Chapter: ACT IV

_A sitting-room in SORIN'S house, which has been converted into a
writing-room for TREPLIEFF. To the right and left are doors leading into
inner rooms, and in the centre is a glass door opening onto a terrace.
Besides the usual furniture of a sitting-room there is a writing-desk
in the right-hand corner of the room. There is a Turkish divan near the
door on the left, and shelves full of books stand against the walls.
Books are lying scattered about on the windowsills and chairs. It is
evening. The room is dimly lighted by a shaded lamp on a table. The wind
moans in the tree tops and whistles down the chimney. The watchman in
the garden is heard sounding his rattle. MEDVIEDENKO and MASHA come in_.

MASHA. [Calling TREPLIEFF] Mr. Constantine, where are you? [Looking
about her] There is no one here. His old uncle is forever asking for
Constantine, and can't live without him for an instant.

MEDVIEDENKO. He dreads being left alone. [Listening to the wind] This is
a wild night. We have had this storm for two days.

MASHA. [Turning up the lamp] The waves on the lake are enormous.

MEDVIEDENKO. It is very dark in the garden. Do you know, I think that
old theatre ought to be knocked down. It is still standing there, naked
and hideous as a skeleton, with the curtain flapping in the wind. I
thought I heard a voice weeping in it as I passed there last night.

MASHA. What an idea! [A pause.]

MEDVIEDENKO. Come home with me, Masha.

MASHA. [Shaking her head] I shall spend the night here.

MEDVIEDENKO. [Imploringly] Do come, Masha. The baby must be hungry.

MASHA. Nonsense, Matriona will feed it. [A pause.]

MEDVIEDENKO. It is a pity to leave him three nights without his mother.

MASHA. You are getting too tiresome. You used sometimes to talk of other
things besides home and the baby, home and the baby. That is all I ever
hear from you now.

MEDVIEDENKO. Come home, Masha.

MASHA. You can go home if you want to.

MEDVIEDENKO. Your father won't give me a horse.

MASHA. Yes, he will; ask him.

MEDVIEDENKO. I think I shall. Are you coming home to-morrow?

MASHA. Yes, yes, to-morrow.

She takes snuff. TREPLIEFF and PAULINA come in. TREPLIEFF is carrying
some pillows and a blanket, and PAULINA is carrying sheets and pillow
cases. They lay them on the divan, and TREPLIEFF goes and sits down at
his desk.

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 succeeded at last in scraping together one thousand roubles,
all of which went, not long ago, in a trip which I took abroad. I
haven't a penny.

MASHA. [To her husband] So you didn't go home after all?

MEDVIEDENKO. [Apologetically] How can I go home when they won't give me
a horse?

MASHA. [Under her breath, with bitter anger] Would I might never see
your face again!

SORIN in his chair is wheeled to the left-hand side of the room.
PAULINA, MASHA, and DORN sit down beside him. MEDVIEDENKO stands sadly
aside.

DORN. What a lot of changes you have made here! You have turned this
sitting-room into a library.

MASHA. Constantine likes to work in this room, because from it he can
step out into the garden to meditate whenever he feels like it. [The
watchman's rattle is heard.]

SORIN. Where is my sister?

DORN. She has gone to the station to meet Trigorin. She will soon be
back.

SORIN. I must be dangerously ill if you had to send for my sister.
[He falls silent for a moment] A nice business this is! Here I am
dangerously ill, and you won't even give me any medicine.

DORN. What shall I prescribe for you? Camomile tea? Soda? Quinine?

SORIN. Don't inflict any of your discussions on me again. [He nods
toward the sofa] Is that bed for me?

PAULINA. Yes, for you, sir.

SORIN. Thank you.

DORN. [Sings] "The moon swims in the sky to-night."

SORIN. I am going to give Constantine an idea for a story. It shall be
called "The Man Who Wished--L'Homme qui a voulu." When I was young, I
wished to become an author; I failed. I wished to be an orator; I speak
abominably, [Exciting himself] with my eternal "and all, and all,"
dragging each sentence on and on until I sometimes break out into a
sweat all over. I wished to marry, and I didn't; I wished to live in the
city, and here I am ending my days in the country, and all.

