Vanya On 42nd Street Page #10

But we've changed the subject.

Give me back what you took.

I took nothing.

You took a large vial of morphine

from my medicine case.

If you intend on killing yourself,

take your gun and go off into the woods.

But give me back the drug,

or people will say I gave it to you.

It's enough I'll have to pronounce you dead

and cut you open. You think I'll enjoy that?

Sophie.

Your uncle has filched a vial of morphine

from me and he won't give it back.

- I-Is this true?

- It is true.

Now, will you please tell him that I

must leave and I must have it returned?

Uncle, give it back.

Give it back, Uncle.

Uncle, am I more happy than you?

Am I despairing?

I bear my life, and I shall,

until it comes to its natural end.

So must you. Please.

Give it back.

Give it to me.

Be kind.

You can be so kind. Take pity on me.

Give the bottle back.

Thank you.

All right. I need to do some work.

I need to turn my hand to something.

- Yes.

- Yes.

As soon as they've gone,

we'll sit down and we'll -

Yes.

Do the accounts.

Vanya! Are you here?

Please go to Alexandr.

He has something he wishes to say.

Go on, Uncle. You have to make

it up with him. You know that.

Come on. I'll go in with you.

- I'm leaving. Good-bye.

- Leaving?

- The horses are here.

- Good-bye?

Today, you promised me

you'd move away from here.

Yes, I remember.

I will, presently.

- You're frightened?

- Yes.

Then stay. Stay.

Stay, and tomorrow at the orchard -

No, we're going, which is the

reason I can look at you.

One thing I should like, when you

think of me, to think well of me...

if you can.

I should like you to respect me.

I beg you to stay.

Admit it. There's not one thing

in the world for you to go to.

Sooner or later, you're going

to have to face that fact.

In Kharkov, in Kursk, somewhere.

Why not here, right now?

Just throw it up and begin again.

Right now. Hmm?

It's such a lovely autumn.

We have orchards.

We have rundown country homes

right out of Turgenev.

You're funny...

and I'm angry with you.

I'm sorry.

But I'll think of you with pleasure.

Why is that?

You're an original.

I'll tell you, I was...

taken with you.

I was tempted... by you.

So...

good.

Shake hands.

Don't think ill of me.

Good-bye then.

You know, I'll tell you something.

This is strange.

You see, I'm sure

you're a good, warmhearted person.

Yet what is there in your nature?

Something.

Here you come, you and your husband...

and industrious people drop their work

and neglect their duties...

spend whole months ministering to you,

talking of you, buzzing around you...

worrying for your husband's gout...

your wishes for this

and the other thing...

and all become entangled

in your idleness.

One whole month,

I haven't done a thing.

People are falling ill.

Everything I cared about's decaying.

Your husband and you, where

you alight, you seem to spread decay.

I overstated myself.

Yet had you stayed, I feel something -

something quite terrible for me...

for you too, would've come to pass.

You know it too.

So...

finita la commedia.

Go. And good-bye.

I take this as a memento.

Isn't that something?

You come, we meet.

Suddenly you're gone.

That's the way the world is,

it seems.

Do this though...

before Vanya comes back

with some bouquet for you -

A kiss.

One kiss. Yes?

For good-bye.

Yes?

All right then. That's done.

That's done, and all's well.

- I wish you all the best.

- As I wish you.

Whatever. Whatever.

Whatever.

Um, for once in my life.

- I must go.

- Go quickly.

- They're coming. I think -

- Let bygones be bygones.

I have lived through so much in the

last four hours. I have thought so much.

I think I could compose a treatise

for posterity on how one ought to live.

I gladly accept your apology, and I ask

you to accept mine as well. Farewell.

You shall receive the same amount

that you received before.

Sent without fail, regularly.

Everything will be as it was before.

- Maman.

- Alexandr.

Sit for another photograph. Have it

sent to me. How precious you are to me.

- I will.

- Farewell, Your Excellency.

- Don't forget about us.

- Farewell. Farewell, all.

And thank you for the pleasure

of your company.

I have nothing but the utmost respect

for your way of thinking...

your impulses, your enthusiasm.

But, I pray you,

let an old man season his farewell...

with one small observation.

It's not enough to think.

One must work.

You understand me?

After all, there is no greater joy

than to do real work in the real world.

All the best to you, ladies

and gentlemen. All the best.

I wish you all the best. Good-bye.

Waffles, while they're at it,

have them bring my horses too.

My friend, I will.

Forgive me.

We'll never meet again.

Farewell, my dear.

Farewell.

Not going to see them off?

Let them go where they're going to.

No, it's, uh...

too difficult.

I'm gonna just...

turn - turn my hand to something.

They're gone.

Well, the professor must be thrilled.

God himself couldn't lure

that man back here.

They're gone.

They've gone.

God grant them the best.

Well, Uncle, what shall we do?

- Work.

- Yes.

Absolutely!

What? A long while

since we've been here together.

I think the ink is gone.

Now they're gone, I'm sad.

- They're gone.

- All right.

First we'll start with the accounts.

They're in a wretched state.

A fellow wrote today and said this is

the third time he's asked for his balance.

So you take that one

and I'll take the next one, and so on.

Oh, this is for the account of -

In the stillness, pens are scratching.

The crickets chirp.

Warm.

Close.

You know, I don't feel

like leaving somehow.

There are my horses.

I guess all that's left

is my good-bye. I'm off then.

- Stay a while.

- I can't.

- Doctor, your horses are here.

- Yes, I heard them. Thank you, Waffles.

Uh, would you put this in my carriage?

Exercise extreme care with this, please.

And the portfolio.

- Well -

- When will we see you again?

Ah, not before summer, I'd think.

Hardly this winter.

Of course, if you should need me.

- Thank you for your hospitality.

- Yes.

- For your kindness.

- Yes.

Thank you for everything.

Old one, farewell.

Mmm.

- You haven't had your tea.

- I don't want any.

- A little vodka?

- Perhaps a small one.

I've got my trace horse limping.

Don't know why.

I noticed it yesterday

when he was coming up.

- He needs reshoeing. - I'll stop by

the farrier at Rozhdestvennoye.

- I would.

- No help for him.

You know, I would think down in Africa

the heat must be intense.

I think so.

- Here you are.

- Oh.

- To your health, little father.

- Thank you, Nanny.

- Eat some bread with it.

- Ah!

No, I don't want any, thank you.

Good-bye. All the best to you.

Good-bye.

February the 15th...

February 20th...

five pounds buckwheat.

He's gone.

For a subtotal of 15.20.

Twenty-five.

Mercy.

How hard this is for me.

You don't know how hard it is for me.

You can't know.

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