e bothering about such trifles? What does it
matter! Everybody's happy here, and here you go.... [Shouts] The health
of the bride and bridegroom! A march! A march! [The band plays a march]
The health of the bride and bridegroom!

ZMEYUKINA. I'm suffocating! Give me atmosphere! I'm suffocating with you
all round me!

YATS. [In a transport of delight] My beauty! My beauty! [Uproar.]

A GROOMSMAN. [Trying to shout everybody else down] Ladies and gentlemen!
On this occasion, if I may say so...

Curtain.

THE BEAR

CHARACTERS

ELENA IVANOVNA POPOVA, a landowning little widow, with dimples on her
cheeks
GRIGORY STEPANOVITCH SMIRNOV, a middle-aged landowner
LUKA, Popova's aged footman

[A drawing-room in POPOVA'S house.]

[POPOVA is in deep mourning and has her eyes fixed on a photograph. LUKA
is haranguing her.]

LUKA. It isn't right, madam.... You're just destroying yourself. The
maid and the cook have gone off fruit picking, every living being is
rejoicing, even the cat understands how to enjoy herself and walks about
in the yard, catching midges; only you sit in this room all day, as if
this was a convent, and don't take any pleasure. Yes, really! I reckon
it's a whole year that you haven't left the house!

POPOVA. I shall never go out.... Why should I? My life is already at an
end. He is in his grave, and I have buried myself between four walls....
We are both dead.

LUKA. Well, there you are! Nicolai Mihailovitch is dead, well, it's the
will of God, and may his soul rest in peace.... You've mourned him--and
quite right. But you can't go on weeping and wearing mourning for ever.
My old woman died too, when her time came. Well? I grieved over her, I
wept for a month, and that's enough for her, but if I've got to weep
for a whole age, well, the old woman isn't worth it. [Sighs] You've
forgotten all your neighbours. You don't go anywhere, and you see
nobody. We live, so to speak, like spiders, and never see the light.
The mice have eaten my livery. It isn't as if there were no good people
around, for the district's full of them. There's a regiment quartered at
Riblov, and the officers are such beauties--you can never gaze your fill
at them. And, every Friday, there's a ball at the camp, and every day
the soldier's band plays.... Eh, my lady! You're young and beautiful,
with roses in your cheek--if you only took a little pleasure. Beauty
won't last long, you know. In ten years' time yo