How didheescape?
MENDEL
He was shot in the shoulder, and fell unconscious. As he wasn't a girl, the hooligans left him for dead and hurried to fresh sport.
VERA
Terrible! Terrible!
[Almost in tears.]
MENDEL [Shrugging shoulders, hopelessly]
It is only Jewish history!... David belongs to the species ofpogromorphan—they arrive in the States by almost every ship.
VERA
Poor boy! Poor boy! And he looked so happy!
[She half sobs.]
MENDEL
So he is, most of the time—a sunbeam took human shape when he was born. But naturally that dreadful scene left a scar on his brain, as the bullet left a scar on his shoulder, and he is always liable to see red when Kishineff is mentioned.
VERA
I will never mention my miserable birthplace to him again.
MENDEL
But you see every few months the newspapers tell us of anotherpogrom, and then he screams out against what he calls that butcher's face, so that I tremble for his reason. I tremble even when I see him writing that crazy music about America, for it only means he is brooding over the difference between America and Russia.
VERA
But perhaps—perhaps—all the terrible memory will pass peacefully away in his music.
MENDEL
There will always be the scar on his shoulder to remind him—whenever the wound twinges, it brings up these terrible faces and visions.
VERA
Is it on his right shoulder?
MENDEL
No—on his left. For a violinist that is even worse.
VERA
Ah, of course—the weight and the fingering.
[Subconsciously placing and fingering an imaginary violin.]
MENDEL
That is why I fear so for his future—he will never be strong enough for the feats of bravura that the public demands.
VERA
The wild beasts! I feel more ashamed of my country than ever. But there's his symphony.
MENDEL
And who will look at that amateurish stuff? He knows so little of harmony and counterpoint—he breaks all the rules. I've tried to give him a few pointers—but he ought to have gone to Germany.
VERA
Perhaps it's not too late.
MENDEL [Passionately]
Ah, if you and your friends could help him! See—I'm begging after all. But it's not for myself.
VERA
My father loves music. Perhapshe—but no! helives in Kishineff. But I will think—there are people here—I will write to you.
MENDEL [Fervently]
Thank you! Thank you!
VERA
Now you must go to him. Good-bye. Tell him I count upon him for the Concert.
MENDEL
How good you are!
[He follows her to the street-door.]
VERA [At door]
Say good-bye for me to your mother—she seems asleep.
MENDEL [Opening outer door]
I am sorry it is snowing so.
VERA
We Russians are used to it.
[Smiling, at exit]
Good-bye—let us hope your David will turn out a Rubinstein.
MENDEL [Closing the doors softly]
I never thought a Russian Christian could be so human.
[He looks at the clock.]
Gott in Himmel—my dancing class!
[He hurries into the overcoat hanging on the hat-rack. Re-enterDavid, having composed himself, but still somewhat dazed.]
DAVID
She is gone? Oh, but I have driven her away by my craziness. Is she very angry?
MENDEL
Quite the contrary—she expects you at the Concert, and what is more——
DAVID [Ecstatically]
And she understood! She understood my Crucible of God! Oh, uncle, you don't know what it means to me to have somebody who understands me. Even you have never understood——
MENDEL [Wounded]
Nonsense! How can Miss Revendal understand you better than your own uncle?
DAVID [Mystically exalted]
I can't explain—I feel it.
MENDEL
Of course she's interested in your music, thank Heaven. But what true understanding can there be between a Russian Jew and a Russian Christian?
DAVID
What understanding? Aren't we both Americans?
MENDEL
Well, I haven't time to discuss it now.
[He winds his muffler round his throat.]
DAVID
Why, where are you going?
MENDEL [Ironically]
WhereshouldI be going—in the snow—on the eve of the Sabbath? Suppose we say to synagogue!
DAVID
Oh, uncle—how you always seem to hanker after those old things!
MENDEL [Tartly]
Nonsense!
[He takes his umbrella from the stand.]
I don't like to see our people going to pieces, that's all.
DAVID
Then why did you come to America? Why didn't you work for a Jewish land? You're not even a Zionist.
