THE SEA-GULL

by Anton Checkov

A Play In Four Acts

CHARACTERS

IRINA ABKADINA, an actress

CONSTANTINE TREPLIEFF, her son

PETER SORIN, her brother

NINA ZARIETCHNAYA, a young girl, the daughter of a rich landowner

ILIA SHAMRAEFF, the manager of SORIN'S estate

PAULINA, his wife

MASHA, their daughter

BORIS TRIGORIN, an author

EUGENE DORN, a doctor

SIMON MEDVIEDENKO, a schoolmaster

JACOB, a workman

A COOK

A MAIDSERVANT

_The scene is laid on SORIN'S estate. Two years elapse between the thirdand fourth acts_. 

THE SEA-GULL

ACT I

_The scene is laid in the park on SORIN'S estate. A broad avenue oftrees leads away from the audience toward a lake which lies lost inthe depths of the park. The avenue is obstructed by a rough stage, temporarily erected for the performance of amateur theatricals, andwhich screens the lake from view. There is a dense growth of bushes tothe left and right of the stage. A few chairs and a little table areplaced in front of the stage. The sun has just set. JACOB and some otherworkmen are heard hammering and coughing on the stage behind the loweredcurtain_. 

MASHA and MEDVIEDENKO come in from the left, returning from a walk. 

MEDVIEDENKO. Why do you always wear mourning?

MASHA. I dress in black to match my life. I am unhappy. 

MEDVIEDENKO. Why should you be unhappy? [Thinking it over] I don'tunderstand it. You are healthy, and though your father is not rich, hehas a good competency. My life is far harder than yours. I only havetwenty-three roubles a month to live on, but I don't wear mourning. [They sit down]. 

MASHA. Happiness does not depend on riches; poor men are often happy. 

MEDVIEDENKO. In theory, yes, but not in reality. Take my case, forinstance; my mother, my two sisters, my little brother and I must alllive somehow on my salary of twenty-three roubles a month. We have toeat and drink, I take it. You wouldn't have us go without tea and sugar, would you? Or tobacco? Answer me that, if you can. 

MASHA. [Looking in the direction of the stage] The play will soon begin. 

MEDVIEDENKO. Yes, Nina Zarietchnaya is going to act in Treplieff's play. They love one another, and their two souls will unite to-night in theeffort to interpret the same idea by different means. There is no groundon which your soul and mine can meet. I love you. Too restless and sadto stay at home, I tramp here every day, six miles and back, to be metonly by your indifference. I am poor, my family is large, you can haveno inducement to marry a man who cannot even find sufficient food forhis own mouth. 

MASHA. It is not that. [She takes snuff] I am touched by your affection, but I cannot return it, that is all. [She offers him the snuff-box] Willyou take some?

MEDVIEDENKO. No, thank you. [A pause. ]

MASHA. The air is sultry; a storm is brewing for to-night. You donothing but moralise or else talk about money. To you, poverty is thegreatest misfortune that can befall a man, but I think it is a thousandtimes easier to go begging in rags than to--You wouldn't understandthat, though. 

SORIN leaning on a cane, and TREPLIEFF come in. 

SORIN. For some reason, my boy, country life doesn't suit me, and I amsure I shall never get used to it. Last night I went to bed at ten andwoke at nine this morning, feeling as if, from oversleep, my brain hadstuck to my skull. [Laughing] And yet I accidentally dropped off tosleep again after dinner, and feel utterly done up at this moment. It islike a nightmare. 

TREPLIEFF. There is no doubt that you should live in town. [He catchessight of MASHA and MEDVIEDENKO] You shall be called when the playbegins, my friends, but you must not stay here now. Go away, please. 

SORIN. Miss Masha, will you kindly ask your father to leave the dogunchained? It howled so last night that my sister was unable to sleep. 

MASHA. You must speak to my father yourself. Please excuse me; I can'tdo so. [To MEDVIEDENKO] Come, let us go. 

MEDVIEDENKO. You will let us know when the play begins?

MASHA and MEDVIEDENKO go out. 

SORIN. I foresee that that dog is going to howl all night again. It isalways this way in the country; I have never been able to live as I likehere. I come down for a month's holiday, to rest and all, and amplagued so by their nonsense that I long to escape after the first day. [Laughing] I have always been glad to get away from this place, but Ihave been retired now, and this was the only place I had to come to. Willy-nilly, one must live somewhere. 

JACOB. [To TREPLIEFF] We are going to take a swim, Mr. Constantine. 

TREPLIEFF. Very well, but you must be back in ten minutes. 

JACOB. We will, sir. 

TREPLIEFF. [Looking at the stage] Just like a real theatre! See, there we have the curtain, the foreground, the background, and all. Noartificial scenery is needed. The eye travels direct to the lake, andrests on the horizon. The curtain will be raised as the moon rises athalf-past eight. 

SORIN. Splendid!

TREPLIEFF. Of course the whole effect will be ruined if Nina is late. She should be here by now, but her father and stepmother watch her soclosely that it is like stealing her from a prison to get her away fromhome. [He straightens SORIN'S collar] Your hair and beard are all onend. Oughtn't you to have them trimmed?

SORIN. [Smoothing his beard] They are the tragedy of my existence. Evenwhen I was young I always looked as if I were drunk, and all. Women havenever liked me. [Sitting down] Why is my sister out of temper?

TREPLIEFF. Why? Because she is jealous and bored. [Sitting down besideSORIN] She is not acting this evening, but Nina is, and so she has setherself against me, and against the performance of the play, and againstthe play itself, which she hates without ever having read it. 

SORIN. [Laughing] Does she, really?

TREPLIEFF. Yes, she is furious because Nina is going to have asuccess on this little stage. [Looking at his watch] My mother is apsychological curiosity. Without doubt brilliant and talented, capableof sobbing over a novel, of reciting all Nekrasoff's poetry by heart, and of nursing the sick like an angel of heaven, you should see whathappens if any one begins praising Duse to her! She alone must bepraised and written about, raved over, her marvellous acting in "La Dameaux Camelias" extolled to the skies. As she cannot get all that rubbishin the country, she grows peevish and cross, and thinks we are allagainst her, and to blame for it all. She is superstitious, too. Shedreads burning three candles, and fears the thirteenth day of the month. Then she is stingy. I know for a fact that she has seventy thousandroubles in a bank at Odessa, but she is ready to burst into tears if youask her to lend you a penny. 

SORIN. You have taken it into your head that your mother dislikes yourplay, and the thought of it has excited you, and all. Keep calm; yourmother adores you. 

TREPLIEFF. [Pulling a flower to pieces] She loves me, loves me not;loves--loves me not; loves--loves me not! [Laughing] You see, shedoesn't love me, and why should she? She likes life and love and gayclothes, and I am already twenty-five years old; a sufficient reminderto her that she is no longer young. When I am away she is onlythirty-two, in my presence she is forty-three, and she hates me forit. She knows, too, that I despise the modern stage. She adores it, andimagines that she is working on it for the benefit of humanity and hersacred art, but to me the theatre is merely the vehicle of conventionand prejudice. When the curtain rises on that little three-walled room, when those mighty geniuses, those high-priests of art, show us people inthe act of eating, drinking, loving, walking, and wearing their coats, and attempt to extract a moral from their insipid talk; when playwrightsgive us under a thousand different guises the same, same, same oldstuff, then I must needs run from it, as Maupassant ran from the EiffelTower that was about to crush him by its vulgarity. 

SORIN. But we can't do without a theatre. 

TREPLIEFF. No, but we must have it under a new form. If we can't dothat, let us rather not have it at all. [Looking at his watch] I love mymother, I love her devotedly, but I think she leads a stupid life. Shealways has this man of letters of hers on her mind, and the newspapersare always frightening her to death, and I am tired of it. Plain, humanegoism sometimes speaks in my heart, and I regret that my mother isa famous actress. If she were an ordinary woman I think I should bea happier man. What could be more intolerable and foolish than myposition, Uncle, when I find myself the only nonentity among a crowd ofher guests, all celebrated authors and artists? I feel that they onlyendure me because I am her son. Personally I am nothing, nobody. Ipulled through my third year at college by the skin of my teeth, as theysay. I have neither money nor brains, and on my passport you may readthat I am simply a citizen of Kiev. So was my father, but he wasa well-known actor. When the celebrities that frequent my mother'sdrawing-room deign to notice me at all, I know they only look at meto measure my insignificance; I read their thoughts, and suffer fromhumiliation. 

SORIN. Tell me, by the way, what is Trigorin like? I can't understandhim, he is always so silent. 

TREPLIEFF. Trigorin is clever, simple, well-mannered, and a little, Imight say, melancholic in disposition. Though still under forty, he issurfeited with praise. As for his stories, they are--how shall I putit?--pleasing, full of talent, but if you have read Tolstoi or Zola yousomehow don't enjoy Trigorin. 

SORIN. Do you know, my boy, I like literary men. I once passionatelydesired two things: to marry, and to become an author. I have succeededin neither. It must be pleasant to be even an insignificant author. 

TREPLIEFF. [Listening] I hear footsteps! [He embraces his uncle] Icannot live without her; even the sound of her footsteps is music to me. I am madly happy. [He goes quickly to meet NINA, who comes in at thatmoment] My enchantress! My girl of dreams!

NINA. [Excitedly] It can't be that I am late? No, I am not late. 

TREPLIEFF. [Kissing her hands] No, no, no!

NINA. I have been in a fever all day, I was so afraid my father wouldprevent my coming, but he and my stepmother have just gone driving. Thesky is clear, the moon is rising. How I hurried to get here! How I urgedmy horse to go faster and faster! [Laughing] I am _so_ glad to see you![She shakes hands with SORIN. ]

SORIN. Oho! Your eyes look as if you had been crying. You mustn't dothat. 

NINA. It is nothing, nothing. Do let us hurry. I must go in half anhour. No, no, for heaven's sake do not urge me to stay. My fatherdoesn't know I am here. 

TREPLIEFF. As a matter of fact, it is time to begin now. I must call theaudience. 

SORIN. Let me call them--and all--I am going this minute. [He goestoward the right, begins to sing "The Two Grenadiers, " then stops. ]I was singing that once when a fellow-lawyer said to me: "You have apowerful voice, sir. " Then he thought a moment and added, "But it is adisagreeable one!" [He goes out laughing. ]

NINA. My father and his wife never will let me come here; they call thisplace Bohemia and are afraid I shall become an actress. But this lakeattracts me as it does the gulls. My heart is full of you. [She glancesabout her. ]

TREPLIEFF. We are alone. 

NINA. Isn't that some one over there?

TREPLIEFF. No. [They kiss one another. ]

NINA. What is that tree?

TREPLIEFF. An elm. 

NINA. Why does it look so dark?

TREPLIEFF. It is evening; everything looks dark now. Don't go awayearly, I implore you. 

NINA. I must. 

TREPLIEFF. What if I were to follow you, Nina? I shall stand in yourgarden all night with my eyes on your window. 

NINA. That would be impossible; the watchman would see you, and Treasureis not used to you yet, and would bark. 

TREPLIEFF. I love you. 

NINA. Hush!

TREPLIEFF. [Listening to approaching footsteps] Who is that? Is it you, Jacob?

JACOB. [On the stage] Yes, sir. 

TREPLIEFF. To your places then. The moon is rising; the play mustcommence. 

NINA. Yes, sir. 

TREPLIEFF. Is the alcohol ready? Is the sulphur ready? There must befumes of sulphur in the air when the red eyes shine out. [To NINA] Go, now, everything is ready. Are you nervous?

NINA. Yes, very. I am not so much afraid of your mother as I am ofTrigorin. I am terrified and ashamed to act before him; he is so famous. Is he young?

TREPLIEFF. Yes. 

NINA. What beautiful stories he writes!

TREPLIEFF. [Coldly] I have never read any of them, so I can't say. 

NINA. Your play is very hard to act; there are no living characters init. 

TREPLIEFF. Living characters! Life must be represented not as it is, butas it ought to be; as it appears in dreams. 

