Part 6

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._]

## Act IV

_Saturday, July 4, evening. The Roof-Garden of the Settlement House, showing a beautiful, far-stretching panorama of New York, with its irregular sky-buildings on the left, and the harbour with its Statue of Liberty on the right. Everything is wet and gleaming after rain. Parapet at the back. Elevator on the right. Entrance from the stairs on the left. In the sky hang heavy clouds through which thin, golden lines of sunset are just beginning to labour. DAVID is discovered on a bench, hugging his violin-case to his breast, gazing moodily at the sky. A muffled sound of applause comes up from below and continues with varying intensity through the early part of the scene. Through it comes the noise of the elevator ascending. MENDEL steps out and hurries forward_.

MENDEL Come down, David! Don't you hear them shouting for you? [_He passes his hand over the wet bench._] Good heavens! You will get rheumatic fever!

DAVID Why have you followed me?

MENDEL Get up--everything is still damp.

DAVID [_Rising, gloomily_] Yes, there's a damper over everything.

MENDEL Nonsense--the rain hasn't damped your triumph in the least. In fact, the more delicate effects wouldn't have gone so well in the open air. Listen!

DAVID Let them shout. Who told you I was up here?

MENDEL Miss Revendal, of course.

DAVID [_Agitated_] Miss Revendal? How should _she_ know?

MENDEL [_Sullenly_] She seems to understand your crazy ways.

DAVID [_Passing his hand over his eyes_] Ah, _you_ never understood me, uncle.... How did she look? Was she pale?

MENDEL Never mind about Miss Revendal. Pappelmeister wants you--the people insist on seeing you. Nobody can quiet them.

DAVID They saw me all through the symphony in my place in the orchestra.

MENDEL They didn't know you were the composer as well as the first violin. Now Miss Revendal has told them. [_Louder applause._] There! Eleven minutes it has gone on--like for an office-seeker. You _must_ come and show yourself.

DAVID I won't--I'm not an office-seeker. Leave me to my misery.

MENDEL Your misery? With all this glory and greatness opening before you? Wait till you're _my_ age---- [_Shouts of "QUIXANO!"_] You hear! What is to be done with them?

DAVID Send somebody on the platform to remind them this is the interval for refreshments!

MENDEL Don't be cynical. You know your dearest wish was to melt these simple souls with your music. And now----

DAVID Now I have only made my own stony.

MENDEL You are right. You are stone all over--ever since you came back home to us. Turned into a pillar of salt, mother says--like Lot's wife.

DAVID That was the punishment for looking backward. Ah, uncle, there's more sense in that old Bible than the Rabbis suspect. Perhaps that is the secret of our people's paralysis--we are always looking backward. [_He drops hopelessly into an iron garden-chair behind him._]

MENDEL [_Stopping him before he touches the seat_] Take care--it's sopping wet. You don't look backward enough. [_He takes out his handkerchief and begins drying the chair._]

DAVID [_Faintly smiling_] I thought you wanted the salt to melt.

MENDEL It _is_ melting a little if you can smile. Do you know, David, I haven't seen you smile since that _Purim_ afternoon?

DAVID You haven't worn a false nose since, uncle. [_He laughs bitterly._] Ha! Ha! Ha! Fancy masquerading in America because twenty-five centuries ago the Jews escaped a _pogrom_ in Persia. Two thousand five hundred years ago! Aren't we uncanny? [_He drops into the wiped chair._]

MENDEL [_Angrily_] Better you should leave us altogether than mock at us. I thought it was your Jewish heart that drove you back home to us; but if you are still hankering after Miss Revendal----

DAVID [_Pained_] Uncle!

MENDEL I'd rather see you marry her than go about like this. You couldn't make the house any gloomier.

DAVID Go back to the concert, please. They have quieted down.

MENDEL [_Hesitating_] And you?

DAVID Oh, I'm not playing in the popular after-pieces. Pappelmeister guessed I'd be broken up with the stress of my own symphony--he has violins enough.

MENDEL Then you don't want to carry this about. [_Taking the violin from DAVID'S arms._]

DAVID [_Clinging to it_] Don't rob me of my music--it's all I have.

MENDEL You'll spoil it in the wet. I'll take it home.

DAVID No---- [_He suddenly catches sight of two figures entering from the left--FRAU QUIXANO and KATHLEEN clad in their best, and wearing tiny American flags in honour of Independence Day. KATHLEEN escorts the old lady, with the air of a guardian angel, on her slow, tottering course toward DAVID. FRAU QUIXANO is puffing and panting after the many stairs. DAVID jumps up in surprise, releases the violin-case to MENDEL._] They at my symphony!

MENDEL Mother _would_ come--even though, being _Shabbos_, she had to walk.

DAVID But wasn't she shocked at my playing on the Sabbath?

MENDEL No--that's the curious part of it. She said that even as a boy you played your fiddle on _Shabbos_, and that if the Lord has stood it all these years, He must consider you an exception.

DAVID You see! She's more sensible than you thought. I daresay whatever I were to do she'd consider me an exception.

