Выбрать главу

[He laughs heartily. A knock at the door from the hall. ]

VERA [Merrily]

Now I 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 at

PAPPELMEISTER.]

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 to DAVID, 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?

[DAVID looks surprised.] I heard you.

DAVID

You! What on earth did you go there for?

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 slaps DAVID on 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

I must explain 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!

[DAVID takes out his violin from its case and puts it to his

shoulder, PAPPELMEISTER keeping 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]

A Bas-Kôl! A Bas-Kôl!

VERA

What are you 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]

Another Bas-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 to DAVID] You come to Carnegie to-morrow at eleven. Yes? Fräulein.

[Kisses her hand.] Auf Wiedersehen!

[Going] On de Roof-Garden-nicht wahr?

VERA [Smiling]