NINA. There is so little action; it seems more like a recitation. Ithink love should always come into every play. 

NINA and TREPLIEFF go up onto the little stage; PAULINA and DORN comein. 

PAULINA. It is getting damp. Go back and put on your goloshes. 

DORN. I am quite warm. 

PAULINA. You never will take care of yourself; you are quite obstinateabout it, and yet you are a doctor, and know quite well that damp air isbad for you. You like to see me suffer, that's what it is. You sat outon the terrace all yesterday evening on purpose. 

DORN. [Sings]

"Oh, tell me not that youth is wasted. "

PAULINA. You were so enchanted by the conversation of Madame Arkadinathat you did not even notice the cold. Confess that you admire her. 

DORN. I am fifty-five years old. 

PAULINA. A trifle. That is not old for a man. You have kept your looksmagnificently, and women still like you. 

DORN. What are you trying to tell me?

PAULINA. You men are all ready to go down on your knees to an actress, all of you. 

DORN. [Sings]

"Once more I stand before thee. "

It is only right that artists should be made much of by society andtreated differently from, let us say, merchants. It is a kind ofidealism. 

PAULINA. When women have loved you and thrown themselves at your head, has that been idealism?

DORN. [Shrugging his shoulders] I can't say. There has been a great dealthat was admirable in my relations with women. In me they liked, aboveall, the superior doctor. Ten years ago, you remember, I was the onlydecent doctor they had in this part of the country--and then, I havealways acted like a man of honour. 

PAULINA. [Seizes his hand] Dearest!

DORN. Be quiet! Here they come. 

ARKADINA comes in on SORIN'S arm; also TRIGORIN, SHAMRAEFF, MEDVIEDENKO, and MASHA. 

SHAMRAEFF. She acted most beautifully at the Poltava Fair in 1873; shewas really magnificent. But tell me, too, where Tchadin the comedian isnow? He was inimitable as Rasplueff, better than Sadofski. Where is henow?

ARKADINA. Don't ask me where all those antediluvians are! I know nothingabout them. [She sits down. ]

SHAMRAEFF. [Sighing] Pashka Tchadin! There are none left like him. Thestage is not what it was in his time. There were sturdy oaks growing onit then, where now but stumps remain. 

DORN. It is true that we have few dazzling geniuses these days, but, onthe other hand, the average of acting is much higher. 

SHAMRAEFF. I cannot agree with you; however, that is a matter of taste, _de gustibus. _

Enter TREPLIEFF from behind the stage. 

ARKADINA. When will the play begin, my dear boy?

TREPLIEFF. In a moment. I must ask you to have patience. 

ARKADINA. [Quoting from Hamlet] My son, "Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul; And there I see such black grained spots As will not leave their tinct. "

[A horn is blown behind the stage. ]

TREPLIEFF. Attention, ladies and gentlemen! The play is about to begin. [A pause] I shall commence. [He taps the door with a stick, and speaksin a loud voice] O, ye time-honoured, ancient mists that drive at nightacross the surface of this lake, blind you our eyes with sleep, and showus in our dreams that which will be in twice ten thousand years!

SORIN. There won't be anything in twice ten thousand years. 

TREPLIEFF. Then let them now show us that nothingness. 

ARKADINA. Yes, let them--we are asleep. 

The curtain rises. A vista opens across the lake. The moon hangs lowabove the horizon and is reflected in the water. NINA, dressed in white, is seen seated on a great rock. 

NINA. All men and beasts, lions, eagles, and quails, horned stags, geese, spiders, silent fish that inhabit the waves, starfish from thesea, and creatures invisible to the eye--in one word, life--all, alllife, completing the dreary round imposed upon it, has died out at last. A thousand years have passed since the earth last bore a living creatureon her breast, and the unhappy moon now lights her lamp in vain. Nolonger are the cries of storks heard in the meadows, or the drone ofbeetles in the groves of limes. All is cold, cold. All is void, void, void. All is terrible, terrible--[A pause] The bodies of all livingcreatures have dropped to dust, and eternal matter has transformed theminto stones and water and clouds; but their spirits have flowed togetherinto one, and that great world-soul am I! In me is the spirit of thegreat Alexander, the spirit of Napoleon, of Caesar, of Shakespeare, and of the tiniest leech that swims. In me the consciousness of man hasjoined hands with the instinct of the animal; I understand all, all, all, and each life lives again in me. 

[The will-o-the-wisps flicker out along the lake shore. ]

ARKADINA. [Whispers] What decadent rubbish is this?

TREPLIEFF. [Imploringly] Mother!

NINA. I am alone. Once in a hundred years my lips are opened, my voiceechoes mournfully across the desert earth, and no one hears. And you, poor lights of the marsh, you do not hear me. You are engendered atsunset in the putrid mud, and flit wavering about the lake till dawn, unconscious, unreasoning, unwarmed by the breath of life. Satan, fatherof eternal matter, trembling lest the spark of life should glow in you, has ordered an unceasing movement of the atoms that compose you, and soyou shift and change for ever. I, the spirit of the universe, I aloneam immutable and eternal. [A pause] Like a captive in a dungeon deep andvoid, I know not where I am, nor what awaits me. One thing only is nothidden from me: in my fierce and obstinate battle with Satan, the sourceof the forces of matter, I am destined to be victorious in the end. Matter and spirit will then be one at last in glorious harmony, and thereign of freedom will begin on earth. But this can only come to pass byslow degrees, when after countless eons the moon and earth and shiningSirius himself shall fall to dust. Until that hour, oh, horror! horror!horror! [A pause. Two glowing red points are seen shining across thelake] Satan, my mighty foe, advances; I see his dread and lurid eyes. 

ARKADINA. I smell sulphur. Is that done on purpose?

TREPLIEFF. Yes. 

ARKADINA. Oh, I see; that is part of the effect. 

TREPLIEFF. Mother!

NINA. He longs for man--

PAULINA. [To DORN] You have taken off your hat again! Put it on, youwill catch cold. 

ARKADINA. The doctor has taken off his hat to Satan father of eternalmatter--

TREPLIEFF. [Loudly and angrily] Enough of this! There's an end to theperformance. Down with the curtain!

ARKADINA. Why, what are you so angry about?

TREPLIEFF. [Stamping his foot] The curtain; down with it! [The curtainfalls] Excuse me, I forgot that only a chosen few might write plays oract them. I have infringed the monopoly. I--I---

He would like to say more, but waves his hand instead, and goes out tothe left. 

ARKADINA. What is the matter with him?

SORIN. You should not handle youthful egoism so roughly, sister. 

ARKADINA. What did I say to him?

SORIN. You hurt his feelings. 

ARKADINA. But he told me himself that this was all in fun, so I treatedhis play as if it were a comedy. 

SORIN. Nevertheless---

ARKADINA. Now it appears that he has produced a masterpiece, if youplease! I suppose it was not meant to amuse us at all, but that hearranged the performance and fumigated us with sulphur to demonstrate tous how plays should be written, and what is worth acting. I am tiredof him. No one could stand his constant thrusts and sallies. He is awilful, egotistic boy. 

SORIN. He had hoped to give you pleasure. 

ARKADINA. Is that so? I notice, though, that he did not choose anordinary play, but forced his decadent trash on us. I am willing tolisten to any raving, so long as it is not meant seriously, but inshowing us this, he pretended to be introducing us to a new form of art, and inaugurating a new era. In my opinion, there was nothing new aboutit, it was simply an exhibition of bad temper. 

TRIGORIN. Everybody must write as he feels, and as best he may. 

ARKADINA. Let him write as he feels and can, but let him spare me hisnonsense. 

DORN. Thou art angry, O Jove!

ARKADINA. I am a woman, not Jove. [She lights a cigarette] And I am notangry, I am only sorry to see a young man foolishly wasting his time. Idid not mean to hurt him. 

MEDVIEDENKO. No one has any ground for separating life from matter, asthe spirit may well consist of the union of material atoms. [Excitedly, to TRIGORIN] Some day you should write a play, and put on the stage thelife of a schoolmaster. It is a hard, hard life. 

ARKADINA. I agree with you, but do not let us talk about plays or atomsnow. This is such a lovely evening. Listen to the singing, friends, howsweet it sounds. 

PAULINA. Yes, they are singing across the water. [A pause. ]

ARKADINA. [To TRIGORIN] Sit down beside me here. Ten or fifteen yearsago we had music and singing on this lake almost all night. There aresix houses on its shores. All was noise and laughter and romance then, such romance! The young star and idol of them all in those days was thisman here, [Nods toward DORN] Doctor Eugene Dorn. He is fascinating now, but he was irresistible then. But my conscience is beginning toprick me. Why did I hurt my poor boy? I am uneasy about him. [Loudly]Constantine! Constantine!

MASHA. Shall I go and find him?

ARKADINA. If you please, my dear. 

MASHA. [Goes off to the left, calling] Mr. Constantine! Oh, Mr. Constantine!

NINA. [Comes in from behind the stage] I see that the play will never befinished, so now I can go home. Good evening. [She kisses ARKADINA andPAULINA. ]

SORIN. Bravo! Bravo!

ARKADINA. Bravo! Bravo! We were quite charmed by your acting. With yourlooks and such a lovely voice it is a crime for you to hide yourselfin the country. You must be very talented. It is your duty to go on thestage, do you hear me?

NINA. It is the dream of my life, which will never come true. 

ARKADINA. Who knows? Perhaps it will. But let me present Monsieur BorisTrigorin. 

NINA. I am delighted to meet you. [Embarrassed] I have read all yourbooks. 

ARKADINA. [Drawing NINA down beside her] Don't be afraid of him, dear. He is a simple, good-natured soul, even if he is a celebrity. See, he isembarrassed himself. 

DORN. Couldn't the curtain be raised now? It is depressing to have itdown. 

SHAMRAEFF. [Loudly] Jacob, my man! Raise the curtain!

NINA. [To TRIGORIN] It was a curious play, wasn't it?

TRIGORIN. Very. I couldn't understand it at all, but I watched it withthe greatest pleasure because you acted with such sincerity, and thesetting was beautiful. [A pause] There must be a lot of fish in thislake. 

NINA. Yes, there are. 

TRIGORIN. I love fishing. I know of nothing pleasanter than to sit on alake shore in the evening with one's eyes on a floating cork. 

NINA. Why, I should think that for one who has tasted the joys ofcreation, no other pleasure could exist. 

ARKADINA. Don't talk like that. He always begins to flounder when peoplesay nice things to him. 

SHAMRAEFF. I remember when the famous Silva was singing once in theOpera House at Moscow, how delighted we all were when he took the low C. Well, you can imagine our astonishment when one of the church cantors, who happened to be sitting in the gallery, suddenly boomed out: "Bravo, Silva!" a whole octave lower. Like this: [In a deep bass voice] "Bravo, Silva!" The audience was left breathless. [A pause. ]

DORN. An angel of silence is flying over our heads. 

NINA. I must go. Good-bye. 

ARKADINA. Where to? Where must you go so early? We shan't allow it. 

NINA. My father is waiting for me. 

ARKADINA. How cruel he is, really. [They kiss each other] Then I supposewe can't keep you, but it is very hard indeed to let you go. 

NINA. If you only knew how hard it is for me to leave you all. 

ARKADINA. Somebody must see you home, my pet. 

NINA. [Startled] No, no!

SORIN. [Imploringly] Don't go!

NINA. I must. 

SORIN. Stay just one hour more, and all. Come now, really, you know. 

NINA. [Struggling against her desire to stay; through her tears] No, no, I can't. [She shakes hands with him and quickly goes out. ]

ARKADINA. An unlucky girl! They say that her mother left the whole of animmense fortune to her husband, and now the child is penniless becausethe father has already willed everything away to his second wife. It ispitiful. 

DORN. Yes, her papa is a perfect beast, and I don't mind saying so--itis what he deserves. 

SORIN. [Rubbing his chilled hands] Come, let us go in; the night isdamp, and my legs are aching. 