DORN. You wished to become State Councillor, and--you are one!

SORIN. [Laughing] I didn't try for that, it came of its own accord.

DORN. Come, you must admit that it is petty to cavil at life at
sixty-two years of age.

SORIN. You are pig-headed! Can't you see I want to live?

DORN. That is futile. Nature has commanded that every life shall come to
an end.

SORIN. You speak like a man who is satiated with life. Your thirst for
it is quenched, and so you are calm and indifferent, but even you dread
death.

DORN. The fear of death is an animal passion which must be overcome.
Only those who believe in a future life and tremble for sins committed,
can logically fear death; but you, for one thing, don't believe in a
future life, and for another, you haven't committed any sins. You have
served as a Councillor for twenty-five years, that is all.

SORIN. [Laughing] Twenty-eight years!

TREPLIEFF comes in and sits down on a stool at SORIN'S feet. MASHA fixes
her eyes on his face and never once tears them away.

DORN. We are keeping Constantine from his work.

TREPLIEFF. No matter. [A pause.]

MEDVIEDENKO. Of all the cities you visited when you were abroad, Doctor,
which one did you like the best?

DORN. Genoa.

TREPLIEFF. Why Genoa?

DORN. Because there is such a splendid crowd in its streets. When you
leave the hotel in the evening, and throw yourself into the heart of
that throng, and move with it without aim or object, swept along, hither
and thither, their life seems to be yours, their soul flows into you,
and you begin to believe at last in a great world spirit, like the one
in your play that Nina Zarietchnaya acted. By the way, where is Nina
now? Is she well?

TREPLIEFF. I believe so.

DORN. I hear she has led rather a strange life; what happened?

TREPLIEFF. It is a long story, Doctor.

DORN. Tell it shortly. [A pause.]

TREPLIEFF. She ran away from home and joined Trigorin; you know that?

DORN. Yes.

TREPLIEFF. She had a child that died. Trigorin soon tired of her and
returned to his former ties, as might have been expected. He had
never broken them, indeed, but out of weakness of character had always
vacillated between the two. As far as I can make out from what I have
heard, Nina's domestic life has not been altogether a success.

DORN. What about her acting?

TREPLIEFF. I believe she made an even worse failure of that. She made
her debut on the stage of the Summer Theatre in Moscow, and afterward
made a tour of the country towns. At that time I never let her out of my
sight, and wherever she went I followed. She always attempted great
and difficult parts, but her delivery was harsh and monotonous, and her
gestures heavy and crude. She shrieked and died well at times, but those
were but moments.

DORN. Then she really has a talent for acting?

TREPLIEFF. I never could make out. I believe she has. I saw her, but she
refused to see me, and her servant would never admit me to her rooms. I
appreciated her feelings, and did not insist upon a meeting. [A pause]
What more can I tell you? She sometimes writes to me now that I have
come home, such clever, sympathetic letters, full of warm feeling. She
never complains, but I can tell that she is profoundly unhappy; not a
line but speaks to me of an aching, breaking nerve. She has one strange
fancy; she always signs herself "The Sea-gull." The miller in "Rusalka"
called himself "The Crow," and so she repeats in all her letters that
she is a sea-gull. She is here now.

DORN. What do you mean by "here?"

TREPLIEFF. In the village, at the inn. She has been there for five days.
I should have gone to see her, but Masha here went, and she refuses to
see any one. Some one told me she had been seen wandering in the fields
a mile from here yesterday evening.

MEDVIEDENKO. Yes, I saw her. She was walking away from here in the
direction of the village. I asked her why she had not been to see us.
She said she would come.

TREPLIEFF. But she won't. [A pause] Her father and stepmother have
disowned her. They have even put watchmen all around their estate to
keep her away. [He goes with the doctor toward the desk] How easy it is,
Doctor, to be a philosopher on paper, and how difficult in real life!

SORIN. She was a beautiful girl. Even the State Councillor himself was
in love with her for a time.

