You should be grateful it was Chubukov and I who were
here and not some other persons. Chubukov’s wise decision will
keep your shame hidden. And worry not about poor Guess. We
will hide his shame as well.
NATALYA then reaches into her dress and removes a small piece of dried meat. She places it
into LOMOV’s hand and closes it.
NATALYA
Guess is a good dog. Not the best as you so often claimed but
a good dog. I realize that the Reaper has now taken you but
I wish to bury you with this little bit of meat. I know that it is a
favorite treat of Guess and so by burying you with it, you may
have a little connection to him in the land beyond.

CHUBUKOV gives a hearty laugh and gestures behind him.
CHUBUKOV
But you forget, I arrived by horse and cart. I still have my
picks and shovels loaded and available. We need but merely
to fetch them.
NATALYA
And what of passersby? Will they not hear our efforts?
CHUBUKOV
Perhaps from a distance but at this late hour I expect few will
wander close enough to spy us. We should have the whole of
the area to ourselves until dawn.
NATALYA
Oh, Chubukov, you truly are the wisest of men! Let us begin
right away so that we may be done with this grisly business
before the cock stirs.
CHUBUKOV
A most excellent idea. You should move poor Lomov over there,
to a less visible area and drape your cloak upon him. We should
be cautious even if we expect to be undisturbed. I shall tend to
the horse for a moment and fetch our tools.
CHUBUKOV exits while NATALYA drags LOMOV aside. She then places her cloak over his
body. She turns momentarily but then turns back to LOMOV. She bends down and moves the
cloak aside from his face and chest.
NATALYA
I’m sorry poor Lomov. We never meant to put you in such a
state. You must realize how difficult it was to see any truth in
your claims about your heart. You made them so often and
about such trivial matters we could only infer that you spoke
in jest. After all, who ever heard of a Russian man with a weak
heart?

NATALYA
But what of the passersby? Perhaps one of them heard our
discourse as it’s passions grew. Will they not report this once
news of his passing has spread? How might our intentions appear
then? Everyone knows of his fragile heart for he spoke of it at
every opportunity. Will we then not be blamed for taunting him at
such length?
CHUBUKOV quietly thinks this over while running his fingers through his beard.
CHUBUKOV
You may be correct in your thinking my dear. Even if the rest of
the town were to recognize our innocence in the matter, Lomov’s
damnable sister, Lidiya will surely make claim otherwise.
NATALYA drops LOMOV’s legs where she stands.
NATALYA
Then surely there must be some alternative. Perhaps we can
simply walk away and allow someone else to stumble upon
his corpse?
CHUBUKOV
No, no that carries too much risk. Remember, it may already
be known that we were meeting with this poor creature at this
place.
Both are silent for a beat as they mull over their remaining options.
CHUBUKOV
I can think of only one suitable plan. We must bury him here
and now. Any other option carries with it too much risk.
NATALYA
But how are we to bury him here? Will we not be spied? And
we have no tools for digging? While my hands are sturdy and
thick with callouses like any good Russian woman’s, even
they can not burrow through that much of this earth quickly
enough for our purposes.

LOMOV. And are you a hunter? You only go hunting to get in with the Count and to intrigue. . . .
Oh, my heart! . . . You’re an intriguer!
CHUBUKOV. What? I an intriguer? [Shouts] Shut up!
LOMOV. Intriguer!
CHUBUKOV. Boy! Pup!
LOMOV. Old rat! Jesuit!
CHUBUKOV. Shut up or I’ll shoot you like a partridge! You fool!
LOMOV. Everybody knows thatoh
my heart!your
late wife used to beat you. . . . My feet . . .
temples . . . sparks. . . . I fall, I fall!
CHUBUKOV. And you’re under the slipper of your housekeeper!

