Lyubov Andreevna lived abroad for five years, I don’t know what she’s become now... She’s a good person. An easy, simple person. I remember when I was a boy of about fifteen, my late father - he was selling in a shop here in the village - hit me in the face with his fist, blood came out of my nose... Then we came together to the yard for some reason, and he was drunk. Lyubov Andreevna, as I remember now, still young, so thin, led me to the washstand, in this very room, in the nursery. “Don’t cry, he says, little man, he’ll heal before the wedding...”

A peasant... My father, it’s true, was a peasant, but here I am in a white vest and yellow shoes. With a pig's snout in a row of Kalash... Just now he's rich, a lot of money, but if you think about it and figure it out, then the man is a man... (Flips through the book.) I read the book and didn’t understand anything. I read and fell asleep.

You can hear two carriages approaching the house. Lopakhin and Dunyasha quickly leave. The stage is empty. There is noise in the neighboring rooms. Firs, who had gone to meet Lyubov Andreevna, hurriedly passes across the stage, leaning on a stick; he is in an old livery and a tall hat; He says something to himself, but not a single word can be understood. The noise behind the stage is getting louder and louder. Voice: “Let’s go here...” Lyubov Andreevna, Anya and Charlotte Ivanovna with a dog on a chain, dressed for travel. Varya in a coat and scarf, Gaev, Simeonov-Pishchik, Lopakhin, Dunyasha with a bundle and an umbrella, a servant with things - everyone is walking across the room.

She looked back at him.

I will just bow to you and leave immediately. (Kisses his hand warmly.) I was ordered to wait until the morning, but I didn’t have enough patience...

If a lot of remedies are offered against a disease, this means that the disease is incurable. I think, I’m racking my brains, I have a lot of money, a lot, and that means, in essence, none. It would be nice to receive an inheritance from someone, it would be nice to marry our Anya to a very rich man, it would be nice to go to Yaroslavl and try his luck with the aunt countess. My aunt is very, very rich.

Anya appears at the door.

She married a non-nobleman and behaved in a manner that cannot be said to be very virtuous. She is good, kind, nice, I love her very much, but no matter how you come up with mitigating circumstances, I still have to admit that she is vicious. This is felt in her slightest movement.

Surprisingly, something got into my right eye... I couldn’t see well. And on Thursday, when I was in district court...

Why am I talking about dachas? Well, first of all, it’s summer and hot. Secondly, I came across a nice “dacha” exhibition in Melikhovo.

Lopakhin. Your estate is located only twenty miles from the city, there is a railroad nearby, and if the cherry orchard and the land along the river are divided into dacha plots and then rented out as dachas, then you will have at least twenty-five thousand a year in income.

Gaev. Sorry, what nonsense! (…)

Lyubov Andreevna. Dachas and summer residents - it’s so vulgar, sorry.

Melikhovo - Chekhov's museum-estate. So you involuntarily remember “ The Cherry Orchard" The play was written in 1903, by which time the “dacha” culture had already spread in breadth.

How did it begin? The word itself is clear in etymology - it comes from the verb “to give”. And at first it was simply about land or forest plots granted by the prince or tsar (there was a lot of land in Rus', there was little money in the treasury - this was the way to reward worthy confidants).

The concept of a suburban - or rather, even suburban - small estate appeared in the era of Peter the Great. The Tsar began to distribute lands under the newly built St. Petersburg senior officials- as it was stated, so that they would not travel to distant estates for the summer, but would remain on hand with the monarch just in case.

However, the meaning of the term continued to be modified - and already in the 1820s we see “Her Imperial Majesty’s own dacha Alexandria.” And here, of course, we mean simply a country ensemble, something like a European villa.

But before those dachas I spoke about Chekhov's character, it was still far away. The changes brought with them two things: the peasant reform of Alexander II (which, having given rise to many economic transformations, at the same time destroyed the very principle of the noble estate as large complex primarily agricultural land) and the railway.

The latter is important. After all, wealthy townspeople existed before - and some even acquired or built small estates for summer vacations (Chekhov's Melikhovo itself, after all, was one of these). But before the advent of railway communication, going to your summer residence meant equipping a large - and slowly crawling - convoy and setting off for several months at once.

Dacha second half of the 19th century century - in a certain sense, a reproduction of an estate, an estate, but in miniature. Not just deprived of land and not connected with agriculture, but also not requiring large quantity servants. And also not too far from the city - unlike the owners of traditional estates, who only did as much as twice a year long haul from village to city and back, “dacha residents” were tied to the city by service or professional activity. The slow crawling estate train was not suitable for such people. And, as a rule, the townspeople no longer kept their own horses. And with the advent of the train, the issue was resolved.

Of course, some dachas were built “for themselves” - as a rule, according to an individual project and often even with the involvement of serious architects. But more often, entire holiday villages were built for rent. And so they begin to appear precisely around railway stations - so that the father of the family (whose vacation was, as a rule, the shortest of the summer period) could go to the city for work in the morning and return in the evening.

Judging by the announcements of that time, it was still not about 30 square meters, prescribed as the limit for the area of ​​a house for the Soviet owner of six hundred square meters, but about more impressive buildings, designed for both the largest family and servants.

In general, let's quote Chekhov's play again:

Lopakhin. Until now, there were only gentlemen and peasants in the village, but now there are also summer residents.

And with the summer residents, a special country style appeared. These were, indeed, no longer the same “gentlemen” who spent a lot of time supervising agricultural work. The summer resident was resting - the adults were from work or from the city social life, children from gymnasium science. And everyone drank tea together on the veranda (and also made jam during the peak season, and cooking jam under the trees in a copper basin is generally a separate, specifically dacha ritual).

Along with traditional (including for urban leisure) board games, sports games also appeared. Among which, the now forgotten (and in some places with difficulty, but stubbornly being revived) croquet stood out.

Other types of country leisure, one would think, are familiar to everyone - walks, picnics, mushrooms, fishing, swimming, boats... For this reason, holiday villages quickly acquired a kind of leisure infrastructure.

And summer theaters were springing up everywhere. Somewhere they are quite thoroughly built, suitable for inviting professional singers and actors. Somewhere adapted from a barn or barn - for amateur performances.

How important the dacha theme became at the turn of the 19th and 20th centuries is evidenced by the numerous printed publications dedicated only to it. With advice like “when to go to the dacha” and “how rational baths should be arranged.” And also with numerous caricatures and humorous stories(and to be honest, not only Teffi or Averchenko, but also Anton Pavlovich himself managed to pay tribute to the dacha theme in this context).

Well, as you know, there have always been problems with country roads - and this is also an eternal Russian story.

Well, it’s funny that in Chekhov’s play you can read something like a prediction - only it concerns the “dachas” of the second half of the twentieth century.

Lopakhin. All cities, even the smallest ones, are now surrounded by dachas. And we can say that in twenty years the summer resident will multiply to an extraordinary extent. Now he only drinks tea on the balcony, but it may happen that on his one tithe he will start farming.

Well, this time I ended up in the Chekhov estate itself on the occasion of another theatrical premiere at the Melikhovo Theater. What anyone can read about.

Alexander Minkin

Tender soul

The purpose of the theater at all times has been and will be:

hold a mirror up to nature,

show her valor true face

and its truth is baseness,

and every century of history -

his unvarnished appearance.

Shakespeare. Hamlet

OPHELIA. It's short, my prince.

HAMLET. Like a woman's love.

Shakespeare. Hamlet

What was the first thing Papa Carlo bought for his wooden son? More precisely: not the first, but the only one (for Papa Carlo did not buy Pinocchio anything else). A book!

The poor old fool sold his only jacket for this gift. He acted like a Man. Because a person became a real person only when the book became most important.

Why did Pinocchio sell his only book? Just to go to the theater once.

Stick your curious nose into a dusty piece of old canvas, into a dusty old play - a stunningly interesting world opens up there... Theatre.

“The purpose of theater at all times” – but who says that? An actor in London four hundred years ago or Hamlet in Elsinore twelve hundred years ago?

And how does he want to show Claudius (a high-ranking lowlife) his true face? What kind of mirror does he put under his nose? Hecuba! - Aeschylus, Sophocles, Euripides...

This is the goal of classical education, which included (until 1917) Latin and Greek. Dead languages ​​carried living culture.

Shakespeare (through the mouth of Hamlet) says: “The purpose of the theater is to show the age its unvarnished appearance, its real face.”

Show the century? – What if the age doesn’t understand? What if you are blind? What if he looks, but doesn’t understand that he sees himself? They won't listen! they see - but don’t know! Covered with bribes of tow(Derzhavin).

Show baseness its true colors? But baseness refuses to recognize itself. Moreover, in ceremonial portraits she is depicted as the Greatest Valor.

...And every century of history - his unvarnished appearance. When we stage Hamlet, we must, therefore, show the 21st century, and not the 17th century (Shakespeare’s) and not the 9th century (Hamlet’s). The theater is not a museum; costumes are not important. Boyars in fur coats? No, they are in armored Mercedes. And Hamlet shows Claudius his an unvarnished appearance, not Hecuba and not Baptista. He uses ancient texts like an X-ray machine, like a laser - it burns right through.

And X-rays already existed then (and always).

KING. I wish you nothing but the best. You wouldn't doubt it if you saw our thoughts.

HAMLET. I see a cherub who sees them.

Tom Sawyer does not teach the Bible for the sake of Faith (he believes in dead cat, in ghosts). This provincial boy in wild slaveholding America thinks in terms of chivalric times. He has stories of dukes and kings on his lips...

Benvenuto Cellini, Henry of Navarre, Duke of Northumberland, Guilford Dudley, Louis XVI, Casanova, Robin Hood, Captain Kidd - ask the twelve-year-old boy next door: which of them does he know (and not only by name, but life events, exploits, famous phrases). And Tom Sawyer, in his historical and geographical wilderness, knows them all: some are examples to follow, others are objects of contempt. But they are all guidelines.

People don't always need to understand each other mutual language. Yum-yum - clear without translation. What about emotional experiences? A painful choice: what to do? The basis for understanding is a common book, common heroes.

Huck understands Tom as they discuss what to eat and where to run. But the liberation of the Negro Jim... Tom uses the experience of dukes and kings, but Ge doesn’t understand what’s happening and why complicate things.

Tom, having read a lot of nonsense, what are you doing? He frees a slave, a black man. Moreover, in a country where it was considered a shame, not a feat. Tom is aware of his crime, but does it. What is pushing him?

Of course, Tom Sawyer plays. But what he plays - that’s what’s infinitely important. Free the prisoner!

The moral law is within us, not outside. Book concepts about honor and nobility (concepts read, learned from books) were stronger and more important for Tom than those among whom he grew up. He acts like Don Quixote, endlessly complicates the simplest situations, trying himself on great models, obeying not profit or customs, but the movements of the soul. Crazy. Nearby (on the bookshelf) is another madman. Hamlet tries on Hecuba, who died thousands of years ago. Here is the connection of times: Hecuba (1200 BC) - Hamlet (9th century) - Shakespeare (1600) - and we, holding our breath in the 21st century - thirty-three centuries!

For understanding, general concepts are needed - that is, general book. People die, but she remains. She is a carrier of concepts.

The Bible worked. But now many people do not have a common book. What is it today? Pushkin? In Russia, it exists only as a name, as a school name “there is a green oak near the Lukomorye” - that is, as eniki-beniki.

To understand, you need not just a common (formally) language, but also the same understanding of common words.

These notes (including those on power, theater and time) stand, as if on the foundation, on the texts of Pushkin, Shakespeare... And there is hope that the reader knows these texts (that is, the fate of the heroes), and the fate of the authors, and the fate of the texts , and why the Politburo was written with a big one, and God - with a small one.

We are lost, what should we do?

The demon leads us into the field, apparently

And it circles around...

...Even if not the foundation, but the texts of the great ones stick out like landmarks - from the snow, from the swamp, into the darkness, into the storm, into the fog - and guide you.

Why a stupid book about old plays that everyone knows, about performances that don’t exist?

Why four hundred s extra years in Australia, Germany, Russia, France, Japan (this is in alphabetical order) they stage Hamlet? An old English play about a prince, who for some reason was also Danish. Why has the whole world been staging “The Cherry Orchard” for more than a hundred years?

We look at old plays like in a mirror - we see ourselves and our age.

Tender soul

Dedicated to two geniuses of the Russian theater

In memory of Anatoly Efros, who staged The Cherry Orchard at Taganka in 1975

In memory of Vladimir Vysotsky, who played Lopakhin

FIRS. They knew the way back then.

RANEVSKAYA. Where is this method now?

FIRS. Forgot. Nobody remembers.

Chekhov. The Cherry Orchard

Characters

RANEVSKAYA LYUBOV ANDREEVNA, landowner.

ANYA, her daughter, 17 years old.

VARYA, her adopted daughter, 24 years old.

GAEV LEONID ANDREEVICH, brother of Ranevskaya.

LOPAKHIN ERMOLAY ALEXEEVICH, merchant.

TROFIMOV PETER SERGEEVICH, student.

SIMEONOV-PISHCHIK BORIS BORISOVICH, landowner.

CHARLOTTE IVANOVNA, governess.

EPIKHODOV SEMEN PANTELEEVICH, clerk.

DUNYASHA, maid.

FIRS, footman, old man 87 years old.

YASHA, young footman.

Size matters

“The Cherry Orchard” is an old play, more than a hundred years old. And no one knows what it’s about.

Some remember that the estate of the noblewoman Ranevskaya is being sold for debts, and the merchant Lopakhin teaches how to get out - you need to cut the land into plots and rent them out for dachas.

How big is the estate? I ask my friends, I ask the actors playing “The Cherry Orchard” and the directors who staged the play. There is only one answer: “I don’t know.”

- It’s clear that you don’t know. But guess what.

The person asked grunts, hums, then hesitantly:

– Two hectares, perhaps?

- No. Ranevskaya's estate is more than one thousand one hundred hectares.

- Can't be! Where did you get this from?

- It's written in the play.

LOPAKHIN. If the cherry orchard and the land along the river are divided into dacha plots and then rented out as dachas, then you will have at least twenty-five thousand a year in income. You will take from summer residents the least twenty-five rubles a year per tithe. I guarantee you anything, you won’t have a single free scrap left until the fall, everything will be taken apart.

This means a thousand dessiatines. And a tithe is 1.1 hectares.

In addition to the garden and “land along the river,” they also have hundreds of acres of forest.

It would seem that what a problem if the directors are mistaken a thousand times. But this is not just arithmetic. There is a transition from quantity to quality.

It's such a vast space that you can't see the edge. More precisely: everything you see around you is yours. Everything is up to the horizon.

If you have a thousand hectares, you see Russia. If you have several acres, you see a fence.

A poor man sees a fence five meters from his shack. The rich man is a hundred meters from his mansion. From the second floor of his mansion, he sees many fences.

Director R., who not only staged “The Cherry Orchard,” but also wrote a book about this play, said: “Two hectares.” Director P. (wonderful, subtle) said: “One and a half.”

A thousand hectares is a different feeling of life. This is your boundless space, boundless expanse. What to compare with? The poor man has a shower, the rich man has a jacuzzi. And there is the open sea, the ocean. Does it matter how many square kilometers there are? The important thing is that the shores are not visible.

...Why don’t Ranevskaya and her brother act according to such a simple, such a profitable plan of Lopakhin? Why don't they agree? Who plays - that they are out of laziness, who - out of stupidity, because of their inability (they say that the nobles are an obsolete class) to live in real world, and not in your fantasies.

But for them, endless space is a reality, and fences are a disgusting fantasy.

If the director does not see a huge estate, then the actors will not act and the audience will not understand. Our usual landscape is the walls of houses, fences, billboards.

After all, no one thought what would happen next. If you hand over a thousand plots, a thousand dachas will appear. Summer residents are a family people. Four to five thousand people will settle next to you. From Saturday to Sunday, families of friends will come to them for an overnight stay. In total, this means that under your nose there will be ten to twelve thousand people - songs, drunken screams, crying children, squeals of bathing girls - hell.

CHEKHOV – NEMIROVICH-DANCHENKO

No special decorations are required. Only in the second act will you give me a real green field and road and a distance unusual for the stage.

You walk - fields, meadows, copses - endless open spaces! The soul is filled high feelings. Anyone who has walked or traveled around Russia knows this delight. But this is only if the view opens up for kilometers.

If you walk between high fences (with barbed wire on top), then the feelings are low: frustration, anger. Fences are higher, feelings are lower.

L O P A KH I N. Lord, you gave us huge forests, vast fields, the deepest horizons, and living here, we ourselves should truly be giants...

It didn't come true.

CHEKHOV - SUVORINA

I looked at several estates. There are small ones, but there are no large ones that would be suitable for you. There are small ones - one and a half, three and five thousand. For fifteen hundred - 40 acres, a huge pond and a house with a park.

In our country, 15 acres is considered a large plot. For Chekhov, 44 hectares is small. (Pay attention to the prices: 4400 acres, a pond, a house, a park - for one and a half thousand rubles.)

...Below us is still Central Russian elevation. But how vile she has become.

LOPAKHIN. Until now, there were only gentlemen and peasants in the village, but now there are also summer residents. All cities, even the smallest ones, are now surrounded by dachas. And we can say that in twenty years the summer resident will multiply to an extraordinary extent.

The wall is high, and behind it is a patch of six to twelve acres, a crow settlement, cramped. Previously, there was a plank house on such a piece of land and there was comparatively a lot of space for radishes. And now on such a piece of land stands a three-story concrete monster. Instead of windows there are loopholes; You can only walk sideways between the house and the fence.

Landscapes have been destroyed. Yesterday you were driving - on both sides of the highway there were endless fields, forests, meadows, hills. Today, five-meter fences have shot up on both sides. It's like driving in a tunnel.

Five meters is the same as one hundred meters: the earth disappears. All you have left is the sky above the barbed wire.

Someone grabbed the land, and our Motherland disappeared. The look that shapes a personality more than a banner and anthem has disappeared.

Theatrical liberties

In addition to the huge space, which no one noticed, the Cherry Orchard has two secrets. They haven't been solved yet.

...For those who have forgotten the plot. First year of the twentieth century. The noblewoman Ranevskaya returns from Paris to her estate. Her brother and her two daughters, Anya and Varya (adopted), live here. The entire estate is being sold at auction for debts. A family friend, the merchant Lopakhin, seemed to be trying to teach the owners how to get out of debt, but they did not listen to him. Then Lopakhin, unexpectedly for everyone, bought it himself. And Petya Trofimov is a thirty-year-old eternal student, beggar, homeless, Anin’s boyfriend. Petya considers it his duty to cut the truth straight into everyone’s eyes. He asserts himself so much... The cherry orchard is sold, everyone is leaving in all directions; Finally they kill the elderly Firs. Not baseball bats, of course, but with nails; they board up doors and shutters; crammed into an empty house, he will simply die of hunger.

What are the secrets in the old play? Over a hundred years, thousands of theaters staged it; everything has long been dismantled to pieces.

And yet there are secrets! – have no doubt, reader, evidence will be presented.

Secrets!.. What are real secrets? For example, was Ranevskaya Lopakhin’s mistress? Or how old is she?..

Such life truth(which is discussed by gossip girls on benches) is entirely in the hands of the director and actors. In scientific terms it is called interpretation. But most often it is rudeness, greasiness, vulgarity, antics, or that simplicity that is worse than theft.

Here the landowner Ranevskaya was left alone with the eternal student.

RANEVSKAYA. I can scream now... I can do something stupid. Save me, Petya.

She prays for emotional sympathy, for consolation. But without changing a word - only with facial expressions, intonation, body movements - it is easy to show that she is asking to quench her lust. It is enough for the actress to lift her skirt or simply pull Petya towards her.

