MÁSHA. Well, what about “Másha, Másha”? If you were really in love, you'd have got a divorce long ago. They themselves asked you to. You say you don't love her, but all the same you keep to her! I see you don't wish …
FÉDYA. But you know why I don't wish!
MÁSHA. That's all rubbish. People say quite truly that you're an empty fellow.
FÉDYA. What can I say to you? That your words hurt me, you know without being told!
MÁSHA. Nothing hurts you!
FÉDYA. You know that the one joy I have in life is your love.
MÁSHA. My love—yes; but yours doesn't exist.
FÉDYA. All right. I'm not going to assure you. Besides, what's the good? You know!
MÁSHA. Fédya; why torment me?
FÉDYA. Which of us torments?