think him a + genius, as you do, but I refuse to lie: his books make me sick. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. You envy him. There is nothing left for people with no talent + and mighty pretensions to do but to criticise those who are really + gifted. I hope you enjoy the consolation it brings. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. [With irony] Those who are really gifted, indeed! [Angrily] I + am cleverer than any of you, if it comes to that! [He tears the bandage + off his head] You are the slaves of convention, you have seized the + upper hand and now lay down as law everything that you do; all else you + strangle and trample on. I refuse to accept your point of view, yours + and his, I refuse! + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. That is the talk of a decadent. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. Go back to your beloved stage and act the miserable + ditch-water plays you so much admire! + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. I never acted in a play like that in my life. You couldn’t + write even the trashiest music-hall farce, you idle good-for-nothing! + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. Miser! + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. Rag-bag! + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF sits down and begins to cry softly. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. [Walking up and down in great excitement] Don’t cry! You + mustn’t cry! [She bursts into tears] You really mustn’t. [She kisses his + forehead, his cheeks, his head] My darling child, forgive me. Forgive + your wicked mother. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. [Embracing her] Oh, if you could only know what it is to have + lost everything under heaven! She does not love me. I see I shall never + be able to write. Every hope has deserted me. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. Don’t despair. This will all pass. He is going away to-day, + and she will love you once more. [She wipes away his tears] Stop crying. + We have made peace again. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. [Kissing her hand] Yes, mother. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. [Tenderly] Make your peace with him, too. Don’t fight with + him. You surely won’t fight? + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. I won’t, but you must not insist on my seeing him again, + mother, I couldn’t stand it. [TRIGORIN comes in] There he is; I am + going. [He quickly puts the medicines away in the cupboard] The doctor + will attend to my head. + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. [Looking through the pages of a book] Page 121, lines 11 and + 12; here it is. [He reads] “If at any time you should have need of my + life, come and take it.” + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF picks up the bandage off the floor and goes out. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. [Looking at her watch] The carriage will soon be here. + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. [To himself] If at any time you should have need of my life, + come and take it. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. I hope your things are all packed. + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. [Impatiently] Yes, yes. [In deep thought] Why do I hear a note + of sadness that wrings my heart in this cry of a pure soul? If at any + time you should have need of my life, come and take it. [To ARKADINA] + Let us stay here one more day! + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA shakes her head. + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. Do let us stay! + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. I know, dearest, what keeps you here, but you must control + yourself. Be sober; your emotions have intoxicated you a little. + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. You must be sober, too. Be sensible; look upon what has + happened as a true friend would. [Taking her hand] You are capable of + self-sacrifice. Be a friend to me and release me! + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. [In deep excitement] Are you so much in love? + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. I am irresistibly impelled toward her. It may be that this is + just what I need. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. What, the love of a country girl? Oh, how little you know + yourself! + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. People sometimes walk in their sleep, and so I feel as if I + were asleep, and dreaming of her as I stand here talking to you. My + imagination is shaken by the sweetest and most glorious visions. Release + me! + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. [Shuddering] No, no! I am only an ordinary woman; you must not + say such things to me. Do not torment me, Boris; you frighten me. + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. You could be an extraordinary woman if you only would. Love + alone can bring happiness on earth, love the enchanting, the poetical + love of youth, that sweeps away the sorrows of the world. I had no time + for it when I was young and struggling with want and laying siege to the + literary fortress, but now at last this love has come to me. I see it + beckoning; why should I fly? + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. [With anger] You are mad! + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. Release me. