SCENE I

TATYANA stands before the mirror putting on a kerchief; AFONYA is lying on the stove-couch; LUKERYA comes in with a figured table-cloth.

LUKERYA.  There, Tanya, I’ve borrowed a cloth from the neighbor to cover our table.  Ours is awfully poor. [Lays the cloth on the table.

TATYANA.  Have you started the samovar?

LUKERYA.  Long ago; it’ll boil soon.  Well, you see it’s just as I told you; that kerchief is much more becoming to you.  But why did you stick the pin through it? [Adjusting it] There, that’s much better.

AFONYA.  Where are you dressing up to go to?  Why are you prinking so at that mirror?

TATYANA.  Nowhere; we’re going to stay at home.

LUKERYA.  What business is it of yours?  Do you think we ought to be as slovenly as yourself?

AFONYA.  But who are you fixing up for?  For your husband?  He loves you more than you deserve even without the fine clothes.  Or is it for some one else?

LUKERYA.  Hear him!  A fool, a fool! yet he understands that she’s dressing up for some one else.

TATYANA.  Why should I dress for my husband?  He knows me anyway.  When I dress, of course it’s for a stranger.

AFONYA.  Who are you going to flirt with?  Who are you going to charm?  Have you no conscience?

LUKERYA.  What’s the use of arguing with a fool!  All he has to do is to chatter.  Lies on the stove-couch and plots trouble.

TATYANA.  What kind of judge are you, anyway?  My husband never says anything to me, and yet you dare to put in your opinion!

AFONYA.  Yes, but he’s blinded by you, blinded.  You’ve given him some sort of love-charm.

LUKERYA.  Keep still, seeing that God has made you a sick man.  Tend to your own business; keep on coughing, there’s no sin in that.

AFONYA.  Fool—­brother is a fool!  He’s ruined himself.

LUKERYA.  Tanya, shouldn’t I bring the samovar in here?

TATYANA.  Yes, and I’ll set the cups. [Puts cups on the table.  LUKERYA goes out] You’d better go into the kitchen.

AFONYA.  I’m all right here.

TATYANA.  Strangers are coming and you’ll make us gloomy.

AFONYA.  I won’t go.

TATYANA.  It’s a true proverb:  “There’s no brewing beer with a fool.”  Our guest is no cheap shopkeeper like your brother.  A gentleman is coming, do you hear?  What are you fussing about?

AFONYA.  What sort of a gentleman?  Why is he coming?

TATYANA.  Just the same kind of gentleman as all the rest.  He’s our acquaintance, a rich landowner; well, now get out!

AFONYA.  He’s a gentleman in his own house, but I’m one here.  I’m not going to him, but he’s coming here.  I’m in my own house, and sick, so I won’t consider anybody.  Was it him you dressed up for?