PLATONOV. Weak chest, Pavel Petrovich!
SHCHERBUK (points at Triletsky). He told you that? Believe him, that empty vessel, and you’ll soon be losing your head!
TRILETSKY. Please don’t be abusive, Pavel Petrovich.
SHCHERBUK. He treated my lumbago . . . Don’t eat this, don’t eat that, don’t sleep on the floor . . . Well, he didn’t cure it. So I ask him: “Why did you take my money, and not cure me?” So he says: “It’s an either-or situation,” he says, “either I cure you or I take your money.” How do you like that sort of fellow?
TRILETSKY. Why are you lying, Beelzebub Bucephalovich?30 How much money did you give me, may I ask? Try to remember! I paid you six visits and got only a ruble, and a torn one at that . . . I wanted to give it to a beggar and the beggar wouldn’t take it. “It’s all tore up,” he says, “ain’t no serial number!”
SHCHERBUK. He came by six times not because I was sick, but because my tenant’s daughter is a kek shows.31
TRILETSKY. Platonov, you’re sitting next to him . . . Bop him one on his bald spot for me! Do me a favor!
SHCHERBUK. Leave me alone! That’s enough! Do not rouse the sleeping lion! You’ve got a lot to learn. (To Platonov.) And your father was a fine fellow too! He and I and the colonel were great friends. Quite the practical joker he was! Nowadays you won’t find three such mischief-makers as we were . . . Ehhh. Those times are gone forever . . . (to Petrin.) Gerasya! Show some fear of God! We’re conversing here, and you’re reading aloud! Show some manners!
PETRIN goes on reading.
SASHA (nudges Ivan Ivanovich’s shoulder). Papa! Papa, don’t fall asleep here! Shame on you!
IVAN IVANOVICH wakes up and a minute later falls asleep again.
SHCHERBUK. No . . . I can’t talk! . . . (Gets up.) Listen to him . . . He’s reading! . . .
PETRIN (gets up and walks over to Platonov). What did you say, sir?
PLATONOV. Absolutely nothing . . .
PETRIN. No, you said something, sir . . . You said something about Petrin . . .
PLATONOV. You were dreaming, I suppose . . .
PETRIN. Are you criticizing, sir?
PLATONOV. I didn’t say anything! I assure you that you dreamed it up!
PETRIN. You can say whatever you like . . . Petrin . . . Petrin . . . What about Petrin? (Stuffs the paper into his pocket.) Petrin, maybe, studied at the university, got a degree in law, maybe . . . Are you aware of that? . . . My law degree will be part of me until my dying day . . . So that’s how it is, sir. A senior civil servant . . . Are you aware of that? And I have lived longer than you. Six decades, thank God, I have endured.
PLATONOV. Pleased to hear it, but . . . what’s the point of all this?
PETROV. Live as long as I have, dear heart, and you’ll find out! Living a life is no joke! Life takes a bite out of you . . .
PLATONOV (shrugs). Honestly, I don’t know what you’re getting at, Gerasim Kuzmich . . . I don’t understand you . . . You started talking about yourself, and made a transition from yourself to life . . . What do you and life have in common?
PETRIN. When life breaks you down, shakes you up, when you start to be wary of young people . . . Life, my good sir . . . What is life? Here’s what it is, sir! When a man is born, he walks down one of three roads in life, for there are no other paths: you go to the right—wolves will devour you, you go to the left—you will devour the wolves, you go straight ahead—you will devour yourself.
PLATONOV. Do tell . . . Hm . . . You came to this conclusion by a scientific method, by experience?
PETRIN. By experience.
PLATONOV. By experience . . . (Laughs.) With due respect, Gerasim Kuz-mich, tell it to the judge, not to me . . . On the whole I’d advise you not to talk to me about higher matters . . . It makes me laugh and, honest to God, I don’t believe it. I don’t believe in your senile, home-spun wisdom! I don’t believe, friends of my father, I deeply, ever so sincerely don’t believe in your simple-minded speeches about profound topics, or in anything your minds can come up with.
PETRIN. Indeed, sir . . . Really . . . You can make anything out of a young tree: a cottage and a ship and anything you like . . . but one that’s old, stout and tall is good for damn all . . .
PLATONOV. I’m not talking about old men in general; I’m talking about my father’s friends.
GLAGOLYEV SR. I was also a friend of your father, Mikhail Vasilich!
PLATONOV. He had no end of friends . . . Once upon a time, the whole yard would be packed with carriages and gigs.
GLAGOLYEV SR. No . . . So that means you don’t believe in me either? (Roars with laughter.)
PLATONOV. Hm . . . How can I put this? . . . Even in you, Porfiry Semy-onych, I believe very little.
GLAGOLYEV SR. Is that so? (Extends his hand.) Thank you, my dear boy, for your frankness! Your frankness makes you even more appealing.
PLATONOV. You’re a good sort . . . I even respect you profoundly, but . . . but . . .
GLAGOLYEV SR. Please, go on and say it!
PLATONOV. But . . . but one has to be only too gullible to believe in those characters from Fonvizin’s comedies, those mealy-mouthed do-gooders and sickly-sweet lovers who spend their lives rubbing elbows with total swine and riffraff,32 and those petty tyrants who are venerated because they do neither good nor evil. Don’t be angry, please!
ANNA PETROVNA. I don’t care for this sort of conversation, especially when it’s Platonov doing the talking . . . It always ends badly. Mikhail Vasilich, let me introduce you to our new acquaintance! (Indicates Vengerovich Jr.) Isak Abramovich Vengerovich, a university student . . .
PLATONOV. Ah . . . (Gets up and goes to Vengerovich Jr.) Pleased to meet you! Delighted. (Extends his hand.) I’d give a great deal nowadays to have the right to be called a student again . . .
Pause.
I’m holding out my hand . . . Take mine or give me yours . . .
VENGEROVICH JR. I won’t do either . . .
PLATONOV. What?
VENGEROVICH JR. I won’t give you my hand.
PLATONOV. A riddle . . . Why not, sir?
ANNA PETROVNA (aside). What the hell!
VENGEROVICH JR. Because I have my reasons . . . I despise such persons as you!
PLATONOV. Bully for you . . . (Looks him over.) I would tell you that makes me feel awfully good, except that it would tickle your vanity, which has to be safeguarded for what comes next . . .
Pause.
You look down on me like a giant gazing on a pygmy. Could it be you are in fact a giant?
VENGEROVICH JR. I’m an honest man and not a vulgarian.
PLATONOV. For which I congratulate you . . . It would be pretty strange for a young student to be a dishonest man . . . None of us is questioning your honesty . . . Won’t you give me your hand, young man?