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. You have all conspired together to torture me to-day. [She + weeps.] + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. [Clutching his head desperately] She doesn’t understand me! + She won’t understand me! + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. Am I then so old and ugly already that you can talk to me like + this without any shame about another woman? [She embraces and kisses + him] Oh, you have lost your senses! My splendid, my glorious friend, my + love for you is the last chapter of my life. [She falls on her knees] + You are my pride, my joy, my light. [She embraces his knees] I could + never endure it should you desert me, if only for an hour; I should go + mad. Oh, my wonder, my marvel, my king! + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. Some one might come in. [He helps her to rise.] + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. Let them come! I am not ashamed of my love. [She kisses his + hands] My jewel! My despair! You want to do a foolish thing, but I don’t + want you to do it. I shan’t let you do it! [She laughs] You are mine, + you are mine! This forehead is mine, these eyes are mine, this silky + hair is mine. All your being is mine. You are so clever, so wise, the + first of all living writers; you are the only hope of your country. You + are so fresh, so simple, so deeply humourous. You can bring out every + feature of a man or of a landscape in a single line, and your characters + live and breathe. Do you think that these words are but the incense of + flattery? Do you think I am not speaking the truth? Come, look into my + eyes; look deep; do you find lies there? No, you see that I alone know + how to treasure you. I alone tell you the truth. Oh, my very dear, you + will go with me? You will? You will not forsake me? + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. I have no will of my own; I never had. I am too indolent, too + submissive, too phlegmatic, to have any. Is it possible that women like + that? Take me. Take me away with you, but do not let me stir a step from + your side. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. [To herself] Now he is mine! [Carelessly, as if nothing + unusual had happened] Of course you must stay here if you really want + to. I shall go, and you can follow in a week’s time. Yes, really, why + should you hurry away? + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. Let us go together. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. As you like. Let us go together then. [A pause. TRIGORIN + writes something in his note-book] What are you writing? + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. A happy expression I heard this morning: “A grove of maiden + pines.” It may be useful. [He yawns] So we are really off again, + condemned once more to railway carriages, to stations and restaurants, + to Hamburger steaks and endless arguments! + </p> + <p> + SHAMRAEFF comes in. + </p> + <p> + SHAMRAEFF. I am sorry to have to inform you that your carriage is at the + door. It is time to start, honoured madam, the train leaves at two-five. + Would you be kind enough, madam, to remember to inquire for me where + Suzdaltzeff the actor is now? Is he still alive, I wonder? Is he well? + He and I have had many a jolly time together. He was inimitable in “The + Stolen Mail.” A tragedian called Izmailoff was in the same company, I + remember, who was also quite remarkable. Don’t hurry, madam, you still + have five minutes. They were both of them conspirators once, in the same + melodrama, and one night when in the course of the play they were + suddenly discovered, instead of saying “We have been trapped!” Izmailoff + cried out: “We have been rapped!” [He laughs] Rapped! + </p> + <p> + While he has been talking JACOB has been busy with the trunks, and the + maid has brought ARKADINA her hat, coat, parasol, and gloves. The cook + looks hesitatingly through the door on the right, and finally comes into + the room. PAULINA comes in. MEDVIEDENKO comes in. + </p> + <p> + PAULINA. [Presenting ARKADINA with a little basket] Here are some plums + for the journey. They are very sweet ones. You may want to nibble + something good on the way. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. You are very kind, Paulina. + </p> + <p> + PAULINA. Good-bye, my dearie. If things have not been quite as you could + have wished, please forgive us. [She weeps.] + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. It has been delightful, delightful. You mustn’t cry. + </p> + <p> + SORIN comes in through the door on the left, dressed in a long coat with + a cape, and carrying his hat and cane. He crosses the room. + </p> + <p> + SORIN. Come, sister, it is time to start, unless you want to miss the + train. I am going to get into the carriage. [He goes out.] + </p> + <p> + MEDVIEDENKO. I shall walk quickly to the station and see you off there. + [He goes out.] + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. Good-bye, all! We shall meet again next summer if we live. + [The maid servant, JACOB, and the cook kiss her hand] Don’t forget me. + [She gives the cook a rouble] There is a rouble for all three of you. + </p> + <p> + THE COOK. Thank you, mistress; a pleasant journey to you. + </p> + <p> + JACOB. God bless you, mistress. + </p> + <p> + SHAMRAEFF. Send us a line to cheer us up. [TO TRIGORIN] Good-bye, sir. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. Where is Constantine? Tell him I am starting. I must say + good-bye to him. [To JACOB] I gave the cook a rouble for all three of + you. + </p> + <p> + All go out through the door on the right. The stage remains empty. + Sounds of farewell are heard. The maid comes running back to fetch the + basket of plums which has been forgotten. TRIGORIN comes back. + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. I had forgotten my cane. I think I left it on the terrace. [He + goes toward the door on the right and meets NINA, who comes in at that + moment] Is that you? We are off. + </p> + <p> + NINA. I knew we should meet again. [With emotion] I have come to an + irrevocable decision, the die is cast: I am going on the stage. I am + deserting my father and abandoning everything. I am beginning life anew. + I am going, as you are, to Moscow. We shall meet there. + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. [Glancing about him] Go to the Hotel Slavianski Bazar. Let me + know as soon as you get there. I shall be at the Grosholski