CHARLOTTA. [Thoughtfully] I haven’t a real passport. I don’t know how old I am, and I think I’m young. When I was a little girl my father and mother used to go round fairs and give very good performances and I used to do the _salto mortale_ and various little things. And when papa and mamma died a German lady took me to her and began to teach me. I liked it. I grew up and became a governess. And where I came from and who I am, I don’t know.... Who my parents were--perhaps they weren’t married--I don’t know. [Takes a cucumber out of her pocket and eats] I don’t know anything. [Pause] I do want to talk, but I haven’t anybody to talk to... I haven’t anybody at all. EPIKHODOV. [Plays on the guitar and sings] “What is this noisy earth to me, What matter friends and foes?” I do like playing on the mandoline! DUNYASHA. That’s a guitar, not a mandoline. [Looks at herself in a little mirror and powders herself.] EPIKHODOV. For the enamoured madman, this is a mandoline. [Sings] “Oh that the heart was warmed, By all the flames of love returned!” [YASHA sings too.] CHARLOTTA. These people sing terribly.... Foo! Like jackals. DUNYASHA. [To YASHA] Still, it must be nice to live abroad. YASHA. Yes, certainly. I cannot differ from you there. [Yawns and lights a cigar.] EPIKHODOV. That is perfectly natural. Abroad everything is in full complexity. YASHA. That goes without saying. EPIKHODOV. I’m an educated man, I read various remarkable books, but I cannot understand the direction I myself want to go--whether to live or to shoot myself, as it were. So, in case, I always carry a revolver about with me. Here it is. [Shows a revolver.] CHARLOTTA. I’ve done. Now I’ll go. [Slings the rifle] You, Epikhodov, are a very clever man and very terrible; women must be madly in love with you. Brrr! [Going] These wise ones are all so stupid. I’ve nobody to talk to. I’m always alone, alone; I’ve nobody at all... and I don’t know who I am or why I live. [Exit slowly.] EPIKHODOV. As a matter of fact, independently of everything else, I must express my feeling, among other things, that fate has been as pitiless in her dealings with me as a storm is to a small ship. Suppose, let us grant, I am wrong; then why did I wake up this morning, to give an example, and behold an enormous spider on my chest, like that. [Shows with both hands] And if I do drink some kvass, why is it that there is bound to be something of the most indelicate nature in it, such as a beetle? [Pause] Have you read Buckle? [Pause] I should like to trouble you, Avdotya Fedorovna, for two words. DUNYASHA. Say on. EPIKHODOV. I should prefer to be alone with you. [Sighs.] DUNYASHA. [Shy] Very well, only first bring me my little cloak.... It’s by the cupboard. It’s a little damp here. EPIKHODOV. Very well... I’ll bring it.... Now I know what to do with my revolver. [Takes guitar and exits, strumming.]