PLATONOV. How come you took that money from him?
TRILETSKY. Just did . . . (Sits down.)
PLATONOV. What do you mean: just did?
TRILETSKY. I took it, end of story! Are you sorry for him or something?
PLATONOV. That’s not the point, chum!
TRILETSKY. Then what is?
PLATONOV. You don’t know?
TRILETSKY. I don’t know.
PLATONOV. Liar, you do know!
Pause.
I could have been smitten with a great love for you, my darling, if for at least one week, at least one day you had lived according to some rules, even the flimsiest ones! For characters like you, rules are as necessary as daily bread . . .
Pause.
TRILETSKY. I don’t know about that . . . It’s not up to you and me, pal, to reinvent our flesh! It’s not up to us to repress it . . . I knew this when you and I were still in high school getting flunked in Latin . . . Let’s cut the pointless chatter . . . Or may the roof of our mouths cleave to our tongues!49
Pause.
The other day, pal o’ mine, I was visiting a certain lady I know, looking at the portraits of “Contemporary Movers and Shakers” and reading their biographies. And what do you think, dear fellow? Why, neither of us was among them, no! Couldn’t find us, no matter how hard I tried! Lasciate, Mikhail Vasilich, ogni speranza!50—as the Italians say. I could not find you or me among the contemporary movers and shakers and — imagine! I couldn’t care less! Now Sofya Yegorovna is not like that . . . she does care . . .
PLATONOV. What’s Sofya Yegorovna got to do with this?
TRILETSKY. She’s miffed not to be amongst the “Contemporary Movers and Shakers” . . . She imagines all she has to do is lift her little finger—the terrestrial globe will gasp in amazement, humanity will fling up its cap in delight . . . She imagines . . . Hm . . . Not one intellectual novel contains as much twaddle as she does . . . And actually she’s not worth a red cent. Ice! Stone! A statue! It makes me feel like walking up to her and scraping a chip of plaster off her nose . . . The least little thing . . . instant hysterics, raising her voice, deep sighs . . . Not an ounce of grit in her . . . A clever doll . . . She regards me with contempt, considers me a waste of time . . . Just what makes her Seryozhenka better than you or I? Tell me what? His only virtues are that he doesn’t drink vodka, thinks lofty thoughts and without a twinge of conscience describes himself as a man of the future. However, judge not lest ye be judged . . . (Gets up.) Let’s go get a drink!
PLATONOV. I’m not coming. I suffocate in there.
TRILETSKY. I’ll go on my own. (Stretches.) By the way, what does that monogram S. and V. mean? Is it Sofya Voinitseva or Sergey Voinitsev? Whom did our philologist intend to honor by those initials, himself or his spouse?
PLATONOV. It occurs to me that those initials signify: “Salve Vengerovich!”51 On his money merrily we roll along.
TRILETSKY. Right . . . What’s up with the general’s lady today? She bursts out laughing, groans, goes around kissing everybody . . . As if she were in love . . .
PLATONOV. Who is there for her to fall in love with? Herself? Don’t you believe in her laughter. It’s impossible to believe in the laughter of a clever woman who never weeps: she laughs out loud whenever she wants to cry. Though our general’s lady doesn’t want to cry, but to shoot herself . . . You can see it in her eyes . . .
TRILETSKY. Women don’t shoot themselves, they take poison . . . But let’s not talk philosophy . . . Whenever I talk philosophy, I make up a pack of lies . . . A wonderful female that general’s lady of ours! Ordinarily I think awfully dirty thoughts whenever I look at a woman, but she is the only woman off whom my unbridled fantasies bounce like pebbles off a wall. The only one . . . When I look into her no-nonsense face, I start to believe in Platonic love. You coming?
PLATONOV. No.
TRILETSKY. I’ll go by myself . . . I’ll have a drink with the parish priest . . . (Goes and in the doorway bumps into Glagolyev Jr.) Ah! His lordship, the do-it-yourself count! Here’s three rubles for you! (Shoves three rubles into his hand and exits.)
SCENE XII
PLATONOV and GLAGOLYEV JR.
GLAGOLYEV JR. Curious personality! Right out of the blue: here’s three rubles for you! (Shouts.) I can give you three rubles myself! Hm . . . What an idiot! (to Platonov.) I’m genuinely appalled by his stupidity. (Laughs.) Monstrously stupid!
PLATONOV. Why aren’t you dancing, dancing-boy?
GLAGOLYEV JR. Dancing? Here? With whom, might I ask? (Sits beside him.)
PLATONOV. So there’s no one here?
GLAGOLYEV JR. Nothing but stereotypes! They’re all stereotypes, wherever you look! Those snouts, acquiline noses, airs and graces . . . And the ladies? (Roars with laughter.) What the hell do you call them! At such gatherings I always prefer the refreshments to the dancing.
Pause.
Here in Russia, however, the air is so stale! So dank, suffocating . . . I can’t stand Russia! . . . Ignorance, stench . . . Brrr . . . What a difference . . . You ever been to Paris?
PLATONOV. Never.
GLAGOLYEV JR. Pity. Even so, you’ve still got time to visit it. When you do go there, let me know. I shall reveal all the secrets of Paris to you. I shall give you three hundred letters of introduction, and put three hundred of the chic-est French tarts at your disposal . . .
PLATONOV. Thank you, I’ve got a full plate. Tell me, is it true what they’re saying, that your father wants to buy Platonovka?
GLAGOLYEV JR. I don’t know if it’s true. I keep myself aloof from business matters . . . But have you noticed how mon père52 is courting your general’s lady? (Roars with laughter.) There’s yet another stereotype! The old goat wants to get married! As thick as a plank! Though your general’s lady is charmante! Not bad at all!
Pause.
She’s quite a darling, quite a darling . . . And her figure?! Naughty, naughty! (Claps Platonov on the shoulder.) Lucky devil! Does she lace herself up? Lace herself up really tight?
PLATONOV. I don’t know . . . I’m not present when she gets dressed . . .
GLAGOLYEV JR. But I was told . . . Then you’re not . . .
PLATONOV. You’re the idiot, Count!
GLAGOLYEV JR. But I was joking . . . Why get angry? What a crackpot you are, really! (Quietly.) Is it true what they say, that sometimes she loves money to the point of blacking out?
PLATONOV. You’ll have to ask her about that yourself. I don’t know.
GLAGOLYEV JR. Ask her myself? (Roars with laughter.) What an idea! Platonov! What are you saying?!
PLATONOV (sits on another bench). You really are an expert at boring people stiff!
GLAGOLYEV JR. (roars with laughter). But what if I did ask her myself? And yet, why not ask her?
PLATONOV. Stands to reason . . . (Aside.) Just ask her . . . She’ll box your stupid ears for you! (To him.) Ask her!