Part 4
DAVID What else could I do?
VERA I hate the smart set as much as you--but as your ladder and your trumpet----
DAVID I would not stand indebted to them. I know you meant it for my good, but what would these Europe-apers have understood of _my_ America--the America of my music? They look back on Europe as a pleasure ground, a palace of art--but I know [_Getting hysterical_] it is sodden with blood, red with bestial massacres----
VERA [_Alarmed, anxious_] Let us talk no more about it. [_She holds out her hand._] Good-bye.
DAVID [_Frozen, taking it, holding it_] Ah, you are offended by my ingratitude--I shall never see you again.
VERA No, I am not offended. But I have failed to help you. We have nothing else to meet for. [_She disengages her hand._]
DAVID Why will you punish me so? I have only hurt myself.
VERA It is not a _punishment_.
DAVID What else? When you are with me, all the air seems to tremble with fairy music played by some unseen fairy orchestra.
VERA [_Tremulous_] And yet you wouldn't come in just now when I----
DAVID I was too frightened of the others....
VERA [_Smiling_] Frightened indeed!
DAVID Yes, I know I became overbold--but to take all that magic sweetness out of my life for ever--you don't call that a punishment?
VERA [_Blushing_] How could I wish to punish you? I was proud of you! [_Drops her eyes, murmurs_] Besides it would be punishing _myself_.
DAVID [_In passionate amaze_] Miss Revendal!... But no, it cannot be. It is too impossible.
VERA [_Frightened_] Yes, too impossible. Good-bye. [_She turns._]
DAVID But not for always? [_VERA hangs her head. He comes nearer. Passionately_] Promise me that you--that I---- [_He takes her hand again._]
VERA [_Melting at his touch, breathes_] Yes, yes, David.
DAVID Miss Revendal! [_She falls into his arms._]
VERA My dear! my dear!
DAVID It is a dream. You cannot care for me--you so far above me.
VERA Above you, you simple boy? Your genius lifts you to the stars.
DAVID No, no; it is you who lift me there----
VERA [_Smoothing his hair_] Oh, David. And to think that I was brought up to despise your race.
DAVID [_Sadly_] Yes, all Russians are.
VERA But we of the nobility in particular.
DAVID [_Amazed, half-releasing her_] You are noble?
VERA My father is Baron Revendal, but I have long since carved out a life of my own.
DAVID Then he will not separate us?
VERA No. [_Re-embracing him._] Nothing can separate us. [_A knock at the street-door. They separate. The automobile is heard clattering off._]
DAVID It is my uncle coming back.
VERA [_In low, tense tones_] Then I shall slip out. I could not bear a third. I will write. [_She goes to the door._]
DAVID Yes, yes ... Vera. [_He follows her to the door. He opens it and she slips out._]
MENDEL [_Half-seen at the door, expostulating_] You, too, Miss Revendal----? [_Re-enters._] Oh, David, you have driven away all your friends.
DAVID [_Going to window and looking after VERA_] Not all, uncle. Not all. [_He throws his arms boyishly round his uncle._] I am so happy.
MENDEL Happy?
DAVID She loves me--Vera loves me.
MENDEL Vera?
DAVID Miss Revendal.
MENDEL Have you lost your wits? [_He throws DAVID off._]
DAVID I don't wonder you're amazed. Maybe you think _I_ wasn't. It is as if an angel should stoop down----
MENDEL [_Hoarsely_] This is true? This is not some stupid _Purim_ joke?
DAVID True and sacred as the sunrise.
MENDEL But you are a Jew!
DAVID Yes, and just think! She was bred up to despise Jews--her father was a Russian baron----
MENDEL If she was the daughter of fifty barons, you cannot marry her.
DAVID [_In pained amaze_] Uncle! [_Slowly_] Then your hankering after the synagogue was serious after all.
MENDEL It is not so much the synagogue--it is the call of our blood through immemorial generations.
DAVID _You_ say that! You who have come to the heart of the Crucible, where the roaring fires of God are fusing our race with all the others.
MENDEL [_Passionately_] Not _our_ race, not your race and mine.
DAVID What immunity has our race? [_Meditatively_] The pride and the prejudice, the dreams and the sacrifices, the traditions and the superstitions, the fasts and the feasts, things noble and things sordid--they must all into the Crucible.
