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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?
MÁSHA [cries] You are unkind!
FÉDYA [goes up and embraces her] Másha! What's it all about? Stop that.
One must live, and not whine. It doesn't suit you at all, my lovely one!
MÁSHA. You do love me?
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