Anton Chekhov: Plays, Short Stories, Diary & Letters (Collected Edition). Anton Chekhov

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СКАЧАТЬ [Laughing loudly, to IVANOFF] Didn’t I tell you so? [To LEBEDIEFF] I bet him driving over, that as soon as we arrived Zuzu would want to feed us with jam!

      ZINAIDA. Still joking, Count! [She sits down.]

      LEBEDIEFF. She made twenty jars of it this year, and how else do you expect her to get rid of it?

      SHABELSKI. [Sits down near the table] Are you still adding to the hoard, Zuzu? You will soon have a million, eh?

      ZINAIDA. [Sighing] I know it seems as if no one could be richer than we, but where do they think the money comes from? It is all gossip.

      SHABELSKI. Oh, yes, we all know that! We know how badly you play your cards! Tell me, Paul, honestly, have you saved up a million yet?

      LEBEDIEFF. I don’t know. Ask Zuzu.

      SHABELSKI. [To MARTHA] And my plump little Birdie here will soon have a million too! She is getting prettier and plumper not only every day, but every hour. That means she has a nice little fortune.

      MARTHA. Thank you very much, your highness, but I don’t like such jokes.

      SHABELSKI. My dear little gold mine, do you call that a joke? It was a wail of the soul, a cry from the heart, that burst through my lips. My love for you and Zuzu is immense. [Gaily] Oh, rapture! Oh, bliss! I cannot look at you two without a madly beating heart!

      ZINAIDA. You are still the same, Count. [To GEORGE] Put out the candles please, George. [GEORGE gives a start. He puts out the candles and sits down again] How is your wife, Nicholas?

      IVANOFF. She is very ill. The doctor said to-day that she certainly had consumption.

      ZINAIDA. Really? Oh, how sad! [She sighs] And we are all so fond of her!

      SHABELSKI. What trash you all talk! That story was invented by that sham doctor, and is nothing but a trick of his. He wants to masquerade as an Aesculapius, and so has started this consumption theory. Fortunately her husband isn’t jealous. [IVANOFF makes an inpatient gesture] As for Sarah, I wouldn’t trust a word or an action of hers. I have made a point all my life of mistrusting all doctors, lawyers, and women. They are shammers and deceivers.

      LEBEDIEFF. [To SHABELSKI] You are an extraordinary person, Matthew! You have mounted this misanthropic hobby of yours, and you ride it through thick and thin like a lunatic You are a man like any other, and yet, from the way you talk one would imagine that you had the pip, or a cold in the head.

      SHABELSKI. Would you have me go about kissing every rascal and scoundrel I meet?

      LEBEDIEFF. Where do you find all these rascals and scoundrels?

      SHABELSKI. Of course I am not talking of any one here present, nevertheless —— -

      LEBEDIEFF. There you are again with your “nevertheless.” All this is simply a fancy of yours.

      SHABELSKI. A fancy? It is lucky for you that you have no knowledge of the world!

      LEBEDIEFF. My knowledge of the world is this: I must sit here prepared at any moment to have death come knocking at the door. That is my knowledge of the world. At our age, brother, you and I can’t afford to worry about knowledge of the world. So then — [He calls] Oh, Gabriel!

      SHABELSKI. You have had quite enough already. Look at your nose.

      LEBEDIEFF. No matter, old boy. I am not going to be married to-day.

      ZINAIDA. Doctor Lvoff has not been here for a long time. He seems to have forgotten us.

      SASHA. That man is one of my aversions. I can’t stand his icy sense of honour. He can’t ask for a glass of water or smoke a cigarette without making a display of his remarkable honesty. Walking and talking, it is written on his brow: “I am an honest man.” He is a great bore.

      SHABELSKI. He is a narrow-minded, conceited medico. [Angrily] He shrieks like a parrot at every step: “Make way for honest endeavour!” and thinks himself another St. Francis. Everybody is a rascal who doesn’t make as much noise as he does. As for his penetration, it is simply remarkable! If a peasant is well off and lives decently, he sees at once that he must be a thief and a scoundrel. If I wear a velvet coat and am dressed by my valet, I am a rascal and the valet is my slave. There is no place in this world for a man like him. I am actually afraid of him. Yes, indeed, he is likely, out of a sense of duty, to insult a man at any moment and to call him a knave.

      IVANOFF. I am dreadfully tired of him, but I can’t help liking him, too, he is so sincere.

      SHABELSKI. Oh, yes, his sincerity is beautiful! He came up to me yesterday evening and remarked absolutely apropos of nothing: “Count, I have a deep aversion to you!” It isn’t as if he said such things simply, but they are extremely pointed. His voice trembles, his eyes flash, his veins swell. Confound his infernal honesty! Supposing I am disgusting and odious to him? What is more natural? I know that I am, but I don’t like to be told so to my face. I am a worthless old man, but he might have the decency to respect my grey hairs. Oh, what stupid, heartless honesty!

      LEBEDIEFF. Come, come, you have been young yourself, and should make allowances for him.

      SHABELSKI. Yes, I have been young and reckless; I have played the fool in my day and have seen plenty of knaves and scamps, but I have never called a thief a thief to his face, or talked of ropes in the house of a man who had been hung. I knew how to behave, but this idiotic doctor of yours would think himself in the seventh heaven of happiness if fate would allow him to pull my nose in public in the name of morality and human ideals.

      LEBEDIEFF. Young men are all stubborn and restive. I had an uncle once who thought himself a philosopher. He would fill his house with guests, and after he had had a drink he would get up on a chair, like this, and begin: “You ignoramuses! You powers of darkness! This is the dawn of a new life!” And so on and so on; he would preach and preach ——

      SASHA. And the guests?

      LEBEDIEFF. They would just sit and listen and go on drinking. Once, though, I challenged him to a duel, challenged my own uncle! It came out of a discussion about Sir Francis Bacon. I was sitting, I remember, where Matthew is, and my uncle and the late Gerasim Nilitch were standing over there, about where Nicholas is now. Well, Gerasim Nilitch propounded this question ——

      Enter BORKIN. He is dressed like a dandy and carries a parcel under his arm. He comes in singing and skipping through the door on the right. A murmur of approval is heard.

      THE GIRLS. Oh, Michael Borkin!

      LEBEDIEFF. Hallo, Misha!

      SHABELSKI. The soul of the company!

      BORKIN. Here we are! [He runs up to SASHA] Most noble Signorina, let me be so bold as to wish to the whole world many happy returns of the birthday of such an exquisite flower as you! As a token of my enthusiasm let me presume to present you with these fireworks and this Bengal fire of my own manufacture. [He hands her the parcel] May they illuminate the night as brightly as you illuminate the shadows of this dark world. [He spreads them out theatrically before her.]

      SASHA. Thank you.

      LEBEDIEFF. [Laughing loudly, to IVANOFF] Why don’t you send this Judas packing?

      BORKIN. [To LEBEDIEFF] My compliments СКАЧАТЬ