Delphi Complete Works of Anton Chekhov

SCENE XII.

The SAME,

PLATONOV and TRILETZKY.

PLATONOV (-pushing Triletzky out of the school- house). Get out! Go this instant to the sick shopkeeper! March!

TRILETZKY (stretching). Much better if you had waited to drive me out with a stick tomorrow than wake me out of my sleep tonight!

PLATONOV. You’re a wretch, Nikolai, a wretch! D’you understand?

TRILETZKY. What’s one to do if God made me one?

PLATONOV. Suppose the shopkeeper’s already died!

TRILETZKY. If he’s died, then the Kingdom of Heaven to him... But if he’s still alive, then you speak these terrible words in vain... I’m not going to the shopkeeper! I want to sleep!

PLATONOV. You’ll go, you beast! You’ll go! (Pushes him.) I shan’t let you sleep! What do you think you are? What are you making of yourself! Why aren’t you doing anything? You are wasting your best days. . . .

TRILETZKY. Stop worrying me... What right, brother, have you . . .

PLATONOV. What sort of creature are you, will you tell me? For what do you live? Why don’t you continue with your science? Eh, beast?

TRILETZKY. We’ll discuss this interesting subject when I feel less sleepy... Now let me go and sleep... (Scratches his head.) The devil know what! Neither here, nor there, but wake up, you wretch! H’m . . . Honest rules . . . May the devil swallow them, these honest rules!

PLATONOV. What God do you serve, you strange object? What kind of a man are you? Where shall we end?

TRILETZKY. Listen, Mikhail Vassilyitch, who gave you the right to stick your cold paws into others’ hearts? Your lack of ceremony is amazing!

PLATONOV. We shall come to nothing! We are a lost people! We’re not worth a farthing! (Weeps.) There’s not a soul who might rest one’s eyes! How drab everything is, how filthy, how threadbare... Get out, Nikolai! Go away!

TRILETZKY (shrugging). He’s crying! (Pause.) Very well, I’ll go and see the shopkeeper! D’you hear? I’m going!

PLATONOV. AS you like!

TRILETZKY. Yes, I’m going! As you see, I’m going. . . .

PLATONOV (stamping his feet). Get out!

TRILETZKY. Very well... You’d better go to bed, Misha! It isn’t worth being cut up about it! Goodbye! (Goes, then pauses.) One word before I go.

. . . Counsel all preachers, including yourself, to practise what they preach... Another thing... One shouldn’t waste words on you... One ought to give you a good drubbing; make mincemeat of you... And I ought to break with you forever on account of the little girl. ... I ought to tell you something which you haven’t heard before! But . . . I can’t! I’m a poor sort of duellist! That’s your luck! . . . (Pause.) Good-bye! (Walks away.)