DORN. You old Lovelace, you!

SHAMRAEFF'S laugh is heard.

PAULINA. They are coming back from the station.

TREPLIEFF. Yes, I hear my mother's voice.

ARKADINA and TRIGORIN come in, followed by SHAMRAEFF.

SHAMRAEFF. We all grow old and wither, my lady, while you alone, with
your light dress, your gay spirits, and your grace, keep the secret of
eternal youth.

ARKADINA. You are still trying to turn my head, you tiresome old man.

TRIGORIN. [To SORIN] How do you do, Peter? What, still ill? How silly of
you! [With evident pleasure, as he catches sight of MASHA] How are you,
Miss Masha?

MASHA. So you recognised me? [She shakes hands with him.]

TRIGORIN. Did you marry him?

MASHA. Long ago.

TRIGORIN. You are happy now? [He bows to DORN and MEDVIEDENKO, and then
goes hesitatingly toward TREPLIEFF] Your mother says you have forgotten
the past and are no longer angry with me.

TREPLIEFF gives him his hand.

ARKADINA. [To her son] Here is a magazine that Boris has brought you
with your latest story in it.

TREPLIEFF. [To TRIGORIN, as he takes the magazine] Many thanks; you are
very kind.

TRIGORIN. Your admirers all send you their regards. Every one in Moscow
and St. Petersburg is interested in you, and all ply me with questions
about you. They ask me what you look like, how old you are, whether you
are fair or dark. For some reason they all think that you are no longer
young, and no one knows who you are, as you always write under an
assumed name. You are as great a mystery as the Man in the Iron Mask.

TREPLIEFF. Do you expect to be here long?

TRIGORIN. No, I must go back to Moscow to-morrow. I am finishing another
novel, and have promised something to a magazine besides. In fact, it is
the same old business.

During their conversation ARKADINA and PAULINA have put up a card-table
in the centre of the room; SHAMRAEFF lights the candles and arranges the
chairs, then fetches a box of lotto from the cupboard.

TRIGORIN. The weather has given me a rough welcome. The wind is
frightful. If it goes down by morning I shall go fishing in the
lake, and shall have a look at the garden and the spot--do you
remember?--where your play was given. I remember the piece very well,
but should like to see again where the scene was laid.

MASHA. [To her father] Father, do please let my husband have a horse. He
ought to go home.

SHAMRAEFF. [Angrily] A horse to go home with! [Sternly] You know the
horses have just been to the station. I can't send them out again.

MASHA. But there are other horses. [Seeing that her father remains
silent] You are impossible!

MEDVIEDENKO. I shall go on foot, Masha.

PAULINA. [With a sigh] On foot in this weather? [She takes a seat at the
card-table] Shall we begin?

MEDVIEDENKO. It is only six miles. Good-bye. [He kisses his wife's
hand;] Good-bye, mother. [His mother-in-law gives him her hand
unwillingly] I should not have troubled you all, but the baby--[He bows
to every one] Good-bye. [He goes out with an apologetic air.]

SHAMRAEFF. He will get there all right, he is not a major-general.

PAULINA. Come, let us begin. Don't let us waste time, we shall soon be
called to supper.

SHAMRAEFF, MASHA, and DORN sit down at the card-table.

ARKADINA. [To TRIGORIN] When the long autumn evenings descend on us we
while away the time here by playing lotto. Look at this old set; we used
it when our mother played with us as children. Don't you want to take a
hand in the game with us until supper time? [She and TRIGORIN sit down
at the table] It is a monotonous game, but it is all right when one gets
used to it. [She deals three cards to each of the players.]

TREPLIEFF. [Looking through the pages of the magazine] He has read his
own story, and hasn't even cut the pages of mine.

He lays the magazine on his desk and goes toward the door on the right,
stopping as he passes his mother to give her a kiss.

ARKADINA. Won't you play, Constantine?

TREPLIEFF. No, excuse me please, I don't feel like it. I am going to
take a turn through the rooms. [He goes out.]

MASHA. Are you all ready? I shall begin: twenty-two.

