Chapter 3
_April, about a month later. The scene changes to MISS REVENDAL'S sitting-room at the Settlement House on a sunny day. Simple, pretty furniture: a sofa, chairs, small table, etc. An open piano with music. Flowers and books about. Fine art reproductions on walls. The fireplace is on the left. A door on the left leads to the hall, and a door on the right to the interior. A servant enters from the left, ushering in BARON and BARONESS REVENDAL and QUINCY DAVENPORT. The BARON is a tall, stern, grizzled man of military bearing, with a narrow, fanatical forehead and martinet manners, but otherwise of honest and distinguished appearance, with a short, well-trimmed white beard and well-cut European clothes. Although his dignity is diminished by the constant nervous suspiciousness of the Russian official, it is never lost; his nervousness, despite its comic side, being visibly the tragic shadow of his position. His English has only a touch of the foreign in accent and vocabulary and is much superior to his wife's, which comes to her through her French. The BARONESS is pretty and dressed in red in the height of Paris fashion, but blazes with barbaric jewels at neck and throat and wrist. She gestures freely with her hand, which, when ungloved, glitters with heavy rings. She is much younger than the BARON and self-consciously fascinating. Her parasol, which matches her costume, suggests the sunshine without. QUINCY DAVENPORT is in a smart spring suit with a motor dust-coat and cap, which last he lays down on the mantelpiece_.
SERVANT Miss Revendal is on the roof-garden. I'll go and tell her. [_Exit, toward the hall._]
BARON A marvellous people, you Americans. Gardens in the sky!
QUINCY Gardens, forsooth! We plant a tub and call it Paradise. No, Baron. New York is the great stone desert.
BARONESS But ze big beautiful Park vere ve drove tru?
QUINCY No taste, Baroness, modern sculpture and menageries! Think of the Medici gardens at Rome.
BARONESS Ah, Rome! [_With an ecstatic sigh, she drops into an armchair. Then she takes out a dainty cigarette-case, pulls off her right-hand glove, exhibiting her rings, and chooses a cigarette. The BARON, seeing this, produces his match-box._]
QUINCY And now, dear Baron Revendal, having brought you safely to the den of the lioness--if I may venture to call your daughter so--I must leave _you_ to do the taming, eh?
BARON You are always of the most amiable. [_He strikes a match._]
BARONESS _Tout à fait charmant._ [_The BARON lights her cigarette._]
QUINCY [_Bows gallantly_] Don't mention it. I'll just have my auto take me to the Club, and then I'll send it back for you.
BARONESS Ah, zank you--zat street-car looks horreeble. [_She puffs out smoke._]
BARON Quite impossible. What is to prevent an anarchist sitting next to you and shooting out your brains?
QUINCY We haven't much of that here--I don't mean brains. Ha! Ha! Ha!
BARON But I saw desperadoes spying as we came off your yacht.
QUINCY Oh, that was newspaper chaps.
BARON [_Shakes his head_] No--they are circulating my appearance to all the gang in the States. They took snapshots.
QUINCY Then you're quite safe from recognition. [_He sniggers._] Didn't they ask you questions?
BARON Yes, but I am a diplomat. I do not reply.
QUINCY That's not very diplomatic here. Ha! Ha!
BARON _Diable!_ [_He claps his hand to his hip pocket, half-producing a pistol. The BARONESS looks equally anxious._]
QUINCY What's up?
BARON [_Points to window, whispers hoarsely_] Regard! A hooligan peeped in!
QUINCY [_Goes to window_] Only some poor devil come to the Settlement.
BARON [_Hoarsely_] But under his arm--a bomb!
QUINCY [_Shaking his head smilingly_] A soup bowl.
BARONESS Ha! Ha! Ha!
QUINCY What makes you so nervous, Baron? [_The BARON slips back his pistol, a little ashamed._]
BARONESS Ze Intellectuals and ze _Bund_, zey all hate my husband because he is faizful to Christ [_Crossing herself_] and ze Tsar.
QUINCY But the Intellectuals are in Russia.
BARON They have their branches here--the refugees are the leaders--it is a diabolical network.
QUINCY Well, anyhow, _we're_ not in Russia, eh? No, no, Baron, you're quite safe. Still, you can keep my automobile as long as you like--I've plenty.
BARON A thousand thanks. [_Wiping his forehead._] But surely no gentleman would sit in the public car, squeezed between working-men and shop-girls, not to say Jews and Blacks.
QUINCY It _is_ done here. But we shall change all that. Already we have a few taxi-cabs. Give us time, my dear Baron, give us time. You mustn't judge us by your European standard.
BARON By the European standard, Mr. Davenport, you put our hospitality to the shame. From the moment you sent your yacht for us to Odessa----
QUINCY Pray, don't ever speak of that again--you know how anxious I was to get you to New York.
BARON Provided we have arrived in time!
QUINCY That's all right, I keep telling you. They aren't married yet----
BARON [_Grinding his teeth and shaking his fist_] Those Jew-vermin--all my life I have suffered from them!
QUINCY We all suffer from them.
BARONESS Zey are ze pests of ze civilisation.
BARON But this supreme insult Vera shall not put on the blood of the Revendals--not if I have to shoot her down with my own hand--and myself after!
QUINCY No, no, Baron, that's not done here. Besides, if you shoot her down, where do _I_ come in, eh?
