TREPLIEFF. Masha has been yelling for me all over the park. An
insufferable creature.

DORN. Constantine, your play delighted me. It was strange, of course,
and I did not hear the end, but it made a deep impression on me. You
have a great deal of talent, and must persevere in your work.

TREPLIEFF seizes his hand and squeezes it hard, then kisses him
impetuously.

DORN. Tut, tut! how excited you are. Your eyes are full of tears. Listen
to me. You chose your subject in the realm of abstract thought, and you
did quite right. A work of art should invariably embody some lofty idea.
Only that which is seriously meant can ever be beautiful. How pale you
are!

TREPLIEFF. So you advise me to persevere?

DORN. Yes, but use your talent to express only deep and eternal truths.
I have led a quiet life, as you know, and am a contented man, but if I
should ever experience the exaltation that an artist feels during his
moments of creation, I think I should spurn this material envelope of my
soul and everything connected with it, and should soar away into heights
above this earth.

TREPLIEFF. I beg your pardon, but where is Nina?

DORN. And yet another thing: every work of art should have a definite
object in view. You should know why you are writing, for if you follow