MÍTYA. [_Walks towards the door and takes the letter out of his pocket_] What can she have written? I'm frightened!--My hands tremble!--Well, what is to be will be! I'll read it. [_Reads_] "And I love you. Lyubóv Tortsóv." [_Clutches his head and runs out_. ACT II _Guest-room in the house of_ TORTSÓV. _Against the rear wall a sofa, in front of the sofa a round table and six armchairs, three on each side; in the left corner a door; on each wall a mirror, and under them little tables. A door in each side wall, and a door in the rear wall in the corner. On the stage it is dark; from the left door comes a light._ SCENE I LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA _and_ ANNA IVÁNOVNA _enter through the lighted door._ ANNA IVÁNOVNA. Why don't they come, our fine lads? Shall we go and fetch them? LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. No, you'd better not. Well, yes, if you like, fetch them. [_Embraces her_] Fetch them, Annushka. ANNA IVÁNOVNA. Well, evidently you aren't happy without him! LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. Oh, Annushka, if you only knew how I love him! ANNA IVÁNOVNA. Love him, then, my dear, but don't lose your wits. Don't let him go too far, or you may be sorry for it. Be sure you find out first what sort of a fellow he is. LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. He's a good lad!--I love him very much; he's so quiet, and he's an orphan. ANNA IVÁNOVNA. Well, if he's good, then love him; you ought to know best. I just said that! Many a girl comes to grief because of them. It's easy to get into trouble, if you don't use your sense. LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. What is our love? Like a blade of grass in the field; it blooms out of season--and it fades. ANNA IVÁNOVNA. Wait a moment! Some one's coming, I think. Isn't it he? I'll go and you wait, perhaps it's he! Have a good talk with him. [_She goes out._ MÍTYA _enters._ SCENE II LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA _and_ MÍTYA LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. Who's there? MÍTYA. It's I, Mítya. LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. Why were you so long in coming? MÍTYA. I was detained. [_Approaches_] Lyubóv Gordéyevna, are you alone? LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. Yes, what of it? MÍTYA. Lyubóv Gordéyevna, how do you wish me to understand your letter? Do you mean it, or is it a joke? [LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA _is silent_] Tell me, Lyubóv Gordéyevna! I am now in such perplexity that I cannot express it to you. My position in your house is known to you; subordinate to everybody, and I may say utterly despised by Gordéy Kárpych. I've had only one feeling, that for you, and if I receive ridicule from you, then it would have been better for me never to have lived in this world. You may trust me! I am telling you the truth. LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. No, Mítya dear, what I wrote to you was the truth, and not a joke. And you, do you love me? MÍTYA. Indeed, Lyubóv Gordéyevna, I do not know how to express to you what I feel. But at least let me assure you that I have a heart in my breast, and not a stone. You can see my love from everything. LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. But I thought that you loved Anna Ivánovna. MÍTYA. That is not true!