BARON [_Puzzled_] Where _you_ come in?
QUINCY Oh, Baron! Surely you have guessed that it is not merely Jew-hate, but--er--Christian love. Eh? [_Laughing uneasily._]
BARON You!
BARONESS [_Clapping her hands_] Oh, _charmant, charmant_! But it ees a romance!
BARON But you are married!
BARONESS [_Downcast_] _Ah, oui._ _Quel dommage_, vat a peety!
QUINCY You forget, Baron, we are in America. The law giveth and the law taketh away. [_He sniggers._]
BARONESS It ees a vonderful country! But your vife--_hein?_--vould she consent?
QUINCY She's mad to get back on the stage--I'll run a theatre for her. It's your daughter's consent that's the real trouble--she won't see me because I lost my temper and told her to stop with her Jew. So I look to you to straighten things out.
BARONESS _Mais parfaitement._
BARON [_Frowning at her_] You go too quick, Katusha. What influence have I on Vera? And _you_ she has never even seen! To kick out the Jew-beast is one thing....
QUINCY Well, anyhow, don't _shoot_ her--shoot the beast rather. [_Sniggeringly._]
BARON Shooting is too good for the enemies of Christ. [_Crossing himself._] At Kishineff we stick the swine.
QUINCY [_Interested_] Ah! I read about that. Did you see the massacre?
BARON Which one? Give me a cigarette, Katusha. [_She obeys._] We've had several Jew-massacres in Kishineff.
QUINCY Have you? The papers only boomed one--four or five years ago--about Easter time, I think----
BARON Ah, yes--when the Jews insulted the procession of the Host! [_Taking a light from the cigarette in his wife's mouth._]
QUINCY Did they? I thought----
BARON [_Sarcastically_] I daresay. That's the lies they spread in the West. They have the Press in their hands, damn 'em. But you see I was on the spot. [_He drops into a chair._] I had charge of the whole district.
QUINCY [_Startled_] You!
BARON Yes, and I hurried a regiment up to teach the blaspheming brutes manners---- [_He puffs out a leisurely cloud._]
QUINCY [_Whistling_] Whew!... I--I say, old chap, I mean Baron, you'd better not say that here.
BARON Why not? I am proud of it.
BARONESS My husband vas decorated for it--he has ze order of St. Vladimir.
BARON [_Proudly_] Second class! Shall we allow these bigots to mock at all we hold sacred? The Jews are the deadliest enemies of our holy autocracy and of the only orthodox Church. Their _Bund_ is behind all the Revolution.
BARONESS A plague-spot muz be cut out!
QUINCY Well, I'd keep it dark if I were you. Kishineff is a back number, and we don't take much stock in the new massacres. Still, we're a bit squeamish----
BARON Squeamish! Don't you lynch and roast your niggers?
QUINCY Not officially. Whereas your Black Hundreds----
BARON Black Hundreds! My dear Mr. Davenport, they are the white hosts of Christ [_Crossing himself_] and of the Tsar, who is God's vicegerent on earth. Have you not read the works of our sainted Pobiedonostzeff, Procurator of the Most Holy Synod?
QUINCY Well, of course, I always felt there was another side to it, but still----
BARONESS Perhaps he has right, Alexis. Our Ambassador vonce told me ze Americans are more sentimental zan civilised.
BARON Ah, let them wait till they have ten million vermin overrunning _their_ country--we shall see how long they will be sentimental. Think of it! A burrowing swarm creeping and crawling everywhere, ugh! They ruin our peasantry with their loans and their drink shops, ruin our army with their revolutionary propaganda, ruin our professional classes by snatching all the prizes and professorships, ruin our commercial classes by monopolising our sugar industries, our oil-fields, our timber-trade.... Why, if we gave them equal rights, our Holy Russia would be entirely run by them.
BARONESS _Mon dieu! C'est vrai._ Ve real Russians vould become slaves.
QUINCY Then what are you going to do with them?
BARON One-third will be baptized, one-third massacred, the other third emigrated here. [_He strikes a match to relight his cigarette._]
QUINCY [_Shudderingly_] Thank you, my dear Baron,--you've already sent me one Jew too many. We're going to stop all alien immigration.
BARON To stop _all_ alien--? But that is barbarous!
QUINCY Well, don't let us waste our time on the Jew-problem ... our own little Jew-problem is enough, eh? Get rid of this little fiddler. Then _I_ may have a look in. Adieu, Baron.
BARON Adieu. [_Holding his hand_] But you are not really serious about Vera? [_The BARONESS makes a gesture of annoyance._]
QUINCY Not serious, Baron? Why, to marry her is the only thing I have ever wanted that I couldn't get. It is torture! Baroness, I rely on your sympathy. [_He kisses her hand with a pretentious foreign air._]
BARONESS [_In sentimental approval_] _Ah! l'amour! l'amour!_ [_Exit QUINCY DAVENPORT, taking his cap in passing._] You might have given him a little encouragement, Alexis.
BARON Silence, Katusha. I only tolerated the man in Europe because he was a link with Vera.
BARONESS You accepted his yacht and his----
BARON If I had known his loose views on divorce----
BARONESS I am sick of your scruples. You are ze only poor official in Bessarabia.
BARON Be silent! Have I not forbidden----?
BARONESS [_Petulantly_] Forbidden! Forbidden! All your life you have served ze Tsar, and you cannot afford a single automobile. A millionaire son-in-law is just vat you owe me.
