Act III

A drawing-room divided by an arch from a larger drawing-room. A chandelier burning. The Jewish orchestra, the same that was mentioned in Act II, is heard playing in the anteroom. It is evening. In the larger drawing-room they are dancing the grand chain. The voice of Seyonov-Pishtchik: “Promenade à une paire!” Then enter the drawing-room in couples, first Pishtchik and Charlotta Ivanovna, then Trofimov and Lyubov Andreyevna, thirdly Anya with the Post-Office Clerk, fourthly Varya with the Station Master, and other guests. Varya is quietly weeping and wiping away her tears as she dances. In the last couple is Dunyasha. They move across the drawing-room. Pishtchik shouts: “Grand rond, balancez!” and “Les Cavaliers à genou et remerciez vos dames.”

Firs in a swallowtail coat brings in seltzer water on a tray. Pishtchik and Trofimov enter the drawing-room.
Pishtchik I am a full-blooded man; I have already had two strokes. Dancing’s hard work for me, but as they say, if you’re in the pack, you must bark with the rest. I’m as strong, I may say, as a horse. My parent, who would have his joke⁠—may the Kingdom of Heaven be his!⁠—used to say about our origin that the ancient stock of the Semyonov-Pishtchiks was derived from the very horse that Caligula made a member of the senate sits down. But I’ve no money, that’s where the mischief is. A hungry dog believes in nothing but meat⁠ ⁠… snores, but at once wakes up. That’s like me⁠ ⁠… I can think of nothing but money.
Trofimov There really is something horsy about your appearance.
Pishtchik Well⁠ ⁠… a horse is a fine beast⁠ ⁠… a horse can be sold.
There is the sound of billiards being played in an adjoining room. Varya appears in the arch leading to the larger drawing-room.
Trofimov Teasing. Madame Lopahin! Madame Lopahin!
Varya Angrily. Mangy-looking gentleman!
Trofimov Yes, I am a mangy-looking gentleman, and I’m proud of it!
Varya Pondering bitterly. Here we have hired musicians and nothing to pay them! Goes out.
Trofimov To Pishtchik. If the energy you have wasted during your lifetime in trying to find the money to pay your interest, had gone to something else, you might in the end have turned the world upside down.
Pishtchik Nietzsche, the philosopher, a very great and celebrated man⁠ ⁠… of enormous intellect⁠ ⁠… says in his works, that one can make forged banknotes.
Trofimov Why, have you read Nietzsche?
Pishtchik What next⁠ ⁠… Dashenka told me.⁠ ⁠… And now I am in such a position, I might just as well forge banknotes. The day after tomorrow I must pay 310 roubles⁠—130 I have procured feels in his pockets, in alarm. The money’s gone! I have lost my money! Through his tears. Where’s the money? Gleefully. Why here it is behind the lining.⁠ ⁠… It has made me hot all over.
Enter Lyubov Andreyevna and Charlotta Ivanovna.
Lyubov Hums the Lezginka. Why is Leonid so long? What can he be doing in town? To Dunyasha. Offer the musicians some tea.
Trofimov The sale hasn’t taken place, most likely.
Lyubov It’s the wrong time to have the orchestra, and the wrong time to give a dance. Well, never mind sits down and hums softly.
Charlotta Gives Pishtchik a pack of cards. Here’s a pack of cards. Think of any card you like.
Pishtchik I’ve thought of one.
Charlotta Shuffle the pack now. That’s right. Give it here, my dear Mr. Pishtchik. Ein, zwei, drei⁠—now look, it’s in your breast pocket.
Pishtchik Taking a card out of his breast pocket. The eight of spades! Perfectly right! Wonderingly. Fancy that now!
Charlotta Holding pack of cards in her hands, to Trofimov. Tell me quickly which is the top card.
Trofimov Well, the queen of spades.
Charlotta It is! To Pishtchik. Well, which card is uppermost?
Pishtchik The ace of hearts.
Charlotta It is! Claps her hands, pack of cards disappears. Ah! what lovely weather it is today!
A mysterious feminine voice which seems coming out of the floor answers her. “Oh, yes, it’s magnificent weather, madam.”
Charlotta You are my perfect ideal.
Voice And I greatly admire you too, madam.
Station Master Applauding. The lady ventriloquist⁠—bravo!
Pishtchik Wonderingly. Fancy that now! Most enchanting Charlotta Ivanovna. I’m simply in love with you.
Charlotta In love? Shrugging shoulders. What do you know of love, guter Mensch, aber schlechter Musikant.
