ACT+1+SCRIPT

The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Sea Gull, by Anton Checkov

THE SEA GULL

By Anton Checkov

A Play In Four Acts

CHARACTERS

CindyMarie IRINA ARKADINA, an actress

Andrew CONSTANTINE TREPLIEFF, her son

Warren PETER SORIN, her brother

Deidra NINA ZARIETCHNAYA, a young daughter of a rich landowner

Kevin ILIA SHAMRAEFF, the manager of SORIN'S estate

Karen PAULINA, his wife

Marcella MASHA, their daughter

Murray BORIS TRIGORIN, an author

Shawn EUGENE DORN, a doctor

Adam SIMON MEDVIEDENKO, a schoolmaster

JACOB, a workman

A COOK

A MAIDSERVANT

/The scene is laid on SORIN'S estate. Two years elapse between the third and fourth acts/.

THE SEA GULL

ACT I

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

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

MEDVIEDENKO. How come you always wear black?

MASHA. I’m in mourning for my life. I’m unhappy.

MEDVIEDENKO. Why? [Thinking]. How can you be that unhappy? You’re healthy. Your father manages this estate. He’s not rich…look at my life. It’s much harder than yours; I live on twenty-three roubles a month; only twenty-three; and I don't go around wearing black. [They sit down].

MASHA. Oh, money isn’t everything; the poor can be happy too.

MEDVIEDENKO. Yeah, well, theoretically, yes, but not in real life; well, not always. Take me for instance, and my measly little salary: twenty-three roubles a month; and on that I have to support my mother, my two sisters, my little brother and me. We have to eat, we have to drink; it’s not like we can go without tea, or sugar, or tobacco, and so on, and so forth.

MASHA. [Looking in the direction of the stage] The play should be starting soon.

MEDVIEDENKO. Yes, finally; Nina’s starring in Konstantine’s play. Ahhhh; those two are so in love; and with this performance their souls will merge into a unified artistic creation. If only we had a place like that where our two souls could meet? I love you so much that when I’m at home without you, I feel so miserable and lonely. And so I walk four whole miles here to see you and then four whole miles back.I do this every day and every day you greet me with... the same coldness. Who can blame you; I’m poor, with a big family to support. Who wants to marry someone who can’t even feed himself?

MASHA. Oh, that is such a load of... [She takes snuff] Look, your affection is very touching; I just can’t return it, that’s all. [She offers him the snuffbox] Here.

MEDVIEDENKO. [He goes to take some] No, thank you. [A pause.]

MASHA. It's muggy out. I think a storm is coming. All you ever do is talk about money and bitch. You think there's nothing worse than poverty. I think it's much easier to beg than to...you’ll never understand.

[SORIN, leaning on a cane, and TREPLIEFF come in.}

SORIN. No, this country life doesn't suit me at all; I'll never get used to it. Last night I went to sleep at ten. This morning I woke at nine feeling like my brain was stuck to the side of my skull. [Laughing] And then I dropped off to sleep right after dinner, and I still feel like shit. It’s a nightmare.

TREPLIEFF. You're right. You should be living in town. [He catches sight of MASHA and MEDVIEDENKO] Get away, you two. I will call you when we’re ready to start the play. Now! Please go.

SORIN. Masha, dear, tell your father to let that damn dog off it’s chain? It was howling all night long and my sister couldn’t sleep.

MASHA. You'll have to talk to him yourself. Sorry; he never listens to me. [To MEDVIEDENKO] Come, we should go.

MEDVIEDENKO. Let us know when the play starts?

MASHA and MEDVIEDENKO go out.

SORIN. That stupid dog’s going to howl all night. I come out here for a month’s holiday, to rest up and all that, and this is what I have to put up with. One day of this crap and I want to run away. I’ve always liked it out here; but I can’t live like this. [Laughing] I would dream about coming out here, about getting away from it all, but now that I’m retired, and this is the only place I can be…what’s there to dream about. A person has to live somewhere.

JACOB. [To TREPLIEFF] We are going for a swim, Mr. Konstantine.

TREPLIEFF. All right, but be back in ten minutes.

