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THE BEAR

by 예술융합영어디렉터 2005. 10. 6.
THE BEAR

A onc-act farce (1888)

by Anton Chekhov

 

Dedicated to N. N. Solovrsov

 

 

CHARACTERS


ELENA POPOVA . a dimple-cheeked widow

GRIGORY SMIRNOV,  not-too-old country gentleman

LUKA, Popova's old manservant

 

     The drawing-room in Mrs Popova's country house


UNIT 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 yard and chasing the dicky birds. but you just keep yourself caged up 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 masters no more, God rest his soul. The good lord has 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 that what did I do? Mourned her for a month or two, then called it a day. The old girl! She wasn't worth any more moaning and groaning than that (sighs). You never see anything of the neighbors. Don't go to visit them and won't have them here. Pardon me Ma'am, but we live like spiders--never see the light of day. The mice have even nibbled holes in my uniform. It's not as if there's a

 

 

 

THE BEAR                                                                                                                                                                            215

 

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 . . . . Fair breaks my heart. Ma'am! There you are-a fine, handsome 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 officers' eyes and twist the men round you 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 receiving anyone.

 

   LUKA  Very well, Ma'am. (Exit.)

 

 

216                                                                                                                                                             ANTON CHEKHOV

 

UNIT II

 

   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 leart 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-kins? Deceiving me, making scenes, leaving me all alone for weeks on end . . . .

 

 

 

 

UNIT III

 

Mrs Popova and Luka

 

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

 

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

 

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

   

   POPOVA. I won't see any-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 difficulty they are! What do they want from me? why won't they leave me alone? (Sighs.) I see I really shall have to get me to a nunnery (Thinks.) Yes, a nunnery. . . .

 

 

 

 

UNIT IV

 

Mrs Popova, Luka and Grigory Smirnov

 

   SMIRNOV (enters and addresses Luka).Blockhead! Just mind what you're saying! silly ass! (Sees Popova

 

 

 

THE BEAR                                                                                                                                                                            217

 

and assumes 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 bills 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 Toby 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, and 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 tomorrow.

 

   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.

 

 

 

218                                                                                                                                                             ANTON CHEKHOV

 

   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 one 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.)

 

 

 

UNIT V

 

 

   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 mearly 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

 

 

 

THE BEAR                                                                                                                                                                            219

 

pay up. And all because 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 she 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!

 

 

 

 

UNIT VI

 

   LUKA (enters).What do you want?

 

   SMIRNOV. Bring me some kvass or water.

 

   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. It's enough to make you shout for help.

 

 

 

 

UNIT VII

 

   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

 

 

 

220                                                                                                                                                             ANTON CHEKHOV

 

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 oasts. 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!

 

 

 

THE BEAR                                                                                                                                                                            221

 

 

 

UNIT VIII

 

Mrs Popova and Smirnov

 

   POPOVA (enters with eyes downcast.) 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 untill 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 interest 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,

 

 

 

222                                                                                                                                                             ANTON CHEKHOV

 

pardon me for bothering you. What exquisite weather it is today. And how that 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! Madame, I've seen 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. Time 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 emancipation and wasted half of 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, dimpled cheeks, moonlight, soft whispers, gentle sighs-- I wouldn't give you tupence 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-goddes, muslin-clad 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 for some reason this hyena imagines that 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 affectation 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

 

 

 

THE BEAR                                                                                                                                                                            223

 

constant. You're more likely to find a cat with horns than a constant woman!

 

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

 

   SMIRNOV. Yes, the man.

 

   POPOVA. The man! (Laughs 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 men I have ever known my late husband was the best. I loved him dearly, with all my soul, as only a young, intelligent woman can love. 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 the 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 feelings. 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 black hooded cloak and have biried 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 the 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

 

 

 

 

224                                                                                                                                                             ANTON CHEKHOV

 

and I 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 your fiancée, 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 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.)

 

 

 

 

 

UNIT 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 think 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! Walter!

 

 

 

THE BEAR                                                                                                                         225

 

   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 think you have the right to insult 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 thick 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 emancipation for you. Both sexes

 

 

226                                                                                                           ANTON CHEKHOV

 

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 sayso! A real woman! No moping and moaning-- all fire, gun-powder 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. In spite of the dimples. Wouldn't even mind forgetting about the debt. And my bad temper's gone. A marvellous woman!

 

 

 

 

UNIT 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 (inspecting the pistols) Well, there are several types of pistols, you see. There's the Mortimer, that's a special duelling pistol with capsules. These 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.

 

 

 

 

THE BEAR                                                                                                                         227

 

   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? (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 seen 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 your 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

 

 

 

228                                                                                                           ANTON CHEKHOV

 

coin in the air. I've got some splendid horses. Will you be my wife? 

 

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

 

   SMIRNOV. I've gone mad. I'm head over heels in love like a young stripling, like a fool! (Seizes her hand and 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 live years. Promised I wouldn't. And now I've gone and put my neck in the noose! I offer 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 distance! 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 enough to give you 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.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE BEAR                                                                                                                         229

 

 UNIT XI

 

The same, Luka with an axe, the gardner 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.

 

Curtain

1888

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