SORIN. [Rubbing his chilled hands] Come, let us go in; the night is
damp, and my legs are aching.

ARKADINA. Yes, you act as if they were turned to stone; you can hardly
move them. Come, you unfortunate old man. [She takes his arm.]

SHAMRAEFF. [Offering his arm to his wife] Permit me, madame.

SORIN. I hear that dog howling again. Won't you please have it
unchained, Shamraeff?

SHAMRAEFF. No, I really can't, sir. The granary is full of millet, and
I am afraid thieves might break in if the dog were not there. [Walking
beside MEDVIEDENKO] Yes, a whole octave lower: "Bravo, Silva!" and he
wasn't a singer either, just a simple church cantor.

MEDVIEDENKO. What salary does the church pay its singers? [All go out
except DORN.]

DORN. I may have lost my judgment and my wits, but I must confess I
liked that play. There was something in it. When the girl spoke of her
solitude and the Devil's eyes gleamed across the lake, I felt my hands
shaking with excitement. It was so fresh and naive. But here he comes;
let me say something pleasant to him.

TREPLIEFF comes in.

TREPLIEFF. All gone already?

DORN. I am here.