More subtly, there is the unctuous sadism of money and of social rank. Young women are simply sold off to rheumy, ageing bidders. Alcoholics are mocked and tormented when they cannot scrounge the kopek needed for their next drink. The wonderfully compassionate Chekhov was yet to mature. The other trait concerns the often wretched condition of women.
Monied widowhood is their only nirvana.
The empathy with women which will irradiate Uncle Vanya is yet to come. There are flashes of true humour and chimes of pathos. A masterly eye is gaining confidence in its economy of observation. And even an ephemeral Chekhov is, after all, Chekhov.