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.