The Melting-Pot

What!

VERA

What do you mean?

KATHLEEN

It's our Carnival to-day! Purim.

[She carries her nose carefully and piously toward the

kitchen.]

VERA

Oh! I see.

[Exit KATHLEEN.]

QUINCY [In horror]

Miss Revendal, you don't mean to say you've brought me to a Jew!

VERA

I'm afraid I have. I was thinking only of his genius, not his race. And you see, so many musicians are Jews.

QUINCY

Not my musicians. No Jew's harp in my orchestra, eh?

[He sniggers.] I wouldn't have a Jew if he paid me.

VERA

I daresay you have some, all the same.

QUINCY

Impossible. Poppy! Are there any Jews in my orchestra?

PAPPELMEISTER [Removing the cup from his mouth and speaking with

sepulchral solemnity] Do you mean are dere any Christians?

QUINCY [In horror]

Gee-rusalem! Perhaps you're a Jew!

PAPPELMEISTER [Gravely]

I haf not de honour. But, if you brefer, I will gut out from my brogrammes all de Chewish composers. Was?

QUINCY

Why, of course. Fire 'em out, every mother's son of 'em.

PAPPELMEISTER [Unsmiling]

Also-no more comic operas!

QUINCY

What!!!

PAPPELMEISTER

Dey write all de comic operas!

QUINCY

Brute!

[PAPPELMEISTER'S chuckle is heard gurgling in his cup. Re-enter

MENDEL from kitchen.]

MENDEL [To VERA]

I'm so sorry-I can't get him to come in-he's terrible shy.

QUINCY

Won't face the music, eh?

[He sniggers.]

VERA

Did you tell him I was here?

MENDEL

Of course.

VERA [Disappointed]

Oh!

MENDEL

But I've persuaded him to let me show his MS.

VERA [With forced satisfaction]

Oh, well, that's all we want.

[MENDEL goes to the desk, opens it, and gets the MS. and offers

it to QUINCY DAVENPORT.]

QUINCY

Not for me-Poppy!

[MENDEL offers it to PAPPELMEISTER, who takes it solemnly. ]

MENDEL [Anxiously to PAPPELMEISTER]

Of course you must remember his youth and his lack of musical education--

PAPPELMEISTER

Bitte, das Pult!

[MENDEL moves DAVID'S music-stand from the corner to the centre

of the room. PAPPELMEISTER puts MS. on it.] So!

[All eyes centre on him eagerly, MENDEL standing uneasily, the

others sitting. PAPPELMEISTER polishes his glasses with

irritating elaborateness and weary 'achs,' then reads in absolute

silence. A pause.]

QUINCY [Bored by the silence]

But won't you play it to us?

PAPPELMEISTER

Blay it? Am I an orchestra? I blay it in my brain.

[He goes on reading, his brow gets wrinkled. He ruffles his hair

unconsciously. All watch him anxiously-he turns the page. ] So!

VERA [Anxiously]

You don't seem to like it!

PAPPELMEISTER

I do not comprehend it.

MENDEL

I knew it was crazy-it is supposed to be about America or a Crucible or something. And of course there are heaps of mistakes.

VERA

That is why I am suggesting to Mr. Davenport to send him to Germany.

QUINCY

I'll send as many Jews as you like to Germany. Ha! Ha! Ha!

PAPPELMEISTER [Absorbed, turning pages]

Ach!-ach!-So!

QUINCY

I'd even lend my own yacht to take 'em back. Ha! Ha! Ha!

VERA

Sh! We're disturbing Herr Pappelmeister.

QUINCY

Oh, Poppy's all right.

PAPPELMEISTER [Sublimely unconscious]