VERA [Blushing]
You have seen David?
BARON [Hoarsely]
David!
[He clenches his fist.]
BARONESS [Half aside, as much gestured as spoken]
Sh! Leave it to me.
[Sweetly.]
Oh, no, ve have not seen David.
VERA [Looking from one to the other]
Not seen—? Then what—whom are you talking about?
BARONESS
About zat handsome, quite adoràhble Mr. Davenport.
VERA
Davenport!
BARONESS
Who combines ze manners of Europe viz ze millions of America!
VERA [Breaks into girlish laughter]
Ha! Ha! Ha! So Mr. Davenport has been talking to you! But you all seem to forget one small point—bigamy is not permitted even to millionaires.
BARONESS
Ah, not boz at vonce, but——
VERA
And do you think I would take another woman's leavings? No, not even if she were dead.
BARONESS
You are insulting!
VERA
I beg your pardon—I wasn't even thinking of you. Father, to put an end at once to this absurd conversation, let me inform you I am already engaged.
BARON [Trembling, hoarse]
By name, David.
VERA
Yes—David Quixano.
BARON
A Jew!
VERA
How did you know? Yes, he is a Jew, a noble Jew.
BARON
A Jew noble!
[He laughs bitterly.]
VERA
Yes—even as you esteem nobility—by pedigree. In Spain his ancestors were hidalgos, favourites at the Court of Ferdinand and Isabella; but in the great expulsion of 1492 they preferred exile in Poland to baptism.
BARON
And you, a Revendal, would mate with an unbaptized dog?
VERA
Dog! You call my husband a dog!
BARON
Husband! God in heaven—are you married already?
VERA
No! But not being unemployed millionaires like Mr. Davenport, we hold even our troth eternal.
[Calmer]
Our poverty, not your prejudice, stands in the way of our marriage. But David is a musician of genius, and some day——
BARONESS
A fiddler in a beer-hall! She prefers a fiddler to a millionaire of ze first families of America!
VERA [Contemptuously]
First families! I told you David's family came to Poland in 1492—some months before America was discovered.
BARON
Christ save us! You have become a Jewess!
VERA
No more than David has become a Christian. We were already at one—all honest people are. Surely, father, all religions must serve the same God—since there is only one God to serve.
BARONESS
But ze girl is an ateist!
BARON
Silence, Katusha! Leave me to deal with my daughter.
[Changing tone to pathos, taking her face between his hands]
Oh, Vera,Verotschka, my dearest darling, I had sooner you had remained buried in Siberia than that——
[He breaks down.]
VERA [Touched, sitting beside him]
For you, father, Iwasas though buried in Siberia. Why did you come here to stab yourself afresh?
BARON
I wish to God I had come here earlier. I wish I had not been so nervous of Russian spies. Ah,Verotschka, if you only knew how I have pored over the newspaper pictures of you, and the reports of your life in this Settlement!
VERA
You asked me not to send letters.
BARON
I know, I know—and yet sometimes I felt as if I could risk Siberia myself to read your dear, dainty handwriting again.
VERA [Still more softened]
Father, if you love me so much, surely you will love David a little too—for my sake.
BARON [Dazed]
I—love—a Jew? Impossible.
[He shudders.]
VERA [Moving away, icily]
Then so is any love from me to you. You have chosen to come back into my life, and after our years of pain and separation I would gladly remember only my old childish affection. But not if you hate David. You must make your choice.
BARON [Pitifully]
Choice? I have no choice. Can I carry mountains? No more can I love a Jew.
[He rises resolutely.]
BARONESS [Who has turned away, fretting and fuming, turns back to her husband, clapping her hands]
Bravo!
VERA [Going to him again, coaxingly]
I don't ask you to carry mountains, but to drop the mountains you carry—the mountains of prejudice. Wait till you see him.
BARON
I will not see him.
VERA
Then you will hear him—he is going to make music for all the world. You can't escape him,papasha, you with your love of music, any more than you escaped Rubinstein.
BARONESS
Rubinstein vas not a Jew.
VERA
Rubinstein was a Jewish boy-genius, just like my David.
