Adr. [Catching the last word] Vera! Ah,—Petrovich, I've been thinking that the children ought not to be parted.
Vet. You are right, Adrian Lavrov.
Adr. And you would be willing to let Vera go with Vasil to Berlin?
Vet. [Astounded] Go with him? My Vera? My little girl? Go away? Leave her old grandfather? I don't understand you, Adrian Lavrov. Let the boy stay with his sister.
Adr. [Putting his hand on Vetrova's shoulder] That must not be, Petrovich. He ought to go. He must go. He will be a great musician. God means it. There is no mistake about him. [Leaves Vetrova and crosses to table where Vasil has been studying. Turns over the papers meditatively, forgetting Vetrova] He will never write. He feels too much to articulate. But music—through that his divinity can flow. [Takes up the book] Bless the lad! He learns by leaps. [Drops book] And I must send him from me—my youth—my dreams.
Vet. But not Vera! Not her!
Adr. If she stays she will marry, Petrovich. And she must leave you then.
Vet. No, no! Alexander has promised me that she may live with me till I die. [Pleadingly] Only till I die, Adrian Lavrov.
Adr. [Hiding his emotion] Well, Petrovich, sufficient unto the day. Let us be happy till to-morrow.
[Re-enter Korelenko, right]