Sorin in his chair is wheeled to the left-hand side of the room.  Paulina, Masha, and Dorn sit down beside him.  Medviedenko stands sadly aside.

Dorn.  What a lot of changes you have made here!  You have turned this sitting-room into a library.

Masha.  Constantine likes to work in this room, because from it he can step out into the garden to meditate whenever he feels like it. [The watchman’s rattle is heard.]

Sorin.  Where is my sister?

Dorn.  She has gone to the station to meet Trigorin.  She will soon be back.

Sorin.  I must be dangerously ill if you had to send for my sister. [He falls silent for a moment] A nice business this is!  Here I am dangerously ill, and you won’t even give me any medicine.

Dorn.  What shall I prescribe for you?  Camomile tea?  Soda?  Quinine?

Sorin.  Don’t inflict any of your discussions on me again. [He nods toward the sofa] Is that bed for me?

Paulina.  Yes, for you, sir.

Sorin.  Thank you.

Dorn. [Sings] “The moon swims in the sky to-night.”

Sorin.  I am going to give Constantine an idea for a story.  It shall be called “The Man Who Wished—­L’Homme qui a voulu.”  When I was young, I wished to become an author; I failed.  I wished to be an orator; I speak abominably, [Exciting himself] with my eternal “and all, and all,” dragging each sentence on and on until I sometimes break out into a sweat all over.  I wished to marry, and I didn’t; I wished to live in the city, and here I am ending my days in the country, and all.

Dorn.  You wished to become State Councillor, and—­you are one!

Sorin. [Laughing] I didn’t try for that, it came of its own accord.

Dorn.  Come, you must admit that it is petty to cavil at life at sixty-two years of age.

Sorin.  You are pig-headed!  Can’t you see I want to live?

Dorn.  That is futile.  Nature has commanded that every life shall come to an end.

Sorin.  You speak like a man who is satiated with life.  Your thirst for it is quenched, and so you are calm and indifferent, but even you dread death.

Dorn.  The fear of death is an animal passion which must be overcome.  Only those who believe in a future life and tremble for sins committed, can logically fear death; but you, for one thing, don’t believe in a future life, and for another, you haven’t committed any sins.  You have served as a Councillor for twenty-five years, that is all.

Sorin. [Laughing] Twenty-eight years!

TREPLIEFF comes in and sits down on a stool at SORIN’S feet.  Masha fixes her eyes on his face and never once tears them away.

Dorn.  We are keeping Constantine from his work.

TREPLIEFF.  No matter. [A pause.]