Vasil. O, has she gone?
Adr. No, but she is going.
Vasil. She will come back?
Adr. Why should she? Isn't it enough that she has given herself to us for one day?
Vasil. She has given herself to me forever—by saving my life. She may forget you and the others, but she can't forget me, Adrian. O, I have been so happy to-day!
Adr. To-day?
Vasil. I have finished "The Joy of the Stars."
Adr. [Exultantly] Your sonata finished? To-day!
Vasil. You have been right, Adrian. This life shall not touch me. I could never understand it. When I think of it I grow blind—blind—blind! I shall sing—just sing till my head goes off, nor ask why. The people are good, honest, work from light to dark, yet they starve, bleed, die. And I, who pray to harm nothing, I—this morning—[stops, shudders, crosses to table, rear, lays his violin upon it, and sits despairingly. Adrian follows and puts his arm over the boy's shoulders]
Adr. That is over, lad. You will soon be in Berlin with your music, and you will forget. Think of it as a dream that will not come again.