Theater is a rough, old, public art, in Russian it is a disgrace.

Adventures of the body are much more spectacular than mental work, and they are a million times easier to play.

How old is the heroine? The play doesn’t say, but usually Ranevskaya is played “from fifty.” It happens that the role is played by a famous actress in her seventies (she saw Stanislavsky as a child!). The Grand Old Woman is led onto the stage arm in arm. The audience greets the living (half-living) legend with applause.

The famous Lithuanian director Nyakrosius gave this role to Maksakova. Her Ranevskaya is approaching sixty (in the West, this is what women over eighty look like). But Nyakrosius came up with not only an age for Ranevskaya, but also a diagnosis.

She can barely walk, barely speak, and most importantly, she doesn’t remember anything. And the viewer immediately understands: aha! Russian lady Ranevskaya suffered a stroke in Paris (in our opinion, a stroke). The ingenious find brilliantly justifies many of the lines in the first act.

LOPAKHIN. Lyubov Andreevna lived abroad for five years. Will she recognize me?

Strange. Has Lopakhin really changed so much in five years? Why does he doubt whether he will “find out”? But if Ranevskaya has a stroke, then it’s understandable.

The first words of Anya and Ranevskaya were also justified.

ANYA. Do you, mom, remember which room this is?

RANEVSKAYA(joyfully, through tears) . Children's!

It's a stupid question. Ranevskaya was born and lived all her life in this house, grew up in this nursery, then her daughter Anya grew up here, then her son Grisha, who drowned at the age of seven.

But if Ranevskaya is mad, then the daughter’s question is justified, and the answer found with difficulty, with tears, and the patient’s joy that she was able to remember.

If only the play had ended here - bravo, Nyakrosius! But ten minutes later Gaev will talk about his sister with indecent frankness.

GAEV. She's vicious. This is felt in her slightest movement.

Sorry, in all of Ranevskaya-Maksakova’s movements we see paralysis, not depravity.

Yes, of course, the director has the right to any interpretation. But you can't turn too sharply. The play, having lost its logic, collapses like a train derailed.

And it becomes uninteresting to watch. Nonsense is boring.

Peculiarities of interpretation may be related to age, gender, the orientation of the director, and even nationality.

The world-famous German director Peter Stein staged “Three Sisters” and was a resounding success. Muscovites watched with curiosity as the guard of the zemstvo council, Ferapont, brought papers to the master’s house (office) for signature. It’s winter, so the old man comes in wearing earflaps, a sheepskin coat, and felt boots. There is snow on my hat and shoulders. Foreign tourists are delighted - Russia! But the German does not know that the watchman cannot enter the master’s house in a hat and sheepskin coat, that the old man would be undressed and taken off his shoes at the distant approaches (in the hallway, in the servants’ room). He does not know that a Russian, an Orthodox Christian, automatically takes off his hat when entering a room, even if not to a master, but to a hut. But Stein wanted to show icy Russia (the eternal nightmare of Europe). If “Three Sisters” had been staged in a German circus, the snow-covered Ferapont would have ridden into the master’s office on a bear. In a rich circus - on a polar bear.

Chekhov is not a symbolist, not a decadent. It has subtext, but there are no substitutions.

When Varya says to Trofimov:

VARYA. Petya, here they are, your galoshes.(With tears.) And how dirty and old they are... -

There is, of course, a subtext: “I’m so tired of you! How unhappy I am!” But the substitutions are of the flirtatious type: “You can take your galoshes, and if you want, you can take me too- this is not the case. And it cannot be. And if they play like this (which is not excluded), then Varya’s image will be destroyed. And for what? – for the sake of a few teenagers cackling in the last row?

There is a limit to interpretations. You can’t argue against direct meanings, direct indications of the text. Here in “Three Sisters” Andrei’s wife worries:

NATASHA. It seems to me that Bobik is unwell. Bobik's nose is cold.

You can, of course, give her a lap dog named Bobik. But if the play clearly states that Bobik is the child of Andrei and Natasha, then:

a) Bobik is not a dog;

b) Natasha is not a man in disguise; not a transvestite.

...So how old is Ranevskaya? The play doesn't say it, but the answer is simple. Chekhov wrote the role for Olga Knipper, his wife, and tailored it to her characteristics and talent. He knew all her habits, knew her as a woman and as an actress, and sewed her exactly to measure so that she would fit snugly. He finished the play in the fall of 1903. Olga Knipper was 35 years old. This means that Ranevskaya is the same; She got married early (at 18 she already gave birth to Anya, her daughter’s age is indicated as 17). She is, as her brother says, vicious. Lopakhin, waiting, is worried like a man.

Chekhov really wanted both the play and his wife to be a success. Adult children age their parents. The younger Anya looks, the better for Olga Knipper. The playwright struggled to assign roles by mail.

CHEKHOV – NEMIROVICH-DANCHENKO

I'll call the play a comedy. Olga will take the role of the mother, but I don’t presume to decide who will play the 17-year-old daughter, a girl, young and thin.

CHEKHOV to OLGA KNIPPER

You will play Lyubov Andreevna. Anya should play definitely young actress.

CHEKHOV – NEMIROVICH-DANCHENKO

Anyone can play Anya, even a completely unknown actress, as long as she is young, looks like a girl, and speaks in a young, ringing voice.

It didn't work out. Stanislavsky gave Anya to his wife, Marya Petrovna, who was thirty-seven at that time. Stage Anya became two years older than her mother. And Chekhov insisted in subsequent letters: Anya doesn’t care who she is, as long as she’s young. The corset and makeup don't help. The voice and plasticity at thirty-seven are not the same as at seventeen.

Ranevskaya is pretty and exciting. Lopakhin hastily explains to her:

LOPAKHIN. You are still just as gorgeous. Your brother says about me that I’m a boor, I’m a fist, but that doesn’t really matter to me. I only wish that you would still believe me, that your amazing, touching eyes would look at me as before. Merciful God! My father was a serf to your grandfather and father, but you once did so much for me that I forgot everything and love you like my own... more than my own.

Such a passionate explanation, and even in the presence of her brother and servants. How would Lopakhin behave if they were alone? There was something between them. What does it mean “I forgot everything and love you more than my own”? “Forgot everything” sounds like “forgave everything.” What did he forgive? Serfdom? or treason? After all, she lived in Paris with her lover, everyone knows this, even Anya.

Ranevskaya is a young, passionate woman. And Lopakhin’s remark “will she recognize me?” – not her stroke, but his fear: how will she look at him? is there any hope for renewing the exciting relationship?

Or is he aiming to grab the estate?

Petya and the wolf

In The Cherry Orchard, we repeat, there are two mysteries that have not yet been solved.

First secret- Why did Petya Trofimov decisively and completely change his opinion about Lopakhin?

Here is their dialogue (in the second act):

LOPAKHIN. Let me ask you, how do you understand me?

TROFIMOV. I, Ermolai Alekseich, understand this: you are a rich man, you will soon be a millionaire. Just as in terms of metabolism you need a predatory beast that eats everything that gets in its way, so you are needed. (Everyone laughs.)

This is very rude. It looks like rudeness. And even in the presence of ladies. In the presence of Ranevskaya, whom Lopakhin idolizes. Moreover, this transition from “you” to “you” to demonstrate outright contempt. And he didn’t just call it a predator and a beast, but also added information about metabolism, tightening up the gastrointestinal tract.

A predatory beast - that is, a forest orderly. Okay, I didn’t say “worm” or “dung beetle,” which are also needed for metabolism.

And three months later (in the last act, in the finale):

TROFIMOV(Lopakhin) . You have thin, delicate fingers, like an artist, you have a subtle, gentle soul...

This “you” is completely different, admiring.

Both times Trofimov is absolutely sincere. Petya is not a hypocrite, he speaks out directly and is proud of his directness.

One might suspect that he was flattering the millionaire for some purpose. But Petya doesn’t ask for money. Lopakhin, hearing about the gentle soul, immediately melted; offers money and even imposes. Petya refuses decisively and stubbornly.

LOPAKHIN. Take money from me for the trip. I'm offering you a loan because I can. Why bother? I'm a man... simply. (Takes out his wallet.)

TROFIMOV. Give me at least two hundred thousand, I won’t take it.

“Beast of Prey” is not a compliment, it’s very offensive and no one can like it. Even a banker, even a bandit. For brutality and predation do not count positive qualities even now, and even more so a hundred years ago.

“Beast of Prey” completely excludes the “tender soul.”

Has Lopakhin changed? No, we don't see that. His character does not change at all from beginning to end.

This means that Petya’s view has changed. How radical - 180 degrees!

Chekhov's view of Lopakhin cannot change. For Lopakhin exists in Chekhov’s brain. That is, Chekhov knows everything about him. Knows from the very beginning. Knows before it starts.

And Petya gets to know Lopakhin gradually, but along the way he may get lost and be deceived.

Othello doesn't know that Iago is a scoundrel and a slanderer. Othello will understand this with horror only in the finale, when it is too late (he has already strangled his wife). If he had known from the very beginning, there would have been no trust, no betrayal, there would have been no play.

Shakespeare knows about Iago everything before the beginning.

The viewer recognizes the essence of Iago is very quickly - as quickly as Shakespeare wants.

Lopakhin is a merchant, nouveau riche (a rich man in the first generation). He kept pretending to be a family friend, tricking him little by little...

RANEVSKAYA. Ermolai Alekseich, lend me more!

LOPAKHIN. I'm listening.

...and then - Petya was right - the predator took over, seized the moment and grabbed it; everyone was dumbfounded.

RANEVSKAYA. Who bought it?

LOPAKHIN. I bought! Hey musicians, play, I want to listen to you! Come and watch how Ermolai Lopakhin takes an ax to the cherry orchard and how the trees fall to the ground! We will set up dachas, and our grandchildren and great-grandchildren will see a new life here! Music, play clearly! Let everything be as I wish! I can pay for everything! My cherry orchard! My!

Correctly, Gaev says disgustingly about Lopakhin: “Boor.” (It’s strange that Efros, for the role of a boorish merchant, took the Poet - Vysotsky - a rude man with the subtlest, ringing soul.)

Lopakhin innocently admits:

LOPAKHIN(to the maid Dunyasha) . I read the book and didn’t understand anything. I read and fell asleep...(to Gaev and Ranevskaya) . My dad was a man, an idiot, he didn’t understand anything... In essence, I’m the same idiot and idiot. I didn't learn anything.

Often a rich man speaks about books with contempt and contempt. He flaunts: “I read it and didn’t understand” - it sounds like this: they say, it’s all nonsense.

Lopakhin is a predator! At first, of course, he pretended to care, empathized, and then he revealed himself - he grabbed it and swaggered in a frenzy: come, they say, to see how I grab an ax through the cherry orchard.

Subtle soul? And Varya (Ranevskaya’s adopted daughter)? He was a generally recognized groom, he showed hope and - he deceived, did not marry, and before that, it is possible that he took advantage of him - there she is, crying... Subtle soul? No - an animal, a predator, a male.

Maybe there was something good in him, but then instinct, the greed, took over. Look how he yells: “My cherry orchard! My!"

What happened? Why Did Petya turn around so sharply?

Not a single performance solved this mystery. Or maybe the directors didn’t see any secret here. For most, the main thing is to create an atmosphere; there is no time for logic.

Having already guessed, I called Smelyansky, a major theorist, expert on theatrical history, Art Theater:

- What happened to Petya? Why first “predator” and then “gentle soul”?

– This, you know, is a sharp complication of the image.

“Complicating the image” is a luxurious, literary and theatrical expression, but it does not explain anything.

Why complicate Petya at the last minute? The finale is not dedicated to him. It’s already the end, now they will disperse forever, this will no longer have any development; It is impossible to make us re-evaluate everything that has happened so far; there are only seconds left.

The poetry of egoism

Second secret- why does Ranevskaya take all the money for herself (to squander it in Paris), and no one - neither her brother nor her daughters - protests, remaining poor and homeless?

...When the auction came close, the rich “Yaroslavl grandmother-countess” sent fifteen thousand to buy out the estate in Anya’s name, but this money would not have been enough to pay the interest. I bought Lopakhin. Grandma's money remained intact.

And here’s the finale: the hosts are leaving, things are packed, and in five minutes Firs will be scored.

RANEVSKAYA(But not) . My girl... I'm leaving for Paris, I'll live there ( with a scoundrel lover. – A.M.) with the money that your Yaroslavl grandmother sent to buy the estate - long live grandmother! “But this money won’t last long.”

ANYA. You, mom, will be back soon, soon, won't you?(Kisses mother’s hands.)

This is great! Anya is not three years old, she is seventeen. She already knows what and how much. The grandmother sent money to her, her beloved granddaughter (the rich countess does not like Ranevskaya). And mommy takes everything clean and goes to Paris to her boyfriend. He leaves his brother and daughters in Russia without a single penny.

Anya – if we’re talking about ourselves ashamedly – ​​could have said: “Mom, what about uncle?” Gaev – if we’re talking about himself ashamedly – ​​could have said to his sister: “Lyuba, what about Anya?” No, nothing like that is happening. No one is indignant, although this is a robbery in broad daylight. And the daughter even kisses her mother’s hands. How can we understand their submission?

Varya is an adopted daughter, her rights are less. But she was not silent when it came to just five rubles.

RANEVSKAYA. There is no silver... It doesn’t matter, here’s a gold one...

PASSERBY. Dearly grateful to you!

VARYA. I'll leave... Oh, mommy, people at home have nothing to eat, but you gave him a gold one.

Varya publicly reproached her mother when she gave too much to the beggar. But he is silent about fifteen thousand.

And how to understand Ranevskaya? – this is some kind of monstrous, transcendental selfishness, heartlessness. However, her high feelings exist next to dessert.

RANEVSKAYA. God knows, I love my homeland, I love it dearly, I couldn’t watch from the carriage, I kept crying.(Through tears.) However, you need to drink coffee.

When suddenly these secrets were unraveled, the first thing that came was doubts: it couldn’t be that no one had noticed this before. Are all the directors of the world, including such geniuses as Stanislavsky, Efros...

Can't be! Didn’t he really see the subtlest, magical Efros? But if he had seen it, it would have been in his performance. Which means we would see it on stage. But this was not the case. Or was it, but I looked through it, overlooked it, didn’t understand?

Didn’t you see Efros?! He saw so much that I flew home from the theater to check: was it really such written by Chekhov?! Yes, it's written. I didn’t see, I didn’t understand until Efros opened my eyes. And to many, many.

His play “The Cherry Orchard” changed the opinion about Taganka actors. Someone considered them Lyubimov’s puppets, but here they revealed themselves as the finest masters of psychological theater.

...It became so unbearable that I wanted to find out immediately. It was midnight. Efros in the next world. Vysotsky (who played Lopakhin in the play Efros) in the next world. Who to call?

Demidova! Efros played Ranevskaya brilliantly. It's late, last time we talked ten years ago. Will they understand who is calling? Will he be angry at the midnight call or will he think he’s crazy?.. Time passed, it became later, more and more indecent (in addition, the middle name flew out of my head), and it was impossible to wait until tomorrow. Eh, was not there:

– Alla, hello, sorry, for God’s sake, for the late call.

- Yes, Sasha. What's happened?

- I'm talking about The Cherry Orchard. You played Ranevskaya at Efros’s and... But if it’s inconvenient now, maybe tomorrow I’ll...

– I’m ready to talk about The Cherry Orchard until the morning.

I said about fifteen thousand, about my grandmother, about my daughters and brother, who are left without a penny, and asked: “How could you take all the money and go to Paris? Such selfishness! And why did they endure it?” Demidova answered without hesitation:

- Oh, Sasha, but this is a poetic theater!

Poetry theater? But the whole play is endless talk about money, debts, interest.

ANYA...not a penny<…>gives the lackeys a ruble tip each<…>did you pay interest?

VARYA. The estate will be sold in August<…>I'd like to pass you off as rich.

LOPAKHIN. The cherry orchard is being sold for debts. The auction is scheduled for August 22<…>if you rent out the land for dachas, you will have twenty-five thousand a year in income<…>twenty-five rubles a year per tithe.

PEEKER. Lend me two hundred and forty rubles<…>pay the mortgage...

GAEV. The garden will be sold for debts<…>It would be nice to marry Anya to a rich man<…>It would be nice to borrow against a bill.

RANEVSKAYA. Varya, to save money, feeds everyone only peas<…>My husband drank terribly<…>Unfortunately, I fell in love with someone else and got together<…>I sold my dacha near Menton. He robbed me, left me, got along with someone else...

A noblewoman could say “ruined”, but “robbed”, “got along” - not at all poetic.

PEEKER. The day after tomorrow three hundred and ten rubles to pay...

RANEVSKAYA. Grandmother sent fifteen thousand.

VARYA. Even if it were a hundred rubles, I would give up everything and leave...

PEEKER. Lend me one hundred and eighty rubles.

GAEV(Ranevskaya) . You gave them your wallet, Lyuba! You can not do it this way!

PEEKER. A horse is a good animal, a horse can be sold.

For him, even a horse is just money.

LOPAKHIN. Eight rubles a bottle.

PEEKER. Get four hundred rubles... I have eight hundred and forty left.

LOPAKHIN. I have now earned forty thousand...

I'm afraid I'll tire you. If you write out all the remarks about money and interest, there won’t be enough space.

The main theme of “The Cherry Orchard” is the menacingly impending sale of the estate. And disaster - sold!

Ten years earlier, Chekhov wrote Uncle Vanya. There's only words about the proposed sale the estate caused an ugly, ugly-natural scandal, insults, screams, sobs, hysterics, even a direct attempt to kill the professor for the intention sell. Uncle Vanya shoots - twice! - into a professor. And he misses twice. And in the poetic theater they always hit it on the spot. (Poor Lensky.)

...Chekhov is a practicing doctor, and often in a poor, impoverished environment.

CHEKHOV - SUVORINA

Over this summer, I have gotten so good at treating diarrhea, vomiting and all sorts of cholera that even I myself am delighted: I’ll start in the morning, and by the evening it’s ready - the patient asks to eat.

The doctor knows how a person works and what affects his behavior. Because behavior is influenced not only by high thoughts, but also by low diseases (for example, bloody diarrhea).

They are not shy in front of the doctor. They are naked in front of the doctor (in every sense and angle). He doesn't have to make things up; he's seen and heard enough.

CHEKHOV – ROSSOLIMO

My studies in the medical sciences had a profound impact on my literary activity; enriched me with knowledge, true price which for me, as a writer, can only be understood by someone who is a doctor himself... Thanks to my proximity to medicine, I managed to avoid many mistakes. My acquaintance with the natural sciences always kept me on my guard, and I tried, where possible, to comply with scientific data, and where impossible, I preferred not to write at all.

Poetic theater - what is it? Fluttering lyricism, moon baths, awkward feelings, curls, lack of everyday logic, buttercups instead of logic?

If you get to the bottom of logic, fragile poetry will not survive.

So you don’t have to look for it, otherwise you’ll end up with a household theater. Moreover, if the great ones haven’t found it, then it’s not necessary.

Poetic? Did Chekhov write high tragedy? Pathetic drama? No, The Cherry Orchard is a comedy. Chekhov insisted: a comedy with farcical elements. And he was afraid (in letters) that Nemirovich-Danchenko would be angry at the farce. So Salieri was angry at Mozart’s frivolity: “You, Mozart, are God and don’t know it yourself.” That is, like a sparrow - he chirped, without understanding what.

“The Cherry Orchard” is an everyday play. What to be afraid of? Household does not mean small. Life is tragic. Most die not in an embrasure, not in a duel, not on the Varyag, not even on stage - in everyday life.

