If they allowed smoking, it wouldn't be so bad.

ANOTHER MAN

I wonder if that woman across the aisle----

(THE GREAT PIANIST _bounces upon the stage so suddenly that he is bowing in the center before any one thinks to applaud. He makes three stiff bows. At the second the applause begins, swelling at once to a roar. He steps up to the piano, bows three times more, and then sits down. He hunches his shoulders, reaches for the pedals with his feet, spreads out his hands and waits for the clapper-clawing to cease. He is an undersized, paunchy East German, with hair the color of wet hay, and an extremely pallid complexion. Talc.u.m powder hides the fact that his nose is shiny and somewhat pink. His eyebrows are carefully penciled and there are artificial shadows under his eyes. His face is absolutely expressionless._)

THE VIRGIN

Oh!

THE MARRIED WOMEN

Oh!

THE OTHER WOMEN

Oh! How dreadfully handsome!

THE VIRGIN

Oh, such eyes, such depth! How he must have suffered! I'd like to hear him play the Prelude in D flat major. It would drive you crazy!

A HUNDRED OTHER WOMEN

I certainly _do_ hope he plays some Schumann.

OTHER WOMEN

What beautiful hands! I could kiss them!

(THE GREAT PIANIST, _throwing back his head, strikes the ma.s.sive opening chords of a Beethoven sonata. There is a sudden hush and each note is heard clearly. The tempo of the first movement, which begins after a grand pause, is_ allegro con brio, _and the first subject is given out in a sparkling cascade of sound. But, despite the buoyancy of the music, there is an unmistakable undercurrent of melancholy in the playing. The audience doesn't fail to notice it._)

THE VIRGIN

Oh, perfect! I could love him! Paderewski played it like a fox trot.

What poetry _he_ puts into it! I can see a soldier lover marching off to war.

ONE OF THE CRITICS

The a.s.s is dragging it. Doesn't _con brio_ mean--well, what the devil _does_ it mean? I forget. I must look it up before I write the notice.

Somehow, _brio_ suggests cheese. Anyhow, Pachmann plays it a d.a.m.n sight faster. It's safe to say _that_, at all events.

THE MARRIED WOMAN

Oh, I could listen to that sonata all day! The poetry he puts into it--even into the _allegro_! Just think what the _andante_ will be! I like music to be sad.

ANOTHER WOMAN

What a sob he gets into it!

MANY OTHER WOMEN

How exquisite!

THE GREAT PIANIST

(_Gathering himself together for the difficult development section._) That American beer will be the death of me! I wonder what they put in it to give it its ga.s.sy taste. And the so-called German beer they sell over here--_du heiliger Herr Jesu!_ Even Bremen would be ashamed of it. In Munchen the police would take a hand.

(_Aiming for the first and second C's above the staff, he accidentally strikes the C sharps instead and has to transpose three measures to get back into the key. The effect is harrowing, and he gives his audience a swift glance of apprehension._)

TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY WOMEN

What new beauties he gets out of it!

A MAN

He can tickle the ivories, all right, all right!

A CRITIC

Well, at any rate, he doesn't try to imitate Paderewski.

THE GREAT PIANIST

(_Relieved by the non-appearance of the hisses he expected._) Well, it's lucky for me that I'm not in Leipzig to-day! But in Leipzig an artist runs no risks: the beer is pure. The authorities see to that. The worse enemy of technic is biliousness, and biliousness is sure to follow bad beer. (_He gets to the_ coda _at last and takes it at a somewhat livelier pace._)

THE VIRGIN

How I envy the woman he loves! How it would thrill me to feel his arms about me--to be drawn closer, closer, closer! I would give up the whole world! What are conventions, prejudices, legal forms, morality, after all? Vanities! Love is beyond and above them all--and art is love! I think I must be a pagan.