IVANOFF. I don't know.

ANNA. And why don't you want me to go driving with you in the
evening?

IVANOFF. As you insist on knowing, I shall have to tell you. It
is a little cruel, but you had best understand. When this
melancholy fit is on me I begin to dislike you, Annie, and at
such times I must escape from you. In short, I simply have to
leave this house.

ANNA. Oh, you are sad, are you? I can understand that! Nicholas,
let me tell you something: won't you try to sing and laugh and
scold as you used to? Stay here, and we will drink some liqueur
together. and laugh, and chase away this sadness of yours in no
time. Shall I sing to you? Or shall we sit in your study in the
twilight as we used to, while you tell me about your sadness? I
can read such suffering in your eyes! Let me look into them and
weep, and our hearts will both be lighter. [She laughs and cries
at once] Or is it really true that the flowers return with every
spring, but lost happiness never returns? Oh, is it? Well, go
then, go!

IVANOFF. Pray for me, Annie! [He goes; then stops and thinks for
a moment] No, I can't do it. [IVANOFF goes out.]

ANNA. Yes, go, go-- [Sits down at the table.]

LVOFF. [Walking up and down] Make this a rule, Madam: as soon as