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The Playwright Jonathan Leaf, 2006
You’ve been paid, yes? (She nods.) Tell me, where is my wife?
She and her sister, Katarina,
Are visiting again that gorgeous Count,
The Dutch ambassador’s adopted son.
Once more. He’s very handsome, yes?
Pushkin looks at her. The Serving-Maid exits. Pushkin walks to a corner panel in his woodwork, taps it, and it opens. He pulls out some papers and looks at them. He then closes the compartment and sits down, dejectedly, with the papers.
Have I eyed earth without a proper eye
And seen - or thought I saw - a hectic strand -
Shore beckoning - where beach's not, not one grain,
Worlds through glass eyes themselves composed of sand?