MENDEL
I can't argue now. There's a pack of giggling schoolgirls waiting to waltz.
DAVID
The fresh romping young things! Think of their happiness! I should love to play for them.
MENDEL [Sarcastically]
I can see you are yourself again.
[He opens the street-door—turns back.]
What about your own lesson? Can't we go together?
DAVID
I must first write down what is singing in my soul—oh, uncle, it seems as if I knew suddenly what was wanting in my music!
MENDEL [Drily]
Well, don't forget what is wanting in the house! The rent isn't paid yet.
[Exit through street-door. As he goes out, he touches and kisses theMezuzahon the door-post, with a subconsciously antagonistic revival of religious impulse.Davidopens his desk, takes out a pile of musical manuscript, sprawls over his chair and, humming to himself, scribbles feverishly with the quill. After a few momentsFrau Quixanoyawns, wakes, and stretches herself. Then she looks at the clock.]
FRAU QUIXANO
Shabbos!
[She rises and goes to the table and sees there are no candles, walks to the chiffonier and gets them and places them in the candlesticks, then lights the candles, muttering a ceremonial Hebrew benediction.]
Boruch atto haddoshem ellôheinu melech hoôlam assher kiddishonu bemitzvôsov vettzivonu lehadlik neir shel shabbos.
[She pulls down the blinds of the two windows, then she goes to the rapt composer and touches him, remindingly, on the shoulder. He does not move, but continues writing.]
Dovidel!
[He looks up dazedly. She points to the candles.]
Shabbos!
[A sweet smile comes over his face, he throws the quill resignedly away and submits his head to her hands and her muttered Hebrew blessing.]
Yesimcho elôhim ke-efrayim vechimnasseh—yevorechecho haddoshem veyishmerecho, yoer hadoshem ponov eilecho vechunecho, yisso hadoshem ponov eilecho veyosem lecho sholôm.
[Then she goes toward the kitchen. As she turns at the door, he is again writing. She shakes her finger at him, repeating]
Gut Shabbos!
DAVID
Gut Shabbos!
[Puts down the pen and smiles after her till the door closes, then with a deep sigh takes his cape from the peg and his violin-case, pauses, still humming, totake up his pen and write down a fresh phrase, finally puts on his hat and is just about to open the street-door whenKathleenenters from her bedroom fully dressed to go, and laden with a large brown paper parcel and an umbrella. He turns at the sound of her footsteps and remains at the door, holding his violin-case during the ensuing dialogue.]
DAVID
You're not going out this bitter weather?
KATHLEEN [Sharply fending him off with her umbrella]
And who's to shtay me?
DAVID
Oh, but you mustn't—I'lldo your errand—what is it?
KATHLEEN [Indignantly]
Errand, is it, indeed! I'm not here!
DAVID
Not here?
KATHLEEN
I'm lavin', they'll come for me thrunk—and ye'll witness I don't take the candleshtick.
DAVID
But who's sending you away?
KATHLEEN
It's sending meself away I am—yer houly grandmother has me disthroyed intirely.
DAVID
Why, what has the poor old la—?
KATHLEEN
I don't be saltin' the mate and I do be mixin' the crockery and——!
DAVID [Gently]
I know, I know—but, Kathleen, remember she was brought up to these things from childhood. And her father was a Rabbi.
KATHLEEN
What's that? A priest?
DAVID
A sort of priest. In Russia he was a great man. Her husband, too, was a mighty scholar, and to give him time to study the holy books she had to do chores all day for him and the children.
KATHLEEN
Oh, those priests!
DAVID [Smiling]
No,hewasn't a priest. But he took sick and diedand the children left her—went to America or heaven or other far-off places—and she was left all penniless and alone.
KATHLEEN
Poor ould lady.
DAVID
Not so old yet, for she was married at fifteen.
KATHLEEN
Poor young crathur!
DAVID
But she was still the good angel of the congregation—sat up with the sick and watched over the dead.
KATHLEEN
Saints alive! And not scared?