JACOB. All right.

TREPLIEFF. [Looking at the stage] It looks just like a real theatre! We have a stage, a curtain, wings at the side - then nothing beyond but empty space. And, no scenery. Your eye instantly travels to the lake, and rests on the horizon. The curtain will be raised as the moon rises at half-past eight.

SORIN. Magnificent!

TREPLIEFF. Of course, Nina was supposed to be here by now. If she’s late, the whole effect'll be ruined. It’s like breaking her out of prison to get her here; her father and stepmother watch her like hawks. [He straightens SORIN'S collar] Look at you; your hair and beard are a mess. You need a trim.

SORIN. [Smoothing his beard] That has always been my downfall. Even when I was younger I always looked like a bum. I think that’s why women have never liked me. [Sitting down] Why is my sister so cranky today?

TREPLIEFF. She always gets like this when she’s jealous and bored. [Sitting down beside SORIN] She not in the show tonight, and Nina is, so she’s making me pay for that; she’s not supportive of the performance, or the play itself; she hates it and she hasn’t even read it.

SORIN. [Laughing] Really?

TREPLIEFF. Yeah, she’s in a snit because Nina will be in the spotlight tonight. Seriously, even out here, on this little stage. [Looking at his watch] My mother’s so neurotic. She may be talented, and sensitive and if you’re sick she’s like an angel of mercy; but don’t you dare praise another actress in her presence! Did I mention that she’s competitive? That only she can be applauded, or written about, or raved over. She doesn’t get any of that out here. There’s no rejoiceful praise here in the country, so she gets grumpy and bad-tempered. Then she thinks we’re all out to get her, and claims, “everything’s our fault”. Neurotic and incredibly superstitious. She flips out if someone lights up three cigarettes with one match, or if she realizes it’s Friday the thirteenth, or if someone utters Macbeth backstage. And, she’s incredibly stingy; she has seventy thousand roubles in a bank in Odessa, I’ve seen the bank statements, but ask her to lend you a penny and she breaks into tears.

SORIN. You’ve gotten it into your head that your mother hates your play, and that thought is weighing you down. Just relax; your mother absolutely adores you.

TREPLIEFF. [Pulling a flower to pieces] She loves me, loves me not; Loves- loves me not; loves- loves not! [Laughing] There you see, she doesn't love me; why should she? She wants to live and be young and love and dress up; and now that I’ve turned twenty-five, I just remind her that she’s getting old. When I’m not around, to everyone she can be “twenty-nine”, but when I’m there, she’s forty-three, and she hates me for it. She knows I can’t stand the kind of theatre she does. But she loves it; she imagines she’s saving the world with her “sacred art”, but I find it all mired in useless convention and prejudice. The curtain goes up on the same kind of set, with an imaginary fourth wall. And then these so-called artistic geniuses, these holy priests of high art, show us what ordinary people are supposed to be like. How we eat, or drink, or love, or walk, or even wear our coats. And then, they proceed to hit-us-over-the-head with some kind of profound moral insight woven into the play’s insipid dialogue. Meanwhile, the playwrights keep giving us the same old shit wrapped up in different packages. It makes me want to run away as fast as I can- like Maupassant running from the Eiffel Tower because it was about to crush him with its vulgarity.

SORIN. But we still need the theatre!

TREPLIEFF. Maybe, but we need a new form. Otherwise, we shouldn’t have it at all. [Looking at his watch] I love my mother, I’m devoted to her, but she’s a mess. If it’s not that celebrated author she preoccupied with, then she’s in a panic about something she’s read in the papers; I am just so sick and tired of it. I long for something simpler; I hate that she’s a famous actress. If she were more… ordinary, I’d probably be happier. You know, Uncle, sometimes I feel so invisible, and so pathetic. Her famous friends, the authors or the artists, they only put up with me because I am her son. I am a nobody; an insignificant little bug who squeaked through his last year of university by the skin of his teeth. I have no money, no brains, no distinctions. I’m like my father, but at least he was an actor. When her celebrity friends even notice me at all, they just look at me to judge how pathetic I really am; I can see it in their eyes, and it's so… embarrasing.