Blok - yes, a poetic theater. That's why they don't put it anywhere. And Chekhov is meat!

CHEKHOV - LEIKIN

I opened the opening together with the district doctor in a field, on a country road. The dead man was “not from here,” and the men on whose land the body was found, by Christ God, prayed with tears to us not to open it in their village... The murdered man was a factory worker. He walked from the Tukhlovsky tavern with a barrel of vodka. The Tukhlov innkeeper, who does not have the right to sell takeaway, in order to obscure the evidence, stole a barrel from the dead man...

You are indignant at the examination of nurses. What about examining prostitutes? If the medical police can, without insulting the personality of the seller, testify to apples and hams, then why can’t they also inspect the goods of wet nurses or prostitutes? Anyone who is afraid of offending should not buy.

"Money?! - fi!” No, not "fi". In his letters, Chekhov constantly worries about money, asks for money, scrupulously calculates: how much is an apartment, how much per line, interest, debts, prices. (Many of Pushkin’s letters are full of the same torment; not poetic; debts were suffocating.)

CHEKHOV - SUVORINA

Thanks for the nickel increase. Alas, she cannot improve my affairs. To emerge from the abyss of penny worries and petty fears, there was only one way left for me - immoral. Marry a rich woman. And since this is impossible, I gave up on my affairs.

And he is also a professional in buying and selling estates. I bought it several times, searched for a long time, asked the price, bargained. I didn’t buy it with money, but with money I earned.

CHEKHOV - SUVORINA

When purchasing the estate, I owed the former owner three thousand and gave him a mortgage for this amount. In November I received a letter: if I pay the mortgage now, they will give me 700 rubles. The offer is profitable. Firstly, the estate costs not 13 thousand, but 12,300, and secondly, there is no interest to pay.

By seeing “poetry” where there is none, the theater makes its life easier.

- Why does the heroine do this?

- The devil knows! This, you see, is a poetic theater.

What about “Little Tragedies”? " Stingy Knight“Isn’t it poetic theater? And there everyone talks only about money, they count money, they poison and kill for money. “Mozart and Salieri” is a recognized masterpiece of poetry. And there they poison and kill out of envy - is this a poetic feeling? How to play envy poetically? Like haze, pink fog? Howling like a bad Baba Yaga at a children's party?

Chekhov did not consider that he was engaged in poetic theater. He was extremely concerned about the logic of images. And he looked very soberly (as only doctors can) at his contemporaries - at all classes and strata. To call his plays poetic is to directly state: Chekhov did not understand what he was doing. Unconscious genius; or, as Salieri says about Mozart, an idle reveler.

Times and manners

In the center of Moscow, a woman (who looked non-Russian, with an accent) admitted:

– I don’t have a real passport.

She said it loudly; and not during interrogation by the police, not drunk, not begging for alms (although it is unlikely that a person of a foreign nationality will pity a Muscovite by telling him that he is living on false documents). Many have heard.

Strange. For some reason, this sad woman with the awkward name Charlotte was absolutely sure that no one would tell. And why, for her stupid frankness, won’t she end up in ten minutes in a “funnel”, where she will have to pay off with money, and maybe something else (if she is considered pretty enough).

And, indeed, no one reported it, although several hundred people heard it.

Charlotte traveled to Paris with a false passport - from Russia (from the prison of nations, from the police state) to France and back.

Charlotte - on stage; the 19th century had just ended there. We are in the hall; we started the twenty-first. In Moscow there are four Cherry Orchard theaters at once. Sometimes two or three coincide in one evening. Why do we need them?

CHEKHOV - SUVORINA

...why lie to the people? Why assure him that he is right in his ignorance and that his gross prejudices are the holy truth? Can a wonderful future really atone for this vile lie? If I were a politician, I would never dare to disgrace my present for the sake of the future, not even for my spool they promised a hundred pounds of bliss to vile lies.

We have become different. Life is different, time is different, way of life, upbringing, attitude towards children, towards women, towards the elderly. Everything became like Yasha’s: rude, lackey-like.

FIRS. In the old days, about forty to fifty years ago, cherries were dried, soaked, pickled, jam was made... And it used to be that dried cherries were sent by carts to Moscow and Kharkov. There was money! And dried cherries then were soft, juicy, sweet, fragrant... They knew the method then...

God! This is what a garden must be like to send dried (!) food in carts... But old people are not needed, of course.

In the old days, people talked, read aloud in the evenings, played home plays... Now they watch others chatting (falsely and rudely) on TV.

Pushkin was traveling one from Moscow to St. Petersburg, to Odessa, to the Caucasus, to Orenburg in the footsteps of Pugachev... If he sat in the “Red Arrow”, the showman, newsmaker, producer Khlestakov would immediately join him:

- Alexander Sergeich! How's it going, brother?

Pushkin was traveling alone. Moreover, he thought, he had nothing more to do; You can’t talk to the coachman’s back.

Fellow travelers, radio and TV leave no room for thought.

Chekhov traveled part of the road to Sakhalin with fellow travelers and lieutenants and suffered greatly from empty talk (he complained in letters).

...The characters of “The Cherry Orchard” are nobles, merchants... For Chekhov these were friends, acquaintances - environment. Then she was gone.

The nobles and merchants died 90 years ago. They were cancelled.

There are nobles in the play, but not in real life. What will they be like on stage? Fictional. It’s just like the fish would play a play about the birds. They would talk about flying while moving their gills.

In Bulgakov's " Theatrical novel“The young playwright examines portraits of founders, luminaries, and artists in the foyer of the Art Theater... Suddenly, with amazement, he stumbles upon a portrait of a general.

"- And who is this?

– Major General Claudius Aleksandrovich Komarovsky-Echappard de Bioncourt, commander of the Life Guards of His Majesty’s Uhlan Regiment.

– What roles did he play?

- Kings, generals and valets in rich houses... Well, naturally, we have manners, you understand. And he knew everything through and through, whether the lady should wear a handkerchief, whether to pour wine, he spoke perfect French, better than the French.”

“We have manners, you understand...” The conversation takes place in the 1920s, but the general entered the theater under the Tsar. Even then it was necessary to show the actors how the aristocrats served the scarf.

Today, entering our theater (whether big or small), Russian boyars would not recognize themselves. So Ivan the Terrible did not recognize himself in the cowardly house manager. After all, we don’t recognize ourselves (Russians, Soviets) in the stupid, clumsy idiots from Hollywood films.

There were no nobles or merchants for almost a hundred years. They remained in textbooks - once and for all approved school popular prints. The merchant is a greedy, cruel, rude tyrant Dikoy (he does not know spiritual movements, he rejects marriage for love). The noblewoman is a cutesy, hypocritical, stupid, empty doll.

The merchants and nobles were gone, but the lackeys remained. And everyone was judged by themselves - like a lackey. These lackeys, wanting to please the new masters (also lackeys), portrayed the destroyed (cancelled) in a mocking, vulgar, caricatured manner. And no one was free from these interpretations - and since the 1930s they had already been hammered into them from kindergarten.

And the merchant in the Soviet theater was always Dikaya and never Tretyakov (whose gallery).

We still use it: Botkin hospital, Morozov hospital (and many more) were built by merchants for the poor, not VIP clubs and fitness centers. Not every king built so much for the people.

Soviet power ended in 1991. Capitalism has returned. What about nobles and merchants? They weren’t waiting behind the scenes for the command “to go on stage!” They died. And their culture died.

The language remained almost Russian. But concepts... The very word “concepts” a hundred years ago referred to honor and justice, and now to robbery and murder.

In 1980, Yuri Lotman wrote “Commentary to “Eugene Onegin” - a manual for teachers.” At the beginning it says:

“To explain what the reader already understands means, firstly, to uselessly increase the volume of the book, and secondly, to offend the reader with a derogatory idea of ​​​​his literary horizons. It is useless and offensive for an adult and a specialist to read explanations designed for a fifth-grade student.”

Having warned that understandable will not explain, Lotman continues:

“A large group of words in Eugene Onegin that are lexically incomprehensible to the modern reader relate to objects and phenomena of everyday life, both material (household items, clothing, food, wine, etc.) and moral (the concept of honor).”

This means that we still (or already) had to explain teachers, what is Mentic, Clicquot and honor.

Over the same years, the water in the Moscow River became polluted, the fish changed beyond recognition, to horror: claws, fangs, blind eyes... Are we the same?

CHEKHOV - SUVORINA

God's light is good. There's only one thing that's not good: us. How little justice and humility we have, how poorly we understand patriotism! We, they say in the newspapers, love our great homeland, but how is this love expressed? Instead of knowledge - impudence and conceit beyond measure, instead of work - laziness and swinishness, there is no justice, the concept of honor does not go further than the “honor of the uniform”, the uniform that serves as the everyday decoration of our docks for defendants. ("Werewolves." – A.M.) You have to work, and to hell with everything else. The main thing is to be fair, and the rest will follow.

Or maybe we are still the same?..

...Then the pendulum swung - they began to wax poetic about the nobility.

All the ladies of the 19th century became the wives of the Decembrists. All men are Andrei Bolkonsky. Who did Pushkin call “secular rabble”, “secular bastard”? Who lost at slave cards? Who poisoned peasant children with dogs and kept harems? Who drove the peasants to such anger that, having caught a white officer, instead of humanely spanking him, they impaled him?

The internal, sometimes unconscious protest of Soviet people against Soviet ideology gave rise to admiration for the nobles. Exactly according to Okudzhava:

...Followed by duelists, adjutants.

Epaulets shine.

They are all handsome, they are all talented,

They are all poets.

Not all. In 1826, when five Decembrists were hanged and 121 were taken to hard labor, there were 435 thousand male nobles in Russia. Heroes and poets made up three hundredths of one percent (0.03%) of the aristocracy. Let us not count their share in the sea of ​​people.

Chekhov did not wax poetic about his contemporaries. Neither the nobles, nor the people, nor the intelligentsia, nor brothers in writing.

CHEKHOV - SUVORINA

Today's best writers, whom I love, serve evil because they destroy. One of them… ( rude words. – A.M.) Others... ( rude words. – A.M.) Not satiated with the body, but already satiated with the spirit, they refine their imagination to the extreme. They compromise science in the eyes of the crowd, disparage conscience, freedom, love, honor, morality from the heights of literary greatness, instilling in the crowd the confidence that everything that restrains the beast in it and distinguishes it from a dog and that was obtained through a centuries-old struggle with nature is easy may be discredited. Do such authors really make you look for something better, make you think and admit that the bad is really bad? No, in Russia they help the devil breed slugs and woodlice, which we call intellectuals. Lethargic, apathetic, lazy-philosophizing, cold intelligentsia, which is not patriotic, dull, colorless, who grumbles and willingly denies EVERYTHING, since for a lazy brain it is easier to deny than to affirm; who does not marry and refuses to raise children, etc. And all this due to the fact that life has no meaning, that for women... ( rude word. – A.M.) and that money is evil.

Where there is degeneration and apathy, there is sexual perversion, cold debauchery, miscarriages, early old age, grumbling youth, there is a decline in the arts, indifference to science, there is INJUSTICE in all its form. A society that does not believe in God, but is afraid of signs and the devil, does not dare even mention that it is familiar with justice.

CHEKHOV - LEONTIEV

I cannot understand that you mean some kind of sophisticated, higher morality, since there are neither lower, nor higher, nor average moralities, but there is only one, namely the one that gave us Jesus Christ and which now prevents me and you from stealing, insulting, lying, etc.

In The Cherry Orchard, the decrepit Firs dreamily remembers serfdom, canceled forty years ago.

FIRS. Before the disaster there was also...

LOPAKHIN. Before what misfortune?

FIRS. Before the will. Then I didn’t agree to freedom, I stayed with the masters... And I remember, everyone is happy, but what they’re happy about, they themselves don’t know... And now everything is fragmented, you won’t understand anything.

Typical soviet man- grieves about order, about the times of Brezhnev, Stalin, grieves about the decline.

FIRS. Previously, generals, barons, and admirals danced at our balls, but now we send for the postal official and the station master, and even they are not willing to go.

YASHA. I'm tired of you, grandpa. I wish you would die soon.

Yes, it used to be an honor to visit a professor. And the delicacies in his family did not surprise anyone. And the caviar bank could not achieve success (let alone delight).

Then for seventy years they taught that there are two classes: workers and peasants (collective farmers), and the intelligentsia is a stratum. There is no doubt that the intelligentsia is extremely small in number. But why is she a layer between workers and collective farmers, it is impossible to understand.

The professors (layer) did not know how to get cervelat. As long as they were issued, it was good. They stopped giving it out - the refrigerator became empty. And the thieves' blonde around the corner stuns the professor's family with a stick of cervelat, a piece of brisket - the fruits of a body kit, a shortcut.

Now delicacies are no longer in short supply. Now these capable blondes and blonds have come around the corner. In Soviet times, they knew how to solve their gastronomic problems. It turned out - in new conditions - that you can arrange a career in the same way, right up to the Kremlin.

CHEKHOV - SUVORINA

What a horror it is to deal with liars! Seller artist ( Chekhov bought the estate from him. – A.M.) lies, lies, lies unnecessarily, stupidly – ​​resulting in daily disappointments. Every minute you expect new deceptions, hence the irritation. We are used to writing and saying that only merchants measure and weigh, but look at the nobles! It's disgusting to look at. These are not people, but ordinary fists, even worse than fists, for a peasant fist takes and works, but my artist takes and only eats and quarrels with the servants. You can imagine that since the summer the horses have not seen a single grain of oats or a scrap of hay, and they eat only straw, although they work for ten people. The cow does not give milk because she is hungry. The wife and mistress live under the same roof. The children are dirty and ragged. The stink of cats. Bedbugs and huge cockroaches. The artist pretends to be devoted to me with all his soul, and at the same time teaches men to deceive me. Generally nonsense and vulgarity. It’s disgusting that all this hungry and dirty bastard thinks that I’m just as anxious over a penny as she is, and that I’m also not averse to cheating.

We lived under socialism for a long time. Lost the habit of capitalism. But now everything that was the same - debts, trades, interest, bills - has come to life.

A huge number of people were ready for a new life.

TROFIMOV. I free man. I am strong and proud. Humanity is coming to higher truth, to the highest happiness that is possible on earth, and I am in the forefront!

LOPAKHIN. Will you get there?

TROFIMOV. I’ll get there... or I’ll show others the way to get there.

ANYA(joyfully). Goodbye old life!

TROFIMOV(joyfully). Hello, new life!..

The young people run away holding hands, and a minute later they kill Firs.

...Gaev and Ranevskaya are crying from hopelessness. Their youth is behind them, they don’t know how to work, their world is literally collapsing (Lopakhin ordered the demolition of the old house).

But others are young, healthy, educated. Why hopelessness and poverty, why can’t they maintain their property? Can't work?

The world has changed, rents have risen, teachers are paid little, engineers are not needed.

Life displaces them. Where? It is customary to say “on the sidelines.” But we understand that if life displaces someone - she displaces into death, to the grave. Not everyone can adapt, not everyone is able to become a shuttle or a security guard.

Readers are dying out. The world's best readers have died: 25 million in 25 years. The rest forgot (" no one remembers"), that it was possible to live differently: read other books, watch other films.

Beneath us is the same Central Russian Upland. But how base she has become.

Territory doesn't matter. Okudzhava, who had been evicted from Arbat, once walked along his former street and saw that everything here was as before. Except people.

Occupiers, fauna - this is not about the Germans. And not about the Soviets, not about the Russians, and not even about the new Russians. These are poems from 1982. This is about the nomenklatura, they are not people.

The territory is the same, but there are no people.

They don't want to live in a new way

…May. (I act.) Cherry blossoms. Ranevskaya returned from Paris. The family is ruined.

LOPAKHIN. Don't worry, my dear, there is a way out! If the cherry orchard and the land along the river are divided into summer cottages, you will have at least twenty-five thousand a year in income. You will take the least from the summer residents, twenty-five rubles a year for a tithe, I guarantee anything, you won’t have a single free scrap left until the fall, everything will be taken away. The location is wonderful, the river is deep. We just need to demolish this house, which is no longer any good, and cut down the old cherry orchard...

RANEVSKAYA. Cut it out?! My dear, forgive me, you don’t understand anything.

The garden is alive for them. Cutting off is like cutting off a hand. Trees for them are part of life, part of the body, part of the soul. That's why they imagine:

RANEVSKAYA. Look, the late mother in a white dress is walking through the garden... No, it seemed to me that at the end of the alley there was a tree covered with white flowers.

How can I turn it off? How can one agree that all this has become unnecessary? And the garden is not needed, and people are not needed - the time of young cannibals is coming.

…July. (II act.) Catastrophe is approaching.

LOPAKHIN. They tell you in Russian, your estate is for sale, but you definitely don’t understand.

Notes

Ten years before the premiere of The Cherry Orchard.

Four grams.

Slap - shoot without trial.

In the film “The Blonde Around the Corner,” the heroine, a sassy (without complexes) grocery store saleswoman, charms a modest research fellow and his parents, professors.

End of free trial.

Men's Games

Lopakhin and Gaev compete with each other for status. And since the Parisian beauty Ranevskaya is in the center of everyone’s attention, here “status in general” is status in the eyes of Ranevskaya.

The first meeting of Lopakhin and Gaev in the text of the play - Lopakhin tries to enter into the conversation between Ranevskaya and Gaev as an equal - Gaev blocks this opportunity for him.

Lyubov Andreevna . Like this? Let me remember... Yellow in the corner! Doublet in the middle!

Gaev . I'm cutting into the corner! Once upon a time, you and I, sister, slept in this very room, and now I am already fifty-one years old, oddly enough...

Lopakhin . Yes, time is ticking.

Gaev . Whom?

Lopakhin . Time, I say, is ticking.

Gaev . And here it smells like patchouli.

Gaev is afraid to directly attack Lopakhin, he does it behind his back - but in the eyes of his sister.

Lopakhin . I'm leaving, I'm leaving... (Leaves).

Gaev . Ham. However, sorry... Varya is marrying him, this is Varya’s groom.

Varya . Don't say too much, uncle.

The second direct clash ends not in Gaev’s favor

Lyubov Andreevna . Dachas and summer residents - it's so vulgar, sorry.

Gaev . I completely agree with you.

Lopakhin . I will either burst into tears, or scream, or faint. I can not! You tortured me! (To Gaev.) You are a woman!

Gaev . Whom?

Lopakhin . Woman! (Wants to leave.)

Lyubov Andreevna (scared). No, don't go, stay, darling. I ask you to. Maybe we'll think of something!

Finally, having bought the garden, Lopakhin finally destroys Gaev - but this is a Pyrrhic victory. Ranevskaya leaves.

Gaev (doesn’t answer her, just waves his hand; Firs, crying). Here you go... There are anchovies, Kerch herrings... I haven't eaten anything today... I've suffered so much! ...

Pischik . What's up for auction? Tell me!

Lyubov Andreevna . Is the cherry orchard sold?

Lopakhin . Sold.

Lyubov Andreevna . Who bought it?

Lopakhin . I bought.

Conflict of two strong men for one beautiful woman painfully superimposed here on the conflict between the old nobility and the young bourgeoisie.

It is interesting that Gaev conflicts in the same way with Yasha.

Gaev (waves his hand). I’m incorrigible, that’s obvious... (Irritated, Yasha.) What is it, you’re constantly spinning before your eyes...

Yasha (laughs). I couldn't hear your voice without laughing.

Gaev (to my sister). Either me or him...

Lyubov Andreevna . Go away, Yasha, go...

Yasha (gives Lyubov Andreevna the wallet). I'll leave now. (Barely restraining himself from laughing.) This very minute... (Leaves).

