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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 sn.i.g.g.e.rs._]
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 gla.s.ses 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 s.h.!.+ 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 pa.s.sages, and raising it vigorously for forte, with every now and then an exclamation._]
_Wunderschon!... pianissimo!_--now the flutes! Clarinets! _Ach, ergotzlich_ ... ba.s.soons 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_]
s.h.!.+ s.h.!.+ _Piano._
