RAKITIN

Perhaps not . . . But since I do watch you from morning till night, may I make one small observation . . . ?

NATALYA

About me? Please do.

RAKITIN

You won’t be angry with me?

NATALYA

Oh, no! I’d like to be, but no.

RAKITIN

Lately, Natalya Petrovna, you’ve been troubled all the time, troubled by something you can’t help, something inside you. It’s as if you’re struggling with yourself, as if you’re bewildered. I hadn’t noticed it before I went to the Krinitsyns’. It’s a recent thing.

Natalya Petrovna traces lines in front of her with her parasol.

You sometimes sigh so deeply . . . the way someone tired sighs, someone very tired, who can’t get any rest.

NATALYA

And what do you conclude from that, mister observer?

RAKITIN

Nothing . . . But it worries me.

NATALYA

I humbly thank you for your concern.

RAKITIN

And besides . . .

NATALYA

(With some impatience) Please let’s change the subject.

Silence.

RAKITIN

Do you plan to go anywhere today?

NATALYA

No.

RAKITIN

Why not? The weather’s nice.

NATALYA

Lazy.

Silence.

Tell me . . . do you know Bolshintsov?

RAKITIN

Our neighbor, Afanasy Ivanych?

NATALYA

Yes.

RAKITIN

What a question! No more than two days ago, he and I were playing cards in your house.

NATALYA

What sort of man is he—that’s what I want to know.

RAKITIN

Bolshintsov?

NATALYA

Yes, yes, Bolshintsov.

RAKITIN

Well, I must say, that’s the last thing I expected!

NATALYA

(Impatiently) What didn’t you expect?

RAKITIN

That you’d ever start asking about Bolshintsov! A stupid, fat, tiresome man—though I can’t say anything really bad about him.

NATALYA

He’s not as stupid and tiresome as you think.

RAKITIN

Perhaps not. I admit I haven’t studied the gentleman that closely.

NATALYA

(Ironically) You haven’t observed him?

RAKITIN

(With a forced smile) And what makes you ask . . .

NATALYA

I just . . .

Again silence.

RAKITIN

Look, Natalya Petrovna, how beautiful that deep green oak is against the deep blue sky. It’s all drowned in the rays of the sun, and what mighty colors . . . There’s so much indestructible life and strength in it, especially compared with that young birch . . . It seems about to dissolve in radiance; its little leaves shine with some liquid glitter, as if they’re melting, and yet it, too, is beautiful . . .

NATALYA

You know what, Rakitin? I noticed it long ago . . . You have a very fine feeling for the so-called beauties of nature, and you speak of them very elegantly, very intelligently . . . so elegantly, so intelligently, that I imagine nature must be unspeakably grateful to you for your refined and fortunate phrases. You chase after her like a perfume-drenched marquis on little red heels after a pretty peasant girl . . . Only here’s the trouble: it sometimes seems to me that she couldn’t possibly understand or appreciate your fine observations, any more than a peasant girl could understand the courtly courtesy of a marquis. Nature is much simpler, even cruder, than you suppose, because, thank God, she’s healthy . . . Birches don’t melt and swoon like nervous ladies.