End of the world

Absolutely responsible Firs and Varya personify the strong positive foundation of the old society - Russian society until the abolition of serfdom.

Firs . Before the misfortune, it was the same: the owl was screaming, and the samovar was humming uncontrollably.

Gaev . Before what misfortune?

Firs . Before the will.

Firs was deeply convinced that the old society contained positive values ​​- and with the abolition of serfdom, these values ​​began to disintegrate and disappear from life.

Firs . In the old days, about forty to fifty years ago, cherries were dried, soaked, pickled, jam was made, and it used to be...

Gaev . Shut up, Firs.

Firs . And it used to be that dried cherries were sent by cartload to Moscow and Kharkov. There was money! And dried cherries then were soft, juicy, sweet, fragrant... They knew the method then...

Lyubov Andreevna . Where is this method now?

Firs . Forgot. Nobody remembers.

Just forty years ago serfdom was abolished. The young people began to leave for the city. There was no one to transfer old technologies to. They were forgotten. But it was these forty years that gave young people the opportunity to learn and get comfortable in the city. This is how summer residents appeared - coming from the city to the village.

Lopakhin . Until now, there were only gentlemen and peasants in the village, but now there are also summer residents. All cities, even the smallest ones, are now surrounded by dachas. And we can say that in twenty years the summer resident will multiply to an extraordinary extent. Now he only drinks tea on the balcony, but it may happen that on his one tithe he will start farming, and then your cherry orchard will become happy, rich, luxurious...

Gaev (indignant). What nonsense!

For Gaev, Ranevskaya, Firs, Varya, time stood still. Selling the garden is the end of the world for them, but for Firs it’s generally physical death

Lyubov Andreevna . Is the cherry orchard sold?

Lopakhin . Sold.

Lyubov Andreevn A. Who bought it?

Lopakhin . I bought. Pause.

Lyubov Andreevna is depressed; she would have fallen if she had not been standing near the chair and table. Varya takes the keys from her belt, throws them on the floor in the middle of the living room, and leaves.

High society as a standard

Yasha, Dunyasha, Epikhodov - three variants of one model of thinking and behavior. The point of this model is to, without sufficient grounds, enter the high society by copying external signs of behavior.

Epikhodov . I am a developed person, I read various wonderful books, but I just can’t understand the direction of what I actually want, whether I should live or shoot myself, strictly speaking, but nevertheless I always carry a revolver with me. Here it is... (Shows the revolver)... (Leaves)

Dunyasha . God forbid, he shoots himself. (Pause. I became anxious, I kept worrying. I was taken to the masters as a girl, I am now unaccustomed to simple life, and now my hands are white and white, like a young lady’s. They have become tender, so delicate, noble, I’m afraid of everything... Scary so. And if you, Yasha, deceive me, then I don’t know what will happen to my nerves.

Yasha (kisses her). Cucumber! Of course, every girl must remember herself, and what I dislike most is if a girl has bad behavior.

Dunyasha . I fell in love with you passionately, you are educated, you can talk about everything. (Pause).

Yasha (yawns). Yes, sir... In my opinion, it’s like this: if a girl loves someone, then she is immoral. (Pause). It's nice to smoke a cigarette in the clean air... (Listens). Here they come... These are gentlemen...

However, people who are “more developed mentally and spiritually” instantly distinguish this “fake high light” from the real “high light.”

Lyubov Andreevna . Who is this here smoking disgusting cigars...

Epikhodov (plays guitar and sings). “What do I care about the noisy light, what are my friends and enemies...” How pleasant it is to play the mandolin!

Dunyasha . It's a guitar, not a mandolin. (Looks in the mirror and powders herself).

Epokhodov . For a madman who is in love, this is a mandolin... (Sings.) “If only the heart would be warmed by the heat of mutual love...” (Yasha sings along).

Charlotte . These people sing terribly... ugh! Like jackals.

Pishchik and Dasha

Pishchik himself does not read books, but his daughter Dasha does. (This is the second - and last - reading character in the play - after Lopakhin). Pishchik is good because he supports his daughter and creates conditions for her cultural growth. Pishchik is not a hero (like Lopakhin), he is more primitive, more assertive, more successful than Gaev - his estate is not yet for sale. If he had been smarter, he would have entered into the share of the British, he would have become a capitalist - but that would have been a completely different story.

What Chekhov kept silent about

The play lacks direct answers to two important questions - and we will have to answer them ourselves.

Question one. Why was Ranevskaya brought from Paris?

Question two. Where does the rumor about the imminent wedding of Lopakhin and Varya come from?

Let's start with the second question - the answer to it will help us deal with the first question.

Wedding of Lopakhin and Varya

The relationship between Lopakhin and Varya, as we see them during the course of the play, does not give us the slightest reason to assume an imminent wedding. Apparently this is a rumor started by someone observing the matter from afar. Neither Varya nor Lopakhin would spread such a rumor or transmit it. Anya, Gaev, the servants - they would tell it - but not invent it. A half-outsider and half-intelligent, “creative” person, for example, Pishchik, could start the rumor. “Truly, I say to you...” But what was the basis for the rumors?

A necessary and sufficient condition for rumors is the fact of Lopakhin’s frequent, unreasonable visits to the estate. This fact can be considered proven. Lopakhin’s affairs are far away, in Kharkov. Why does he come here? He's 35, it's time to get married. There is only one person more equal to him here - Varya. It's time for Varya to get married too. This is what an outside observer thinks. But Lopakhin is not here for this. What for?

We see only one explanation. Lopakhin has been in love with Ranevskaya - since that very first meeting, twenty years ago... He was here later, saw her briefly. He saw her here before leaving. After leaving, he came here to remember Ranevskaya and talk about her.

Lopakhin ... I love you like my own... more than my own.

Such a Lopakhin after Ranevskaya cannot even look at other women. He is preparing for her arrival, “preparing a business plan” for returning the estate. But he is silent about this until Ranevskaya’s arrival. Neither Gaev nor Varya know anything about this to me. This is his surprise - “a gift for the arrival” of Ranevskaya.

Why did they bring Ranevskaya?

Obviously, the “expedition for Ranevskaya” was organized by Gaev - he is generally the main and only organizer in the family. For what?

Gaev... (To Anya.) Your mother will talk to Lopakhin; Of course, he won't refuse her...

Actually for this reason. But now, after Lopakhin’s speech about summer residents, Gaev is no longer so sure of “he won’t refuse.” This is now said rather out of inertia.

If Lopakhin had revealed himself earlier, Gaev would not have organized the expedition.

But by the beginning of the play, Lopakhin does not understand Gaev either. He is sure that Gaev will be happy with his plan, will become a manager himself, or, at worst, will hire him, Lopakhin, as a manager. And only as the play progresses, the parties (Lopakhin and Gaev) gradually realize that their previous ideas about each other are false, that they will not be able to agree.

Ranevskaya, however, does not understand this and at the end of the play, until the last minute she tries to command Lopakhin and marry him to Varya. He doesn't object, but he doesn't comply either.

From the point of view of TUAI
(Theories of levels of abstract intelligence)

A complete analysis of a dramatic text, as we understand it, must include a TAI profile of each character with justification taken from the text, plus an analysis of conflicts as a TAI maneuver.

character profile

Ranevskaya 1-5-4

Lopakhin 5-6-3

Trofimov 1-4-5

Dunyasha 3-2-1

Pischik 4-3-1

Epikhodov 4-1-2

Charlotte 5-4-6

Harmonious people have levels continuously.

These are Firs (4-3-2) and Varya (4-3-2). Their highest level is role behavior (4), the lowest is the cyclical nature of life (2).

This is Charlotte Ivanovna (5-4-6), but she has her own inner world(6), although in the first place is the determination of action, improvisation (5), in the second place is the artistic ability to perform (4).

Harmonious - in its primitivism - Dunyasha (3-2-1).

Lopakhin models someone else's consciousness as homogeneous to his own (6) (this is partly why he is always deceived in people, believing that they think the same way as him, and then he is disappointed. And why did he hire Epikhodov!)

Gaev can do this, but uses it as a means (in third place).

Anya can do this - she foresees that it will be painful for Ranevskaya to see Petya, but even here she is mistaken, equating Ranevskaya with herself).

Gaev and Lopakhin have rivalry and determination (3), Pishchik, Yasha, Dunyasha have determination (3), but Anya, Ranevskaya, Epikhodov, Trofimov do not.

Ranevskaya, Trofimov, Yasha, Lopakhin are easy to change places (5).

Gaev, Anya, Dunyasha, Trofimov are prone to stories, speeches, propaganda (4)

Level 1 - the ability to get carried away by a momentary circumstance.

This hobby gives instant speech (1-4) for Trofimov and Anya (for Anya, role obligations are still stronger than passion, 4-1), instant action (and speech) for Ranevskaya (1-4, 1-5) instant action for Yasha (1-5).

Ranevskaya still has remnants of role behavior (4) - that’s why she is trying to marry Varya and take Firs to the hospital.

But the lack of determination (3) prevents her from achieving her stated goals, although in the case of Firs this is not at all difficult.

Giving a passerby gold is both an instant passion (1) and an action (5) and a role obligation - to give to the poor (4).

The hypnotic power of Ranevskaya and Trofimov is also visible in the fact that they have level 1 in first place, and this is the level of magic, the level of shamanism.

Real art is always a riddle that the author invites the reader or viewer to solve.

If this article makes you want to return to the text Chekhov's play and re-read it - once, or twice, or ten times - our goal has been achieved.

Comedy in four acts

Characters:

Ranevskaya Lyubov Andreevna, landowner.

Anya, her daughter, 17 years old.

Varya, her adopted daughter, 24 years old.

Gaev Leonid Andreevich, brother of Ranevskaya.

Lopakhin Ermolai Alekseevich, merchant.

Trofimov Petr Sergeevich, student.

Simeonov-Pishchik Boris Borisovich, landowner.

Charlotte Ivanovna, governess.

Epikhodov Semyon Panteleevich, clerk.

Dunyasha, housemaid.

Firs, footman, old man 87 years old.

Yasha, young footman.

Passerby.

Station manager.

Postal official.

Guests, servants.

The action takes place on the estate of L.A. Ranevskaya.

Act one

A room that is still called a nursery. One of the doors leads to Anya's room. Dawn, the sun will rise soon. It’s already May, the cherry trees are blooming, but it’s cold in the garden, it’s morning. The windows in the room are closed.

Dunyasha enters with a candle and Lopakhin with a book in his hand.

Lopakhin. The train arrived, thank God. What time is it now?

Dunyasha. Soon it's two. ( Puts out the candle.) It's already light.

Lopakhin. How late was the train? For two hours" at least. ( Yawns and stretches.) I'm good, what a fool I've been! I came here on purpose to meet him at the station, and suddenly overslept... I fell asleep while sitting. It's a shame... I wish you could wake me up.

Dunyasha. I thought you left. ( Listens.) Looks like they're already on their way.

Lopakhin (listens). No... Get your luggage, this and that...

Pause.

Lyubov Andreevna lived abroad for five years, I don’t know what she’s become now... She’s a good person. An easy, simple person. I remember when I was a boy of about fifteen, my late father - he was selling in a shop here in the village back then - hit me in the face with his fist, blood started coming out of my nose... We then came together to the yard for some reason, and he was drunk. Lyubov Andreevna, as I remember now, still young, so thin, led me to the washstand, in this very room, in the nursery. “Don’t cry, he says, little man, he’ll heal before the wedding...”

Pause.

A peasant... My father, it’s true, was a peasant, but here I am in a white vest! yellow shoes. With a pig's snout in a row of Kalash... Just now he's rich, there's a lot of money, but if you think about it and figure it out, then he's a man... ( Flips through the book.) I read the book and didn’t understand anything. I read and fell asleep.

Pause.

Dunyasha. And the dogs didn’t sleep all night, they sense that their owners are coming.

Lopakhin. What are you, Dunyasha, so...

Dunyasha. Hands are shaking. I'll faint.

Lopakhin. You are very gentle, Dunyasha. And you dress like a young lady, and so does your hairstyle. You can not do it this way. We must remember ourselves.

Epikhodov enters with a bouquet; he is wearing a jacket and brightly polished boots that squeak loudly; upon entering, he drops the bouquet.

Epikhodov (picks up a bouquet). The gardener sent it, he says, to put it in the dining room. ( He gives Dunyasha a bouquet.)

Lopakhin. And bring me some kvass.

Dunyasha. I'm listening. ( Leaves.)

Epikhodov. It's morning, the frost is three degrees, and the cherry trees are all in bloom. I cannot approve of our climate. ( Sighs.) I can not. Our climate may not be conducive just right. Here, Ermolai Alekseich, let me add to you, I bought myself boots the day before, and they, I dare to assure you, squeak so much that there is no way. What should I lubricate it with?

Lopakhin. Leave me alone. Tired of it.

Epikhodov. Every day some misfortune happens to me. And I don’t complain, I’m used to it and even smile.

Dunyasha comes in and gives Lopakhin kvass.

I will go. ( He bumps into a chair, which falls.) Here... ( As if triumphant.) You see, excuse the expression, what a circumstance, by the way... This is simply wonderful! ( Leaves.)

Dunyasha. And to me, Ermolai Alekseich, I must admit, Epikhodov made an offer.

Lopakhin. A!

Dunyasha. I don’t know how... He’s a quiet man, but sometimes when he starts talking, you won’t understand anything. It’s both good and sensitive, but it’s incomprehensible. I kind of like him. He loves me madly. He is an unhappy person, something happens every day. They tease him like that: twenty-two misfortunes...

Lopakhin(listens). Looks like they're coming...

Dunyasha. They're coming! What's wrong with me... I'm completely cold.

Lopakhin. They really are going. Let's go meet. Will she recognize me? We haven't seen each other for five years.

Dunyasha (in excitement). I'm going to fall... Oh, I'm going to fall!

You can hear two carriages approaching the house. Lopakhin and Dunyasha quickly leave. The stage is empty. There is noise in the neighboring rooms. Firs, who had gone to meet Lyubov Andreevna, hurriedly passes across the stage, leaning on a stick; he is in an old livery and in a tall hat, talking to himself, but not a single word can be heard. The noise behind the stage is getting louder and louder. Voice: “Let’s walk here...” Lyubov Andreevna, Anya and Charlotte Ivanovna with a dog on a chain, dressed in travel clothes. Varya in a coat and scarf. Gaev, Simeonov-Pishchik, Lopakhin, Dunyasha with a bundle and an umbrella, a servant with things - everyone is walking through the room.

Anya. Let's go here. Do you, mom, remember which room this is?

Lyubov Andreevna (joyfully, through tears). Children's!

Varya. It’s so cold, my hands are numb. ( Lyubov Andreevna.) Your rooms, white and purple, remain the same, mommy.

Lyubov Andreevna. Children's room, my dear, beautiful room... I slept here when I was little... ( Crying.) And now I’m like little... ( He kisses his brother, Varya, then his brother again.) And Varya is still the same, she looks like a nun. And I recognized Dunyasha... ( Kisses Dunyasha.)

Gaev. The train was two hours late. What's it like? What are the procedures?

Charlotte (Pishchiku). My dog ​​also eats nuts.

Pischik (surprised). Just think!

Everyone leaves except Anya and Dunyasha.

Dunyasha. We're tired of waiting... ( You take off Anya’s coat and hat.)

Anya. I didn’t sleep on the road for four nights... now I’m very cold.

Dunyasha. You left during Lent, then there was snow, there was frost, but now? My darling! ( Laughs and kisses her.) I've been waiting for you, my joy, little light... I'll tell you now, I can't stand it for one minute...

Anya (sluggishly). Something again...

Dunyasha. The clerk Epikhodov proposed to me after the saint.

Anya. You're all about one thing... ( Straightening my hair.) I lost all my pins... ( She is very tired, even staggering.)

Dunyasha. I don't know what to think. He loves me, he loves me so much!

Anya (looks at his door, tenderly). My room, my windows, as if I never left. I'm home! Tomorrow morning I'll get up and run to the garden...

Oh, if only I could sleep! I didn’t sleep the whole way, I was tormented by anxiety.

Dunyasha. On the third day Pyotr Sergeich arrived.

Anya(joyfully). Peter!

Dunyasha. They sleep in the bathhouse and live there. I'm afraid, they say, to embarrass me. ( Looking at his pocket watch.) We should wake them up, but Varvara Mikhailovna didn’t order it. You, he says, don’t wake him up.

Varya enters, she has a bunch of keys on her belt.

Varya. Dunyasha, coffee quickly... Mommy asks for coffee.

Dunyasha. Just a minute. ( Leaves.)

Varya. Well, thank God, we've arrived. You're home again. ( Caressing.) My darling has arrived! The beauty has arrived!

Anya. I've suffered enough.

Varya. I'm imagining!

Anya. I left during Holy Week, it was cold then. Charlotte talks the whole way, performing tricks. And why did you force Charlotte on me...

Varya. You can’t go alone, darling. At seventeen!

Anya. We arrive in Paris, it’s cold and snowy. I speak French badly. Mom lives on the fifth floor, I come to her, she has some French ladies, an old priest with a book, and it’s smoky, uncomfortable. I suddenly felt sorry for my mother, so sorry, I hugged her head, squeezed her with my hands and couldn’t let go. Mom then kept caressing and crying...

Varya (through tears). Don't talk, don't talk...

Anya. She had already sold her dacha near Menton, she had nothing left, nothing. I also didn’t have a penny left, we barely got there. And mom doesn't understand! We sit down at the station for lunch, and she demands the most expensive thing and gives the footmen a ruble each as a tip. Charlotte too. Yasha also demands a portion for himself, it’s just terrible. After all, mom has a footman, Yasha, we brought him here...

Varya. I saw a scoundrel.

Anya. Well, how? Did you pay interest?

Varya. Where exactly.

Anya. My God, my God...

Varya. The estate will be sold in August...

Anya. My God...

Lopakhin (looks in the door and hums). Me-e-e... ( Leaves.)

Varya (through tears). That's how I would give it to him... ( Shakes his fist.)

Anya(hugs Varya, quietly). Varya, did he propose? ( Varya shakes her head negatively.) After all, he loves you... Why don’t you explain what you are waiting for?

Varya. I don't think anything will work out for us. He has a lot to do, he has no time for me... and he doesn’t pay attention. God bless him, it’s hard for me to see him... Everyone talks about our wedding, everyone congratulates, but in reality there is nothing, everything is like a dream... ( In a different tone.) Your brooch looks like a bee.

Anya (sadly). Mom bought this. ( He goes to his room and speaks cheerfully, like a child.) And in Paris I flew in a hot air balloon!

Varya. My darling has arrived! The beauty has arrived!

Dunyasha has already returned with a coffee pot and is making coffee.

(Stands near the door.) I, my dear, spend the whole day doing housework and keep dreaming. I would marry you off to a rich man, and then I would be at peace, I would go to the desert, then to Kyiv... to Moscow, and so on I would go to holy places... I would go and go. Splendor!..

Anya. Birds sing in the garden. What time is it now?

Varya. It must be the third one. It's time for you to sleep, darling. ( Entering Anya's room.) Splendor!

Yasha comes in with a blanket and a travel bag.

Yasha (walks across the stage, delicately). Can I go here, sir?

Dunyasha. And you won’t recognize you, Yasha. What have you become abroad?

Yasha. Hm... Who are you?

Dunyasha. When you left here, I was like this... ( Shows from the floor.) Dunyasha, Fedora Kozoedov's daughter. You do not remember!

Yasha. Hm... Cucumber! ( Looks back and hugs her; she screams and drops the saucer. Yasha quickly leaves.)

Dunyasha (through tears). I broke the saucer...

Varya. This is good.

Anya (leaving his room). I should warn my mother: Petya is here...