House in + Moltchanofka Street. I must go now. [A pause.] + </p> + <p> + NINA. Just one more minute! + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. [In a low voice] You are so beautiful! What bliss to think + that I shall see you again so soon! [She sinks on his breast] I shall + see those glorious eyes again, that wonderful, ineffably tender smile, + those gentle features with their expression of angelic purity! My + darling! [A prolonged kiss.] + </p> + <p> + The curtain falls. + </p> + <p> + Two years elapse between the third and fourth acts. + </p> + </div> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ACT IV + </h2> + <p> + <i>A sitting-room in SORIN’S house, which has been converted into a + writing-room for TREPLIEFF. To the right and left are doors leading into + inner rooms, and in the centre is a glass door opening onto a terrace. + Besides the usual furniture of a sitting-room there is a writing-desk in + the right-hand corner of the room. There is a Turkish divan near the door + on the left, and shelves full of books stand against the walls. Books are + lying scattered about on the windowsills and chairs. It is evening. The + room is dimly lighted by a shaded lamp on a table. The wind moans in the + tree tops and whistles down the chimney. The watchman in the garden is + heard sounding his rattle. MEDVIEDENKO and MASHA come in</i>. + </p> + <div style="margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%;"> + <p> + MASHA. [Calling TREPLIEFF] Mr. Constantine, where are you? [Looking + about her] There is no one here. His old uncle is forever asking for + Constantine, and can’t live without him for an instant. + </p> + <p> + MEDVIEDENKO. He dreads being left alone. [Listening to the wind] This is + a wild night. We have had this storm for two days. + </p> + <p> + MASHA. [Turning up the lamp] The waves on the lake are enormous. + </p> + <p> + MEDVIEDENKO. It is very dark in the garden. Do you know, I think that + old theatre ought to be knocked down. It is still standing there, naked + and hideous as a skeleton, with the curtain flapping in the wind. I + thought I heard a voice weeping in it as I passed there last night. + </p> + <p> + MASHA. What an idea! [A pause.] + </p> + <p> + MEDVIEDENKO. Come home with me, Masha. + </p> + <p> + MASHA. [Shaking her head] I shall spend the night here. + </p> + <p> + MEDVIEDENKO. [Imploringly] Do come, Masha. The baby must be hungry. + </p> + <p> + MASHA. Nonsense, Matriona will feed it. [A pause.] + </p> + <p> + MEDVIEDENKO. It is a pity to leave him three nights without his mother. + </p> + <p> + MASHA. You are getting too tiresome. You used sometimes to talk of other + things besides home and the baby, home and the baby. That is all I ever + hear from you now. + </p> + <p> + MEDVIEDENKO. Come home, Masha. + </p> + <p> + MASHA. You can go home if you want to. + </p> + <p> + MEDVIEDENKO. Your father won’t give me a horse. + </p> + <p> + MASHA. Yes, he will; ask him. + </p> + <p> + MEDVIEDENKO. I think I shall. Are you coming home to-morrow? + </p> + <p> + MASHA. Yes, yes, to-morrow. + </p> + <p> + She takes snuff. TREPLIEFF and PAULINA come in. TREPLIEFF is carrying + some pillows and a blanket, and PAULINA is carrying sheets and pillow + cases. They lay them on the divan, and TREPLIEFF goes and sits down at + his desk. + </p> + <p> + MASHA. Who is that for, mother? + </p> + <p> + PAULINA. Mr. Sorin asked to sleep in Constantine’s room to-night. + </p> + <p> + MASHA. Let me make the bed. + </p> + <p> + She makes the bed. PAULINA goes up to the desk and looks at the + manuscripts lying on it. [A pause.] + </p> + <p> + MEDVIEDENKO. Well, I am going. Good-bye, Masha. [He kisses his wife’s + hand] Good-bye, mother. [He tries to kiss his mother-in-law’s hand.] + </p> + <p> + PAULINA. [Crossly] Be off, in God’s name! + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF shakes hands with him in silence, and MEDVIEDENKO goes out. + </p> + <p> + PAULINA. [Looking at the manuscripts] No one ever dreamed, Constantine, + that you would one day turn into a real author. The magazines pay you + well for your stories. [She strokes his hair.] You have grown handsome, + too. Dear, kind Constantine, be a little nicer to my Masha. + </p> + <p> + MASHA. [Still making the bed] Leave him alone, mother. + </p> + <p> + PAULINA. She is a sweet child. [A pause] A woman, Constantine, asks only + for kind looks. I know that from experience. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF gets up from his desk and goes out without a word. + </p> + <p> + MASHA. There now! You have vexed him. I told you not to bother him. + </p> + <p> + PAULINA. I am sorry for you, Masha. + </p> + <p> + MASHA. Much I need your pity! + </p> + <p> + PAULINA. My heart aches for you. I see how things are, and understand. + </p> + <p> + MASHA. You see what doesn’t exist. Hopeless love is only found in + novels. It is a trifle; all one has to do is to keep a tight rein on + oneself, and keep one’s head clear. Love must be plucked out the moment + it springs up in the heart. My husband has been promised a school in + another district, and when we have once left this place I shall forget + it all. I shall tear my passion out by the roots. [The notes of a + melancholy waltz are heard in the distance.] + </p> + <p> + PAULINA. Constantine is playing. That means he is sad. + </p> + <p> + MASHA silently waltzes a few turns to the music. + </p> + <p> + MASHA. The great thing, mother, is not to have him continually in sight. + If my Simon could only get his remove I should forget it all in a month + or two. It is a trifle. + </p> + <p> + DORN and MEDVIEDENKO come in through the door on the left, wheeling + SORIN in an arm-chair. + </p> + <p> + MEDVIEDENKO. I have six mouths to feed now, and flour is at seventy + kopecks. + </p> + <p> + DORN. A hard riddle to solve! + </p> + <p> + MEDVIEDENKO. It is easy for you to make light of it. You are rich enough + to scatter money to your chickens, if you wanted to. + </p> + <p> + DORN. You think I