Trigorin. And I am sorry to leave.
Masha. You should ask her to stay.
Trigorin. She would not do that now. Her son has been behaving outrageously. First he attempted suicide, and now I hear he is going to challenge me to a duel, though what his provocation may be I can’t imagine. He is always sulking and sneering and preaching about a new form of art, as if the field of art were not large enough to accommodate both old and new without the necessity of jostling.
Masha. It is jealousy. However, that is none of my business. [A pause. Jacob walks through the room carrying a trunk; Nina comes in and stands, by the window] That school-teacher of mine is none too clever, but he is very good, poor man, and he loves me dearly, and I am sorry for him. However, let me say good-bye and wish you a pleasant journey. Remember me kindly in your thoughts. [She shakes hands with him] Thanks for your goodwill. Send me your books, and be sure to write something in them; nothing formal, but simply this: “To Masha, who, forgetful of her origin, for some unknown reason is living in this world.” Good-bye.
Nina. [Holding out her closed hand to Trigorin] Is it odd or even?
Trigorin. Even.
Nina. [With a sigh] No, it is odd. I had only one pea in my hand. I wanted to see whether I was to become an actress or not. If only some one would advise me what to do!
Trigorin. One cannot give advice in a case like this.
Nina. We shall soon part, perhaps never to meet again. I should like you to accept this little medallion as a remembrance of me. I have had your initials engraved on it, and
