Vasil. My country! What is it? The thing that raised a knout above my shoulders?
Soph. My dear Vasil——
Vasil. Adrian is right. I must find that which is not country, nor home, nor people,—the eternal in the hour.
Soph. But Adrian cares for country, home, people.
Vasil. No. He cares only for the soul. These other things are shadow boundaries in the mind that vanish when the soul looks on them. Here, I'll show you how little he cares. [Unfastens a chain from his neck and draws a medal from his bosom] He gave me this, because I wanted it to play with. I was only a boy then. And he forgot all about it. Have you noticed how Adrian forgets? I would not give it back because he was going to bury it. [Holding out medal] See? [Drawing it back] You love him, don't you?
Soph. Why—yes—you strange boy.
Vasil. Then you may see it.
Soph. [Turning away] No.
Vasil. But I want you to look. The name is on it—his grandfather's—great-grandfather's—O, I don't know how far back. But I am sure he was a great prince.
Soph. [Looking at medal] Donskoi!