Gypsy Woman (clapping her hands). Splendid! Wonderful! How can you do it?
Fédya (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.
Afrémov. Now we'll have "The Fatal Hour."
[Gypsies sing quartette. During this song, FÉDYA 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.
Fédya. God! That's it! That's it! That's wonderful. What lovely things that music says. And where does it all come from, what does it all mean?
[Another pause.
To think that men can touch eternity like that, and then—nothing—nothing at all.
Musician. Yes, it's very original.
[Taking notes.
Fédya. Original be damned. It's real.