CHEBUTIKIN. [Reading] Balzac was married at Berdichev. [IRINA is singing softly] That’s worth making a note of. [He makes a note] Balzac was married at Berdichev. [Goes on reading.] IRINA. [Laying out cards, thoughtfully] Balzac was married at Berdichev. TUZENBACH. The die is cast. I’ve handed in my resignation, Maria Sergeyevna. MASHA. So I heard. I don’t see what good it is; I don’t like civilians. TUZENBACH. Never mind.... [Gets up] I’m not handsome; what use am I as a soldier? Well, it makes no difference... I shall work. If only just once in my life I could work so that I could come home in the evening, fall exhausted on my bed, and go to sleep at once. [Going into the dining-room] Workmen, I suppose, do sleep soundly! FEDOTIK. [To IRINA] I bought some coloured pencils for you at Pizhikov’s in the Moscow Road, just now. And here is a little knife. IRINA. You have got into the habit of behaving to me as if I am a little girl, but I am grown up. [Takes the pencils and the knife, then, with joy] How lovely! FEDOTIK. And I bought myself a knife... look at it... one blade, another, a third, an ear-scoop, scissors, nail-cleaners. RODE. [Loudly] Doctor, how old are you? CHEBUTIKIN. I? Thirty-two. [Laughter] FEDOTIK. I’ll show you another kind of patience.... [Lays out cards.] [A samovar is brought in; ANFISA attends to it; a little later NATASHA enters and helps by the table; SOLENI arrives and, after greetings, sits by the table.] VERSHININ. What a wind! MASHA. Yes. I’m tired of winter. I’ve already forgotten what summer’s like. IRINA. It’s coming out, I see. We’re going to Moscow. FEDOTIK. No, it won’t come out. Look, the eight was on the two of spades. [Laughs] That means you won’t go to Moscow. CHEBUTIKIN. [Reading paper] Tsitsigar. Smallpox is raging here. ANFISA. [Coming up to MASHA] Masha, have some tea, little mother. [To VERSHININ] Please have some, sir... excuse me, but I’ve forgotten your name.... MASHA. Bring some here, nurse. I shan’t go over there. IRINA. Nurse! ANFISA. Coming, coming! NATASHA. [To SOLENI] Children at the breast understand perfectly. I said “Good morning, Bobby; good morning, dear!” And he looked at me in quite an unusual way. You think it’s only the mother in me that is speaking; I assure you that isn’t so! He’s a wonderful child. SOLENI. If he was my child I’d roast him on a frying-pan and eat him. [Takes his tumbler into the drawing-room and sits in a corner.] NATASHA. [Covers her face in her hands] Vulgar, ill-bred man! MASHA. He’s lucky who doesn’t notice whether it’s winter now, or summer. I think that if I were in Moscow, I shouldn’t mind about the weather.