tween man and man or man and nature do not
exist. [He tries to go out; SONIA prevents him.]

SONIA. I beg you, I implore you, not to drink any more!

ASTROFF. Why not?

SONIA. It is so unworthy of you. You are well-bred, your voice is sweet,
you are even--more than any one I know--handsome. Why do you want to
resemble the common people that drink and play cards? Oh, don't, I beg
you! You always say that people do not create anything, but only destroy
what heaven has given them. Why, oh, why, do you destroy yourself? Oh,
don't, I implore you not to! I entreat you!

ASTROFF. [Gives her his hand] I won't drink any more.

SONIA. Promise me.

ASTROFF. I give you my word of honour.

SONIA. [Squeezing his hand] Thank you.

ASTROFF. I have done with it. You see, I am perfectly sober again, and
so I shall stay till the end of my life. [He looks his watch] But, as
I was saying, life holds nothing for me; my race is run. I am old, I
am tired, I am trivial; my sensibilities are dead. I could never attach
myself to any one again. I love no one, and never shall! Beauty alone
has the power to touch me still. I am deeply moved by it. Helena could
turn my head in a day if she wanted to, but that is not love, that is
not affection--

[He shudders and covers his face with his hands.]

SONIA. What is it?

ASTROFF. Nothing. During Lent one of my patients died under chloroform.

SONIA. It is time to forget that. [A pause] Tell me, doctor, if I had a
friend or a younger sister, and if you knew that she, well--loved you,
what would you do?

ASTROFF. [Shrugging his shoulders] I don't know. I don't think I should
do anything. I should make her understand that I could not return her
love--however, my mind is not bothered about those things now. I must
start at once if I am ever to get off. Good-bye, my dear girl. At this
rate we shall stand here talking till morning. [He shakes hands with
her] I shall go out through the sitting-room, because I am afraid your
uncle might detain me. [He goes out.]

SONIA. [Alone] Not a word! His heart and soul are still locked from me,
and yet for some reason I am strangely happy. I wonder why? [She laughs
with pleasure] I told him that he was well-bred and handsome and that
his voice was sweet. Was that a mistake? I can still feel his voice
vibrating in the air; it caresses me. [Wringing her hands] Oh! how
terrible it is to be plain! I am plain, I know it. As I came out of
church last Sunday I ov