Natalya Petrovna, forgive me . . . I . . . I don’t know . . . what’s the matter with me, forgive me, don’t be too hard on me . . . (Dissolves in tears and quickly exits through the door to the corridor. Silence)

BELYAEV

(Going to Natalya Petrovna) I assure you, Natalya Petrovna . . .

NATALYA

(Staring fixedly at the floor, holds her arm out in his direction) Stop, Alexei Nikolaich. It’s true . . . Vera’s right . . . It’s time . . . I stopped being devious. I’m guilty before her, before you both . . . you have the right to despise me.

Belyaev makes an involuntary movement.

I’ve lowered myself in my own eyes. I have only one way left to win back your respect: frankness, complete frankness, whatever the consequences. Besides, I’m seeing you now for the last time, talking with you for the last time. I love you. (She still does not look at him)

BELYAEV

You, Natalya Petrovna! . . .

NATALYA

Yes, me. I love you. Vera was not deceived and did not deceive you. I fell in love with you the day you arrived, but I found it out only yesterday. I’m not going to justify my behavior . . . It was unworthy of me . . . but now at least you can understand, you can excuse me. Yes, I was jealous of Vera. Yes, in my mind I married her off to Bolshintsov to get her away from me and from you. Yes, I used the advantages of my age, my position, to wheedle her secret out of her, and—of course, I didn’t expect it—I gave myself away. I love you, Belyaev, but know this: self-respect alone makes me confess it . . . the comedy I’ve been playing up to now revolts me. You can’t stay here . . . However, after what I’ve just told you, you’ll probably feel very awkward with me. You’ll want to go away as soon as you can. I’m sure of it. That assurance makes me bold. I admit, I didn’t want you to go away with a bad memory of me. Now you know everything . . . Maybe I interfered with you . . . maybe if all this hadn’t happened, you’d have fallen in love with Verochka . . . I have only one excuse, Alexei Nikolaich . . . It was out of my control.

She falls silent. She says all this in a very even and calm voice, without looking at Belyaev. He is silent. She goes on with some agitation, still without looking at him.

You don’t say anything? . . . Well, I understand. You have nothing to say to me. If a man who is not in love hears a declaration of love, it’s very painful. I thank you for your silence. Believe me, when I told you . . . that I love you, I was not being devious . . . like before. I wasn’t counting on anything. On the contrary, I wanted, finally, to tear off the mask, which, to be honest, didn’t suit me at all . . . And, then, why go on playacting, when everything’s known? Why pretend, if there’s nobody left to deceive? It’s all over between us now. I’m no longer keeping you. You may leave here without saying a word to me, without even a good-bye. I won’t consider it impolite; on the contrary—I’ll be grateful to you. There are cases in which delicacy is out of place . . . worse than rudeness. We obviously weren’t fated to know each other. Good-bye. Yes, we weren’t fated to know each other . . . but at least I hope that in your eyes I’ve now ceased to be that tyrannical, secretive and devious creature . . . Good-bye forever.