ARKADINA. Yes, you act as if they were turned to stone; you can hardlymove them. Come, you unfortunate old man. [She takes his arm. ]

SHAMRAEFF. [Offering his arm to his wife] Permit me, madame. 

SORIN. I hear that dog howling again. Won't you please have itunchained, Shamraeff?

SHAMRAEFF. No, I really can't, sir. The granary is full of millet, andI am afraid thieves might break in if the dog were not there. [Walkingbeside MEDVIEDENKO] Yes, a whole octave lower: "Bravo, Silva!" and hewasn't a singer either, just a simple church cantor. 

MEDVIEDENKO. What salary does the church pay its singers? [All go outexcept DORN. ]

DORN. I may have lost my judgment and my wits, but I must confess Iliked that play. There was something in it. When the girl spoke of hersolitude and the Devil's eyes gleamed across the lake, I felt my handsshaking with excitement. It was so fresh and naive. But here he comes;let me say something pleasant to him. 

TREPLIEFF comes in. 

TREPLIEFF. All gone already?

DORN. I am here. 

TREPLIEFF. Masha has been yelling for me all over the park. Aninsufferable creature. 

DORN. Constantine, your play delighted me. It was strange, of course, and I did not hear the end, but it made a deep impression on me. Youhave a great deal of talent, and must persevere in your work. 

TREPLIEFF seizes his hand and squeezes it hard, then kisses himimpetuously. 

DORN. Tut, tut! how excited you are. Your eyes are full of tears. Listento me. You chose your subject in the realm of abstract thought, and youdid quite right. A work of art should invariably embody some lofty idea. Only that which is seriously meant can ever be beautiful. How pale youare!

TREPLIEFF. So you advise me to persevere?

DORN. Yes, but use your talent to express only deep and eternal truths. I have led a quiet life, as you know, and am a contented man, but if Ishould ever experience the exaltation that an artist feels during hismoments of creation, I think I should spurn this material envelope of mysoul and everything connected with it, and should soar away into heightsabove this earth. 

TREPLIEFF. I beg your pardon, but where is Nina?

DORN. And yet another thing: every work of art should have a definiteobject in view. You should know why you are writing, for if you followthe road of art without a goal before your eyes, you will lose yourself, and your genius will be your ruin. 

TREPLIEFF. [Impetuously] Where is Nina?

DORN. She has gone home. 

TREPLIEFF. [In despair] Gone home? What shall I do? I want to see her; Imust see her! I shall follow her. 

DORN. My dear boy, keep quiet. 

TREPLIEFF. I am going. I must go. 

MASHA comes in. 

MASHA. Your mother wants you to come in, Mr. Constantine. She is waitingfor you, and is very uneasy. 

TREPLIEFF. Tell her I have gone away. And for heaven's sake, all of you, leave me alone! Go away! Don't follow me about!

DORN. Come, come, old chap, don't act like this; it isn't kind at all. 

TREPLIEFF. [Through his tears] Good-bye, doctor, and thank you. 

TREPLIEFF goes out. 

DORN. [Sighing] Ah, youth, youth!

MASHA. It is always "Youth, youth, " when there is nothing else to besaid. 

She takes snuff. DORN takes the snuff-box out of her hands and flings itinto the bushes. 

DORN. Don't do that, it is horrid. [A pause] I hear music in the house. I must go in. 

MASHA. Wait a moment. 

DORN. What do you want?

MASHA. Let me tell you again. I feel like talking. [She grows more andmore excited] I do not love my father, but my heart turns to you. Forsome reason, I feel with all my soul that you are near to me. Help me!Help me, or I shall do something foolish and mock at my life, and ruinit. I am at the end of my strength. 

DORN. What is the matter? How can I help you?

MASHA. I am in agony. No one, no one can imagine how I suffer. [She laysher head on his shoulder and speaks softly] I love Constantine. 

DORN. Oh, how excitable you all are! And how much love there is aboutthis lake of spells! [Tenderly] But what can I do for you, my child?What? What?

The curtain falls. 

ACT II

_The lawn in front of SORIN'S house. The house stands in the background, on a broad terrace. The lake, brightly reflecting the rays of the sun, lies to the left. There are flower-beds here and there. It is noon;the day is hot. ARKADINA, DORN, and MASHA are sitting on a bench on thelawn, in the shade of an old linden. An open book is lying on DORN'Sknees_. 

ARKADINA. [To MASHA] Come, get up. [They both get up] Stand beside me. You are twenty-two and I am almost twice your age. Tell me, Doctor, which of us is the younger looking?

DORN. You are, of course. 

ARKADINA. You see! Now why is it? Because I work; my heart and mind arealways busy, whereas you never move off the same spot. You don't live. It is a maxim of mine never to look into the future. I never admit thethought of old age or death, and just accept what comes to me. 

MASHA. I feel as if I had been in the world a thousand years, and Itrail my life behind me like an endless scarf. Often I have no desireto live at all. Of course that is foolish. One ought to pull oneselftogether and shake off such nonsense. 

DORN. [Sings softly]

"Tell her, oh flowers--"

ARKADINA. And then I keep myself as correct-looking as an Englishman. Iam always well-groomed, as the saying is, and carefully dressed, with myhair neatly arranged. Do you think I should ever permit myself to leavethe house half-dressed, with untidy hair? Certainly not! I have kept mylooks by never letting myself slump as some women do. [She puts her armsakimbo, and walks up and down on the lawn] See me, tripping on tiptoelike a fifteen-year-old girl. 

DORN. I see. Nevertheless, I shall continue my reading. [He takes up hisbook] Let me see, we had come to the grain-dealer and the rats. 

ARKADINA. And the rats. Go on. [She sits down] No, give me the book, itis my turn to read. [She takes the book and looks for the place] Andthe rats. Ah, here it is. [She reads] "It is as dangerous for society toattract and indulge authors as it is for grain-dealers to raise ratsin their granaries. Yet society loves authors. And so, when a womanhas found one whom she wishes to make her own, she lays siege to himby indulging and flattering him. " That may be so in France, but itcertainly is not so in Russia. We do not carry out a programme likethat. With us, a woman is usually head over ears in love with an authorbefore she attempts to lay siege to him. You have an example before youreyes, in me and Trigorin. 

SORIN comes in leaning on a cane, with NINA beside him. MEDVIEDENKOfollows, pushing an arm-chair. 

SORIN. [In a caressing voice, as if speaking to a child] So we are happynow, eh? We are enjoying ourselves to-day, are we? Father and stepmotherhave gone away to Tver, and we are free for three whole days!

NINA. [Sits down beside ARKADINA, and embraces her] I am so happy. Ibelong to you now. 

SORIN. [Sits down in his arm-chair] She looks lovely to-day. 

ARKADINA. Yes, she has put on her prettiest dress, and looks sweet. Thatwas nice of you. [She kisses NINA] But we mustn't praise her too much;we shall spoil her. Where is Trigorin?

NINA. He is fishing off the wharf. 

ARKADINA. I wonder he isn't bored. [She begins to read again. ]

NINA. What are you reading?

ARKADINA. "On the Water, " by Maupassant. [She reads a few lines toherself] But the rest is neither true nor interesting. [She lays downthe book] I am uneasy about my son. Tell me, what is the matter withhim? Why is he so dull and depressed lately? He spends all his days onthe lake, and I scarcely ever see him any more. 

MASHA. His heart is heavy. [Timidly, to NINA] Please recite somethingfrom his play. 

NINA. [Shrugging her shoulders] Shall I? Is it so interesting?

MASHA. [With suppressed rapture] When he recites, his eyes shine and hisface grows pale. His voice is beautiful and sad, and he has the ways ofa poet. 

SORIN begins to snore. 

DORN. Pleasant dreams!

ARKADINA. Peter!

SORIN. Eh?

ARKADINA. Are you asleep?

SORIN. Not a bit of it. [A pause. ]

ARKADINA. You don't do a thing for your health, brother, but you reallyought to. 

DORN. The idea of doing anything for one's health at sixty-five!

SORIN. One still wants to live at sixty-five. 

DORN. [Crossly] Ho! Take some camomile tea. 

ARKADINA. I think a journey to some watering-place would be good forhim. 

DORN. Why, yes; he might go as well as not. 

ARKADINA. You don't understand. 

DORN. There is nothing to understand in this case; it is quite clear. 

MEDVIEDENKO. He ought to give up smoking. 

SORIN. What nonsense! [A pause. ]

DORN. No, that is not nonsense. Wine and tobacco destroy theindividuality. After a cigar or a glass of vodka you are no longer PeterSorin, but Peter Sorin plus somebody else. Your ego breaks in two: youbegin to think of yourself in the third person. 

SORIN. It is easy for you to condemn smoking and drinking; you haveknown what life is, but what about me? I have served in the Departmentof Justice for twenty-eight years, but I have never lived, I have neverhad any experiences. You are satiated with life, and that is why youhave an inclination for philosophy, but I want to live, and that is whyI drink my wine for dinner and smoke cigars, and all. 

DORN. One must take life seriously, and to take a cure at sixty-fiveand regret that one did not have more pleasure in youth is, forgive mysaying so, trifling. 

MASHA. It must be lunch-time. [She walks away languidly, with a draggingstep] My foot has gone to sleep. 

DORN. She is going to have a couple of drinks before lunch. 

SORIN. The poor soul is unhappy. 

DORN. That is a trifle, your honour. 

SORIN. You judge her like a man who has obtained all he wants in life. 

ARKADINA. Oh, what could be duller than this dear tedium of the country?The air is hot and still, nobody does anything but sit and philosophiseabout life. It is pleasant, my friends, to sit and listen to you here, but I had rather a thousand times sit alone in the room of a hotellearning a role by heart. 

NINA. [With enthusiasm] You are quite right. I understand how you feel. 

SORIN. Of course it is pleasanter to live in town. One can sit in one'slibrary with a telephone at one's elbow, no one comes in without beingfirst announced by the footman, the streets are full of cabs, and all---

DORN. [Sings]

"Tell her, oh flowers---"

SHAMRAEFF comes in, followed by PAULINA. 

SHAMRAEFF. Here they are. How do you do? [He kisses ARKADINA'S hand andthen NINA'S] I am delighted to see you looking so well. [To ARKADINA] Mywife tells me that you mean to go to town with her to-day. Is that so?

ARKADINA. Yes, that is what I had planned to do. 

SHAMRAEFF. Hm--that is splendid, but how do you intend to get there, madam? We are hauling rye to-day, and all the men are busy. What horseswould you take?

ARKADINA. What horses? How do I know what horses we shall have?

SORIN. Why, we have the carriage horses. 

SHAMRAEFF. The carriage horses! And where am I to find the harness forthem? This is astonishing! My dear madam, I have the greatest respectfor your talents, and would gladly sacrifice ten years of my life foryou, but I cannot let you have any horses to-day. 

ARKADINA. But if I must go to town? What an extraordinary state ofaffairs!

SHAMRAEFF. You do not know, madam, what it is to run a farm. 

ARKADINA. [In a burst of anger] That is an old story! Under thesecircumstances I shall go back to Moscow this very day. Order a carriagefor me from the village, or I shall go to the station on foot. 

SHAMRAEFF. [losing his temper] Under these circumstances I resign myposition. You must find yourself another manager. [He goes out. ]

ARKADINA. It is like this every summer: every summer I am insulted here. I shall never set foot here again. 

She goes out to the left, in the direction of the wharf. In a fewminutes she is seen entering the house, followed by TRIGORIN, whocarries a bucket and fishing-rod. 

SORIN. [Losing his temper] What the deuce did he mean by his impudence?I want all the horses brought here at once!

NINA. [To PAULINA] How could he refuse anything to Madame Arkadina, thefamous actress? Is not every wish, every caprice even, of hers, moreimportant than any farm work? This is incredible. 

PAULINA. [In despair] What can I do about it? Put yourself in my placeand tell me what I can do. 

SORIN. [To NINA] Let us go and find my sister, and all beg her not togo. [He looks in the direction in which SHAMRAEFF went out] That man isinsufferable; a regular tyrant. 

