k.

MASHA. Who is that for, mother?

PAULINA. Mr. Sorin asked to sleep in Constantine's room to-night.

MASHA. Let me make the bed.

She makes the bed. PAULINA goes up to the desk and looks at the
manuscripts lying on it. [A pause.]

MEDVIEDENKO. Well, I am going. Good-bye, Masha. [He kisses his wife's
hand] Good-bye, mother. [He tries to kiss his mother-in-law's hand.]

PAULINA. [Crossly] Be off, in God's name!

TREPLIEFF shakes hands with him in silence, and MEDVIEDENKO goes out.

PAULINA. [Looking at the manuscripts] No one ever dreamed, Constantine,
that you would one day turn into a real author. The magazines pay you
well for your stories. [She strokes his hair.] You have grown handsome,
too. Dear, kind Constantine, be a little nicer to my Masha.

MASHA. [Still making the bed] Leave him alone, mother.

PAULINA. She is a sweet child. [A pause] A woman, Constantine, asks only
for kind looks. I know that from experience.

TREPLIEFF gets up from his desk and goes out without a word.

MASHA. There now! You have vexed him. I told you not to bother him.

PAULINA. I am sorry for you, Masha.

MASHA. Much I need your pity!

PAULINA. My heart aches for you. I see how things are, and understand.

MASHA. You see what doesn't exist. Hopeless love is only found in
novels. It is a trifle; all one has to do is to keep a tight rein on
oneself, and keep one's head clear. Love must be plucked out the moment
it springs up in the heart. My husband has been promised a school in
another district, and when we have once left this place I shall forget
it all. I shall tear my passion out by the roots. [The notes of a
melancholy waltz are heard in the distance.]

PAULINA. Constantine is playing. That means he is sad.

MASHA silently waltzes a few turns to the music.

MASHA. The great thing, mother, is not to have him continually in sight.
If my Simon could only get his remove I should forget it all in a month
or two. It is a trifle.

DORN and MEDVIEDENKO come in through the door on the left, wheeling
SORIN in an arm-chair.

MEDVIEDENKO. I have six mouths to feed now, and flour is at seventy
kopecks.

DORN. A hard riddle to solve!

MEDVIEDENKO. It is easy for you to make light of it. You are rich enough
to scatter money to your chickens, if you wanted to.

DORN. You think I am rich? My friend, after practising for thirty years,
during which I could not call my soul my own for one minute of the night
or day, I succe