_Vasil._ But it will be coming to others. Always somewhere there are people suffering, in prison, mad, tortured---- _Adr._ You can not help them now, Vasil. And to let sympathy destroy your power for work will rob them of the joy you may bring them hereafter. Forget them for awhile that you may come again with help, not tears, that ease your heart rather than theirs. _Vasil._ No, I shall not forget--not for a minute--but I shall work and be blithe of soul, for what has the soul to do with the tearing of the heart, unless it be to show its free wings above it? If I were imprisoned, racked, dying, I should want the music to go on, I should try even then to help it, to turn my cries into a song. That is why I can sing while they suffer--because happiness is the right thing--because I am ready to suffer while _they_ sing,--not because I forget. O, you can trust me, Adrian! And [_with sudden appeal_] I want to be at the meeting to-night. _Adr._ [_Hastily_] No. _Vasil._ Yes, Adrian. _Adr._ You are too young. _Vasil._ As old as the morning star. Do not be afraid. Whatever touches me, nothing shall touch my song. _Adr._ Your song can be saved only with your life, Vasil, and this meeting is dangerous. In a few days you are going away. We will not uselessly waste your heart to-night. _Vasil._ I do not want to go just now, Adrian. Let me stay here a little longer. There is so much you can teach me yet. _Adr._ [_Smiling_] You make better music than I can dream. No, it is time to go. _Vasil._ But I _want_ to stay! _Adr._ [_Quickly_] You must have no wishes. [_More gently_] Aside from your art. _Vasil._ Art can breathe only through life. I must live! Art is for men and women. If I do not understand them, how can they understand my music? I shall not play to sheep, nor rocks, nor stars, nor God, nor angels! _Adr._ You know what I mean, Vasil. In heart the true artist is all man, all woman; but in genius, as impersonal as the universe. _Vasil._ I know it! Have I not proved it to-day? Petrov Kalushkin is lying over yonder bleeding from a hundred lashes, but I--[_taking up his violin_]--listen to "The Joy of the Stars!" _Adr._ [_Laying his hand on the bow_] Stop--no--I mean--[_silence. Vasil puts down the violin and looks at Adrian_] I am not a genius, Vasil. You will be what I can not. _Vasil._ And you will trust me? I may be at the meeting? _Adr._ [_Taking his hat_] Yes. This once. And then Berlin. _Vasil._ You are worn out, Adrian. Must you go again? _Adr._ Again and again. You may say good-by to the princess for me. _Vasil._ Wait! She is coming! [_Exit Adrian, street door, as Sophie and Vera enter left. Sophie has on hat and ulster_] _Vera._ You kissed me this morning, and you were a princess. _Soph._ And I will kiss you again, dear Vera. You will be ready in the morning for the visit you have promised me? _Vera._ O, yes! [_They cross toward Vasil_]