QUINCY [_Outraged_]

Sh to _me_!

[_Rises._]

VERA He doesn't know it's you.

QUINCY But look here, Poppy---- [_He seizes the wildly-moving umbrella. Blank stare of PAPPELMEISTER gradually returning to consciousness._]

PAPPELMEISTER _Was giebt's...?_

QUINCY We've had enough.

PAPPELMEISTER [_Indignant_]

Enough? Enough? Of such a beaudiful symphony?

QUINCY It may be beautiful to you, but to us it's d.a.m.n dull. See here, Poppy, if you're satisfied that the young fellow has sufficient talent to be sent to study in Germany----

PAPPELMEISTER In Germany! Germany has nodings to teach him, he has to teach Germany.

VERA Bravo!

[_She springs up._]

MENDEL I always said he was a genius!

QUINCY Well, at that rate you could put this stuff of his in one of my programmes. _Sinfonia Americana_, eh?

VERA Oh, that _is_ good of you.

PAPPELMEISTER I should be broud to indroduce it to de vorld.

VERA And will it be played in that wonderful marble music-room overlooking the Hudson?

QUINCY Sure. Before five hundred of the smartest folk in America.

MENDEL Oh, thank you, thank you. That will mean fame!

QUINCY And dollars. Don't forget the dollars.

MENDEL I'll run and tell him.

[_He hastens into the kitchen, PAPPELMEISTER is re-absorbed in the MS., but no longer conducting._]

QUINCY You see, I'll help even a Jew for your sake.

VERA Hush!

[_Indicating PAPPELMEISTER._]

QUINCY Oh, Poppy's in the moon.

VERA You must help him for his own sake, for art's sake.

QUINCY And why not for heart's sake--for my sake?

[_He comes nearer._]

VERA [_Crossing to PAPPELMEISTER_]

Herr Pappelmeister! When do you think you can produce it?

PAPPELMEISTER _Wunderbar!..._ [_Becoming half-conscious of VERA_]

Four lumps....

[_Waking up_]

_Bitte?_

VERA How soon can you produce it?

PAPPELMEISTER How soon can he finish it?

VERA Isn't it finished?

PAPPELMEISTER I see von Finale scratched out and anoder not quite completed. But anyhow, ve couldn't broduce it before Sat.u.r.day fortnight.

QUINCY Sat.u.r.day fortnight! Not time to get my crowd.

PAPPELMEISTER Den ve say Sat.u.r.day dree veeks. Yes?

QUINCY Yes. Stop a minute! Did you say Sat.u.r.day? That's my comic opera night!

You thief!

PAPPELMEISTER Somedings must be sagrificed.

MENDEL [_Outside_]

But you _must_ come, David.

[_The kitchen door opens, and MENDEL drags in the boyishly shrinking DAVID. PAPPELMEISTER thumps with his umbrella, VERA claps her hands, QUINCY DAVENPORT produces his eyegla.s.s and surveys DAVID curiously._]

VERA Oh, Mr. Quixano, I am so glad! Mr. Davenport is going to produce your symphony in his wonderful music-room.

QUINCY Yes, young man, I'm going to give you the smartest audience in America.

And if Poppy is right, you're just going to rake in the dollars. America wants a composer.

PAPPELMEISTER [_Raises hands emphatically._]

_Ach Gott, ja!_

VERA [_To DAVID_]

Why don't you speak? You're not angry with me for interfering----?

DAVID I can never be grateful enough to you----

VERA Oh, not to me. It is to Mr. Davenport you----

DAVID And I can never be grateful enough to Herr Pappelmeister. It is an honour even to meet him.

[_Bows._]