TREPLIEFF. Masha has been yelling for me all over the park. An insufferable creature.
DORN. Constantine, your play delighted me. It was strange, of course, and I did not hear the end, but it made a deep impression on me. You have a great deal of talent, and must persevere in your work.
TREPLIEFF seizes his hand and squeezes it hard, then kisses him impetuously.
DORN. Tut, tut! how excited you are. Your eyes are full of tears. Listen to me. You chose your subject in the realm of abstract thought, and you did quite right. A work of art should invariably embody some lofty idea. Only that which is seriously meant can ever be beautiful. How pale you are!
TREPLIEFF. So you advise me to persevere?
DORN. Yes, but use your talent to express only deep and eternal truths. I have led a quiet life, as you know, and am a contented man, but if I should ever experience the exaltation that an artist feels during his moments of creation, I think I should spurn this material envelope of my soul and everything connected with it, and should soar away into heights above this earth.
TREPLIEFF. I beg your pardon, but where is Nina?
DORN. And yet another thing: every work of art should have a definite object in view. You should know why you are writing, for if you follow the road of art without a goal before your eyes, you will lose yourself, and your genius will be your ruin.
TREPLIEFF. [In despair] Gone home? What shall I do? I want to see her; I must see her! I shall follow her.
MASHA. Your mother wants you to come in, Mr. Constantine. She is waiting for you, and is very uneasy.
TREPLIEFF. Tell her I have gone away. And for heaven’s sake, all of you, leave me alone! Go away! Don’t follow me about!
DORN. Come, come, old chap, don’t act like this; it isn’t kind at all.
TREPLIEFF. [Through his tears] Good-bye, doctor, and thank you.
MASHA. It is always “Youth, youth,” when there is nothing else to be said.
She takes snuff. DORN takes the snuff-box out of her hands and flings it into the bushes.
DORN. Don’t do that, it is horrid. [A pause] I hear music in the house. I must go in.
MASHA. Let me tell you again. I feel like talking. [She grows more and more excited] I do not love my father, but my heart turns to you. For some reason, I feel with all my soul that you are near to me. Help me! Help me, or I shall do something foolish and mock at my life, and ruin it. I am at the end of my strength.