Trofimov Pats Pishtchik on the shoulder. You dear old horse.⁠ ⁠…
Charlotta Attention, please! Another trick! Takes a travelling rug from a chair. Here’s a very good rug; I want to sell it shaking it out. Doesn’t anyone want to buy it?
Pishtchik Wonderingly. Fancy that!
Charlotta Ein, zwei, drei! Quickly picks up rug she has dropped; behind the rug stands Anya; she makes a curtsey, runs to her mother, embraces her and runs back into the larger drawing-room amidst general enthusiasm.
Lyubov Applauds. Bravo! Bravo!
Charlotta Now again! Ein, zwei, drei! Lifts up the rug; behind the rug stands Varya, bowing.
Pishtchik Wonderingly. Fancy that now!
Charlotta That’s the end throws the rug at Pishtchik, makes a curtsey, runs into the larger drawing-room.
Pishtchik Hurries after her. Mischievous creature! Fancy! Goes out.
Lyubov And still Leonid doesn’t come. I can’t understand what he’s doing in the town so long! Why, everything must be over by now. The estate is sold, or the sale has not taken place. Why keep us so long in suspense?
Varya Trying to console her. Uncle’s bought it. I feel sure of that.
Trofimov Ironically. Oh, yes!
Varya Great-aunt sent him an authorisation to buy it in her name, and transfer the debt. She’s doing it for Anya’s sake, and I’m sure God will be merciful. Uncle will buy it.
Lyubov My aunt in Yaroslavl sent fifteen thousand to buy the estate in her name, she doesn’t trust us⁠—but that’s not enough even to pay the arrears hides her face in her hands. My fate is being sealed today, my fate⁠ ⁠…
Trofimov Teasing Varya. Madame Lopahin.
Varya Angrily. Perpetual student! Twice already you’ve been sent down from the University.
Lyubov Why are you angry, Varya? He’s teasing you about Lopahin. Well, what of that? Marry Lopahin if you like, he’s a good man, and interesting; if you don’t want to, don’t! Nobody compels you, darling.
Varya I must tell you plainly, mamma, I look at the matter seriously; he’s a good man, I like him.
Lyubov Well, marry him. I can’t see what you’re waiting for.
Varya Mamma, I can’t make him an offer myself. For the last two years, everyone’s been talking to me about him. Everyone talks; but he says nothing or else makes a joke. I see what it means. He’s growing rich, he’s absorbed in business, he has no thoughts for me. If I had money, were it ever so little, if I had only a hundred roubles, I’d throw everything up and go far away. I would go into a nunnery.
Trofimov What bliss!
Varya To Trofimov. A student ought to have sense! In a soft tone with tears. How ugly you’ve grown, Petya! How old you look! To Lyubov Andreyevna, no longer crying. But I can’t do without work, mamma; I must have something to do every minute.
Enter Yasha.
Yasha Hardly restraining his laughter. Epihodov has broken a billiard cue! Goes out.
Varya What is Epihodov doing here? Who gave him leave to play billiards? I can’t make these people out goes out.
Lyubov Don’t tease her, Petya. You see she has grief enough without that.
Trofimov She is so very officious, meddling in what’s not her business. All the summer she’s given Anya and me no peace. She’s afraid of a love affair between us. What’s it to do with her? Besides, I have given no grounds for it. Such triviality is not in my line. We are above love!
Lyubov And I suppose I am beneath love. Very uneasily. Why is it Leonid’s not here? If only I could know whether the estate is sold or not! It seems such an incredible calamity that I really don’t know what to think. I am distracted⁠ ⁠… I shall scream in a minute⁠ ⁠… I shall do something stupid. Save me, Petya, tell me something, talk to me!
Trofimov What does it matter whether the estate is sold today or not? That’s all done with long ago. There’s no turning back, the path is overgrown. Don’t worry yourself, dear Lyubov Andreyevna. You mustn’t deceive yourself; for once in your life you must face the truth!
Lyubov What truth? You see where the truth lies, but I seem to have lost my sight, I see nothing. You settle every great problem so boldly, but tell me, my dear boy, isn’t it because you’re young⁠—because you haven’t yet understood one of your problems through suffering? You look forward boldly, and isn’t it that you don’t see and don’t expect anything dreadful because life is still hidden from your young eyes? You’re bolder, more honest, deeper than we are, but think, be just a little magnanimous, have pity on me. I was born here, you know, my father and mother lived here, my grandfather lived here, I love this house. I can’t conceive of life without the cherry orchard, and if it really must be sold, then sell me with the orchard embraces Trofimov, kisses him on the forehead. My boy was drowned here weeps. Pity me, my dear kind fellow.
