[Smiling]
But what can you do with a letter except open it? Any more than with an oyster?
MENDEL [Smiling as he puts the letter on David's desk]
To a pious Jew letters and oysters are alike forbidden—at least letters may not be opened on our day of rest.
VERA
I'm sure I couldn't rest till I'd opened mine.
[Enter from the kitchen Frau Quixano, defending herself with excited gesticulation. She is an old lady with a black wig, but her appearance is dignified, venerable even, in no way comic. She speaks Yiddish exclusively, that being largely the language of the Russian Pale.]
FRAU QUIXANO
Obber ich hob gesogt zu Kathleen——
MENDEL [Turning and going to her]
Yes, yes, mother, that's all right now.
FRAU QUIXANO [In horror, perceiving her Hebrew book on the floor, where Kathleen has dropped it]
Mein Buch!
[She picks it up and kisses it piously.]
MENDEL [Presses her into her fireside chair]
Ruhig, ruhig, Mutter!
[To Vera]
She understands barely a word of English—she won't disturb us.
VERA
Oh, but I must be going—I was so long finding the house, and look! it has begun to snow!
[They both turn their heads and look at the falling snow.]
MENDEL
All the more reason to wait for David—it may leave off. He can't be long now. Do sit down.
[He offers a chair.]
FRAU QUIXANO [Looking round suspiciously]
Wos will die Shikseh?
VERA
What does your mother say?
MENDEL [Half-smiling]
Oh, only asking what your heathen ladyship desires.
VERA
Tell her I hope she is well.
MENDEL
Das Fräulein hofft dass es geht gut——
FRAU QUIXANO [Shrugging her shoulders in despairing astonishment]
Gut? Un' wie soll es gut gehen—in Amerika!
[She takes out her spectacles, and begins slowly polishing and adjusting them.]
VERA [Smiling]
I understood that last word.
MENDEL
She asks how can anything possibly go well in America!
VERA
Ah, she doesn't like America.
MENDEL [Half-smiling]
Her favourite exclamation is "A Klog zu Columbessen!"
VERA
What does that mean?
MENDEL
Cursed be Columbus!
VERA [Laughingly]
Poor Columbus! I suppose she's just come over.
MENDEL
Oh, no, it must be ten years since I sent for her.
VERA
Really! But your nephew was born here?
MENDEL
No, he's Russian too. But please sit down, you had better get his answer at once.
[Vera sits.]
VERA
I suppose you taught him music.
MENDEL
I? I can't play the violin. He is self-taught. In the Russian Pale he was a wonder-child. Poor David! He always looked forward to coming to America; he imagined I was a famous musician over here. He found me conductor in a cheap theatre—a converted beer-hall.
VERA
Was he very disappointed?
MENDEL
Disappointed? He was enchanted! He is crazy about America.
VERA [Smiling]
Ah, he doesn't curse Columbus.
MENDEL
My mother came with her life behind her: David with his life before him. Poor boy!
VERA
Why do you say poor boy?
MENDEL
What is there before him here but a terrible struggle for life? If he doesn't curse Columbus, he'll curse fate. Music-lessons and dance-halls, beer-halls and weddings—every hope and ambition will be ground out of him, and he will die obscure and unknown.
[His head sinks on his breast, Frau Quixano is heard faintly sobbing over her book. The sobbing continues throughout the scene.]
VERA [Half rising]
You have made your mother cry.
MENDEL
Oh, no—she understood nothing. She always cries on the eve of the Sabbath.
VERA [Mystified, sinking back into her chair]
Always cries? Why?
MENDEL [Embarrassed]
Oh, well, a Christian wouldn't understand——
VERA
Yes I could—do tell me!
MENDEL
