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Genius it should be the last to be sent to the slaughter-pen. Leon darlink don't go!" "Ma, ma you don't mean what you're saying. You wouldn't want me to reason that way! You wouldn't want me to hide behind my violin." "I would! Would! You should wait for the draft. With my Roody and even my baby Boris enlisted, ain't it enough for one mother?
"My boy my wonder-boy!" "There goes the overture, ma." "Here, darlink your glass of water." "I can't stand it in here; I'm suffocating!" "Got your mute in your pocket, son?" "Yes, ma; for God's sake, yes! Yes! Don't keep asking things." "Ain't you ashamed, Leon, to be in such an excitement? For every concert you get worse." "The chairs they'll breathe on my neck."
So black and so bristly of head, his little clawlike hands hovering over the bow, Leon Kantor withdrew a note, strangely round and given up almost sobbingly from the single string. A note of warm twining quality, like a baby's finger. "Leon darlink!"
Such a beautiful mezzo, they say, engaged already for Metropolitan next season." "I hate it, ma, if they breathe on my neck." "Leon darlink, did mamma promise to fix it? Have I ever let you plan a concert where you wouldn't be comfortable?" His long, slim hands suddenly prehensile and cutting a long, upward gesture, Leon Kantor rose to his feet, face whitening. "Do it now! Now, I tell you!
Listen how they're shouting it's for you Leon darlink go!" In the center of that vast human bowl which had finally shouted itself out, slim, boylike, and in his supreme isolation, Leon Kantor drew bow and a first thin, pellucid, and perfect note into a silence breathless to receive it.
"Six thousand dollars in the house to-night, if there was a cent," said Isadore Kantor. "Hand me my violin, please, Esther. I must have scratched it, the way they pushed." "No, son, you didn't. I've already rubbed it up. Sit quiet, darlink!" He was limply white, as if the vitality had flowed out of him. "God! wasn't it tremendous?" "Six thousand, if there was a cent," repeated Isadore Kantor.
Not even that time in Milan, darlink, when they broke down the doors, was it like to-night " "Ought to seen, ma, the row of police outside " "Hush up, Roody! Don't you see your brother is trying to get his breath?" From Mrs. Isadore Kantor: "You should have seen the balconies, mother. Isadore and I went up just to see the jam."
There he is, in the wings. See that the piano ain't dragged down too far! Leon, got your mute in your pocket? Please, Mr. Ginsberg you must excuse Here, Leon, is your glass of water; drink it, I say. Shut that door out there, boy, so there ain't a draught in the wings. Here, Leon, your violin. Got your neckerchief? Listen how they're shouting! It's for you Leon darlink Go!"
Not even that time in Milan, darlink when they broke down the doors, was it like to-night " "Ought to seen, ma, the row of police outside " "Hush up, Roody! Don't you see your brother is trying to get his breath?" From Mrs. Isadore Kantor: "You ought to seen the balconies, mother. Isadore and I went up just to see the jam."
Why, darlink, mamma'll sell her clothes off her back to get you a violin. He's a musician, Abrahm! I should have known it the way he's fooling always around the chimes and the bells in the store!" Then Mrs. Kantor took to rocking his head between her palms. "Oi oi! The mother is crazier as her son. A moosican! A Fresser you mean.
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