NINA. [Preventing him from getting up] Sit still, sit still, and letus wheel you. [She and MEDVIEDENKO push the chair before them] This isterrible!

SORIN. Yes, yes, it is terrible; but he won't leave. I shall have a talkwith him in a moment. [They go out. Only DORN and PAULINA are left. ]

DORN. How tiresome people are! Your husband deserves to be thrown out ofhere neck and crop, but it will all end by this old granny Sorin and hissister asking the man's pardon. See if it doesn't. 

PAULINA. He has sent the carriage horses into the fields too. Thesemisunderstandings occur every day. If you only knew how they excite me!I am ill; see! I am trembling all over! I cannot endure his rough ways. [Imploringly] Eugene, my darling, my beloved, take me to you. Our timeis short; we are no longer young; let us end deception and concealment, even though it is only at the end of our lives. [A pause. ]

DORN. I am fifty-five years old. It is too late now for me to change myways of living. 

PAULINA. I know that you refuse me because there are other women who arenear to you, and you cannot take everybody. I understand. Excuse me--Isee I am only bothering you. 

NINA is seen near the house picking a bunch of flowers. 

DORN. No, it is all right. 

PAULINA. I am tortured by jealousy. Of course you are a doctor andcannot escape from women. I understand. 

DORN. [TO NINA, who comes toward him] How are things in there?

NINA. Madame Arkadina is crying, and Sorin is having an attack ofasthma. 

DORN. Let us go and give them both some camomile tea. 

NINA. [Hands him the bunch of flowers] Here are some flowers for you. 

DORN. Thank you. [He goes into the house. ]

PAULINA. [Following him] What pretty flowers! [As they reach the houseshe says in a low voice] Give me those flowers! Give them to me!

DORN hands her the flowers; she tears them to pieces and flings themaway. They both go into the house. 

NINA. [Alone] How strange to see a famous actress weeping, and forsuch a trifle! Is it not strange, too, that a famous author should sitfishing all day? He is the idol of the public, the papers are fullof him, his photograph is for sale everywhere, his works have beentranslated into many foreign languages, and yet he is overjoyed if hecatches a couple of minnows. I always thought famous people were distantand proud; I thought they despised the common crowd which exaltsriches and birth, and avenged themselves on it by dazzling it with theinextinguishable honour and glory of their fame. But here I see themweeping and playing cards and flying into passions like everybody else. 

TREPLIEFF comes in without a hat on, carrying a gun and a dead seagull. 

TREPLIEFF. Are you alone here?

NINA. Yes. 

TREPLIEFF lays the sea-gull at her feet. 

NINA. What do you mean by this?

TREPLIEFF. I was base enough to-day to kill this gull. I lay it at yourfeet. 

NINA. What is happening to you? [She picks up the gull and standslooking at it. ]

TREPLIEFF. [After a pause] So shall I soon end my own life. 

NINA. You have changed so that I fail to recognise you. 

TREPLIEFF. Yes, I have changed since the time when I ceased to recogniseyou. You have failed me; your look is cold; you do not like to have menear you. 

NINA. You have grown so irritable lately, and you talk so darkly andsymbolically that you must forgive me if I fail to follow you. I am toosimple to understand you. 

TREPLIEFF. All this began when my play failed so dismally. A woman nevercan forgive failure. I have burnt the manuscript to the last page. Oh, if you could only fathom my unhappiness! Your estrangement is to meterrible, incredible; it is as if I had suddenly waked to find thislake dried up and sunk into the earth. You say you are too simple tounderstand me; but, oh, what is there to understand? You dislikedmy play, you have no faith in my powers, you already think of me ascommonplace and worthless, as many are. [Stamping his foot] How wellI can understand your feelings! And that understanding is to me likea dagger in the brain. May it be accursed, together with my stupidity, which sucks my life-blood like a snake! [He sees TRIGORIN, whoapproaches reading a book] There comes real genius, striding along likeanother Hamlet, and with a book, too. [Mockingly] "Words, words, words. "You feel the warmth of that sun already, you smile, your eyes melt andglow liquid in its rays. I shall not disturb you. [He goes out. ]

TRIGORIN. [Making notes in his book] Takes snuff and drinks vodka;always wears black dresses; is loved by a schoolteacher--

NINA. How do you do?

TRIGORIN. How are you, Miss Nina? Owing to an unforeseen development ofcircumstances, it seems that we are leaving here today. You and I shallprobably never see each other again, and I am sorry for it. I seldommeet a young and pretty girl now; I can hardly remember how it feelsto be nineteen, and the young girls in my books are seldom livingcharacters. I should like to change places with you, if but for an hour, to look out at the world through your eyes, and so find out what sort ofa little person you are. 

NINA. And I should like to change places with you. 

TRIGORIN. Why?

NINA. To find out how a famous genius feels. What is it like to befamous? What sensations does it give you?

TRIGORIN. What sensations? I don't believe it gives any. [Thoughtfully]Either you exaggerate my fame, or else, if it exists, all I can say isthat one simply doesn't feel fame in any way. 

NINA. But when you read about yourself in the papers?

TRIGORIN. If the critics praise me, I am happy; if they condemn me, I amout of sorts for the next two days. 

NINA. This is a wonderful world. If you only knew how I envy you! Menare born to different destinies. Some dully drag a weary, useless lifebehind them, lost in the crowd, unhappy, while to one out of a million, as to you, for instance, comes a bright destiny full of interest andmeaning. You are lucky. 

TRIGORIN. I, lucky? [He shrugs his shoulders] H-m--I hear you talkingabout fame, and happiness, and bright destinies, and those fine words ofyours mean as much to me--forgive my saying so--as sweetmeats do, whichI never eat. You are very young, and very kind. 

NINA. Your life is beautiful. 

TRIGORIN. I see nothing especially lovely about it. [He looks at hiswatch] Excuse me, I must go at once, and begin writing again. I am in ahurry. [He laughs] You have stepped on my pet corn, as they say, and Iam getting excited, and a little cross. Let us discuss this bright andbeautiful life of mine, though. [After a few moments' thought] Violentobsessions sometimes lay hold of a man: he may, for instance, think dayand night of nothing but the moon. I have such a moon. Day and night Iam held in the grip of one besetting thought, to write, write, write!Hardly have I finished one book than something urges me to writeanother, and then a third, and then a fourth--I write ceaselessly. I am, as it were, on a treadmill. I hurry for ever from one story to another, and can't help myself. Do you see anything bright and beautiful in that?Oh, it is a wild life! Even now, thrilled as I am by talking to you, Ido not forget for an instant that an unfinished story is awaiting me. Myeye falls on that cloud there, which has the shape of a grand piano; Iinstantly make a mental note that I must remember to mention in my storya cloud floating by that looked like a grand piano. I smell heliotrope;I mutter to myself: a sickly smell, the colour worn by widows; I mustremember that in writing my next description of a summer evening. Icatch an idea in every sentence of yours or of my own, and hasten tolock all these treasures in my literary store-room, thinking that someday they may be useful to me. As soon as I stop working I rush off tothe theatre or go fishing, in the hope that I may find oblivion there, but no! Some new subject for a story is sure to come rolling through mybrain like an iron cannonball. I hear my desk calling, and have to goback to it and begin to write, write, write, once more. And so itgoes for everlasting. I cannot escape myself, though I feel that I amconsuming my life. To prepare the honey I feed to unknown crowds, I amdoomed to brush the bloom from my dearest flowers, to tear them fromtheir stems, and trample the roots that bore them under foot. Am I nota madman? Should I not be treated by those who know me as one mentallydiseased? Yet it is always the same, same old story, till I begin tothink that all this praise and admiration must be a deception, that I ambeing hoodwinked because they know I am crazy, and I sometimes tremblelest I should be grabbed from behind and whisked off to a lunaticasylum. The best years of my youth were made one continual agony for meby my writing. A young author, especially if at first he does not makea success, feels clumsy, ill-at-ease, and superfluous in the world. Hisnerves are all on edge and stretched to the point of breaking; he isirresistibly attracted to literary and artistic people, and hovers aboutthem unknown and unnoticed, fearing to look them bravely in the eye, like a man with a passion for gambling, whose money is all gone. Idid not know my readers, but for some reason I imagined they weredistrustful and unfriendly; I was mortally afraid of the public, andwhen my first play appeared, it seemed to me as if all the dark eyes inthe audience were looking at it with enmity, and all the blue ones withcold indifference. Oh, how terrible it was! What agony!

NINA. But don't your inspiration and the act of creation give youmoments of lofty happiness?

TRIGORIN. Yes. Writing is a pleasure to me, and so is reading theproofs, but no sooner does a book leave the press than it becomes odiousto me; it is not what I meant it to be; I made a mistake to write it atall; I am provoked and discouraged. Then the public reads it and says:"Yes, it is clever and pretty, but not nearly as good as Tolstoi, " or"It is a lovely thing, but not as good as Turgenieff's 'Fathers andSons, '" and so it will always be. To my dying day I shall hear peoplesay: "Clever and pretty; clever and pretty, " and nothing more; and whenI am gone, those that knew me will say as they pass my grave: "Here liesTrigorin, a clever writer, but he was not as good as Turgenieff. "

NINA. You must excuse me, but I decline to understand what you aretalking about. The fact is, you have been spoilt by your success. 

TRIGORIN. What success have I had? I have never pleased myself; asa writer, I do not like myself at all. The trouble is that I am madegiddy, as it were, by the fumes of my brain, and often hardly know whatI am writing. I love this lake, these trees, the blue heaven; nature'svoice speaks to me and wakes a feeling of passion in my heart, and Iam overcome by an uncontrollable desire to write. But I am not onlya painter of landscapes, I am a man of the city besides. I love mycountry, too, and her people; I feel that, as a writer, it is my duty tospeak of their sorrows, of their future, also of science, of the rightsof man, and so forth. So I write on every subject, and the public houndsme on all sides, sometimes in anger, and I race and dodge like a foxwith a pack of hounds on his trail. I see life and knowledge flittingaway before me. I am left behind them like a peasant who has missed histrain at a station, and finally I come back to the conclusion that allI am fit for is to describe landscapes, and that whatever else I attemptrings abominably false. 

NINA. You work too hard to realise the importance of your writings. Whatif you are discontented with yourself? To others you appear a great andsplendid man. If I were a writer like you I should devote my whole lifeto the service of the Russian people, knowing at the same time thattheir welfare depended on their power to rise to the heights I hadattained, and the people should send me before them in a chariot oftriumph. 

TRIGORIN. In a chariot? Do you think I am Agamemnon? [They both smile. ]

NINA. For the bliss of being a writer or an actress I could endure want, and disillusionment, and the hatred of my friends, and the pangs of myown dissatisfaction with myself; but I should demand in return fame, real, resounding fame! [She covers her face with her hands] Whew! Myhead reels!

THE VOICE OF ARKADINA. [From inside the house] Boris! Boris!

TRIGORIN. She is calling me, probably to come and pack, but I don't wantto leave this place. [His eyes rest on the lake] What a blessing suchbeauty is!

NINA. Do you see that house there, on the far shore?

TRIGORIN. Yes. 

NINA. That was my dead mother's home. I was born there, and have livedall my life beside this lake. I know every little island in it. 

TRIGORIN. This is a beautiful place to live. [He catches sight of thedead sea-gull] What is that?

NINA. A gull. Constantine shot it. 

TRIGORIN. What a lovely bird! Really, I can't bear to go away. Can't youpersuade Irina to stay? [He writes something in his note-book. ]

NINA. What are you writing?

TRIGORIN. Nothing much, only an idea that occurred to me. [He puts thebook back in his pocket] An idea for a short story. A young girl growsup on the shores of a lake, as you have. She loves the lake as the gullsdo, and is as happy and free as they. But a man sees her who chances tocome that way, and he destroys her out of idleness, as this gull herehas been destroyed. [A pause. ARKADINA appears at one of the windows. ]

ARKADINA. Boris! Where are you?

