atmosphere! Do you hear? Give me
atmosphere! [Sings a few notes.]

YATS. Beautiful! Beautiful!

ZMEYUKINA. Fan me, fan me, or I feel I shall have a heart attack in a
minute. Tell me, please, why do I feel so suffocated?

YATS. It's because you're sweating....

ZMEYUKINA. Foo, how vulgar you are! Don't dare to use such words!

YATS. Beg pardon! Of course, you're used, if I may say so, to
aristocratic society and....

ZMEYUKINA. Oh, leave me alone! Give me poetry, delight! Fan me, fan me!

ZHIGALOV. [To DIMBA] Let's have another, what? [Pours out] One can
always drink. So long only, Harlampi Spiridonovitch, as one doesn't
forget one's business. Drink and be merry.... And if you can drink at
somebody else's expense, then why not drink? You can drink.... Your
health! [They drink] And do you have tigers in Greece?

DIMBA. Yes.

ZHIGALOV. And lions?

DIMBA. And lions too. In Russia zere's nussing, and in Greece zere's
everysing--my fazer and uncle and brozeres--and here zere's nussing.

ZHIGALOV. H'm.... And are there whales in Greece?

DIMBA. Yes, everysing.

NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. [To her husband] What are they all eating and
drinking like that for? It's time for everybody to sit down to supper.
Don't keep on shoving your fork into the lobsters.... They're for the
general. He may come yet....

ZHIGALOV. And are there lobsters in Greece?

DIMBA. Yes... zere is everysing.

ZHIGALOV. Hm.... And Civil Servants.

ZMEYUKINA. I can imagine what the atmosphere is like in Greece!

ZHIGALOV. There must be a lot of swindling. The Greeks are just like the
Armenians or gipsies. They sell you a sponge or a goldfish and all the
time they are looking out for a chance of getting something extra out of
you. Let's have another, what?

NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. What do you want to go on having another for? It's
time everybody sat down to supper. It's past eleven.

ZHIGALOV. If it's time, then it's time. Ladies and gentlemen, please!
[Shouts] Supper! Young people!

NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. Dear visitors, please be seated!

ZMEYUKINA. [Sitting down at the table] Give me poetry.

"And he, the rebel, seeks the storm,
As if the storm can give him peace."

Give me the storm!

YATS. [Aside] Wonderful woman! I'm in love! Up to my ears!

[Enter DASHENKA, MOZGOVOY, GROOMSMEN, various ladies and gentlemen,
etc. They all noisily seat themselves at the table. There is a minute's
pause, while the band plays a march.]