PAPPELMEISTER No, but de Christian had--he get de same--I mean salary, ha! ha! ha! not children. Den he can be independent--vedder de fool-public like his American symphony or not--_nicht wahr?_

VERA You _are_ good to us---- [_Hastily correcting herself_]

to Mr. Quixano.

PAPPELMEISTER [_Smiling_]

And aldough you cannot broduce him, I broduce his symphony. _Was?_

VERA Oh, Herr Pappelmeister! You are an angel.

PAPPELMEISTER _Nein, nein, mein liebes Kind!_ I fear I haf not de correct shape for an angel.

[_He laughs heartily. A knock at the door from the hall._]

VERA [_Merrily_]

_Now_ I clap my hands.

[_She claps._]

Come!

[_The door opens._]

Behold him!

[_She makes a conjurer's gesture. DAVID, bare-headed, carrying his fiddle, opens the door, and stands staring in amazement at PAPPELMEISTER._]

DAVID I thought you asked me to meet your father.

PAPPELMEISTER She is a magician. She has changed us.

[_He waves his umbrella._]

Hey presto, _was_? Ha! Ha! Ha!

[_He goes to DAVID, and shakes hands._]

_Und wie geht's?_ I hear you've left home.

DAVID Yes, but I've such a bully cabin----

PAPPELMEISTER [_Alarmed_]

You are sailing avay?

VERA [_Laughing_]

No, no--that's only his way of describing his two-dollar-a-month garret.

DAVID Yes--my state-room on the top deck!

VERA [_Smiling_]

Six foot square.

DAVID But three other pa.s.sengers aren't squeezed in, and it never pitches and tosses. It's heavenly.

PAPPELMEISTER [_Smiling_]

And from heaven you flew down to blay in dat beer-hall. _Was?_ [_DAVID looks surprised._]

_I_ heard you.

DAVID You! What on earth did you go _there_ for?

PAPPELMEISTER Vat on earth does one go to a beer-hall for? Ha! Ha! Ha! For vawter! Ha!

Ha! Ha! Ven I hear you blay, I d.i.n.k mit myself--if my blans succeed and I get Carnegie Hall for Sat.u.r.day Symphony Concerts, dat boy shall be one of my first violins. _Was?_ [_He slaps DAVID on the left shoulder._]

DAVID [_Overwhelmed, ecstatic, yet wincing a little at the slap on his wound._]

Be one of your first---- [_Remembering_]

Oh, but it is impossible.

VERA [_Alarmed_]

Mr. Quixano! You must not refuse.

DAVID But does Herr Pappelmeister know about the wound in my shoulder?

PAPPELMEISTER [_Agitated_]

You haf been vounded?

DAVID Only a legacy from Russia--but it twinges in some weathers.

PAPPELMEISTER And de pain ubsets your blaying?

DAVID Not so much the pain--it's all the dreadful memories--

VERA [_Alarmed_]

Don't talk of them.

DAVID I _must_ explain to Herr Pappelmeister--it wouldn't be fair. Even now [_Shuddering_]

there comes up before me the bleeding body of my mother, the cold, fiendish face of the Russian officer, supervising the slaughter----

VERA Hush! Hush!

DAVID [_Hysterically_]

Oh, that butcher's face--there it is--hovering in the air, that narrow, fanatical forehead, that----

PAPPELMEISTER [_Brings down his umbrella with a bang_]

_Schluss!_ No man ever dared break down under me. My baton will beat avay all dese faces and fancies. Out with your violin!

[_He taps his umbrella imperiously on the table._]

_Keinen Mut verlieren!_ [_DAVID takes out his violin from its case and puts it to his shoulder, PAPPELMEISTER keeping up a hypnotic torrent of encouraging German cries._]

_Also! Fertig! Anfangen!_ [_He raises and waves his umbrella like a baton._]

Von, dwo, dree, four----

DAVID [_With a great sigh of relief_]

Thanks, thanks--they are gone already.

PAPPELMEISTER Ha! Ha! Ha! You see. And ven ve blay your American symphony----

DAVID [_Dazed_]

You will play my American symphony?

VERA [_Disappointed_]

Don't you jump for joy?