RAKITIN

(With animation) On the contrary . . .

NATALYA

It’s sometimes fun to torment the one you love . . . love . . . Yes, like Tatyana, I can say: “Why pretend?”⁹

RAKITIN

Natalya Petrovna, you . . .

NATALYA

(Interrupting him) Yes . . . I love you. But do you know what, Rakitin? Do you know what sometimes seems strange to me? I love you . . . and that feeling is so serene, so peaceful . . . It doesn’t excite me . . . it warms me, but . . . (With animation) You’ve never made me cry . . . and yet it seems I should have . . . (Interrupting herself) What does it mean?

RAKITIN

(Sadly) Such a question needs no answer.

NATALYA

(Thoughtfully) We’ve known each other a long time.

RAKITIN

Four years. Yes, we’re old friends.

NATALYA

Friends . . . No, you’re more than a friend to me . . .

RAKITIN

Natalya Petrovna, don’t touch on this question . . . I’m afraid—my happiness may vanish under your hands.

NATALYA

No . . . no . . . no. The whole thing is that you’re too kind. You’re too indulgent with me . . . You’ve spoiled me . . . You’re too kind, do you hear?

RAKITIN

(With a smile) I hear, ma’am.

NATALYA

(Looking at him) I don’t know how you . . . I don’t want any other happiness . . . Many women might envy me. (Gives him both her hands) Isn’t that so?

RAKITIN

I’m in your hands . . . do what you like with me . . .

Islaev’s voice is heard in the ballroom: “So you’ve sent for him?”

NATALYA

(Quickly getting up) It’s him! I can’t see him now . . . Good-bye! (Exits to the study)

RAKITIN

(Following her with his eyes) What is it? The beginning of the end, or simply the end? (He pauses briefly) Or the beginning?

Islaev enters, looking preoccupied, and takes off his hat.

ISLAEV

Hello, Michel.

RAKITIN

We already met today.

ISLAEV

Ah! Sorry . . . I’ve been running around all day. (He paces the room) It’s strange. The Russian peasant is very smart, quick-witted, I respect the Russian peasant . . . and yet sometimes you talk to him, explain, explain . . . Seems clear, but it’s no use. The Russian peasant hasn’t got this . . . this . . .

RAKITIN

You’re still fussing over the dam?

ISLAEV

This . . . so to speak . . . this love of work isn’t there . . . it just isn’t there. He won’t let you give him a clear opinion. “Yes, master, yes, master . . .” But what kind of “Yes” is it—he’s simply understood nothing. Take the German—what a difference! The Russian has no patience. Though I respect him, for all that . . . But where’s Natasha? Do you know?

RAKITIN

She was just here.