BARONESS
But his parents vere baptized soon after his birth. I had it from his patroness, ze Grande Duchesse Helena Pavlovna.
VERA
And did the water outside change the blood within? Rubinstein was our Court pianist and was decorated by the Tsar. And you, the Tsar's servant, dare to say you could not meet a Rubinstein.
BARON [Wavering]
I did not say I could not meet aRubinstein.
VERA
You practically said so. David will be even greater than Rubinstein. Come, father, I'll telephone for him; he is only round the corner.
BARONESS [Excitedly]
Ve vill not see him!
VERA [Ignoring her]
He shall bring his violin and play to you. There! You see, little father, you are already less frowning—now take that last wrinkle out of your forehead.
[She caresses his forehead.]
Never mind! David will smooth it out with his music as his Biblical ancestor smoothed that surly old Saul.
BARONESS
Ve vill not hear him!
BARON
Silence, Katusha! Oh, my little Vera, I little thought when I let you study music at Petersburg——
VERA [Smiling wheedlingly]
That I should marry a musician. But you see, little father, it all ends in music after all. Now I will go and perform on the telephone, I'm not angel enough to bear one in here.
[She goes toward the door of the hall, smiling happily.]
BARON [With a last agonized cry of resistance]
Halt!
VERA [Turning, makes mock military salute]
Yes,papasha.
BARON [Overcome by her roguish smile]
You—I—he—do you love this J—this David so much?
VERA [Suddenly tragic]
It would kill me to give him up.
[Resuming smile]
But don't let us talk of funerals on this happy day of sunshine and reunion.
[She kisses her hand to him and exit toward the hall.]
BARONESS [Angrily]
You are in her hands as vax!
BARON
She is the only child I have ever had, Katusha. Her baby arms curled round my neck; in her baby sorrows her wet face nestled against little father's.
[He drops on a chair, and leans his head on the table.]
BARONESS [Approaching tauntingly]
So you vill have a Jew son-in-law!
BARON
You don't know what it meant to me to feel her arms round me again.
BARONESS
And a hook-nosed brat to call you grandpapa, and nestle his greasy face against yours.
BARON [Banging his fist on the table]
Don't drive me mad!
[His head drops again.]
BARONESS
Then drive me home—I vill not meet him.... Alexis!
[She taps him on the shoulder with her parasol. He does not move.]
Alexis Ivanovitch! Do you not listen!...
[She stamps her foot.]
Zen I go to ze hotel alone.
[She walks angrily toward the hall. Just before she reaches the door, it opens, and the servant ushers inHerr Pappelmeisterwith his umbrella. TheBaroness'stone changes instantly to a sugared society accent.]
How do you do, Herr Pappelmeister?
[She extends her hand, which he takes limply.]
You don't remember me?Non?
[Exit servant.]
Ve vere with Mr. Quincy Davenport at Wiesbaden—-ze Baroness Revendal.
PAPPELMEISTER
So!
[He drops her hand.]
BARONESS
Yes, it vas ze Baron's entousiasm for you zat got you your present position.
PAPPELMEISTER [Arching his eyebrows]
So!
BARONESS
Yes—zere he is!
[She turns toward theBaron.]
Alexis, rouse yourself!
[She taps him with her parasol.]
Zis American air makes ze Baron so sleepy.
BARON [Rises dazedly and bows]
Charmed to meet you, Herr——
BARONESS
Pappelmeister! You remember ze great Pappelmeister.
BARON [Waking up, becomes keen]
Ah, yes, yes, charmed—why do you never bring your orchestra to Russia, Herr Pappelmeister?
PAPPELMEISTER [Surprised]
Russia? It never occurred to me to go to Russia—she seems so uncivilised.
BARONESS [Angry]
Uncivilised! Vy, ve have ze finest restaurants in ze vorld! And ze best telephones!
PAPPELMEISTER
So?
BARONESS
Yes, and the most beautiful ballets—Russia is affrightfully misunderstood.
[She sweeps away in burning indignation.Pappelmeistermurmurs in deprecation. Re-enterVerafrom the hall. She is gay and happy.]
