No, he wasn't a priest. But he took sick and died and the children left her-went to America or heaven or other far-off places-and she was left all penniless and alone.
KATHLEEN
Poor ould lady.
DAVID
Not so old yet, for she was married at fifteen.
KATHLEEN
Poor young crathur!
DAVID
But she was still the good angel of the congregation-sat up with the sick and watched over the dead.
KATHLEEN
Saints alive! And not scared?
DAVID
No, nothing scared her-except me. I got a broken-down fiddle and used to play it even on Shabbos-I was very naughty. But she was so lovely to me. I still remember the heavenly taste of a piece of Motso she gave me dipped in raisin wine! Passover cake, you know.
KATHLEEN [Proudly]
Oh, I know Motso.
DAVID [Smacks his lips, repeats]
Heavenly!
KATHLEEN
Sure, I must tashte it.
DAVID [Shaking his head, mysteriously]
Only little boys get that tashte.
KATHLEEN
That's quare.
DAVID [Smiling]
Very quare. And then one day my uncle sent the old lady a ticket to come to America. But it is not so happy for her here because you see my uncle has to be near his theatre and can't live in the Jewish quarter, and so nobody understands her, and she sits all the livelong day alone-alone with her book and her religion and her memories--
KATHLEEN [Breaking down]
Oh, Mr. David!
DAVID
And now all this long, cold, snowy evening she'll sit by the fire alone, thinking of her dead, and the fire will sink lower and lower, and she won't be able to touch it, because it's the holy Sabbath, and there'll be no kind Kathleen to brighten up the grey ashes, and then at last, sad and shivering, she'll creep up to her room without a candlestick, and there in the dark and the cold--
KATHLEEN [Hysterically bursting into tears, dropping her parcel, and
untying her bonnet-strings] Oh, Mr. David, I won't mix the crockery, I won't--
DAVID [Heartily]
Of course you won't. Good night.
[He slips out hurriedly through the street-door as KATHLEEN
throws off her bonnet, and the curtain falls quickly. As it rises
again, she is seen strenuously poking the fire, illumined by its
red glow.]
Act II
The same scene on an afternoon a month later. DAVID is
discovered at his desk, scribbling music in a fever of
enthusiasm. MENDEL, dressed in his best, is playing softly on the
piano, watching DAVID. After an instant or two of indecision, he
puts down the piano-lid with a bang and rises decisively.
MENDEL
David!
DAVID [Putting up his left hand]
Please, please--
[He writes feverishly.]
MENDEL
But I want to talk to you seriously-at once.
DAVID
I'm just re-writing the Finale. Oh, such a splendid inspiration!
[He writes on.]
MENDEL [Shrugs his shoulders and reseats himself at piano. He plays a
bar or two. Looks at watch impatiently. Resolutely] David, I've got wonderful news for you. Miss Revendal is bringing somebody to see you, and we have hopes of getting you sent to Germany to study composition.
[DAVID does not reply, but writes rapidly on.] Why, he hasn't heard a word!
[He shouts.] David!
DAVID [Writing on]
I can't, uncle. I must put it down while that glorious impression is fresh.
MENDEL
What impression? You only went to the People's Alliance.
DAVID
Yes, and there I saw the Jewish children-a thousand of 'em-saluting the Flag.
[He writes on.]
MENDEL
Well, what of that?
DAVID
What of that?
[He throws down his quill and jumps up.] But just fancy it, uncle. The Stars and Stripes unfurled, and a thousand childish voices, piping and foreign, fresh from the lands of oppression, hailing its fluttering folds. I cried like a baby.
MENDEL
I'm afraid you are one.
DAVID
Ah, but if you had heard them-"Flag of our Great Republic"-the words have gone singing at my heart ever since-
[He turns to the flag over the door.] "Flag of our Great Republic, guardian of our homes, whose stars and stripes stand for Bravery, Purity, Truth, and Union, we salute thee. We, the natives of distant lands, who find
[Half-sobbing] rest under thy folds, do pledge our hearts, our lives, our sacred honour to love and protect thee, our Country, and the liberty of the American people for ever."
[He ends almost hysterically.]
MENDEL [Soothingly]
Quite right. But you needn't get so excited over it.
DAVID
Not when one hears the roaring of the fires of God? Not when one sees the souls melting in the Crucible? Uncle, all those little Jews will grow up Americans!
MENDEL [Putting a pacifying hand on his shoulder and forcing him into a
chair] Sit down. I want to talk to you about your affairs.
DAVID [Sitting]
My affairs! But I've been talking about them all the time!
MENDEL
Nonsense, David.
[He sits beside him.] Don't you think it's time you got into a wider world?
DAVID
Eh? This planet's wide enough for me.
MENDEL
Do be serious. You don't want to live all your life in this room.
DAVID [Looks round]
What's the matter with this room? It's princely.
MENDEL [Raising his hands in horror]
Princely!
DAVID
Imperial. Remember when I first saw it-after pigging a week in the rocking steerage, swinging in a berth as wide as my fiddle-case, hung near the cooking-engines; imagine the hot rancid smell of the food, the oil of the machinery, the odours of all that close-packed, sea-sick--
MENDEL [Putting his hand over DAVID'S mouth]
Don't! You make me ill! How could you ever bear it?
DAVID [Smiling]
I was quite happy-I only had to fancy I'd been shipwrecked, and that after clinging to a plank five days without food or water on the great lonely Atlantic, my frozen, sodden form had been picked up by this great safe steamer and given this delightful dry berth, regular meals, and the spectacle of all these friendly faces.... Do you know who was on board that boat? Quincy Davenport.
MENDEL
The lord of corn and oil?
DAVID [Smiling]
Yes, even we wretches in the steerage felt safe to think the lord was up above, we believed the company would never dare drown him. But could even Quincy Davenport command a cabin like this?
[Waving his arm round the room.] Why, uncle, we have a cabin worth a thousand dollars-a thousand dollars a week-and what's more, it doesn't wobble!