VERA
Yes, my father once hoped my music 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, for KATHLEEN
after 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
What do you mean?
KATHLEEN
It's our Carnival to-day! Purim.
[She carries her nose carefully and piously toward the
kitchen.]
VERA
Oh! I see.
[Exit KATHLEEN.]
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
Not my musicians. No Jew's harp in my orchestra, eh?
[He sniggers.] I wouldn't have a Jew if he paid me.
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! Perhaps you're a 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'S chuckle is heard gurgling in his cup. Re-enter
MENDEL from kitchen.]
MENDEL [To VERA]
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 him I was 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.
[MENDEL goes to the desk, opens it, and gets the MS. and offers
it to QUINCY DAVENPORT.]
QUINCY
Not for me-Poppy!
[MENDEL offers it to PAPPELMEISTER, who takes it solemnly. ]
MENDEL [Anxiously to PAPPELMEISTER]
Of course you must remember his youth and his lack of musical education--
PAPPELMEISTER
Bitte, das Pult!
[MENDEL moves DAVID'S music-stand from the corner to the centre
of the room. PAPPELMEISTER puts MS. on it.] So!
[All eyes centre on him eagerly, MENDEL standing uneasily, the
others sitting. PAPPELMEISTER polishes 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]
Und de harp solo ... ach, reizend! ... Second violins--!
QUINCY
But Poppy! We can't be here all day.
PAPPELMEISTER [Not listening, continuing pantomime action]