Complete Works of Anton Chekhov

SCENE V

ELENA ANDREYEVNA AND VOYNITSKY

ELENA ANDREYEVNA: I’m worn out by him. I can hardly stand.

VOYNITSKY: You’re worn out by him, and I’m worn out by myself. I’ve not slept for three nights.

ELENA ANDREYEVNA: There’s something wrong about this house. Your mother hates everything, except her little books and the professor. The professor is irritable; he doesn’t trust me; he’s afraid of you. Sonya is cross with her father and does not speak to me; you hate my husband and openly despise your mother; my boring self, I too am irritated, and to-day I was twenty times on the point of crying. In a word,

it’s a war of all against all. What’s the sense of that war,

what’s it for?

VOYNITSKY: Don’t let us philosophize!

ELENA ANDREYEVNA: There’s something wrong about this house. You, George, are well-educated, intelligent, and it seems that you ought to understand that the world perishes not because of murderers and thieves, but from hidden hatred, from hostility among good people, from all those petty squabbles, unseen by those who call our house a haven of intellectuals. Do help me to reconcile everyone! Alone I cannot do it!

VOYNITSKY: You first reconcile me to myself! My dear! . . . (Clinging to her hand.)

ELENA ANDREYEVNA: You must not! (drawing her hand.) Go away!

VOYNITSKY: The rain will pass presently, and everything in nature will be refreshed and breathe freely. I alone shall not be refreshed by the storm. Day and night I am haunted and oppressed by the idea that my life has been wasted irretrievably. I have no past, it was all stupidly thrown away on trifles; and the present is terrible in its absurdity.

Here’s my life and love: what shall I do with them, what use can I make of them? My feelings are wasted, like a sunbeam that falls into a ditch, and I myself am wasted. . . .

ELENA ANDREYEVNA: When you speak to me of your love,

T grow stupid and don’t know what to say. Forgive me, I can’t say anything to you. (Making as if to go) Good night!

VOYNITSKY (barring her way): If only you knew how I suffer from the thought that side by side with me in this house another life is being wasted — your own! What are you waiting for? What cursed philosophy stands in your way? Understand, the highest morality does not consist in putting fetters on your youth and in trying to suppress your thirst for life. . . .

ELENA ANDREYEVNA (looking fixedly at him): George,

you’re drunk!

VOYNITSKY: Maybe, maybe! . . .

ELENA ANDREYEVNA: Is Fyodor Ivanovich stopping here with you?

VOYNITSKY: He’s stopping the night with me. Maybe,

maybe... Anything may be!

ELENA ANDREYEVNA: And you’ve been drinking together to-day? Why did you do it?

VOYNITSKY: At any rate, it resembles life... Don’t take it away from me, Elena!

ELENA ANDREYEVNA: Formerly you never used to drink,

and you never talked so much, as you do now. Go to bed!

You bore me. And tell your Fyodor Ivanovich that if he does not stop worrying me I will take steps to stop him!

Go!

VOYNITSKY (clinging to her hand): My dear! . . . Dearest!

ENTER KHROUSCHOV.