Sh! Sh! Piano.
QUINCY [Outraged]
Sh to me!
[Rises.]
VERA
He doesn't know it's you.
QUINCY
But look here, Poppy--
[He seizes the wildly-moving umbrella. Blank stare of
PAPPELMEISTER gradually 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, that is good 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, PAPPELMEISTER is re-absorbed in
the MS., but no longer conducting.]
QUINCY
You see, I'll help even a Jew for your sake.
VERA
Hush!
[Indicating PAPPELMEISTER.]
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?
[He comes nearer.]
VERA [Crossing to PAPPELMEISTER]
Herr Pappelmeister! When do you think you can produce it?
PAPPELMEISTER
Wunderbar!...
[Becoming half-conscious of VERA] Four lumps....
[Waking up] Bitte?
VERA
How soon can you produce it?
PAPPELMEISTER
How soon can he finish it?
VERA
Isn't it finished?
PAPPELMEISTER
I see von Finale scratched out and anoder not quite completed. But anyhow, ve couldn't broduce it before Saturday fortnight.
QUINCY
Saturday fortnight! Not time to get my crowd.
PAPPELMEISTER
Den ve say Saturday dree veeks. Yes?
QUINCY
Yes. Stop a minute! Did you say Saturday? That's my comic opera night! You thief!
PAPPELMEISTER
Somedings must be sagrificed.
MENDEL [Outside]
But you must come, David.
[The kitchen door opens, and MENDEL drags in the boyishly
shrinking DAVID. PAPPELMEISTER thumps with his umbrella, VERA
claps her hands, QUINCY DAVENPORT produces his eyeglass and
surveys DAVID curiously.]
VERA
Oh, Mr. Quixano, I am so glad! Mr. Davenport is going to produce your symphony in his wonderful music-room.
QUINCY
Yes, young man, I'm going to give you the smartest audience in America. And if Poppy is right, you're just going to rake in the dollars. America wants a composer.
PAPPELMEISTER [Raises hands emphatically.]
Ach Gott, ja!
VERA [To DAVID]
Why don't you speak? You're not angry with me for interfering--?
DAVID
I can never be grateful enough to you--
VERA
Oh, not to me. It is to Mr. Davenport you--
DAVID
And I can never be grateful enough to Herr Pappelmeister. It is an honour even to meet him.
[Bows.]
PAPPELMEISTER [Choking with emotion, goes and pats him on the back.]
Mein braver Junge!
VERA [Anxiously]
But it is Mr. Davenport--
DAVID
Before I accept Mr. Davenport's kindness, I must know to whom I am indebted-and if Mr. Davenport is the man who--
QUINCY
Who travelled with you to New York? Ha! Ha! Ha! No, I'm only the junior.
DAVID
Oh, I know, sir, you don't make the money you spend.
QUINCY
Eh?
VERA [Anxiously]
He means he knows you're not in business.
DAVID
Yes, sir; but is it true you are in pleasure?
QUINCY [Puzzled]
I beg your pardon?
DAVID
Are all the stories the papers print about you true?
QUINCY
All the stories. That's a tall order. Ha! Ha! Ha!
DAVID
Well, anyhow, is it true that--?
VERA
Mr. Quixano! What are you driving at?
QUINCY
Oh, it's rather fun to hear what the masses read about me. Fire ahead. Is what true?
DAVID
That you were married in a balloon?
QUINCY
Ho! Ha! Ha! That's true enough. Marriage in high life, they said, didn't they? Ha! Ha! Ha!
DAVID
And is it true you live in America only two months in the year, and then only to entertain Europeans who wander to these wild parts?
QUINCY
Lucky for you, young man. You'll have an Italian prince and a British duke to hear your scribblings.
DAVID
And the palace where they will hear my scribblings-is it true that--?
VERA [Who has been on pins and needles]
Mr. Quixano, what possible--?
DAVID [Entreatingly holds up a hand.]
Miss Revendal!
[To QUINCY DAVENPORT] Is this palace the same whose grounds were turned into Venetian canals where the guests ate in gondolas-gondolas that were draped with the most wonderful trailing silks in imitation of the Venetian nobility in the great water fêtes?
QUINCY [Turns to VERA]
Ah, Miss Revendal-what a pity you refused that invitation! It was a fairy scene of twinkling lights and delicious darkness-each couple had their own gondola to sup in, and their own side-canal to slip down. Eh? Ha! Ha! Ha!
DAVID
And the same night, women and children died of hunger in New York!
QUINCY [Startled, drops eyeglass.]
Eh?
DAVID [Furiously]
And this is the sort of people you would invite to hear my symphony-these gondola-guzzlers!