MENDEL [_With prophetic fury_] The Jew has been tried in a thousand fires and only tempered and annealed.
DAVID Fires of hate, not fires of love. That is what melts.
MENDEL [_Sneeringly_] So I see.
DAVID Your sneer is false. The love that melted me was not Vera's--it was the love _America_ showed me--the day she gathered me to her breast.
MENDEL [_Speaking passionately and rapidly_] Many countries have gathered us. Holland took us when we were driven from Spain--but we did not become Dutchmen. Turkey took us when Germany oppressed us, but we have not become Turks.
DAVID These countries were not in the making. They were old civilisations stamped with the seal of creed. In such countries the Jew may be right to stand out. But here in this new secular Republic we must look forward----
MENDEL [_Passionately interrupting_] We must look backwards, too.
DAVID [_Hysterically_] To what? To Kishineff? [_As if seeing his vision_] To that butcher's face directing the slaughter? To those----?
MENDEL [_Alarmed_] Hush! Calm yourself!
DAVID [_Struggling with himself_] Yes, I will calm myself--but how else shall I calm myself save by forgetting all that nightmare of religions and races, save by holding out my hands with prayer and music toward the Republic of Man and the Kingdom of God! The Past I cannot mend--its evil outlines are stamped in immortal rigidity. Take away the hope that I can mend the Future, and you make me mad.
MENDEL You are mad already--your dreams are mad--the Jew is hated here as everywhere--you are false to your race.
DAVID I keep faith with America. I have faith America will keep faith with us. [_He raises his hands in religious rapture toward the flag over the door._] Flag of our great Republic, guardian of our homes, whose stars and----
MENDEL Spare me that rigmarole. Go out and marry your Gentile and be happy.
DAVID You turn me out?
MENDEL Would you stay and break my mother's heart? You know she would mourn for you with the rending of garments and the seven days' sitting on the floor. Go! You have cast off the God of our fathers!
DAVID [_Thundrously_] And the God of our children--does _He_ demand no service? [_Quieter, coming toward his uncle and touching him affectionately on the shoulder._] You are right--I do need a wider world. [_Expands his lungs._] I must go away.
MENDEL Go, then--I'll hide the truth--she must never suspect--lest she mourn you as dead.
FRAU QUIXANO [_Outside, in the kitchen_] Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! [_Both men turn toward the kitchen and listen._]
KATHLEEN Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!
FRAU QUIXANO AND KATHLEEN Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!
MENDEL [_Bitterly_] A merry _Purim_! [_The kitchen door opens and remains ajar. FRAU QUIXANO rushes in, carrying DAVID'S violin and bow. KATHLEEN looks in, grinning._]
FRAU QUIXANO [_Hilariously_] _Nu spiel noch! spiel!_ [_She holds the violin and bow appealingly toward DAVID._]
MENDEL [_Putting out a protesting hand_] No, no, David--I couldn't bear it.
DAVID But I must! You said she mustn't suspect. [_He looks lovingly at her as he loudly utters these words, which are unintelligible to her._] And it may be the last time I shall ever play for her. [_Changing to a mock merry smile as he takes the violin and bow from her_] _Gewiss_, Granny! [_He starts the same old Slavic dance._]
FRAU QUIXANO [_Childishly pleased_] He! He! He! [_She claps on a false grotesque nose from her pocket._]
DAVID [_Torn between laughter and tears_] Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!
MENDEL [_Shocked_] _Mutter!_
FRAU QUIXANO _Un' du auch_! [_She claps another false nose on MENDEL, laughing in childish glee at the effect. Then she starts dancing to the music, and KATHLEEN slips in and joyously dances beside her._]
DAVID [_Joining tearfully in the laughter_] Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! [_The curtain falls quickly. It rises again upon the picture of FRAU QUIXANO fallen back into a chair, exhausted with laughter, fanning herself with her apron, while KATHLEEN has dropped breathless across the arm of the armchair; DAVID is still playing on, and MENDEL, his false nose torn off, stands by, glowering. The curtain falls again and rises upon a final tableau of DAVID in his cloak and hat, stealing out of the door with his violin, casting a sad farewell glance at the old woman and at the home which has sheltered him._]
## Act III
_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.