VERA
He is coming round at once——
[She utters a cry of pleased surprise.]
Herr Pappelmeister! This is indeed a pleasure!
[She givesPappelmeisterher hand, which he kisses.]
BARONESS [Sotto voce to theBaron]
Let us go before he comes.
[TheBaronignores her, his eyes hungrily onVera.]
PAPPELMEISTER [ToVera]
But I come again—you have visitors.
VERA [Smiling]
Only my father and——
PAPPELMEISTER [Surprised]
Your fader?Ach so!
[He taps his forehead.]
Revendal!
BARONESS [Sotto voce to theBaron]
I vill not meet a Jew, I tell you.
PAPPELMEISTER
But you vill vant to talk to your fader, and allIvant is Mr. Quixano's address. De Irish maiden at de house says de bird is flown.
VERA [Gravely]
I don't know if I ought to tell you where the new nest is——
PAPPELMEISTER [Disappointed]
Ach!
VERA [Smiling]
But I will produce the bird.
PAPPELMEISTER [Looks round]
You vill broduce Mr. Quixano?
VERA [Merrily]
By clapping my hands.
[Mysteriously]
I am a magician.
BARON [Whose eyes have been glued onVera]
You are, indeed! I don't know how you have bewitched me.
[TheBaronessglares at him.]
VERA
Dear little father!
[She crosses to him and strokes his hair.]
Herr Pappelmeister, tell father about Mr. Quixano's music.
PAPPELMEISTER [Shaking his head]
Music cannot be talked about.
VERA [Smiling]
That's a nasty one for the critics. But tell father what a genius Da—Mr. Quixano is.
BARONESS [Desperately intervening]
Good-bye, Vera.
[She thrusts out her hand, whichVeratakes.]
I have a headache. You muz excuse me. Herr Pappelmeister,au plaisir de vous revoir.
[Pappelmeisterhastens to the door, which he holds open. TheBaronessturns and glares at theBaron.]
BARON [Agitated]
Let me see you to the auto——
BARONESS
You could see me to ze hotel almost as quick.
BARON [ToVera]
I won't say good-bye,Verotschka—I shall be back.
[He goes toward the hall, then turns.]
You will keep your Rubinstein waiting?
[Verasmiles lovingly.]
BARONESS
You are keepingmevaiting.
[He turns quickly. ExeuntBaronandBaroness.]
PAPPELMEISTER
And now broduce Mr. Quixano!
VERA
Not so fast. What are you going to do with him?
PAPPELMEISTER
Put him in my orchestra!
VERA [Ecstatic]
Oh, you dear!
[Then her tone changes to disappointment.]
But he won't go into Mr. Davenport's orchestra.
PAPPELMEISTER
It is no more Mr. Davenport's orchestra. He firedme, don't you remember? Now I boss—how say you in American?
VERA [Smiling]
Your own show.
PAPPELMEISTER
Ja, my own band. Ven I left dat comic opera millionaire, dey all shtick to me almost to von man.
VERA
How nice of them!
PAPPELMEISTER
All egsept de Christian—he vas de von man. He shtick to de millionaire. So I lose my brincipal first violin.
VERA
And Mr. Quixano is to—oh, how delightful!
[She claps her hands girlishly.]
PAPPELMEISTER [Looks round mischievously]
Ach, de magic failed.
VERA [Puzzled]
Eh!
PAPPELMEISTER
You do not broduce him. You clap de hands—but you do not broduce him. Ha! Ha! Ha!
[He breaks into a great roar of genial laughter.]
VERA [Chiming in merrily]
Ha! Ha! Ha! But I said I have to know everything first. Will he get a good salary?
PAPPELMEISTER
Enough to keep a vife and eight children!
VERA [Blushing]
But he hasn't a——
PAPPELMEISTER
No, but de Christian had—he get de same—I mean salary, ha! ha! ha! not children. Den he can be independent—vedder de fool-public like his American symphony or not—nicht wahr?
VERA
Youaregood to us——
[Hastily correcting herself]
to Mr. Quixano.