SORIN. You have to tell me something; what is Trigorin like? I can't read him at all; he’s so quiet.

TREPLIEFF. Trigorin is clever; but simple and well-mannered. He’s not even forty, but he gets showered with praise wherever he goes. His stories are… pleasing… full of talent, but once you’ve read Tolstoi or Zola, Trigorin seems more… superficial.

SORIN. You know, son, I’ve always admired literary men. I once dreamed of two things: getting married and being an author and I have failed at both. I think it would be so satisfying to be an author, even an insignificant one.

TREPLIEFF. [Listening] I think that’s her! [He embraces his uncle] I can't live without her; the sound of her footsteps... is music to my ears. Everything about her just drives me wild. [He goes quickly to meet NINA, who comes in at that moment] Nina, my angel!

NINA. [Excitedly] Tell me I’m not late. Am I late?

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

NINA. I’ve been in a panic all day, I was so afraid my father would try and stop me from coming over here. He finally went out for a drive with my stepmother. Oh, look how clear the sky is, and the moon is rising. I can’t tell you how I rushed to get here! I pushed my horse to go faster and faster! [Laughing] I’m so, so glad to see you!

[She shakes hands with SORIN.]

SORIN. Oh my! You look like you’ve been crying. You mustn't do that.

NINA. It’s nothing, nothing. We should get going. I only have half an hour. And for god sake, do not beg me to stay. If my father finds out I’m here…

TREPLIEFF. Actually, it’s time to start. I’ll go scare up an audience.

SORIN. I’ll take care of that; really, I don’t mind. [He goes toward the right, begins to sing "The Two Grenadiers," and then stops.] I sang that once and this lawyer that I worked with said: "You have a powerful voice, sir." But then he added, "But a very unpleasant one!" [He goes out laughing.]

NINA. You know I’m not allowed over here. My father and my step-mom call this place Bohemia; they’re afraid I’ll want to be an actress. But I love this lake, and all the gulls; and my heart is full of you. [She glances about her.]

TREPLIEFF. I think we’re alone.

NINA. Isn't there someone over there?

TREPLIEFF. No. [They kiss one another.]

NINA. What kind of tree is that?

TREPLIEFF. An elm.

NINA. But it’s so dark?

TREPLIEFF. Is it? Everything looks dark in the evening. Please, don't slip away later.

NINA. I have to.

TREPLIEFF. I could follow you? I could stand in your garden all night long with my eyes glued to your window.

NINA. Ha. The watchman would see you, and Treasure and would bark, he doesn’t know you yet.

TREPLIEFF. I love you.

NINA. Shhhh!

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

JACOB. [On the stage] Yes, sir.

TREPLIEFF. Well, places then. The moon is coming up; the play must go on.

NINA. Yes, sir.

TREPLIEFF. Okay; Jacob, did you get the alcohol ready; and the sulphur? There has to be the smell of sulphur in the air when the red eyes are shining out. [To NINA] You better go get ready. You nervous?

NINA. Yes, very. More scared of Trigorin than your mother. He’s so famous; I feel terrified; I’m embarrassed to act in front of him. Is he…young?

TREPLIEFF. Uh-huh.

NINA. His stories are so beautiful, don’t you think?

TREPLIEFF. [Coldly] Don’t ask me, I wouldn’t be caught dead reading them.

NINA. You know your play is very hard to act in; the characters don’t really come alive.

TREPLIEFF. That’s the whole point! It’s like a dream. Life shouldn’t be represented as it is, but how it could be; theatre and dreams share the same imagery.

NINA. But there is so little action; it’s more like a recitation. And shouldn’t there be love in every play.

[NINA and TREPLIEFF go up onto the little stage; PAULINA and DORN come in.]

PAULINA. It is getting damp. Go and put your rubber boots on.

DORN. No, I am fine.

PAULINA. You never take care of yourself; and you’re so stubborn about it; you’re a doctor, for heaven’s sake; you know damp air is bad for you. You’re just trying to torture me, that's all. Last night you sat out on the veranda all evening, on purpose.

