might tell her....

[Enter FIERS in a short jacket and white waistcoat.]

FIERS. [Goes to the coffee-pot, nervously] The mistress is going to
have some food here.... [Puts on white gloves] Is the coffee ready? [To
DUNYASHA, severely] You! Where's the cream?

DUNYASHA. Oh, dear me...! [Rapid exit.]

FIERS. [Fussing round the coffee-pot] Oh, you bungler.... [Murmurs
to himself] Back from Paris... the master went to Paris once... in a
carriage.... [Laughs.]

VARYA. What are you talking about, Fiers?

FIERS. I beg your pardon? [Joyfully] The mistress is home again. I've
lived to see her! Don't care if I die now.... [Weeps with joy.]

[Enter LUBOV ANDREYEVNA, GAEV, LOPAKHIN, and SIMEONOV-PISCHIN, the
latter in a long jacket of thin cloth and loose trousers. GAEV, coming
in, moves his arms and body about as if he is playing billiards.]

LUBOV. Let me remember now. Red into the corner! Twice into the centre!

GAEV. Right into the pocket! Once upon a time you and I used both to
sleep in this room, and now I'm fifty-one; it does seem strange.

LOPAKHIN. Yes, time does go.

GAEV. Who does?

LOPAKHIN. I said that time does go.

GAEV. It smells of patchouli here.

ANYA. I'm going to bed. Good-night, mother. [Kisses her.]

LUBOV. My lovely little one. [Kisses her hand] Glad to be at home? I
can't get over it.

ANYA. Good-night, uncle.

GAEV. [Kisses her face and hands] God be with you. How you do resemble
your mother! [To his sister] You were just like her at her age, Luba.

[ANYA gives her hand to LOPAKHIN and PISCHIN and goes out, shutting the
door behind her.]

LUBOV. She's awfully tired.

PISCHIN. It's a very long journey.

VARYA. [To LOPAKHIN and PISCHIN] Well, sirs, it's getting on for three,
quite time you went.

LUBOV. [Laughs] You're just the same as ever, Varya. [Draws her close
and kisses her] I'll have some coffee now, then we'll all go. [FIERS
lays a cushion under her feet] Thank you, dear. I'm used to coffee. I
drink it day and night. Thank you, dear old man. [Kisses FIERS.]

VARYA. I'll go and see if they've brought in all the luggage. [Exit.]

LUBOV. Is it really I who am sitting here? [Laughs] I want to jump
about and wave my arms. [Covers her face with her hands] But suppose I'm
dreaming! God knows I love my own country, I love it deeply; I couldn't
look out of the railway carriage, I cried so much. [Through her tears]
Still, I must have my coffee. Thank you, Fiers. Thank you, dear old