MENDEL [_In sullen acquiescence_] I suppose geniuses _are_.

KATHLEEN [_Reaching them; panting with admiration and breathlessness_] Oh, Mr. David! it was like midnight mass! But the misthress was ashleep.

DAVID Asleep! [_Laughs half-merrily, half-sadly._] Ha! Ha! Ha!

FRAU QUIXANO [_Panting and laughing in response_] He! He! He! _Dovidel lacht widder._ He! He! He! [_She touches his arm affectionately, but feeling his wet coat, utters a cry of horror._] _Du bist nass!_

DAVID _Es ist gor nicht_, Granny--my clothes are thick. [_She fusses over him, wiping him down with her gloved hand._]

MENDEL But what brought you up here, Kathleen?

KATHLEEN Sure, not the elevator. The misthress said 'twould be breaking the _Shabbos_ to ride up in it.

DAVID [_Uneasily_] But did---did Miss Revendal send you up?

KATHLEEN And who else should be axin' the misthress if she wasn't proud of Mr. David? Faith, she's a sweet lady.

MENDEL [_Impatiently_] Don't chatter, Kathleen.

KATHLEEN But, Mr. Quixano----!

DAVID [_Sweetly_] Please take your mistress down again--don't let her walk.

KATHLEEN But _Shabbos_ isn't out yet!

MENDEL Chattering again!

DAVID [_Gently_] There's no harm, Kathleen, in going _down_ in the elevator.

KATHLEEN Troth, I'll egshplain to her that droppin' down isn't ridin'.

DAVID [_Smiling_] Yes, tell her dropping down is natural--not _work_, like flying up. [_Kathleen begins to move toward the stairs, explaining to FRAU QUIXANO._] And, Kathleen! You'll get her some refreshments.

KATHLEEN [_Turns, glaring_] Refrishments, is it? Give her refrishments where they mix the mate with the butther plates! Oh, Mr. David! [_She moves off toward the stairs in reproachful sorrow._]

MENDEL [_Smiling_] I'll get her some coffee.

DAVID [_Smiling_] Yes, that'll keep her awake. Besides, Pappelmeister was so sure the people wouldn't understand me, he's relaxing them on Gounod and Rossini.

MENDEL Pappelmeister's idea of relaxation! _I_ should have given them comic opera. [_With sudden call to KATHLEEN, who with her mistress is at the wrong exit._] Kathleen! The elevator's _this_ side!

KATHLEEN [_Turning_] What way can that be, when I came up _this_ side?

MENDEL You chatter too much. [_FRAU QUIXANO, not understanding, exit._] Come this way. Can't you see the elevator?

KATHLEEN [_Perceives FRAU QUIXANO has gone, calls after her in Irish-sounding Yiddish_] _Wu geht Ihr_, bedad?... [_Impatiently_] Houly Moses, _komm' zurick_! [_Exit anxiously, re-enter with FRAU QUIXANO._] Begorra, we Jews never know our way. [_MENDEL, carrying the violin, escorts his mother and KATHLEEN to the elevator. When they are near it, it stops with a thud, and PAPPELMEISTER springs out, his umbrella up, meeting them face to face. He looks happy and beaming over DAVID'S triumph._]

PAPPELMEISTER [_In loud, joyous voice_] _Nun, Frau Quixano, was sagen Sie?_ Vat you tink of your David?

FRAU QUIXANO _Dovid? Er ist meshuggah._ [_She taps her forehead._]

PAPPELMEISTER [_Puzzled, to MENDEL_] _Meshuggah!_ Vat means _meshuggah_? Crazy?

MENDEL [_Half-smiling_] You've struck it. She says David doesn't know enough to go in out of the rain. [_General laughter._]

DAVID [_Rising_] But it's stopped raining, Herr Pappelmeister. You don't want your umbrella. [_General laughter._]

PAPPELMEISTER _So._ [_Shuts it down._]

MENDEL _Herein, Mutter._ [_He pushes FRAU QUIXANO'S somewhat shrinking form into the elevator. KATHLEEN follows, then MENDEL._] Herr Pappelmeister, we are all your grateful servants. [_PAPPELMEISTER bows; the gates close, the elevator descends._]

DAVID And you won't think _me_ ungrateful for running away--you know my thanks are too deep to be spoken.

PAPPELMEISTER And zo are my congratulations!

DAVID Then, don't speak them, please.

PAPPELMEISTER But you _must_ come and speak to all de people in America who undershtand music.

DAVID [_Half-smiling_] To your four connoisseurs? [_Seriously_] Oh, please! I really could not meet strangers, especially musical vampires.

PAPPELMEISTER [_Half-startled, half-angry_] Vampires? Oh, come!

DAVID Voluptuaries, then--rich, idle æsthetes to whom art and life have no connection, parasites who suck our music----

PAPPELMEISTER [_Laughs good-naturedly_] Ha! Ha! Ha! Vait till you hear vat dey say.

DAVID I will wait as long as you like.

PAPPELMEISTER Den I like to tell you now. [_He roars with mischievous laughter._] Ha! Ha! Ha! De first vampire says it is a great vork, but poorly performed.