Varya. I ordered him not to wake him.

Anya (thoughtfully). Six years ago my father died, a month later my brother Grisha, a handsome seven-year-old boy, drowned in the river. Mom couldn’t bear it, she left, left without looking back... ( He shudders.) How I understand her, if only she knew!

Pause.

And Petya Trofimov was Grisha’s teacher, he can remind you...

Firs enters, he is wearing a jacket and a white vest.

Firs (goes to the coffee pot, worried). The lady will eat here... ( Puts on white gloves.) Is your coffee ready? ( Strictly to Dunyasha.) You! What about cream?

Dunyasha. Oh my god... ( Leaves quickly.)

Firs (fussing around the coffee pot). Oh you klutz... ( Mumbling to himself.) We came from Paris... And the master once went to Paris... on horseback... ( Laughs.)

Varya. Firs, what are you talking about?

Firs. What do you want? ( Joyfully.) My lady has arrived! Waited for it! Now at least die... ( Cries with joy.)

Enter Lyubov Andreevna, Gaev and Simeonov-Pishchik; Simeonov-Pishchik in a thin cloth undershirt and trousers. Gaev, entering, makes movements with his arms and body, as if playing billiards.

Lyubov Andreevna. Like this? Let me remember... Yellow in the corner! Doublet in the middle!

Gaev. I'm cutting into the corner! Once upon a time, you and I, sister, slept in this very room, and now I am already fifty-one years old, oddly enough...

Lopakhin. Yes, time is ticking.

Gaev. Whom?

Lopakhin. Time, I say, is ticking.

Gaev. And here it smells like patchouli.

Anya. I'll go to bed. Good night, Mom. ( Kisses mother.)

Lyubov Andreevna. My beloved child. ( He kisses her hands.) Are you glad you're home? I won't come to my senses.

Anya. Goodbye, uncle.

Gaev (kisses her face, hands). The Lord is with you. How similar you are to your mother! ( To my sister.) You, Lyuba, were exactly like that at her age.

Anya shakes hands with Lopakhin and Pishchik, leaves and closes the door behind her.

Lyubov Andreevna. She was very tired.

Pishchik. The road must be long.

Varya (Lopakhin and Pishchik). Well, gentlemen? It's the third hour, it's time to know the honor.

Lyubov Andreevna (laughs). You are still the same, Varya. ( He pulls her towards him and kisses her.) I’ll have some coffee, then we’ll all leave.

Firs puts a pillow under her feet.

Thank you dear. I'm used to coffee. I drink it day and night. Thank you, my old man. ( Kisses Firs.)

Varya. See if all the things were brought... ( Leaves.)

Lyubov Andreevna. Is it really me sitting? ( Laughs.) I want to jump and wave my arms. ( Covers his face with his hands.) What if I’m dreaming! God knows, I love my homeland, I love it dearly, I couldn’t watch from the carriage, I kept crying. ( Through tears.) However, you need to drink coffee. Thank you, Firs, thank you, my old man. I'm so glad you're still alive.

Firs. Day before yesterday.

Gaev. He doesn't hear well.

Lopakhin. I have to go to Kharkov now, at five o’clock in the morning. Such a shame! I wanted to look at you, talk... You are still just as gorgeous.

Pischik (breathing heavily). Even prettier... Dressed like a Parisian... my cart is lost, all four wheels...

Lopakhin. Your brother, Leonid Andreich, says about me that I’m a boor, I’m a kulak, but that doesn’t really matter to me. Let him talk. I only wish that you would still believe me, that your amazing, touching eyes would look at me as before. Merciful God! My father was a serf to your grandfather and father, but you, in fact, you once did so much for me that I forgot everything and love you like my own... more than my own.

Lyubov Andreevna. I can’t sit, I’m not able to... ( Jumps up and walks around in great excitement.) I won’t survive this joy... Laugh at me, I’m stupid... The closet is my dear... ( Kisses the closet.) The table is mine.

Gaev. And without you, the nanny died here.

Lyubov Andreevna (sits down and drinks coffee). Yes, the kingdom of heaven. They wrote to me.

Gaev. And Anastasy died: Petrushka Kosoy left me and now lives in the city with the bailiff. ( He takes out a box of lollipops from his pocket and sucks.)

Pishchik. My daughter, Dashenka... I bow to you...

Lopakhin. I want to tell you something very pleasant and funny. ( Looking at the clock.) I’m leaving now, I don’t have time to talk... well, I’ll say it in two or three words. You already know that your cherry orchard is being sold for debts, an auction is scheduled for August twenty-second, but don’t worry, my dear, sleep well, there is a way out... Here is my project. Attention please! Your estate is located only twenty miles from the city, there is a railroad nearby, and if the cherry orchard and the land along the river are divided into dacha plots and then rented out as dachas, then you will have at least twenty-five thousand a year in income.

Gaev. Sorry, what nonsense!

Lyubov Andreevna. I don’t quite understand you, Ermolai Alekseich.

Lopakhin. You will take the least from the summer residents, twenty-five rubles a year per tithe, and if you announce it now, then, I guarantee anything, you will not have a single free scrap left until the fall, everything will be taken away. In a word, congratulations, you are saved. The location is wonderful, the river is deep. Only, of course, we need to clean it up, clean it up... for example, say, demolish all the old buildings, this house, which is no longer good for anything, cut down the old cherry orchard...

Lyubov Andreevna. Shut down? My dear, forgive me, you don’t understand anything. If there is anything interesting, even wonderful, in the entire province, it is only our cherry orchard.

Lopakhin. The only remarkable thing about this garden is that it is very large. Cherries are born once every two years, and there’s nowhere to put them, no one buys them.

Gaev. And the Encyclopedic Dictionary mentions this garden.

Lopakhin (looking at the clock). If we don’t come up with anything and come to nothing, then on August 22 both the cherry orchard and the entire estate will be sold at auction. Make up your mind! There is no other way, I swear to you. No and no.

Firs. In the old days, about forty to fifty years ago, cherries were dried, soaked, pickled, jam was made, and it used to be...

Gaev. Shut up, Firs.

Firs. And it used to be that dried cherries were sent by cartload to Moscow and Kharkov. There was money! And dried cherries then were soft, juicy, sweet, fragrant... They knew the method then...

Lyubov Andreevna. Where is this method now?

Firs. Forgot. Nobody remembers.

Pischik (Lyubov Andreevna). What's in Paris? How? Did you eat frogs?

Lyubov Andreevna. Ate crocodiles.

Pishchik. Just think...

Lopakhin. Until now, there were only gentlemen and peasants in the village, but now there are also summer residents. All cities, even the smallest ones, are now surrounded by dachas. And we can say that in twenty years the summer resident will multiply to an extraordinary extent. Now he only drinks tea on the balcony, but it may happen that on his one tithe he will start farming, and then your cherry orchard will become happy, rich, luxurious...

Gaev (indignant). What nonsense!

Varya and Yasha enter.

Varya. Here, mommy, there are two telegrams for you. ( He selects a key and unlocks the antique cabinet with a clang.) Here they are.

Lyubov Andreevna. This is from Paris. ( Tears up telegrams without reading them.) It's over with Paris...

Gaev. Do you know, Lyuba, how old is this wardrobe? A week ago I pulled out the bottom drawer and looked and there were numbers burned into it. The cabinet was made exactly one hundred years ago. What's it like? A? We could celebrate the anniversary. An inanimate object, but still, after all, a bookcase.

Pischik (surprised) A hundred years... Just think!..

Gaev. Yes... This is a thing... ( I felt the closet.) Dear, dear closet! I greet your existence, which for more than a hundred years has been directed towards the bright ideals of goodness and justice; your silent call to fruitful work has not weakened for a hundred years, supporting ( through tears) in generations of our kind, vigor, faith in a better future and nurturing in us the ideals of goodness and social self-awareness.

Pause.

Lopakhin. Yes...

Lyubov Andreevna. You are still the same, Lenya.

Gaev (a little confused). From the ball to the right into the corner! I'm cutting it to medium!

Lopakhin (looking at his watch). Well, I have to go.

Yasha (gives Lyubov Andreevna medicines). Maybe you should take some pills now...

Pishchik. There is no need to take medications, dear... they do no harm or good... Give it here... dear. ( He takes the pills, pours them into his palm, blows on them, puts them in his mouth and washes them down with kvass.) Here!

Lyubov Andreevna (scared). You're crazy!

Pishchik. I took all the pills.

Lopakhin. What a mess.

Everyone laughs.

Firs. They were at our holy day, they ate half a bucket of cucumbers... ( Mumbling.)

Lyubov Andreevna. What is he talking about?

Varya. He's been mumbling like this for three years now. We're used to it.

Yasha. Advanced age.

Charlotte Ivanovna in a white dress, very thin, tight-fitting, with a lorgnette on her belt, walks across the stage.

Lopakhin. Sorry, Charlotte Ivanovna, I haven’t had time to say hello to you yet. ( He wants to kiss her hand.)

Charlotte (taking your hand away). If I let you kiss my hand, you will then wish on the elbow, then on the shoulder...

Lopakhin. I'm having no luck today.

Everyone laughs.

Charlotte Ivanovna, show me the trick!

Lyubov Andreevna. Charlotte, show me a trick!

Charlotte. No need. I want to sleep. ( Leaves.)

Lopakhin. See you in three weeks. ( Kisses Lyubov Andreevna's hand.) Goodbye for now. It's time. ( Gaev.) Goodbye. ( Kisses with Pishchik.) Goodbye. ( He gives his hand to Varya, then to Firs and Yasha.) I don’t want to leave. ( Lyubov Andreevna.) If you think about dachas and decide, then let me know, I’ll get you a loan of fifty thousand. Seriously think about it.

Varya (angrily). Yes, finally leave!

Lopakhin. I'm leaving, I'm leaving... (Leaves.)

Gaev. Ham. However, sorry... Varya is marrying him, this is Varya’s groom.

Varya. Don't say too much, uncle.

Lyubov Andreevna. Well, Varya, I will be very glad. He is a good man.

Pishchik. Man, we must tell the truth... the most worthy... And my Dashenka... also says that... she says different words. ( He snores, but wakes up immediately.) But still, dear lady, lend me... a loan of two hundred and forty rubles... pay interest on the mortgage tomorrow...

Varya (scared). No, no!

Lyubov Andreevna. I really have nothing.

Pishchik. There will be some. ( Laughs.) I never lose hope. Now, I think, everything is gone, I’m dead, and lo and behold, the railroad passed through my land, and... they paid me. And then, look, something else will happen not today or tomorrow... Dashenka will win two hundred thousand... she has a ticket.

Lyubov Andreevna. The coffee is drunk, you can rest.

Firs (cleans Gaeva with a brush, instructively). They put on the wrong pants again. And what should I do with you!

Varya (quiet). Anya is sleeping. ( Quietly opens the window.) The sun has already risen, it’s not cold. Look, mommy: what wonderful trees! My God, the air! The starlings are singing!

Gaev (opens another window). The garden is all white. Have you forgotten, Lyuba? This long alley goes straight, straight, like a stretched belt, it sparkles on moonlit nights. Do you remember? Have you forgotten?

Lyubov Andreevna (looking out the window at the garden). Oh my childhood, my purity! I slept in this nursery, looked at the garden from here, happiness woke up with me every morning, and then it was exactly the same, nothing has changed. ( Laughs with joy.) All, all white! O my garden! After a dark stormy autumn and a cold winter, you are young again, full of happiness, the heavenly angels have not abandoned you... If only I could take the heavy stone off my chest and shoulders, if only I could forget my past!

Gaev. Yes, and the garden will be sold for debts, oddly enough...

Lyubov Andreevna. Look, the late mother is walking through the garden... in a white dress! ( Laughs with joy.) That's her.

Gaev. Where?

Varya. The Lord is with you, mommy.

Lyubov Andreevna. There is no one, it seemed to me. To the right, at the turn towards the gazebo, a white tree bent over, looking like a woman...

Trofimov enters in a worn student uniform and glasses.

What an amazing garden! White masses of flowers, blue sky...

Trofimov. Lyubov Andreevna!

She looked back at him.

I will just bow to you and leave immediately. ( He kisses his hand warmly.) I was ordered to wait until the morning, but I didn’t have enough patience...

Lyubov Andreevna looks in bewilderment.

Varya (through tears). This is Petya Trofimov...

Trofimov. Petya Trofimov, your former teacher Grisha... Have I really changed that much?

Lyubov Andreevna hugs him and quietly cries.

Gaev (embarrassed). Full, full, Lyuba.

Varya (crying). I told you, Petya, to wait until tomorrow.

Lyubov Andreevna. Grisha is my... my boy... Grisha... son...

Varya. What should I do, mommy? God's will.

Trofimov (softly, through tears). It will be, it will be...

Lyubov Andreevna (crying quietly). The boy died, drowned... Why? For what, my friend? ( Quiet.) Anya is sleeping there, and I’m talking loudly... making noise... What, Petya? Why are you so stupid? Why have you aged?

Trofimov. One woman in the carriage called me this: shabby gentleman.

Lyubov Andreevna. You were just a boy then, a cute student, and now you have sparse hair and glasses. Are you still a student? ( He goes to the door.)

Trofimov. I must be a perpetual student.

Lyubov Andreevna (kisses his brother, then Varya). Well, go to sleep... You too have aged, Leonid.

Pischik (goes after her). So, now to sleep... Oh, my gout. I’ll stay with you... I would like, Lyubov Andreevna, my soul, tomorrow morning... two hundred and forty rubles.

Gaev. And this one is all his own.

Pishchik. Two hundred and forty rubles... to pay interest on the mortgage.

Lyubov Andreevna. I have no money, my dear.

Pishchik. I'll give it back, honey... The amount is trivial...

Lyubov Andreevna. Well, okay, Leonid will give... You give it, Leonid.

Gaev. I'll give it to him, keep your pocket.

Lyubov Andreevna. What to do, give it... He needs... He will give it.

Lyubov Andreevna, Trofimov, Pischik and Firs leave. Gaev, Varya and Yasha remain.

Gaev. My sister has not yet gotten out of the habit of wasting money. ( Yashe.) Move away, my dear, you smell like chicken.

Yasha (with a grin). And you, Leonid Andreich, are still the same as you were.

Gaev. Whom? ( Vare.) What did he say?

Varya (Yasha). Your mother came from the village, has been sitting in the common room since yesterday, wants to see you...

Yasha. God bless her!

Varya. Ah, shameless!

Yasha. Very necessary. I could come tomorrow. ( Leaves.)

Varya. Mommy is the same as she was, hasn’t changed at all. If she had her way, she would give everything away.

Gaev. Yes...

Pause.

If a lot of remedies are offered against a disease, this means that the disease is incurable. I think, I’m racking my brains, I have a lot of money, a lot, and that means, in essence, none. It would be nice to receive an inheritance from someone, it would be nice to marry our Anya to a very rich man, it would be nice to go to Yaroslavl and try his luck with the aunt countess. My aunt is very, very rich.

Varya (crying). If only God would help.

Gaev. Do not Cry. My aunt is very rich, but she doesn’t love us. My sister, firstly, married a lawyer, not a nobleman...

Anya appears at the door.

She married a non-nobleman and behaved in a manner that cannot be said to be very virtuous. She is good, kind, nice, I love her very much, but no matter how you come up with mitigating circumstances, I still have to admit that she is vicious. This is felt in her slightest movement.

Varya (in a whisper). Anya is standing at the door.

Gaev. Whom?

Pause.

Surprisingly, something got into my right eye... I couldn’t see well. And on Thursday, when I was in district court...

Anya enters.

Varya. Why aren't you sleeping, Anya?

Anya. Can't sleep. I can not.

Gaev. My baby. ( Kisses Anya's face and hands.) My child... ( Through tears.) You are not my niece, you are my angel, you are everything to me. Believe me, believe...

Anya. I believe you, uncle. Everyone loves and respects you... but, dear uncle, you need to be silent, just silent. What did you just say about my mother, about your sister? Why did you say this?

Gaev. Yes Yes... ( She covers her face with her hand.) Indeed, this is terrible! My God! God save me! And today I gave a speech in front of the closet... so stupid! And only when I finished did I realize that it was stupid.

Varya. Really, uncle, you should be silent. Keep quiet, that's all.

Anya. If you remain silent, then you yourself will be calmer.

Gaev. I'm silent. ( Kisses Anya and Varya's hands.) I'm silent. Just about the matter. On Thursday I was in the district court, well, the company got together, a conversation began about this and that, fifth and tenth, and it seems that it will be possible to arrange a loan against bills to pay interest to the bank.

Varya. If only God would help!

Gaev. I'll go on Tuesday and talk again. ( Vare.) Do not Cry. ( But not.) Your mother will talk to Lopakhin; he, of course, will not refuse her... And when you have rested, you will go to Yaroslavl to see the countess, your grandmother. This is how we will act from three ends - and our job is in the bag. We will pay the interest, I am convinced... ( He puts a lollipop in his mouth.) On my honor, whatever you want, I swear, the estate will not be sold! ( Excitedly.) I swear on my happiness! Here's my hand to you, then call me a crappy, dishonest person if I allow it to the auction! I swear with all my being!

Anya (the calm mood has returned to her, she is happy). How good you are, uncle, how smart! ( Hugs his uncle.) I'm at peace now! I'm at peace! I'm happy!

Firs enters.

Firs (reproachfully). Leonid Andreich, you are not afraid of God! When should you sleep?

Gaev. Now. You go away, Firs. So be it, I’ll undress myself. Well, kids, bye-bye... Details tomorrow, now go to bed. ( Kisses Anya and Varya.) I am a man of the eighties... They don’t praise this time, but I can still say that I got a lot in my life for my beliefs. No wonder the man loves me. You need to know the guy! You need to know which...

Anya. You again, uncle!

Varya. You, uncle, remain silent.

Firs (angrily). Leonid Andreich!

Gaev. I'm coming, I'm coming... Lie down. From two sides to the middle! I put clean... ( He leaves, followed by Firs.)

Anya. I'm at peace now. I don’t want to go to Yaroslavl, I don’t like my grandmother, but I’m still at peace. Thanks uncle. ( Sits down.)

Varya. Need sleep. I'll go. And here without you there was displeasure. In the old servants' quarters, as you know, only old servants live: Efimyushka, Polya, Evstigney, and Karp. They began to let some rogues spend the night with them - I remained silent. Only now, I hear, they spread a rumor that I ordered them to be fed only peas. From stinginess, you see... And this is all Evstigney... Okay, I think. If so, I think, then wait. I call Evstigney...( Yawns.) He comes... What about you, I say, Evstigney... you are such a fool... ( Looking at Anya.) Anechka!..

Pause.

I fell asleep!.. ( He takes Anya's hand.) Let's go to bed... Let's go!.. ( Leads her.) My darling fell asleep! Let's go to...

They're coming.

Far beyond the garden, a shepherd plays the pipe. Trofimov walks across the stage and, seeing Varya and Anya, stops.

Varya. Tess... She's sleeping... sleeping... Let's go, dear.

Anya (quietly, half asleep). I'm so tired... all the bells... Uncle... dear... and mom and uncle...

Varya. Let's go, dear, let's go... ( They go to Anya’s room.).

Trofimov (in emotion). My sun! My spring!

A curtain.

Act two

Field. An old, crooked, long-abandoned chapel, next to it there is a well, large stones that were apparently once gravestones, and an old bench. The road to Gaev's estate is visible. To the side, towering, the poplars darken: that’s where the cherry orchard begins. In the distance there is a row of telegraph poles, and far, far away on the horizon it is vaguely indicated Big city, which is visible only in very good, clear weather. The sun will set soon. Charlotte, Yasha and Dunyasha are sitting on a bench; Epikhodov stands nearby and plays the guitar; everyone sits thinking. Charlotte is wearing an old cap, she has taken the gun off her shoulders and is adjusting her belt buckle.

