Treplieff Monologue from The Sea-Gull

From The Sea-Gull by Anton Chekhov

male · melancholic · 1:04 min

I never could make out. I believe she has. I saw her, but she refused to see me, and her servant would never admit me to her rooms. I appreciated her feelings, and did not insist upon a meeting. What more can I tell you? She sometimes writes to me now that I have come home, such clever, sympathetic letters, full of warm feeling. She never complains, but I can tell that she is profoundly unhappy; not a line but speaks to me of an aching, breaking nerve. She has one strange fancy; she always signs herself “The Sea-gull.” The miller in “Rusalka” called himself “The Crow,” and so she repeats in all her letters that she is a sea-gull. She is here now.

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