Is that your drum? Tell me, do you seriously believe that this is a drum? Have you ever seen another drum with a hole big enough for a dog to crawl through?
KHESSIN.
Don't get excited, Leibke. You are a very talented man, and your music will be fine, and David Leizer will be greatly moved by it.
VIOLINIST.
But I can't bear it. You are a very honorable man, Abraham Khessin, you have lived long in the world, but have you ever seen such a big hole in a drum?
KHESSIN.
No, Leibke, I haven't seen such a big hole, but that is not at all important. David Leizer was a multimillionaire, he had twenty million roubles, but he is unspoiled and humble, and your love will afford him joy. Does the soul need a drum to be able to express its love? I see here people who have neither drums nor trumpets, and who weep for happiness—their tears are noiseless like the dew.—Rise higher, Leibke, rise a little higher to the sky, and you will not hear any drums there, but therefore you will hear the tears falling.
OLD MAN.
You mustn't quarrel and darken the days of bright happiness,—that would be disagreeable to David.
A Wanderer is listening to their conversation; his face is stern and swarthy. His hair and his clothes are covered with dust. He is guarded in his movements, but his eyes, lustreless, stare ahead fixedly, like open windows at night.