The Bear by Anton Chekhov, First Published 1888

The Bear, A one-act farce

- Act I

Mrs Popova dressed in deep mourning and gazing at a photograph and Luka


  LUKA.  It's not right, Ma'am.  You'll do yourself no end of harm.  Cook and
chambermaid are out berry-picking, every living creature's enjoying itself,
even the cat's having a good time, prancing about in the year and chasing the
dicky birds, but you just keep yourself caged up indoors all day as if you were
in a nunnery.  It's almost a year since you last went out of the house!

  POPOVA.  I shall never go out again.  Why should I?  My life is over.  He is
in his grave and I have buried myself within these four walls.  We are both
dead.

  LUKA.  There you go again!  That's a fine way to talk!  The master's no more,
God rest his soul.  The good Lord had seen fit to take him away.  But you can't
go on weeping and wearing black forever.  My old missus passed away as well,
you know.  So what did I do?  Mourned her for a month or two, then called it a
day.  The old girl wasn't worth any more morning and groaning than that
(sighs).  You never see anything of the neighbours.  Don't go to visit them and
won't have them here.  Pardon me, Ma'am, but we like like spiders--never see
the light of day.  The mice have even nibbled holes in my uniform.  It's not as
if there weren't any nice folk around.  The place is full of them.  There's a
regiment stationed at Ryblovo--strapping young officers, a real sight for sore
eyes.  Dances every Friday night at the barracks and a brass band playing every
day.... Fait breaks my heart, Ma'am!  There you are--a fine, handsom young
woman, all peaches and cream,--could be having the time of your life.  Beauty
don't last forever, you know.  Ten years from now you'll be wanting to catch
the officer's eyes and twist the men round your little finger, but it'll be too
late.

  POPOVA (firmly).  Kindly never say such things to me again, Luka.  You know
perfectly well that life lost all meaning for me when the master died.  You
think I am still alive, but you're wrong.  I have sworn never to discard this
mourning and never again to see the light of day.  Do you hear?  May his spirit
see how I love him.  Yes, I know it's no secret to you that he was often unfair
to me, cruel, even ... unfaithful.  But I shall be faithful to him to the
grave.  I'll show him how strongly I can love.  Over there, on the other side,
he will see me as I was before his death....

  LUKA.  Instead of talking like that you'd do better to go for a nice walk in
the garden or get Toby or Giant harnessed and drive round to the neighbours....

  POPOVA.  Oh, dear! (Starts crying.)

  LUKA.  Oh, don't do that, Ma'am!  There, there.  God bless you.

  POPOVA.  He was so fond of Toby.  He always took him when he visited the
Korchagins or the Vlassovs.  How wonderfully he used to drive.  What a fine
figure he made when he drew in the reins with a flourish.  Do you remember?
Tell them to give Toby an extra bag of oats today.

  LUKA.  Yes, Ma'am.

                    A loud ring at the door

  POPOVA (starting up).  Who can that be?  Tell them I'm not reveiving anyone.

  LUKA.  Very well, Ma'am.  (Exit.)


- Act II

                    Mrs Popova alone


  POPOVA (looking at the photograph).  You'll see how well I can love and
forgive, mon cher Nicolas.  My love shall not die until I do, until this poor
heart stops beating.  (Laughing through her tears.)  Aren't you ashamed of
yourself?  Here am I, such a good girl, such a faithful little wife, who's
locked herself up, and will be true to you to the grave.  But you ... aren't
you ashamed of yourself, tubby-kinds?  Deceiving me, making scenes, leaving ma
all alone of weeks on end....


- Act III

                    Mrs Popova and Luka


  LUKA (enters, worried).  It's someone askign for you, Madam.  Wants to
see....

  POPOVA.  Didn't you say that I haven't seen anyone since my husband died?

  LUKA.  Yes, but he wouldn't listen.  Says it's very important.

  POPOVA.  I won't see an-y-bo-dy!