DAVID
No, nothing scared her—except me. I got a broken-down fiddle and used to play it even onShabbos—I was very naughty. But she was so lovely to me. I still remember the heavenly taste of a piece ofMotsoshe gave me dipped in raisin wine! Passover cake, you know.
KATHLEEN [Proudly]
Oh, I knowMotso.
DAVID [Smacks his lips, repeats]
Heavenly!
KATHLEEN
Sure, I must tashte it.
DAVID [Shaking his head, mysteriously]
Only little boys get that tashte.
KATHLEEN
That's quare.
DAVID [Smiling]
Very quare. And then one day my uncle sent the old lady a ticket to come to America. But it is not so happy for her here because you see my uncle has to be near his theatre and can't live in the Jewish quarter, and so nobody understands her, and she sits all the livelong day alone—alone with her book and her religion and her memories——
KATHLEEN [Breaking down]
Oh, Mr. David!
DAVID
And now all this long, cold, snowy evening she'll sit by the fire alone, thinking of her dead, and the fire will sink lower and lower, and she won't be able to touch it, because it's the holy Sabbath, and there'll be no kind Kathleen to brighten up the grey ashes, and then at last, sad and shivering, she'll creep up to her room without a candlestick, and there in the dark and the cold——
KATHLEEN [Hysterically bursting into tears, dropping her parcel, and untying her bonnet-strings]
Oh, Mr. David, I won't mix the crockery, I won't——
DAVID [Heartily]
Of course you won't. Good night.
[He slips out hurriedly through the street-door asKathleenthrows off her bonnet, and the curtain falls quickly. As it rises again, she is seen strenuouslypoking the fire, illumined by its red glow.]
The same scene on an afternoon a month later.Davidis discovered at his desk, scribbling music in a fever of enthusiasm.Mendel, dressed in his best, is playing softly on the piano, watchingDavid. After an instant or two of indecision, he puts down the piano-lid with a bang and rises decisively.
MENDEL
David!
DAVID [Putting up his left hand]
Please, please——
[He writes feverishly.]
MENDEL
But I want to talk to you seriously—at once.
DAVID
I'm just re-writing the Finale. Oh, such a splendid inspiration!
[He writes on.]
MENDEL [Shrugs his shoulders and reseats himself at piano. He plays a bar or two. Looks at watch impatiently. Resolutely]
David, I've got wonderful news for you. Miss Revendal is bringing somebody to see you, and we have hopes of getting you sent to Germany to study composition.
[Daviddoes not reply, but writes rapidly on.]
Why, he hasn't heard a word!
[He shouts.]
David!
DAVID [Writing on]
I can't, uncle. Imustput it down while that glorious impression is fresh.
MENDEL
What impression? You only went to the People's Alliance.
DAVID
Yes, and there I saw the Jewish children—a thousand of 'em—saluting the Flag.
[He writes on.]
MENDEL
Well, what of that?
DAVID
What of that?
[He throws down his quill and jumps up.]
But just fancy it, uncle. The Stars and Stripes unfurled, and a thousand childish voices, piping and foreign, fresh from the lands of oppression, hailing its fluttering folds. I cried like a baby.
MENDEL
I'm afraid youareone.
DAVID
Ah, but if you had heard them—"Flag of our Great Republic"—the words have gone singing at my heart ever since—
[He turns to the flag over the door.]
"Flag of our Great Republic, guardian of our homes, whose stars and stripes stand for Bravery, Purity, Truth, and Union, we salute thee. We, the natives of distant lands, who find
[Half-sobbing]
rest under thy folds, do pledge our hearts, our lives, our sacred honour to love and protect thee, our Country, and the liberty of the American people for ever."
[He ends almost hysterically.]
MENDEL [Soothingly]
Quite right. But you needn't get so excited over it.
DAVID
Not when one hears the roaring of the fires of God? Not when one sees the souls melting in the Crucible? Uncle, all those little Jews will grow up Americans!
MENDEL [Putting a pacifying hand on his shoulder and forcing him into a chair]
Sit down. I want to talk to you about your affairs.
DAVID [Sitting]
Myaffairs! But I've been talking about them all the time!
MENDEL
Nonsense, David.
[He sits beside him.]