DAVID [_Indignant_] Oh!

PAPPELMEISTER De second vampire says it is a poor vork, but greatly performed.

DAVID [_Disappointed_] Oh!

PAPPELMEISTER De dird vampire says it is a great vork greatly performed.

DAVID [_Complacently_] Ah!

PAPPELMEISTER And de fourz vampire says it is a poor vork poorly performed.

DAVID [_Angry and disappointed_] Oh! [_Then smiling_] You see you _have_ to go by the people after all.

PAPPELMEISTER [_Shakes head, smiling_] _Nein._ Ven critics disagree--I agree mit mineself. Ha! Ha! Ha! [_He slaps DAVID on the back._] A great vork dat vill be even better performed next time! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ten dousand congratulations. [_He seizes DAVID'S hand and grips it heartily._]

DAVID Don't! You hurt me.

PAPPELMEISTER [_Dropping DAVID'S hand,--misunderstanding_] Pardon! I forgot your vound.

DAVID No--no--what does my wound matter? That never stung half so much as these clappings and congratulations.

PAPPELMEISTER [_Puzzled but solicitous_] I knew your nerves vould be all shnapping like fiddle-shtrings. Oh, you cheniuses! [_Smiling._] You like neider de clappings nor de criticisms,--_was_?

DAVID They are equally--irrelevant. One has to wrestle with one's own art, one's own soul, _alone_!

PAPPELMEISTER [_Patting him soothingly_] I am glad I did not let you blay in Part Two.

DAVID Dear Herr Pappelmeister! Don't think I don't appreciate all your kindnesses--you are almost a father to me.

PAPPELMEISTER And you disobey me like a son. Ha! Ha! Ha! Vell, I vill make your excuses to de--vampires. Ha! Ha! _Also_, David. [_He lays his hand again affectionately on DAVID'S right shoulder._] _Lebe wohl!_ I must go down to my popular classics. [_Gloomily_] Truly a going down! _Was?_

DAVID [_Smiling_] Oh, it isn't such a descent as all that. Uncle said you ought to have given them comic opera.

PAPPELMEISTER [_Shuddering convulsively_] Comic opera.... Ouf! [_He goes toward the elevator and rings the bell. Then he turns to DAVID._] Vat vas dat vord, David?

DAVID What word?

PAPPELMEISTER [_Groping for it_] _Mega--megasshu_....

DAVID [_Puzzled_] _Megasshu?_ [_The elevator comes up; the gates open._]

PAPPELMEISTER _Megusshah!_ You know. [_He taps his forehead with his umbrella._]

DAVID Ah, _meshuggah_!

PAPPELMEISTER [_Joyously_] _Ja, meshuggah!_ [_He gives a great roar of laughter._] Ha! Ha! Ha! [_He waves umbrella at DAVID._] Well, don't be ... _meshuggah_. [_He steps into the elevator._] Ha! Ha! Ha! [_The gates close, and it descends with his laughter._]

DAVID [_After a pause_] Perhaps I _am_ ... _meshuggah_. [_He walks up and down moodily, approaches the parapet at back._] Dropping down is indeed natural. [_He looks over._] How it tugs and drags at one! [_He moves back resolutely and shakes his head._] That would be even a greater descent than Pappelmeister's to comic opera. One _must_ fly upward--somehow. [_He drops on the chair that MENDEL dried. A faint music steals up and makes an accompaniment to all the rest of the scene._] Ah! the popular classics! [_His head sinks on a little table. The elevator comes up again, but he does not raise his head. VERA, pale and sad, steps out and walks gently over to him; stands looking at him with maternal pity; then decides not to disturb him and is stealing away when suddenly he looks up and perceives her and springs to his feet with a dazed glad cry._] Vera!

VERA [_Turns, speaks with grave dignity_] Miss Andrews has charged me to convey to you the heart-felt thanks and congratulations of the Settlement.

DAVID [_Frozen_] Miss Andrews is very kind.... I trust you are well.

VERA Thank you, Mr. Quixano. Very well and very busy. So you'll excuse me. [_She turns to go._]

DAVID Certainly.... How are your folks?

VERA [_Turns her head_] They are gone back to Russia. And yours?

DAVID You just saw them all.

VERA [_Confused_] Yes--yes--of course--I forgot! Good-bye, Mr. Quixano.

DAVID Good-bye, Miss Revendal. [_He drops back on the chair. VERA walks to the elevator, then just before ringing turns again._]

VERA I shouldn't advise you to sit here in the damp.

DAVID My uncle dried the chair. [_Bitterly_] Curious how every one is concerned about my body and no one about my soul.

VERA Because your soul is so much stronger than your body. Why, think! It has just lifted a thousand people far higher than this roof-garden.

DAVID Please don't you congratulate me, too! That would be too ironical.

VERA [_Agitated, coming nearer_] Irony, Mr. Quixano? Please, please, do not imagine there is any irony in my congratulations.

DAVID The irony is in all the congratulations. How can I endure them when I know what a terrible failure I have made!