dding. It is time for you to go to the church.

IVANOFF. Paul, I implore you.

LEBEDIEFF shrugs his shoulders. LEBEDIEFF, ZINAIDA, SHABELSKI, and
MARTHA go out.

SASHA. [Sternly] What do you want?

IVANOFF. I am choking with anger; I cannot speak calmly. Listen to me;
as I was dressing just now for the wedding, I looked in the glass and
saw how grey my temples were. Sasha, this must not be! Let us end this
senseless comedy before it is too late. You are young and pure; you have
all your life before you, but I----

SASHA. The same old story; I have heard it a thousand times and I am
tired of it. Go quickly to the church and don't keep everybody waiting!

IVANOFF. I shall go straight home, and you must explain to your family
somehow that there is to be no wedding. Explain it as you please. It is
time we came to our senses. I have been playing the part of Hamlet and
you have been playing the part of a noble and devoted girl. We have kept
up the farce long enough.

SASHA. [Losing her temper] How can you speak to me like this? I won't
have it.

IVANOFF. But I am speaking, and will continue to speak.

SASHA. What do you mean by coming to me like this? Your melancholy has
become absolutely ridiculous!

IVANOFF. No, this is not melancholy. It is ridiculous, is it? Yes, I am
laughing, and if it were possible for me to laugh at myself a thousand
times more bitterly I should do so and set the whole world laughing,
too, in derision. A fierce light has suddenly broken over my soul; as I
looked into the glass just now, I laughed at myself, and nearly went mad
with shame. [He laughs] Melancholy indeed! Noble grief! Uncontrollable
sorrow! It only remains for me now to begin to write verses! Shall I
mope and complain, sadden everybody I meet, confess that my manhood
has gone forever, that I have decayed, outlived my purpose, that I
have given myself up to cowardice and am bound hand and foot by this
loathsome melancholy? Shall I confess all this when the sun is shining
so brightly and when even the ants are carrying their little burdens in
peaceful self-content? No, thanks. Can I endure the knowledge that one
will look upon me as a fraud, while another pities me, a third lends
me a helping hand, or worst of all, a fourth listens reverently to my
sighs, looks upon me as a new Mahomet, and expects me to expound a new
religion every moment? No, thank God for the pride and conscience he has
left me still. On my way here I laughe