Ivanov. Anton Chekhov

      LvovI can’t sit down.

      Pause.

      AnnaThey’re playing ‘The Little Finch’. (Sings.) ’Little finch, little finch, where did you go? Tippling vodka out in the snow.’

      Pause.

      Do you have a mother and father somewhere?

      LvovMy father’s dead, but I have a mother.

      AnnaDo you miss her?

      LvovI have no time to miss people.

      Anna(laughs) ’Flowers return with every spring, but happiness lingers behind.’ Who taught me that? . . . Can’t remember . . . It must have been Nikolay. (Listens.) There goes that owl again.

      LvovLet it.