Trigorin.  Nothing much, only an idea that occurred to me. [He puts the book back in his pocket] An idea for a short story.  A young girl grows up on the shores of a lake, as you have.  She loves the lake as the gulls do, and is as happy and free as they.  But a man sees her who chances to come that way, and he destroys her out of idleness, as this gull here has been destroyed. [A pause.  Arkadina appears at one of the windows.]

Arkadina.  Boris!  Where are you?

Trigorin.  I am coming this minute.

He goes toward the house, looking back at Nina.  Arkadina remains at the window.

Trigorin.  What do you want?

Arkadina.  We are not going away, after all.

Trigorin goes into the house.  Nina comes forward and stands lost in thought.

Nina.  It is a dream!

The curtain falls.

ACT III

The dining-room of SORIN’S house.  Doors open out of it to the right and left.  A table stands in the centre of the room.  Trunks and boxes encumber the floor, and preparations for departure are evident.  TRIGORIN is sitting at a table eating his breakfast, and MASHA is standing beside him.

Masha.  I am telling you all these things because you write books and they may be useful to you.  I tell you honestly, I should not have lived another day if he had wounded himself fatally.  Yet I am courageous; I have decided to tear this love of mine out of my heart by the roots.

Trigorin.  How will you do it?

Masha.  By marrying Medviedenko.

Trigorin.  The school-teacher?

Masha.  Yes.

Trigorin.  I don’t see the necessity for that.

Masha.  Oh, if you knew what it is to love without hope for years and years, to wait for ever for something that will never come!  I shall not marry for love, but marriage will at least be a change, and will bring new cares to deaden the memories of the past.  Shall we have another drink?

Trigorin.  Haven’t you had enough?

Masha.  Fiddlesticks! [She fills a glass] Don’t look at me with that expression on your face.  Women drink oftener than you imagine, but most of them do it in secret, and not openly, as I do.  They do indeed, and it is always either vodka or brandy. [They touch glasses] To your good health!  You are so easy to get on with that I am sorry to see you go. [They drink.]

Trigorin.  And I am sorry to leave.

Masha.  You should ask her to stay.

Trigorin.  She would not do that now.  Her son has been behaving outrageously.  First he attempted suicide, and now I hear he is going to challenge me to a duel, though what his provocation may be I can’t imagine.  He is always sulking and sneering and preaching about a new form of art, as if the field of art were not large enough to accommodate both old and new without the necessity of jostling.