LOMOV. And with good reason. The dogs are running after a fox, when Squeezer goes and
starts worrying a sheep!
CHUBUKOV. It’s not true! . . . My dear fellow, I’m very liable to lose my temper, and so, just
because of that, let’s stop arguing. You started because everybody is always jealous of
everybody else’s dogs. Yes, we’re all like that! You too, sir, aren’t blameless! You no sooner
notice that some dog is better than your Guess than you begin with this, that . . . and the other
. . . and all that. . . . I remember everything!
LOMOV. I remember too!
CHUBUKOV. [Teasing him] I remember, too. . . . What do you remember?
LOMOV. My heart . . . my foot’s gone to sleep. . . . I can’t. . .
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. [Teasing] My heart. . . . What sort of a hunter are you? You ought to
go and lie on the kitchen oven and catch blackbeetles, not go after foxes! My heart!
CHUBUKOV. Yes really, what sort of a hunter are you, anyway? You ought to sit at home with
your palpitations, and not go tracking animals. You could go hunting, but you only go to argue
with people and interfere with their dogs and so on. Let’s change the subject in case I lose my
temper. You’re not a hunter at all, anyway!

LOMOV. Stepan Stepanovitch, I implore you to tell me just one thing: is your Squeezer
overshot or not? Yes or no?
CHUBUKOV. And suppose he is? What does it matter? He’s the best dog in the district for all
that, and so on.
LOMOV. But isn’t my Guess better? Really, now?
CHUBUKOV. Don’t excite yourself, my precious one. . . . Allow me. . . . Your Guess certainly
has his good points. . . . He’s purebred,
firm on his feet, has wellsprung
ribs, and all that. But,
my dear man, if you want to know the truth, that dog has two defects: he’s old and he’s short
in the muzzle.
LOMOV. Excuse me, my heart. . . . Let’s take the facts. . . . You will remember that on the
Marusinsky hunt my Guess ran neckandneck
with the Count’s dog, while your Squeezer was
left a whole verst behind.
CHUBUKOV. He got left behind because the Count’s whipperin
hit him with his whip.

NATALYA STEPANOVNA. I shan’t shut up until you acknowledge that Squeezer is a hundred
times better than your Guess!
LOMOV. A hundred times worse! Be hanged to your Squeezer! His head . . . eyes . . .
shoulder . . .
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. There’s no need to hang your silly Guess; he’s halfdead
already!
LOMOV. [Weeps] Shut up! My heart’s bursting!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. I shan’t shut up.
Enter CHUBUKOV.
CHUBUKOV. What’s the matter now?
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Papa, tell us truly, which is the better dog, our Squeezer or his
Guess.

LOMOV. I see, Natalya Stepanovna, that you consider me either blind or a fool. You must
realize that Squeezer is overshot!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. It’s not true.
LOMOV. He is!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. It’s not true!
LOMOV. Why shout, madam?
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Why talk rot? It’s awful! It’s time your Guess was shot, and you
compare him with Squeezer!
LOMOV. Excuse me; I cannot continue this discussion: my heart is palpitating.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. I’ve noticed that those hunters argue most who know least.
LOMOV. Madam, please be silent. . . . My heart is going to pieces. . . . [Shouts] Shut up!

LOMOV. I assure you that his lower jaw is shorter than the upper.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Have you measured?
LOMOV. Yes. He’s all right at following, of course, but if you want him to get hold of anything . .
.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. In the first place, our Squeezer is a thoroughbred animal, the son of
Harness and Chisels, while there’s no getting at the pedigree of your dog at all. . . . He’s old
and as ugly as a wornout
cabhorse.
LOMOV. He is old, but I wouldn’t take five Squeezers for him. . . . Why, how can you? . . .
Guess is a dog; as for Squeezer, well, it’s too funny to argue. . . . Anybody you like has a dog
as good as Squeezer . . . you may find them under every bush almost. Twentyfive
roubles
would be a handsome price to pay for him.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. There’s some demon of contradiction in you today,
Ivan
Vassilevitch. First you pretend that the Meadows are yours; now, that Guess is better than
Squeezer. I don’t like people who don’t say what they mean, because you know perfectly well
that Squeezer is a hundred times better than your silly Guess. Why do you want to say it isn’t?