to say something very pleasant, very delightful, to you. [Looks at his watch] I’m going away at once, I haven’t much time… but I’ll tell you all about it in two or three words. As you already know, your cherry orchard is to be sold to pay your debts, and the sale is fixed for August 22; but you needn’t be alarmed, dear madam, you may sleep in peace; there’s a way out. Here’s my plan. Please attend carefully! Your estate is only thirteen miles from the town, the railway runs by, and if the cherry orchard and the land by the river are broken up into building lots and are then leased off for villas you’ll get at least twenty-five thousand roubles a year profit out of it.
Gaev. How utterly absurd!
Lubov. I don’t understand you at all, Ermolai Alexeyevitch.
Lopakhin. You will get twenty-five roubles a year for each dessiatin from the leaseholders at the very least, and if you advertise now I’m willing to bet that you won’t have a vacant plot left by the autumn; they’ll all go. In a word, you’re saved. I congratulate you. Only, of course, you’ll have to put things straight, and clean up… For instance, you’ll have to pull down all the old buildings, this house, which isn’t any use to anybody now, and cut down the old cherry orchard…
Lubov. Cut it down? My dear man, you must excuse me, but you don’t understand anything at all. If there’s anything interesting or remarkable in the whole province, it’s this cherry orchard of ours.
Lopakhin. The only remarkable thing about the orchard is that it’s very large. It only bears fruit every other year, and even then you don’t know what to do with them; nobody buys any.
Gaev. This orchard is mentioned in the “Encyclopaedic Dictionary.”
Lopakhin. [Looks at his watch] If we can’t think of anything and don’t make up our minds to anything, then on August 22, both the cherry orchard and the whole estate will be up for auction. Make up your mind! I swear there’s no other way out, I’ll swear it again.
Fiers. In the old days, forty or fifty years back, they dried the cherries, soaked them and pickled them, and made jam of them, and it used to happen that…
Gaev. Be quiet, Fiers.
Fiers. And then we’d send the dried cherries off in carts to Moscow and Kharkov. And money! And the dried cherries were soft, juicy, sweet, and nicely scented… They knew the way…
Lubov. What was the way?
Fiers. They’ve forgotten. Nobody remembers.
Pischin. [To Lubov Andreyevna] What about Paris? Eh? Did you eat frogs?
Lubov. I ate crocodiles.
Pischin. To think of that, now.
Lopakhin. Up to now in the villages there were only the gentry and the labourers, and now the people who live in villas have arrived. All towns now, even small ones, are surrounded by villas. And it’s safe to say that in twenty years’ time the villa resident will be all over the place. At present he sits on his balcony and drinks tea, but it may well come to pass that he’ll begin to cultivate his patch of land, and then your cherry orchard will be happy, rich, splendid…
Gaev. [Angry] What rot!
Enter Varya and Yasha.
Varya. There are two telegrams for you, little mother. [Picks out a key and noisily unlocks an antique cupboard] Here they are.
Lubov. They’re from Paris… [Tears them up without reading them] I’ve done with Paris.
Gaev. And do you know, Luba, how old this case is? A week ago I took out the bottom drawer; I looked and saw figures burnt out in it. That case was made exactly a hundred years ago. What do you think of that? What? We could celebrate its jubilee. It hasn’t a soul of its own, but still, say what you will, it’s a fine bookcase.
Pischin. [Astonished] A hundred years… Think of that!
Gaev. Yes… it’s a real thing. [Handling it] My dear and honoured case! I congratulate you on your existence, which has already for more than a hundred years been directed towards the bright ideals of good and justice; your silent call to productive labour has not grown less in the hundred years [Weeping] during which you have upheld virtue and faith in a better future to the generations of our race, educating us up to ideals of goodness and to the knowledge of a common consciousness.
Pause.
Lopakhin. Yes…
Lubov. You’re just the same as ever, Leon.
Gaev. [A little confused] Off the white on the right, into the corner pocket. Red ball goes into the middle pocket!
Lopakhin. [Looks at his watch] It’s time I went.
Yasha. [Giving Lubov Andreyevna her medicine] Will you take your pills now?
Pischin. You oughtn’t to take medicines, dear madam; they do you neither harm nor good… Give them here, dear madam. [Takes the pills, turns them out into the palm of his hand, blows on them, puts them into his mouth, and drinks some kvass] There!
Lubov. [Frightened] You’re off your head!
Pischin. I’ve taken all the pills.
Lopakhin. Gormandizer!
All laugh.
Fiers. They were here in Easter week and ate half a pailful of cucumbers… [Mumbles.]
Lubov. What’s he driving at?
Varya. He’s been mumbling away for three years. We’re used to that.
Yasha. Senile decay.
Charlotta Ivanovna crosses the stage, dressed in white: she is very thin and tightly laced; has a lorgnette at her waist.
Lopakhin. Excuse me, Charlotta Ivanovna, I haven’t said “How do you do” to you yet. [Tries to kiss her hand.]
Charlotta. [Takes her hand away] If you let people kiss your hand, then they’ll want your elbow, then your shoulder, and then…
Lopakhin. My luck’s out today! [All laugh] Show us a trick, Charlotta Ivanovna!
Lubov Andreyevna.