am rich? My friend, after practising for thirty years, + during which I could not call my soul my own for one minute of the night + or day, I succeeded at last in scraping together one thousand roubles, + all of which went, not long ago, in a trip which I took abroad. I + haven’t a penny. + </p> + <p> + MASHA. [To her husband] So you didn’t go home after all? + </p> + <p> + MEDVIEDENKO. [Apologetically] How can I go home when they won’t give me + a horse? + </p> + <p> + MASHA. [Under her breath, with bitter anger] Would I might never see + your face again! + </p> + <p> + SORIN in his chair is wheeled to the left-hand side of the room. + PAULINA, MASHA, and DORN sit down beside him. MEDVIEDENKO stands sadly + aside. + </p> + <p> + DORN. What a lot of changes you have made here! You have turned this + sitting-room into a library. + </p> + <p> + MASHA. Constantine likes to work in this room, because from it he can + step out into the garden to meditate whenever he feels like it. [The + watchman’s rattle is heard.] + </p> + <p> + SORIN. Where is my sister? + </p> + <p> + DORN. She has gone to the station to meet Trigorin. She will soon be + back. + </p> + <p> + SORIN. I must be dangerously ill if you had to send for my sister. [He + falls silent for a moment] A nice business this is! Here I am + dangerously ill, and you won’t even give me any medicine. + </p> + <p> + DORN. What shall I prescribe for you? Camomile tea? Soda? Quinine? + </p> + <p> + SORIN. Don’t inflict any of your discussions on me again. [He nods + toward the sofa] Is that bed for me? + </p> + <p> + PAULINA. Yes, for you, sir. + </p> + <p> + SORIN. Thank you. + </p> + <p> + DORN. [Sings] “The moon swims in the sky to-night.” + </p> + <p> + SORIN. I am going to give Constantine an idea for a story. It shall be + called “The Man Who Wished—L’Homme qui a voulu.” When I was young, + I wished to become an author; I failed. I wished to be an orator; I + speak abominably, [Exciting himself] with my eternal “and all, and all,” + dragging each sentence on and on until I sometimes break out into a + sweat all over. I wished to marry, and I didn’t; I wished to live in the + city, and here I am ending my days in the country, and all. + </p> + <p> + DORN. You wished to become State Councillor, and—you are one! + </p> + <p> + SORIN. [Laughing] I didn’t try for that, it came of its own accord. + </p> + <p> + DORN. Come, you must admit that it is petty to cavil at life at + sixty-two years of age. + </p> + <p> + SORIN. You are pig-headed! Can’t you see I want to live? + </p> + <p> + DORN. That is futile. Nature has commanded that every life shall come to + an end. + </p> + <p> + SORIN. You speak like a man who is satiated with life. Your thirst for + it is quenched, and so you are calm and indifferent, but even you dread + death. + </p> + <p> + DORN. The fear of death is an animal passion which must be overcome. + Only those who believe in a future life and tremble for sins committed, + can logically fear death; but you, for one thing, don’t believe in a + future life, and for another, you haven’t committed any sins. You have + served as a Councillor for twenty-five years, that is all. + </p> + <p> + SORIN. [Laughing] Twenty-eight years! + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF comes in and sits down on a stool at SORIN’S feet. MASHA fixes + her eyes on his face and never once tears them away. + </p> + <p> + DORN. We are keeping Constantine from his work. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. No matter. [A pause.] + </p> + <p> + MEDVIEDENKO. Of all the cities you visited when you were abroad, Doctor, + which one did you like the best? + </p> + <p> + DORN. Genoa. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. Why Genoa? + </p> + <p> + DORN. Because there is such a splendid crowd in its streets. When you + leave the hotel in the evening, and throw yourself into the heart of + that throng, and move with it without aim or object, swept along, hither + and thither, their life seems to be yours, their soul flows into you, + and you begin to believe at last in a great world spirit, like the one + in your play that Nina Zarietchnaya acted. By the way, where is Nina + now? Is she well? + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. I believe so. + </p> + <p> + DORN. I hear she has led rather a strange life; what happened? + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. It is a long story, Doctor. + </p> + <p> + DORN. Tell it shortly. [A pause.] + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. She ran away from home and joined Trigorin; you know that? + </p> + <p> + DORN. Yes. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. She had a child that died. Trigorin soon tired of her and + returned to his former ties, as might have been expected. He had never + broken them, indeed, but out of weakness of character had always + vacillated between the two. As far as I can make out from what I have + heard, Nina’s domestic life has not been altogether a success. + </p> + <p> + DORN. What about her acting? + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. I believe she made an even worse failure of that. She made + her debut on the stage of the Summer Theatre in Moscow, and afterward + made a tour of the country towns. At that time I never let her out of my + sight, and wherever she went I followed. She always attempted great and + difficult parts, but her delivery was harsh and monotonous, and her + gestures heavy and crude. She shrieked and died well at times, but those + were but moments. + </p> + <p> + DORN. Then she really has a talent for acting? + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. I never could make out. I believe she has. I saw her, but she + refused to see me, and her servant would never admit me to her rooms. I + appreciated her feelings, and did not insist upon a meeting. [A pause] + What more can I tell you? She sometimes writes to me now that I have + come home, such clever, sympathetic letters, full of warm feeling. She + never complains, but I can tell that she is profoundly unhappy; not a + line but speaks to me of an aching, breaking nerve. She has one strange + fancy; she always signs herself “The Sea-gull.” The miller in “Rusalka” + called himself “The Crow,” and so she repeats in all her letters that + she is a sea-gull. She is here now. + </p> + <p> + DORN. What do you mean by “here?” + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. In the village, at the inn. She has been there for five days. + I should have gone to see her, but Masha here went, and she refuses to + see any one. Some one told me she had been seen wandering in the fields + a mile from here yesterday evening. + </p> + <p> + MEDVIEDENKO. Yes, I saw her. She was walking away from here in the + direction of the village. I asked her why she had not been to see us. + She said she would come. