“What has that to do with it?”
A wailing chord ... was there some regret in that music? Who played it? Another girl? One with seeking eyes?
“Everything! When you’re a Jew your family works for you ... your father, your mother, sisters even ... and you study. And all the time they look at you so hungry, so impatient, demanding that you hurry, hurry, through college, through all your years. That you make money. That’s what they want. And then they’ve got their damned pride, too. You must become a professional man. A lawyer, a doctor.... God, their rotten selfishness! Always driving you, hungry, exacting....”
The other was frightened. Emmanuel knew that and he grinned with pleasure. He was flattered. Frightened—of him. That was good! He heard the uncertain tone:
“Well, what would you like to do instead?”
Ah.... It had come! Emmanuel stopped. Under his feet a yellow patch of light, on his hair, uncovered now as he snatched off his hat, the notes of the piano rested for a moment before rushing along the street. Emmanuel could see the chords in the air, he told himself. They glowed. There were flames in them. He threw out his arms, indicating the street:
“This! This is what I’d like to do!”
His companion also had to stop. Out of bewildered gray eyes he looked at Emmanuel. He didn’t understand, of course.
“This?”
“This! You hear that music ...?” He stepped closer to the man, grabbed his lapels. “You hear it? I could do that!”