  LUKA.  I told him, but ... he's a proper devil ... swore and pushed past me
into the dining room ... that's where he is now....

  POPOVA (annoyed).  Alright, show him in.  How rude people are!

                    Exit Luka

  POPOVA.  How difficult they are!  What do they want from me?  Why won't they
leave me alone?  (Sighs.)  I see I really shal have to get me to a nunnery.
(Thinks.) Yes, a nunnery....


- Act IV

                    Mrs Popova, Luka and Grigory Smirnov

  SMIRNOV (enters and addresses Luka).  Blockhead!  Just mind what you're
saying!  Silly ass!  (Sees Popova and assmes a dignified manner.)  Allow me to
introduce myself, Madam.  Grigory Smirnov, retired artillery lieutenant.  I am
compelled to trouble you on an extremely important matter.

  POPOVA (not offering her hand).  What do you want?

  SMIRNOV.  Your late husband, with whom I had the honour of being acquainted,
owed me twelve hundred roubles on two billes of exchange.  As I have to pay
interest to the Land Bank tomorrow, I should be grateful if you could return
the money today.

  POPOVA.  Twelve hundred!  What did my husband owe you for?

  SMIRNOV.  He used to buy oats from me.

  POPOVA (sighing).  Don't forget to tell them to give Tody that extra bag of
oats today, Luka.  (Luka goes out.)  If my husband owed you money I shall pay
it, of course, but I must ask you to excuse me, because I have no ready money
today.  My bailiff is due back from town the day after tomorrow and I shall ask
him to pay you whatever is owing, but for the time being I cannot comply with
your request.  Moreover, it is exactly seven months today since my dear husband
died, adn in my present state of mind I do not feel at all disposed to deal
with money matters.

  SMIRNOV.  And in my present state of mind if I don't pay the interest
tomorrow I'll be ruined, thrown out by the scruff of my neck.  They'll
confiscate my estate.

  POPOVA.  You'll get the money the day after tomorrow.

  SMIRNOV.  I need it today.

  POPOVA.  I'm sorry, but I cannot pay you today.

  SMIRNOV.  And I'm sorry, but I can't wait until the day after tomarrow.

  POPOVA.  What can I do if I haven't the money now?

  SMIRNOV.  So you can't pay me?

  POPOVA.  No, I can't.

  SMIRNOV.  Hm.... Is that your last word?

  POPOVA.  Yes, it is.

  SMIRNOV.  Positively your last word?

  POPOVA.  Positively my last word.

  SMIRNOV.  Most obliged to you.  We'll make a note of that!  (Shrugs his
shoulders.)  And they wonder why I'm not cool and collected.  I meet the excise
officer just now, on the way here, and he asks me why I'm always in such a bad
temper.  Heaven help me, how can I help being so bad-tempered?  I'm desperately
in need of money.  I leave home yesterday morning at the crack of dawn, do the
rounds of all my creditors, and not a single on of them coughs up!  I get
dog-tired and spend the night sleeping by a vodka barrel in some flea-bitten
hole of a place.  Then finally I arrive here, forty miles from home, hoping to
get my money, and I'm treated to a ``state of mind''!  How can I help being so
bad-tempered?

  POPOVA.  I thought I had made myself quite clear.  You will get your money
when my bailiff returns from town.

  SMIRNOV.  I came to see you, not your bailiff!  What the devil, pardon my
language, do I want with your bailiff?

  POPOVA.  Forgive me, sir, but I'm not used to such language or to such a
tone.  I can listen to you no longer.  (Exit quickly.)


