er when people
say nice things to him.

SHAMRAEFF. I remember when the famous Silva was singing once in the
Opera 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 suppose
we 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 an
immense fortune to her husband, and now the child is penniless because
the father has already willed everything away to his second wife. It is
pitiful.

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

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

ARKADINA. Yes, you act as if they were turned to stone; you can hardly
move 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 it
unchained, Shamraeff?

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

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

DORN. I may have lost my judgment and my wits, but I must confess I
liked that play. There was something in it. When the girl spoke of her
solitude and the Devil's eyes gleamed across the lake, I felt my hands
shaking with e