ARKADINA. What, the love of a country girl? Oh, how little you know
yourself!

TRIGORIN. People sometimes walk in their sleep, and so I feel as if
I were asleep, and dreaming of her as I stand here talking to you. My
imagination is shaken by the sweetest and most glorious visions. Release
me!

ARKADINA. [Shuddering] No, no! I am only an ordinary woman; you must not
say such things to me. Do not torment me, Boris; you frighten me.

TRIGORIN. You could be an extraordinary woman if you only would. Love
alone can bring happiness on earth, love the enchanting, the poetical
love of youth, that sweeps away the sorrows of the world. I had no time
for it when I was young and struggling with want and laying siege to the
literary fortress, but now at last this love has come to me. I see it
beckoning; why should I fly?

ARKADINA. [With anger] You are mad!

TRIGORIN. Release me.

ARKADINA. You have all conspired together to torture me to-day. [She
weeps.]

TRIGORIN. [Clutching his head desperately] She doesn't understand me!
She won't understand me!

ARKADINA. Am I then so old and ugly already that you can talk to me like