The Melting-Pot

VERA

I mailed it myself-a week ago. And even in New York--

[She smiles. Re-enter KATHLEEN with the recovered candlestick.]

KATHLEEN

Bedad, ye're as great a shleep-walker as Mr. David!

[She places the candlestick on the table and moves toward her

bedroom.]

MENDEL

Kathleen!

KATHLEEN [Pursuing her walk without turning]

I'm not here!

MENDEL

Did you take in a letter for Mr. David about a week ago?

[Smiling at MISS REVENDAL] He doesn't get many, you see.

KATHLEEN [Turning]

A letter? Sure, I took in ounly a postcard from Miss Johnson, an' that ounly sayin'--

VERA

And you don't remember a letter-a large letter-last Saturday-with the seal of our Settlement?

KATHLEEN

Last Saturday wid a seal, is it? Sure, how could I forgit it?

MENDEL

Then you did take it in?

KATHLEEN

Ye're wrong entirely. 'Twas the misthress took it in.

MENDEL [To VERA]

I am sorry the boy has been so rude.

KATHLEEN

But the misthress didn't give it him at wanst-she hid it away bekaz it was Shabbos.

MENDEL

Oh, dear-and she has forgotten to give it to him. Excuse me.

[He makes a hurried exit to the kitchen.]

KATHLEEN

And excuse me-I've me thrunk to pack.

[She goes toward her bedroom, pauses at the door.] And ye'll witness I don't pack the candleshtick.

[Emphatic exit.]

VERA [Still dazed]

A Jew! That wonderful boy a Jew!... But then so was David the shepherd youth with his harp and his psalms, the sweet singer in Israel.

[She surveys the room and its contents with interest. The

windows rattle once or twice in the rising wind. The light gets

gradually less. She picks up the huge Hebrew tome on the piano

and puts it down with a slight smile as if overwhelmed by the

weight of alien antiquity. Then she goes over to the desk and

picks up the printed music.] Mendelssohn's Concerto, Tartini's Sonata in G Minor, Bach's Chaconne...

[She looks up at the book-rack.] 'History of the American Commonwealth,' 'Cyclopædia of History,' 'History of the Jews'-he seems very fond of history. Ah, there's Shelley and Tennyson.

[With surprise] Nietzsche next to the Bible? No Russian books apparently--

[Re-enter MENDEL triumphantly with a large sealed letter. ]

MENDEL

Here it is! As it came on Saturday, my mother was afraid David would open it!

VERA [Smiling]

But what can you do with a letter except open it? Any more than with an oyster?

MENDEL [Smiling as he puts the letter on DAVID'S desk]

To a pious Jew letters and oysters are alike forbidden-at least letters may not be opened on our day of rest.

VERA

I'm sure I couldn't rest till I'd opened mine.

[Enter from the kitchen FRAU QUIXANO, defending herself with

excited gesticulation. She is an old lady with a black wig, but

her appearance is dignified, venerable even, in no way comic. She

speaks Yiddish exclusively, that being largely the language of

the Russian Pale.]

FRAU QUIXANO

Obber ich hob gesogt zu Kathleen--

MENDEL [Turning and going to her]

Yes, yes, mother, that's all right now.

FRAU QUIXANO [In horror, perceiving her Hebrew book on the floor, where

KATHLEEN has dropped it] Mein Buch!

[She picks it up and kisses it piously.]

MENDEL [Presses her into her fireside chair]

Ruhig, ruhig, Mutter!

[To VERA] She understands barely a word of English-she won't disturb us.

VERA

Oh, but I must be going-I was so long finding the house, and look! it has begun to snow!

[They both turn their heads and look at the falling snow. ]

MENDEL

All the more reason to wait for David-it may leave off. He can't be long now. Do sit down.

[He offers a chair.]

FRAU QUIXANO [Looking round suspiciously]

Wos will die Shikseh?

VERA

What does your mother say?

MENDEL [Half-smiling]

Oh, only asking what your heathen ladyship desires.

VERA

Tell her I hope she is well.

MENDEL

Das Fräulein hofft dass es geht gut--

FRAU QUIXANO [Shrugging her shoulders in despairing astonishment]

Gut? Un' wie soll es gut gehen-in Amerika!

[She takes out her spectacles, and begins slowly polishing and

adjusting them.]