Chapter 2

Hospital._ Villagers, _male and female, sitting on the hospital steps._

"Excuse me," Pavel Vassilyevitch broke in, "how many acts are there?"

"Five," answered the lady, and at once, as though fearing her audience might escape her, she went on rapidly.

VALENTIN _is looking out of the schoolhouse window. In the background_ Villagers _can be seen taking their goods to the Inn._

Like a man condemned to be executed and convinced of the impossibility of a reprieve, Pavel Vassilyevitch gave up expecting the end, abandoned all hope, and simply tried to prevent his eyes from closing, and to retain an expression of attention on his face. . . . The future when the lady would finish her play and depart seemed to him so remote that he did not even think of it.

"Trooo--too--too--too . . ." the lady's voice sounded in his ears. "Troo--too--too . . . sh--sh--sh--sh . . ."

"I forgot to take my soda," he thought. "What am I thinking about? Oh--my soda. . . . Most likely I shall have a bilious attack. . . . It's extraordinary, Smirnovsky swills vodka all day long and yet he never has a bilious attack. . . . There's a bird settled on the window . . . a sparrow. . . ."

Pavel Vassilyevitch made an effort to unglue his strained and closing eyelids, yawned without opening his mouth, and stared at Mme. Murashkin. She grew misty and swayed before his eyes, turned into a triangle and her head pressed against the ceiling. . . .

VALENTIN No, let me depart.

ANNA _(in dismay)_: Why?

VALENTIN _(aside)_: She has turned pale! _(To her)_ Do not force me to explain. Sooner would I die than you should know the reason.

ANNA _(after a pause)_: You cannot go away. . . .

The lady began to swell, swelled to an immense size, and melted into the dingy atmosphere of the study--only her moving mouth was visible; then she suddenly dwindled to the size of a bottle, swayed from side to side, and with the table retreated to the further end of the room . . .

VALENTIN _(holding ANNA in his arms)_: You have given me new life! You have shown me an object to live for! You have renewed me as the Spring rain renews the awakened earth! But . . . it is too late, too late! The ill that gnaws at my heart is beyond cure. . . .

Pavel Vassilyevitch started and with dim and smarting eyes stared at the reading lady; for a minute he gazed fixedly as though understanding nothing. . . .