TRIGORIN. I am coming this minute. 

He goes toward the house, looking back at NINA. ARKADINA remains at thewindow. 

TRIGORIN. What do you want?

ARKADINA. We are not going away, after all. 

TRIGORIN goes into the house. NINA comes forward and stands lost inthought. 

NINA. It is a dream!

The curtain falls. 

ACT III

_The dining-room of SORIN'S house. Doors open out of it to the rightand left. A table stands in the centre of the room. Trunks and boxesencumber the floor, and preparations for departure are evident. TRIGORINis sitting at a table eating his breakfast, and MASHA is standing besidehim_. 

MASHA. I am telling you all these things because you write books andthey may be useful to you. I tell you honestly, I should not have livedanother day if he had wounded himself fatally. Yet I am courageous; Ihave decided to tear this love of mine out of my heart by the roots. 

TRIGORIN. How will you do it?

MASHA. By marrying Medviedenko. 

TRIGORIN. The school-teacher?

MASHA. Yes. 

TRIGORIN. I don't see the necessity for that. 

MASHA. Oh, if you knew what it is to love without hope for years andyears, to wait for ever for something that will never come! I shall notmarry for love, but marriage will at least be a change, and will bringnew cares to deaden the memories of the past. Shall we have anotherdrink?

TRIGORIN. Haven't you had enough?

MASHA. Fiddlesticks! [She fills a glass] Don't look at me with thatexpression on your face. Women drink oftener than you imagine, but mostof them do it in secret, and not openly, as I do. They do indeed, andit is always either vodka or brandy. [They touch glasses] To your goodhealth! You are so easy to get on with that I am sorry to see you go. [They drink. ]

TRIGORIN. And I am sorry to leave. 

MASHA. You should ask her to stay. 

TRIGORIN. She would not do that now. Her son has been behavingoutrageously. First he attempted suicide, and now I hear he is goingto challenge me to a duel, though what his provocation may be I can'timagine. He is always sulking and sneering and preaching about a newform of art, as if the field of art were not large enough to accommodateboth old and new without the necessity of jostling. 

MASHA. It is jealousy. However, that is none of my business. [A pause. JACOB walks through the room carrying a trunk; NINA comes in and standsby the window] That schoolteacher of mine is none too clever, but heis very good, poor man, and he loves me dearly, and I am sorry for him. However, let me say good-bye and wish you a pleasant journey. Rememberme kindly in your thoughts. [She shakes hands with him] Thanks for yourgoodwill. Send me your books, and be sure to write something in them;nothing formal, but simply this: "To Masha, who, forgetful of herorigin, for some unknown reason is living in this world. " Good-bye. [Shegoes out. ]

NINA. [Holding out her closed hand to TRIGORIN] Is it odd or even?

TRIGORIN. Even. 

NINA. [With a sigh] No, it is odd. I had only one pea in my hand. Iwanted to see whether I was to become an actress or not. If only someone would advise me what to do!

TRIGORIN. One cannot give advice in a case like this. [A pause. ]

NINA. We shall soon part, perhaps never to meet again. I should like youto accept this little medallion as a remembrance of me. I have had yourinitials engraved on it, and on this side is the name of one of yourbooks: "Days and Nights. "

TRIGORIN. How sweet of you! [He kisses the medallion] It is a lovelypresent. 

NINA. Think of me sometimes. 

TRIGORIN. I shall never forget you. I shall always remember you as I sawyou that bright day--do you recall it?--a week ago, when you wore yourlight dress, and we talked together, and the white seagull lay on thebench beside us. 

NINA. [Lost in thought] Yes, the sea-gull. [A pause] I beg you to let mesee you alone for two minutes before you go. 

She goes out to the left. At the same moment ARKADINA comes in from theright, followed by SORIN in a long coat, with his orders on his breast, and by JACOB, who is busy packing. 

ARKADINA. Stay here at home, you poor old man. How could you pay visitswith that rheumatism of yours? [To TRIGORIN] Who left the room just now, was it Nina?

TRIGORIN. Yes. 

ARKADINA. I beg your pardon; I am afraid we interrupted you. [She sitsdown] I think everything is packed. I am absolutely exhausted. 

TRIGORIN. [Reading the inscription on the medallion] "Days and Nights, page 121, lines 11 and 12. "

JACOB. [Clearing the table] Shall I pack your fishing-rods, too, sir?

TRIGORIN. Yes, I shall need them, but you can give my books away. 

JACOB. Very well, sir. 

TRIGORIN. [To himself] Page 121, lines 11 and 12. [To ARKADINA] Have wemy books here in the house?

ARKADINA. Yes, they are in my brother's library, in the corner cupboard. 

TRIGORIN. Page 121--[He goes out. ]

SORIN. You are going away, and I shall be lonely without you. 

ARKADINA. What would you do in town?

SORIN. Oh, nothing in particular, but somehow--[He laughs] They are soonto lay the corner-stone of the new court-house here. How I should liketo leap out of this minnow-pond, if but for an hour or two! I am tiredof lying here like an old cigarette stump. I have ordered the carriagefor one o'clock. We can go away together. 

ARKADINA. [After a pause] No, you must stay here. Don't be lonely, anddon't catch cold. Keep an eye on my boy. Take good care of him; guidehim along the proper paths. [A pause] I am going away, and so shallnever find out why Constantine shot himself, but I think the chiefreason was jealousy, and the sooner I take Trigorin away, the better. 

SORIN. There were--how shall I explain it to you?--other reasons besidesjealousy for his act. Here is a clever young chap living in the depthsof the country, without money or position, with no future ahead of him, and with nothing to do. He is ashamed and afraid of being so idle. I amdevoted to him and he is fond of me, but nevertheless he feels that heis useless here, that he is little more than a dependent in this house. It is the pride in him. 

ARKADINA. He is a misery to me! [Thoughtfully] He might possibly enterthe army. 

SORIN. [Gives a whistle, and then speaks with hesitation] It seems tome that the best thing for him would be if you were to let him havea little money. For one thing, he ought to be allowed to dress like ahuman being. See how he looks! Wearing the same little old coat thathe has had for three years, and he doesn't even possess an overcoat![Laughing] And it wouldn't hurt the youngster to sow a few wild oats;let him go abroad, say, for a time. It wouldn't cost much. 

ARKADINA. Yes, but--However, I think I might manage about his clothes, but I couldn't let him go abroad. And no, I don't think I can let himhave his clothes even, now. [Decidedly] I have no money at present. 

SORIN laughs. 

ARKADINA. I haven't indeed. 

SORIN. [Whistles] Very well. Forgive me, darling; don't be angry. Youare a noble, generous woman!

ARKADINA. [Weeping] I really haven't the money. 

SORIN. If I had any money of course I should let him have some myself, but I haven't even a penny. The farm manager takes my pension from meand puts it all into the farm or into cattle or bees, and in that way itis always lost for ever. The bees die, the cows die, they never let mehave a horse. 

ARKADINA. Of course I have some money, but I am an actress and myexpenses for dress alone are enough to bankrupt me. 

SORIN. You are a dear, and I am very fond of you, indeed I am. Butsomething is the matter with me again. [He staggers] I feel giddy. [Heleans against the table] I feel faint, and all. 

ARKADINA. [Frightened ] Peter! [She tries to support him] Peter!dearest! [She calls] Help! Help!

TREPLIEFF and MEDVIEDENKO come in; TREPLIEFF has a bandage around hishead. 

ARKADINA. He is fainting!

SORIN. I am all right. [He smiles and drinks some water] It is all overnow. 

TREPLIEFF. [To his mother] Don't be frightened, mother, these attacksare not dangerous; my uncle often has them now. [To his uncle] You mustgo and lie down, Uncle. 

SORIN. Yes, I think I shall, for a few minutes. I am going to Moscowall the same, but I shall lie down a bit before I start. [He goes outleaning on his cane. ]

MEDVIEDENKO. [Giving him his arm] Do you know this riddle? On four legsin the morning; on two legs at noon; and on three legs in the evening?

SORIN. [Laughing] Yes, exactly, and on one's back at night. Thank you, Ican walk alone. 

MEDVIEDENKO. Dear me, what formality! [He and SORIN go out. ]

ARKADINA. He gave me a dreadful fright. 

TREPLIEFF. It is not good for him to live in the country. Mother, if youwould only untie your purse-strings for once, and lend him a thousandroubles! He could then spend a whole year in town. 

ARKADINA. I have no money. I am an actress and not a banker. [A pause. ]

TREPLIEFF. Please change my bandage for me, mother, you do it so gently. 

ARKADINA goes to the cupboard and takes out a box of bandages and abottle of iodoform. 

ARKADINA. The doctor is late. 

TREPLIEFF. Yes, he promised to be here at nine, and now it is noonalready. 

ARKADINA. Sit down. [She takes the bandage off his head] You look as ifyou had a turban on. A stranger that was in the kitchen yesterday askedto what nationality you belonged. Your wound is almost healed. [Shekisses his head] You won't be up to any more of these silly tricksagain, will you, when I am gone?

TREPLIEFF. No, mother. I did that in a moment of insane despair, when Ihad lost all control over myself. It will never happen again. [He kissesher hand] Your touch is golden. I remember when you were still acting atthe State Theatre, long ago, when I was still a little chap, there was afight one day in our court, and a poor washerwoman was almost beaten todeath. She was picked up unconscious, and you nursed her till she waswell, and bathed her children in the washtubs. Have you forgotten it?

ARKADINA. Yes, entirely. [She puts on a new bandage. ]

TREPLIEFF. Two ballet dancers lived in the same house, and they used tocome and drink coffee with you. 

ARKADINA. I remember that. 

TREPLIEFF. They were very pious. [A pause] I love you again, these lastfew days, as tenderly and trustingly as I did as a child. I have no oneleft me now but you. Why, why do you let yourself be controlled by thatman?

ARKADINA. You don't understand him, Constantine. He has a wonderfullynoble personality. 

TREPLIEFF. Nevertheless, when he has been told that I wish to challengehim to a duel his nobility does not prevent him from playing the coward. He is about to beat an ignominious retreat. 

ARKADINA. What nonsense! I have asked him myself to go. 

TREPLIEFF. A noble personality indeed! Here we are almost quarrellingover him, and he is probably in the garden laughing at us at this verymoment, or else enlightening Nina's mind and trying to persuade her intothinking him a man of genius. 

ARKADINA. You enjoy saying unpleasant things to me. I have the greatestrespect for that man, and I must ask you not to speak ill of him in mypresence. 

TREPLIEFF. I have no respect for him at all. You want me to think him agenius, as you do, but I refuse to lie: his books make me sick. 

ARKADINA. You envy him. There is nothing left for people with no talentand mighty pretensions to do but to criticise those who are reallygifted. I hope you enjoy the consolation it brings. 

TREPLIEFF. [With irony] Those who are really gifted, indeed! [Angrily] Iam cleverer than any of you, if it comes to that! [He tears the bandageoff his head] You are the slaves of convention, you have seized theupper hand and now lay down as law everything that you do; all else youstrangle and trample on. I refuse to accept your point of view, yoursand his, I refuse!

ARKADINA. That is the talk of a decadent. 

TREPLIEFF. Go back to your beloved stage and act the miserableditch-water plays you so much admire!

ARKADINA. I never acted in a play like that in my life. You couldn'twrite even the trashiest music-hall farce, you idle good-for-nothing!

TREPLIEFF. Miser!

ARKADINA. Rag-bag!

TREPLIEFF sits down and begins to cry softly. 

ARKADINA. [Walking up and down in great excitement] Don't cry! Youmustn't cry! [She bursts into tears] You really mustn't. [She kisses hisforehead, his cheeks, his head] My darling child, forgive me. Forgiveyour wicked mother. 

TREPLIEFF. [Embracing her] Oh, if you could only know what it is to havelost everything under heaven! She does not love me. I see I shall neverbe able to write. Every hope has deserted me. 

ARKADINA. Don't despair. This will all pass. He is going away to-day, and she will love you once more. [She wipes away his tears] Stop crying. We have made peace again. 