DORN. [Sings] "Oh, tell me not that youth is wasted."

PAULINA. You were so caught up in your conversation with Madame Arkadina, you didn’t even notice the cold. You’re attracted to her admit it.

DORN. I am fifty-five years old.

PAULINA. So what. That’s not that old for a man. You still have your looks; the women still like you.

DORN. What are you saying?

PAULINA. Men. You’re all ready to fall all over yourselves for an actress, all of you.

DORN. [Sings] "Once more I stand before thee." Artists should be treated differently. It might be a little idealistic but they should be celebrated, more than say, businessmen.

PAULINA. So the women that loved you and threw themselves at your feet, they were being idealistic?

DORN. [Shrugging his shoulders] How should I know? Some of my relationships with women have been very admirable. They saw me as a fine doctor. Remember, ten years ago I was the only decent doctor in these parts. I haven’t I always acted honorably?

PAULINA. [Seizes his hand] Oh, my love!

DORN. Hush! Here they come.

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

SHAMRAEFF. Her performance at the Poltava Fair back in 1873 was simply breath taking; she was magnificent. And there was that comic actor… Tchadin, whatever happened to him? His Rasplueff, was incredible, even better than Sadofski’s. What’s he up to now?

ARKADINA. That's ancient history! Why in the world would I know what those old has-beens are up to now? [She sits down.]

SHAMRAEFF. [Sighing] Ahh, Pashka Tchadin! He was one of a kind. The theatre is not what it used to be. Once we had might oaks growing around us, now, only stumps.

DORN. You know, there’s fewer truly gifted artists these days, but generally, I think the overall quality of acting is much better.

SHAMRAEFF. I totally disagree; but of course, it’s all subjective, really, a matter of taste.

Enter TREPLIEFF from behind the stage.

ARKADINA. My darling! Isn't it time to start your little play?

TREPLIEFF. Just a minute. You have to be patient.

ARKADINA. [Quoting from Hamlet] 'Oh Hamlet, speak no more! Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul; And there I see such black and grained spots As will not leave their tinct. [Polite applause]

DORN. Nay, but to live In the rank sweat of an enseamed bed Stew'd in corruption, honeying and making love Over the nasty sty...

[A horn is blown behind the stage.]

TREPLIEFF. Attention, ladies and gentlemen! The play is about to begin. [He waits for the audience to settle] And now, we shall commence. [He taps the door with a stick, and speaks in a loud voice]

Each night across its mirrored surface creeps This lake’s renownéd and most ancient fog, That blinds our waking eyes, though in our sleep Reveals in dreams the future’s Travelogue. So pray you, gentle viewer, watch and see That which in two hundred thousand years will be.

SORIN. If there is anything left to see in two hundred thousand years.

TREPLIEFF. Then prepare to see that nothingness.

ARKADINA. We were prepared for nothing before we even sat down; and now we’re all about to be put to sleep. [People laugh] [The curtain rises. A vista opens across the lake. The moon hangs low above the horizon and is reflected in the water. NINA, dressed in white, is seen seated on a great rock.]

NINA: All men and beasts, once plentiful and free; Yay all, from the majestic lion down, The sky’s fine eagle, to the lowly flea, Small insects that the naked eye confounds; E’en those that in the seas inhabit there: From spouting whales to silent fish, replete: All life! All’s gone and lost its worldly care The dreary circle finally complete. All is cold, cold cold. All is void void, void All is terrible, terrible, terrible.

On Mother Earth, no living creature’s suck’d Upon her fertile breast, or felt her tears; All now’s Ashes to Ashes, dust to dust And it has been thus for a barren thousand years Unhappily, the moon shines down in vain. For all is frozen, with a bitter cold. A void, for only emptiness remains And all is wretchedness that we behold.

[A pause] With corpses of all living creatures gone For they the frugal Earth has but reclaimed And once again transforméd into stones Primordial seas, black clouds, and bitter rain.

All spirits, though, have all joined in one hand, And that Universal Soul is who I am!

