MASHA. Three.
DORN. Right.
MASHA. Have you put down three? Eight. Eighty-one. Ten.
SHAMRAEFF. Don’t go so fast.
ARKADINA. Could you believe it? I am still dazed by the reception they gave me in Kharkoff.
MASHA. Thirty-four. [The notes of a melancholy waltz are heard.]
ARKADINA. The students gave me an ovation; they sent me three baskets of flowers, a wreath, and this thing here.
She unclasps a brooch from her breast and lays it on the table.
SHAMRAEFF. There is something worth while!
MASHA. Fifty.