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Zusatztext “Chekhov! speaking simply and never otherwise than as an artist and a humane man! shows us in fullness and plenitude the mystery of our lives.”—Eudora Welty Informationen zum Autor Michael Henry Heim is professor of Slavic Languages and Literatures and Comparative Literature at the University of California, Los Angeles. His previous translations include Anton Chekhov’s Life and Thought: Selected Letters and Commentary (with Simon Karlinsky); The Unbearable Lightness of Being , by Milan Kundera; and My Century , by Günter Grass. He is a member of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences. Klappentext A new rendition of Chekhov's four essential plays! by one of the most admired translators of our time. characters Irína Nikoláevna Arkádina (Trépleva by marriage). An actress. Konstantín Gavrílovich Tréplev (Kóstya). Her son, a young man. Pyotr Nikoláevich Sórin. Her brother. Nína Mikháilovna Zaréchnaya. A young girl, the daughter of a rich landowner. Ilyá Afanásyevich Shamráev. A retired lieutenant, the manager of Sorin’s estate. Polína Andréevna. His wife. María Ilyínichna (Másha). His daughter. Borís Alexéevich Trigórin. A writer. Yevgény Sergéevich Dorn. A doctor. Semyón Sergéevich Medvedénko. A schoolmaster. Yákov. A workman. A Male Cook. A Housemaid. The action takes place on Sorin’s estate. Two years pass between Acts Three and Four. Act One The grounds of Sorin’s estate. A broad tree-lined path leading away from the audience to a lake is cut off by a makeshift stage for an amateur performance. The lake is hidden from view. Bushes to the left and right of the stage. Several chairs, a small table. The sun has just set. On the stage behind a lowered curtain Yakov and other Workmen are heard coughing and hammering. Enter Masha and Medvedenko, left, on their way back from a walk. Medvedenko. Why is it you always wear black? Masha. I’m in mourning for my life. I’m unhappy. Medvedenko. But why? (Thinking hard.) I can’t understand it . . . You’re healthy. Your father may not be rich, but he has a comfortable life. My life’s much harder than yours—I make only twenty-three rubles a month minus pension-fund deductions—and I don’t wear mourning. (They sit down.) Masha. Money doesn’t matter. Even a pauper can be happy. Medvedenko. In theory perhaps, but not in practice. I’ve got myself, my mother, my two sisters, and my little brother to support—and all on twenty-three rubles. We need to eat and drink, don’t we? We need tea and sugar. We need tobacco. Just try and make ends meet. Masha (looking at the stage). The play’s starting soon. Medvedenko. Yes. Nina Zarechnaya in a play by Konstantin Gavrilovich. They’re in love, and today their souls will merge in the desire to create a unified artistic image. But my soul and yours have no points of contact. I love you. I miss you so much I can’t keep away. Every day I walk four miles here and four miles home, and what do I get? Utter indifference. And no wonder. I have no private means and a large family to support . . . Who wants to marry a man with nothing to eat? Masha. Ridiculous. (She takes snuff.) I’m touched by your love. I can’t return it, that’s all. (She holds out the snuffbox to him.) Snuff? Medvedenko. No, none for me. (Pause.) Masha. What a muggy day. We’re in for a storm tonight. All you do is philosophize or talk about money. You think there’s nothing worse than poverty. Well, I think it’s a thousand times easier to go begging in rags than to . . . But you wouldn’t understand . . . (Enter Sorin and Treplev, right.) Sorin (leaning on his cane). I’m just not myself in the country, my boy. Never will be either, you can be sure of that. I went to bed at ten last night, and this mor...