Inside me flows Great Alexander’s might The smallest leech that swims and all the rest The lust of Caesar, Shakespeare’s moral right The cleverness Napoleon possessed; Joined with the animal instinct most base Is all of humankind’s noblility And understanding all that I possess Yay all; know each life lives in me again.

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

ARKADINA. [Whispers] Oh, the decadent school.

TREPLIEFF. [Imploringly] Mother!

NINA. I am alone. Once every hundred years my lips part, And my voice echoes mournfully across the barren earth, But no one hears. Even the marsh lights, do not hear my call.

[ pause] Like a captive cast into a deep and empty well, I know not where I am, nor what awaits me. In my fierce and obstinate battle with Satan, Father of everlasting substance The source of all the atoms that make up matter , I am destined to be victorious in the end. Matter and spirit will at last be one in glorious harmony, And the reign of freedom will begin on earth. But this can only come to pass by slow degrees, When after countless eons the moon and earth And shining Sirius himself shall fall to dust. Until that hour, oh, horror! horror! horror!

[A pause. Two glowing red points are seen shining across the lake]

Satan, the devil my mighty foe, advances; I see his dread and lurid eyes.

ARKADINA. I smell sulphur - is that a part of it?

TREPLIEFF. Yes.

ARKADINA. [laughing] Oh, I see! Special effects.

TREPLIEFF. Mother!

NINA. He longs for man?

PAULINA. [To DORN] Why is your hat off again! Put it back on, you’ll catch a cold.

ARKADINA. The doctor has taken his hat off to Satan, “Father of everlasting substance”.

TREPLIEFF. [Loudly and angrily] That’s enough! The show is over. Bring in the curtain!

ARKADINA. Why? Now what are you so angry about?

TREPLIEFF. [Stamping his foot] The curtain; I said bring it in! [The curtain falls] Pardon me, I forgot that we common people need permission to produce plays from you chosen few who want to maintain a stranglehold on all writing and acting. I… I?-

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

ARKADINA. What was that all about?

SORIN. You were a little rough on his ego.

ARKADINA. What did I say?

SORIN. You hurt his feelings.

ARKADINA. But he told us himself his play was all a lark, so that’s how I treated it.

SORIN. Nevertheless?-

ARKADINA. And suddenly, he’s produced a masterpiece. Really! So it wasn't a lark. He put together this extravaganza and choked us with sulphur not to amuse us, but to make a point. To teach us how plays should be written, and acted. I'm so tired of the constant insults and blatant disrespect - it would try the patience of a saint. He's an impetuous, pretentious little boy.

SORIN. He was trying to please you.

ARKADINA. Really? Then why couldn't he choose a proper play? Why make us sit through this self-indulgent shit? I am perfectly willing to listen to a self-indulgent rant if it's meant to entertain, but this apparently was meant to be a new theatrical form, the art of the future. Since when has the exhibition of a morbid personality been a new art form?

TRIGORIN. Every writer must write what they know, as best they can.

ARKADINA. He's welcome to continue writing. I just pray I won't be subjected to his future works.

DORN. When Jupiter is angry, Jupiter is wrong

ARKADINA. I'm not Jupiter, I am a woman. [She lights a cigarette] And I'm not angry. I just hate to see a young man wasting his time like that. I never meant to hurt his feelings.

MEDVIEDENKO. //The body, as well as the soul, goes to the making of a man//…WHY the soul may be no more than the totality of all the atoms that make up our bodies. [Excitedly, to TRIGORIN] Some day you should write a play about the experience of being a schoolmaster. It's such a hard life.

ARKADINA. I'm sure it is. Let's stop all this talk of plays and atoms? It's such a lovely evening! Is that singing? Listen everyone. [She listens attentively] Heaven.

PAULINA. Yes, someone is singing across the lake. [A pause.]

ARKADINA. [To TRIGORIN] Come, sit next to me. A dozen years ago you could have heard music and singing across the water almost every night. There are six estates bordering the lake. Back then it was it was nothing but chatter and laughter and romance; oh, such romance! Back in those days, the biggest matinee idol, the hottest star, was our very own, [Nods toward DORN] Doctor Eugene Dorn. You may think he’s fascinating now, but back then he was irresistible.... Ohhh, my conscience is starting to bother me. How could I hurt my little boy's feeling like that? - Now I'm worried about him. [She calls loudly] Kostya! Kostya, darling!