Trofimov You know I feel for you with all my heart.
Lyubov But that should have been said differently, so differently takes out her handkerchief, telegram falls on the floor. My heart is so heavy today. It’s so noisy here, my soul is quivering at every sound, I’m shuddering all over, but I can’t go away; I’m afraid to be quiet and alone. Don’t be hard on me, Petya⁠ ⁠… I love you as though you were one of ourselves. I would gladly let you marry Anya⁠—I swear I would⁠—only, my dear boy, you must take your degree, you do nothing⁠—you’re simply tossed by fate from place to place. That’s so strange. It is, isn’t it? And you must do something with your beard to make it grow somehow laughs. You look so funny!
Trofimov Picks up the telegram. I’ve no wish to be a beauty.
Lyubov That’s a telegram from Paris. I get one every day. One yesterday and one today. That savage creature is ill again, he’s in trouble again. He begs forgiveness, beseeches me to go, and really I ought to go to Paris to see him. You look shocked, Petya. What am I to do, my dear boy, what am I to do? He is ill, he is alone and unhappy, and who’ll look after him, who’ll keep him from doing the wrong thing, who’ll give him his medicine at the right time? And why hide it or be silent? I love him, that’s clear. I love him! I love him! He’s a millstone about my neck, I’m going to the bottom with him, but I love that stone and can’t live without it presses Trofimov’s hand. Don’t think ill of me, Petya, don’t tell me anything, don’t tell me⁠ ⁠…
Trofimov Through his tears. For God’s sake forgive my frankness: why, he robbed you!
Lyubov No! No! No! You mustn’t speak like that covers her ears.
Trofimov He is a wretch! You’re the only person that doesn’t know it! He’s a worthless creature! A despicable wretch!
Lyubov Getting angry, but speaking with restraint. You’re twenty-six or twenty-seven years old, but you’re still a schoolboy.
Trofimov Possibly.
Lyubov You should be a man at your age! You should understand what love means! And you ought to be in love yourself. You ought to fall in love! Angrily. Yes, yes, and it’s not purity in you, you’re simply a prude, a comic fool, a freak.
Trofimov In horror. The things she’s saying!
Lyubov I am above love! You’re not above love, but simply as our Firs here says, “You are a good-for-nothing.” At your age not to have a mistress!
Trofimov In horror. This is awful! The things she is saying! Goes rapidly into the larger drawing-room clutching his head. This is awful! I can’t stand it! I’m going! Goes off, but at once returns. All is over between us! Goes off into the anteroom.
Lyubov Shouts after him. Petya! Wait a minute! You funny creature! I was joking! Petya! There is a sound of somebody running quickly downstairs and suddenly falling with a crash. Anya and Varya scream, but there is a sound of laughter at once.
Lyubov What has happened?
Anya runs in.
Anya Laughing. Petya’s fallen downstairs! Runs out.
Lyubov What a queer fellow that Petya is!
The Station Master stands in the middle of the larger room and reads “The Magdalene,” by Alexey Tolstoy. They listen to him, but before he has recited many lines strains of a waltz are heard from the anteroom and the reading is broken off. All dance. Trofimov, Anya, Varya and Lyubov Andreyevna come in from the anteroom.
Lyubov Come, Petya⁠—come, pure heart! I beg your pardon. Let’s have a dance! Dances with Petya.
Anya and Varya dance. Firs comes in, puts his stick down near the side door. Yasha also comes into the drawing-room and looks on at the dancing.
Yasha What is it, old man?
Firs I don’t feel well. In old days we used to have generals, barons and admirals dancing at our balls, and now we send for the post-office clerk and the station master and even they’re not overanxious to come. I am getting feeble. The old master, the grandfather, used to give sealing-wax for all complaints. I have been taking sealing-wax for twenty years or more. Perhaps that’s what’s kept me alive.
Yasha You bore me, old man! Yawns. It’s time you were done with.
Firs Ach, you’re a good-for-nothing! Mutters.
Trofimov and Lyubov Andreyevna dance in the larger room and then on to the stage.
Lyubov Merci. I’ll sit down a little sits down. I’m tired.
Enter Anya.
Anya Excitedly. There’s a man in the kitchen has been saying that the cherry orchard’s been sold today.
Lyubov Sold to whom?
Anya He didn’t say to whom. He’s gone away.
She dances with Trofimov, and they go off into the larger room.
Yasha There was an old man gossiping there, a stranger.