ARKADINA. Here it is.

MASHA. Three.

DORN. Right.

MASHA. Have you put down three? Eight. Eighty-one. Ten.

SHAMRAEFF. Don't go so fast.

ARKADINA. Could you believe it? I am still dazed by the reception they
gave me in Kharkoff.

MASHA. Thirty-four. [The notes of a melancholy waltz are heard.]

ARKADINA. The students gave me an ovation; they sent me three baskets of
flowers, a wreath, and this thing here.

She unclasps a brooch from her breast and lays it on the table.

SHAMRAEFF. There is something worth while!

MASHA. Fifty.

DORN. Fifty, did you say?

ARKADINA. I wore a perfectly magnificent dress; I am no fool when it
comes to clothes.

PAULINA. Constantine is playing again; the poor boy is sad.

SHAMRAEFF. He has been severely criticised in the papers.

MASHA. Seventy-seven.

ARKADINA. They want to attract attention to him.

TRIGORIN. He doesn't seem able to make a success, he can't somehow
strike the right note. There is an odd vagueness about his writings
that sometimes verges on delirium. He has never created a single living
character.

MASHA. Eleven.

ARKADINA. Are you bored, Peter? [A pause] He is asleep.

DORN. The Councillor is taking a nap.

MASHA. Seven. Ninety.

TRIGORIN. Do you think I should write if I lived in such a place as
this, on the shore of this lake? Never! I should overcome my passion,
and give my life up to the catching of fish.

MASHA. Twenty-eight.

TRIGORIN. And if I caught a perch or a bass, what bliss it would be!

DORN. I have great faith in Constantine. I know there is something in
him. He thinks in images; his stories are vivid and full of colour,
and always affect me deeply. It is only a pity that he has no definite
object in view. He creates impressions, and nothing more, and one cannot
go far on impressions alone. Are you glad, madam, that you have an
author for a son?

ARKADINA. Just think, I have never read anything of his; I never have
time.

MASHA. Twenty-six.

TREPLIEFF comes in quietly and sits down at his table.

SHAMRAEFF. [To TRIGORIN] We have something here that belongs to you,
sir.

TRIGORIN. What is it?

SHAMRAEFF. You told me to have the sea-gull stuffed that Mr. Constantine
killed some time ago.

TRIGORIN. Did I? [Thoughtfully] I don't remember.

MASHA. Sixty-one. One.

TREPLIEFF throws open the window and stands listening.

TREPLIEFF. How dark the night is! I wonder what makes me so restless.

ARKADINA. Shut the window, Constantine, there is a draught here.

TREPLIEFF shuts the window.

MASHA. Ninety-eight.

TRIGORIN. See, my card is full.

ARKADINA. [Gaily] Bravo! Bravo!

SHAMRAEFF. Bravo!

ARKADINA. Wherever he goes and whatever he does, that man always has
good luck. [She gets up] And now, come to supper. Our renowned guest did
not have any dinner to-day. We can continue our game later. [To her son]
Come, Constantine, leave your writing and come to supper.

TREPLIEFF. I don't want anything to eat, mother; I am not hungry.

ARKADINA. As you please. [She wakes SORIN] Come to supper, Peter. [She
takes SHAMRAEFF'S arm] Let me tell you about my reception in Kharkoff.

PAULINA blows out the candles on the table, then she and DORN roll
SORIN'S chair out of the room, and all go out through the door on the
left, except TREPLIEFF, who is left alone. TREPLIEFF prepares to write.
He runs his eye over what he has already written.

