[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]