ace. I am Sonia's godfather, and his Excellency, your
husband, knows me very well. I now live with you, ma'am, on this estate,
and perhaps you will be so good as to notice that I dine with you every
day.

SONIA. He is our great help, our right-hand man. [Tenderly] Dear
godfather, let me pour you some tea.

MME. VOITSKAYA. Oh! Oh!

SONIA. What is it, grandmother?

MME. VOITSKAYA. I forgot to tell Alexander--I have lost my memory--I
received a letter to-day from Paul Alexevitch in Kharkoff. He has sent
me a new pamphlet.

ASTROFF. Is it interesting?

MME. VOITSKAYA. Yes, but strange. He refutes the very theories which he
defended seven years ago. It is appalling!

VOITSKI. There is nothing appalling about it. Drink your tea, mamma.

MME. VOITSKAYA. It seems you never want to listen to what I have to say.
Pardon me, Jean, but you have changed so in the last year that I
hardly know you. You used to be a man of settled convictions and had an
illuminating personality----

VOITSKI. Oh, yes. I had an illuminating personality, which illuminated
no one. [A pause] I had an illuminating personality! You couldn't say
anything more biting. I am forty-seven years old. Until last year I
endeavoured, as you do now, to blind my eyes by your pedantry to the
truths of life. But now--Oh, if you only knew! If you knew how I lie
awake at night, heartsick and angry, to think how stupidly I have wasted
my time when I might have been winning from life everything which my old
age now forbids.

SONIA. Uncle Vanya, how dreary!

MME. VOITSKAYA. [To her son] You speak as if your former convictions
were somehow to blame, but you yourself, not they, were at fault. You
have forgotten that a conviction, in itself, is nothing but a dead
letter. You should have done something.

VOITSKI. Done something! Not every man is capable of being a writer
_perpetuum mobile_ like your Herr Professor.

MME. VOITSKAYA. What do you mean by that?

SONIA. [Imploringly] Mother! Uncle Vanya! I entreat you!

VOITSKI. I am silent. I apologise and am silent. [A pause.]

HELENA. What a fine day! Not too hot. [A pause.]

VOITSKI. A fine day to hang oneself.

TELEGIN tunes the guitar. MARINA appears near the house, calling the
chickens.

MARINA. Chick, chick, chick!

SONIA. What did the peasants want, nurse?

MARINA. The same old thing, the same old nonsense. Chick, chick, chick!

SONIA. Why are you calling the chickens?

MARINA. The speckled hen has