- Act V

                    Smirnov alone

  SMIRNOV.  I like that!  ``State of mind''!  Her husband died seven months ago
today!  Have I got to pay that interest or haven't I?  I ask you: have I, or
haven't I?  Alright, so your husband's died and you're in a state and all that,
and your bailiff's gone off somewhere, damn his eyes, but what am I supposed to
do?  Fly away from my creditors on a magic carpet?  Or bang my head against a
brick wall?  I go to see Gruzdev and he's not at home.  Yaroshevich has gone
into hiding.  I have the devil of a row with Kuritsin and nearly throw him out
of the window.  Mazutov has got a stomach upset and this one's ``in a state''.
Not one of the bastards will pay up.  And all becaue I'm too soft with them,
like a sloppy old woman.  I'm too considerate.  Well, just you wait!  I'll show
you!  I won't let you play around with me, damn you!  Here I am and here I
stay, until he pays me.  Phew!  What a temper I'm in today.  I'm shaking with
rage, choking with it.  It's made me feel quite ill!  (Calls out.)  Hey, there!


- Act VI

                    Smirnov and Luka

  LUKA (enters).  What do you want?

  SMIRNOV.  Bring me some kvass or water.

                    Exit Luka

  SMIRNOV.  The logic of it!  A man needs money so desperately he'd almost hang
himself, and she won't pay because she doesn't feel like dealing with money
matters, if you please.  Typical female logic!  Never did like talking to women
and never will.  Rather sit on a keg of gunpowder than talk to a woman.  Brrr!
That bunch of petticoats has got me in such a rage, I'm shaking all over.  Only
have to catch sight of one of those poetic creatures and it makes me so angry
that I get all wobbly at the ankles.  Its enough to make you shout of help.


- Act VII

                    Smirnov and Luka

  LUKA (enters and serves him with the water.)  Madam is indisposed and is not
seeing anyone.

  SMIRNOV.  Get out, blast you!

                    Exit Luka

  SMIRNOV.  Indisposed and not seeing anyone!  Alright don't see me!  I'll just
stay here until you pay me the money.  If you're indisposed for a week, I'll
stay for a week.  If it's a year, I'll stay a year.  I'll show you, old girl.
You won't get round me with your black dress and your dimples.  WE know all
about those dimples!  (Shouts through the window.)  Unharness the horses,
Semyon!  We won't be leaving for a while.  I'm staying here.  Tell them in the
stables to give the horses some oats.  You stupid lout, that one's got caught
up in the reins again.  (Mimics him.)  ``Doesn't matter!'' I'll give you
``doesn't matter''!  (Goes away from the window.)  It's sickening.... This
unbearable heat, no one paying up, a sleepless night, and now this bunch of
petticoats in mourning with her ``states''.  I've got a headache.  Perhaps I
need a drop of vodka?  Why not?  (Calls out.)  Hey, there!

  LUKA (enters).  What do you want?

  SMIRNOV.  Bring me a glass of vodka.

                    Exit Luka

  SMIRNOV.  Ugh.  (Sits down and inspects himself.)  A pretty sight, I must
say.  Covered with dust, filthy boots, unwashed, hair in an awful mess, and
bits of straw all over my waistcoat.  The little lady must have taken me for a
real brigand.  (Yawns.)  Not very comme il faut to turn up in someone's drawing
room looking like this.  Still never mind ... I'm a creditor here, not a guest.
There's no special etiquette for creditors.

  LUKA (enters and serves him with vodka).  You're taking a bit of a liberty,
sir.

  SMIRNOV (angrily).  What's that?

  LUKA.  Er ... nothing, sir ... I just....

  SMIRNOV.  Who do you think you're talking to!  Shut up!

  LUKA (aside).  We're got landed with a nasty piece of work here.  Straight
from the devil himself.

                    Exit Luka

  SMIRNOV.  Oh, what a rage I'm in.  I could smash the whole world to
smithereens.  I feel quite ill ... (Shouts out.)  Hey there!


- Act VIII

                    Mrs Popova and Smirnov

  POPOVA (enters with eyes downscast.)  Sir, in my solitude I have grown
unaccustomed to people's voices and cannot endure shouting.  I beg you most
earnestly not to disturb me.

  SMIRNOV.  Pay me the money and I'll go.

