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. [Impetuously] Where is Nina?
Dorn. She has gone home.
Treplieff. [In despair] Gone home? What shall I do? I want to see her; I must see her! I shall follow her.
Dorn. My dear boy, keep quiet.
Treplieff. I am going. I must go.
Masha comes in.
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.
Treplieff goes out.
Dorn. [Sighing] Ah, youth, youth!
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. Wait a moment.
Dorn. What do you want?
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