Don't you think it's time you got into a wider world?
DAVID
Eh? This planet's wide enough for me.
MENDEL
Do be serious. You don't want to live all your life in this room.
DAVID [Looks round]
What's the matter with this room? It's princely.
MENDEL [Raising his hands in horror]
Princely!
DAVID
Imperial. Remember when I first saw it—after pigging a week in the rocking steerage, swinging in a berth as wide as my fiddle-case, hung near the cooking-engines; imagine the hot rancid smell of the food, the oil of the machinery, the odours of all that close-packed, sea-sick——
MENDEL [Putting his hand overDavid'smouth]
Don't! You make me ill! How could you ever bear it?
DAVID [Smiling]
I was quite happy—I only had to fancy I'd been shipwrecked, and that after clinging to a plank five days without food or water on the great lonely Atlantic, my frozen, sodden form had been picked up by this great safe steamer and given this delightful dry berth, regular meals, and the spectacle of all these friendly faces.... Do you know who was on board that boat? Quincy Davenport.
MENDEL
The lord of corn and oil?
DAVID [Smiling]
Yes, even we wretches in the steerage felt safe to think the lord was up above, we believed the company would never dare drownhim. But could even Quincy Davenport command a cabin like this?
[Waving his arm round the room.]
Why, uncle, we have a cabin worth a thousand dollars—a thousand dollars aweek—and what's more, it doesn't wobble!
[He plants his feet voluptuously upon the floor.]
MENDEL
Come, come, David, I asked you to be serious. Surely, some day you'd like your music produced?
DAVID [Jumps up]
Wouldn't it be glorious? To hear it all actually coming out of violins and 'cellos, drums and trumpets.
MENDEL
And you'd like it to go all over the world?
DAVID
All over the world and all down the ages.
MENDEL
But don't you see that unless you go and study seriously in Germany——?
[EnterKathleenfrom kitchen, carrying a furnished tea-tray with ear-shaped cakes, bread and butter, etc., and wearing a grotesque false nose.Mendelcries out in amaze.]
Kathleen!
DAVID [Roaring with boyish laughter]
Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!
KATHLEEN [Standing still with her tray]
Sure, what's the matter?
DAVID
Look in the glass!
KATHLEEN [Going to the mantel]
Houly Moses!
[She drops the tray, whichMendelcatches, and snatches off the nose.]
Och, I forgot to take it off—'twas the misthress gave it me—I put it on to cheer her up.
DAVID
Is she so miserable, then?
KATHLEEN
Terrible low, Mr. David, to-day beingPurim.
MENDEL
Purim!Is to-dayPurim?
[Gives her the tea-tray back.Kathleen, to take it, drops her nose and forgets to pick it up.]
DAVID
ButPurimis a merry time, Kathleen, like your Carnival. Haven't you read the book of Esther—how the Jews of Persia escaped massacre?
KATHLEEN
That's what the misthress is so miserable about. Ye don'tkeepthe Carnival. There's noses for both of ye in the kitchen—didn't I go with her to Hester Street to buy 'em?—but ye don't be axin' for 'em. And to see your noses layin' around so solemn and neglected, faith, it nearly makes me chry meself.
MENDEL [Bitterly to himself]
Who can remember aboutPurimin America?
DAVID [Half-smiling]
Poor granny, tell her to come in and I'll play herPurimjig.
MENDEL [Hastily]
No, no, David, not here—the visitors!
DAVID
Visitors? What visitors?
MENDEL [Impatiently]
That's just what I've been trying to explain.
DAVID
Well, I can play in the kitchen.
[He takes his violin. Exit to kitchen.Mendelsighs and shrugs his shoulders hopelessly at the boy's perversity, then fingers the cups and saucers.]
MENDEL [Anxiously]
Is that thebesttea-set?
KATHLEEN
Can't you see it's the Passover set!
[Ruefully]
And shpiled intirely it'll be now for our Passover.... And the misthress thought the visitors might like to thry some of herPurimcakes.
[Indicates ear-shaped cakes on tray.]
MENDEL [Bitterly]
Purimcakes!
