(Bowing.) I wonder why the American women always wear raincoats to piano recitals. Even when the sun is shining brightly, one sees hundreds of them. What a disagreeable smell they give to the hall. (More applause and more bows.) An American audience always smells of rubber and lilies-of-the-valley. How different in London! There an audience always smells of soap. In Paris it reminds you of sachet bags--and lingerie.
(The applause ceases and he returns to the piano.)
And now comes that verfluchte adagio.
(As he begins to play, a deathlike silence falls upon the hall.)
