The Melting-Pot (A Tale of Russian Jewish Immigrants). Israel Zangwill

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ his answer to the letter asking him to play for us on——

      KATHLEEN

      What way will I be tellin' him all that? I'm not here.

      VERA

      Eh?

      KATHLEEN

      I'm lavin'—just as soon as I've me thrunk packed.

      VERA

      Then I must write the message—can I write at this desk?

      KATHLEEN

      If the ould woman don't come in and shpy you.

      VERA

      What old woman?

      KATHLEEN

      Ould Mr. Quixano's mother—she wears a black wig, she's that houly.

      VERA [Bewildered]

      What? … But why should she mind my writing?

      KATHLEEN

      Look at the clock.

      [Vera looks at the clock, more puzzled than ever.]

      If ye're not quick, it'll be Shabbos.

      VERA

      Be what?

      KATHLEEN [Holds up hands of horror]

      Ye don't know what Shabbos is! A Jewess not know her own Sunday!

      VERA [Outraged]

      I, a Jewess! How dare you?

      KATHLEEN [Flustered]

      Axin' your pardon, miss, but ye looked a bit furrin and I——

      VERA [Frozen]

      I am a Russian.

      [Slowly and dazedly]

      Do I understand that Mr. Quixano is a Jew?

      KATHLEEN

      Two Jews, miss. Both of 'em.

      VERA

      Oh, but it is impossible.

      [Dazedly to herself]

      He had such charming manners.

      [Aloud again]

      You seem to think everybody Jewish. Are you sure Mr. Quixano is not Spanish?—the name sounds Spanish.

      KATHLEEN

      Shpanish!

      [She picks up the old Hebrew book on the armchair.]

      Look at the ould lady's book. Is that Shpanish?

      [She points to the Mizrach.]

      And that houly picture the ould lady says her pater-noster to! Is that Shpanish? And that houly table-cloth with the houly silver candle——

      [Cry of sudden astonishment]

      Why, I've ounly put——

      [She looks toward mantel and utters a great cry of alarm as she drops the Hebrew book on the floor.]

      Why, where's the other candleshtick! Mother in hivin, they'll say I shtole the candleshtick!

      [Perceiving that Vera is dazedly moving toward door]

      Beggin' your pardon, miss——

      [She is about to move a chair toward the desk.]

      VERA

      Thank you, I've changed my mind.

      KATHLEEN

      That's more than I'll do.

      VERA [Hand on door]

      Don't say I called at all.

      KATHLEEN

      Plaze yerself. What name did ye say?

      [Mendel enters hastily from his bedroom, completely transmogrified, minus the skull-cap, with a Prince Albert coat, and boots instead of slippers, so that his appearance is gentlemanly. Kathleen begins to search quietly and unostentatiously in the table-drawers, the chiffonier, etc., etc., for the candlestick.

      MENDEL

      I am sorry if I have kept you waiting——

      [He rubs his hands importantly.]

      You see I have so many pupils already. Won't you sit down?

      [He indicates a chair.]

      VERA [Flushing, embarrassed, releasing her hold of the door handle]

      Thank you—I—I—I didn't come about pianoforte lessons.

      MENDEL [Sighing in disappointment]

      Ach!

      VERA

      In fact I—er—it wasn't you I wanted at all—I was just going.

      MENDEL [Politely]

      Perhaps I can direct you to the house you are looking for.

      VERA

      Thank you, I won't trouble you.

      [She turns toward the door again.]

      MENDEL

      Allow me!

      [He opens the door for her.]

      VERA [Hesitating, struck by his manners, struggling with her anti-Jewish prejudice]

      It—it—was your son I wanted.

      MENDEL [His face lighting up]

      You mean my nephew, David. Yes, he gives violin lessons.

      [He closes the door.]

      VERA

      Oh, is he your nephew?

      MENDEL

      I СКАЧАТЬ