[He turns his back on her and stares moodily out of thewindow.]
KATHLEEN [Mutters contemptuously]
Call yerself a Jew and you forgettin' to keepPurim!
[She is going back to the kitchen when a merry Slavic dance breaks out, softened by the door; her feet unconsciously get more and more into dance step, and at last she jigs out. As she opens and passes through the door, the music sounds louder.]
FRAU QUIXANO [Heard from kitchen]
Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Kathleen!!
[Mendel'sfeet, too, begin to take the swing of the music, and his feet dance as he stares out of the window. Suddenly the hoot of an automobile is heard, followed by the rattling up of the car.]
MENDEL
Ah, she has brought somebody swell!
[He throws open the doors and goes out eagerly to meet the visitors. The dance music goes on softly throughout the scene.]
QUINCY DAVENPORT [Outside]
Oh, thank you—I leave the coats in the car.
[Enter an instant laterQuincy DavenportandVera Revendal,Mendelin the rear.Verais dressed much as before, but with a motor veil, which she takes off during the scene.Davenportis a dude, aping the air of a European sporting clubman. Aged about thirty-five and well set-up, he wears an orchid and an intermittent eyeglass, and gives the impression of a coarse-fibred and patronisingly facetiousbut not bad-hearted man, spoiled by prosperity.]
MENDEL
Won't you be seated?
VERA
First let me introduce my friend, who is good enough to interest himself in your nephew—Mr. Quincy Davenport.
MENDEL [Struck of a heap]
Mr. Quincy Davenport! How strange!
VERA
What is strange?
MENDEL
David just mentioned Mr. Davenport's name—said they travelled to New York on the same boat.
QUINCY
Impossible! Always travel on my own yacht. Slow but select. Must have been another man of the same name—my dad. Ha! Ha! Ha!
MENDEL
Ah, of course. I thought you were too young.
QUINCY
My dad, Miss Revendal, is one of those antiquated Americans who are always in a hurry!
VERA
He burns coal and you burn time.
QUINCY
Precisely! Ha! Ha! Ha!
MENDEL
Won't you sit down—I'll go and prepare David.
VERA [Sitting]
You've not prepared him yet?
MENDEL
I've tried to more than once—but I never really got to——
[He smiles]
to Germany.
[Quincysits.]
VERA
Then prepare him forthreevisitors.
MENDEL
Three?
VERA
You see Mr. Davenport himself is no judge of music.
QUINCY [Jumps up]
I beg your pardon.
VERA
In manuscript.
QUINCY
Ah, of course not. Music should be heard, not seen—like that jolly jig. Is that your David?
MENDEL
Oh, you mustn't judge him by that. He's just fooling.
QUINCY
Oh, he'd better not fool with Poppy. Poppy's awful severe.
MENDEL
Poppy?
QUINCY
Pappelmeister—my private orchestra conductor.
MENDEL
Is ityourorchestra Pappelmeister conducts?
QUINCY
Well, I pay the piper—and the drummer too!
[He chuckles.]
MENDEL [Sadly]
Iwanted to play in it, but he turned me down.
QUINCY
I told you he was awful severe.
[ToVera]
He only allows me comic opera once a week. My wife calls him the Bismarck of the baton.
MENDEL [Reverently]
A great conductor!
QUINCY
Would he have a twenty-thousand-dollar job with me if he wasn't? Not that he'd get half that in the open market—only I have to stick it on to keep him for my guests exclusively.
[Looks at watch.]
But he ought to be here, confound him. A conductor should keep time, eh, Miss Revendal?
[He sniggers.]
MENDEL
I'll bring David. Won't you help yourselves to tea?
[ToVera]
You see there's lemon for you—as in Russia.
[Exit to kitchen—a moment afterwards the merry music stops in the middle of a bar.]
VERA
Thank you.
[Taking a cup.]
Doyoulike lemon, Mr. Davenport?
QUINCY [Flirtatiously]
That depends. The last I had was in Russia itself—from the fair hands of your mother, the Baroness.
VERA [Pained]
Please don't say my mother, my mother is dead.
