or each other. And, as you know, my land is a near
neighbour of yours. You will remember that my Oxen Meadows touch your
birchwoods.

NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Excuse my interrupting you. You say, "my Oxen
Meadows...." But are they yours?

LOMOV. Yes, mine.

NATALYA STEPANOVNA. What are you talking about? Oxen Meadows are ours,
not yours!

LOMOV. No, mine, honoured Natalya Stepanovna.

NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Well, I never knew that before. How do you make that
out?

LOMOV. How? I'm speaking of those Oxen Meadows which are wedged in
between your birchwoods and the Burnt Marsh.

NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Yes, yes.... They're ours.

LOMOV. No, you're mistaken, honoured Natalya Stepanovna, they're mine.

NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Just think, Ivan Vassilevitch! How long have they
been yours?

LOMOV. How long? As long as I can remember.

NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Really, you won't get me to believe that!

LOMOV. But you can see from the documents, honoured Natalya Stepanovna.
Oxen Meadows, it's true, were once the subject of dispute, but now
everybody knows that they are mine. There's nothing to argue about.
You see, my aunt's grandmother gave the free use of these Meadows in
perpetuity to the peasants of your father's grandfather, in return for
which they were to make bricks for her. The peasants belonging to your
father's grandfather had the free use of the Meadows for forty years,
and had got into the habit of regarding them as their own, when it
happened that...

NATALYA STEPANOVNA. No, it isn't at all like that! Both my grandfather
and great-grandfather reckoned that their land extended to Burnt
Marsh--which means that Oxen Meadows were ours. I don't see what there
is to argue about. It's simply silly!

LOMOV. I'll show you the documents, Natalya Stepanovna!

NATALYA STEPANOVNA. No, you're simply joking, or making fun of me....
What a surprise! We've had the land for nearly three hundred years, and
then we're suddenly told that it isn't ours! Ivan Vassilevitch, I can
hardly believe my own ears.... These Meadows aren't worth much to me.
They only come to five dessiatins [Note: 13.5 acres], and are worth
perhaps 300 roubles [Note: L30.], but I can't stand unfairness. Say what
you will, but I can't stand unfairness.

LOMOV. Hear me out, I implore you! The peasants of your father's
grandfather, as I have already had the honour of explaining to you, used
to bake bricks for my aunt's grandmother. Now my aunt's grandmother,
wishing