The Chekhov Collection: Novellas, Short Stories, Plays, Letters & Diary. Anton Chekhov. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Anton Chekhov
Издательство: Bookwire
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Жанр произведения: Языкознание
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9788027201440
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sits down and begins to cry softly.

      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.

      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.

      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.

      TREPLIEFF. [Kissing her hand] Yes, mother.

      ARKADINA. [Tenderly] Make your peace with him, too. Don’t fight with him. You surely won’t fight?

      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.

      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.”

      TREPLIEFF picks up the bandage off the floor and goes out.

      ARKADINA. [Looking at her watch] The carriage will soon be here.

      TRIGORIN. [To himself] If at any time you should have need of my life, come and take it.

      ARKADINA. I hope your things are all packed.

      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!

      ARKADINA shakes her head.

      TRIGORIN. Do let us stay!

      ARKADINA. I know, dearest, what keeps you here, but you must control yourself. Be sober; your emotions have intoxicated you a little.

      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!

      ARKADINA. [In deep excitement] Are you so much in love?

      TRIGORIN. I am irresistibly impelled toward her. It may be that this is just what I need.

      ARKADINA. What, the love of a country girl? Oh, how little you know yourself!

      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!

      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.

      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?

      ARKADINA. [With anger] You are mad!

      TRIGORIN. Release me.

      ARKADINA. You have all conspired together to torture me to-day. [She weeps.]

      TRIGORIN. [Clutching his head desperately] She doesn’t understand me! She won’t understand me!

      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!

      TRIGORIN. Some one might come in. [He helps her to rise.]

      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?

      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.

      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?

      TRIGORIN. Let us go together.

      ARKADINA. As you like. Let us go together then. [A pause. TRIGORIN writes something in his notebook] What are you writing?

      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!

      SHAMRAEFF comes in.

      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!

      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.

      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.

      ARKADINA. You are very kind, Paulina.

      PAULINA. Goodbye, my dearie. If things have not been quite as you could have wished, please forgive us. [She weeps.]

      ARKADINA. It has been delightful, delightful. You mustn’t cry.

      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.

      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.]

      MEDVIEDENKO. I shall walk quickly to the station and see you off there. [He goes out.]

      ARKADINA. Goodbye, 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.

      THE COOK. Thank you, mistress; a pleasant journey to you.

      JACOB. God bless you, mistress.

      SHAMRAEFF. Send