QUINCY [Fatuously misunderstanding]
Oh, you have no call to be ashamed of your step-mother—she's a stunning creature; all the points of a tip-top Russian aristocrat, or Quincy Davenport's no judge of breed! Doesn't speak English like your father—but then the Baron is a wonder.
VERA [Takes up teapot]
Father once hoped to be British Ambassador—that's whyIhad an English governess. But you never told me you met him inRussia.
QUINCY
Surely! When I gave you all those love messages——
VERA [Pouring tea quickly]
You said you met him at Wiesbaden.
QUINCY
Yes, but we grew such pals I motored him and the Baroness back to St. Petersburg. Jolly country, Russia—they know how to live.
VERA [Coldly]
I saw more of those who know how to die.... Milk and sugar?
QUINCY [Sentimentally]
Oh, Miss Revendal! Have you forgotten?
VERA [Politely snubbing]
How should I remember?
QUINCY
You don't remember our first meeting? At the Settlement Bazaar? When I paid you a hundred dollars for every piece of sugar you put in?
VERA
Did you? Then I hope you drank syrup.
QUINCY
Ugh! I hate sugar—I sacrificed myself.
VERA
To the Settlement? How heroic of you!
QUINCY
No, not to the Settlement. To you!
VERA
Then I'll only put milk in.
QUINCY
I hate milk. But from you——
VERA
Then wemustfall back on the lemon.
QUINCY
I loathe lemon. But from——
VERA
Then you shall have your tea neat.
QUINCY
I detest tea, and here it would be particularly cheap and nasty. But——
VERA
Then you shall have a cake!
[She offers plate.]
QUINCY [Taking one]
Would they be eatable?
[Tasting it.]
Humph! Not bad.
[Sentimentally]
A little cake was all you would eat the only time you came to one of my private concerts. Don't you remember? We went down to supper together.
VERA [Taking his tea for herself and putting in lemon]
I shall always remember the delicious music Herr Pappelmeister gave us.
QUINCY
How unkind of you!
VERA
Unkind?
[She sips the tea and puts down the cup.]
To be grateful for the music?
QUINCY
You know what I mean—to forgetme!
[He tries to take her hand.]
VERA [Rising]
Aren't you forgetting yourself?
QUINCY
You mean because I'm married to that patched-and-painted creature? She's hankering for the stage again, the old witch.
VERA
Hush! Marriages with comic opera stars are not usually domestic idylls.
QUINCY
I fell a victim to my love of music.
VERA [Murmurs, smiling]
Music!
QUINCY
And I hadn't yet met the right breed—the true blue blood of Europe. I'll get a divorce.
[Approaching her]
Vera!
VERA [Retreating]
You will make me sorry I came to you.
QUINCY
No, don't say that—promised the Baron I'd always do all I could for——
VERA
You promised? You dared discuss my affairs?
QUINCY
It was your father began it. When he found I knew you, he almost wept with emotion. He asked a hundred questions about your life in America.
VERA
His life and mine are for ever separate. He is a Reactionary, I a Radical.
QUINCY
But he loves you dreadfully—he can't understand why you should go slaving away summer and winter in a Settlement—you a member of the Russian nobility!
VERA [With faint smile]
I might say,noblesse oblige. But the truth is, I earn my living that way. It would doyougood to slave there too!
QUINCY [Eagerly]
Would they chain us together? I'd come to-morrow.
[He moves nearer her. There is a double knock at the door.]
VERA [Relieved]
Here's Pappelmeister!
QUINCY
Bother Poppy—why is he so darned punctual?
[EnterKathleenfrom the kitchen.]
VERA [Smiling]
Ah, you're still here.
KATHLEEN
And why would I not be here?
[She goes to open the door.]
PAPPELMEISTER
Mr. Quixano?
KATHLEEN
Yes, come in.
[EnterHerr Pappelmeister, a burly German figure with a leonine head, spectacles, and a mane of white hair—a figure that makes his employer look even coarser. He carries an umbrella, which he never lets go. He is at first grave and silent, which makes any burst of emotion the more striking. He andQuincy Davenportsuggest a picture of "Dignity and Impudence." His English, as roughly indicated in the text, is extremely Teutonic.]