Charlotte (in thought). I don’t have a real passport, I don’t know how old I am, and it still seems to me that I’m young. When I was a little girl, my father and mother went to fairs and gave performances, very good ones. And I did salto-mortale jumps and various things. And when my father and mother died, a German lady took me in and began to teach me. Fine. I grew up, then became a governess. And where I come from and who I am, I don’t know... Who are my parents, maybe they didn’t get married... I don’t know. ( He takes a cucumber out of his pocket and eats it.) I do not know anything.

Pause.

I really want to talk, but not with anyone... I don’t have anyone.

Epikhodov (plays the guitar and sings.) "What do I care about the noisy light, what are my friends and enemies..." How pleasant it is to play the mandolin!

Dunyasha. It's a guitar, not a mandolin. ( She looks in the mirror and powders herself.)

Epikhodov. For the madman who is in love, this is the mandolin... ( Humming.) "If my heart were warmed by the heat of mutual love..."

Yasha sings along.

Charlotte. These people sing terribly... ugh! Like jackals.

Dunyasha (Yasha). Still, what a joy it is to visit abroad.

Yasha. Yes, sure. I couldn't agree more with you. ( He yawns, then lights a cigar.)

Epikhodov. Of course. Abroad, everything has long been in full swing.

Yasha. By itself.

Epikhodov. I am a developed person, I read various wonderful books, but I just can’t understand the direction of what I actually want, whether I should live or shoot myself, strictly speaking, but nevertheless I always carry a revolver with me. Here he is... ( Shows a revolver.)

Charlotte. I finished. I'll go now. ( Puts on a gun.) You, Epikhodov, are very clever man and very scary; Women should love you madly. Brrr! ( It's coming.) These smart guys are all so stupid, I have no one to talk to... All alone, alone, I have no one and... and who I am, why I am, is unknown... ( He leaves slowly.)

Epikhodov. Strictly speaking, without touching on other subjects, I must express myself, among other things, that fate treats me without regret, like a storm treats a small ship. If, let’s say, I’m mistaken, then why did I wake up this morning, for example, and look, and there’s a scary-sized spider on my chest... Like this. ( Shows with both hands.) And you also take kvass to get drunk, and then, you look, there’s something in highest degree indecent, like a cockroach.

Pause.

Have you read Buckle?

Pause.

I would like to bother you, Avdotya Fedorovna, with a few words.

Dunyasha. Speak.

Epikhodov. I would prefer to be alone with you... ( Sighs.)

Dunyasha (embarrassed). Okay... just bring me my little talma first... It's near the closet... it's a little damp here...

Epikhodov. Okay... I'll bring it... Now I know what to do with my revolver... ( He takes the guitar and leaves, strumming.)

Yasha. Twenty-two misfortunes! Stupid man, just between you and me. ( Yawns.)

Dunyasha. God forbid, he shoots himself.

Pause.

I became anxious, I kept worrying. I was taken to the masters as a girl, I was now unaccustomed to simple life, and now my hands are white, white, like a young lady’s. She has become tender, so delicate, noble, I’m afraid of everything... It’s so scary. And if you, Yasha, deceive me, then I don’t know what will happen to my nerves.

Yasha (kisses her). Cucumber! Of course, every girl must remember herself, and what I dislike most is if a girl has bad behavior.

Dunyasha. I fell in love with you passionately, you are educated, you can talk about everything.

Pause.

Yasha (yawns). Yes, sir... In my opinion, it’s like this: if a girl loves someone, then she is immoral.

Pause.

It's nice to smoke a cigar in the fresh air... ( Listens.) Here they come... These are gentlemen...

Dunyasha impulsively hugs him.

Go home, as if you went to the river to swim, follow this path, otherwise they will meet and think about me, as if I were on a date with you. I can't stand it.

Dunyasha (coughs quietly). The cigar gave me a headache... ( Leaves.)

Yasha remains, sitting near the chapel. Lyubov Andreevna, Gaev and Lopakhin enter.

Lopakhin. We must finally decide - time is running out. The question is completely empty. Do you agree to give up the land for dachas or not? Answer in one word: yes or no? Just one word!

Lyubov Andreevna. Who is this here smoking disgusting cigars... ( Sits down.)

Gaev. Now the railway was built, and it became convenient. ( Sits down.) We went into town and had breakfast... yellow in the middle! I should first go into the house and play one game...

Lyubov Andreevna. You'll have time.

Lopakhin. Just one word! ( Pleadingly.) Give me the answer!

Gaev (yawning). Whom?

Lyubov Andreevna (looking in his wallet). Yesterday there was a lot of money, but today there is very little. My poor Varya, to save money, feeds everyone milk soup, in the kitchen the old people are given one pea, and I spend it somehow senselessly. ( She dropped her wallet and scattered the gold coins.) Well, they started falling... ( She's annoyed.)

Yasha. Let me pick it up now. ( Collects coins.)

Lyubov Andreevna. Please, Yasha. And why did I go to breakfast... Your restaurant is trashy with music, the tablecloths smell of soap... Why drink so much, Lenya? Why eat so much? Why talk so much? Today in the restaurant you spoke a lot again and all inappropriately. About the seventies, about the decadents. And to whom? Sexual talk about decadents!

Lopakhin. Yes.

Gaev (waves his hand). I'm incorrigible, that's obvious... ( Yasha is irritated.) What is it, you constantly spin before your eyes...

Yasha (laughs). I can't hear your voice without laughing.

Gaev (sister). Either me or him...

Lyubov Andreevna. Go away, Yasha, go...

Yasha (gives Lyubov Andreevna his wallet). I'll leave now. ( He can barely contain his laughter.) This minute... (Leaves.)

Lopakhin. The rich man Deriganov is going to buy your estate. They say he will come to the auction in person.

Lyubov Andreevna. Where did you hear from?

Lopakhin. They're talking in the city.

Gaev. The Yaroslavl aunt promised to send, but when and how much she will send is unknown...

Lopakhin. How much will she send? One hundred thousand? Two hundred?

Lyubov Andreevna. Well... Ten to fifteen thousand, and thanks for that.

Lopakhin. Forgive me, I have never met such frivolous people like you, gentlemen, such unbusinesslike, strange people. They tell you in Russian, your estate is for sale, but you definitely don’t understand.

Lyubov Andreevna. What do we do? Teach what?

Lopakhin. I teach you every day. Every day I say the same thing. Both the cherry orchard and the land must be rented out for dachas, this must be done now, as quickly as possible - the auction is just around the corner! Understand! Once you finally decide to have dachas, they will give you as much money as you want, and then you are saved.

Lyubov Andreevna. Dachas and summer residents - it's so vulgar, sorry.

Gaev. I completely agree with you.

Lopakhin. I will either burst into tears, or scream, or faint. I can not! You tortured me! ( Gaev.) Baba you!

Gaev. Whom?

Lopakhin. Woman! ( Wants to leave.)

Lyubov Andreevna (scared). No, don't go, stay, darling. I ask you to. Maybe we'll think of something!

Lopakhin. What is there to think about!

Lyubov Andreevna. Don't leave, please. It's still more fun with you...

Pause.

I keep waiting for something, as if the house was about to collapse above us.

Gaev (in deep thought). Doublet in the corner...Croiset in the middle...

Lyubov Andreevna. We have sinned too much...

Lopakhin. What are your sins...

Gaev (puts a lollipop in his mouth). They say that I spent my entire fortune on candy... ( Laughs.)

Lyubov Andreevna. Oh, my sins... I always wasted money like crazy, and I married a man who made only debts. My husband died from champagne - he drank terribly - and, unfortunately, I fell in love with someone else, got together, and just at that time - this was the first punishment, a blow straight to the head - right here on the river... he drowned my boy, and I went abroad, completely left, never to return, never to see this river... I closed my eyes, ran, not remembering myself, and he followed me... mercilessly, rudely. I bought a dacha near Menton because he fell ill there, and for three years I did not know rest, day or night; the sick man has tormented me, my soul has dried up. And last year, when the dacha was sold for debts, I went to Paris, and there he robbed me, abandoned me, got along with someone else, I tried to poison myself... So stupid, so shameful... And suddenly I was drawn to Russia, to my homeland , to my girl... ( Wipes away tears.) Lord, Lord, be merciful, forgive me my sins! Don't punish me anymore! ( He takes a telegram out of his pocket.) Received it today from Paris... Asks for forgiveness, begs to come back... ( Tears up the telegram.) It’s like there’s music somewhere. ( Listens.)

Gaev. This is our famous Jewish orchestra. Remember, four violins, a flute and a double bass.

Lyubov Andreevna. Does it still exist? We should invite him over sometime and arrange an evening.

Lopakhin (listens). Can't hear... ( He hums quietly.) “And the Germans will Frenchize the hare for money.” ( Laughs.) The play I saw in the theater yesterday was very funny.

Lyubov Andreevna. And probably nothing is funny. You shouldn’t watch plays, but rather look at yourself more often. How you all live in a gray way, how much you say unnecessary things.

Lopakhin. This is true. We must say frankly, our life is stupid...

Pause.

My dad was a man, an idiot, he didn’t understand anything, he didn’t teach me, he just beat me when he was drunk, and that was with a stick. In essence, I’m just as much of a blockhead and an idiot. I haven’t studied anything, my handwriting is bad, I write in such a way that people are ashamed of me, like a pig.

Lyubov Andreevna. You need to get married, my friend.

Lopakhin. Yes it's true.

Lyubov Andreevna. On our Vara. She's a good girl.

Lopakhin. Yes.

Lyubov Andreevna. She is one of the simple ones, she works all day, and most importantly, she loves you. Yes, and you’ve liked it for a long time.

Lopakhin. What? I wouldn't mind... She's a good girl.

Pause.

Gaev. They offer me a position at the bank. Six thousand a year...Have you heard?

Lyubov Andreevna. Where are you! Just sit down.

Firs enters; he brought a coat.

Firs (Gaev). If you please, sir, put it on, it’s damp.

Gaev (puts on his coat). I'm tired of you, brother.

Firs. There’s nothing there... We left in the morning without saying anything. ( Looks at him.)

Lyubov Andreevna. How you have aged, Firs!

Firs. What do you want?

Lopakhin. They say you have grown very old!

Firs. I've been living for a long time. They were going to marry me, but your dad was not yet alive... ( Laughs.) But the will came out, I was already a senior valet. Then I did not agree to freedom, I stayed with the masters...

Pause.

And I remember everyone is happy, but they themselves don’t know what they’re happy about.

Lopakhin. It was very good before. At least they fought.

Firs (without hearing). And still. The men are with the gentlemen, the gentlemen are with the peasants, and now everything is fragmented, you won’t understand anything.

Gaev. Shut up, Firs. Tomorrow I need to go to the city. They promised to introduce me to a general who could give me a bill.

Lopakhin. Nothing will work out for you. And you won’t pay interest, rest assured.

Lyubov Andreevna. He's delusional. There are no generals.

Trofimov, Anya and Varya enter.

Gaev. And here come ours.

Anya. Mom is sitting.

Lyubov Andreevna (gently). Go, go... My dears... ( Hugging Anya and Varya.) If you both knew how much I love you. Sit down, next to me, like this.

Everyone sits down.

Lopakhin. Our eternal student always goes out with young ladies.

Trofimov. None of your business.

Lopakhin. He will be fifty years old soon, but he is still a student.

Trofimov. Leave your stupid jokes.

Lopakhin. Why are you angry, weirdo?

Trofimov. Don't bother me.

Lopakhin. (laughs). Let me ask you, how do you understand me?

Trofimov. I, Ermolai Alekseich, understand this: you are a rich man, you will soon be a millionaire. Just as in terms of metabolism you need a predatory beast that eats everything that gets in its way, so you are needed.

Everyone laughs.

Varya. You, Petya, tell us better about the planets.

Lyubov Andreevna. No, let's continue yesterday's conversation.

Trofimov. What is it about?

Gaev. About a proud man.

Trofimov. We talked for a long time yesterday, but came to nothing. There is something mystical in a proud person, in your sense. Perhaps you are right in your own way, but if you think simply, without any pretense, then what kind of pride is there, is there any meaning in it, if a person is not physiologically structured, if the vast majority of them are rude, stupid, deeply unhappy. We need to stop admiring ourselves. We just need to work.

Gaev. You'll die anyway.

Trofimov. Who knows? And what does it mean to die? Perhaps a person has a hundred senses and with death only five known to us perish, while the remaining ninety-five remain alive.

Lyubov Andreevna. How smart you are, Petya!..

Lopakhin (ironically). Passion!

Trofimov. Humanity moves forward, improving its strength. Everything that is out of reach for him now will someday become close and understandable, but he must work and help with all his might those who are seeking the truth. Here, in Russia, very few people still work. The vast majority of the intelligentsia that I know does not seek anything, does nothing, and is not yet capable of work. They call themselves intellectuals, but they say “you” to the servants, they treat men like animals, they study poorly, they don’t read anything seriously, they do absolutely nothing, they only talk about science, they understand little about art. Everyone is serious, everyone has stern faces, everyone talks only about important things, philosophizes, and yet in front of everyone the workers eat disgustingly, sleep without pillows, thirty, forty in one room, there are bedbugs everywhere, stench, dampness, moral uncleanness. .. And, obviously, all the good conversations we have are just to avert the eyes of ourselves and others. Tell me where we have the nursery, which is talked about so much and often, where are the reading rooms? They are only written about in novels, but in reality they don’t exist at all. There is only dirt, vulgarity, Asian... I am afraid and do not like very serious faces, I am afraid of serious conversations. Let's keep quiet!

Lopakhin. You know, I get up at five o’clock in the morning, work from morning to evening, well, I always have my own money and other people’s, and I see what kind of people are around me. You just have to start doing something to understand how few honest, decent people there are. Sometimes, when I can’t sleep, I think: “Lord, you gave us huge forests, vast fields, the deepest horizons, and living here, we ourselves should really be giants...”

Lyubov Andreevna. You needed giants... They are only good in fairy tales, but they are so scary.

Epikhodov passes at the back of the stage and plays the guitar.

(Thoughtfully.) Epikhodov is coming...

Anya (thoughtfully). Epikhodov is coming...

Gaev. The sun has set, gentlemen.

Trofimov. Yes.

Gaev (quietly, as if reciting). O wonderful nature, you shine with eternal radiance, beautiful and indifferent, you, whom we call mother, combine being and death, you live and destroy...

Varya (pleadingly). Uncle!

Anya. Uncle, you again!

Trofimov. You are better off with yellow in the middle as a doublet.

Gaev. I'm silent, I'm silent.

Everyone is sitting, thinking. Silence. You can only hear Firs quietly muttering. Suddenly a distant sound is heard, as if from the sky, the sound of a broken string, fading, sad.

Lyubov Andreevna. What's this?

Lopakhin. Don't know. Somewhere far away in the mines a tub fell off. But somewhere very far away.

Gaev. Or maybe some kind of bird... like a heron.

Trofimov. Or an owl...

Lyubov Andreevna (flinches). It's unpleasant for some reason.

Pause.

Firs. Before the disaster, it was the same: the owl was screaming, and the samovar was humming uncontrollably.

Gaev. Before what misfortune?

Firs. Before the will.

Pause.

Lyubov Andreevna. You know, friends, let's go, it's already getting dark. ( But not.) There are tears in your eyes... What are you doing, girl? ( Hugs her.)

Anya. That's right, mom. Nothing.

Trofimov. Someone is coming.

A passerby appears in a shabby white cap and coat; he is slightly drunk.

Passerby. Let me ask you, can I go straight to the station here?

Gaev. You can. Follow this road.

Passerby. I am deeply grateful to you. ( Coughing.) The weather is excellent... ( Recites.) My brother, suffering brother... go out to the Volga, whose groan... ( Vare.) Mademoiselle, give the hungry Russian thirty kopecks...

Varya got scared and screamed.

Lopakhin (angrily). Every ugliness has its decency!

Lyubov Andreevna (dumbfounded). Take... here you go... ( He's looking in his wallet.) There is no silver... Anyway, here's a gold one...

Passerby. Dearly grateful to you! ( Leaves.)

Laughter.

Varya (scared). I'll leave... I'll leave... Oh, mommy, people at home have nothing to eat, but you gave him a gold piece.

Lyubov Andreevna. What should I do with me, stupid! I'll give you everything I have at home. Ermolai Alekseich, lend me more!..

Lopakhin. I'm listening.

Lyubov Andreevna. Come on, gentlemen, it's time. And here, Varya, we have completely matched you, congratulations.

Varya (through tears). This, Mom, is no joke.

Lopakhin. Okhmelia, go to the monastery...

Gaev. And my hands are shaking: I haven’t played billiards for a long time.

Lopakhin. Oxmelia, oh nymph, remember me in your prayers!

Lyubov Andreevna. Let's go, gentlemen. It's time to have dinner soon.

Varya. He scared me. My heart is still beating.

Lopakhin. I remind you, gentlemen: on the twenty-second of August the cherry orchard will be for sale. Think about it!.. Think!..

Everyone leaves except Trofimov and Anya.

Anya (laughing). Thanks to the passerby, I scared Varya, now we are alone.

Trofimov. Varya is afraid that we might fall in love with each other, and she doesn’t leave our side for whole days. With her narrow head, she cannot understand that we are above love. To bypass those small and illusory things that prevent us from being free and happy, this is the goal and meaning of our life. Forward! We are moving uncontrollably towards the bright star that is burning there in the distance! Forward! Don't lag behind, friends!

Anya (throwing up his hands). How well you speak!

Pause.

It's wonderful here today!

Trofimov. Yes, the weather is amazing.

Anya. What have you done to me, Petya, why do I no longer love the cherry orchard as before? I loved him so tenderly, it seemed to me that there was no one on earth better place like our garden.

Trofimov. All Russia is our garden. The earth is great and beautiful, there are many wonderful places on it.

Pause.

Think, Anya: your grandfather, great-grandfather and all your ancestors were serf owners who owned living souls, and don’t human beings look at you from every cherry tree in the garden, from every leaf, from every trunk, don’t you really hear voices... Own living souls - after all, this has reborn all of you, who lived before and are now living, so that your mother, you, and uncle no longer notice that you are living in debt, at someone else’s expense, at the expense of those people whom you do not allow beyond the front hall.. We are at least two hundred years behind, we still have absolutely nothing, no definite attitude towards the past, we only philosophize, complain about melancholy or drink vodka. After all, it is so clear that in order to begin to live in the present, we must first atone for our past, put an end to it, and we can atone for it only through suffering, only through extraordinary, continuous labor. Understand this, Anya.

Anya. The house in which we live is no longer our home, and I will leave, I give you my word.

Trofimov. If you have the keys to the farm, then throw them into the well and leave. Be free like the wind.

Anya (excited). How well you said it!

Trofimov. Believe me, Anya, believe me! I’m not yet thirty, I’m young, I’m still a student, but I’ve already endured so much! Like winter, I am hungry, sick, anxious, poor, like a beggar, and - wherever fate has driven me, wherever I have been! And yet my soul was always, at every moment, day and night, full of inexplicable forebodings. I have a presentiment of happiness, Anya, I already see it...

Anya (thoughtfully). The moon is rising.

You can hear Epikhodov playing the same sad song on the guitar. The moon is rising. Somewhere near the poplars, Varya is looking for Anya and calling: “Anya! Where are you?”

Trofimov. Yes, the moon is rising.

Pause.

Here it is, happiness, here it comes, coming closer and closer, I can already hear its steps. And if we don’t see him, don’t recognize him, then what’s the harm? Others will see it!

