KATHLEEN [_Pouncing on it_] Here it is! [_Picks it up near the armchair._] OMNES Oh! KATHLEEN Sure, it's gotten all dirthy. [_She takes out a handkerchief and wipes the nose carefully._] QUINCY But why do you want a nose like that? KATHLEEN [_Proudly_] Bekaz we're Hebrews! QUINCY 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.