  POPOVA.  I've told you in plain language: I haven't got any ready money at
the moment.  Wait until the day after tomorrow.

  SMIRNOV.  I also had the honour of telling you in plain language: I need the
money today, not the day after tomorrow.  If you don't pay me today, I shall
have to hang myself tomorrow.

  POPOVA.  But what can I do, if I haven't the money?  How strange you are!

  SMIRNOV.  So you won't pay me now, eh?

  POPOVA.  I can't.

  SMIRNOV.  In that case I'll stay here until you can.  (Sits down.)  You'll
pay me the day after tomorrow, eh?  That's fine.  Then I'll stay here like this
until the day after tomorrow.  Just sitting here like this ... (Jumps up.) I
ask you: do I have to pay the interst tomorrow, or don't I?  Perhaps you think
I'm joking?

  POPOVA.  I beg you not to shout, sir.  This isn't a stable.

  SMIRNOV.  I'm not asking you about a stable, I'm asking you whether I have to
pay the interest tomorrow, or not?

  POPOVA.  You don't know how to behave in the company of a lady.

  SMIRNOV.  Oh, yes, I do know how to behave in the company of a lady.

  POPOVA.  No, you don't.  You're coarse and bad-mannered.  Respectable people
don't talk to a lady like that.

  SMIRNOV.  Well, this is a surprise!  How would you like me to talk to you
then?  In French?  (Angrily and affectedly.)  Madame, je vous prie ... how
delighted I am that you won't pay me back my money.... Oh, pardon me for
bothering you.  What exquistie weather it is today.  And how the black dress
becomes you.  (Bows extravagantly.)

  POPOVA.  Silly and bad-mannered.

  SMIRNOV (mimicking her.)  Silly and bad-mannered!  I don't know how to behave
in the company of a lady!  Madam, I've see more women in my time than you have
sparrows.  I've fought three duels over them, jilted twelve of them and been
jilted by nine.  Yes, my dear lady.  Tome was when I used to prance round them
like a fool, idolise them, pamper them, flatter them, bow and scrape to them.
I suffered, sighed, melted, simmered, boiled.  I loved passionately, wildly, in
all manner of ways, damn it!  I chattered away like a magpie about female
emancipations and wasted half my fortune on the objects of my affection.  But
now, not for all the world!  You won't fool me now.  I have had enough!
Passionate dark eyes, ruby lips, dimple cheeks, moonlight, soft whispers,
gentle sighs--I wouldn't give you tuppence for the whole lot, Madam.  Present
company excepted, of course, but all women, young or old alike, are affected,
spiteful, vain, petty, heartless, infuriatingly illogical, gossip-mongers and
born liars.  And as for this (tapping his forehead)--Excuse my being so
frank--any sparrow is a genius compared with a philosopher in petticoats.  The
sight of one of these poetic beings--a demi-goddess, muslin-clas and
ethereal--sends you into a thousand raptures, yet gaze into her soul and what
do you find--a regular hyena.  (Grabs hold of the back of the chair which
splits and breaks.)  But the most exasperating thing is that of some reason
this hyena imagones tha loving is its special talent, privilege and monopoly!
Damn it all, you can hang me upside down on that nail over there if a woman is
capable of feeling the slightest affection for anything but a lapdog.  All she
does when she's in love is snivel and complain!  While the man suffers and
sacrifices, her love consists of rustling her skirts and trying to twist him
round her little finger.  You have the misfortune of being a woman, so you must
know all about the female character from your own.  Tell me quite honestly:
have you ever met a woman who was sincere, faithful and constant?  You haven't.
Only old or ugly ones are faithful and constant.  You're more likely to find a
cat with horns than a constant woman!

  POPOVA.  Begging your pardon, but exactly who then, is your opinion, is
faithful and constant is love?  The man?

  SMIRNOV.  Yes, the man.

