PAPPELMEISTER [_Brings down his umbrella with a bang_] _Schluss!_ No man ever dared break down under me. My baton will beat avay all dese faces and fancies. Out with your violin! [_He taps his umbrella imperiously on the table._] _Keinen Mut verlieren!_ [_DAVID takes out his violin from its case and puts it to his shoulder, PAPPELMEISTER keeping up a hypnotic torrent of encouraging German cries._] _Also! Fertig! Anfangen!_ [_He raises and waves his umbrella like a baton._] Von, dwo, dree, four---- DAVID [_With a great sigh of relief_] Thanks, thanks--they are gone already. PAPPELMEISTER Ha! Ha! Ha! You see. And ven ve blay your American symphony---- DAVID [_Dazed_] You will play my American symphony? VERA [_Disappointed_] Don't you jump for joy? DAVID [_Still dazed but ecstatic_] Herr Pappelmeister! [_Changing back to despondency_] But what certainty is there your Carnegie Hall audience would understand me? It would be the same smart set. [_He drops dejectedly into a chair and lays down his violin._] PAPPELMEISTER _Ach, nein._ Of course, some--ve can't keep peoble out merely because dey pay for deir seats. _Was?_ [_He laughs._] DAVID It was always my dream to play it first to the new immigrants--those who have known the pain of the old world and the hope of the new. PAPPELMEISTER Try it on the dog. _Was?_ DAVID Yes--on the dog that here will become a man! PAPPELMEISTER [_Shakes his head_] I fear neider dogs nor men are a musical breed. DAVID The immigrants will not understand my music with their brains or their ears, but with their hearts and their souls. VERA Well, then, why shouldn't it be done here--on our Roof-Garden? DAVID [_Jumping up_] A _Bas-Kôl_! A _Bas-Kôl_! VERA What _are_ you talking? DAVID Hebrew! It means a voice from heaven. VERA Ah, but will Herr Pappelmeister consent? PAPPELMEISTER [_Bowing_] Who can disobey a voice from heaven?... But ven? VERA On some holiday evening.... Why not the Fourth of July? DAVID [_Still more ecstatic_] Another _Bas-Kôl_!... My American Symphony! Played to the People! Under God's sky! On Independence Day! With all the---- [_Waving his hand expressively, sighs voluptuously._] That will be too perfect. PAPPELMEISTER [_Smiling_] Dat has to be seen. You must permit me to invite---- DAVID [_In horror_] Not the musical critics! PAPPELMEISTER [_Raising both hands with umbrella in equal horror_] _Gott bewahre!_ But I'd like to invite all de persons in New York who really undershtand music. VERA Splendid! But should we have room? PAPPELMEISTER Room? I vant four blaces. VERA [_Smiling_] You are severe! Mr. Davenport was right. PAPPELMEISTER [_Smiling_] Perhaps de oders vill be out of town. _Also!_ [_Holding out his hand to DAVID_] You come to Carnegie to-morrow at eleven. Yes? _Fräulein._ [_Kisses her hand._] _Auf Wiedersehen!_ [_Going_] On de Roof-Garden--_nicht wahr?_ VERA [_Smiling_] Wind and weather permitting.