reading. [He takes up his
book] 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, it
is my turn to read. [She takes the book and looks for the place] And
the rats. Ah, here it is. [She reads] "It is as dangerous for society to
attract and indulge authors as it is for grain-dealers to raise rats
in their granaries. Yet society loves authors. And so, when a woman
has found one whom she wishes to make her own, she lays siege to him
by indulging and flattering him." That may be so in France, but it
certainly is not so in Russia. We do not carry out a programme like
that. With us, a woman is usually head over ears in love with an author
before she attempts to lay siege to him. You have an example before your
eyes, in me and Trigorin.

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

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

NINA. [Sits down beside ARKADINA, and embraces her] I am so happy. I
belong 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. That
was 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 to
herself] But the rest is neither true nor interesting. [She lays down
the book] I am uneasy about my son. Tell me, what is the matter with
him? Why is he so dull and depressed lately? He spends all his days on
the lake, and I scarcely ever see him any more.

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

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

MASHA. [With suppressed rapture] When he recites, his eyes shine and his
face grows pale. His voice is beautiful and sad, and he has the ways of
a 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 really
o