_Vasil._ Put your ear to my violin, and you will hear---- _Zar._ Come! _Vasil._ You must yield something too, Adrian. Step back to the law of Moses for vantage if you can leap to Christ with the world in your arms. _Zar._ You have broken your oath! _Vasil._ I have not. I will tell you. _Zar._ Speak then. Who are your confederates? _Vasil._ There is but one. _Zar._ Who? Where is he? _Vasil._ He is here--in this room--he is in every prison in Russia--he is in every heart that knows the meaning of love--but if you want to arrest him [_stepping back into the sunlight and pointing upward_] you must go up there, for he is God. _Zar._ That for your blasphemy! [_Strikes Vasil on the mouth with his sword_] Off with him! [_Guards take Vasil off. Zarkoff follows. Silence broken by a groan from Adrian_] _Soph._ Beloved, beloved, he shall be free! The whole world shall help us! _Greg._ May we knock down the prisons now, Lavrov? _Adr._ O God, in all thy ages can this be justified? _Kore._ _You_ can justify it in a moment. Adrian Lavrov, this is your call to war. If you respond, his life is well lost. _Adr._ War? [_Staggers up_] Yes. And I will use the strongest of earthly weapons, the arms of peace. The powers that upbuild are as invincible as the universe. By them it stands. Only by their toleration do the forces of destruction live. Toleration? Only by the _support_ of the powers of peace do the powers that destroy exist. Is not the army of the Czar fed by us, clothed by us, paid by us? And if we refuse to give, must it not beg of us? If he who works not shall not eat, what is the doom of the destroyer? The sower shall not sow for him, the reaper shall not reap for him, the builder shall not build for him, the physician shall not heal him, the scholar shall not teach him, the lawyer shall not plead for him, no trade shall supply him, no craft shall assist him, no art shall amuse him. The mills shall be silent, the wheels shall not turn, the wires shall be dumb, until he cries out "Peace, thou art master: let me be so much as thy servant!" _A revolutionist._ Right! This, too, is war! _Adr._ Yes. The new war of a new day. Not in madness hurling bombs, but giving our pity as we take our right. _Man._ And who will pay your soldiers of peace? Must not their women and children eat? _Adr._ The money we now pay to our brothers to strike us shall put bread in our mouths. _A revolutionist._ Keep the taxes! _Man._ You join us at last!