Do you want to be a Countess or not?
MARTHA. [Excitedly] Wait a minute; really, Misha, these things aren’t done in a second like this. If the Count wants to marry me, let him ask me himself, and — and — I don’t see, I don’t understand — all this is so sudden ——
BORKIN. Come, don’t let us beat about the bush; this is a business arrangement. Do you agree or not?
SHABELSKI. [Chuckling and rubbing his hands] Supposing I do marry her, eh? Hang it, why shouldn’t I play her this shabby trick? What do you say, little puss? [He kisses her cheek] Dearest chick-a-biddy!
MARTHA. Stop! Stop! I hardly know what I am doing. Go away! No — don’t go!
BORKIN. Answer at once: is it yes or no? We can’t stand here forever.
MARTHA. Look here, Count, come and visit me for three or four days. It is gay at my house, not like this place. Come tomorrow. [To BORKIN] Or is this all a joke?
BORKIN. [Angrily] How could I joke on such a serious subject?
MARTHA. Wait! Stop! Oh, I feel faint! A Countess! I am fainting, I am falling!
BORKIN and SHABELSKI laugh and catch her by the arms. They kiss her cheeks and lead her out through the door on the right. IVANOFF and SASHA run in from the garden.
IVANOFF. [Desperately clutching his head] It can’t be true! Don’t Sasha, don’t! Oh, I implore you not to!
SASHA. I love you madly. Without you my life can have no meaning, no happiness, no hope.
IVANOFF. Why, why do you say that? What do you mean? Little Sasha, don’t say it!
SASHA. You were the only joy of my childhood; I loved you body and soul then, as myself, but now — Oh, I love you, Nicholas! Take me with you to the ends of the earth, wherever you wish; but for heaven’s sake let us go at once, or I shall die.
IVANOFF. [Shaking with wild laughter] What is this? Is it the beginning for me of a new life? Is it, Sasha? Oh, my happiness, my joy! [He draws her to him] My freshness, my youth!
Enter ANNA from the garden. She sees her husband and SASHA, and stops as if petrified.
IVANOFF. Oh, then I shall live once more? And work?
IVANOFF and SASHA kiss each other. After the kiss they look around and see ANNA.
IVANOFF. [With horror] Sarah!
The curtain falls.
ACT III
Library in IVANOFF’S house. On the walls hang maps, pictures, guns, pistols, sickles, whips, etc. A writing-table. On it lie in disorder knick-knacks, papers, books, parcels, and several revolvers. Near the papers stand a lamp, a decanter of vodka, and a plate of salted herrings. Pieces of bread and cucumber are scattered about. SHABELSKI and LEBEDIEFF are sitting at the writing-table. BORKIN is sitting astride a chair in the middle of the room. PETER is standing near the door.
LEBEDIEFF. The policy of France is clear and definite; the French know what they want: it is to skin those German sausages, but the Germans must sing another song; France is not the only thorn in their flesh.
SHABELSKI. Nonsense! In my opinion the Germans are cowards and the French are the same. They are showing their teeth at one another, but you can take my word for it, they will not do more than that; they’ll never fight!
BORKIN. Why should they fight? Why all these congresses, this arming and expense? Do you know what I would do in their place? I would catch all the dogs in the kingdom and inoculate them with Pasteur’s serum, then I would let them loose in the enemy’s country, and the enemies would all go mad in a month.
LEBEDIEFF. [Laughing] His head is small, but the great ideas are hidden away in it like fish in the sea!
SHABELSKI. Oh, he is a genius.
LEBEDIEFF. Heaven help you, Misha, you are a funny chap. [He stops laughing] But how is this, gentlemen? Here we are talking Germany, Germany, and never a word about vodka! Repetatur! [He fills three glasses] Here’s to you all! [He drinks and eats] This herring is the best of all relishes.
SHABELSKI. No, no, these cucumbers are better; every wise man since the creation of the world has been trying to invent something better than a salted cucumber, and not one has succeeded. [To PETER] Peter, go and fetch some more cucumbers. And Peter, tell the cook to make four little onion pasties, and see that we get them hot.
PETER goes out.
LEBEDIEFF. Caviar is good with vodka, but it must be prepared with skill. Take a quarter of a pound of pressed caviar, two little onions, and a little olive oil; mix them together and put a slice of lemon on top — so! Lord! The very perfume would drive you crazy!
BORKIN. Roast snipe are good too, but they must be cooked right. They should first be cleaned, then sprinkled with bread crumbs, and roasted until they will crackle between the teeth — crunch, crunch!
SHABELSKI. We had something good at Martha’s yesterday: white mushrooms.
LEBEDIEFF. You don’t say so!
SHABELSKI. And they were especially well prepared, too, with onions and bay-leaves and spices, you know. When the dish was opened, the odour that floated out was simply intoxicating!
LEBEDIEFF. What do you say, gentlemen? Repetatur! [He drinks] Good health to you! [He looks at his watch] I must be going. I can’t wait for Nicholas. So you say Martha gave you mushrooms? We haven’t seen one at home. Will you please tell me, Count, what plot you are hatching that takes you to Martha’s so often?
SHABELSKI. [Nodding at BORKIN] He wants me to marry her.
LEBEDIEFF. Wants you to marry her! How old are you?
SHABELSKI. Sixty-two.
LEBEDIEFF. Really, you are just the age to marry, aren’t you? And Martha is just suited to you!
BORKIN. This is not a question of Martha, but of Martha’s money.
LEBEDIEFF. Aren’t you moonstruck, and don’t you want the moon too?
SHABELSKI. Borkin here is quite in earnest about it; the clever fellow is sure I shall obey orders, and marry Martha.
BORKIN. What do you mean? Aren’t you sure yourself?
SHABELSKI. Are you mad? I never was sure of anything. Bah!
BORKIN. Many thanks! I am much obliged to you for the information. So you are trying to fool me, are you? First you say you will marry Martha and then you say you won’t; the devil only knows which you really mean, but I have given her my word of honour that you will. So you have changed your mind, have you?
SHABELSKI. He is actually in earnest; what an extraordinary man!
BORKIN. [losing his temper] If that is how you feel about it, why have you turned an honest woman’s head? Her heart is set on your title, and she can neither eat nor sleep for thinking of it. How can you make a jest of such things? Do you think such behaviour is honourable?
SHABELSKI. [Snapping his fingers] Well, why not play her this shabby trick, after all? Eh? Just out of spite? I shall certainly do it, upon my word I shall! What a joke it will be!
Enter LVOFF.
LEBEDIEFF. We bow before you, Aesculapius! [He shakes hands with LVOFF and sings]
“Doctor, doctor, save, oh, save me,
I am scared to death of dying!”
LVOFF. Hasn’t Ivanoff come home yet?
LEBEDIEFF. Not yet. I have been waiting for him myself for over an hour.
LVOFF walks impatiently up and down.
LEBEDIEFF.