The Melting-Pot Part 8

VERA Now you must go to him. Good-bye. Tell him I count upon him for the Concert.

MENDEL How good you are!

[_He follows her to the street-door._]

VERA [_At door_]

Say good-bye for me to your mother--she seems asleep.

MENDEL [_Opening outer door_]

I am sorry it is snowing so.

VERA We Russians are used to it.

[_Smiling, at exit_]

Good-bye--let us hope your David will turn out a Rubinstein.

MENDEL [_Closing the doors softly_]

I never thought a Russian Christian could be so human.

[_He looks at the clock._]

_Gott in Himmel_--my dancing cla.s.s!

[_He hurries into the overcoat hanging on the hat-rack. Re-enter DAVID, having composed himself, but still somewhat dazed._]

DAVID She is gone? Oh, but I have driven her away by my craziness. Is she very angry?

MENDEL Quite the contrary--she expects you at the Concert, and what is more----

DAVID [_Ecstatically_]

And she understood! She understood my Crucible of G.o.d! Oh, uncle, you don't know what it means to me to have somebody who understands me. Even you have never understood----

MENDEL [_Wounded_]

Nonsense! How can Miss Revendal understand you better than your own uncle?

DAVID [_Mystically exalted_]

I can't explain--I feel it.

MENDEL Of course she's interested in your music, thank Heaven. But what true understanding can there be between a Russian Jew and a Russian Christian?

DAVID What understanding? Aren't we both Americans?

MENDEL Well, I haven't time to discuss it now.

[_He winds his m.u.f.fler round his throat._]

DAVID Why, where are you going?

MENDEL [_Ironically_]

Where _should_ I be going--in the snow--on the eve of the Sabbath?

Suppose we say to synagogue!

DAVID Oh, uncle--how you always seem to hanker after those old things!

MENDEL [_Tartly_]

Nonsense!

[_He takes his umbrella from the stand._]

I don't like to see our people going to pieces, that's all.

DAVID Then why did you come to America? Why didn't you work for a Jewish land?

You're not even a Zionist.

MENDEL I can't argue now. There's a pack of giggling schoolgirls waiting to waltz.

DAVID The fresh romping young things! Think of their happiness! I should love to play for them.

MENDEL [_Sarcastically_]

I can see you are yourself again.

[_He opens the street-door--turns back._]

What about your own lesson? Can't we go together?

DAVID I must first write down what is singing in my soul--oh, uncle, it seems as if I knew suddenly what was wanting in my music!

MENDEL [_Drily_]

Well, don't forget what is wanting in the house! The rent isn't paid yet.

[_Exit through street-door. As he goes out, he touches and kisses the_ Mezuzah _on the door-post, with a subconsciously antagonistic revival of religious impulse. DAVID opens his desk, takes out a pile of musical ma.n.u.script, sprawls over his chair and, humming to himself, scribbles feverishly with the quill.

After a few moments FRAU QUIXANO yawns, wakes, and stretches herself. Then she looks at the clock._]

FRAU QUIXANO _Shabbos!_ [_She rises and goes to the table and sees there are no candles, walks to the chiffonier and gets them and places them in the candlesticks, then lights the candles, muttering a ceremonial Hebrew benediction._]

_Boruch atto haddoshem elloheinu melech hoolam a.s.sher kiddishonu bemitzvosov vettzivonu lehadlik neir shel shabbos._ [_She pulls down the blinds of the two windows, then she goes to the rapt composer and touches him, remindingly, on the shoulder.

He does not move, but continues writing._]

_Dovidel!_ [_He looks up dazedly. She points to the candles._]

_Shabbos!_ [_A sweet smile comes over his face, he throws the quill resignedly away and submits his head to her hands and her muttered Hebrew blessing._]

_Yesimcho elohim ke-efrayim vechimna.s.seh--yevorechecho haddoshem veyishmerecho, yoer hadoshem ponov eilecho vechunecho, yisso hadoshem ponov eilecho veyosem lecho sholom._ [_Then she goes toward the kitchen. As she turns at the door, he is again writing. She shakes her finger at him, repeating_]

_Gut Shabbos!_

DAVID _Gut Shabbos!_ [_Puts down the pen and smiles after her till the door closes, then with a deep sigh takes his cape from the peg and his violin-case, pauses, still humming, to take up his pen and write down a fresh phrase, finally puts on his hat and is just about to open the street-door when KATHLEEN enters from her bedroom fully dressed to go, and laden with a large brown paper parcel and an umbrella. He turns at the sound of her footsteps and remains at the door, holding his violin-case during the ensuing dialogue._]

DAVID You're not going out this bitter weather?

KATHLEEN [_Sharply fending him off with her umbrella_]

And who's to shtay me?

DAVID Oh, but you mustn't--_I'll_ do your errand--what is it?

KATHLEEN [_Indignantly_]

Errand, is it, indeed! I'm not here!

DAVID Not here?

KATHLEEN I'm lavin', they'll come for me thrunk--and ye'll witness I don't take the candleshtick.

DAVID But who's sending you away?

KATHLEEN It's sending meself away I am--yer houly grandmother has me disthroyed intirely.