lake dried up and sunk into the earth. You say you are too simple to understand me; but, oh, what is there to understand? You disliked my play, you have no faith in my powers, you already think of me as commonplace and worthless, as many are. [Stamping his foot] How well I can understand your feelings! And that understanding is to me like a dagger in the brain. May it be accursed, together with my stupidity, which sucks my life-blood like a snake! [He sees Trigorin, who approaches reading a book] There comes real genius, striding along like another Hamlet, and with a book, too. [Mockingly] “Words, words, words.” You feel the warmth of that sun already, you smile, your eyes melt and glow liquid in its rays. I shall not disturb you.
Trigorin. [Making notes in his book] Takes snuff and drinks vodka; always wears black dresses; is loved by a school-teacher
Nina. How do you do?
Trigorin. How are you, Miss Nina? Owing to an unforeseen development of circumstances, it seems that we are leaving here to-day. You and I shall probably never see each other again, and I am sorry for it. I seldom meet a young and pretty girl now; I can hardly remember how it feels to be nineteen, and the young girls in my books are seldom living characters. I should like to change places with you, if but for an hour, to look out at the world through your eyes, and so find out what sort of a little person you are.
Nina. And I should like to change places with you.
Trigorin. Why?
Nina. To find out how a famous genius feels. What is it like to be famous? What sensations does it give you?
Trigorin. What sensations? I don’t believe it gives any. [Thoughtfully] Either you exaggerate my fame, or else, if it
