PLATONOV. I don’t know . . . That creature’s made out of cast iron . . . Give me your hand! (Gets up.) Don’t be afraid, my dearest . . . I’m still in one piece. He only roughed me up a little . . .
SASHA. What a nasty man he is! Didn’t I tell you not to go near him!
PLATONOV. Where’s the sofa? What are you looking at? Your faithless one is still alive! Don’t you see that? (Lies on the sofa.) Thanks for coming, otherwise you’d be a widow, and I’d be deceased!
SASHA. Lie on a cushion! (Puts a cushion under his head.) That’s right! (Sits at his feet.) Does it hurt anywhere?
Pause.
Why have you closed your eyes?
PLATONOV. No, no . . . I just . . . So you’ve come back, Sasha? You’ve come back, my treasure? (Kisses her hand.)
SASHA. Our Kolya’s taken sick!
PLATONOV. What’s wrong with him?
SASHA. A sort of cough, temperature, a rash . . . Two nights now he hasn’t slept and screams . . . Doesn’t drink, doesn’t eat . . . (Weeps.) He’s come down with something, Misha! I’m afraid for him! . . . I’m so afraid! And I had a bad dream . . .
PLATONOV. Why doesn’t your darling brother take a look? After all, he’s a doctor!
SASHA. Him? Is there any sympathy in him? Four days ago he dropped by for a minute, turned on his heel, and left. I’ve told him about Kolya’s illness, but he pinches his cheeks and yawns . . . Called me a fool . . .
PLATONOV. There’s another nincompoop! He’ll yawn himself silly one of these days! And he’ll walk out on himself, when he falls ill!
SASHA. What’s to be done?
PLATONOV. Hope against hope . . . You living with your father now?
SASHA. Yes.
PLATONOV. What’s he do?
SASHA. Nothing. Walks up and down his room, smokes his pipe, and makes plans to come over and see you. I showed up at his house all upset, so he figured out that I . . . that you and I . . . What’s to be done about Kolya?
PLATONOV. Don’t worry, Sasha!
SASHA. How can I not worry? If he dies, God forbid, what will become of us then?
PLATONOV. Yes . . . Pray God He doesn’t take our little boy from us! Why punish you? For marrying a good-for-nothing?
Pause.
Sasha, take care of my little midget! Take care of him for me, and I swear to you by all that’s holy that I’ll make a man of him! His every move will be your delight! After all, he’s a Platonov too, poor thing! Only he ought to change his name . . . As a man I’m petty, insignificant, but as a father I shall be great! Don’t fear for his prospects! Ugh, my arm! (Groans.) My arm hurts . . . That cutthroat pummeled it hard . . . What’s wrong with it? (Examines his arm.) It’s red . . . Well, the hell with it! That’s how it is, Sasha . . . . Your son will make you happy! You’re laughing . . . Laugh, my precious! But now you’re crying? What’s there to cry about? Hm . . . Don’t cry, Sasha! (Embraces her head.) She’s come back . . . But why did you leave me? Don’t cry, little squirrel! Why these tears? After all, I love you, little girl! . . . I love you so much! Great is my guilt, but what can you do? You’ve got to forgive me . . . There, there . . .
SASHA. Is your affair over?
PLATONOV. Affair? What kind of word is that, you little philistine?
SASHA. Isn’t it over?
PLATONOV. How can I put it? It’s not exactly an affair, but a sort of hideous hodgepodge . . . Don’t let this hodgepodge get to you! If it isn’t over, it soon . . . will be!
SASHA. But when?
PLATONOV. We can only imagine that it’ll be soon! Soon we’ll start living again, Sasha, in the old way! The hell with all the new stuff! I’m all worn out, used up . . . Don’t put any more stock in the durability of this liaison than I do myself! It won’t last . . . She will be the first to cool off and the first to react to this liaison with laughter and remorse. Sofya’s no partner for me. The things that get her excited are things that were stale for me long ago; with tears of tenderness she looks at things I can’t look at without laughing . . . She’s no fit partner for me . . .
Pause.
Believe me! Sofya won’t be your rival much longer . . . Sasha, what’s come over you?
SASHA gets up and staggers.
(Rises.) Sasha!
SASHA. You . . . you’re with Sofya, and not with the General’s lady?
PLATONOV. First time you’ve heard this?
SASHA. Sofya? . . . Vile . . . sordid . . .
PLATONOV. What’s wrong with you? You’re pale, staggering . . . (Groans.) Don’t torture me at least, Sasha! My arm hurts, while you keep on . . . Is this really . . . news to you? You’re hearing it for the first time? Then why did you go away that night? Wasn’t it on account of Sofya?
SASHA. The General’s lady is to be expected, but another man’s wife? Sordid, sinful . . . I didn’t expect this sort of dirty doings from you! God will punish you, you shameless man! (Goes to the door.)
PLATONOV (after a pause). You’re outraged? But where are you off to?
SASHA (stops in the doorway). May God grant happiness . . .
PLATONOV. To whom?
SASHA. To you, sir, and Sofya Yegorovna.
PLATONOV. She’s been reading idiotic novels. Sasha! I’m not “sir” to you: we’ve got a little boy, and I . . . after all, I am your husband! And in the second place, I don’t need happiness! . . . Stop, Sasha! Now you’re going away . . . And, I suppose, forever?
SASHA. I can’t take this! Ugh, my God, my God . . .
PLATONOV. You can’t take it?
SASHA. My God . . . And is it really true? (Puts her hands to her temples and squats down.) I . . . I don’t know what to do . . .
PLATONOV. You can’t take it? (Walks over to her.) It’s up to you . . . . Although I wish you’d stay! What’s the bawling for, you little silly?
Pause.
Eh, Sasha, Sasha . . . Great is my guilt, but is there really no way to forgive me?
SASHA. Have you forgiven yourself?
PLATONOV. A philosophical question! (Kisses her on the head.) I wish you’d stay . . . I’m really sorry! Really when you’re away there’s vodka, filth, Osips . . . I’m sick to death of it! Stay as a sick-nurse, not a wife! You’re a funny bunch, you women! You’re funny, Sasha! If you can feed that villain Osip, if you never stop fussing over dogs and cats, if you stay up half the night reading the doxology for your so-called enemies, what difference does it make if you toss a crust to your misbehaving but apologetic husband? Why you do act like an executioner? Stay, Sasha! (Embraces her.) I can’t be without a nanny! I’m a villain, I seduced another man’s wife, I’m Sofya’s lover, maybe even the lover of the General’s lady, I’m a polygamist, a major felon when it comes to family . . . Be outraged, be indignant! But who will love you the way I love you? Who will appreciate such a dear little country girl the way I appreciate her? Who will you cook a meal for, whose soup will you oversalt? You’d be doing the right thing if you left me . . . Justice demands it, but . . . (lifts her up) who will pick you up like this? Can you exist, my precious, apart from me?