TREPLIEFF. [Kissing her hand] Yes, mother. 

ARKADINA. [Tenderly] Make your peace with him, too. Don't fight withhim. You surely won't fight?

TREPLIEFF. I won't, but you must not insist on my seeing him again, mother, I couldn't stand it. [TRIGORIN comes in] There he is; I amgoing. [He quickly puts the medicines away in the cupboard] The doctorwill attend to my head. 

TRIGORIN. [Looking through the pages of a book] Page 121, lines 11 and12; here it is. [He reads] "If at any time you should have need of mylife, come and take it. "

TREPLIEFF picks up the bandage off the floor and goes out. 

ARKADINA. [Looking at her watch] The carriage will soon be here. 

TRIGORIN. [To himself] If at any time you should have need of my life, come and take it. 

ARKADINA. I hope your things are all packed. 

TRIGORIN. [Impatiently] Yes, yes. [In deep thought] Why do I hear a noteof sadness that wrings my heart in this cry of a pure soul? If at anytime you should have need of my life, come and take it. [To ARKADINA]Let us stay here one more day!

ARKADINA shakes her head. 

TRIGORIN. Do let us stay!

ARKADINA. I know, dearest, what keeps you here, but you must controlyourself. Be sober; your emotions have intoxicated you a little. 

TRIGORIN. You must be sober, too. Be sensible; look upon what hashappened as a true friend would. [Taking her hand] You are capable ofself-sacrifice. Be a friend to me and release me!

ARKADINA. [In deep excitement] Are you so much in love?

TRIGORIN. I am irresistibly impelled toward her. It may be that this isjust what I need. 

ARKADINA. What, the love of a country girl? Oh, how little you knowyourself!

TRIGORIN. People sometimes walk in their sleep, and so I feel as ifI were asleep, and dreaming of her as I stand here talking to you. Myimagination is shaken by the sweetest and most glorious visions. Releaseme!

ARKADINA. [Shuddering] No, no! I am only an ordinary woman; you must notsay such things to me. Do not torment me, Boris; you frighten me. 

TRIGORIN. You could be an extraordinary woman if you only would. Lovealone can bring happiness on earth, love the enchanting, the poeticallove of youth, that sweeps away the sorrows of the world. I had no timefor it when I was young and struggling with want and laying siege to theliterary fortress, but now at last this love has come to me. I see itbeckoning; why should I fly?

ARKADINA. [With anger] You are mad!

TRIGORIN. Release me. 

ARKADINA. You have all conspired together to torture me to-day. [Sheweeps. ]

TRIGORIN. [Clutching his head desperately] She doesn't understand me!She won't understand me!

ARKADINA. Am I then so old and ugly already that you can talk to me likethis without any shame about another woman? [She embraces and kisseshim] Oh, you have lost your senses! My splendid, my glorious friend, mylove for you is the last chapter of my life. [She falls on her knees]You are my pride, my joy, my light. [She embraces his knees] I couldnever endure it should you desert me, if only for an hour; I should gomad. Oh, my wonder, my marvel, my king!

TRIGORIN. Some one might come in. [He helps her to rise. ]

ARKADINA. Let them come! I am not ashamed of my love. [She kisses hishands] My jewel! My despair! You want to do a foolish thing, but I don'twant you to do it. I shan't let you do it! [She laughs] You are mine, you are mine! This forehead is mine, these eyes are mine, this silkyhair is mine. All your being is mine. You are so clever, so wise, thefirst of all living writers; you are the only hope of your country. Youare so fresh, so simple, so deeply humourous. You can bring out everyfeature of a man or of a landscape in a single line, and your characterslive and breathe. Do you think that these words are but the incense offlattery? Do you think I am not speaking the truth? Come, look into myeyes; look deep; do you find lies there? No, you see that I alone knowhow to treasure you. I alone tell you the truth. Oh, my very dear, youwill go with me? You will? You will not forsake me?

TRIGORIN. I have no will of my own; I never had. I am too indolent, toosubmissive, too phlegmatic, to have any. Is it possible that women likethat? Take me. Take me away with you, but do not let me stir a step fromyour side. 

ARKADINA. [To herself] Now he is mine! [Carelessly, as if nothingunusual had happened] Of course you must stay here if you really wantto. I shall go, and you can follow in a week's time. Yes, really, whyshould you hurry away?

TRIGORIN. Let us go together. 

ARKADINA. As you like. Let us go together then. [A pause. TRIGORINwrites something in his note-book] What are you writing?

TRIGORIN. A happy expression I heard this morning: "A grove of maidenpines. " It may be useful. [He yawns] So we are really off again, condemned once more to railway carriages, to stations and restaurants, to Hamburger steaks and endless arguments!

SHAMRAEFF comes in. 

SHAMRAEFF. I am sorry to have to inform you that your carriage is at thedoor. It is time to start, honoured madam, the train leaves at two-five. Would you be kind enough, madam, to remember to inquire for me whereSuzdaltzeff the actor is now? Is he still alive, I wonder? Is he well?He and I have had many a jolly time together. He was inimitable in "TheStolen Mail. " A tragedian called Izmailoff was in the same company, Iremember, who was also quite remarkable. Don't hurry, madam, you stillhave five minutes. They were both of them conspirators once, in thesame melodrama, and one night when in the course of the play they weresuddenly discovered, instead of saying "We have been trapped!" Izmailoffcried out: "We have been rapped!" [He laughs] Rapped!

While he has been talking JACOB has been busy with the trunks, and themaid has brought ARKADINA her hat, coat, parasol, and gloves. The cooklooks hesitatingly through the door on the right, and finally comes intothe room. PAULINA comes in. MEDVIEDENKO comes in. 

PAULINA. [Presenting ARKADINA with a little basket] Here are someplums for the journey. They are very sweet ones. You may want to nibblesomething good on the way. 

ARKADINA. You are very kind, Paulina. 

PAULINA. Good-bye, my dearie. If things have not been quite as you couldhave wished, please forgive us. [She weeps. ]

ARKADINA. It has been delightful, delightful. You mustn't cry. 

SORIN comes in through the door on the left, dressed in a long coat witha cape, and carrying his hat and cane. He crosses the room. 

SORIN. Come, sister, it is time to start, unless you want to miss thetrain. I am going to get into the carriage. [He goes out. ]

MEDVIEDENKO. I shall walk quickly to the station and see you off there. [He goes out. ]

ARKADINA. Good-bye, all! We shall meet again next summer if we live. [The maid servant, JACOB, and the cook kiss her hand] Don't forget me. [She gives the cook a rouble] There is a rouble for all three of you. 

THE COOK. Thank you, mistress; a pleasant journey to you. 

JACOB. God bless you, mistress. 

SHAMRAEFF. Send us a line to cheer us up. [TO TRIGORIN] Good-bye, sir. 

ARKADINA. Where is Constantine? Tell him I am starting. I must saygood-bye to him. [To JACOB] I gave the cook a rouble for all three ofyou. 

All go out through the door on the right. The stage remains empty. Sounds of farewell are heard. The maid comes running back to fetch thebasket of plums which has been forgotten. TRIGORIN comes back. 

TRIGORIN. I had forgotten my cane. I think I left it on the terrace. [Hegoes toward the door on the right and meets NINA, who comes in at thatmoment] Is that you? We are off. 

NINA. I knew we should meet again. [With emotion] I have come to anirrevocable decision, the die is cast: I am going on the stage. I amdeserting my father and abandoning everything. I am beginning life anew. I am going, as you are, to Moscow. We shall meet there. 

TRIGORIN. [Glancing about him] Go to the Hotel Slavianski Bazar. Letme know as soon as you get there. I shall be at the Grosholski House inMoltchanofka Street. I must go now. [A pause. ]

NINA. Just one more minute!

TRIGORIN. [In a low voice] You are so beautiful! What bliss to thinkthat I shall see you again so soon! [She sinks on his breast] I shallsee those glorious eyes again, that wonderful, ineffably tender smile, those gentle features with their expression of angelic purity! Mydarling! [A prolonged kiss. ]

The curtain falls. 

Two years elapse between the third and fourth acts. 

ACT IV

_A sitting-room in SORIN'S house, which has been converted into awriting-room for TREPLIEFF. To the right and left are doors leading intoinner rooms, and in the centre is a glass door opening onto a terrace. Besides the usual furniture of a sitting-room there is a writing-deskin the right-hand corner of the room. There is a Turkish divan near thedoor on the left, and shelves full of books stand against the walls. Books are lying scattered about on the windowsills and chairs. It isevening. The room is dimly lighted by a shaded lamp on a table. The windmoans in the tree tops and whistles down the chimney. The watchman inthe garden is heard sounding his rattle. MEDVIEDENKO and MASHA come in_. 

MASHA. [Calling TREPLIEFF] Mr. Constantine, where are you? [Lookingabout her] There is no one here. His old uncle is forever asking forConstantine, and can't live without him for an instant. 

MEDVIEDENKO. He dreads being left alone. [Listening to the wind] This isa wild night. We have had this storm for two days. 

MASHA. [Turning up the lamp] The waves on the lake are enormous. 

MEDVIEDENKO. It is very dark in the garden. Do you know, I think thatold theatre ought to be knocked down. It is still standing there, nakedand hideous as a skeleton, with the curtain flapping in the wind. Ithought I heard a voice weeping in it as I passed there last night. 

MASHA. What an idea! [A pause. ]

MEDVIEDENKO. Come home with me, Masha. 

MASHA. [Shaking her head] I shall spend the night here. 

MEDVIEDENKO. [Imploringly] Do come, Masha. The baby must be hungry. 

MASHA. Nonsense, Matriona will feed it. [A pause. ]

MEDVIEDENKO. It is a pity to leave him three nights without his mother. 

MASHA. You are getting too tiresome. You used sometimes to talk of otherthings besides home and the baby, home and the baby. That is all I everhear from you now. 

MEDVIEDENKO. Come home, Masha. 

MASHA. You can go home if you want to. 

MEDVIEDENKO. Your father won't give me a horse. 

MASHA. Yes, he will; ask him. 

MEDVIEDENKO. I think I shall. Are you coming home to-morrow?

MASHA. Yes, yes, to-morrow. 

She takes snuff. TREPLIEFF and PAULINA come in. TREPLIEFF is carryingsome pillows and a blanket, and PAULINA is carrying sheets and pillowcases. They lay them on the divan, and TREPLIEFF goes and sits down athis desk. 

MASHA. Who is that for, mother?

PAULINA. Mr. Sorin asked to sleep in Constantine's room to-night. 

MASHA. Let me make the bed. 

She makes the bed. PAULINA goes up to the desk and looks at themanuscripts lying on it. [A pause. ]

MEDVIEDENKO. Well, I am going. Good-bye, Masha. [He kisses his wife'shand] Good-bye, mother. [He tries to kiss his mother-in-law's hand. ]

PAULINA. [Crossly] Be off, in God's name!

TREPLIEFF shakes hands with him in silence, and MEDVIEDENKO goes out. 

PAULINA. [Looking at the manuscripts] No one ever dreamed, Constantine, that you would one day turn into a real author. The magazines pay youwell for your stories. [She strokes his hair. ] You have grown handsome, too. Dear, kind Constantine, be a little nicer to my Masha. 

MASHA. [Still making the bed] Leave him alone, mother. 

PAULINA. She is a sweet child. [A pause] A woman, Constantine, asks onlyfor kind looks. I know that from experience. 

TREPLIEFF gets up from his desk and goes out without a word. 

MASHA. There now! You have vexed him. I told you not to bother him. 

PAULINA. I am sorry for you, Masha. 

MASHA. Much I need your pity!

PAULINA. My heart aches for you. I see how things are, and understand. 

MASHA. You see what doesn't exist. Hopeless love is only found innovels. It is a trifle; all one has to do is to keep a tight rein ononeself, and keep one's head clear. Love must be plucked out the momentit springs up in the heart. My husband has been promised a school inanother district, and when we have once left this place I shall forgetit all. I shall tear my passion out by the roots. [The notes of amelancholy waltz are heard in the distance. ]

PAULINA. Constantine is playing. That means he is sad. 