This Varya again! ( Angrily) Outrageous!

Anya. Well? Let's go to the river. It's nice there.

Trofimov. Let's go.

A curtain.

Act three

Living room separated by an arch from the hall. The chandelier is on. You can hear the Jewish orchestra playing in the hallway, the same one mentioned in the second act. Evening. Grand-rond dancers are dancing in the hall. Voice of Simeonov-Pishchik: “Promenade a une paire!” They go out into the living room: in the first couple are Pishchik and Charlotte Ivanovna, in the second are Trofimov and Lyubov Andreevna, in the third are Anya and the postal official, in the fourth are Varya and the station chief, etc. Varya is quietly crying and, dancing, wipes away her tears. In the last pair is Dunyasha. They walk through the living room. Pishchik shouts: “Grand-rond balancez!” and "Les cavaliers a genoux et remerciez vos dames!" ( French expressions - names of dance figures and addresses when dancing).

Firs in a tailcoat brings seltzer water on a tray.

Pischik and Trofimov enter the living room.

Pishchik. I’m full-blooded, I’ve already been hit twice, it’s difficult to dance, but, as they say, I’m in the pack, don’t bark, just wag your tail. My health is that of a horse. My late parent, a joker, the kingdom of heaven, spoke about our origin as if our ancient family of Simeonov-Pishchikov descended from the very horse that Caligula planted in the Senate... ( Sits down.) But here's the problem: there is no money! A hungry dog ​​believes only in meat... ( He snores and immediately wakes up.) So I... I can only talk about money...

Trofimov. There really is something horse-like about your figure.

Pishchik. Well... the horse is a good animal... the horse can be sold...

You can hear billiards being played in the next room. Varya appears in the hall under the arch.

Trofimov (teases). Madame Lopakhina! Madame Lopakhina!..

Varya (angrily). Shabby gentleman!

Trofimov. Yes, I’m a shabby gentleman and I’m proud of it!

Varya (in bitter thought). So they hired musicians, but how do they pay? ( Leaves.)

Trofimov (Pishchiku). If the energy you spent all your life looking for money to pay interest on was spent on something else, you might end up moving the earth.

Pishchik. Nietzsche... philosopher... the greatest, most famous... man of enormous intelligence, says in his writings that it is possible to make false papers.

Trofimov. Have you read Nietzsche?

Pishchik. Well...Dasha told me. And now I’m in such a situation that at least make fake papers... The day after tomorrow I’ll pay three hundred and ten rubles... I’ve already got one hundred and thirty... ( Feels his pockets anxiously.) The money is gone! Lost money! ( Through tears.) Where's the money? ( Joyfully.) Here they are, behind the lining... It even made me sweat...

Lyubov Andreevna and Charlotte Ivanovna enter.

Lyubov Andreevna (hums lezginka). Why has Leonid been gone for so long? What is he doing in the city? ( Dunyasha.) Dunyasha, offer the musicians some tea...

Trofimov. The auction did not take place, in all likelihood.

Lyubov Andreevna. And the musicians came at the wrong time, and we started the ball at the wrong time... Well, nothing... ( He sits down and hums quietly.)

Charlotte (hands Pishchik a deck of cards). Here is a deck of cards, think of one card.

Pishchik. I thought about it.

Charlotte. Now shuffle the deck. Very good. Give it here, oh my dear Mr. Pishchik. Ein, zwei, drei! ( One two Three! (German)) Now look, it’s in your side pocket...

Pischik (takes a card out of his side pocket). Eight of spades, absolutely right! ( Wondering.) Just think!

Charlotte (holds a deck of cards in his palm, Trofimova). Tell me quickly, which card is on top?

Trofimov. Well? Well, queen of spades.

Charlotte. Eat! ( Pishchiku.) Well? Which card is on top?

Pishchik. Ace of hearts.

Charlotte. Eat! ( It hits the palm, the deck of cards disappears.) And what good weather today!

Station Manager (applauds). Madam Ventriloquist, bravo!

Pischik (surprised). Just think! The most charming Charlotte Ivanovna... I'm just in love...

Charlotte. In love? ( Shrugging.) Can you love? Guter Mensch, aber schlechter Musikant ( A good person, but a bad musician (German)).

Trofimov (pats Pishchik on the shoulder). You are such a horse...

Charlotte. Please pay attention, one more trick. ( He takes a blanket from the chair.) Here is a very good blanket, I want to sell... ( Shakes.) Does anyone want to buy?

Pischik (surprised). Just think!

Charlotte. Ein, zwei, drei! ( He quickly picks up the lowered blanket.)

Anya is standing behind the blanket; she curtsies, runs to her mother, hugs her and runs back into the hall with general delight.

Lyubov Andreevna (applauds). Bravo, bravo!..

Charlotte. Now more! Ein, zwei, drei! ( He lifts the blanket.)

Varya stands behind the blanket and bows.

Pischik(surprised). Just think!

Charlotte. End! ( He throws the blanket on Pishchik, curtsies and runs into the hall.)

Pischik (hurries after her). The villain... what? What is it? ( Leaves.)

Lyubov Andreevna. But Leonid is still missing. I don’t understand what he’s been doing in the city for so long! After all, everything is already over there, the estate has been sold or the auction did not take place, why keep it in the dark for so long!

Varya (trying to console her). Uncle bought it, I'm sure of it.

Trofimov (mockingly). Yes.

Varya. The grandmother sent him a power of attorney so that he could buy in her name with the transfer of the debt. This is her for Anya. And I’m sure God will help, my uncle will buy it.

Lyubov Andreevna. The Yaroslavl grandmother sent fifteen thousand to buy the estate in her name - she doesn’t believe us - and this money would not even be enough to pay the interest. ( Covers his face with his hands.) Today my fate is decided, fate...

Trofimov (teases Varya). Madame Lopakhina!

Varya (angrily). Eternal student! I have already been fired from the university twice.

Lyubov Andreevna. Why are you angry, Varya? He teases you about Lopakhin, so what? If you want, marry Lopakhin, he is a good, interesting person. If you don't want to, don't go out; no one is forcing you, darling...

Varya. I look at this matter seriously, Mommy, we must speak directly. He's a good person, I like him.

Varya. Mommy, I can’t propose to him myself. For two years now, everyone has been telling me about him, everyone is talking, but he is either silent or joking. I understand. He is getting rich, busy with business, he has no time for me. If I had money, even a little, even a hundred rubles, I would have given up everything and gone away. I would go to a monastery.

Trofimov. Splendor!

Varya (Trofimov). A student needs to be smart! ( In a soft tone, with tears.) How ugly you have become, Petya, how old you have become! ( Lyubov Andreevna, no longer crying.) But I can’t do nothing, mommy. I need to do something every minute.

Yasha enters.

Yasha (barely holding back laughter). Epikhodov broke his billiard cue!.. ( Leaves.)

Varya. Why is Epikhodov here? Who allowed him to play billiards? I don't understand these people... ( Leaves.)

Lyubov Andreevna. Don’t tease her, Petya, you see, she’s already in grief.

Trofimov. She is very diligent, she meddles in things that don’t belong to her. All summer she haunted neither me nor Anya, she was afraid that our romance would not work out. What does she care? And besides, I didn’t show it, I’m so far from vulgarity. We are above love!

Lyubov Andreevna. But I must be below love. ( In great anxiety.) Why is Leonid not there? Just to know: was the estate sold or not? The misfortune seems so incredible to me that I somehow don’t even know what to think, I’m at a loss... I could scream now... I could do something stupid. Save me, Petya. Say something, say something...

Trofimov. Whether the estate is sold or not sold today - does it matter? It has long been finished, there is no turning back, the path is overgrown. Calm down, darling. There is no need to deceive yourself, you need to look the truth straight in the eyes at least once in your life.

Lyubov Andreevna. Which truth? You see where the truth is and where the untruth is, but I’ve definitely lost my sight, I don’t see anything. You boldly resolve all important issues, but tell me, my dear, is it because you are young, that you have not had time to suffer through any of your questions? You boldly look forward, and is it because you don’t see or expect anything terrible, since life is still hidden from your young eyes? You are bolder, more honest, deeper than us, but think about it, be generous even to the tip of your finger, spare me. After all, I was born here, my father and mother, my grandfather lived here, I love this house, I don’t understand my life without the cherry orchard, and if you really need to sell, then sell me along with the orchard... ( She hugs Trofimov and kisses his forehead.) After all, my son drowned here... ( Crying.) Have pity on me, good, kind man.

Trofimov. You know, I sympathize with all my heart.

Lyubov Andreevna. But we need to say it differently, differently... ( He takes out his handkerchief and a telegram falls to the floor.) My soul is heavy today, you can’t imagine. It’s noisy here, my soul trembles from every sound, I’m trembling all over, but I can’t go to my room, I’m scared alone in the silence. Don't judge me, Petya... I love you like my own. I would gladly give Anya for you, I swear to you, but, my dear, I have to study, I have to finish the course. You do nothing, only fate throws you from place to place, it’s so strange... Isn’t it? Yes? And we need to do something with the beard so that it grows somehow... ( Laughs.) You are funny!

Trofimov (picks up the telegram). I don't want to be handsome.

Lyubov Andreevna. This is a telegram from Paris. I receive it every day. Both yesterday and today. This wild man is sick again, things are not good with him again... He asks for forgiveness, begs to come, and I really should go to Paris, stay near him. You, Petya, have a stern face, but what can I do, my dear, what can I do, he is sick, he is lonely, unhappy, and who will look after him, who will keep him from making mistakes, who will give him medicine on time? And what is there to hide or remain silent about, I love him, that’s clear. I love, I love... This is a stone on my neck, I am going to the bottom with it, but I love this stone and cannot live without it. ( Shakes Trofimov's hand.) Don’t think badly, Petya, don’t tell me anything, don’t say...

Trofimov (through tears). Forgive me for my frankness, for God’s sake: he robbed you!

Lyubov Andreevna. No, no, no, don't say that... ( Covers ears.)

Trofimov. After all, he is a scoundrel, only you don’t know it! He is a petty scoundrel, a nonentity...

Lyubov Andreevna (angry, but restrained). You are twenty-six or twenty-seven years old, and you are still a second-grade high school student!

Trofimov. Let be!

Lyubov Andreevna. You have to be a man, at your age you have to understand those who love. And you have to love yourself... you have to fall in love! ( Angrily.) Yes Yes! And you have no cleanliness, and you are just a clean person, a funny eccentric, a freak...

Trofimov (horrified). What does she say!

Lyubov Andreevna."I am above love"! You are not above love, but simply, as our Firs says, you are a klutz. At your age, not to have a mistress!..

Trofimov (horrified). It's horrible! What does she say?! (He walks quickly into the hall, grabbing his head.) This is terrible... I can’t, I’ll leave... ( He leaves, but returns immediately.) It's all over between us! ( He goes into the hall.)

Lyubov Andreevna (shouts after). Petya, wait! Funny man, I was joking! Peter!

You can hear someone walking quickly up the stairs in the hallway and suddenly falling down with a roar. Anya and Varya scream, but laughter is immediately heard.

What is there?

Anya runs in.

Anya (laughing). Petya fell down the stairs! ( Runs away.)

Lyubov Andreevna. What an eccentric this Petya is...

The station chief stops in the middle of the hall and reads “The Sinner” by A. Tolstoy. They listen to him, but as soon as he has read a few lines, the sounds of a waltz are heard from the hall, and the reading is interrupted. Everyone is dancing. Trofimov, Anya, Varya and Lyubov Andreevna pass from the front hall.

Well, Petya... well, pure soul... I ask for forgiveness... Let's go dance... ( Dancing with Petya.)

Anya and Varya are dancing.

Firs enters and places his stick near the side door. Yasha also came in from the living room and watched the dancing.

Yasha. What, grandpa?

Firs. Not feeling well. Previously, generals, barons, and admirals danced at our balls, but now we send for the postal official and the station master, and even they are not willing to go. I've somehow weakened. The late master, grandfather, used sealing wax for everyone, for all diseases. I have been taking sealing wax every day for twenty years, or even more; maybe I'm alive because of it.

Yasha. I'm tired of you, grandpa. ( Yawns.) I wish you would die soon.

Firs. Eh...you klutz! ( Mumbling.)

Trofimov and Lyubov Andreevna dance in the hall, then in the living room.

Lyubov Andreevna. Merci. I'll sit... ( Sits down.) Tired.

Anya enters.

Anya (excitedly). And now in the kitchen some man was saying that the cherry orchard had already been sold today.

Lyubov Andreevna. Sold to whom?

Anya. Didn't say to whom. Gone. ( Dancing with Trofimov.)

Both go into the hall.

Yasha. It was some old man there chatting. Stranger.

Firs. But Leonid Andreich is not there yet, he hasn’t arrived. The coat he’s wearing is light, it’s mid-season, and just in case he catches a cold. Eh, young and green!

Lyubov Andreevna. I'll die now. Come, Yasha, find out who it was sold to.

Yasha. Yes, he left a long time ago, old man. ( Laughs.)

Lyubov Andreevna (with slight annoyance). Well, why are you laughing? What are you happy about?

Yasha. Epikhodov is very funny. Empty man. Twenty-two misfortunes.

Lyubov Andreevna. Firs, if the estate is sold, where will you go?

Firs. Wherever you order, I will go there.

Lyubov Andreevna. Why is your face like that? Are you unwell? You should go to bed, you know...

Firs. Yes... ( With a grin.) I’ll go to bed, but without me, who will serve, who will give orders? One for the whole house.

Yasha (Lyubov Andreevna). Lyubov Andreevna! Let me ask you a request, be so kind! If you go to Paris again, then take me with you, do me a favor. It’s absolutely impossible for me to stay here. ( Looking around, in a low voice.) What can I say, you see for yourself, the country is uneducated, the people are immoral, and, moreover, boredom, the food in the kitchen is ugly, and here is this Firs walking around, muttering various inappropriate words. Take me with you, please!

Pishchik enters.

Pishchik. Let me ask you... for a waltz, my most beautiful...

Lyubov Andreevna goes with him.

Charming, after all, I’ll take one hundred and eighty rubles from you... I’ll take it... ( Dancing.) One hundred and eighty rubles...

We went into the hall.

Yasha (hums quietly). "Will you understand the excitement of my soul..."

In the hall, a figure in a gray top hat and checkered trousers waves his arms and jumps; shouts: “Bravo, Charlotte Ivanovna!”

Dunyasha (stopped to powder myself). The young lady tells me to dance - there are many gentlemen, but few ladies - and my head is spinning from dancing, my heart is beating, Firs Nikolaevich, and now the official from the post office told me something that took my breath away.

The music stops.

Firs. What did he tell you?

Dunyasha. You, he says, are like a flower.

Yasha (yawns). Ignorance... ( Leaves.)

Dunyasha. Like a flower... I'm such a delicate girl, I really love tender words.

Firs. You'll get spun.

Epikhodov enters.

Epikhodov. You, Avdotya Fedorovna, don’t want to see me... as if I were some kind of insect. ( Sighs.) Oh, life!

Dunyasha. What do you want?

Epikhodov. Sure, you may be right. ( Sighs.) But, of course, if you look at it from the point of view, then you, if I may put it this way, excuse the frankness, have completely brought me into a state of mind. I know my fortune, every day some misfortune happens to me, and I have long been accustomed to this, so I look at my fate with a smile. You gave me your word, and although I...

Dunyasha. Please, we'll talk later, but now leave me alone. Now I'm dreaming. ( Plays with a fan.)

Epikhodov. I have misfortune every day, and I, if I may put it this way, only smile, even laugh.

Varya enters from the hall.

Varya. Are you still there, Semyon? What kind of person are you, really? disrespectful person. (Dunyasha.) Get out of here, Dunyasha. ( Epikhodov.) Either you play billiards and your cue breaks, then you walk around the living room like a guest.

Epikhodov. Let me express it to you, you cannot exact it from me.

Varya. I'm not demanding from you, but I'm telling you. All you know is that you are walking from place to place, but not doing anything. We keep a clerk, but we don’t know why.

Epikhodov (offended). Whether I work, walk, eat, play billiards, only people who understand and are older can talk about that.

Varya. You dare tell me this! ( Having a temper.) Do you dare? So I don't understand anything? Get out of here! This minute!

Epikhodov (cowardly). I ask you to express yourself in a sensitive way.

Varya (losing my temper). Get out of here this minute! Out!

He goes to the door, she follows him.

Twenty-two misfortunes! So that your spirit is not here! So that my eyes don’t see you!

Oh, are you going back? ( He grabs the stick placed near the door by Firs.) Go... Go... Go, I'll show you... Oh, are you coming? Are you coming? So here's to you... ( Swings.)

At this time Lopakhin enters.

Lopakhin. Thank you most humbly.

Varya (angry and mocking). Guilty!

Lopakhin. Nothing, sir. I humbly thank you for the pleasant treat.

Varya. Do not mention it. ( He walks away, then looks back and asks softly.) Did I hurt you?

Lopakhin. There is nothing. The bump, however, will jump up huge.

Pishchik. By sight, by hearing... ( Kisses with Lopakhin.) You smell like cognac, my dear, my soul. And we're having fun here too.

Lyubov Andreevna enters.

Lyubov Andreevna. Is it you, Ermolai Alekseich? Why so long? Where is Leonid?

Lopakhin. Leonid Andreich came with me, he’s coming...

Lyubov Andreevna (worried). Well? Was there any bidding? Speak up!

Lopakhin (embarrassed, afraid to discover his joy). The auction ended at four o'clock... We were late for the train and had to wait until half past nine. ( Sighing heavily.) Phew! I'm feeling a little dizzy...

Gaev enters; V right hand he has some shopping, he wipes away his tears with his left hand.

Lyubov Andreevna. Lenya, what? Lenya, well? ( Impatiently, with tears.) Hurry, for God's sake...

Gaev (doesn’t answer her, just waves his hand at Firs, crying). Here you go... There are anchovies, Kerch herrings... I haven't eaten anything today... I've suffered so much!

The door to the billiard room is open: the sound of balls and Yasha’s voice are heard: “Seven and eighteen!” Gaev’s expression changes, he no longer cries.

I'm terribly tired. Let me, Firs, change my clothes. ( He goes home through the hall, followed by Firs.)

Pishchik. What's up for auction? Tell me!

Lyubov Andreevna. Is the cherry orchard sold?

Lopakhin. Sold.

Lyubov Andreevna. Who bought it?

Lopakhin. I bought.

Pause.

Lyubov Andreevna is depressed; she would have fallen if she had not been standing near the chair and table. Varya takes the keys from her belt, throws them on the floor in the middle of the living room, and leaves.

I bought! Wait, gentlemen, do me a favor, my head is clouded, I can’t speak... ( Laughs.) We came to the auction, Deriganov was already there. Leonid Andreich had only fifteen thousand, and Deriganov immediately gave thirty thousand on top of the debt. I see this is the case, I tackled him and gave him forty. He's forty-five. I'm fifty-five. That means he adds five, I add ten... Well, it’s over. I gave ninety in excess of my debt; that was left to me. The cherry orchard is now mine! My! ( Laughs.) My God, my God, my cherry orchard! Tell me that I’m drunk, out of my mind, that I’m imagining all this... ( Stomps his feet.) Don't laugh at me! If only my father and grandfather would get up from their graves and look at the whole incident, like their Ermolai, the beaten, illiterate Ermolai, who ran barefoot in the winter, how this same Ermolai bought an estate, the most beautiful of which there is nothing in the world. I bought an estate where my grandfather and father were slaves, where they were not even allowed into the kitchen. I’m dreaming, I’m only imagining this, it’s only seeming... This is a figment of your imagination, covered in the darkness of the unknown... ( He picks up the keys, smiling affectionately.) She threw away the keys, she wants to show that she is no longer the owner here... ( The keys jingle.) Well, it doesn’t matter.

