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_]
_Ach so--so--SO! Das ist etwas neues!_
[_His umbrella begins to beat time, moving more and more
vigorously,