Firs Leonid Andreyevitch isn’t here yet, he hasn’t come back. He has his light overcoat on, demi-saison, he’ll catch cold for sure. Ach! Foolish young things!!
Lyubov I feel as though I should die. Go, Yasha, find out to whom it has been sold.
Yasha But he went away long ago, the old chap laughs.
Lyubov With slight vexation. What are you laughing at? What are you pleased at?
Yasha Epihodov is so funny. He’s a silly fellow, two and twenty misfortunes.
Lyubov Firs, if the estate is sold, where will you go?
Firs Where you bid me, there I’ll go.
Lyubov Why do you look like that? Are you ill? You ought to be in bed.
Firs Yes ironically. Me go to bed and who’s to wait here? Who’s to see to things without me? I’m the only one in all the house.
Yasha To Lyubov Andreyevna. Lyubov Andreyevna, permit me to make a request of you; if you go back to Paris again, be so kind as to take me with you. It’s positively impossible for me to stay here looking about him; in an undertone. There’s no need to say it, you see for yourself⁠—an uncivilised country, the people have no morals, and then the dullness! The food in the kitchen’s abominable, and then Firs runs after one muttering all sorts of unsuitable words. Take me with you, please do!
Enter Pishtchik.
Pishtchik Allow me to ask you for a waltz, my dear lady. Lyubov Andreyevna goes with him. Enchanting lady, I really must borrow of you just 180 roubles dances, only 180 roubles. They pass into the larger room.
Yasha Hums softly. “Knowest thou my soul’s emotion.”
In the larger drawing-room, a figure in a grey top hat and in check trousers is gesticulating and jumping about. Shouts of “Bravo, Charlotta Ivanovna.”
Dunyasha She has stopped to powder herself. My young lady tells me to dance. There are plenty of gentlemen, and too few ladies, but dancing makes me giddy and makes my heart beat. Firs, the post-office clerk said something to me just now that quite took my breath away.
Music becomes more subdued.
Firs What did he say to you?
Dunyasha He said I was like a flower.
Yasha Yawns. What ignorance! Goes out.
Dunyasha Like a flower. I am a girl of such delicate feelings, I am awfully fond of soft speeches.
Firs Your head’s being turned.
Enter Epihodov.
Epihodov You have no desire to see me, Dunyasha. I might be an insect sighs. Ah! life!
Dunyasha What is it you want?
Epihodov Undoubtedly you may be right sighs. But of course, if one looks at it from that point of view, if I may so express myself, you have, excuse my plain speaking, reduced me to a complete state of mind. I know my destiny. Every day some misfortune befalls me and I have long ago grown accustomed to it, so that I look upon my fate with a smile. You gave me your word, and though I⁠—
Dunyasha Let us have a talk later, I entreat you, but now leave me in peace, for I am lost in reverie plays with her fan.
Epihodov I have a misfortune every day, and if I may venture to express myself, I merely smile at it, I even laugh.
Varya enters from the larger drawing-room.
Varya You still have not gone, Epihodov. What a disrespectful creature you are, really! To Dunyasha. Go along, Dunyasha! To Epihodov. First you play billiards and break the cue, then you go wandering about the drawing-room like a visitor!
Epihodov You really cannot, if I may so express myself, call me to account like this.
Varya I’m not calling you to account, I’m speaking to you. You do nothing but wander from place to place and don’t do your work. We keep you as a countinghouse clerk, but what use you are I can’t say.
Epihodov Offended. Whether I work or whether I walk, whether I eat or whether I play billiards, is a matter to be judged by persons of understanding and my elders.
Varya You dare to tell me that! Firing up. You dare! You mean to say I’ve no understanding. Begone from here! This minute!
Epihodov Intimidated. I beg you to express yourself with delicacy.
Varya Beside herself with anger. This moment! get out! away! He goes towards the door, she following him. Two and twenty misfortunes! Take yourself off! Don’t let me set eyes on you! Epihodov has gone out, behind the door his voice, “I shall lodge a complaint against you.” What! You’re coming back? Snatches up the stick Firs has put down near the door. Come! Come! Come! I’ll show you! What! you’re coming? Then take that! She swings the stick, at the very moment that Lopahin comes in.
Lopahin Very much obliged to you!
Varya Angrily and ironically. I beg your pardon!
Lopahin Not at all! I humbly thank you for your kind reception!
Varya No need of thanks for it moves away, then looks round and asks softly. I haven’t hurt you?
Lopahin Oh, no! Not at all! There’s an immense bump coming up, though!
Voices from Larger Room Lopahin has come! Yermolay Alexeyevitch!