  POPOVA.  The man!  (Laughts bitterly.)  The man is faithful and constant in
love!  Well, that is news!  (Heatedly.)  What right have you to say that?  Men
are faithful and constant!  Since we're about it, I would like you to know that
of all the man I have ever known my late husband was the best.  I loved him
dearly, with all my soul, as only a young, and intelligent woman can loce.  I
gave him my youth, my happiness, my life and my fortune.  He was my be all and
end all.  I worshipped him like an idol and ... and ... then what?  This best
of all men deceived me at teh drop of a hat in the most shameless way.  After
his death I found a whole drawer full of love letters in his desk, and when he
was alive--I shudder to think of it--he used to leave me all alone for weeks on
end, flirt with other women and deceive me before my very eyes.  He frittered
away my money and mocked my feeling.  Yet in spite of all this I loved him and
remained true to him.  What is more, I am still faithful and constant to him
even though he is dead.  I have buried myself forever within these four walls
and shall never discard this mourning to my dying day....

  SMIRNOV (laughing scornfully).  Mourning!  What do you take me for?  As if I
didn't know why you are wearing that back hooded cloak and have buried yourself
within these four walls!  It's all so mysterious, so poetic.  Some young army
officer or idiot of a poet will drive past the house, look up at the window and
think: ``Ah, there lives he mysterious Tamara who has buried herself within
those four walls for love of her dead husband.''  We know all those little
tricks.

  POPOVA (flaring up).  How dare you say such things to me!

  SMIRNOV.  You've buried yourself alive but you didn't forget to powder your
nose.

  POPOVA.  How dare you talk to me like that!

  SMIRNOV.  Don't shout please.  I'm not your bailiff.  And kindly allow me to
speak plainly.  I'm not a woman and I'm used to speaking my mind!  Kindly don't
shout.

  POPOVA.  You're the one who's shouting, not me.  Kindly leave me alone!

  SMIRNOV.  Pay me the money and I'll go.

  POPOVA.  I won't pay you.

  SMIRNOV.  Oh yes, you will.

  POPOVA.  Just to spite you, I won't give you a farthing!  Go away and leave
me alone.

  SMIRNOV.  I haven't the pleasure of being either your husband or fiancee, so
please don't make a scene.  (Sits down.)  I don't like it.

  POPOVA (fuming with rage).  You dare to sit down?

  SMIRNOV.  Yes.

  POPOVA.  Kindly leave immediately.

  SMIRNOV.  Kindly give me my money.... (Aside.)  Oh, what a rage I'm in!

  POPOVA.  I do not propose to talk to impudent rascals!  Kindly get out!
(Pause.) So you're not going?

  SMIRNOV.  No.

  POPOVA.  Not going?

  SMIRNOV.  No!

  POPOVA.  Very well then.  (Rings.)


- Act IX

                    The others and Luka

  POPOVA.  See this gentleman out, Luka.

  LUKA.  Please leave when you're told to, sir.  It's not right....

  SMIRNOV (leaping up.)  Shut up!  Who do you thing you're talking to?  I'll
make mincemeat out of you!

  LUKA (clutching his chest).  Oh, my godfathers!  (Collapses into an
armchair.)  I've come over all funny.  Can't get my breath.

  POPOVA.  Where's Dasha?  (Shouts.) Dasha!  Marfa!  Dasha!  (Rings.)

  LUKA.  They're all out berry-picking.  Ooh.  I'm ill!  Water!

  POPOVA.  Will you please get out of here!

  SMIRNOV.  Will you please be a little more polite.

  POPOVA (clenching her fists and stamping.)  You lout!  You great bear!  You
bully!  You monster!

  SMIRNOV.  What's that?  What did you say?

  POPOVA.  I said you were a bear, a monster!

  SMIRNOV (advancing towards her.)  And what gives you the right to insult me,
pray?

  POPOVA.  What if I am insulting you?  Do you think I'm afraid of you?

  SMIRNOV.  And do you thing you have the right to insut someone and get away
with it just because you belong to the fair sex?  Eh?  I challenge you to a
duel!

