Notebook of Trigorin, The by Williams Tennessee

Author:Williams, Tennessee [Williams, Tennessee]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Modern Classics, Play, Theater
ISBN: e9780811225311
Publisher: New Directions
Published: 1980-01-15T02:00:00+00:00

ACT THREE

The dining room in Sorin’s house: doors are indicated on the right and left. A sideboard is visible, and a table is in the middle of the room. On the floor are a trunk and hat boxes—signs of preparation for departure. Trigorin is having lunch; Masha is standing by the table. Servants are taking luggage to the carriage.

MASHA: I’m telling all of you this.

TRIGORIN: There’s only myself and you.

MASHA: —Good. You’re a writer and maybe you can use it. If Kostya had wounded himself fatally, I wouldn’t have gone on living another minute.

TRIGORIN: You have more courage than that.

MASHA: But he’s not as seriously hurt as I’ve been for a long time. And now I’ve made up my mind to tear this impossible love out of my heart by the roots.

TRIGORIN: How are you going to do that?

MASHA [pouring herself another vodka]: I’m going to get married.

TRIGORIN: Oh? To whom?

MASHA: The school master—Medvedenko.

TRIGORIN: Are you reconciled to an action as drastic as that?

MASHA: You’ve never loved without hope?

TRIGORIN: Never with much.

MASHA: Spent whole years waiting to be given more than— casual—attention. Marriage will at least give me new concerns that will partially distract me from the old ones. A change, at least a change— Shall we have another?

TRIGORIN: You haven’t had enough, Masha?

MASHA: To live with this sudden decision? Marriage to a school master who thinks that Hamlet’s an English actor, talks constantly of being underpaid?

TRIGORIN: Sit down. Give me that carafe.

MASHA [retreating from him]: Don’t you know women drink more than suspected? Not as openly as I do—most of them in secret. Always vodka or cognac. Why? Why? A compromise like giving myself to Medvedenko, sharing his house, his—bed! And wish me luck! Listening, listening to him! A life sentence of it!

TRIGORIN: There’s a way to pretend to. Just say, “Yes? Yes? Yes?” —Without really hearing a word. I know, I’ve done it. Become an old hand at it.

MASHA: Good luck! —You’re wonderful to talk to. You listen. Boris Alekseyevich? —What’s your impression of me, how do I—look to you?

TRIGORIN: Much superior to the—bargain you say you’ve made. But—I hope it will be endurable to you. A thing that’s endurable is not so easy to come by . . .

MASHA: Can’t you persuade your—?

TRIGORIN: —No. She won’t stay now. Her son is behaving most strangely. First he shoots himself, and now they say he’s going to challenge me to a duel. And for what? Because I’m a writer? But there’s room for all, the old and new.

MASHA: Well, there’s jealousy. However, that’s not my affair.

[Pause. Yakov crosses from right to left carrying a suitcase.]

My school master is none too clever, but he’s kind, and a poor soul, and he loves me very much. I’m sorry for him. And I’m sorry for his old mother. Well, I wish you all the best. Don’t think badly of me.

[Nina enters.]

I’m very grateful to you for spending this time with me. Would it be too much to ask you to send me one of your books—and write this in it.

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