BARON What I owe you?
BARONESS Yes, ven I married you, I vas tinking you had a good position. I did not know you were too honest to use it. You vere not open viz me, Alexis.
BARON You knew I was a Revendal. The Revendals keep their hands clean.... [_With a sudden start he tiptoes noiselessly to the door leading to the hall and throws it open. Nobody is visible. He closes it shamefacedly._]
BARONESS [_Has shared his nervousness till the door was opened, but now bursts into mocking laughter_] If you thought less about your precious safety, and more about me and Vera----
BARON Hush! You do not know Vera. You saw I was even afraid to give my name. She might have sent me away as she sent away the Tsar's plate of mutton.
BARONESS The Tsar's plate of----?
BARON Did I never tell you? When she was only a school-girl--at the Imperial High School--the Tsar on his annual visit tasted the food, and Vera, as the show pupil, was given the honour of finishing his Majesty's plate.
BARONESS [_In incredulous horror_] And she sent it avay?
BARON Gave it to a servant. [_Awed silence._] And then you think I can impose a husband on her. No, Katusha, I have to win her love for myself, not for millionaires.
BARONESS [_Angry again_] Alvays so affrightfully selfish!
BARON I have no control over her, I tell you! [_Bitterly_] I never could control my womenkind.
BARONESS Because you zink zey are your soldiers. Silence! Halt! Forbidden! Right Veel! March!
BARON [_Sullenly_] I wish I did think they were my soldiers--I might try the lash.
BARONESS [_Springing up angrily, shakes parasol at him_] You British barbarian!
VERA [_Outside the door leading to the interior_] Yes, thank you, Miss Andrews. I know I have visitors.
BARON [_Ecstatically_] Vera's voice! [_The BARONESS lowers her parasol. He looks yearningly toward the door. It opens. Enter VERA with inquiring gaze._]
VERA [_With a great shock of surprise_] Father!!
BARON _Verotschka!_ My dearest darling!... [_He makes a movement toward her, but is checked by her irresponsiveness._] Why, you've grown more beautiful than ever.
VERA You in New York!
BARON The Baroness wished to see America. Katusha, this is my daughter.
BARONESS [_In sugared sweetness_] And mine, too, if she vill let me love her.
VERA [_Bowing coldly, but still addressing her father_] But how? When?
BARON We have just come and----
BARONESS [_Dashing in_] Zat charming young man lent us his yacht--he is adoràhble.
VERA What charming young man?
BARONESS Ah, she has many, ze little coquette--ha! ha! ha! [_She touches VERA playfully with her parasol._]
BARON We wished to give you a pleasant surprise.
VERA It is certainly a surprise.
BARON [_Chilled_] You are not very ... daughterly.
VERA Do you remember when you last saw me? You did not claim me as a daughter then.
BARON [_Covers his eyes with his hand_] Do not recall it; it hurts too much.
VERA I was in the dock.
BARON It was horrible. I hated you for the devil of rebellion that had entered into your soul. But I thanked God when you escaped.
VERA [_Softened_] I think I was more sorry for you than for myself. I hope, at least, no suspicion fell on you.
BARONESS [_Eagerly_] But it did--an avalanche of suspicion. He is still buried under it. Vy else did they make Skovaloff Ambassador instead of him? Even now he risks everyting to see you again. Ah, _mon enfant_, you owe your fazer a grand reparation!
VERA What reparation can I possibly make?
BARON [_Passionately_] You can love me again, Vera.
BARONESS [_Stamping foot_] Alexis, you are interrupting----
VERA I fear, father, we have grown too estranged--our ideas are so opposite----
BARON But not now, Vera, surely not now? You are no longer [_He lowers his voice and looks around_] a Revolutionist?
VERA Not with bombs, perhaps. I thank Heaven I was caught before I had done any _practical_ work. But if you think I accept the order of things, you are mistaken. In Russia I fought against the autocracy----
BARON Hush! Hush! [_He looks round nervously._]
VERA Here I fight against the poverty. No, father, a woman who has once heard the call will always be a wild creature.
BARON But [_Lowering his voice_] those revolutionary Russian clubs here--you are not a member?
VERA I do not believe in Revolutions carried on at a safe distance. I have found my life-work in America.
BARON I am enchanted, Vera, enchanted.
BARONESS [_Gushingly_] Permit me to kiss you, _belle enfant_.
VERA I do not know you enough yet; I will kiss my father.
BARON [_With a great cry of joy_] Vera! [_He embraces her passionately._] At last! At last! I have found my little Vera again!
VERA No, father, _your_ Vera belongs to Russia with her mother and the happy days of childhood. But for their sakes---- [_She breaks down in emotion._]
BARON Ah, your poor mother!
BARONESS [_Tartly_] Alexis, I perceive I am too many! [_She begins to go toward the door._]
BARON No, no, Katusha. Vera will learn to love you, too.
VERA [_To BARONESS_] What does my loving you matter? I can never return to Russia.
BARONESS [_Pausing_] But ve can come here--often--ven you are married.
VERA [_Surprised_] When I am married? [_Softly, blushing_] You know?
BARONESS [_Smiling_] Ve know zat charming young man adores ze floor your foot treads on!
VERA [_Blushing_] You have seen David?
