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 sn.i.g.g.e.rs._]

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.

[_Sn.i.g.g.e.ringly._]

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 ma.s.sacre?

BARON Which one? Give me a cigarette, Katusha.

[_She obeys._]

We've had several Jew-ma.s.sacres 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, d.a.m.n '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 cla.s.s! 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 ma.s.sacres. Still, we're a bit squeamish----

BARON Squeamish! Don't you lynch and roast your n.i.g.g.e.rs?

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 G.o.d'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 Amba.s.sador 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 cla.s.ses by s.n.a.t.c.hing all the prizes and professorships, ruin our commercial cla.s.ses 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 ma.s.sacred, 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 pa.s.sing._]