TREPLIEFF. I have talked a great deal about new forms of art, but I feel
myself gradually slipping into the beaten track. [He reads] "The
placard cried it from the wall--a pale face in a frame of dusky
hair"--cried--frame--that is stupid. [He scratches out what he has
written] I shall begin again from the place where my hero is wakened by
the noise of the rain, but what follows must go. This description of a
moonlight night is long and stilted. Trigorin has worked out a process
of his own, and descriptions are easy for him. He writes that the neck
of a broken bottle lying on the bank glittered in the moonlight, and
that the shadows lay black under the mill-wheel. There you have a
moonlight night before your eyes, but I speak of the shimmering light,
the twinkling stars, the distant sounds of a piano melting into the
still and scented air, and the result is abominable. [A pause] The
conviction is gradually forcing itself upon me that good literature is
not a question of forms new or old, but of ideas that must pour freely
from the author's heart, without his bothering his head about any forms
whatsoever. [A knock is heard at the window nearest the table] What was
that? [He looks out of the window] I can't see anything. [He opens the
glass door and looks out into the garden] I heard some one run down
the steps. [He calls] Who is there? [He goes out, and is heard walking
quickly along the terrace. In a few minutes he comes back with NINA
ZARIETCHNAYA] Oh, Nina, Nina!

NINA lays her head on TREPLIEFF'S breast and stifles her sobs.

TREPLIEFF. [Deeply moved] Nina, Nina! It is you--you! I felt you would
come; all day my heart has been aching for you. [He takes off her hat
and cloak] My darling, my beloved has come back to me! We mustn't cry,
we mustn't cry.

NINA. There is some one here.

TREPLIEFF. No one is here.

NINA. Lock the door, some one might come.

TREPLIEFF. No one will come in.

NINA. I know your mother is here. Lock the door.

TREPLIEFF locks the door on the right and comes back to NINA.

TREPLIEFF. There is no lock on that one. I shall put a chair against
it. [He puts an arm-chair against the door] Don't be frightened, no one
shall come in.

NINA. [Gazing intently into his face] Let me look at you. [She looks
about her] It is warm and comfortable in here. This used to be a
sitting-room. Have I changed much?

TREPLIEFF. Yes, you have grown thinner, and your eyes are larger than
they were. Nina, it seems so strange to see you! Why didn't you let me
go to you? Why didn't you come sooner to me? You have been here nearly a
week, I know. I have been several times each day to where you live, and
have stood like a beggar beneath your window.

NINA. I was afraid you might hate me. I dream every night that you look
at me without recognising me. I have been wandering about on the shores
of the lake ever since I came back. I have often been near your house,
but I have never had the courage to come in. Let us sit down. [They sit
down] Let us sit down and talk our hearts out. It is so quiet and warm
in here. Do you hear the wind whistling outside? As Turgenieff says,
"Happy is he who can sit at night under the roof of his home, who has a
warm corner in which to take refuge." I am a sea-gull--and yet--no.
[She passes her hand across her forehead] What was I saying? Oh, yes,
Turgenieff. He says, "and God help all houseless wanderers." [She sobs.]

TREPLIEFF. Nina! You are crying again, Nina!

NINA. It is all right. I shall feel better after this. I have not cried
for two years. I went into the garden last night to see if our old
theatre were still standing. I see it is. I wept there for the first
time in two years, and my heart grew lighter, and my soul saw more
clearly again. See, I am not crying now. [She takes his hand in hers]
So you are an author now, and I am an actress. We have both been sucked
into the whirlpool. My life used to be as happy as a child's; I used to
wake singing in the morning; I loved you and dreamt of fame, and what is
the reality? To-morrow morning early I must start for Eltz by train in
a third-class carriage, with a lot of peasants, and at Eltz the educated
trades-people will pursue me with compliments. It is a rough life.

TREPLIEFF. Why are you going to Eltz?

NINA. I have accepted an engagement there for the winter. It is time for
me to go.

TREPLIEFF. Nina, I have cursed you, and hated you, and torn up your
photograph, and yet I have known every minute of my life that my heart
and soul were yours for ever. To cease from loving you is beyond my
power. I have suffered continually from the time I lost you and began
to write, and my life has been almost unendurable. My youth was suddenly
plucked from me then, and I seem now to have lived in this world for
ninety years. I have called out to you, I have kissed the ground you
walked on, wherever I looked I have seen your face before my eyes, and
the smile that had illumined for me the best years of my life.

NINA. [Despairingly] Why, why does he talk to me like this?

