The Seagull

epub:type="z3998:persona">Dorn The life in the streets is so wonderful there. When you go out of the hotel in the evening, the whole street is packed with people. You wander aimlessly zigzagging about among the crowd, backwards and forwards; you live with it, are psychologically at one with it and begin almost to believe that a world-soul is really possible, such as was acted by Nina Zaretchny in your play. And, by the way, where is she now? How is she getting on? Treplev I expect she is quite well. Dorn I was told that she was leading a rather peculiar life. How was that? Treplev That’s a long story, doctor. Dorn Well, tell it us shortly a pause. Treplev She ran away from home and had an affair with Trigorin. You know that? Dorn I know. Treplev She had a child. The child died. Trigorin got tired of her and went back to his old ties, as might have been expected. Though, indeed, he had never abandoned them, but in his weak-willed way contrived to keep both going. As far as I can make out from what I have heard, Nina’s private life was a complete failure. Dorn And the stage? Treplev I fancy that was worse still. She made her debut at some holiday place near Moscow, then went to the provinces. All that time I did not lose sight of her, and wherever she went I followed her. She always took big parts, but she acted crudely, without taste, screamingly, with violent gestures. There were moments when she uttered a cry successfully or died successfully, but they were only moments. Dorn Then she really has some talent? Treplev It was difficult to make it out. I suppose she has. I saw her but she would not see me, and the servants would not admit me at the hotel. I understood her state of mind and did not insist on seeing her a pause. What more can I tell you? Afterwards, when I was back at home, I had some letters from her⁠—warm, intelligent, interesting letters. She did not complain, but I felt that she was profoundly unhappy; every line betrayed sick overstrained nerves. And her imagination is a little unhinged. She signed herself the Seagull. In Pushkin’s “Mermaid” the miller says that he is a raven, and in the same way in her letters she kept repeating that she was a seagull. Now she is here. Dorn Here? How do you mean? Treplev In the town, staying at an inn. She has been there for five days. I did go to see her, and Marya Ilyinishna here went too, but she won’t see anyone. Semyon Semyonitch declares he saw her yesterday afternoon in the fields a mile and a half from here. Medvedenko Yes, I saw her. She went in that direction, towards the town. I bowed to her and asked her why she did not come to see us. She said she would come. Treplev She won’t come a pause. Her father and stepmother refuse to recognise her. They have put watchmen about so that she may not even go near the house walks away with the doctor towards the writing table. How easy it is to be a philosopher on paper, doctor, and how difficult it is in life! Sorin She was a charming girl. Dorn What? Sorin She was a charming girl, I say. Actual Civil Councillor Sorin was positively in love with her for a time. Dorn The old Lovelace. Shamraev’s laugh is heard. Polina I fancy our people have come back from the station.⁠ ⁠… Treplev Yes, I hear mother. Enter Madame Arkadin, Trigorin and with them Shamraev. Shamraev As he enters. We all grow old and dilapidated under the influence of the elements, while you, honoured lady, are still young⁠ ⁠… a light blouse, sprightliness, grace.⁠ ⁠… Madame Arkadin You want to bring me ill-luck again, you tiresome man! Trigorin How do you do, Pyotr Nikolayevitch! So you are still poorly? That’s bad! Seeing Masha, joyfully. Marya Ilyinishna! Masha You know me, do you? Shakes hands. Trigorin Married? Masha Long ago. Trigorin Are you happy? Bows to Dorn and Medvedenko, then hesitatingly approaches Treplev. Irina Nikolayevna has told me that you have forgotten the past and are no longer angry. Treplev holds out his hand. Madame Arkadin To her son. Boris Alexeyevitch has brought the magazine with your new story in it. Treplev Taking the magazine, to Trigorin. Thank you, you are very kind. They sit down. Trigorin Your admirers send their greetings to you.⁠ ⁠… In Petersburg and Moscow there is great interest in your work and I am continually being asked questions about you. People ask what you are like, how old you are, whether you are dark or fair. Everyone imagines, for some reason, that you are no longer young. And no one knows your real name, as you always publish under a pseudonym. You are as mysterious as the Iron Mask. Treplev Will you be able to make a long stay? Trigorin No, I think I must go back to Moscow tomorrow. I am obliged to. I am in a hurry to finish my novel, and besides, I have promised something for a collection of tales that is being published. It’s the old story, in fact. While they are talking Madame Arkadin and Polina Andreyevna put a card-table in the middle of the room and open it out. Shamraev lights candles and sets chairs. A game of loto is brought out of the cupboard. Trigorin The weather has not given me a friendly welcome. There is a cruel wind. If it has dropped by tomorrow morning I shall go to the lake to fish. And I must have a look at the garden and that place where⁠—you remember?⁠—your play was acted. I’ve got a subject for a story, I only want to revive my recollections of the scene in which it is laid. Masha To her father. Father, let my husband have a horse! He must get home. Shamraev Mimicking. Must get