BARON [_Hoarsely_] David! [_He clenches his fist._]
BARONESS [_Half aside, as much gestured as spoken_] Sh! Leave it to me. [_Sweetly._] Oh, no, ve have not seen David.
VERA [_Looking from one to the other_] Not seen--? Then what--whom are you talking about?
BARONESS About zat handsome, quite adoràhble Mr. Davenport.
VERA Davenport!
BARONESS Who combines ze manners of Europe viz ze millions of America!
VERA [_Breaks into girlish laughter_] Ha! Ha! Ha! So Mr. Davenport has been talking to you! But you all seem to forget one small point--bigamy is not permitted even to millionaires.
BARONESS Ah, not boz at vonce, but----
VERA And do you think I would take another woman's leavings? No, not even if she were dead.
BARONESS You are insulting!
VERA I beg your pardon--I wasn't even thinking of you. Father, to put an end at once to this absurd conversation, let me inform you I am already engaged.
BARON [_Trembling, hoarse_] By name, David.
VERA Yes--David Quixano.
BARON A Jew!
VERA How did you know? Yes, he is a Jew, a noble Jew.
BARON A Jew noble! [_He laughs bitterly._]
VERA Yes--even as you esteem nobility--by pedigree. In Spain his ancestors were hidalgos, favourites at the Court of Ferdinand and Isabella; but in the great expulsion of 1492 they preferred exile in Poland to baptism.
BARON And you, a Revendal, would mate with an unbaptized dog?
VERA Dog! You call my husband a dog!
BARON Husband! God in heaven--are you married already?
VERA No! But not being unemployed millionaires like Mr. Davenport, we hold even our troth eternal. [_Calmer_] Our poverty, not your prejudice, stands in the way of our marriage. But David is a musician of genius, and some day----
BARONESS A fiddler in a beer-hall! She prefers a fiddler to a millionaire of ze first families of America!
VERA [_Contemptuously_] First families! I told you David's family came to Poland in 1492--some months before America was discovered.
BARON Christ save us! You have become a Jewess!
VERA No more than David has become a Christian. We were already at one--all honest people are. Surely, father, all religions must serve the same God--since there is only one God to serve.
BARONESS But ze girl is an ateist!
BARON Silence, Katusha! Leave me to deal with my daughter. [_Changing tone to pathos, taking her face between his hands_]
Oh, Vera, _Verotschka_, my dearest darling, I had sooner you had remained buried in Siberia than that---- [_He breaks down._]
VERA [_Touched, sitting beside him_] For you, father, I _was_ as though buried in Siberia. Why did you come here to stab yourself afresh?
BARON I wish to God I had come here earlier. I wish I had not been so nervous of Russian spies. Ah, _Verotschka_, if you only knew how I have pored over the newspaper pictures of you, and the reports of your life in this Settlement!
VERA You asked me not to send letters.
BARON I know, I know--and yet sometimes I felt as if I could risk Siberia myself to read your dear, dainty handwriting again.
VERA [_Still more softened_] Father, if you love me so much, surely you will love David a little too--for my sake.
BARON [_Dazed_] I--love--a Jew? Impossible. [_He shudders._]
VERA [_Moving away, icily_] Then so is any love from me to you. You have chosen to come back into my life, and after our years of pain and separation I would gladly remember only my old childish affection. But not if you hate David. You must make your choice.
BARON [_Pitifully_] Choice? I have no choice. Can I carry mountains? No more can I love a Jew. [_He rises resolutely._]
BARONESS [_Who has turned away, fretting and fuming, turns back to her husband, clapping her hands_] Bravo!
VERA [_Going to him again, coaxingly_] I don't ask you to carry mountains, but to drop the mountains you carry--the mountains of prejudice. Wait till you see him.
BARON I will not see him.
VERA Then you will hear him--he is going to make music for all the world. You can't escape him, _papasha_, you with your love of music, any more than you escaped Rubinstein.
BARONESS Rubinstein vas not a Jew.
VERA Rubinstein was a Jewish boy-genius, just like my David.
BARONESS But his parents vere baptized soon after his birth. I had it from his patroness, ze Grande Duchesse Helena Pavlovna.
VERA And did the water outside change the blood within? Rubinstein was our Court pianist and was decorated by the Tsar. And you, the Tsar's servant, dare to say you could not meet a Rubinstein.
BARON [_Wavering_] I did not say I could not meet a _Rubinstein_.
VERA You practically said so. David will be even greater than Rubinstein. Come, father, I'll telephone for him; he is only round the corner.
BARONESS [_Excitedly_] Ve vill not see him!
VERA [_Ignoring her_] He shall bring his violin and play to you. There! You see, little father, you are already less frowning--now take that last wrinkle out of your forehead. [_She caresses his forehead._] Never mind! David will smooth it out with his music as his Biblical ancestor smoothed that surly old Saul.
BARONESS Ve vill not hear him!
BARON Silence, Katusha! Oh, my little Vera, I little thought when I let you study music at Petersburg----
VERA [_Smiling wheedlingly_] That I should marry a musician. But you see, little father, it all ends in music after all. Now I will go and perform on the telephone, I'm not angel enough to bear one in here. [_She goes toward the door of the hall, smiling happily._]
BARON [_With a last agonized cry of resistance_] Halt!
VERA [_Turning, makes mock military salute_] Yes, _papasha_.
BARON [_Overcome by her roguish smile_] You--I--he--do you love this J--this David so much?