MASHA. Would you like me to go look for him?

ARKADINA. Would you, dear?

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

NINA. [Comes out from behind the stage] Well, so much for this performance. I don’t think we’re going get going again. And now I have to get home. Good night everyone. [She kisses ARKADINA and PAULINA.]

SORIN. Bravo! Bravo!

ARKADINA. Yes, bravo! Bravo! We were all enchanted by you. With those looks and that lovely voice, it's a crime that you are hidden away here in the country. I'm certain you must have talent. I'm convinced of it. You must be an actress.

NINA. That’s all I ever dreamt of; but it’s just a dream.

ARKADINA. You never know. Here now, let me introduce you to my friend, the great Boris Trigorin.

NINA. I am so delighted to meet you. [Embarrassed] I’ve read all your books.

ARKADINA. [Drawing NINA down beside her] No need to be intimidated by him, my dear. He may be famous, but deep down he has a good heart and simple needs like the rest of us. Look - now he’s embarrassed.

DORN. Does any one mind if we raise the curtain? I don’t like it closed. It’s depressing.

SHAMRAEFF. [Loudly] Hey, Jacob! Pull the curtain open, will you.

NINA. [To TRIGORIN] It’s an intriguing play, don’t you think?

TRIGORIN. Yes, very different. I can’t say that I understood most of it, but I thought you acted it with such sincerity; that was the highlight for me; that, and the setting was beautiful. [A pause] There must be tons of fish in this lake.

NINA. Oh yes, there are.

TRIGORIN. I love to fish, it’s one of the few things that give me pleasure. It is just so peaceful to sit by a lake in the evening, to think of nothing and just watch your float bobbing up and down.

NINA. I think I can see that. Once you’ve tasted the joys of creation, what other pleasure exists.

ARKADINA. [laughing] Oh, you shouldn't talk to him like that. When people overwhelm him with compliments, it makes him want to run away and hide.

SHAMRAEFF. I remember once; the great baritone, Silva was singing in the Moscow Opera House. The audience was beside themselves when he rumbled out a low C. Well, suddenly, one of the church cantors, who just happened to be up in the nosebleeds, suddenly boomed out: "Bravo, Silva!" a whole octave lower. He went: [In a deep bass voice] "Bravo, Silva!" and the audience was left breathless. [A pause.]

DORN: An angel of silence just flew.

NINA. I have to go. Good-bye everyone

ARKADINA. Go? But why? It’s still early? No, we won't let you leave.

NINA. My father will be waiting for me.

ARKADINA. He is much too strict, it’s bordering on cruelty, if you ask me. [They kiss each other] I know we can't keep you, but it’s just so hard to let you go.

NINA. If you only knew how difficult it is to leave you all.

ARKADINA. Someone should see you get home safely, dear.

NINA. [Startled] No, no!

SORIN. [Imploringly] Please, stay!

NINA. I sorry.

SORIN. Just an hour, that’s all. That’s not too much to ask.

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

ARKADINA. Poor girl! - literally. Apparently her mother left behind quite a fortune but it all went to her husband; he’s has willed it all to his second wife. The girl hasn't a thing to her name. Perfectly scandalous.

DORN. Her father’s a real shit; I don't care who hears it, he deserves it.

SORIN. [Rubbing his chilled hands] Come, we should go in; the night is damp, and my legs starting to ache.

ARKADINA. Look at you, it's like your legs have frozen solid. You can hardly walk. Come on, you poor old man. [She takes his arm.]

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

SORIN. There’s that dog howling again. Shamraeff, do you mind it leaving it off its chain tonight?

SHAMRAEFF. That’s impossible. With silos full of millet and grain, what if thieves broke in and the dog wasn’t there. [Walking beside MEDVIEDENKO] Yep, "Bravo, Silva!" a whole octave lower: and he wasn't a really a singer, just a simple church cantor.