  LUKA.  Oh, my godfathers!  Water!

  SMIRNOV.  Pistols!

  POPOVA.  And do you think I'm afraid of you just because you have big fists
and bellow like an ox?  You bully!

  SMIRNOV.  A duel!  I won't be insulted by anyone, even if it is a member of
the weaker sex.

  POPOVA (trying to shout him down.)  You great bear!  Bear!  Bear!

  SMIRNOV.  It's high time we got rid of the idea that only men have to answer
for their insults.  Equal rights means equal rights, damn it!  I challenge you!

  POPOVA.  So you want a duel, do you?  Delighted to oblige.

  SMIRNOV.  This very minute.

  POPOVA.  This very minute it shall be.  My husband had some pistols.  I'll go
and fetch them.  (Hurries out, then returns.)  How I shall enjoy sending a
bullet into that think skull of yours!  Damn you!  (Exit.)

  SMIRNOV.  I'll shoot her like a sitting duck.  I'm no young lad, no
sentimental pup!  The weaker sex doesn't exist as far as I'm concerned.

  LUKA.  Dear, kind sir!  (Getting down on his knees.)  Take pity on an old
man, I beseech you.  Go away from here.  You've frightened me to death, and now
you're going to have a duel.

  SMIRNOV (ignoring him).  A duel.  There's equal rights for you, there's
emancipaton for you.  Both sexes quite equal.  I'll shoot her as a matter of
principle.  But what a woman!  (Mimics her.)  ``Damn you ... I'll send a bullet
into that thick skull of yours.'' What a woman!  Her face flushed, her eyes
sparkled and she accepted the challenge!  I've never seen another like her in
all my life....

  LUKA.  Go away, kind sir.  And I'll pray for you for the rest of my days.

  SMIRNOV.  There's a woman for you!  I should say so!  A real woman!  No
mopong and moaning--all fire, gunpowder and sparks.  It seems a pity to knock
her off.

  LUKA(weeping).  Dear, kind sir ... please go away.

  SMIRNOV.  I like her.  I really do.  I spite of the dimples.  Wouldn't even
mind forgetting about the debt.  And my bad temper's gone.  A marvellous woman!


- Act X

                    The others and Mrs Popova

  POPOVA(enters with pistols).  Here are the pistols.  Before we start perhaps
you would oblige by showing me how to use them.  I've never held a pistol in my
life....

  LUKA.  Merciful Heavens.  I'll go and fetch the gardener and the coachman.
What's brought this disaster upon us?  (Exit.)

  SMIRNOV (inspects the pistols).  Well, there are several types of pistols,
you see.  There's the Mortimer, that's a special duelling pistol with capsules.
Theses pistols of yours are Smith Wessons, triple action with ejector and
central fire.  Lovely things.  Worth at least ninety roubles the pair.  You
hold it like this.... (Aside.)  What eyes!  What eyes!  She's enough to set a
man on fire.

  POPOVA.  Like this?

  SMIRNOV.  That's right.  Then you cock the hammer ... and take aim like this.
Head back a little.  Stretch out your arm as far as you can ... that's it.
Then you press this with your finger--and that's all there is to it.  The main
thing is not to get flustered and not to hurry when you're taking aim.  Try to
keep your hand from shaking.

  POPOVA.  I see....  It's not very convenient shooting indoors.  Let's go into
the garden.

  SMIRNOV.  Very well.  But I warn you that I shall fire into the air.

  POPOVA.  That's the last straw!  Why?

  SMIRNOV.  Because ... because....  That's my business.

  POPOVA.  Lost your nerve, have you?  Eh?  Ha, ha!  No, sir.  Don't start
making excuses.  Kindly follow me!  I shan't rest until I've made a hole in
your forehead ... that forehead there, the one I hate so much!  So you've lost
your nerve, have you?

  SMIRNOV.  Yes.

