SHAMRAEFF. We all grow old and wither, my lady, while you alone, with
your light dress, your gay spirits, and your grace, keep the secret of
eternal youth.

ARKADINA. You are still trying to turn my head, you tiresome old man.

TRIGORIN. [To SORIN] How do you do, Peter? What, still ill? How silly of
you! [With evident pleasure, as he catches sight of MASHA] How are you,
Miss Masha?

MASHA. So you recognised me? [She shakes hands with him.]

TRIGORIN. Did you marry him?

MASHA. Long ago.

TRIGORIN. You are happy now? [He bows to DORN and MEDVIEDENKO, and then
goes hesitatingly toward TREPLIEFF] Your mother says you have forgotten
the past and are no longer angry with me.

TREPLIEFF gives him his hand.

ARKADINA. [To her son] Here is a magazine that Boris has brought you
with your latest story in it.

TREPLIEFF. [To TRIGORIN, as he takes the magazine] Many thanks; you are
very kind.

TRIGORIN. Your admirers all send you their regards. Every one in Moscow
and St. Petersburg is interested in you, and all ply me with questions