NATASHA [entering] Don’t wish me farewell, before you’ve wished me how-d’you-do!
THE ACTOR [barring her way] I am going. Spring will come—and I’ll be here no longer—
NATASHA. Wait a moment! Where do you propose going?
THE ACTOR. In search of a town—to be cured—And you, Ophelia, must go away! Take the veil! Just imagine—there’s a hospital to cure—ah—organisms for drunkards—a wonderful hospital—built of marble—with marble floors . . . light—clean—food—and all gratis! And a marble floor—yes! I’ll find it—I’ll get cured—and then I shall start life anew. . . . I’m on my way to regeneration, as King Lear said. Natasha, my stage name is . . . Svertchkoff—Zavoloushski . . . do you realize how painful it is to lose one’s name? Even dogs have their names . . .
[Natasha carefully passes the Actor, stops at Anna’s bed and looks.]
To be nameless—is not to exist!
NATASHA. Look, my dear—why—she’s dead. . . .
THE ACTOR [shakes his head] Impossible . . .
NATASHA [stepping back] So help me God—look . . .
BUBNOFF [appearing in doorway] What is there to look at?