The Melting-Pot Part 20

BARON You are always of the most amiable.

[_He strikes a match._]

BARONESS _Tout a fait charmant._ [_The BARON lights her cigarette._]

QUINCY [_Bows gallantly_]

Don't mention it. I'll just have my auto take me to the Club, and then I'll send it back for you.

BARONESS Ah, zank you--zat street-car looks horreeble.

[_She puffs out smoke._]

BARON Quite impossible. What is to prevent an anarchist sitting next to you and shooting out your brains?

QUINCY We haven't much of that here--I don't mean brains. Ha! Ha! Ha!

BARON But I saw desperadoes spying as we came off your yacht.

QUINCY Oh, that was newspaper chaps.

BARON [_Shakes his head_]

No--they are circulating my appearance to all the gang in the States.

They took snapshots.

QUINCY Then you're quite safe from recognition.

[_He sn.i.g.g.e.rs._]

Didn't they ask you questions?

BARON Yes, but I am a diplomat. I do not reply.

QUINCY That's not very diplomatic here. Ha! Ha!

BARON _Diable!_ [_He claps his hand to his hip pocket, half-producing a pistol.

The BARONESS looks equally anxious._]

QUINCY What's up?

BARON [_Points to window, whispers hoa.r.s.ely_]

Regard! A hooligan peeped in!

QUINCY [_Goes to window_]

Only some poor devil come to the Settlement.

BARON [_Hoa.r.s.ely_]

But under his arm--a bomb!

QUINCY [_Shaking his head smilingly_]

A soup bowl.

BARONESS Ha! Ha! Ha!

QUINCY What makes you so nervous, Baron?

[_The BARON slips back his pistol, a little ashamed._]

BARONESS Ze Intellectuals and ze _Bund_, zey all hate my husband because he is faizful to Christ [_Crossing herself_]

and ze Tsar.

QUINCY But the Intellectuals are in Russia.

BARON They have their branches here--the refugees are the leaders--it is a diabolical network.

QUINCY Well, anyhow, _we're_ not in Russia, eh? No, no, Baron, you're quite safe. Still, you can keep my automobile as long as you like--I've plenty.

BARON A thousand thanks.

[_Wiping his forehead._]

But surely no gentleman would sit in the public car, squeezed between working-men and shop-girls, not to say Jews and Blacks.

QUINCY It _is_ done here. But we shall change all that. Already we have a few taxi-cabs. Give us time, my dear Baron, give us time. You mustn't judge us by your European standard.

BARON By the European standard, Mr. Davenport, you put our hospitality to the shame. From the moment you sent your yacht for us to Odessa----

QUINCY Pray, don't ever speak of that again--you know how anxious I was to get you to New York.

BARON Provided we have arrived in time!

QUINCY That's all right, I keep telling you. They aren't married yet----

BARON [_Grinding his teeth and shaking his fist_]

Those Jew-vermin--all my life I have suffered from them!

QUINCY We all suffer from them.

BARONESS Zey are ze pests of ze civilisation.

BARON But this supreme insult Vera shall not put on the blood of the Revendals--not if I have to shoot her down with my own hand--and myself after!

QUINCY No, no, Baron, that's not done here. Besides, if you shoot her down, where do _I_ come in, eh?

BARON [_Puzzled_]

Where _you_ come in?

QUINCY Oh, Baron! Surely you have guessed that it is not merely Jew-hate, but--er--Christian love. Eh?

[_Laughing uneasily._]

BARON You!

BARONESS [_Clapping her hands_]

Oh, _charmant, charmant_! But it ees a romance!

BARON But you are married!