Vet. Little Vera,—and a grandson, too. Twins, though not a bit alike, as you may see for yourself before you go. 'Twas Vasil, my grandson, who brought the Shepherd to us. He was just seven years old then, and a fine lad. We can say that about our grandchildren, ma'am. The Shepherd loved him at first sight, and a father he's been to him ever since. His own father, my Andrei, died under the rod one bad year when taxes couldn't be paid, and his wife—the little mother—died too when they brought him in. She dropped like that. But we don't tell the children. They'll not have to dig up graves for trouble. [Going right] I'll let the Shepherd know you are here.
Soph. [In sudden confusion] Wait—I mean—yes—tell him I am here.
Vet. 'Tis luck you have found him at home, for these bitter days keep him at work. Shall I tell him your name, lady?
Soph. Sophie Remon.
[Exit Vetrova]
Soph. His home! What a place! But I could kneel here. [Rises and walks nervously, but becomes suddenly composed at sound of a step. Enter Adrian, right. He stands reservedly at some distance from her]
Adr. May I help you this time? But I hope it is not trouble of your own that brings you.
Soph. No.
Adr. Then I am glad to see you again. We had so little time this morning, and my surprise was so great when I recognized you——