MASHA silently waltzes a few turns to the music. 

MASHA. The great thing, mother, is not to have him continually in sight. If my Simon could only get his remove I should forget it all in a monthor two. It is a trifle. 

DORN and MEDVIEDENKO come in through the door on the left, wheelingSORIN in an arm-chair. 

MEDVIEDENKO. I have six mouths to feed now, and flour is at seventykopecks. 

DORN. A hard riddle to solve!

MEDVIEDENKO. It is easy for you to make light of it. You are rich enoughto scatter money to your chickens, if you wanted to. 

DORN. You think I am rich? My friend, after practising for thirty years, during which I could not call my soul my own for one minute of the nightor day, I succeeded at last in scraping together one thousand roubles, all of which went, not long ago, in a trip which I took abroad. Ihaven't a penny. 

MASHA. [To her husband] So you didn't go home after all?

MEDVIEDENKO. [Apologetically] How can I go home when they won't give mea horse?

MASHA. [Under her breath, with bitter anger] Would I might never seeyour face again!

SORIN in his chair is wheeled to the left-hand side of the room. PAULINA, MASHA, and DORN sit down beside him. MEDVIEDENKO stands sadlyaside. 

DORN. What a lot of changes you have made here! You have turned thissitting-room into a library. 

MASHA. Constantine likes to work in this room, because from it he canstep out into the garden to meditate whenever he feels like it. [Thewatchman's rattle is heard. ]

SORIN. Where is my sister?

DORN. She has gone to the station to meet Trigorin. She will soon beback. 

SORIN. I must be dangerously ill if you had to send for my sister. [He falls silent for a moment] A nice business this is! Here I amdangerously ill, and you won't even give me any medicine. 

DORN. What shall I prescribe for you? Camomile tea? Soda? Quinine?

SORIN. Don't inflict any of your discussions on me again. [He nodstoward the sofa] Is that bed for me?

PAULINA. Yes, for you, sir. 

SORIN. Thank you. 

DORN. [Sings] "The moon swims in the sky to-night. "

SORIN. I am going to give Constantine an idea for a story. It shall becalled "The Man Who Wished--L'Homme qui a voulu. " When I was young, Iwished to become an author; I failed. I wished to be an orator; I speakabominably, [Exciting himself] with my eternal "and all, and all, "dragging each sentence on and on until I sometimes break out into asweat all over. I wished to marry, and I didn't; I wished to live in thecity, and here I am ending my days in the country, and all. 

DORN. You wished to become State Councillor, and--you are one!

SORIN. [Laughing] I didn't try for that, it came of its own accord. 

DORN. Come, you must admit that it is petty to cavil at life atsixty-two years of age. 

SORIN. You are pig-headed! Can't you see I want to live?

DORN. That is futile. Nature has commanded that every life shall come toan end. 

SORIN. You speak like a man who is satiated with life. Your thirst forit is quenched, and so you are calm and indifferent, but even you dreaddeath. 

DORN. The fear of death is an animal passion which must be overcome. Only those who believe in a future life and tremble for sins committed, can logically fear death; but you, for one thing, don't believe in afuture life, and for another, you haven't committed any sins. You haveserved as a Councillor for twenty-five years, that is all. 

SORIN. [Laughing] Twenty-eight years!

TREPLIEFF comes in and sits down on a stool at SORIN'S feet. MASHA fixesher eyes on his face and never once tears them away. 

DORN. We are keeping Constantine from his work. 

TREPLIEFF. No matter. [A pause. ]

MEDVIEDENKO. Of all the cities you visited when you were abroad, Doctor, which one did you like the best?

DORN. Genoa. 

TREPLIEFF. Why Genoa?

DORN. Because there is such a splendid crowd in its streets. When youleave the hotel in the evening, and throw yourself into the heart ofthat throng, and move with it without aim or object, swept along, hitherand thither, their life seems to be yours, their soul flows into you, and you begin to believe at last in a great world spirit, like the onein your play that Nina Zarietchnaya acted. By the way, where is Ninanow? Is she well?

TREPLIEFF. I believe so. 

DORN. I hear she has led rather a strange life; what happened?

TREPLIEFF. It is a long story, Doctor. 

DORN. Tell it shortly. [A pause. ]

TREPLIEFF. She ran away from home and joined Trigorin; you know that?

DORN. Yes. 

TREPLIEFF. She had a child that died. Trigorin soon tired of her andreturned to his former ties, as might have been expected. He hadnever broken them, indeed, but out of weakness of character had alwaysvacillated between the two. As far as I can make out from what I haveheard, Nina's domestic life has not been altogether a success. 

DORN. What about her acting?

TREPLIEFF. I believe she made an even worse failure of that. She madeher debut on the stage of the Summer Theatre in Moscow, and afterwardmade a tour of the country towns. At that time I never let her out of mysight, and wherever she went I followed. She always attempted greatand difficult parts, but her delivery was harsh and monotonous, and hergestures heavy and crude. She shrieked and died well at times, but thosewere but moments. 

DORN. Then she really has a talent for acting?

TREPLIEFF. I never could make out. I believe she has. I saw her, but sherefused to see me, and her servant would never admit me to her rooms. Iappreciated her feelings, and did not insist upon a meeting. [A pause]What more can I tell you? She sometimes writes to me now that I havecome home, such clever, sympathetic letters, full of warm feeling. Shenever complains, but I can tell that she is profoundly unhappy; not aline but speaks to me of an aching, breaking nerve. She has one strangefancy; she always signs herself "The Sea-gull. " The miller in "Rusalka"called himself "The Crow, " and so she repeats in all her letters thatshe is a sea-gull. She is here now. 

DORN. What do you mean by "here?"

TREPLIEFF. In the village, at the inn. She has been there for five days. I should have gone to see her, but Masha here went, and she refuses tosee any one. Some one told me she had been seen wandering in the fieldsa mile from here yesterday evening. 

MEDVIEDENKO. Yes, I saw her. She was walking away from here in thedirection of the village. I asked her why she had not been to see us. She said she would come. 

TREPLIEFF. But she won't. [A pause] Her father and stepmother havedisowned her. They have even put watchmen all around their estate tokeep her away. [He goes with the doctor toward the desk] How easy it is, Doctor, to be a philosopher on paper, and how difficult in real life!

SORIN. She was a beautiful girl. Even the State Councillor himself wasin love with her for a time. 

DORN. You old Lovelace, you!

SHAMRAEFF'S laugh is heard. 

PAULINA. They are coming back from the station. 

TREPLIEFF. Yes, I hear my mother's voice. 

ARKADINA and TRIGORIN come in, followed by SHAMRAEFF. 

SHAMRAEFF. We all grow old and wither, my lady, while you alone, withyour light dress, your gay spirits, and your grace, keep the secret ofeternal youth. 

ARKADINA. You are still trying to turn my head, you tiresome old man. 

TRIGORIN. [To SORIN] How do you do, Peter? What, still ill? How silly ofyou! [With evident pleasure, as he catches sight of MASHA] How are you, Miss Masha?

MASHA. So you recognised me? [She shakes hands with him. ]

TRIGORIN. Did you marry him?

MASHA. Long ago. 

TRIGORIN. You are happy now? [He bows to DORN and MEDVIEDENKO, and thengoes hesitatingly toward TREPLIEFF] Your mother says you have forgottenthe past and are no longer angry with me. 

TREPLIEFF gives him his hand. 

ARKADINA. [To her son] Here is a magazine that Boris has brought youwith your latest story in it. 

TREPLIEFF. [To TRIGORIN, as he takes the magazine] Many thanks; you arevery kind. 

TRIGORIN. Your admirers all send you their regards. Every one in Moscowand St. Petersburg is interested in you, and all ply me with questionsabout you. They ask me what you look like, how old you are, whether youare fair or dark. For some reason they all think that you are no longeryoung, and no one knows who you are, as you always write under anassumed name. You are as great a mystery as the Man in the Iron Mask. 

TREPLIEFF. Do you expect to be here long?

TRIGORIN. No, I must go back to Moscow to-morrow. I am finishing anothernovel, and have promised something to a magazine besides. In fact, it isthe same old business. 

During their conversation ARKADINA and PAULINA have put up a card-tablein the centre of the room; SHAMRAEFF lights the candles and arranges thechairs, then fetches a box of lotto from the cupboard. 

TRIGORIN. The weather has given me a rough welcome. The wind isfrightful. If it goes down by morning I shall go fishing in thelake, and shall have a look at the garden and the spot--do youremember?--where your play was given. I remember the piece very well, but should like to see again where the scene was laid. 

MASHA. [To her father] Father, do please let my husband have a horse. Heought to go home. 

SHAMRAEFF. [Angrily] A horse to go home with! [Sternly] You know thehorses have just been to the station. I can't send them out again. 

MASHA. But there are other horses. [Seeing that her father remainssilent] You are impossible!

MEDVIEDENKO. I shall go on foot, Masha. 

PAULINA. [With a sigh] On foot in this weather? [She takes a seat at thecard-table] Shall we begin?

MEDVIEDENKO. It is only six miles. Good-bye. [He kisses his wife'shand;] Good-bye, mother. [His mother-in-law gives him her handunwillingly] I should not have troubled you all, but the baby--[He bowsto every one] Good-bye. [He goes out with an apologetic air. ]

SHAMRAEFF. He will get there all right, he is not a major-general. 

PAULINA. Come, let us begin. Don't let us waste time, we shall soon becalled to supper. 

SHAMRAEFF, MASHA, and DORN sit down at the card-table. 

ARKADINA. [To TRIGORIN] When the long autumn evenings descend on us wewhile away the time here by playing lotto. Look at this old set; we usedit when our mother played with us as children. Don't you want to take ahand in the game with us until supper time? [She and TRIGORIN sit downat the table] It is a monotonous game, but it is all right when one getsused to it. [She deals three cards to each of the players. ]

TREPLIEFF. [Looking through the pages of the magazine] He has read hisown story, and hasn't even cut the pages of mine. 

He lays the magazine on his desk and goes toward the door on the right, stopping as he passes his mother to give her a kiss. 

ARKADINA. Won't you play, Constantine?

TREPLIEFF. No, excuse me please, I don't feel like it. I am going totake a turn through the rooms. [He goes out. ]

MASHA. Are you all ready? I shall begin: twenty-two. 

ARKADINA. Here it is. 

MASHA. Three. 

DORN. Right. 

MASHA. Have you put down three? Eight. Eighty-one. Ten. 

SHAMRAEFF. Don't go so fast. 

ARKADINA. Could you believe it? I am still dazed by the reception theygave me in Kharkoff. 

MASHA. Thirty-four. [The notes of a melancholy waltz are heard. ]

ARKADINA. The students gave me an ovation; they sent me three baskets offlowers, a wreath, and this thing here. 

She unclasps a brooch from her breast and lays it on the table. 

SHAMRAEFF. There is something worth while!

MASHA. Fifty. 

DORN. Fifty, did you say?

ARKADINA. I wore a perfectly magnificent dress; I am no fool when itcomes to clothes. 

PAULINA. Constantine is playing again; the poor boy is sad. 

SHAMRAEFF. He has been severely criticised in the papers. 

MASHA. Seventy-seven. 

ARKADINA. They want to attract attention to him. 

TRIGORIN. He doesn't seem able to make a success, he can't somehowstrike the right note. There is an odd vagueness about his writingsthat sometimes verges on delirium. He has never created a single livingcharacter. 

MASHA. Eleven. 

ARKADINA. Are you bored, Peter? [A pause] He is asleep. 

DORN. The Councillor is taking a nap. 

MASHA. Seven. Ninety. 

TRIGORIN. Do you think I should write if I lived in such a place asthis, on the shore of this lake? Never! I should overcome my passion, and give my life up to the catching of fish. 

MASHA. Twenty-eight. 

TRIGORIN. And if I caught a perch or a bass, what bliss it would be!