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. But she won’t. [A pause] Her father and stepmother have + disowned her. They have even put watchmen all around their estate to + keep her away. [He goes with the doctor toward the desk] How easy it is, + Doctor, to be a philosopher on paper, and how difficult in real life! + </p> + <p> + SORIN. She was a beautiful girl. Even the State Councillor himself was + in love with her for a time. + </p> + <p> + DORN. You old Lovelace, you! + </p> + <p> + SHAMRAEFF’S laugh is heard. + </p> + <p> + PAULINA. They are coming back from the station. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. Yes, I hear my mother’s voice. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA and TRIGORIN come in, followed by SHAMRAEFF. + </p> + <p> + SHAMRAEFF. We all grow old and wither, my lady, while you alone, with + your light dress, your gay spirits, and your grace, keep the secret of + eternal youth. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. You are still trying to turn my head, you tiresome old man. + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. [To SORIN] How do you do, Peter? What, still ill? How silly of + you! [With evident pleasure, as he catches sight of MASHA] How are you, + Miss Masha? + </p> + <p> + MASHA. So you recognised me? [She shakes hands with him.] + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. Did you marry him? + </p> + <p> + MASHA. Long ago. + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. You are happy now? [He bows to DORN and MEDVIEDENKO, and then + goes hesitatingly toward TREPLIEFF] Your mother says you have forgotten + the past and are no longer angry with me. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF gives him his hand. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. [To her son] Here is a magazine that Boris has brought you + with your latest story in it. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. [To TRIGORIN, as he takes the magazine] Many thanks; you are + very kind. + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. Your admirers all send you their regards. Every one in Moscow + and St. Petersburg is interested in you, and all ply me with questions + about you. They ask me what you look like, how old you are, whether you + are fair or dark. For some reason they all think that you are no longer + young, and no one knows who you are, as you always write under an + assumed name. You are as great a mystery as the Man in the Iron Mask. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. Do you expect to be here long? + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. No, I must go back to Moscow to-morrow. I am finishing another + novel, and have promised something to a magazine besides. In fact, it is + the same old business. + </p> + <p> + During their conversation ARKADINA and PAULINA have put up a card-table + in the centre of the room; SHAMRAEFF lights the candles and arranges the + chairs, then fetches a box of lotto from the cupboard. + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. The weather has given me a rough welcome. The wind is + frightful. If it goes down by morning I shall go fishing in the lake, + and shall have a look at the garden and the spot—do you remember?—where + your play was given. I remember the piece very well, but should like to + see again where the scene was laid. + </p> + <p> + MASHA. [To her father] Father, do please let my husband have a horse. He + ought to go home. + </p> + <p> + SHAMRAEFF. [Angrily] A horse to go home with! [Sternly] You know the + horses have just been to the station. I can’t send them out again. + </p> + <p> + MASHA. But there are other horses. [Seeing that her father remains + silent] You are impossible! + </p> + <p> + MEDVIEDENKO. I shall go on foot, Masha. + </p> + <p> + PAULINA. [With a sigh] On foot in this weather? [She takes a seat at the + card-table] Shall we begin? + </p> + <p> + MEDVIEDENKO. It is only six miles. Good-bye. [He kisses his wife’s + hand;] Good-bye, mother. [His mother-in-law gives him her hand + unwillingly] I should not have troubled you all, but the baby—[He + bows to every one] Good-bye. [He goes out with an apologetic air.] + </p> + <p> + SHAMRAEFF. He will get there all right, he is not a major-general. + </p> + <p> + PAULINA. Come, let us begin. Don’t let us waste time, we shall soon be + called to supper. + </p> + <p> + SHAMRAEFF, MASHA, and DORN sit down at the card-table. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. [To TRIGORIN] When the long autumn evenings descend on us we + while away the time here by playing lotto. Look at this old set; we used + it when our mother played with us as children. Don’t you want to take a + hand in the game with us until supper time? [She and TRIGORIN sit down + at the table] It is a monotonous game, but it is all right when one gets + used to it. [She deals three cards to each of the players.] + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. [Looking through the pages of the magazine] He has read his + own story, and hasn’t even cut the pages of mine. + </p> + <p> + He lays the magazine on his desk and goes toward the door on the right, + stopping as he passes his mother to give her a kiss. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. Won’t you play, Constantine? + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. No, excuse me please, I don’t feel like it. I am going to + take a turn through the rooms. [He goes out.] + </p> + <p> + MASHA. Are you all ready? I shall begin: twenty-two. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. Here it is. + </p> + <p> + MASHA. Three. + </p> + <p> + DORN. Right. + </p> + <p> + MASHA. Have you put down three? Eight. Eighty-one. Ten. + </p> + <p> + SHAMRAEFF. Don’t go so fast. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. Could you believe it? I am still dazed by the reception they + gave me in Kharkoff. + </p> + <p> + MASHA. Thirty-four. [The notes of a melancholy waltz are heard.] + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. The students gave me an ovation; they sent me three baskets of + flowers, a wreath, and this thing here. + </p> + <p> + She unclasps a brooch from her breast and lays it on the table. + </p> + <p> + SHAMRAEFF. There is something worth while! + </p> + <p> + MASHA. Fifty. + </p> + <p> + DORN. Fifty, did you say? + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. I wore a perfectly magnificent dress; I am no fool when it + comes to clothes. + </p> + <p> + PAULINA. Constantine is playing again; the poor boy is sad. + </p> + <p> + SHAMRAEFF. He has been severely criticised in the papers. + </p> + <p> + MASHA. Seventy-seven. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. They want to attract attention to him. + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. He doesn’t seem able to make a success, he can’t somehow + strike the right note. There is an odd vagueness about his writings that + sometimes verges on delirium. He has never created a single living + character. + </p> + <p> + MASHA. Eleven. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. Are you bored, Peter? [A pause] He is asleep. + </p> + <p> + DORN. The Councillor is taking a nap. + </p> + <p> + MASHA. Seven. Ninety. + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. Do you think I should write if I lived in such a place as + this, on the shore of this lake? Never! I should overcome my passion, + and give my life up to the catching of fish. + </p> + <p> + MASHA. Twenty-eight. + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. And if I caught a perch or a bass, what bliss it would be! + </p> + <p> + DORN. I have great faith in Constantine. I know there is something in + him. He thinks in images; his stories are vivid and full of colour, and + always affect me deeply. It is only a pity that he has no definite + object in view. He creates impressions, and nothing more, and one cannot + go far on impressions alone. Are you glad, madam, that you have an + author for a son? + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. Just think, I have never read anything of his; I never have + time. + </p> + <p> + MASHA. Twenty-six. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF comes in quietly and sits down at his table. + </p> + <p> + SHAMRAEFF. [To TRIGORIN] We have something here that belongs to you, + sir. + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. What is it? + </p> + <p> + SHAMRAEFF. You told me to have the sea-gull stuffed that Mr. Constantine + killed some time ago. + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. Did I? [Thoughtfully] I don’t remember. + </p> + <p> + MASHA. Sixty-one. One. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF throws open the window and stands listening. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. How dark the night is! I wonder what makes me so restless. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. Shut the window, Constantine, there is a draught here. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF shuts the window. + </p> + <p> + MASHA. Ninety-eight. + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. See, my card is full. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. [Gaily] Bravo! Bravo! + </p> + <p> + SHAMRAEFF. Bravo! + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. Wherever he goes and whatever he does, that man always has + good luck. [She gets up] And now, come to supper. Our renowned guest did + not have any dinner to-day. We can continue our game later. [To her son] + Come, Constantine, leave your writing and come to supper. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. I don’t want anything to eat, mother; I am not hungry. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. As you please. [She wakes SORIN] Come to supper, Peter. [She + takes SHAMRAEFF’S arm] Let me tell you about my reception in Kharkoff. + </p> + <p> + PAULINA blows out the candles on the table, then she and DORN roll + SORIN’S chair out of the room, and all go out through the door on the + left, except TREPLIEFF, who is left alone. TREPLIEFF prepares to write. + He runs his eye over what he has already written. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. I have talked a great deal about new forms of art, but I feel + myself gradually slipping into the beaten track. [He reads] “The placard + cried it from the wall—a pale face in a frame of dusky hair”—cried—frame—that + is stupid. [He scratches out what he has written] I shall begin again + from the place where my hero is wakened by the noise of the rain, but + what follows must go. This description of a moonlight night is long and + stilted. Trigorin has worked out a process of his own, and descriptions + are easy for him. He writes that the neck of a broken bottle lying on + the bank glittered in the moonlight, and that the shadows lay black + under the mill-wheel. There you have a moonlight night before your eyes, + but I speak of the shimmering light, the twinkling stars, the distant + sounds of a piano melting into the still and scented air, and the result + is abominable. [A pause] The conviction is gradually forcing itself upon + me that good literature is not a question of forms new or old, but of + ideas that must pour freely from the author’s heart, without his + bothering his head about any forms whatsoever. [A knock is heard at the + window nearest the table] What was that? [He looks out of the window] I + can’t see anything. [He opens the glass door and looks out into the + garden] I heard some one run down the steps. [He calls] Who is there? + [He goes out, and is heard walking quickly along the terrace. In a few + minutes he comes back with NINA ZARIETCHNAYA] Oh, Nina, Nina! + </p> + <p> + NINA lays her head on TREPLIEFF’S breast and stifles her sobs. