The Ghetto Part 17

But do you think----?

RAFAEL.

But you won't be betrayed by an old man's l.u.s.t for gold. No! You'll say: "Father, I have a heart; I will not give myself to one I do not love, to soothe your itching palm!" You'll look well saying that, Rebecca! You'll stand and face him in the dignity of truth! You'll be defending the next generation against the crawling viper of greed! I'd like to be there! I'd like to see the flash in your eyes; even now you cannot think of it without fire in your look! I see the anger of righteousness; I cannot too deeply express my respect, Rebecca!

REBECCA.

Do you think I don't know what you mean? You think I want to marry you--to get you away from this vile creature--this unthinkable person who----

_Enter ROSA._

RAFAEL.

Will you be so good as to say no more about Rosa! If a man--[_He checks himself._] Let me tell you what she is to me----

ROSA.

Rafael, Rafael!

REBECCA.

Oh! She calls you Rafael! She was listening all the time! What they say is true: you thrust your shameful doings in my face! I shall tell my father--I shall tell everyone; they will stone you from the Ghetto! You tried to make a fool of me; and you--you----

[_She bursts into tears. Exit._

RAFAEL.

And now I'm going to break my poor old father's heart. I am going to tell him that you and I were married by the Civil Authority beyond the Ghetto, that we are one and indivisible. Poor old man! I am not without love for my father, you know. He will think that I am lost for ever; he will turn me away from his door with a curse on his lips; and then, when we are gone, he'll sink down in his chair and weep; a broken life, an old age come to nothing! And he may die at any moment--it may kill him--and he _might_ have died and never have known it.

ROSA.

Rafael, I can't be the cause of his death! Don't tell him, Rafael! I will try to live on--as we are.

RAFAEL.

Live on as we are, with this doubt in your heart? You have said I dared not face poverty for your sake. Such a doubt must be killed at any cost. I won't have it coming back to you to mar your faith in me in after years. No; there's no question of my not telling him; there's only the question of how to tell him.

ROSA.

Rafael, I would rather you wouldn't! I have been selfish; I forgot about your father; I forgot about your music.

RAFAEL.

My father will probably speak first of Rebecca. I shall say: "No, father, I will marry no woman I do not love." Then that will be settled; my father will let the matter drop. Then I shall tell him about you. Either he will be violent or he will ask me a few questions between his teeth, such as: "How much money have you?"

ROSA.

Nothing!

RAFAEL.

Or, "What vocation are you master of?"

ROSA.

The music--if he could only hear----!

RAFAEL.

My father is as deaf to my art as he is blind. "Are you master of an art, when it will not yield you bread?" he will say.

ROSA.

But it will yield you bread, if you will but wait, Rafael!

RAFAEL.

I was very happy when I came through that door. I saw Hanakoff this morning. He is going to play my Fantasia to-night, Rosa, before the aristocracy; he is going to let me lead his orchestra! And in a month he would have played my Symphony!

ROSA.

Would have! Why not, then?

RAFAEL.

Why not? It won't be possible, Rosa.

ROSA.

It must be possible! Why not? Why not?

RAFAEL.

Well, because the Symphony isn't finished, and in the time when I thought to finish it I shall be working with my hands to keep us from starving--if a man can keep from starving by working with his hands!

ROSA.

Rafael, you shall not tell your father! You shall not sacrifice your career to me. I wounded you too deeply. I didn't mean what I said--I didn't realise what I was doing. See, dear, we must wait for the Symphony. You must go on with your work--you must have peace--you must know that I love you--that I cannot doubt you! Don't you feel that the music will succeed?

RAFAEL.

It must succeed! It's beautiful. My G.o.d, I know it's beautiful!

Because it is you, Rosa, s.h.i.+ning through my art, lifting up my spirit till I can't call the work mine. It comes from you and from G.o.d!

ROSA.

Then, against my will, will you put me between G.o.d and the message he sends to the world through you? No!

RAFAEL.