_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._]