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. [Deeply moved] Nina, Nina! It is you—you! I felt you + would come; all day my heart has been aching for you. [He takes off her + hat and cloak] My darling, my beloved has come back to me! We mustn’t + cry, we mustn’t cry. + </p> + <p> + NINA. There is some one here. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. No one is here. + </p> + <p> + NINA. Lock the door, some one might come. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. No one will come in. + </p> + <p> + NINA. I know your mother is here. Lock the door. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF locks the door on the right and comes back to NINA. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. There is no lock on that one. I shall put a chair against it. + [He puts an arm-chair against the door] Don’t be frightened, no one + shall come in. + </p> + <p> + NINA. [Gazing intently into his face] Let me look at you. [She looks + about her] It is warm and comfortable in here. This used to be a + sitting-room. Have I changed much? + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. Yes, you have grown thinner, and your eyes are larger than + they were. Nina, it seems so strange to see you! Why didn’t you let me + go to you? Why didn’t you come sooner to me? You have been here nearly a + week, I know. I have been several times each day to where you live, and + have stood like a beggar beneath your window. + </p> + <p> + NINA. I was afraid you might hate me. I dream every night that you look + at me without recognising me. I have been wandering about on the shores + of the lake ever since I came back. I have often been near your house, + but I have never had the courage to come in. Let us sit down. [They sit + down] Let us sit down and talk our hearts out. It is so quiet and warm + in here. Do you hear the wind whistling outside? As Turgenieff says, + “Happy is he who can sit at night under the roof of his home, who has a + warm corner in which to take refuge.” I am a sea-gull—and yet—no. + [She passes her hand across her forehead] What was I saying? Oh, yes, + Turgenieff. He says, “and God help all houseless wanderers.” [She sobs.] + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. Nina! You are crying again, Nina! + </p> + <p> + NINA. It is all right. I shall feel better after this. I have not cried + for two years. I went into the garden last night to see if our old + theatre were still standing. I see it is. I wept there for the first + time in two years, and my heart grew lighter, and my soul saw more + clearly again. See, I am not crying now. [She takes his hand in hers] So + you are an author now, and I am an actress. We have both been sucked + into the whirlpool. My life used to be as happy as a child’s; I used to + wake singing in the morning; I loved you and dreamt of fame, and what is + the reality? To-morrow morning early I must start for Eltz by train in a + third-class carriage, with a lot of peasants, and at Eltz the educated + trades-people will pursue me with compliments. It is a rough life. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. Why are you going to Eltz? + </p> + <p> + NINA. I have accepted an engagement there for the winter. It is time for + me to go. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. Nina, I have cursed you, and hated you, and torn up your + photograph, and yet I have known every minute of my life that my heart + and soul were yours for ever. To cease from loving you is beyond my + power. I have suffered continually from the time I lost you and began to + write, and my life has been almost unendurable. My youth was suddenly + plucked from me then, and I seem now to have lived in this world for + ninety years. I have called out to you, I have kissed the ground you + walked on, wherever I looked I have seen your face before my eyes, and + the smile that had illumined for me the best years of my life. + </p> + <p> + NINA. [Despairingly] Why, why does he talk to me like this? + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. I am quite alone, unwarmed by any attachment. I am as cold as + if I were living in a cave. Whatever I write is dry and gloomy and + harsh. Stay here, Nina, I beseech you, or else let me go away with you. + </p> + <p> + NINA quickly puts on her coat and hat. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. Nina, why do you do that? For God’s sake, Nina! [He watches + her as she dresses. A pause.] + </p> + <p> + NINA. My carriage is at the gate. Do not come out to see me off. I shall + find the way alone. [Weeping] Let me have some water. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF hands her a glass of water. