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PLATONOV. I want only one thing: don’t ask questions and don’t stare me in the face!

ANNA PETROVNA. Which bottle has wine in it?

PLATONOV. All of ‘em.

ANNA PETROVNA. All five? Ah you drunkard, you drunkard! There’s a whole bar-room in this cupboard of yours! Aleksandra Ivanovna had better get back here fast . . . You’ll explain it to her somehow . . . I’m not a very formidable rival . . . I can make a deal . . . It’s not my intention to split you up . . . (Drinks from a bottle.) This wine’s tasty . . . Come on, let’s have a little drink! Shall we? Let’s have one drink and then give up drinking forever!

PLATONOV goes to the cupboard.

Hold the glass! (Pours wine.) Bottoms up! I won’t pour you any more.

PLATONOV drinks.

And now I’ll drink too . . . (Pours.) To the health of bad men! (Drinks.) You’re a bad man! It’s good wine! You’ve got taste . . . (Hands him the bottle.) Take it! Bring it over here! (Goes to the window.) Kiss your tasty wine good-bye! (Looks out the window.) It’s a pity to pour it out . . . Let’s have another drink, eh? Shall we?

PLATONOV. As you like . . .

ANNA PETROVNA (pours). Drink up . . . Quick!

PLATONOV (drinks). Your health! God give you joy!

ANNA PETROVNA (pours and drinks). Did you miss me? Let’s sit down . . . Put down the bottle for now . . .

They sit down.

Miss me?

PLATONOV. Every moment.

ANNA PETROVNA. How come you didn’t show up?

PLATONOV. Don’t ask questions! I won’t tell you anything not because I’m keeping secrets from you, but because I’m taking pity on your ears! I’m a lost soul, an utterly lost soul, my dear! Pangs of conscience, anguish, depression . . . agony, in short! You’ve come, and I feel easier.

ANNA PETROVNA. You’ve lost weight, lost your looks . . . I can’t stand these romantic heroes! What are you making yourself out to be, Platonov? Playing the hero of some novel? Depression, anguish, conflicting passions, love with prefaces . . . Phoo! Behave like a human being! Live, you silly man, the way real people live! What, are you such an archangel that you can’t live, breathe, or sit like a mere mortal?

PLATONOV. That’s easy for you to say . . . What am I supposed to do?

ANNA PETROVNA. A person is alive, I mean a man is alive and doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do! Most peculiar! What is he to do? If you like, I’ll answer your question as best I can, even though it doesn’t deserve an answer, being a pointless question!

PLATONOV. You won’t have an answer . . .

ANNA PETROVNA. In the first place, live like a human being, I mean, don’t drink, don’t lie around, wash more often, and come to my house, and in the second place, be content with what you’ve got . . . You’re acting like a fool, my good sir! As if this pretense of teaching weren’t enough? (Gets up.) Come to my house right now!

PLATONOV. How’s that? (Gets up.) Come to your place? No, no . . .

ANNA PETROVNA. Let’s go! You’ll see people, talk a little, listen a little, quarrel a little . . .

PLATONOV. No, no . . . And don’t make it an order!

ANNA PETROVNA. Why not?

PLATONOV. I cannot, and that’s all!

ANNA PETROVNA. You can! Put on your hat! Let’s go!

PLATONOV. I cannot, Anna Petrovna! Not for anything! I won’t set foot outside the house!

ANNA PETROVNA. You can! (Puts his hat on him.) You’re being silly, Platonov, old pal, you’re being silly! (Takes him by the arm.) Well? One, two! . . . Go on, Platonov! Forward, march!

Pause.

How about it, Michel! Come on!

PLATONOV. I can’t!

ANNA PETROVNA. You’re as stubborn as a young bull! Start marching! Well? One, two . . . Michel, darling, dearest, sweetie . . .

PLATONOV (tears himself away). I won’t go, Anna Petrovna!

ANNA PETROVNA. Let’s take a walk around the schoolhouse!

PLATONOV. Why keep pestering me? Haven’t I told you that I won’t go! I want to stay at home, so let me do what I want!

Pause.

I won’t go!

ANNA PETROVNA. Hm . . . How about this, Platonov . . . I’ll lend you some money, and you can leave here for someplace else for a month or two . . .

PLATONOV. Where?

ANNA PETROVNA. Moscow, Petersburg . . . Will you go? Take a trip, Michel! It’s imperative that you make a change! Travel around, look at people, go to the theater, get refreshed, make a change . . . I’ll give you money, letters . . . Would you like me to go with you? Would you? Let’s take a trip, let’s have fun . . . We’ll come back here renewed and resplendent . . .

PLATONOV. It’s a wonderful idea, but, unfortunately, it won’t work . . . I am leaving here tomorrow, Anna Petrovna, but not with you!

ANNA PETROVNA. As you like . . . Where are you going?

PLATONOV. I’m just going . . .

Pause.

I am leaving here forever . . .

ANNA PETROVNA. Hogwash . . . (Drinks from the bottle.) Nonsense!

PLATONOV. It’s not hogwash, my dear! I’m going! Forever!

ANNA PETROVNA. But what for, you peculiar man?

PLATONOV. Don’t ask questions! Honest to God, forever! I’m leaving and . . . Good-bye, that’s what! Don’t ask! You won’t pry anything out of me now . . .

ANNA PETROVNA. Nonsense!

PLATONOV. Today is the last time we’ll see one another . . . I’m cutting out forever . . . (Takes her by the hands and then by the shoulders.) Forget the idiot, the jackass, the bastard and the scoundrel Platonov! He will vanish into thin air, fade into the background . . . We shall meet again, perhaps, dozens of years from now, when we will both be in a position to chuckle and shed senile tears over these days but now . . . the hell with them! (Kisses her hand.)

ANNA PETROVNA. Drink up! (Pours him wine.) There’s nothing wrong in a drunkard spouting nonsense . . .

PLATONOV (drinks it up). I won’t get drunk . . . I will remember, mother o’ mine, my good fairy! . . . I shall never forget! Laugh, you cultured, clear-minded woman! Tomorrow I’ll run away from here, I’ll run from myself, I don’t know where, I’ll run to a new life! I know only too well what this new life will be like!

ANNA PETROVNA. That’s all very pretty, but what has come over you?

PLATONOV. What? I . . . Later you’ll find out all about it! My friend, when you are horrified by my behavior, don’t curse me! Remember that I’m all but punished already . . . Parting with you forever is worse than punishment . . . What are you smiling at? Believe me! Word of honor, believe me! My heart is so bitter, so putrid and vile, that I’d be glad to smother myself!