my salary of twenty-three roubles a month. We have to
eat and drink, I take it. You wouldn't have us go without tea and sugar,
would you? Or tobacco? Answer me that, if you can.

MASHA. [Looking in the direction of the stage] The play will soon begin.

MEDVIEDENKO. Yes, Nina Zarietchnaya is going to act in Treplieff's play.
They love one another, and their two souls will unite to-night in the
effort to interpret the same idea by different means. There is no ground
on which your soul and mine can meet. I love you. Too restless and sad
to stay at home, I tramp here every day, six miles and back, to be met
only by your indifference. I am poor, my family is large, you can have
no inducement to marry a man who cannot even find sufficient food for
his own mouth.

MASHA. It is not that. [She takes snuff] I am touched by your affection,
but I cannot return it, that is all. [She offers him the snuff-box] Will
you take some?

MEDVIEDENKO. No, thank you. [A pause.]

MASHA. The air is sultry; a storm is brewing for to-night. You do
nothing but moralise or else talk about money. To you, poverty is the
greatest misfortune that can befall a man, but I think it is a thousand
times easier to go begging in rags than to--You wouldn't understand
that, though.

SORIN leaning on a cane, and TREPLIEFF come in.

SORIN. For some reason, my boy, country life doesn't suit me, and I am
sure I shall never get used to it. Last night I went to bed at ten and
woke at nine this morning, feeling as if, from oversleep, my brain had
stuck to my skull. [Laughing] And yet I accidentally dropped off to
sleep again after dinner, and feel utterly done up at this moment. It is
like a nightmare.

TREPLIEFF. There is no doubt that you should live in town. [He catches
sight of MASHA and MEDVIEDENKO] You shall be called when the play
begins, my friends, but you must not stay here now. Go away, please.

SORIN. Miss Masha, will you kindly ask your father to leave the dog
unchained? It howled so last night that my sister was unable to sleep.

MASHA. You must speak to my father yourself. Please excuse me; I can't
do so. [To MEDVIEDENKO] Come, let us go.

MEDVIEDENKO. You will let us know when the play begins?

MASHA and MEDVIEDENKO go out.

SORIN. I foresee that that dog is going to howl all night again. It is
always this way in the country; I have never been able to live as I like
here. I come down for a month's holiday, to rest and all, and am
plague