PAPPELMEISTER [Smiling]
And aldough you cannot broduce him, I broduce his symphony.Was?
VERA
Oh, Herr Pappelmeister! You are an angel.
PAPPELMEISTER
Nein, nein, mein liebes Kind!I fear I haf not de correct shape for an angel.
[He laughs heartily. A knock at the door from the hall.]
VERA [Merrily]
NowI clap my hands.
[She claps.]
Come!
[The door opens.]
Behold him!
[She makes a conjurer's gesture.David, bare-headed, carrying his fiddle, opens the door, and stands staring in amazement atPappelmeister.]
DAVID
I thought you asked me to meet your father.
PAPPELMEISTER
She is a magician. She has changed us.
[He waves his umbrella.]
Hey presto,was? Ha! Ha! Ha!
[He goes toDavid, and shakes hands.]
Und wie geht's?I hear you've left home.
DAVID
Yes, but I've such a bully cabin——
PAPPELMEISTER [Alarmed]
You are sailing avay?
VERA [Laughing]
No, no—that's only his way of describing his two-dollar-a-month garret.
DAVID
Yes—my state-room on the top deck!
VERA [Smiling]
Six foot square.
DAVID
But three other passengers aren't squeezed in, and it never pitches and tosses. It's heavenly.
PAPPELMEISTER [Smiling]
And from heaven you flew down to blay in dat beer-hall.Was?
[Davidlooks surprised.]
Iheard you.
DAVID
You! What on earth did you gotherefor?
PAPPELMEISTER
Vat on earth does one go to a beer-hall for? Ha! Ha! Ha! For vawter! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ven I hear you blay, I dink mit myself—if my blans succeed and I get Carnegie Hall for Saturday Symphony Concerts, dat boy shall be one of my first violins.Was?
[He slapsDavidon the left shoulder.]
DAVID [Overwhelmed, ecstatic, yet wincing a little at the slap on his wound.]
Be one of your first——
[Remembering]
Oh, but it is impossible.
VERA [Alarmed]
Mr. Quixano! You must not refuse.
DAVID
But does Herr Pappelmeister know about the wound in my shoulder?
PAPPELMEISTER [Agitated]
You haf been vounded?
DAVID
Only a legacy from Russia—but it twinges in some weathers.
PAPPELMEISTER
And de pain ubsets your blaying?
DAVID
Not so much the pain—it's all the dreadful memories—
VERA [Alarmed]
Don't talk of them.
DAVID
Imustexplain to Herr Pappelmeister—it wouldn't be fair. Even now
[Shuddering]
there comes up before me the bleeding body of my mother, the cold, fiendish face of the Russian officer, supervising the slaughter——
VERA
Hush! Hush!
DAVID [Hysterically]
Oh, that butcher's face—there it is—hovering in the air, that narrow, fanatical forehead, that——
PAPPELMEISTER [Brings down his umbrella with a bang]
Schluss!No man ever dared break down under me. My baton will beat avay all dese faces and fancies. Out with your violin!
[He taps his umbrella imperiously on the table.]
Keinen Mut verlieren!
[Davidtakes out his violin from its case and puts it to his shoulder,Pappelmeisterkeeping up a hypnotic torrent of encouraging German cries.]
Also! Fertig! Anfangen!
[He raises and waves his umbrella like a baton.]
Von, dwo, dree, four——
DAVID [With a great sigh of relief]
Thanks, thanks—they are gone already.
PAPPELMEISTER
Ha! Ha! Ha! You see. And ven ve blay your American symphony——
DAVID [Dazed]
You will play my American symphony?
VERA [Disappointed]
Don't you jump for joy?
DAVID [Still dazed but ecstatic]
Herr Pappelmeister!
[Changing back to despondency]
But what certainty is there your Carnegie Hall audience would understand me? It would be the same smart set.
[He drops dejectedly into a chair and lays down his violin.]
PAPPELMEISTER
Ach, nein.Of course, some—ve can't keep peoble out merely because dey pay for deir seats.Was?
[He laughs.]