VERA [_Suddenly tragic_] It would kill me to give him up. [_Resuming smile_] But don't let us talk of funerals on this happy day of sunshine and reunion. [_She kisses her hand to him and exit toward the hall._]
BARONESS [_Angrily_] You are in her hands as vax!
BARON She is the only child I have ever had, Katusha. Her baby arms curled round my neck; in her baby sorrows her wet face nestled against little father's. [_He drops on a chair, and leans his head on the table._]
BARONESS [_Approaching tauntingly_] So you vill have a Jew son-in-law!
BARON You don't know what it meant to me to feel her arms round me again.
BARONESS And a hook-nosed brat to call you grandpapa, and nestle his greasy face against yours.
BARON [_Banging his fist on the table_] Don't drive me mad! [_His head drops again._]
BARONESS Then drive me home--I vill not meet him.... Alexis! [_She taps him on the shoulder with her parasol. He does not move._] Alexis Ivanovitch! Do you not listen!... [_She stamps her foot._] Zen I go to ze hotel alone. [_She walks angrily toward the hall. Just before she reaches the door, it opens, and the servant ushers in HERR PAPPELMEISTER with his umbrella. The BARONESS'S tone changes instantly to a sugared society accent._] How do you do, Herr Pappelmeister? [_She extends her hand, which he takes limply._] You don't remember me? _Non?_ [_Exit servant._] Ve vere with Mr. Quincy Davenport at Wiesbaden---ze Baroness Revendal.
PAPPELMEISTER _So!_ [_He drops her hand._]
BARONESS Yes, it vas ze Baron's entousiasm for you zat got you your present position.
PAPPELMEISTER [_Arching his eyebrows_] _So!_
BARONESS Yes--zere he is! [_She turns toward the BARON._] Alexis, rouse yourself! [_She taps him with her parasol._] Zis American air makes ze Baron so sleepy.
BARON [_Rises dazedly and bows_] Charmed to meet you, Herr----
BARONESS Pappelmeister! You remember ze great Pappelmeister.
BARON [_Waking up, becomes keen_] Ah, yes, yes, charmed--why do you never bring your orchestra to Russia, Herr Pappelmeister?
PAPPELMEISTER [_Surprised_] Russia? It never occurred to me to go to Russia--she seems so uncivilised.
BARONESS [_Angry_] Uncivilised! Vy, ve have ze finest restaurants in ze vorld! And ze best telephones!
PAPPELMEISTER _So?_
BARONESS Yes, and the most beautiful ballets--Russia is affrightfully misunderstood. [_She sweeps away in burning indignation. PAPPELMEISTER murmurs in deprecation. Re-enter VERA from the hall. She is gay and happy._]
VERA He is coming round at once---- [_She utters a cry of pleased surprise._] Herr Pappelmeister! This is indeed a pleasure! [_She gives PAPPELMEISTER her hand, which he kisses._]
BARONESS [_Sotto voce to the BARON_] Let us go before he comes. [_The BARON ignores her, his eyes hungrily on VERA._]
PAPPELMEISTER [_To VERA_] But I come again--you have visitors.
VERA [_Smiling_] Only my father and----
PAPPELMEISTER [_Surprised_] Your fader? _Ach so!_ [_He taps his forehead._] Revendal!
BARONESS [_Sotto voce to the BARON_] I vill not meet a Jew, I tell you.
PAPPELMEISTER But you vill vant to talk to your fader, and all _I_ vant is Mr. Quixano's address. De Irish maiden at de house says de bird is flown.
VERA [_Gravely_] I don't know if I ought to tell you where the new nest is----
PAPPELMEISTER [_Disappointed_] _Ach!_
VERA [_Smiling_] But I will produce the bird.
PAPPELMEISTER [_Looks round_] You vill broduce Mr. Quixano?
VERA [_Merrily_] By clapping my hands. [_Mysteriously_] I am a magician.
BARON [_Whose eyes have been glued on VERA_] You are, indeed! I don't know how you have bewitched me. [_The BARONESS glares at him._]
VERA Dear little father! [_She crosses to him and strokes his hair._] Herr Pappelmeister, tell father about Mr. Quixano's music.
PAPPELMEISTER [_Shaking his head_] Music cannot be talked about.
VERA [_Smiling_] That's a nasty one for the critics. But tell father what a genius Da--Mr. Quixano is.
BARONESS [_Desperately intervening_] Good-bye, Vera. [_She thrusts out her hand, which VERA takes._] I have a headache. You muz excuse me. Herr Pappelmeister, _au plaisir de vous revoir_. [_PAPPELMEISTER hastens to the door, which he holds open. The BARONESS turns and glares at the BARON._]
BARON [_Agitated_] Let me see you to the auto----
BARONESS You could see me to ze hotel almost as quick.
BARON [_To VERA_] I won't say good-bye, _Verotschka_--I shall be back. [_He goes toward the hall, then turns._] You will keep your Rubinstein waiting? [_VERA smiles lovingly._]
BARONESS You are keeping _me_ vaiting. [_He turns quickly. Exeunt BARON and BARONESS._]
PAPPELMEISTER And now broduce Mr. Quixano!
VERA Not so fast. What are you going to do with him?
PAPPELMEISTER Put him in my orchestra!
VERA [_Ecstatic_] Oh, you dear! [_Then her tone changes to disappointment._] But he won't go into Mr. Davenport's orchestra.
