The Melting-Pot by Israel Zangwill (great books to read TXT) 📖

>[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.