Complete Works of Anton Chekhov

SCENE IX.

VENGEROVITCH I and OSSIP (in the depth of scene),

PLATONOV and GREKOVA.

PLATONOV (laughing). What, what? How? Have I heard aright?

GREKOVA. Heard aright? I’ll repeat it if you like... I’ll express myself even more emphatically... Your feelings will not be outraged, of course . . . you’re so used to all sorts of indignities that my words will scarcely prove a novelty to you. . . .

PLATONOV. Speak them, speak them, my beauty! GREKOVA. I’m not a beauty. He who considers me a beauty is lacking in taste... Do you really consider me beautiful? Speak frankly.

PLATONOV. I’ll tell you later... You speak first what you have to say!

GREKOVA. Listen then . . . You’re either an extraordinary man, or ... a worthless wretch . . . one of the two.

PLATONOV (laughs).

GREKOVA. GO on laughing! It’s a laughing matter. (Laughs.)

PLATONOV (still laughing). To think that she said it!

You little silly! Go on speaking! (Puts his arm round her waist.)

GREKOVA {sitting down). Allow me to . . .

PLATONOV. To think that she goes among other people! She philosophizes, is occupied with chemistry, and makes such utterances! (Kisses her.) What a handsome, original creature!

GREKOVA. Allow me to . . . But I did not say . . . (She rises and sits down again.) Why do you kiss me? I did not . . .

PLATONOV. You said it, and what you said was astonishing. Isn’t it what you intended? Let him see what a clever girl I am! (Kisses her.) Look how abashed she is . . . Ah!

GREKOVA. You . . . Do you love me? Yes? Yes?

PLATONOV (in a piping voice). And do you love me? GREKOVA. If . . . if . . . that is . . . yes . . . (Weeps.) Do you love me? You couldn’t have done this otherwise... Do you love me?

PLATONOV. Not a drop, my beauty! But I love little fools, sinner that I am! I love a fool of a girl, and that only from having nothing better to do. Oh, you’ve grown pale! And there’s a gleam in your eyes! Know, then, our kind!

GREKOVA (rises from her seat). Are you making mock of me? (Pause.)

PLATONOV. She’s ready to smack my face... GREKOVA. I am proud. ... I wouldn’t soil my hands... I’ve just told you, dear sir, that you’re either an extraordinary man or a wretch. Now I can tell you that I think you an extraordinary wretch! I detest you! (Goes toward the house.) I’ll not repay you now. ... I’m glad to find out the sort of bird you are... (Enter Triletzky.)