PAPPELMEISTER It is no more Mr. Davenport's orchestra. He fired me, don't you remember? Now I boss--how say you in American?
VERA [_Smiling_] Your own show.
PAPPELMEISTER _Ja_, my own band. Ven I left dat comic opera millionaire, dey all shtick to me almost to von man.
VERA How nice of them!
PAPPELMEISTER All egsept de Christian--he vas de von man. He shtick to de millionaire. So I lose my brincipal first violin.
VERA And Mr. Quixano is to--oh, how delightful! [_She claps her hands girlishly._]
PAPPELMEISTER [_Looks round mischievously_] _Ach_, de magic failed.
VERA [_Puzzled_] Eh!
PAPPELMEISTER You do not broduce him. You clap de hands--but you do not broduce him. Ha! Ha! Ha! [_He breaks into a great roar of genial laughter._]
VERA [_Chiming in merrily_] Ha! Ha! Ha! But I said I have to know everything first. Will he get a good salary?
PAPPELMEISTER Enough to keep a vife and eight children!
VERA [_Blushing_] But he hasn't a----
PAPPELMEISTER No, but de Christian had--he get de same--I mean salary, ha! ha! ha! not children. Den he can be independent--vedder de fool-public like his American symphony or not--_nicht wahr?_
VERA You _are_ good to us---- [_Hastily correcting herself_] to Mr. Quixano.
PAPPELMEISTER [_Smiling_] And aldough you cannot broduce him, I broduce his symphony. _Was?_
VERA Oh, Herr Pappelmeister! You are an angel.
PAPPELMEISTER _Nein, nein, mein liebes Kind!_ I fear I haf not de correct shape for an angel. [_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_] Wind and weather permitting.
PAPPELMEISTER I haf alvays mein umbrella. _Was?_ Ha! Ha! Ha!
VERA [_Murmuring_] Isn't he a darling? Isn't he----?
PAPPELMEISTER [_Pausing suddenly_] But ve never settled de salary.
DAVID Salary! [_He looks dazedly from one to the other._] For the honour of playing in your orchestra!
PAPPELMEISTER Shylock!!... Never mind--ve settle de pound of flesh to-morrow. _Lebe wohl!_ [_Exit, the door closes._]
VERA [_Suddenly miserable_] How selfish of you, David!
DAVID Selfish, Vera?
VERA Yes--not to think of your salary. It looks as if you didn't really love me.
DAVID Not love you? I don't understand.
VERA [_Half in tears_] Just when I was so happy to think that now we shall be able to marry.
DAVID Shall we? Marry? On my salary as first violin?
VERA Not if you don't want to.
DAVID Sweetheart! Can it be true? How do you know?
VERA [_Smiling_] _I'm_ not a Jew. I asked.
DAVID My guardian angel! [_Embracing her. He sits down, she lovingly at his feet._]
VERA [_Looking up at him_] Then you _do_ care?
DAVID What a question!
VERA And you don't think wholly of your music and forget me?
DAVID Why, you are behind all I write and play!
VERA [_With jealous passion_] Behind? But I want to be before! I want you to love me first, before everything.
DAVID I do put you before everything.
VERA You are sure? And nothing shall part us?
DAVID Not all the seven seas could part you and me.
VERA And you won't grow tired of me--not even when you are world-famous----?
DAVID [_A shade petulant_] Sweetheart, considering I should owe it all to you----
VERA [_Drawing his head down to her breast_] Oh, David! David! Don't be angry with poor little Vera if she doubts, if she wants to feel quite sure. You see father has talked so terribly, and after all I was brought up in the Greek Church, and we oughtn't to cause all this suffering unless----
DAVID Those who love us _must_ suffer, and _we_ must suffer in their suffering. It is live things, not dead metals, that are being melted in the Crucible.
VERA Still, we ought to soften the suffering as much as----
DAVID Yes, but only Time can heal it.
VERA [_With transition to happiness_] But father seems half-reconciled already! Dear little father, if only he were not so narrow about Holy Russia!
DAVID If only _my_ folks were not so narrow about Holy Judea! But the ideals of the fathers shall not be foisted on the children. Each generation must live and die for its own dream.
VERA Yes, David, yes. You are the prophet of the living present. I am so happy. [_She looks up wistfully._] You are happy, too?
DAVID I am dazed--I cannot realise that all our troubles have melted away--it is so sudden.
VERA You, David? Who always see everything in such rosy colours? Now that the whole horizon is one great splendid rose, you almost seem as if gazing out toward a blackness----
DAVID We Jews are cheerful in gloom, mistrustful in joy. It is our tragic history----
VERA But you have come to end the tragic history; to throw off the coils of the centuries.
DAVID [_Smiling again_] Yes, yes, Vera. You bring back my sunnier self. I must be a pioneer on the lost road of happiness. To-day shall be all joy, all lyric ecstasy. [_He takes up his violin._] Yes, I will make my old fiddle-strings _burst_ with joy! [_He dashes into a jubilant tarantella. After a few bars there is a knock at the door leading from the hall; their happy faces betray no sign of hearing it; then the door slightly opens, and BARON REVENDAL'S head looks hesitatingly in. As DAVID perceives it, his features work convulsively, his string breaks with a tragic snap, and he totters backward into VERA'S arms. Hoarsely_] The face! The face!
