than ever. I rush home; it still pursues me; and so I am tortured all through the night. It is breaking my heart.
Anna. Nicholas, won’t you stay? We will talk together as we used to. We will have supper together and read afterward. The old grumbler and I have learned so many duets to play to you. [She kisses him. Then, after a pause] I can’t understand you any more. This has been going on for a year now. What has changed you so?
Ivanoff. I don’t know.
Anna. And why don’t you want me to go driving with you in the evening?
Ivanoff. As you insist on knowing, I shall have to tell you. It is a little cruel, but you had best understand. When this melancholy fit is on me I begin to dislike you, Annie, and at such times I must escape from you. In short, I simply have to leave this house.
Anna. Oh, you are sad, are you? I can understand that! Nicholas, let me tell you something: won’t you try to sing and laugh and scold as you used to? Stay here, and we will drink some liqueur together, and laugh, and chase away this sadness of yours in no time. Shall I sing to you? Or shall we sit in your study in the twilight as we used to, while you tell me about your sadness? I can read such suffering in your eyes! Let me look into them and weep, and our hearts will both be lighter. [She laughs and cries at once] Or is it really true that the flowers return with every spring, but lost happiness never returns? Oh, is it? Well, go then, go!
Ivanoff. Pray for me, Annie! [He goes; then stops and thinks for a moment] No, I can’t do it.
Anna. Yes, go, go— [Sits down at the table.
Lvoff. [Walking up and down] Make this a rule, Madam: as soon as the sun goes down you must go indoors and not
