first.

FEDYA. Afterwards. Now let's have "No More at Evening."

[Gypsies sing.

GYPSY WOMAN (R. C., when they finish singing, turning to Musician who
is sitting at table R., with his back to audience). Have you got it?

MUSICIAN. It's impossible to take it down correctly. They change the
tune each time, and they seem to have a different scale, too. (He
calls a gypsy woman.) Is this it?

[He hums a bar or two.

GYPSY WOMAN (clapping her hands). Splendid! Wonderful! How can you do
it?

FEDYA (rising. Goes to table L. back of couch and pours out glass of
wine). He'll never get it. And even if he did and shovelled it into an
opera, he'd make it seem absolutely meaningless.

AFREMOV. Now we'll have "The Fatal Hour."

[Gypsies sing quartette. During this song, FEDYA is standing down
R., keeping time with the wine glass from which he has drunk.
When they finish he returns to the couch and falls into MASHA'S
arms.

FEDYA. God! That's it! That's it! That's wonderful. What lovely things