NINA. Hush!

TREPLIEFF. [Listening to approaching footsteps] Who is that? Is it you,
Jacob?

JACOB. [On the stage] Yes, sir.

TREPLIEFF. To your places then. The moon is rising; the play must
commence.

NINA. Yes, sir.

TREPLIEFF. Is the alcohol ready? Is the sulphur ready? There must be
fumes of sulphur in the air when the red eyes shine out. [To NINA] Go,
now, everything is ready. Are you nervous?

NINA. Yes, very. I am not so much afraid of your mother as I am of
Trigorin. I am terrified and ashamed to act before him; he is so famous.
Is he young?

TREPLIEFF. Yes.

NINA. What beautiful stories he writes!

TREPLIEFF. [Coldly] I have never read any of them, so I can't say.

NINA. Your play is very hard to act; there are no living characters in
it.

TREPLIEFF. Living characters! Life must be represented not as it is, but