DAVID
It was always my dream to play it first to the new immigrants—those who have known the pain of the old world and the hope of the new.
PAPPELMEISTER
Try it on the dog.Was?
DAVID
Yes—on the dog that here will become a man!
PAPPELMEISTER [Shakes his head]
I fear neider dogs nor men are a musical breed.
DAVID
The immigrants will not understand my music with their brains or their ears, but with their hearts and their souls.
VERA
Well, then, why shouldn't it be done here—on our Roof-Garden?
DAVID [Jumping up]
ABas-Kôl! ABas-Kôl!
VERA
Whatareyou talking?
DAVID
Hebrew! It means a voice from heaven.
VERA
Ah, but will Herr Pappelmeister consent?
PAPPELMEISTER [Bowing]
Who can disobey a voice from heaven?... But ven?
VERA
On some holiday evening.... Why not the Fourth of July?
DAVID [Still more ecstatic]
AnotherBas-Kôl!... My American Symphony! Played to the People! Under God's sky! On Independence Day! With all the——
[Waving his hand expressively, sighs voluptuously.]
That will be too perfect.
PAPPELMEISTER [Smiling]
Dat has to be seen. You must permit me to invite——
DAVID [In horror]
Not the musical critics!
PAPPELMEISTER [Raising both hands with umbrella in equal horror]
Gott bewahre!But I'd like to invite all de persons in New York who really undershtand music.
VERA
Splendid! But should we have room?
PAPPELMEISTER
Room? I vant four blaces.
VERA [Smiling]
You are severe! Mr. Davenport was right.
PAPPELMEISTER [Smiling]
Perhaps de oders vill be out of town.Also!
[Holding out his hand toDavid]
You come to Carnegie to-morrow at eleven. Yes?Fräulein.
[Kisses her hand.]
Auf Wiedersehen!
[Going]
On de Roof-Garden—nicht wahr?
VERA [Smiling]
Wind and weather permitting.
PAPPELMEISTER
I haf alvays mein umbrella.Was?Ha! Ha! Ha!
VERA [Murmuring]
Isn't he a darling? Isn't he——?
PAPPELMEISTER [Pausing suddenly]
But ve never settled de salary.
DAVID
Salary!
[He looks dazedly from one to the other.]
For the honour of playing in your orchestra!
PAPPELMEISTER
Shylock!!... Never mind—ve settle de pound of flesh to-morrow.Lebe wohl!
[Exit, the door closes.]
VERA [Suddenly miserable]
How selfish of you, David!
DAVID
Selfish, Vera?
VERA
Yes—not to think of your salary. It looks as if you didn't really love me.
DAVID
Not love you? I don't understand.
VERA [Half in tears]
Just when I was so happy to think that now we shall be able to marry.
DAVID
Shall we? Marry? On my salary as first violin?
VERA
Not if you don't want to.
DAVID
Sweetheart! Can it be true? How do you know?
VERA [Smiling]
I'mnot a Jew. I asked.
DAVID
My guardian angel!
[Embracing her. He sits down, she lovingly at his feet.]
VERA [Looking up at him]
Then youdocare?
DAVID
What a question!
VERA
And you don't think wholly of your music and forget me?
DAVID
Why, you are behind all I write and play!
VERA [With jealous passion]
Behind? But I want to be before! I want you to love me first, before everything.
DAVID
I do put you before everything.
VERA
You are sure? And nothing shall part us?
DAVID
Not all the seven seas could part you and me.
VERA
And you won't grow tired of me—not even when you are world-famous——?
DAVID [A shade petulant]
Sweetheart, considering I should owe it all to you——
VERA [Drawing his head down to her breast]
Oh, David! David! Don't be angry with poor little Vera if she doubts, if she wants to feel quite sure. You see father has talked so terribly, and after all I was brought up in the Greek Church, and we oughtn't to cause all this suffering unless——
DAVID
Those who love usmustsuffer, andwemust suffer in their suffering. It is live things, not dead metals, that are being melted in the Crucible.
VERA
Still, we ought to soften the suffering as much as——
DAVID
Yes, but only Time can heal it.
