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The Cherry Orchard, Act III
VARYA. Why is Yepikhodov here? Who said he could play billiards? I don't understand these people. [Exit.]
LIUBOV. Don't tease her, Petya, you see that she's quite unhappy without that.
TROFIMOV. She's such a busybody, always poking her nose into other people's business. She hasn't left Anya and me alone the whole summer, she's afraid we're having a...an affair. What business is it of hers? Besides, it's not true. I'd never do anything so sordid. We're above love.
LIUBOV. And I, I suppose, am beneath love. [In agitation] Why isn't Leonid back yet? I just want to know: has the estate been sold or not! The whole disaster seems so impossible to me, I don't know what to think, or do. . . Oh, God, I'm losing my mind! I want to scream . . . or do something completely stupid. Help me, Petya. Say something, say something!
TROFIMOV. Whether they sell it or not, does it make any difference, really? You can't go back to the past. Everything here came to an end a long time ago. Try to calm down. You can't go on deceiving yourself; at least once in your life you have to look the truth straight in the eye.
LIUBOV. What truth? You seem so sure what's truth and what isn't, but I'm not. I've lost any sense of it, I've lost sight of the truth. You're so sure of yourself aren't you, so sure you have all the answers to everything, but darling have you ever really had to live with one of your answers? You're too young! Of course you look into the future and see a brave new world, you don't expect any difficulties, but that's because you know nothing about life! Yes, you have more courage than my generation has, and better morals, and you're better educated, but for God's sake have a little sense of what it's like for me, and be easier on me Petya, I was born here! My parents lived here all their lives; so did my grandfather. I love this house! Without the cherry orchard my life makes no sense, adn if you have to sell it, you might as well sell me with it. (She embraces Trofimov and kisses his forehead) And it was here my son drowned, you know that... (Weeps) Have some feeling for me, Petya, you're such a good, sweet boy.
TROFIMOV. I pity you. (Beat) I do, from the bottom of my heart.
LIUBOV. Yes, should have said that differently, just a little differently. . . . [Takes another handkerchief, a telegram falls on the floor] You can't imagine how miserable I am today. All this noise, and every new sound makes me shake. I can't get away from it, but then when I'm alone in my room I can't stand the silence. Don't judge me, Petya! I love you like one of my own family; I'd be very happy to see you and Anya married, you know I would, only, darling, you must finish school first! You have got to graduate! You don't do anything except drift around from place to place--what kind of life is that? And we have to do something about that beard of yours; it's so scraggly... (Laughs) You've gotten so funny-looking!
TROFIMOV. I have no desire to be good-looking.
LIUBOV. The telegram's from Paris. I get a new one every day. One yesterday, now again today. That madman is sick again and in trouble... He wants me to forgive him, he wants me back... and I suppose I should go back to Paris to be with him. Now see, Petya, you're giving me that superior look, but darling, what am I supposed to do? He's sick, he's alone, he's unhappy, and who has he got to look after him? To give him his medicine and keep him out of trouble? And I love him--why do I have to pretend I don't, or not talk about it? I love him. That's just the way it is: I love him. I love him! He's a millstone around my neck, and he'll drown me with him, but he's my millstone! I love him and I can't live without him! (Grabs Trofimov's hand) Don't judge me Petya, don't think badly of me, just don't say anything, please just don't say anything...
TROFIMOV. (Almost in tears) But for God's sake, you have to face the facts! He robbed you blind!
LIUBOV. No, no, please, you musn't say that, you musn't--
TROFIMOV. He doesn't care a thing for you--you're the only person who doesn't seem to understand that! He's rotten!
LIUBOV. (Gets angry but tires to control it) And you, you're what? Twenty-six, twenty-seven? Listen to you: you sound lik you'd never even graduated to long pants!
TROFIMOV. That's fine with me!
LIUBOV. You're supposed to be a man; at your age you ought to know something about love. You out to be in love yourself! (Angrily) Really! You think you're so smart, you're just a prude who doesn't know the first thing about it, you've probably a virgin, you're ridiculous, you're grotesque--
TROFIMOV. (Horrified) What are you saying!
LIUBOV. "I'm above love!" You're not above love; you've just never gotten down to it! You're all wet, like Firs says. At your age, you ought to be sleeping with someone!
TROFIMOV. What a terrible thing to say! That's terrible! That's just horrible... I can't listen to that; I'm leaving. All is over between us![Exit.]