Paulina.  Constantine is playing again; the poor boy is sad.

Shamraeff.  He has been severely criticised in the papers.

Masha.  Seventy-seven.

Arkadina.  They want to attract attention to him.

Trigorin.  He doesn’t seem able to make a success, he can’t somehow strike the right note.  There is an odd vagueness about his writings that sometimes verges on delirium.  He has never created a single living character.

Masha.  Eleven.

Arkadina.  Are you bored, Peter? [A pause] He is asleep.

Dorn.  The Councillor is taking a nap.

Masha.  Seven.  Ninety.

Trigorin.  Do you think I should write if I lived in such a place as this, on the shore of this lake?  Never!  I should overcome my passion, and give my life up to the catching of fish.

Masha.  Twenty-eight.

Trigorin.  And if I caught a perch or a bass, what bliss it would be!

Dorn.  I have great faith in Constantine.  I know there is something in him.  He thinks in images; his stories are vivid and full of colour, and always affect me deeply.  It is only a pity that he has no definite object in view.  He creates impressions, and nothing more, and one cannot go far on impressions alone.  Are you glad, madam, that you have an author for a son?

Arkadina.  Just think, I have never read anything of his; I never have time.

Masha.  Twenty-six.

TREPLIEFF comes in quietly and sits down at his table.

Shamraeff. [To Trigorin] We have something here that belongs to you, sir.

Trigorin.  What is it?

Shamraeff.  You told me to have the sea-gull stuffed that Mr. Constantine killed some time ago.

Trigorin.  Did I? [Thoughtfully] I don’t remember.

Masha.  Sixty-one.  One.

TREPLIEFF throws open the window and stands listening.

TREPLIEFF.  How dark the night is!  I wonder what makes me so restless.

Arkadina.  Shut the window, Constantine, there is a draught here.

TREPLIEFF shuts the window.

Masha.  Ninety-eight.

Trigorin.  See, my card is full.

Arkadina. [Gaily] Bravo!  Bravo!

Shamraeff.  Bravo!

Arkadina.  Wherever he goes and whatever he does, that man always has good luck. [She gets up] And now, come to supper.  Our renowned guest did not have any dinner to-day.  We can continue our game later. [To her son] Come, Constantine, leave your writing and come to supper.

TREPLIEFF.  I don’t want anything to eat, mother; I am not hungry.

Arkadina.  As you please. [She wakes Sorin] Come to supper, Peter. [She takes SHAMRAEFF’S arm] Let me tell you about my reception in Kharkoff.