VERA David--my dearest!
DAVID [_His eyes closed, his violin clasped mechanically_] Don't be anxious--I shall be better soon--I oughtn't to have talked about it--the hallucination has never been so complete.
VERA Don't speak--rest against Vera's heart--till it has passed away. [_The BARON comes dazedly forward, half with a shocked sense of VERA'S impropriety, half to relieve her of her burden. She motions him back._] This is the work of your Holy Russia.
BARON [_Harshly_] What is the matter with him? [_DAVID'S violin and bow drop from his grasp and fall on the table._]
DAVID The voice! [_He opens his eyes, stares frenziedly at the BARON, then struggles out of VERA'S arms._]
VERA [_Trying to stop him_] Dearest----
DAVID Let me go. [_He moves like a sleep-walker toward the paralysed BARON, puts out his hand, and testingly touches the face._]
BARON [_Shuddering back_] Hands off!
DAVID [_With a great cry_] A-a-a-h! It is flesh and blood. No, it is stone--the man of stone! Monster! [_He raises his hand frenziedly._]
BARON [_Whipping out his pistol_] Back, dog! [_VERA darts between them with a shriek._]
DAVID [_Frozen again, surveying the pistol stonily_] Ha! You want _my_ life, too. Is the cry not yet loud enough?
BARON The cry?
DAVID [_Mystically_] Can you not hear it? The voice of the blood of my brothers crying out against you from the ground? Oh, how can you bear not to turn that pistol against yourself and execute upon yourself the justice which Russia denies you?
BARON Tush! [_Pocketing the pistol a little shamefacedly._]
VERA Justice on himself? For what?
DAVID For crimes beyond human penalty, for obscenities beyond human utterance, for----
VERA You are raving.
DAVID Would to heaven I were!
VERA But this is my father.
DAVID Your father!... God! [_He staggers._]
BARON [_Drawing her to him_] Come, Vera, I told you----
VERA [_Frantically, shrinking back_] Don't touch me!
BARON [_Starting back in amaze_] Vera!
VERA [_Hoarsely_] Say it's not true.
BARON What is not true?
VERA What David said. It was the mob that massacred--_you_ had no hand in it.
BARON [_Sullenly_] I was there with my soldiers.
DAVID [_Leaning, pale, against a chair, hisses_] And you looked on with that cold face of hate--while my mother--my sister----
BARON [_Sullenly_] I could not see everything.
DAVID Now and again you ordered your soldiers to fire----
VERA [_In joyous relief_] Ah, he _did_ check the mob--he _did_ tell his soldiers to fire.
DAVID At any Jew who tried to defend himself.
VERA Great God! [_She falls on the sofa and buries her head on the cushion, moaning_] Is there no pity in heaven?
DAVID There was no pity on earth.
BARON It was the People avenging itself, Vera. The People rose like a flood. It had centuries of spoliation to wipe out. The voice of the People is the voice of God.
VERA [_Moaning_] But you could have stopped them.
BARON I had no orders to defend the foes of Christ and [_Crossing himself_] the Tsar. The People----
VERA But you could have stopped them.
BARON Who can stop a flood? I did my duty. A soldier's duty is not so pretty as a musician's.
VERA But you could have stopped them.
BARON [_Losing all patience_] Silence! You talk like an ignorant girl, blinded by passion. The _pogrom_ is a holy crusade. Are we Russians the first people to crush down the Jew? No--from the dawn of history the nations have had to stamp upon him--the Egyptians, the Assyrians, the Persians, the Babylonians, the Greeks, the Romans----
DAVID Yes, it is true. Even Christianity did not invent hatred. But not till Holy Church arose were we burnt at the stake, and not till Holy Russia arose were our babes torn limb from limb. Oh, it is too much! Delivered from Egypt four thousand years ago, to be slaves to the Russian Pharaoh to-day. [_He falls as if kneeling on a chair, and, leans his head on the rail._] O God, shall we always be broken on the wheel of history? How long, O Lord, how long?
BARON [_Savagely_] Till you are all stamped out, ground into your dirt. [_Tenderly_] Look up, little Vera! You saw how _papasha_ loves you--how he was ready to hold out his hand--and how this cur tried to bite it. Be calm--tell him a daughter of Russia cannot mate with dirt.
VERA Father, I will be calm. I will speak without passion or blindness. I will tell David the truth. I was never absolutely sure of my love for him--perhaps that was why I doubted his love for me--often after our enchanted moments there would come a nameless uneasiness, some vague instinct, relic of the long centuries of Jew-loathing, some strange shrinking from his Christless creed----
BARON [_With an exultant cry_] Ah! She is a Revendal.
VERA But now---- [_She rises and walks firmly toward DAVID_] now, David, I come to you, and I say in the words of Ruth, thy people shall be my people and thy God my God! [_She stretches out her hands to DAVID._]
BARON You shameless----! [_He stops as he perceives DAVID remains impassive._]
VERA [_With agonised cry_] David!
DAVID [_In low, icy tones_] You cannot come to me. There is a river of blood between us.
VERA Were it seven seas, our love must cross them.
