ANNA PAVLOVNA. That's right. Send off your mother. Open the door to that awful husband. Well, I can't stand by and see you do it. I'll go. I'm going. And God be with you and your extraordinary ways. [Exit L. U. with suppressed rage. LISA (sinking into a chair R. of table C.). That's the last straw. SASHA. Oh, she'll come back. We'll make her understand. (Going to the door and following after her mother.) Now, Mother darling, listen-- listen-- [Exit L. U. [All lights dim to black out. CURTAIN SCENE II A room at the gypsies', dark but beautifully lit. The actual room is scarcely seen, and although at first it appears squalid, there are flaring touches of Byzantine luxury. Gypsies are singing. FEDYA is lying on the sofa, his eyes closed, coat off. An OFFICER sits at the table, on which there are bottles of champagne and glasses. Beside him sits a musician taking down the song. AFREMOV (standing L. U.). Asleep? FEDYA (on couch L. Raising his hand warningly). Sh! Don't talk! Now let's have "No More at Evening." GYPSY LEADER. Impossible, Fedor Protosov. Masha must have her solo first. FEDYA. Afterwards. Now let's have "No More at Evening." [Gypsies sing. GYPSY WOMAN (R. C., when they finish singing, turning to Musician who is sitting at table R., with his back to audience). Have you got it? MUSICIAN. It's impossible to take it down correctly. They change the tune each time, and they seem to have a different scale, too. (He calls a gypsy woman.) Is this it? [He hums a bar or two. GYPSY WOMAN (clapping her hands). Splendid! Wonderful! How can you do it? FEDYA (rising. Goes to table L. back of couch and pours out glass of wine). He'll never get it. And even if he did and shovelled it into an opera, he'd make it seem absolutely meaningless. AFREMOV. Now we'll have "The Fatal Hour." [Gypsies sing quartette. During this song, FEDYA is standing down R., keeping time with the wine glass from which he has drunk. When they finish he returns to the couch and falls into MASHA'S arms. FEDYA. God! That's it! That's it! That's wonderful. What lovely things that music says. And where does it all come from, what does it all mean? [Another pause. To think that men can touch eternity like that, and then--nothing-- nothing at all. MUSICIAN. Yes, it's very original. [Taking notes. FEDYA. Original be damned. It's real. MUSICIAN. It's all very simple, except the rhythm. That's very strange. FEDYA. Oh, Masha, Masha! You turn my soul inside out. [Gypsies hum a song softly. MASHA (sitting on couch L. with FEDYA). Do I? But what was it I asked you for? FEDYA. What? Oh, money. Voila, mademoiselle. [He takes money front his trousers pocket. MASHA laughs, takes the money, counts it swiftly, and hides it in her dress.