VERA [With transition to happiness]
But father seems half-reconciled already! Dear little father, if only he were not so narrow about Holy Russia!
DAVID
If onlymyfolks were not so narrow about Holy Judea! But the ideals of the fathers shall not be foisted on the children. Each generation must live and die for its own dream.
VERA
Yes, David, yes. You are the prophet of the living present. I am so happy.
[She looks up wistfully.]
You are happy, too?
DAVID
I am dazed—I cannot realise that all our troubles have melted away—it is so sudden.
VERA
You, David? Who always see everything in such rosy colours? Now that the whole horizon is one great splendid rose, you almost seem as if gazing out toward a blackness——
DAVID
We Jews are cheerful in gloom, mistrustful in joy. It is our tragic history——
VERA
But you have come to end the tragic history; to throw off the coils of the centuries.
DAVID [Smiling again]
Yes, yes, Vera. You bring back my sunnier self. I must be a pioneer on the lost road of happiness. To-day shall be all joy, all lyric ecstasy.
[He takes up his violin.]
Yes, I will make my old fiddle-stringsburstwith joy!
[He dashes into a jubilant tarantella. After a few bars there is a knock at the door leading from the hall; their happy faces betray no sign of hearing it; then the door slightly opens, andBaron Revendal'shead looks hesitatingly in. AsDavidperceives it, his features work convulsively, his string breaks with a tragic snap, and he totters backward intoVera'sarms. Hoarsely]
The face! The face!
VERA
David—my dearest!
DAVID [His eyes closed, his violin clasped mechanically]
Don't be anxious—I shall be better soon—I oughtn't to have talked about it—the hallucination has never been so complete.
VERA
Don't speak—rest against Vera's heart—till it has passed away.
[TheBaroncomes dazedly forward, half with a shocked sense ofVera'simpropriety, half to relieve her of her burden. She motions him back.]
This is the work of your Holy Russia.
BARON [Harshly]
What is the matter with him?
[David'sviolin and bow drop from his grasp and fall on the table.]
DAVID
The voice!
[He opens his eyes, stares frenziedly at theBaron, then struggles out ofVera'sarms.]
VERA [Trying to stop him]
Dearest——
DAVID
Let me go.
[He moves like a sleep-walker toward the paralysedBaron, puts out his hand, and testingly touches the face.]
BARON [Shuddering back]
Hands off!
DAVID [With a great cry]
A-a-a-h! It is flesh and blood. No, it is stone—the man of stone! Monster!
[He raises his hand frenziedly.]
BARON [Whipping out his pistol]
Back, dog!
[Veradarts between them with a shriek.]
DAVID [Frozen again, surveying the pistol stonily]
Ha! You wantmylife, too. Is the cry not yet loud enough?
BARON
The cry?
DAVID [Mystically]
Can you not hear it? The voice of the blood of my brothers crying out against you from the ground? Oh, how can you bear not to turn that pistol against yourself and execute upon yourself the justice which Russia denies you?
BARON
Tush!
[Pocketing the pistol a little shamefacedly.]
VERA
Justice on himself? For what?
DAVID
For crimes beyond human penalty, for obscenities beyond human utterance, for——
VERA
You are raving.
DAVID
Would to heaven I were!
VERA
But this is my father.
DAVID
Your father!... God!
[He staggers.]
BARON [Drawing her to him]
Come, Vera, I told you——
VERA [Frantically, shrinking back]
Don't touch me!
BARON [Starting back in amaze]
Vera!
VERA [Hoarsely]
Say it's not true.
BARON
What is not true?
VERA
What David said. It was the mob that massacred—youhad no hand in it.
BARON [Sullenly]
I was there with my soldiers.
DAVID [Leaning, pale, against a chair, hisses]
And you looked on with that cold face of hate—while my mother—my sister——
BARON [Sullenly]
I could not see everything.
DAVID
Now and again you ordered your soldiers to fire——
VERA [In joyous relief]
Ah, hedidcheck the mob—hedidtell his soldiers to fire.
DAVID
At any Jew who tried to defend himself.