DAVID Easy words to you. You never saw that red flood bearing the mangled breasts of women and the spattered brains of babes and sucklings. Oh! [_He covers his eyes with his hands. The BARON turns away in gloomy impotence. At last DAVID begins to speak quietly, almost dreamily._] It was your Easter, and the air was full of holy bells and the streets of holy processions--priests in black and girls in white and waving palms and crucifixes, and everybody exchanging Easter eggs and kissing one another three times on the mouth in token of peace and goodwill, and even the Jew-boy felt the spirit of love brooding over the earth, though he did not then know that this Christ, whom holy chants proclaimed re-risen, was born in the form of a brother Jew. And what added to the peace and holy joy was that our own Passover was shining before us. My mother had already made the raisin wine, and my greedy little brother Solomon had sipped it on the sly that very morning. We were all at home--all except my father--he was away in the little Synagogue at which he was cantor. Ah, such a voice he had--a voice of tears and thunder--when he prayed it was like a wounded soul beating at the gates of Heaven--but he sang even more beautifully in the ritual of home, and how we were looking forward to his hymns at the Passover table---- [_He breaks down. The BARON has gradually turned round under the spell of DAVID'S story and now listens hypnotised._] I was playing my cracked little fiddle. Little Miriam was making her doll dance to it. Ah, that decrepit old china doll--the only one the poor child had ever had--I can see it now--one eye, no nose, half an arm. We were all laughing to see it caper to my music.... My father flies in through the door, desperately clasping to his breast the Holy Scroll. We cry out to him to explain, and then we see that in that beloved mouth of song there is no longer a tongue--only blood. He tries to bar the door--a mob breaks in--we dash out through the back into the street. There are the soldiers--and the Face---- [_VERA'S eyes involuntarily seek the face of her father, who shrinks away as their eyes meet._]
VERA [_In a low sob_] O God!
DAVID When I came to myself, with a curious aching in my left shoulder, I saw lying beside me a strange shapeless Something.... [_DAVID points weirdly to the floor, and VERA, hunched forwards, gazes stonily at it, as if seeing the horror._] By the crimson doll in what seemed a hand I knew it must be little Miriam. The doll was a dream of beauty and perfection beside the mutilated mass which was all that remained of my sister, of my mother, of greedy little Solomon-- Oh! You Christians can only see that rosy splendour on the horizon of happiness. And the Jew didn't see rosily enough for you, ha! ha! ha! the Jew who gropes in one great crimson mist. [_He breaks down in spasmodic, ironic, long-drawn, terrible laughter._]
VERA [_Trying vainly to tranquillise him_] Hush, David! Your laughter hurts more than tears. Let Vera comfort you. [_She kneels by his chair, tries to put her arms round him._]
DAVID [_Shuddering_] Take them away! Don't you feel the cold dead pushing between us?
VERA [_Unfaltering, moving his face toward her lips_] Kiss me!
DAVID I should feel the blood on my lips.
VERA My love shall wipe it out.
DAVID Love! Christian love! [_He unwinds her clinging arms; she sinks prostrate on the floor as he rises._] For this I gave up my people--darkened the home that sheltered me--there was always a still, small voice at my heart calling me back, but I heeded nothing--only the voice of the butcher's daughter. [_Brokenly_] Let me go home, let me go home. [_He looks lingeringly at VERA'S prostrate form, but overcoming the instinct to touch and comfort her, begins tottering with uncertain pauses toward the door leading to the hall._]
BARON [_Extending his arms in relief and longing_] And here is _your_ home, Vera! [_He raises her gradually from the floor; she is dazed, but suddenly she becomes conscious of whose arms she is in, and utters a cry of repulsion._]
VERA Those arms reeking from that crimson river! [_She falls back._]
BARON [_Sullenly_] Don't echo that babble. You came to these arms often enough when they were fresh from the battlefield.
VERA But not from the shambles! You heard what he called you. Not soldier--butcher! Oh, I dared to dream of happiness after my nightmare of Siberia, but you--you---- [_She breaks down for the first time in hysterical sobs._]
BARON [_Brokenly_] Vera! Little Vera! Don't cry! You stab me!
VERA You thought you were ordering your soldiers to fire at the Jews, but it was my heart they pierced. [_She sobs on._]
BARON ... And my own.... But we will comfort each other. I will go to the Tsar myself--with my forehead to the earth--to beg for your pardon!... Come, put your wet face to little father's....
VERA [_Violently pushing his face away_] I hate you! I curse the day I was born your daughter! [_She staggers toward the door leading to the interior. At the same moment DAVID, who has reached the door leading to the hall, now feeling subconsciously that VERA is going and that his last reason for lingering on is removed, turns the door-handle. The click attracts the BARON'S attention, he veers round._]
BARON [_To DAVID_] Halt! [_DAVID turns mechanically. VERA drifts out through her door, leaving the two men face to face. The BARON beckons to DAVID, who as if hypnotised moves nearer. The BARON whips out his pistol, slowly crosses to DAVID, who stands as if awaiting his fate. The BARON hands the pistol to DAVID._] You were right! [_He steps back swiftly with a touch of stern heroism into the attitude of the culprit at a military execution, awaiting the bullet._] Shoot me!
DAVID [_Takes the pistol mechanically, looks long and pensively at it as with a sense of its irrelevance. Gradually his arm droops and lets the pistol fall on the table, and there his hand touches a string of his violin, which yields a little note. Thus reminded of it, he picks up the violin, and as his fingers draw out the broken string he murmurs_] I must get a new string. [_He resumes his dragging march toward the door, repeating maunderingly_] I must get a new string. [_The curtain falls._]