[Chekhov]
(Treplev stands by his desk.)
ILYA: Boris, we've still got that thing of yours.
TRIGORIN: What thing?
ILYA: Konstantin shot a sea gull a few years ago, and you wanted it stuffed.
TRIGORIN: Did I? I don't recall.
MASHA: Sixty-six! One!
TREPLEV: (throwing open the window) Why do I feel so uneasy?
IRINA: Kostya, close the window. There's a draft.
(Treplev closes the window.)
MASHA: Eighty-eight.
TRIGORIN: And I'm out. My game, good people.
IRINA: Bravo, bravo!
ILYA: Bravo!
IRINA: This man is lucky at everything. (She gets up.) And now let's eat. Our celebrity hasn't even had lunch today. We can play again after supper. Kostya? Quit writing and come have supper.
TREPLEV: I'm not hungry.
IRINA: As you wish. (She wakes Sorin.) Petrusha, supper's ready. (She takes Ilya's arm.) I want to tell you about the wonderful reception they gave me in Kharkov.
(Polina blows out the candles. Everyone leaves but Treplev. Polina, Dorn and Masha wheel out Sorin in his wheelchair.)
[follow Sorin, Polina, Dorn and Masha]
[follow Irina, Trigorin and Ilya]