FEDYA (ruminatingly). And I've been attracted often, you know. Once I was in love with a grande dame, bestially in love, dog-like. Well, she gave me a rendezvous, and I didn't, couldn't, keep it, because suddenly I thought of her husband, and it made me feel sick. And you know, it's queer, that now, when I look back, instead of being glad that I was decent, I am as sorry as if I had sinned. But with Masha it's so different; I'm filled with joy that I've never soiled the brightness of my feeling for her. (He points his finger at the floor.) I may go much further down. PETUSHKOV (interrupting). I know so well what you mean. But where is she now? FEDYA. I don't know. I don't want to know. All that belongs to another life, and I couldn't bear to mix that life and this life. [A POLICE OFFICER enters from up R., kicks a man who is lying on the floor--walks down stage, looks at FEDYA and PETUSHKOV, then exits. PETUSHKOV. Your life's wonderful. I believe you're a real idealist. FEDYA. No. It's awfully simple. You know among our class--I mean the class I was born in--there are only three courses: the first, to go into the civil service or join the army and make money to squander over your sensual appetites. And all that was appalling to me--perhaps because I couldn't do it. The second thing is to live to clear out, to destroy what is foul, to make way for the beautiful. But for that you've got to be a hero, and I'm not a hero. And the third is to forget it all--overwhelm it with music, drown it with wine. That's what I did. And look (he spreads his arms out) where my singing led me to. [He drinks. PETUSHKOV. And what about family life? The sanctity of the home and all that--I would have been awfully happy if I'd had a decent wife. As it was, she ruined me. FEDYA. I beg your pardon. Did you say marriage? Oh, yes, of course. Well, I've been married, too. Oh, my wife was quite an ideal woman. I don't know why I should say was, by the way, because she's still living. But there's something--I don't know; it's rather difficult to explain--But you know how pouring champagne into a glass makes it froth up into a million iridescent little bubbles? Well, there was none of that in our married life. There was no fizz in it, no sparkle, no taste, phew! The days were all one color--flat and stale and gray as the devil. And that's why I wanted to get away and forget. You can't forget unless you play. So trying to play I crawled in every sort of muck there is. And you know, it's a funny thing, but we love people for the good we do them, and we hate them for the harm. That's why I hated Lisa. That's why she seemed to love me. PETUSHKOV. Why do you say seemed?