THE REHEARSAL
43
self, but felt instantly almost blacked out by the dark open palm
at the end of the ape's left arm, looming over him, like a bad omen,
while his right reinforced the jungle rhythm of drums and horns.
Then it happened. Just at the figure "13" on the score. Ominous
13. The ape missed. Just at the point where it was Julie's turn to
bring in the second violins with the melody, first part, that recurred
here for the eighth time. The ape missed. He summoned the violas,
forgetting the second violins. De Foe jumped up, raised his bow to
tap the first viola player and bring him to his senses so the road
would be cleared for Julie. But he never reached him, because, as
he extended his bow, Julie lunged forward and sunk her large teeth in
the flesh of his forearm. The down on her upper lip was blood–
stained as he wrenched free. The trainer, in the first row of the
auditorium, drew his pistol and got it cocked.
"Stop it! Stop being brutes!" De Foe shouted and was amazed
at how his voice carried through this bacchanalia: these were the
first words spoken that morning by anyone, and he thought he noted
a certain humanizing effect. He reached out
his
leg and forced
Julie's foot to beat the right measure. He asserted the melody, and
the second violins joined in. Then the flutes, oboes, horns, clarinets,
and saxophones fell in line. The drums sounded rather quiet now, and
the ape, holding a part of his baton, which he had broken in con–
fused anger, in each hand, followed. in silly hula-hula motions,
turned toward the audience, like a jazz conductor.
De Foe saw it through: the second part of the melody, with
the triads, recurring for the seventh and eighth time, quite trium–
phantly now, then the first part again, climactically, and quickly
the second; but he was aware of the fact that many of the instru–
ments were defecting from his lead to join the rising jungle-drum
rhythm: the horns, the basses, and, alas, the second violins. As they
reached "18" on the score, the ape swung around again and took
over, his teeth bared, grunting, hopping, farting, and drumming on
his
chest; smashing in with infernal bangs, dissonances, barbaric little
figurations: it all sounded as if he had invented it just that minute.
Certainly the music had never before been performed with such
bravura. They were almost dead when it was over.
No one was allowed to enter the conductor's dressing room-not
even, or especially not, De Foe. The trainer told him he would get his