MEDVIEDENKO. What does the church pay its singers; they must get something? [All go out except DORN.]

DORN. I must say I liked the play. There’s something to it. [Dorn notices everyone else has gone] What she said about solitude and then when the Devil's eyes shone out across the lake; maybe I’m just getting soft, but my hands were shaking; such a fresh and innocent perspective. Ah Konstantine; I must compliment you.

[TREPLIEFF comes in.]

TREPLIEFF. I see everyone’s gone; no reason to stick around, I guess.

DORN. I’m here.

TREPLIEFF. I’ve been avoiding Masha; she’s been shouting for me all over. She's a very intolerable woman.

DORN. Konstantine, your play… it was a bit different, obviously, and even though I didn’t see the ending, it made a very profound impression on me. I really think you have a gift, I just had to tell you, you must keep at it.

[TREPLIEFF seizes his hand and squeezes it hard, then kisses him impetuously.}

DORN. There, there! You artists are so emotional; are those tears? Let me tell you something; the best works of art have, at their core, a profound truth. With your play, you grapple with some very abstract ideas, but you tackle them with sincerity, and without fear; only when artists, like yourself, shine a light of truth into these dark reaches of the mind, do we see something truly beautiful. Oh my god; you look pale.

TREPLIEFF. So you think I should keep at it?

DORN. Definitely. But don’t ever set your sights too low. Don’t ever settle for something superficial or mainstream. Your talent seeks more fertile ground; it yearns for depth for the kind of truths that stand the test of time. I chose a simple life, a quiet life, and I don’t regret that decision; I have always been content; but deep down I know if I was able to experience what an artist feels when he’s truly inspired and is driven to create, I think my soul would fly out my body and soar into the stratosphere.

TREPLIEFF. I'm sorry - where's Nina?

DORN. An artist needs a point of view, a subjective reason to create. Write what you know to be true, and keep this in sight or you risk losing your way; the genius and the madman, you know, are like opposite sides of the same coin.

TREPLIEFF. [Impetuously] Where's Nina?

DORN. She left a while ago; she had to go home.

TREPLIEFF. [In despair] Gone home? Now what’ll I do? I have to see her; I must see her! I’m going after her.

DORN. Shhh, quiet down.

TREPLIEFF. No. I am leaving. I have to go.

[MASHA comes in.]

MASHA. Your mother says you’re supposed to come in, Mr. Konstantine. She’s waiting for you; she a little upset.

TREPLIEFF. Tell her I’ve run off. God! Why can’t anybody just leave me alone! [to Dorn] Why don’t you get lost? [to Masha] And you, stop following me everywhere!

DORN. Hey, now; that’s unnecessary. You don’t have to be rude.

TREPLIEFF. [Through his tears] Goodnight, doctor. Thanks for everything.

[TREPLIEFF goes out.]

DORN. [Sighing] Ah, youth, youth!

MASHA. Why is it always "Youth, youth," when people run out of things to say.

[She takes snuff. DORN takes the snuff-box out of her hands and flings it into the bushes.]

DORN. You need to stop that. It’s a horrible filthy habit. [A pause] There’s music coming from the house. Do you hear that? I should go in.

MASHA. Just a minute.

DORN. Yes?

MASHA. You usually know what I’m going to say before I even say it; but I feel like talking. [She grows more and more excited] My father couldn’t care less about me, and the feeling’s mutual. So somehow I always find myself looking to you. I don’t know why, but my heart and my soul feel connected to you, somehow. Like they are always with me. I need your help! I feel weak; I feel like I’m capable of doing something stupid or reckless; something that will make me a laughing stock, or crush me altogether.

DORN. What is it? What can I do to help?

MASHA. Every minute is sheer agony; and no one, no one around me knows or can even imagine how much I suffer. [She lays her head on his shoulder and speaks softly] I’m in love with Konstantine.

DORN. Oh, you are so emotional! Love seems to inhabit this magical lake. [Tenderly] Tell me what I can do for you, my child. Tell me. What?

The curtain falls.