IVANOFF. Pray for me, Annie! [He goes; then stops and thinks for a moment] No, I can't do it. [IVANOFF goes out.]
ANNA. Yes, go, go--[Sits down at the table.]
LVOFF. [Walking up and down] Make this a rule, Madam: as soon as the sun goes down you must go indoors and not come out again until morning. The damp evening air is bad for you.
LVOFF. What do you mean by "Yes, sir"? I am speaking seriously.
ANNA. But I don't want to be serious. [She coughs.]
LVOFF. There now, you see, you are coughing already.
SHABELSKI comes out of the house in his hat and coat.
SHABELSKI. Where is Nicholas? Is the carriage here yet? [Goes quickly to ANNA and kisses her hand] Good-night, my darling! [Makes a face and speaks with a Jewish accent] I beg your bardon! [He goes quickly out.]
A pause; the sounds of a concertina are heard in the distance.
ANNA. Oh, how lonely it is! The coachman and the cook are having a little ball in there by themselves, and I--I am, as it were, abandoned. Why are you walking about, Doctor? Come and sit down here.
ANNA. They are playing "The Sparrow" in the kitchen. [She sings]
"Sparrow, Sparrow, where are you? On the mountain drinking dew."
[A pause] Are your father and mother living, Doctor?
LVOFF. My mother is living; my father is dead.
ANNA. [Laughing] The flowers return with every spring, but lost happiness never returns. I wonder who taught me that? I think it was Nicholas himself. [Listens] The owl is hooting again.
ANNA. I have begun to think, Doctor, that fate has cheated me. Other people who, perhaps, are no better than I am are happy and have not had to pay for their happiness. But I have paid for it all, every moment of it, and such a price! Why should I have to pay so terribly? Dear friend, you are all too considerate and gentle with me to tell me the truth; but do you think I don't know what is the matter with me? I know perfectly well. However, this isn't a pleasant subject--[With a Jewish accent] "I beg your bardon!" Can you tell funny stories?
ANNA. Nicholas can. I am beginning to be surprised, too, at the injustice of people. Why do they return hatred for love, and answer truth with lies? Can you tell me how much longer I shall be hated by my mother and father? They live fifty miles away, and yet I can feel their hatred day and night, even in my sleep. And how do you account for the sadness of Nicholas? He says that he only dislikes me in the evening, when the fit is on him. I understand that, and can tolerate it, but what if he should come to dislike me altogether? Of course that is impossible, and yet--no, no, I mustn't even imagine such a thing. [Sings]