The Complete Plays

PLATONOV. Well, look, I can’t sing his praises like that. We had a falling-out, when I still didn’t have a hair on my chin, and for the last three years we were bitter enemies. I did not respect him, he considered me to be good for nothing, and . . . we were both right. I do not like the man! I do not like the fact that he died in his bed. He died the way honest men die. He was a sonuvabitch and at the same time refused to admit it—terribly characteristic of the Russian scoundrel!

GLAGOLYEV SR. De mortuis aut bene, aut nihil,¹⁴ Mikhail Vasilich!

PLATONOV. No . . . That’s a Latin heresy. The way I see it: de omnibus aut nihil, aut veritas.¹⁵ But veritas is better than nihil, it’s more instructive, at any rate . . . I insist that you don’t have to make excuses for the dead . . .

Enter IVAN IVANOVICH.

SCENE VI

The same and IVAN IVANOVICH.

IVAN IVANOVICH (enters). Ta-ran-ta-ra . . . My son-in-law and my daughter! Luminaries from the constellation of Colonel Triletsky! Good afternoon, my dears! A Krupp gun¹⁶ salute! My friends, this heat! Mishenka, my dear boy . . .

PLATONOV (gets up). Greetings . . . Colonel! (Embraces him.) How’s your health?

IVAN IVANOVICH. Never better . . . The Lord is patient and doesn’t punish me. Sashenka . . . (Kisses Sasha on the head.) Haven’t set eyes on you for ever so long . . . How’s your health, Sashenka?

SASHA. Good . . . You’re all right?

IVAN IVANOVICH (sits next to Sasha). I’m always healthy. Never been sick a day in my life . . . It’s been so long since I’ve seen you! Every day I intend to visit you, see my grandson and carp about the whole wide world with my son-in-law, but I can never make up my mind to do it . . . Too busy, my angel! Day before yesterday I wanted to drive over, wanted to show you my new double-barrel shotgun, Mishenka, but the district police chief detained me and I had to sit down to a game of cards . . . It’s a wonderful double-barrel! Anglish make, buckshot range of five hundred feet . . . Is my grandson well?

SASHA. He is, and sends his regards . . .

IVAN IVANOVICH. Does he really know how to send regards?

VOINITSEV. You have to take it figuratively.

IVAN IVANOVICH. All right, all right . . . Figuratively . . . Tell him, Sashurka, to grow up fast. I’ll take him hunting with me . . . I’ve already got a little double-barrel ready for him . . . I’ll make a huntsman of him, so that I can leave him my hunting gear . . .

ANNA PETROVNA. Our Ivan Ivanych is a sweetheart! He and I shall go shooting quail on St. Peter’s day.¹⁷

IVAN IVANOVICH. Ho-ho! Anna Petrovna, we shall mount an expedition against the snipe. We shall mount a polar expedition to Devil’s Swamp . . .

ANNA PETROVNA. We’ll try out your double-barrel . . .

IVAN IVANOVICH. We shall indeed. Diana¹⁸ the divine! (Kisses her hand.) You remember last year, my dear? Ha, ha! I love your kind of person, god-damit! I don’t care for the faint-hearted! Why, she’s a women’s emancipation movement all by herself! Get a whiff of her lovely shoulder, and it’s scented with gunpowder. It smells of Hannibals and Hamilcars!¹⁹ A military governor, quite the military governor! Give her a pair of epaulettes, and the world will be at her feet! Let’s go! And take Sasha with us! We’ll take everybody! We’ll show them what a warrior’s blood is like, Diana the divine, your excellency, Alexandra the Great!

PLATONOV. Had a drop already, colonel?

IVAN IVANOVICH. Naturally . . . Sans doute . . .²⁰

PLATONOV. So that accounts for all the blather . . .

IVAN IVANOVICH. I got here, my dear chum, around eight o’clock . . . You were all still asleep . . . I got here, and cooled my heels . . . I look, she comes out . . . laughs . . . A bottle of Madeira we opened. Diana drank three little glasses, and I had the rest . . .

ANNA PETROVNA. You don’t have to tell them about it!

TRILETSKY runs in.

SCENE VII

The same and TRILETSKY.

TRILETSKY. Welcome, nearest and dearest!

PLATONOV. Ah-ah-ah . . . The quack personal physician to her Excellency! Argentum nitricum . . . aquae destillatae . . .²¹ Delighted to see you, my dear fellow! He’s healthy, sleek, glistening, and aromatic!

TRILETSKY (kisses Sasha’s head). Your Mikhail’s damn well bulked up! An ox, an honest-to-God ox!

SASHA. Faugh, what a stench of cologne! Are you well?

TRILETSKY. Fit as a fiddle. Nice of you to show up. (Sits down.) How’s business, Michel?

PLATONOV. What business?

TRILETSKY. Yours, naturally.

PLATONOV. Mine? Who knows what that may be! It would take a long time in the telling, pal, and be of no interest. Where did you get such a chic haircut? A handsome coiffure! Did it cost a ruble?

TRILETSKY. I don’t let barbers get near it . . . I’ve got some ladies for that, and I don’t pay ladies for haircuts in rubles . . . (Eats fruit-flavored jelly beans.) Dear old pal, what I . . .

PLATONOV. About to be witty? That’s a no-no . . . Don’t take the trouble! Spare us, please.

SCENE VIII

The same, PETRIN, and VENGEROVICH SR.

PETRIN enters with a newspaper and sits down.

VENGEROVICH SR. sits in the corner.

TRILETSKY (to Ivan Ivanovich). If you have tears, prepare to shed them now, my progenitor!

IVAN IVANOVICH. Why should I shed tears?

TRILETSKY. Well, for instance, for joy . . . Look upon me! I am thy son! . . . (Points at Sasha.) She is thy daughter! (Points at Platonov.) That youth is thy son-in-law! The daughter alone is worth a tidy sum! She is a pearl of great price, daddy dearest! Thou alone couldst have engendered such an enchanting daughter! And what about the son-in-law?

IVAN IVANOVICH. Why should I shed tears over that, my son? There’s no need for tears.

TRILETSKY. And what about the son-in-law? Oh . . . that son-in-law! You couldn’t find another like him if you searched the wide world over! Honest, noble, big-hearted, just! And your grandson? He’s the double-damnedest little boy! Waves his hands, reaches out like this and won’t stop squealing: “Grampa! grampa! Where’s grampa? Let me at him, the cutthroat, let me at his whiskers!”

IVAN IVANOVICH (looks in his pocket for a handkerchief). Why should I shed tears? Well, God be praised . . . (Weeps.) There’s no call for tears.

TRILETSKY. Shedding tears, colonel?

IVAN IVANOVICH. No . . . What for? Well, praise the Lord! . . . So what?

PLATONOV. Stop it, Nikolay!

TRILETSKY (gets up and sits down next to Bugrov). The atmospheric temperature is a hot one today, Timofey Gordeich!