QUINCY
You're late, Poppy!
[Pappelmeistersilently bows toVera.]
VERA [Smilingly goes and offers her hand.]
Proud to meet you, Herr Pappelmeister!
QUINCY
Excuse me——
[Introducing]
Miss Revendal!—I forgot you and Poppy hadn't been introduced—curiously enough it was at Wiesbaden I picked him up too—he was conducting the opera—your folks were in my box. I don't think I ever met anyone so mad on music as the Baron. And the Baroness told me he had retired from active service in the Army because of the torture of listening to the average military band. Ha! Ha! Ha!
VERA
Yes, my father once hopedmymusic would comfort him.
[She smiles sadly.]
Poor father! But a soldier must bear defeat. Herr Pappelmeister, may I not give you some tea?
[She sits again at the table.]
QUINCY
Tea! Lager's more in Poppy's line.
[He chuckles.]
PAPPELMEISTER [Gravely]
Bitte.Tea.
[She pours out, he sits.]
Lemon. Four lumps....Nun, five!... Or six!
[She hands him the cup.]
Danke.
[As he receives the cup, he utters an exclamation, forKathleenafter opening the door has lingered on, hunting around everywhere, and having finally crawled under the table has now brushed against his leg.]
VERA
What are you looking for?
KATHLEEN [Her head emerging]
My nose!
[They are all startled and amused.]
VERA
Your nose?
KATHLEEN
I forgot me nose!
QUINCY
Well, follow your nose—and you'll find it. Ha! Ha! Ha!
KATHLEEN [Pouncing on it]
Here it is!
[Picks it up near the armchair.]
OMNES
Oh!
KATHLEEN
Sure, it's gotten all dirthy.
[She takes out a handkerchief and wipes the nose carefully.]
QUINCY
But why do you want a nose like that?
KATHLEEN [Proudly]
Bekaz we're Hebrews!
QUINCY
What!
VERA
Whatdoyou mean?
KATHLEEN
It's our Carnival to-day!Purim.
[She carries her nose carefully and piously toward the kitchen.]
VERA
Oh! I see.
[ExitKathleen.]
QUINCY [In horror]
Miss Revendal, you don't mean to say you've brought me to a Jew!
VERA
I'm afraid I have. I was thinking only of his genius,not his race. And you see, so many musicians are Jews.
QUINCY
Notmymusicians. No Jew's harp in my orchestra, eh?
[He sniggers.]
I wouldn't have a Jew if he paidme.
VERA
I daresay you have some, all the same.
QUINCY
Impossible. Poppy! Are there any Jews in my orchestra?
PAPPELMEISTER [Removing the cup from his mouth and speaking with sepulchral solemnity]
Do you mean are dere any Christians?
QUINCY [In horror]
Gee-rusalem! Perhapsyou'rea Jew!
PAPPELMEISTER [Gravely]
I haf not de honour. But, if you brefer, I will gut out from my brogrammes all de Chewish composers.Was?
QUINCY
Why, of course. Fire 'em out, every mother's son of 'em.
PAPPELMEISTER [Unsmiling]
Also—no more comic operas!
QUINCY
What!!!
PAPPELMEISTER
Dey write all de comic operas!
QUINCY
Brute!
[Pappelmeister'schuckle is heard gurgling in his cup. Re-enterMendelfrom kitchen.]
MENDEL [ToVera]
I'm so sorry—I can't get him to come in—he's terrible shy.
QUINCY
Won't face the music, eh?
[He sniggers.]
VERA
Did you tell himIwas here?
MENDEL
Of course.
VERA [Disappointed]
Oh!
MENDEL
But I've persuaded him to let me show his MS.
VERA [With forced satisfaction]
Oh, well, that's all we want.
[Mendelgoes to the desk, opens it, and gets the MS. and offers it toQuincy Davenport.]
QUINCY
Not for me—Poppy!
[Mendeloffers it toPappelmeister, who takes it solemnly.]
