t understand! You, the Spirit of the Settlement!
[_He rises and crosses to her and leans over the table, facing
her._]
Not understand that America is God's Crucible, the great Melting-Pot
where all the races of Europe are melting and re-forming! Here you
stand, good folk, think I, when I see them at Ellis Island, here you
stand
[_Graphically illustrating it on the table_]
in your fifty groups, with your fifty languages and histories, and your
fifty blood hatreds and rivalries. But you won't be long like that,
brothers, for these are the fires of God you've come to--these are the
fires of God. A fig for your feuds and vendettas! Germans and Frenchmen,
Irishmen and Englishmen, Jews and Russians--into the Crucible with you
all! God is making the American.

MENDEL
I should have thought the American was made already--eighty millions of
him.

DAVID
Eighty millions!
[_He smiles toward VERA in good-humoured derision._]
Eighty millions! Over a continent! Why, that cockleshell of a Britain
has forty millions! No, uncle, the real American has not yet arrived. He
is only in the Crucible, I tell you--he will be the fusion of all races,
perhaps the coming superman. Ah, what a glorious Finale for my
symphony--if I can only write it.

VERA
But you have written some of it already! May I not see it?

DAVID [_Relapsing into boyish shyness_]
No, if you please, don't ask----
[_He moves over to his desk and nervously shuts it down and turns
the keys of drawers as though protecting his MS._]

VERA
Won't you give a bit of it at our Concert?

DAVID
Oh, it needs an orchestra.

VERA
But you at the violin and I at the piano----

MENDEL
You didn't tell me you played, Miss Revendal!

VERA
I told you less commonplace things.

DAVID
Miss Revendal plays quite like a professional.

VERA [_Smiling_]
I don't feel so complimented as you expect. You see I did have a
professional training.

MENDEL [_Smiling_]
And I thought you came to _me_ for lessons!
[_DAVID laughs._]

VERA [_Smiling_]
No, I went to Petersburg----

DAVID [_Dazed_]
To Petersburg----?

VERA [_Smiling_]
Naturally. To the Conservatoire. There wasn't much music to be had at
Kishineff, a town where----

DAVID
Kishineff!
[_He begins to tremble._]

VERA [_Still smiling_]
My birthplace.

MENDEL [_Coming toward him, protectingly_]
Calm yourself, David.

DAVID
Yes, yes--so you are a Russian!
[_He shudders viol