VERA
Great God!
[She falls on the sofa and buries her head on the cushion, moaning]
Is there no pity in heaven?
DAVID
There was no pity on earth.
BARON
It was the People avenging itself, Vera. The People rose like a flood. It had centuries of spoliation to wipe out. The voice of the People is the voice of God.
VERA [Moaning]
But you could have stopped them.
BARON
I had no orders to defend the foes of Christ and
[Crossing himself]
the Tsar. The People——
VERA
But you could have stopped them.
BARON
Who can stop a flood? I did my duty. A soldier's duty is not so pretty as a musician's.
VERA
But you could have stopped them.
BARON [Losing all patience]
Silence! You talk like an ignorant girl, blinded by passion. Thepogromis a holy crusade. Are we Russians the first people to crush down the Jew? No—from the dawn of history the nations have had to stamp upon him—the Egyptians, the Assyrians, the Persians, the Babylonians, the Greeks, the Romans——
DAVID
Yes, it is true. Even Christianity did not invent hatred. But not till Holy Church arose were we burnt at the stake, and not till Holy Russia arose were our babes torn limb from limb. Oh, it is too much! Delivered from Egypt four thousand years ago, to be slaves to the Russian Pharaoh to-day.
[He falls as if kneeling on a chair, and, leans his head on the rail.]
O God, shall we always be broken on the wheel of history? How long, O Lord, how long?
BARON [Savagely]
Till you are all stamped out, ground into your dirt.
[Tenderly]
Look up, little Vera! You saw howpapashaloves you—how he was ready to hold out his hand—and how this cur tried to bite it. Be calm—tell him a daughter of Russia cannot mate with dirt.
VERA
Father, I will be calm. I will speak without passion or blindness. I will tell David the truth. I was never absolutely sure of my love for him—perhaps that was why I doubted his love for me—often after our enchanted moments there would come a nameless uneasiness, some vague instinct, relic of the long centuries of Jew-loathing, some strange shrinking from his Christless creed——
BARON [With an exultant cry]
Ah! She is a Revendal.
VERA
But now——
[She rises and walks firmly towardDavid]
now, David, I come to you, and I say in the words of Ruth, thy people shall be my people and thy God my God!
[She stretches out her hands toDavid.]
BARON
You shameless——!
[He stops as he perceivesDavidremains impassive.]
VERA [With agonised cry]
David!
DAVID [In low, icy tones]
You cannot come to me. There is a river of blood between us.
VERA
Were it seven seas, our love must cross them.
DAVID
Easy words to you. You never saw that red flood bearing the mangled breasts of women and the spattered brains of babes and sucklings. Oh!
[He covers his eyes with his hands. TheBaronturns away in gloomy impotence. At lastDavidbegins to speak quietly, almost dreamily.]
It was your Easter, and the air was full of holy bells and the streets of holy processions—priests in black and girls in white and waving palms and crucifixes, and everybody exchanging Easter eggs and kissing one another three times on the mouth in token of peace and goodwill, and even the Jew-boy felt the spirit of love brooding over the earth, though he did not then know that this Christ, whom holy chants proclaimed re-risen, was born in the form of a brotherJew. And what added to the peace and holy joy was that our own Passover was shining before us. My mother had already made the raisin wine, and my greedy little brother Solomon had sipped it on the sly that very morning. We were all at home—all except my father—he was away in the little Synagogue at which he was cantor. Ah, such a voice he had—a voice of tears and thunder—when he prayed it was like a wounded soul beating at the gates of Heaven—but he sang even more beautifully in the ritual of home, and how we were looking forward to his hymns at the Passover table——
[He breaks down. TheBaronhas gradually turned round under the spell ofDavid'sstory and now listens hypnotised.]
I was playing my cracked little fiddle. Little Miriam was making her doll dance to it. Ah, that decrepit old china doll—the only one the poor child had ever had—I can see it now—one eye, no nose, half an arm. We were all laughing to see it caper to my music.... My father flies in through the door, desperately clasping to his breast the Holy Scroll. We cry out to him to explain, and then we see that in that beloved mouth of song there is no longer a tongue—only blood. He tries to bar the door—a mob breaks in—we dash out through the back into the street. There are the soldiers—and the Face——
[Vera'seyes involuntarily seek the face of her father, who shrinks away as their eyes meet.]