TREPLIEFF. I am quite alone, unwarmed by any attachment. I am as cold
as if I were living in a cave. Whatever I write is dry and gloomy and
harsh. Stay here, Nina, I beseech you, or else let me go away with you.

NINA quickly puts on her coat and hat.

TREPLIEFF. Nina, why do you do that? For God's sake, Nina! [He watches
her as she dresses. A pause.]

NINA. My carriage is at the gate. Do not come out to see me off. I shall
find the way alone. [Weeping] Let me have some water.

TREPLIEFF hands her a glass of water.

TREPLIEFF. Where are you going?

NINA. Back to the village. Is your mother here?

TREPLIEFF. Yes, my uncle fell ill on Thursday, and we telegraphed for
her to come.

NINA. Why do you say that you have kissed the ground I walked on? You
should kill me rather. [She bends over the table] I am so tired. If I
could only rest--rest. [She raises her head] I am a sea-gull--no--no,
I am an actress. [She hears ARKADINA and TRIGORIN laughing in the
distance, runs to the door on the left and looks through the keyhole] He
is there too. [She goes back to TREPLIEFF] Ah, well--no matter. He
does not believe in the theatre; he used to laugh at my dreams, so that
little by little I became down-hearted and ceased to believe in it too.
Then came all the cares of love, the continual anxiety about my little
one, so that I soon grew trivial and spiritless, and played my parts
without meaning. I never knew what to do with my hands, and I could not
walk properly or control my voice. You cannot imagine the state of mind
of one who knows as he goes through a play how terribly badly he is
acting. I am a sea-gull--no--no, that is not what I meant to say. Do you
remember how you shot a seagull once? A man chanced to pass that way and
destroyed it out of idleness. That is an idea for a short story, but it
is not what I meant to say. [She passes her hand across her forehead]
What was I saying? Oh, yes, the stage. I have changed now. Now I am a
real actress. I act with joy, with exaltation, I am intoxicated by it,
and feel that I am superb. I have been walking and walking, and thinking
and thinking, ever since I have been here, and I feel the strength of
my spirit growing in me every day. I know now, I understand at last,
Constantine, that for us, whether we write or act, it is not the honour
and glory of which I have dreamt that is important, it is the strength
to endure. One must know how to bear one's cross, and one must have
faith. I believe, and so do not suffer so much, and when I think of my
calling I do not fear life.

TREPLIEFF. [Sadly] You have found your way, you know where you are
going, but I am still groping in a chaos of phantoms and dreams, not
knowing whom and what end I am serving by it all. I do not believe in
anything, and I do not know what my calling is.

NINA. [Listening] Hush! I must go. Good-bye. When I have become a
famous actress you must come and see me. Will you promise to come? But
now--[She takes his hand] it is late. I can hardly stand. I am fainting.
I am hungry.

TREPLIEFF. Stay, and let me bring you some supper.

NINA. No, no--and don't come out, I can find the way alone. My carriage
is not far away. So she brought him back with her? However, what
difference can that make to me? Don't tell Trigorin anything when you
see him. I love him--I love him even more than I used to. It is an idea
for a short story. I love him--I love him passionately--I love him to
despair. Have you forgotten, Constantine, how pleasant the old times
were? What a gay, bright, gentle, pure life we led? How a feeling as
sweet and tender as a flower blossomed in our hearts? Do you remember,
[She recites] "All men and beasts, lions, eagles, and quails, horned
stags, geese, spiders, silent fish that inhabit the waves, starfish from
the sea, and creatures invisible to the eye--in one word, life--all, all
life, completing the dreary round set before it, has died out at last.
A thousand years have passed since the earth last bore a living creature
on its breast, and the unhappy moon now lights her lamp in vain. No
longer are the cries of storks heard in the meadows, or the drone of
beetles in the groves of limes----"

She embraces TREPLIEFF impetuously and runs out onto the terrace.

TREPLIEFF. [After a pause] It would be a pity if she were seen in the
garden. My mother would be distressed.

He stands for several minutes tearing up his manuscripts and throwing
them under the table, then unlocks the door on the right and goes out.

