Lubov monologue (Act 4) — Plays by Anton Chekhov, Second Series

Yes, but it ought to be said differently, differently.... [Takes another handkerchief, a telegram falls on the floor] I’m so sick at heart to-day, you can’t imagine. Here it’s so noisy, my soul shakes at every sound. I shake all over, and I can’t go away by myself, I’m afraid of the silence. Don’t judge me harshly, Peter... I loved you, as if you belonged to my family. I’d gladly let Anya marry you, I swear it, only dear, you ought to work, finish your studies. You don’t do anything, only fate throws you about from place to place, it’s so odd.... Isn’t it true? Yes? And you ought to do something to your beard to make it grow better [Laughs] You are funny!