  POPOVA.  You're lying.  Why don't you want to duel?

  SMIRNOV.  Because ... because ... I find you too attractive.

  POPOVA (laughing angrily).  He finds me too attractive!  He has the
presumption to say he finds me attractive.  (Points to the door.)  Good day,
sir.

  SMIRNOV (puts down the revolver in silence, picks up his cap and goes to the
door; he stops and they look at each other for about thirty seconds without
speaking; then he walks up to Popova hesitantly and says).  Listen ... Are you
still angry?  I'm in a devilish rage, too, but you see ... how can I put it?
The fact is, you see, strictly speaking this sort of business.... (Shouts.)
Can I help it if I find you attractive?  (Grabs the back of a chair which
splits and breaks.)  Damned fragile furniture you've got here!  I find you
attractive!  Do you understand?  I ... I'm almost in love with you!

  POPOVA.  Keep away from me.  I hate you!

  SMIRNOV.  By Jove, what a woman!  I've never see another like her in all my
life!  I'm finished!  Done for!  Caught like a mouse in a trap!

  POPOVA.  Keep your distance, or I'll shoot.

  SMIRNOV.  Shoot then!  You can't imagine what joy it would be to die under
the gaze of those wonderful eyes, to die from a revolver held in that tiny
velvet hand.  I've taken leave of my senses.  You must decide now, for if I
leave this house we shall never meet again!  Make you decision.  I come from a
good family, I'm an honest man, I have an income of ten thousand a year, I can
hit a coin in the air.  I've got some splendid hourses.  Will you be my wife?

  POPOVA (angrily brandishes her revolver).  A duel!  I challenge you!

  SMIRNOV.  I've gone mad!  I don't understand anything!  (Shouts.)  Hey,
there!  Bring some water!

  POPOVA (shouts).  I challenge you!

  SMIRNOV.  I've gone mad.  I'm head over heels in love like a young stripling,
like a fool!  (Seizes her hadn adn she squeals with pain.)  I love you! (Gets
down on his knees.)  I love you as I've never loved before.  I've jilted twelve
women and nine have jilted me, but I never loved any of them like I love you.
I've gone all sugary and syrupy and soft ... I'm on my bended knees like a
fool, proposing like a fool.  What a shocking disgrace!  Haven't been in love
for five years.  Promised I wouldn't.  And now I've gone and put my neck in the
noose!  I off you my hand.  Yes or no?  You don't have to, if you don't want
to.  (Gets up and walks quickly to the door.)

  POPOVA.  Stop....

  SMIRNOV (stops).  Well....

  POPOVA.  Nothing ... you can go....  But, stop....  No, you can go!  I hate
you!  Or do I?  Don't go!  Ah, if only you knew how angry I am!  (Throws the
revolver on to the table.)  This wretched thing has made my fingers go numb.
(Tears her kerchief with rage.)  What are you standing there for.  Get out!

  SMIRNOV.  Adieu.

  POPOVA.  Yes, yes, get out!  (Shouts.)  Where are you going?  Stop!  Oh well,
go!  Ah, how angry I am!  Keep your distance1  Keep your distance!

  SMIRNOV (goes up to her).  How furious I am with myself!  I've fallen in love
like a schoolboy.  Gone down on my bended knees.  It's enought to give your
goosepimples.  (Roughly.)  I love you!  Of all the stupid things to do!
Tomorrow I've got to pay the interest, haymaking has started, and now there's
you.... (Puts his arms round her waist.)  I'll never forgive myself.

  POPOVA.  Keep your distance!  Take your hand off me!  I ... hate you!  I
ch-challenge you!  (A long kiss.)


- Act XI

The same, Luke with an axe, the gardener with a pitchfork and some workmen with
                                poles.

  LUKA (seeing the kissing couple).  My godfathers!  (Pause.)

  POPOVA (with downcast eyes).  Luka, tell them not to give Toby any oats
today.


                               The End
