TRIGORIN. I don't see the necessity for that.

MASHA. Oh, if you knew what it is to love without hope for years and
years, to wait for ever for something that will never come! I shall not
marry for love, but marriage will at least be a change, and will bring
new cares to deaden the memories of the past. Shall we have another
drink?

TRIGORIN. Haven't you had enough?

MASHA. Fiddlesticks! [She fills a glass] Don't look at me with that
expression on your face. Women drink oftener than you imagine, but most
of them do it in secret, and not openly, as I do. They do indeed, and
it is always either vodka or brandy. [They touch glasses] To your good
health! You are so easy to get on with that I am sorry to see you go.
[They drink.]

TRIGORIN. And I am sorry to leave.

MASHA. You should ask her to stay.

TRIGORIN. She would not do that now. Her son has been behaving
outrageously. First he attempted suicide, and now I hear he is going
to challenge me to a duel, though what his provocation may be I can't
imagine. He is always sulking and sneering and preaching about a new
form of art, as if the field of art were not large enough to accommodate
both old and new without the necessity of jostling.

MASHA. It is jealousy. However, that is none of my business. [A pause.
JACOB walks through the room carrying a trunk; NINA comes in and stands