DORN. I have great faith in Constantine. I know there is something inhim. He thinks in images; his stories are vivid and full of colour, and always affect me deeply. It is only a pity that he has no definiteobject in view. He creates impressions, and nothing more, and one cannotgo far on impressions alone. Are you glad, madam, that you have anauthor for a son?

ARKADINA. Just think, I have never read anything of his; I never havetime. 

MASHA. Twenty-six. 

TREPLIEFF comes in quietly and sits down at his table. 

SHAMRAEFF. [To TRIGORIN] We have something here that belongs to you, sir. 

TRIGORIN. What is it?

SHAMRAEFF. You told me to have the sea-gull stuffed that Mr. Constantinekilled some time ago. 

TRIGORIN. Did I? [Thoughtfully] I don't remember. 

MASHA. Sixty-one. One. 

TREPLIEFF throws open the window and stands listening. 

TREPLIEFF. How dark the night is! I wonder what makes me so restless. 

ARKADINA. Shut the window, Constantine, there is a draught here. 

TREPLIEFF shuts the window. 

MASHA. Ninety-eight. 

TRIGORIN. See, my card is full. 

ARKADINA. [Gaily] Bravo! Bravo!

SHAMRAEFF. Bravo!

ARKADINA. Wherever he goes and whatever he does, that man always hasgood luck. [She gets up] And now, come to supper. Our renowned guest didnot have any dinner to-day. We can continue our game later. [To her son]Come, Constantine, leave your writing and come to supper. 

TREPLIEFF. I don't want anything to eat, mother; I am not hungry. 

ARKADINA. As you please. [She wakes SORIN] Come to supper, Peter. [Shetakes SHAMRAEFF'S arm] Let me tell you about my reception in Kharkoff. 

PAULINA blows out the candles on the table, then she and DORN rollSORIN'S chair out of the room, and all go out through the door on theleft, except TREPLIEFF, who is left alone. TREPLIEFF prepares to write. He runs his eye over what he has already written. 

TREPLIEFF. I have talked a great deal about new forms of art, but I feelmyself gradually slipping into the beaten track. [He reads] "Theplacard cried it from the wall--a pale face in a frame of duskyhair"--cried--frame--that is stupid. [He scratches out what he haswritten] I shall begin again from the place where my hero is wakened bythe noise of the rain, but what follows must go. This description of amoonlight night is long and stilted. Trigorin has worked out a processof his own, and descriptions are easy for him. He writes that the neckof a broken bottle lying on the bank glittered in the moonlight, andthat the shadows lay black under the mill-wheel. There you have amoonlight night before your eyes, but I speak of the shimmering light, the twinkling stars, the distant sounds of a piano melting into thestill and scented air, and the result is abominable. [A pause] Theconviction is gradually forcing itself upon me that good literature isnot a question of forms new or old, but of ideas that must pour freelyfrom the author's heart, without his bothering his head about any formswhatsoever. [A knock is heard at the window nearest the table] What wasthat? [He looks out of the window] I can't see anything. [He opens theglass door and looks out into the garden] I heard some one run downthe steps. [He calls] Who is there? [He goes out, and is heard walkingquickly along the terrace. In a few minutes he comes back with NINAZARIETCHNAYA] Oh, Nina, Nina!

NINA lays her head on TREPLIEFF'S breast and stifles her sobs. 

TREPLIEFF. [Deeply moved] Nina, Nina! It is you--you! I felt you wouldcome; all day my heart has been aching for you. [He takes off her hatand cloak] My darling, my beloved has come back to me! We mustn't cry, we mustn't cry. 

NINA. There is some one here. 

TREPLIEFF. No one is here. 

NINA. Lock the door, some one might come. 

TREPLIEFF. No one will come in. 

NINA. I know your mother is here. Lock the door. 

TREPLIEFF locks the door on the right and comes back to NINA. 

TREPLIEFF. There is no lock on that one. I shall put a chair againstit. [He puts an arm-chair against the door] Don't be frightened, no oneshall come in. 

NINA. [Gazing intently into his face] Let me look at you. [She looksabout her] It is warm and comfortable in here. This used to be asitting-room. Have I changed much?

TREPLIEFF. Yes, you have grown thinner, and your eyes are larger thanthey were. Nina, it seems so strange to see you! Why didn't you let mego to you? Why didn't you come sooner to me? You have been here nearly aweek, I know. I have been several times each day to where you live, andhave stood like a beggar beneath your window. 

NINA. I was afraid you might hate me. I dream every night that you lookat me without recognising me. I have been wandering about on the shoresof the lake ever since I came back. I have often been near your house, but I have never had the courage to come in. Let us sit down. [They sitdown] Let us sit down and talk our hearts out. It is so quiet and warmin here. Do you hear the wind whistling outside? As Turgenieff says, "Happy is he who can sit at night under the roof of his home, who has awarm corner in which to take refuge. " I am a sea-gull--and yet--no. [She passes her hand across her forehead] What was I saying? Oh, yes, Turgenieff. He says, "and God help all houseless wanderers. " [She sobs. ]

TREPLIEFF. Nina! You are crying again, Nina!

NINA. It is all right. I shall feel better after this. I have not criedfor two years. I went into the garden last night to see if our oldtheatre were still standing. I see it is. I wept there for the firsttime in two years, and my heart grew lighter, and my soul saw moreclearly again. See, I am not crying now. [She takes his hand in hers]So you are an author now, and I am an actress. We have both been suckedinto the whirlpool. My life used to be as happy as a child's; I used towake singing in the morning; I loved you and dreamt of fame, and what isthe reality? To-morrow morning early I must start for Eltz by train ina third-class carriage, with a lot of peasants, and at Eltz the educatedtrades-people will pursue me with compliments. It is a rough life. 

TREPLIEFF. Why are you going to Eltz?

NINA. I have accepted an engagement there for the winter. It is time forme to go. 

TREPLIEFF. Nina, I have cursed you, and hated you, and torn up yourphotograph, and yet I have known every minute of my life that my heartand soul were yours for ever. To cease from loving you is beyond mypower. I have suffered continually from the time I lost you and beganto write, and my life has been almost unendurable. My youth was suddenlyplucked from me then, and I seem now to have lived in this world forninety years. I have called out to you, I have kissed the ground youwalked on, wherever I looked I have seen your face before my eyes, andthe smile that had illumined for me the best years of my life. 

NINA. [Despairingly] Why, why does he talk to me like this?

TREPLIEFF. I am quite alone, unwarmed by any attachment. I am as coldas if I were living in a cave. Whatever I write is dry and gloomy andharsh. Stay here, Nina, I beseech you, or else let me go away with you. 

NINA quickly puts on her coat and hat. 

TREPLIEFF. Nina, why do you do that? For God's sake, Nina! [He watchesher as she dresses. A pause. ]

NINA. My carriage is at the gate. Do not come out to see me off. I shallfind the way alone. [Weeping] Let me have some water. 

TREPLIEFF hands her a glass of water. 

TREPLIEFF. Where are you going?

NINA. Back to the village. Is your mother here?

TREPLIEFF. Yes, my uncle fell ill on Thursday, and we telegraphed forher to come. 

NINA. Why do you say that you have kissed the ground I walked on? Youshould kill me rather. [She bends over the table] I am so tired. If Icould only rest--rest. [She raises her head] I am a sea-gull--no--no, I am an actress. [She hears ARKADINA and TRIGORIN laughing in thedistance, runs to the door on the left and looks through the keyhole] Heis there too. [She goes back to TREPLIEFF] Ah, well--no matter. Hedoes not believe in the theatre; he used to laugh at my dreams, so thatlittle by little I became down-hearted and ceased to believe in it too. Then came all the cares of love, the continual anxiety about my littleone, so that I soon grew trivial and spiritless, and played my partswithout meaning. I never knew what to do with my hands, and I could notwalk properly or control my voice. You cannot imagine the state of mindof one who knows as he goes through a play how terribly badly he isacting. I am a sea-gull--no--no, that is not what I meant to say. Do youremember how you shot a seagull once? A man chanced to pass that way anddestroyed it out of idleness. That is an idea for a short story, but itis not what I meant to say. [She passes her hand across her forehead]What was I saying? Oh, yes, the stage. I have changed now. Now I am areal actress. I act with joy, with exaltation, I am intoxicated by it, and feel that I am superb. I have been walking and walking, and thinkingand thinking, ever since I have been here, and I feel the strength ofmy spirit growing in me every day. I know now, I understand at last, Constantine, that for us, whether we write or act, it is not the honourand glory of which I have dreamt that is important, it is the strengthto endure. One must know how to bear one's cross, and one must havefaith. I believe, and so do not suffer so much, and when I think of mycalling I do not fear life. 

TREPLIEFF. [Sadly] You have found your way, you know where you aregoing, but I am still groping in a chaos of phantoms and dreams, notknowing whom and what end I am serving by it all. I do not believe inanything, and I do not know what my calling is. 

NINA. [Listening] Hush! I must go. Good-bye. When I have become afamous actress you must come and see me. Will you promise to come? Butnow--[She takes his hand] it is late. I can hardly stand. I am fainting. I am hungry. 

TREPLIEFF. Stay, and let me bring you some supper. 

NINA. No, no--and don't come out, I can find the way alone. My carriageis not far away. So she brought him back with her? However, whatdifference can that make to me? Don't tell Trigorin anything when yousee him. I love him--I love him even more than I used to. It is an ideafor a short story. I love him--I love him passionately--I love him todespair. Have you forgotten, Constantine, how pleasant the old timeswere? What a gay, bright, gentle, pure life we led? How a feeling assweet and tender as a flower blossomed in our hearts? Do you remember, [She recites] "All men and beasts, lions, eagles, and quails, hornedstags, geese, spiders, silent fish that inhabit the waves, starfish fromthe sea, and creatures invisible to the eye--in one word, life--all, alllife, completing the dreary round set before it, has died out at last. A thousand years have passed since the earth last bore a living creatureon its breast, and the unhappy moon now lights her lamp in vain. Nolonger are the cries of storks heard in the meadows, or the drone ofbeetles in the groves of limes----"

She embraces TREPLIEFF impetuously and runs out onto the terrace. 

TREPLIEFF. [After a pause] It would be a pity if she were seen in thegarden. My mother would be distressed. 

He stands for several minutes tearing up his manuscripts and throwingthem under the table, then unlocks the door on the right and goes out. 

DORN. [Trying to force open the door on the left] Odd! This door seemsto be locked. [He comes in and puts the chair back in its former place]This is like a hurdle race. 

ARKADINA and PAULINA come in, followed by JACOB carrying some bottles;then come MASHA, SHAMRAEFF, and TRIGORIN. 

ARKADINA. Put the claret and the beer here, on the table, so that we candrink while we are playing. Sit down, friends. 

PAULINA. And bring the tea at once. 

She lights the candles and takes her seat at the card-table. SHAMRAEFFleads TRIGORIN to the cupboard. 

SHAMRAEFF. Here is the stuffed sea-gull I was telling you about. [Hetakes the sea-gull out of the cupboard] You told me to have it done. 

TRIGORIN. [looking at the bird] I don't remember a thing about it, not athing. [A shot is heard. Every one jumps. ]

ARKADINA. [Frightened] What was that?

DORN. Nothing at all; probably one of my medicine bottles has blown up. Don't worry. [He goes out through the door on the right, and comes backin a few moments] It is as I thought, a flask of ether has exploded. [Hesings]

"Spellbound once more I stand before thee. "

ARKADINA. [Sitting down at the table] Heavens! I was really frightened. That noise reminded me of--[She covers her face with her hands]Everything is black before my eyes. 

DORN. [Looking through the pages of a magazine, to TRIGORIN] There wasan article from America in this magazine about two months ago that Iwanted to ask you about, among other things. [He leads TRIGORIN to thefront of the stage] I am very much interested in this question. [Helowers his voice and whispers] You must take Madame Arkadina away fromhere; what I wanted to say was, that Constantine has shot himself. 

The curtain falls.