You can hear the orchestra tuning up.

Hey musicians, play, I want to listen to you! Come and watch how Ermolai Lopakhin takes an ax to the cherry orchard and how the trees fall to the ground! We will set up dachas, and our grandchildren and great-grandchildren will see a new life here... Music, play!

Music is playing. Lyubov Andreevna sank into a chair and cried bitterly.

(With reproach.) Why, why didn’t you listen to me? My poor, good one, you won’t get it back now. ( With tears.) Oh, if only all this would pass, if only our awkward, unhappy life would somehow change.

Pischik (takes him by the arm, in a low voice). She's crying. Let's go to the hall, let her be alone... Let's go... ( She takes him by the arm and leads him into the hall.)

Lopakhin. What is it? Music, play clearly! Let everything be as I wish! ( With irony.) A new landowner is coming, the owner of a cherry orchard! ( He accidentally pushed the table and almost knocked over the candelabra.) I can pay for everything! ( Leaves with Pishchik.)

There is no one in the hall and living room except Lyubov Andreevna, who is sitting, cowering all over and crying bitterly. Music plays quietly. Anya and Trofimov quickly enter. Anya approaches her mother and kneels in front of her. Trofimov remains at the entrance to the hall.

Anya. Mom!.. Mom, are you crying? My dear, kind, good mother, my beautiful, I love you... I bless you. The cherry orchard has been sold, it’s no longer there, it’s true, it’s true, but don’t cry, mom, you still have a life ahead of you, your good, pure soul remains... Come with me, let’s go, dear, from here, let’s go!.. We will plant a new garden, more luxurious than this, you will see it, you will understand it, and joy, quiet, deep joy will descend on your soul, like the sun in the evening hour, and you will smile, mom! Let's go, honey! Let's go to!..

A curtain

Act four

The scenery of the first act. There are no curtains on the windows, no paintings, there is only a little furniture left, which is folded in one corner, as if for sale. It feels empty. Suitcases, travel items, etc. are stacked near the exit door and at the back of the stage. To the left, the door is open, and the voices of Varya and Anya can be heard from there. Lopakhin stands, waits. Yasha holds a tray with glasses filled with champagne. In the hallway, Epikhodov is tying up a box. There's a rumble in the background behind the stage. The men came to say goodbye. Gaev’s voice: “Thank you, brothers, thank you.”

Yasha. The common people came to say goodbye. I am of this opinion, Ermolai Alekseich: the people are kind, but they understand little.

The hum subsides. Lyubov Andreevna and Gaev enter through the front; she is not crying, but she is pale, her face is trembling, she cannot speak.

Gaev. You gave them your wallet, Lyuba. You can not do it this way! You can not do it this way!

Lyubov Andreevna. I could not! I could not!

Both leave.

Lopakhin (at the door, following them). Please, I humbly ask! A glass of goodbye. I didn’t think to bring it from the city, but at the station I found only one bottle. You're welcome!

Pause.

Well, gentlemen! Wouldn't you like it? ( Moves away from the door.) If I had known, I wouldn’t have bought it. Well, I won’t drink either.

Yasha carefully places the tray on the chair.

Have a drink, Yasha, at least you.

Yasha. With those departing! Happy stay! ( Drinks.) This champagne is not real, I can assure you.

Lopakhin. Eight rubles a bottle.

Pause.

It's damn cold here.

Yasha. We didn't heat it today, we're leaving anyway. ( Laughs.)

Lopakhin. What you?

Yasha. From pleasure.

Lopakhin. It's October, but it's sunny and quiet, like summer. Build well. ( Looking at the clock, at the door.) Gentlemen, keep in mind that there are only forty-six minutes left before the train! That means we’ll be heading to the station in twenty minutes. Hurry up.

Trofimov comes in from the yard wearing a coat.

Trofimov. I think it's time to go. The horses have been served. The devil knows where my galoshes are. Gone. ( In the door.) Anya, my galoshes are gone! Have not found!

Lopakhin. But I need to go to Kharkov. I'll go on the same train with you. I will live in Kharkov all winter. I kept hanging around with you, tired of doing nothing. I can’t live without work, I don’t know what to do with my hands; hanging out somehow strangely, like strangers.

Trofimov. We’ll leave now, and you’ll get back to your useful work.

Lopakhin. Have a glass.

Trofimov. I won't.

Lopakhin. So, to Moscow now?

Trofimov. Yes, I’ll take them to the city, and tomorrow to Moscow.

Lopakhin. Yes... Well, professors don’t give lectures, I guess everyone is waiting for you to arrive!

Trofimov. None of your business.

Lopakhin. How many years have you been studying at university?

Trofimov. Come up with something new. It's old and flat. ( Looking for galoshes.) You know, we probably won’t see each other again, so let me give you one parting piece of advice: don’t wave your arms! Get out of the habit of swinging. And, too, to build dachas, to count on the fact that the dacha owners will eventually emerge as individual owners, to count like this also means to wave... After all, I still love you. You have thin, delicate fingers, like an artist, you have a subtle, gentle soul...

Lopakhin (hugs him). Goodbye, my dear. Thanks for all. If necessary, take money from me for the trip.

Trofimov. Why do I need it? No need.

Lopakhin. After all, you don’t!

Trofimov. Eat. Thank you. I received it for the translation. Here they are, in your pocket. ( Alarming.) But my galoshes are missing!

Varya (from another room). Take your nasty! ( Throws a pair of rubber galoshes onto the stage.)

Trofimov. Why are you angry, Varya? Hm... Yes, these are not my galoshes!

Lopakhin. In the spring I sowed a thousand dessiatines of poppy seeds and now I have earned forty thousand net. And when my poppy bloomed, what a picture it was! So, I say, I earned forty thousand and, therefore, I offer you a loan, because I can. Why bother? I'm a man... simply.

Trofimov. Your father was a man, mine was a pharmacist, and absolutely nothing follows from this.

Lopakhin takes out his wallet.

Leave it, leave it... Give me at least two hundred thousand, I won’t take it. Im free person. And everything that you all value so highly and dearly, rich and poor, does not have the slightest power over me, just like fluff that floats through the air. I can do without you, I can pass by you, I am strong and proud. Humanity is moving towards the highest truth, towards the highest happiness that is possible on earth, and I am in the forefront!

Lopakhin. Will you get there?

Trofimov. I'll get there.

Pause.

I’ll get there or show others the way to get there.

You can hear an ax knocking on a tree in the distance.

Lopakhin. Well, goodbye, darling. It's time to go. We keep our noses at each other, and life just goes by. When I work for a long time, tirelessly, then my thoughts are lighter, and it seems as if I also know why I exist. And how many people, brother, are there in Russia who exist for unknown reasons? Well, anyway, that’s not the point of circulation. Leonid Andreich, they say, has accepted a position, he will be at the bank, six thousand a year... But he can’t sit still, he’s very lazy...

Anya (in the door). Mom asks you: before she leaves, so as not to cut down the garden.

Trofimov. Really, is there really a lack of tact... ( Leaves through the front.)

Lopakhin. Now, now... Oh, really. ( Follows him.)

Anya. Was Firs sent to the hospital?

Yasha. I spoke this morning. Sent, I have to think.

Anya (Epikhodov, who passes through the hall). Semyon Panteleich, please inquire whether Firs was taken to the hospital.

Yasha (offended). This morning I told Yegor. Why ask ten times!

Epikhodov. The long-lived Firs, in my final opinion, is not fit for repair; he needs to go to his forefathers. And I can only envy him. ( He put the suitcase on the cardboard with the hat and crushed it.) Well, here, of course. I knew it. ( Leaves.)

Yasha (mockingly). Twenty-two misfortunes...

Varya (Behind the door). Was Firs taken to the hospital?

Anya. They took me away.

Varya. Why didn't they take the letter to the doctor?

Anya. So we need to send after... ( Leaves.)

Varya (from the next room). Where is Yasha? Tell him his mother has come and wants to say goodbye to him.

Yasha (waves his hand). They only take you out of patience.

Dunyasha is always busy with things; Now that Yasha was left alone, she approached him.

Dunyasha. At least take a look once, Yasha. You are leaving... leaving me... ( She cries and throws herself on his neck.)

Yasha. Why cry? ( Drinks champagne.) Six days later I'm back in Paris. Tomorrow we will board the courier train and leave, they only saw us. Somehow I can’t even believe it. Vive la France!.. ( Long live France!.. (French - Vive la France!)) It’s not for me here, I can’t live... nothing can be done. I've seen enough of ignorance - that's enough for me. (Drinks champagne.) Why cry? Behave decently, then you won't cry.

Dunyasha (powdering herself while looking in the mirror). Send a letter from Paris. After all, I loved you, Yasha, I loved you so much! I am a gentle creature, Yasha!

Yasha. They're coming here. ( Busts around the suitcases, hums quietly.)

Enter Lyubov Andreevna, Gaev, Anya and Charlotte Ivanovna.

Gaev. We should go. There's already a little left. (Looking at Yasha.) Who smells like herring?

Lyubov Andreevna. In about ten minutes, let's get into the carriages... ( He looks around the room.) Farewell sweet home, old grandfather. Winter will pass, spring will come, and you will no longer be there, you will be broken. How many times have these walls been seen! ( He kisses his daughter warmly.) My treasure, you shine, your eyes play like two diamonds. Are you satisfied? Very?

Anya. Very! A new life begins, mom!

Gaev (funny). In fact, everything is fine now. Before the sale of the cherry orchard, we were all worried, suffering, and then, when the issue was finally, irrevocably resolved, everyone calmed down, even cheered up... I’m a bank employee, now I’m a financier... yellow in the middle, and you, Lyuba, after all you look better, that's for sure.

Lyubov Andreevna. Yes. My nerves are better, it's true.

She is given a hat and coat.

I sleep well. Take my things out, Yasha. It's time. ( But not.) My girl, we'll see you soon... I'm leaving for Paris, I'll live there with the money that your Yaroslavl grandmother sent to buy the estate - long live grandma! - and this money will not last long.

Anya. You, mom, will be back soon, soon... won't you? I will prepare, pass the exam at the gymnasium and then I will work and help you. We, mom, will read different books together... Isn't that right? ( Kisses mother's hands.) We will read on autumn evenings, we will read many books, and a new, wonderful world will open before us... ( Dreaming.) Mom, come...

Lyubov Andreevna. I'll come, my gold. ( Hugs his daughter.)

Lopakhin enters, Charlotte quietly hums a song.

Gaev. Happy Charlotte: Singing!

Charlotte (takes a knot that looks like a rolled up baby.) My baby, bye, bye...

A child is heard crying: “Wa, wa!..”

Shut up, my good, my dear boy.

"Wah!..Wah!.."

I feel so sorry for you! ( Throws the knot into place.) So please find me a place. I can't do this.

Lopakhin. We'll find you, Charlotte Ivanovna, don't worry.

Gaev. Everyone leaves us, Varya leaves... suddenly we are no longer needed.

Charlotte. I have nowhere to live in the city. We have to leave... ( Humming.) Doesn't matter...

Pishchik enters.

Lopakhin. Nature miracle!..

Pischik (out of breath). Oh, let me catch my breath... I'm exhausted... My most respected... Give me some water...

Gaev. For money, perhaps? Humble servant, I am leaving sin... ( Leaves.)

Pishchik. I haven't been to see you for a long time... the most beautiful... ( Lopakhin.) You are here... glad to see you... a man of great intelligence... take... get... ( He gives Lopakhin money.) Four hundred rubles... I have eight hundred and forty left...

Lopakhin (shrugs in bewilderment). Just like in a dream... Where did you get it?

Pishchik. Wait... It's hot... This is an extraordinary event. The British came to me and found some white clay in the ground... ( Lyubov Andreevna.) And you are four hundred... beautiful, amazing... ( Gives money.) The rest later. ( Drinks water.) Now one young man was talking in the carriage that some... great philosopher advises jumping from the roofs... "Jump!" - he says, and this is the whole task. ( Surprised.) Just think! Water!..

Lopakhin. What kind of English are these?

Pishchik. I rented them a plot of land with clay for twenty-four years... And now, excuse me, there’s no time... I need to ride on... I’ll go to Znoykov... to Kardamonov... I owe everyone... ( Drinks.) I wish you good health... I'll come by on Thursday...

Lyubov Andreevna. We are moving to the city now, and tomorrow I will go abroad...

Pishchik. How? ( Alarmed.) Why to the city? That's why I'm looking at the furniture... suitcases... Well, nothing... ( Through tears.) Nothing... People of the greatest intelligence... these Englishmen... Nothing... Be happy... God will help you... Nothing... Everything in this world has an end... ( Kisses Lyubov Andreevna's hand.) And if rumor reaches you that the end has come for me, remember this very... horse and say: “There was such and such in the world... Simeonov-Pishchik... may he rest in heaven”... Wonderful weather... . Yes... ( He leaves in great embarrassment, but immediately returns and speaks at the door.) Dashenka bowed to you! ( Leaves.)

Lyubov Andreevna. Now you can go. I'm leaving with two worries. The first is the sick Firs. ( Looking at the clock.) You can have another five minutes...

Anya. Mom, Firs has already been sent to the hospital. Yasha sent in the morning.

Lyubov Andreevna. My second sadness is Varya. She got used to getting up early and working, and now without difficulty she is like a fish out of water. The poor thing has lost weight, turned pale and is crying.

Pause.

You know this very well, Ermolai Alekseich; I dreamed... of marrying her to you, and from everything it was clear that you were getting married. ( He whispers to Anya, she nods to Charlotte, and both leave.) She loves you, you like her, and I don’t know, I don’t know why you are definitely avoiding each other. I don't understand!

Lopakhin. I don’t understand it myself either, I must admit. Everything is somehow strange... If there is still time, then at least I’m ready now... Let’s finish it right away and that’s it, and without you, I feel, I won’t make an offer.

Lyubov Andreevna. And excellent. After all, it only takes one minute. I'll call her now...

Lopakhin. By the way, there is champagne. ( Looking at the glasses.) Empty, someone has already drunk.

Yasha coughs.

It's called crying out...

Lyubov Andreevna (lively). Wonderful. We'll go out... Yasha, allez! ( go! (French)) I'll call her... ( In the door.) Varya, leave everything, come here. Go! ( He leaves with Yasha.)

Lopakhin (looking at his watch). Yes...

Pause.

There is restrained laughter and whispers behind the door, and Varya finally enters.

Varya (looks at things for a long time). Strange, I can't find it...

Lopakhin. What are you looking for?

Varya. I laid it myself and don’t remember.

Pause.

Lopakhin. Where are you going now, Varvara Mikhailovna?

Varya. I? To the Ragulins... I agreed to look after the housekeeping for them... as housekeepers, or something.

Lopakhin. Is this in Yashnevo? It will be seventy versts.

Pause.

So life in this house ended...

Varya (looking at things). Where is this... Or maybe I put it in a chest... Yes, life in this house is over... there will be no more...

Lopakhin. And I’m leaving for Kharkov now... with this train. There's a lot to do. And here I leave Epikhodov in the yard... I hired him.

Varya. Well!

Lopakhin. Last year it was already snowing at this time, if you remember, but now it’s quiet and sunny. It’s just been cold... Three degrees below zero.

Varya. I didn't look.

Pause.

And our thermometer is broken...

Lopakhin (I’ve definitely been waiting for this call for a long time.) This minute! ( Leaves quickly.)

Varya, sitting on the floor, resting her head on the bundle with her dress, quietly sobs. The door opens and Lyubov Andreevna carefully enters.

Lyubov Andreevna. What?

Pause.

Must go.

Varya (no longer crying, wiped her eyes). Yes, it's time, mommy.

I’ll get to the Ragulins today, just so I don’t miss the train...

Lyubov Andreevna (in the door). Anya, get dressed!

Anya enters, then Gaev, Charlotte Ivanovna. Gaev is wearing a warm coat with a hood. Servants and cab drivers arrive. Epikhodov is busy with things.

Now you can go on the road.

Anya (joyfully). On the road!

Gaev. My dear friends, Dear friends my! Leaving this house forever, can I remain silent, can I resist, so as not to say goodbye to those feelings that now fill my whole being...

Anya (pleadingly). Uncle!

Varya. Uncle, no need!

Gaev (sadly). A doublet of yellow in the middle... I’m silent...

Trofimov enters, then Lopakhin.

Trofimov. Well, gentlemen, it's time to go!

Lopakhin. Epikhodov, my coat!

Lyubov Andreevna. I'll sit one more minute. It’s as if I’ve never seen before what kind of walls, what kind of ceilings there are in this house, and now I look at them with greed, with such tender love...

Gaev. I remember when I was six years old, on Trinity Day I sat on this window and watched my father go to church...

Lyubov Andreevna. Have you taken all your things?

Lopakhin. It seems that's it. ( Epikhodov, putting on his coat.) You, Epikhodov, make sure that everything is in order.

Epikhodov. Now I drank water and swallowed something.

Yasha (with contempt). Ignorance...

Lyubov Andreevna. We'll leave and there won't be a soul left here...

Lopakhin. Until spring.

Varya (pulls the umbrella out of the knot, it looks like she swung it; Lopakhin pretends to be scared). What are you, what are you... I didn’t even think.

Trofimov. Gentlemen, let's go get into the carriages... It's time! Now the train is coming!

Varya. Petya, here they are, your galoshes, next to the suitcase. ( With tears.) And how dirty and old they are...

Trofimov (putting on galoshes). Let's go, gentlemen!..

Gaev (very embarrassed, afraid to cry). Train... station... Croise in the middle, white doublet in the corner...

Lyubov Andreevna. Let's go!

Lopakhin. All here? Is there anyone there? ( Locks the side door to the left.) Things are stacked here and need to be locked. Let's go!..

Anya. Goodbye home! Goodbye old life!

Trofimov. Hello, new life!.. ( He leaves with Anya.)

Varya glances around the room and slowly leaves. Yasha and Charlotte leave with the dog.

Lopakhin. So, until spring. Come out, gentlemen... Goodbye!.. ( Leaves.)

Lyubov Andreevna and Gaev were left alone. They were definitely waiting for this, they throw themselves on each other’s necks and sob restrainedly, quietly, afraid that they will not be heard.

Gaev (in desperation). My sister, my sister...

Lyubov Andreevna. Oh my dear, my tender, beautiful garden!.. My life, my youth, my happiness, goodbye!.. Farewell!..

Lyubov Andreevna. Take a last look at the walls, at the windows... The late mother loved to walk around this room...

Gaev. My sister, my sister!..

Lyubov Andreevna. We are going!..

They leave.

The stage is empty. You can hear all the doors being locked and then the carriages driving away. It gets quiet. In the midst of the silence, the dull knock of an ax on wood is heard, sounding lonely and sad. Footsteps are heard. Firs appears from the door on the right. He is dressed, as always, in a jacket and a white vest, with shoes on his feet. He is sick.

Firs (comes to the door, touches the handle). Locked. We left... ( Sits on the sofa.) They forgot about me... It’s okay... I’ll sit here... But Leonid Andreich probably didn’t put on a fur coat, he went in a coat... ( He sighs with concern.) I didn’t look... It’s young and green! ( He mutters something that cannot be understood.) Life passed as if he had never lived. ( Lies down.) I’ll lie down... You don’t have strength, there’s nothing left, nothing... Eh, you... klutz!.. ( Lies motionless.)

A distant sound is heard, as if from the sky, the sound of a broken string, fading, sad. There is silence, and you can only hear how far away in the garden an ax is being knocked on a tree.