MENDEL [Anxiously toPappelmeister]
Of course you must remember his youth and his lack of musical education——
PAPPELMEISTER
Bitte, das Pult!
[MendelmovesDavid'smusic-stand from the corner to the centre of the room.Pappelmeisterputs MS. on it.]
So!
[All eyes centre on him eagerly,Mendelstanding uneasily, the others sitting.Pappelmeisterpolishes his glasses with irritating elaborateness and weary "achs," then reads in absolute silence. A pause.]
QUINCY [Bored by the silence]
But won't you play it to us?
PAPPELMEISTER
Blay it? Am I an orchestra? I blay it in my brain.
[He goes on reading, his brow gets wrinkled. He ruffles his hair unconsciously. All watch him anxiously—he turns the page.]
So!
VERA [Anxiously]
You don't seem to like it!
PAPPELMEISTER
I do not comprehend it.
MENDEL
I knew it was crazy—it is supposed to be about America or a Crucible or something. And of course there are heaps of mistakes.
VERA
That is why I am suggesting to Mr. Davenport to send him to Germany.
QUINCY
I'll send as many Jews as you like to Germany. Ha! Ha! Ha!
PAPPELMEISTER [Absorbed, turning pages]
Ach!—ach!—So!
QUINCY
I'd even lend my own yacht to take 'em back. Ha! Ha! Ha!
VERA
Sh! We're disturbing Herr Pappelmeister.
QUINCY
Oh, Poppy's all right.
PAPPELMEISTER [Sublimely unconscious]
Ach so—so—SO! Das ist etwas neues!
[His umbrella begins to beat time, moving more and more vigorously, till at last he is conducting elaborately, stretching out his left palm for pianissimo passages, and raising it vigorously for forte, with every now and then an exclamation.]
Wunderschön!... pianissimo!—now the flutes! Clarinets!Ach, ergötzlich... bassoons and drums!...Fortissimo!... Kolossal! Kolossal!
[Conducting in a fury of enthusiasm.]
VERA [Clapping her hands]
Bravo! Bravo! I'm so excited!
QUINCY [Yawning]
Then it isn't bad, Poppy?
PAPPELMEISTER [Not listening, never ceasing to conduct]
Undde harp solo ...ach, reizend!... Second violins——!
QUINCY
But Poppy! We can't be here all day.
PAPPELMEISTER [Not listening, continuing pantomime action]
Sh! Sh!Piano.
QUINCY [Outraged]
Sh tome!
[Rises.]
VERA
He doesn't know it's you.
QUINCY
But look here, Poppy——
[He seizes the wildly-moving umbrella. Blank stare ofPappelmeistergradually returning to consciousness.]
PAPPELMEISTER
Was giebt's...?
QUINCY
We've had enough.
PAPPELMEISTER [Indignant]
Enough? Enough? Of such a beaudiful symphony?
QUINCY
It may be beautiful to you, but to us it's damn dull. See here, Poppy, if you're satisfied that the young fellow has sufficient talent to be sent to study in Germany——
PAPPELMEISTER
In Germany! Germany has nodings to teach him, he has to teach Germany.
VERA
Bravo!
[She springs up.]
MENDEL
I always said he was a genius!
QUINCY
Well, at that rate you could put this stuff of his in one of my programmes.Sinfonia Americana, eh?
VERA
Oh, thatisgood of you.
PAPPELMEISTER
I should be broud to indroduce it to de vorld.
VERA
And will it be played in that wonderful marble music-room overlooking the Hudson?
QUINCY
Sure. Before five hundred of the smartest folk in America.
MENDEL
Oh, thank you, thank you. That will mean fame!
QUINCY
And dollars. Don't forget the dollars.
MENDEL
I'll run and tell him.
[He hastens into the kitchen,Pappelmeisteris re-absorbed in the MS., but no longer conducting.]
QUINCY
You see, I'll help even a Jew for your sake.
VERA
Hush!
[IndicatingPappelmeister.]
QUINCY
Oh, Poppy's in the moon.
VERA
You must help him for his own sake, for art's sake.
QUINCY
And why not for heart's sake—for my sake?