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 pa.s.sengers 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 d.i.n.k mit myself--if my blans succeed and I get Carnegie Hall for Sat.u.r.day 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?