Pishtchik What do I see and hear? Kisses Lopahin. There’s whiff of cognac about about you, my dear soul, and we’re making merry here too!
Enter Lyubov Andreyevna.
Lyubov Is it you, Yermolay Alexeyevitch? Why have you been so long? Where’s Leonid?
Lopahin Leonid Andreyevitch arrived with me. He is coming.
Lyubov In agitation. Well! Well! Was there a sale? Speak!
Lopahin Embarrassed, afraid of betraying his joy. The sale was over at four o’clock. We missed our train⁠—had to wait till half-past nine. Sighing heavily. Ugh! I feel a little giddy.
Enter Gaev. In his right hand he has purchases, with his left hand he is wiping away his tears.
Lyubov Well, Leonid? What news? Impatiently, with tears. Make haste, for God’s sake!
Gaev Makes her no answer, simply waves his hand. To Firs, weeping. Here, take them; there’s anchovies, Kertch herrings. I have eaten nothing all day. What I have been through! Door into the billiard room is open. There is heard a knocking of balls and the voice of Yasha saying “Eighty-seven.” Gaev’s expression changes, he leaves off weeping. I am fearfully tired. Firs, come and help me change my things goes to his own room across the larger drawing-room.
Pishtchik How about the sale? Tell us, do!
Lyubov Is the cherry orchard sold?
Lopahin It is sold.
Lyubov Who has bought it?
Lopahin I have bought it. A pause. Lyubov is crushed; she would fall down if she were not standing near a chair and table.
Varya takes keys from her waistband, flings them on the floor in middle of the drawing-room and goes out.
Lopahin I have bought it! Wait a bit, ladies and gentlemen, pray. My head’s a bit muddled, I can’t speak laughs. We came to the auction. Deriganov was there already. Leonid Andreyevitch only had fifteen thousand and Deriganov bid thirty thousand, besides the arrears, straight off. I saw how the land lay. I bid against him. I bid forty thousand, he bid forty-five thousand, I said fifty-five, and so he went on, adding five thousands and I adding ten. Well⁠ ⁠… So it ended. I bid ninety, and it was knocked down to me. Now the cherry orchard’s mine! Mine! Chuckles. My God, the cherry orchard’s mine! Tell me that I’m drunk, that I’m out of my mind, that it’s all a dream stamps with his feet. Don’t laugh at me! If my father and my grandfather could rise from their graves and see all that has happened! How their Yermolay, ignorant, beaten Yermolay, who used to run about barefoot in winter, how that very Yermolay has bought the finest estate in the world! I have bought the estate where my father and grandfather were slaves, where they weren’t even admitted into the kitchen. I am asleep, I am dreaming! It is all fancy, it is the work of your imagination plunged in the darkness of ignorance picks up keys, smiling fondly. She threw away the keys; she means to show she’s not the housewife now jingles the keys. Well, no matter. The orchestra is heard tuning up. Hey, musicians! Play! I want to hear you. Come, all of you, and look how Yermolay Lopahin will take the axe to the cherry orchard, how the trees will fall to the ground! We will build houses on it and our grandsons and great-grandsons will see a new life springing up there. Music! Play up!
Music begins to play. Lyubov Andreyevna has sunk into a chair and is weeping bitterly.
Lopahin Reproachfully. Why, why didn’t you listen to me? My poor friend! Dear lady, there’s no turning back now. With tears. Oh, if all this could be over, oh, if our miserable disjointed life could somehow soon be changed!
Pishtchik Takes him by the arm, in an undertone. She’s weeping, let us go and leave her alone. Come takes him by the arm and leads him into the larger drawing-room.
Lopahin What’s that? Musicians, play up! All must be as I wish it. With irony. Here comes the new master, the owner of the cherry orchard! Accidentally tips over a little table, almost upsetting the candelabra. I can pay for everything! Goes out with Pishtchik. No one remains on the stage or in the larger drawing-room except Lyubov, who sits huddled up, weeping bitterly. The music plays softly. Anya and Trofimov come in quickly. Anya goes up to her mother and falls on her knees before her. Trofimov stands at the entrance to the larger drawing-room.
Anya Mamma! Mamma, you’re crying, dear, kind, good mamma! My precious! I love you! I bless you! The cherry orchard is sold, it is gone, that’s true, that’s true! But don’t weep, mamma! Life is still before you, you have still your good, pure heart! Let us go, let us go, darling, away from here! We will make a new garden, more splendid than this one; you will see it, you will understand. And joy, quiet, deep joy, will sink into your soul like the sun at evening! And you will smile, mamma! Come, darling, let us go!
Curtain.