"'Humoresque,'" she said, smiling back at him.
He capered through, cutting and playful of bow, the melody of Dvorák's, which is as ironic as a grinning mask.
Finished, he smiled at his parent, her face still untearful.
"How's that?"
She nodded. "It's like life, son, that piece. Crying to hide its laughing and laughing to hide its crying."
"Play that new piece, Leon—the one you set to music. You know. The words by that young boy in the war who wrote such grand poetry before he was killed. The one that always makes poor Mannie laugh. Play it for him, Leon."
Her plump little unlined face innocent of fault, Mrs. Isadore Kantor ventured her request, her smile tired with tears.
"No, no—Rosa—not now! Ma wouldn't want that!"
"I do, son; I do! Even Mannie should have his share of good-by."
To Gina Berg: "They want me to play that little arrangement of mine from
Allan Seegar's poem. 'I Have a Rendezvous….'"