pipe？　Call　me　what　instrument　you　will；　though　you　can　fret　me；
  you　cannot　play　upon　me！〃　＇laughs　and　clasps＇　Bravo！　Encore！
  Bravo！　Where　the　devil　is　there　any　old　age　in　that？　I'm　not　old；
  that　is　all　nonsense；　a　torrent　of　strength　rushes　over　me；　this
  is　life；　freshness；　youth！　Old　age　and　genius　can't　exist
  together。　You　seem　to　be　struck　dumb；　Nikitushka。　Wait　a　second；
  let　me　come　to　my　senses　again。　Oh！　Good　Lord！　Now　then；　listen！
  Did　you　ever　hear　such　tenderness；　such　music？　Sh！　Softly；
  〃The　moon　had　set。　There　was　not　any　light；
  Save　of　the　lonely　legion'd　watch…stars　pale
  In　outer　air；　and　what　by　fits　made　bright
  Hot　oleanders　in　a　rosy　vale
  Searched　by　the　lamping　fly；　whose　little　spark
  Went　in　and　out；　like　passion's　bashful　hope。〃
  ＇The　noise　of　opening　doors　is　heard＇　What's　that？
  IVANITCH。　There　are　Petrushka　and　Yegorka　coming　back。　Yes；　you
  have　genius；　genius；　my　master。
  SVIETLOVIDOFF。　＇Calls；　turning　toward　the　noise＇　Come　here　to　me；
  boys！　＇To　IVANITCH＇　Let　us　go　and　get　dressed。　I'm　not　old！　All
  that　is　foolishness；　nonsense！　＇laughs　gaily＇　What　are　you　crying
  for？　You　poor　old　granny；　you；　what's　the　matter　now？　This　won't
  do！　There；　there；　this　won't　do　at　all！　Come；　come；　old　man；
  don't　stare　so！　What　makes　you　stare　like　that？　There；　there！
  ＇Embraces　him　in　tears＇　Don't　cry！　Where　there　is　art　and　genius
  there　can　never　be　such　things　as　old　age　or　loneliness　or
  sickness　。　。　。　and　death　itself　is　half　。　。　。　＇Weeps＇　No；　no；
  Nikitushka！　It　is　all　over　for　us　now！　What　sort　of　a　genius　am
  I？　I'm　like　a　squeezed　lemon；　a　cracked　bottle；　and　youyou　are
  the　old　rat　of　the　theatre　。　。　。　a　prompter！　Come　on！　＇They　go＇
  I'm　no　genius；　I'm　only　fit　to　be　in　the　suite　of　Fortinbras；　and
  even　for　that　I　am　too　old。。。。　Yes。。。。　Do　you　remember　those
  lines　from　Othello；　Nikitushka？
  〃Farewell　the　tranquil　mind！　Farewell　content！
  Farewell　the　plumed　troops　and　the　big　wars
  That　make　ambition　virtue！　O　farewell！
  Farewell　the　neighing　steed　and　the　shrill　trump；
  The　spirit…stirring　drum；　the　ear…piercing　fife；
  The　royal　banner；　and　all　quality；
  Pride；　pomp　and　circumstance　of　glorious　war！〃
  IVANITCH。　Oh！　You're　a　genius；　a　genius！
  SVIETLOVIDOFF。　And　again　this：
  〃Away！　the　moor　is　dark　beneath　the　moon；
  Rapid　clouds　have　drunk　the　last　pale　beam　of　even：
  Away！　the　gathering　winds　will　call　the　darkness　soon；
  And　profoundest　midnight　shroud　the　serene　lights　of　heaven。〃
  They　go　out　together；　the　curtain　falls　slowly。
  End