DORN. [Trying to force open the door on the left] Odd! This door seems
to be locked. [He comes in and puts the chair back in its former place]
This is like a hurdle race.

ARKADINA and PAULINA come in, followed by JACOB carrying some bottles;
then come MASHA, SHAMRAEFF, and TRIGORIN.

ARKADINA. Put the claret and the beer here, on the table, so that we can
drink while we are playing. Sit down, friends.

PAULINA. And bring the tea at once.

She lights the candles and takes her seat at the card-table. SHAMRAEFF
leads TRIGORIN to the cupboard.

SHAMRAEFF. Here is the stuffed sea-gull I was telling you about. [He
takes the sea-gull out of the cupboard] You told me to have it done.

TRIGORIN. [looking at the bird] I don't remember a thing about it, not a
thing. [A shot is heard. Every one jumps.]

ARKADINA. [Frightened] What was that?

DORN. Nothing at all; probably one of my medicine bottles has blown up.
Don't worry. [He goes out through the door on the right, and comes back
in a few moments] It is as I thought, a flask of ether has exploded. [He
sings]

"Spellbound once more I stand before thee."

ARKADINA. [Sitting down at the table] Heavens! I was really frightened.
That noise reminded me of--[She covers her face with her hands]
Everything is black before my eyes.

DORN. [Looking through the pages of a magazine, to TRIGORIN] There was
an article from America in this magazine about two months ago that I
wanted to ask you about, among other things. [He leads TRIGORIN to the
front of the stage] I am very much interested in this question. [He
lowers his voice and whispers] You must take Madame Arkadina away from
here; what I wanted to say was, that Constantine has shot himself.

The curtain falls.

 It's two years later. We're back at Sorin's house, in the parlor. It's evening. Masha and Medvedenko enter. Medvedenko wants to go home, but Masha refuses. She's fine leaving their baby on his own. She really doesn't want to spend time with her family. Konstantin and Paulina enter, setting up a bed for Sorin in Konstantin's room. Paulina makes chitchat with Konstantin, who is now a real, money-earning writer. She wishes he would be nicer to her daughter Masha. The girl still has a crush on him. Konstantin gets up and goes out, uninterested in engaging in this line of conversation. Paulina and Masha talk about unrequited love. Masha still thinks that if she leaves, she can finally get over Konstantin. Medvedenko and Dorn enter, pushing Sorin, who is now in a wheelchair. Medvedenko hasn't left yet because Shamrayev won't give him a horse. Masha's annoyed. A conversation about Sorin's health. Dorn still won't give him medicine. He says Sorin shouldn't fear death. The philosophical doctor reflects on his favorite city, Genoa. Because of the crowds. Nina comes up in conversation, and Konstantin gives the report. She became an actress; had a baby by Trigorin. The writer abandoned her and the baby died. Her career has faltered. She's been writing to Konstantin--and now she's actually in town. Arkadina, Trigorin, and Shamrayev enter. Everyone reunites. Trigorin congratulates Konstantin on his new success. He's a little chattier than he was at the beginning of the play. Konstantin can barely tolerate it. Medvedenko finally leaves--without a horse. He'll walk four miles in the rain. Everyone sits down to play cards, but Konstantin leaves the room. He plays a melancholy waltz offstage while the others gossip about his bad reviews. After the card game, everyone leaves and Konstantin is left alone to write. Nina enters. Konstantin is ecstatic to see her. They catch up. Nina's nerves are obviously frail; as she talks she keeps reverting to the phrase "I'm the seagull." Headed to a small town for some theater work, she can only stay for a moment. Konstantin wants her to stay for good. Through the door, Nina hears Trigorin's voice. She still loves him. Once Nina exits, Konstantin tears up his manuscripts. He goes into another room. The party returns with a game and some drinks, but from offstage comes the sound of a gunshot. Dorn runs off to investigate, inventing an excuse. He returns instantly and tells Trigorin to somehow get Arkadina out of there. Konstantin has shot himself. Ugh. Thanks, Chekhov. That was uplifting.