VERA [In a low sob]
O God!
DAVID
When I came to myself, with a curious aching in my left shoulder, I saw lying beside me a strange shapeless Something....
[Davidpoints weirdly to the floor, andVera, hunched forwards, gazes stonily at it, as if seeing the horror.]
By the crimson doll in what seemed a hand I knew it must be little Miriam. The doll was a dream of beauty and perfection beside the mutilated mass which was all that remained of my sister, of my mother, of greedy little Solomon— Oh! You Christians can only see that rosy splendour on the horizon of happiness. And the Jew didn't see rosily enough for you, ha! ha! ha! the Jew who gropes in one great crimson mist.
[He breaks down in spasmodic, ironic, long-drawn, terrible laughter.]
VERA [Trying vainly to tranquillise him]
Hush, David! Your laughter hurts more than tears. Let Vera comfort you.
[She kneels by his chair, tries to put her arms round him.]
DAVID [Shuddering]
Take them away! Don't you feel the cold dead pushing between us?
VERA [Unfaltering, moving his face toward her lips]
Kiss me!
DAVID
I should feel the blood on my lips.
VERA
My love shall wipe it out.
DAVID
Love! Christian love!
[He unwinds her clinging arms; she sinks prostrate on the floor as he rises.]
For this I gave up my people—darkened the home that sheltered me—there was always a still, small voice at my heart calling me back, but I heeded nothing—only the voice of the butcher's daughter.
[Brokenly]
Let me go home, let me go home.
[He looks lingeringly atVera'sprostrate form, but overcoming the instinct to touch and comfort her, begins tottering with uncertain pauses toward the door leading to the hall.]
BARON [Extending his arms in relief and longing]
And here isyourhome, Vera!
[He raises her gradually from the floor; she is dazed, but suddenly she becomes conscious of whose arms she is in, and utters a cry of repulsion.]
VERA
Those arms reeking from that crimson river!
[She falls back.]
BARON [Sullenly]
Don't echo that babble. You came to these arms often enough when they were fresh from the battlefield.
VERA
But not from the shambles! You heard what he called you. Not soldier—butcher! Oh, I dared to dream of happiness after my nightmare of Siberia, but you—you——
[She breaks down for the first time in hysterical sobs.]
BARON [Brokenly]
Vera! Little Vera! Don't cry! You stab me!
VERA
You thought you were ordering your soldiers to fire at the Jews, but it was my heart they pierced.
[She sobs on.]
BARON
... And my own.... But we will comfort each other. I will go to the Tsar myself—with my forehead to the earth—to beg for your pardon!... Come, put your wet face to little father's....
VERA [Violently pushing his face away]
I hate you! I curse the day I was born your daughter!
[She staggers toward the door leading to the interior. At the same momentDavid, who has reached the door leading to the hall, now feeling subconsciouslythatVerais going and that his last reason for lingering on is removed, turns the door-handle. The click attracts theBaron'sattention, he veers round.]
BARON [ToDavid]
Halt!
[Davidturns mechanically.Veradrifts out through her door, leaving the two men face to face. TheBaronbeckons toDavid, who as if hypnotised moves nearer. TheBaronwhips out his pistol, slowly crosses toDavid, who stands as if awaiting his fate. TheBaronhands the pistol toDavid.]
You were right!
[He steps back swiftly with a touch of stern heroism into the attitude of the culprit at a military execution, awaiting the bullet.]
Shoot me!
DAVID [Takes the pistol mechanically, looks long and pensively at it as with a sense of its irrelevance. Gradually his arm droops and lets the pistol fall on the table, and there his hand touches a string of his violin, which yields a little note. Thus reminded of it, he picks up the violin, and as his fingers draw out the broken string he murmurs]
I must get a new string.
[He resumes his dragging march toward the door, repeating maunderingly]
I must get a new string.