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. Where are you going? + </p> + <p> + NINA. Back to the village. Is your mother here? + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. Yes, my uncle fell ill on Thursday, and we telegraphed for + her to come. + </p> + <p> + NINA. Why do you say that you have kissed the ground I walked on? You + should kill me rather. [She bends over the table] I am so tired. If I + could only rest—rest. [She raises her head] I am a sea-gull—no—no, + I am an actress. [She hears ARKADINA and TRIGORIN laughing in the + distance, runs to the door on the left and looks through the keyhole] He + is there too. [She goes back to TREPLIEFF] Ah, well—no matter. He + does not believe in the theatre; he used to laugh at my dreams, so that + little by little I became down-hearted and ceased to believe in it too. + Then came all the cares of love, the continual anxiety about my little + one, so that I soon grew trivial and spiritless, and played my parts + without meaning. I never knew what to do with my hands, and I could not + walk properly or control my voice. You cannot imagine the state of mind + of one who knows as he goes through a play how terribly badly he is + acting. I am a sea-gull—no—no, that is not what I meant to + say. Do you remember how you shot a seagull once? A man chanced to pass + that way and destroyed it out of idleness. That is an idea for a short + story, but it is not what I meant to say. [She passes her hand across + her forehead] What was I saying? Oh, yes, the stage. I have changed now. + Now I am a real actress. I act with joy, with exaltation, I am + intoxicated by it, and feel that I am superb. I have been walking and + walking, and thinking and thinking, ever since I have been here, and I + feel the strength of my spirit growing in me every day. I know now, I + understand at last, Constantine, that for us, whether we write or act, + it is not the honour and glory of which I have dreamt that is important, + it is the strength to endure. One must know how to bear one’s cross, and + one must have faith. I believe, and so do not suffer so much, and when I + think of my calling I do not fear life. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. [Sadly] You have found your way, you know where you are + going, but I am still groping in a chaos of phantoms and dreams, not + knowing whom and what end I am serving by it all. I do not believe in + anything, and I do not know what my calling is. + </p> + <p> + NINA. [Listening] Hush! I must go. Good-bye. When I have become a famous + actress you must come and see me. Will you promise to come? But now—[She + takes his hand] it is late. I can hardly stand. I am fainting. I am + hungry. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. Stay, and let me bring you some supper. + </p> + <p> + NINA. No, no—and don’t come out, I can find the way alone. My + carriage is not far away. So she brought him back with her? However, + what difference can that make to me? Don’t tell Trigorin anything when + you see him. I love him—I love him even more than I used to. It is + an idea for a short story. I love him—I love him passionately—I + love him to despair. Have you forgotten, Constantine, how pleasant the + old times were? What a gay, bright, gentle, pure life we led? How a + feeling as sweet and tender as a flower blossomed in our hearts? Do you + remember, [She recites] “All men and beasts, lions, eagles, and quails, + horned stags, geese, spiders, silent fish that inhabit the waves, + starfish from the sea, and creatures invisible to the eye—in one + word, life—all, all life, completing the dreary round set before + it, has died out at last. A thousand years have passed since the earth + last bore a living creature on its breast, and the unhappy moon now + lights her lamp in vain. No longer are the cries of storks heard in the + meadows, or the drone of beetles in the groves of limes——” + </p> + <p> + She embraces TREPLIEFF impetuously and runs out onto the terrace. + </p> + <p> + TREPLIEFF. [After a pause] It would be a pity if she were seen in the + garden. My mother would be distressed. + </p> + <p> + He stands for several minutes tearing up his manuscripts and throwing + them under the table, then unlocks the door on the right and goes out. + </p> + <p> + DORN. [Trying to force open the door on the left] Odd! This door seems + to be locked. [He comes in and puts the chair back in its former place] + This is like a hurdle race. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA and PAULINA come in, followed by JACOB carrying some bottles; + then come MASHA, SHAMRAEFF, and TRIGORIN. + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. Put the claret and the beer here, on the table, so that we can + drink while we are playing. Sit down, friends. + </p> + <p> + PAULINA. And bring the tea at once. + </p> + <p> + She lights the candles and takes her seat at the card-table. SHAMRAEFF + leads TRIGORIN to the cupboard. + </p> + <p> + SHAMRAEFF. Here is the stuffed sea-gull I was telling you about. [He + takes the sea-gull out of the cupboard] You told me to have it done. + </p> + <p> + TRIGORIN. [looking at the bird] I don’t remember a thing about it, not a + thing. [A shot is heard. Every one jumps.] + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. [Frightened] What was that? + </p> + <p> + DORN. Nothing at all; probably one of my medicine bottles has blown up. + Don’t worry. [He goes out through the door on the right, and comes back + in a few moments] It is as I thought, a flask of ether has exploded. [He + sings] + </p> + <p> + “Spellbound once more I stand before thee.” + </p> + <p> + ARKADINA. [Sitting down at the table] Heavens! I was really frightened. + That noise reminded me of—[She covers her face with her hands] + Everything is black before my eyes. + </p> + <p> + DORN. [Looking through the pages of a magazine, to TRIGORIN] There was + an article from America in this magazine about two months ago that I + wanted to ask you about, among other things. [He leads TRIGORIN to the + front of the stage] I am very much interested in this question. [He + lowers his voice and whispers] You must take Madame Arkadina away from + here; what I wanted to say was, that Constantine has shot himself. + </p> + <p> + The curtain falls. + </p> + </div> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Sea-Gull, by Anton Checkov + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SEA-GULL *** + +***** This file should be named 1754-h.htm or 1754-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/5/1754/ + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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