Ivanov

Shabelsky(snorts with laughter) To the Crimea! . . . We should all be doctors! It’s so simple – Madame’s got a tickle in her throat, or coughing for something to do, so grab a sheet of paper and prescribe as follows: take one young doctor, followed by one trip to the Crimea, and in the Crimea, one good-looking Tartar to put the colour in her cheeks . . .

Ivanov(to Shabelsky) Would you stop blathering on! (To Lvov.) To go to the Crimea requires money, and even supposing I find it, she won’t hear of it.

LvovI know.

BorkinI say, Doctor, is Anna Petrovna really as ill as all that? – Crimea and everything?

Lvov(glancing round at the window) Yes, it’s tuberculosis.

BorkinOof! . . . Not good . . . I could see in her face for a while now she’s not long for this world.

LvovPlease keep your voice down – you can be heard indoors.

Borkin(sighing) Life . . .! Life is like a flower in a field – we just have time to come into bloom, then along comes a goat and goodbye flower.

ShabelskyIt’s all nonsense and nothing but nonsense! . . . (Yawns.) Nonsense and humbug . . .

Pause.

BorkinI’ve been telling Nikolay Alekseevich how to make some money. I gave him a wonderful idea, but as ever the powder flashed in the pan. You can’t shift him . . . Look at him – a picture of misery . . . apathetic, worried sick.

Shabelsky(stands up and stretches) You have a fat-headed genius for scheming and telling everybody how to change their lives – but you’ve never once taught me anything –

go on, show me how, if you’re so clever – show me the way.

Borkin(moving off) I’m going for a swim . . . Au revoir, gents – I could teach you twenty ways –

Shabelsky(following him) Go on then, show me.

BorkinNothing to it. In your shoes I’d have twenty thousand in a week. (Comes back.) Nikolay Alekseevich, can you give me a rouble?

Ivanov silently hands him the money.

Merci! (To Shabelsky.)

You’ve got all the cards in your hand.

Shabelsky(following him) So, what are they?

BorkinIn your place I’d have thirty thousand in a week.

Shabelsky follows Borkin out.

Ivanov(aside) Useless people, useless talk, stupid questions . . . I’m ill with it. I’ve become crotchety, bad-tempered, rude to everyone . . . small-minded . . . I don’t know myself any more. My headaches last for days, I can’t sleep, there’s a buzzing in my ears, and there’s nowhere, absolutely nowhere, I can get away from everything.

LvovI need to have a serious talk with you.

Ivanov(continuing) Nowhere.

LvovAbout your wife. She won’t agree to the Crimea but she’d go if you went with her.

Ivanov turns to Lvov.

IvanovThe cost of both of us going . . . Anyway I can’t get away. I’ve already taken time off this year.

Lvov

All right, say you can’t. Next point. The best medicine for TB is complete rest, and your wife doesn’t get a moment’s peace. She’s constantly upset by the way you treat her. Forgive me – I’m upset myself and I have to speak plainly. Your behaviour is killing her. Nikolay Alekseevich – please help me to think better of you.

IvanovIt’s true. It’s all true. I’m terribly to blame no doubt, but my mind is so confused, I’m sick to my soul with a sort of lassitude, I haven’t the energy to make sense of anything. (Glances at the window.) Let’s move off, go for a stroll . . . I wish I could tell you everything from the very beginning but I’d need all night.

They start to move off.

Anna was – is – a rare, remarkable woman. She changed her faith for me, her name – abandoned home and family, gave up her fortune . . . and if I’d asked her for a hundred other sacrifices she’d have made them without a second’s thought. Not like me. I haven’t sacrificed a thing, and there’s nothing remarkable about me. Well, anyway . . . (Ponders.) Well, briefly, I married her because I was madly in love, I swore I would love her for ever, but . . . five years went by, she still loves me but I . . . (Spreads hands in a gesture of helplessness.) And here you are telling me she’ll soon be dead, and I feel no love or pity but only a kind of hollowness. To you it must look awful – I don’t understand what’s happening to me myself . . .

They walk away into the garden.

Shabelsky enters, laughing heartily.