Tell them it’s a celebration—foaming tankards—cold meats—pickles—potato salad—plum dumplings …
MELCHIOR You’ll spoil me,
ZANGLER It’s not for you. I’m entertaining my fiancée to a birthday dinner.
MELCHIOR A previous engagement? My congratulations, Herr Zangler.
ZANGLER Thank you. She’s the Madame of Madame Knorr’s Fashion House. You may know it.
MELCHIOR No, but I think I know the piano player.
ZANGLER It’s a hat shop in Annagasse. Of course she’s a millineress in her own right.
MELCHIOR Enough said. And the shop on top.
ZANGLER No, she’s on top of the shop. What are you talking about?
MELCHIOR I don’t know.
ZANGLER I’m going to take her to dinner and name the day. You can expect me after the parade.
MELCHIOR Are we travelling together?
ZANGLER No, I can’t be in a hurry, I’m having trouble with my niece.
MELCHIOR It’s the uniform.
ZANGLER No, it’s the Casanova incarnate. Marie is very vulnerable. If she so much as sets foot outside the door she’s going to catch it from me.
MELCHIOR How long have you had it?
ZANGLER No. I mean the Don Juan.
MELCHIOR Has he had it?
ZANGLER I don’t think so. She’s in her room trying on her Scottish get-up.
MELCHIOR I’ll work it out later.
ZANGLER After all I am her uncle.
MELCHIOR I’ve worked it out.
ZANGLER I sent him packing with a flea in his ointment.
MELCHIOR I think I saw him leave.
ZANGLER Now here’s some money to catch the coach.
MELCHIOR Can’t I meet the rest of your staff?
ZANGLER There isn’t time. Do you understand my requirements?
MELCHIOR Perfectly.
ZANGLER Repeat them.
MELCHIOR Catch the coach—go straight to the Imperial Gardens Café—private dinner for two, champagne on ice …
ZANGLER No—no—no—the Black and White Chop House!
MELCHIOR Sir, I beg you to consider. Madame Knorr is a woman of the world, sophisticated, dressed to the nines with a hat to knock your eye out and an eye to knock your hat off. You want to wine her, dine her and name the day. Now does that suggest to you a foaming tankard and a plate of cold cuts in the old Black and White?
ZANGLER (slightly puzzled) Yes it does. What are you getting at?
MELCHIOR Madame Knorr is not just another hausfrau. Fashion is her middle name.
ZANGLER More or less. Knorr Fashion House. I think I see what you mean … The Imperial Gardens Café is a fashionable place, is it?
MELCHIOR It’s the only place for the quality at the moment.
ZANGLER The quality … Are you sure it is quite refined?
MELCHIOR Refined?! The ploughman’s lunch is six oysters and a créme de menthe frappé.
ZANGLER I see … well, perhaps just this once.
MELCHIOR Leave it to me, sir—champagne—lobster—roast fowl—birthday cake—
ZANGLER Pickles—dumplings—
MELCHIOR And to finish off, to get her in the mood—
ZANGLER Perhaps we should have—
MELCHIOR AND ZANGLER (together) A nice bottle of the hard stuff.
MELCHIOR (leaving) Schnapps!
Coach horn. Zangler now puts on the rest of his outfit, boots, hat, etc.
ZANGLER Well, that seems all right. Just the ticket. First class. Why do I have a sense of impending disaster? (He reflects.) Sonders is after my niece and has discovered the secret address where I am sending her to the safe keeping of my sister-in-law Miss Blumenblatt, who has never laid eyes on him, or, for that matter, on Marie either since she was a baby—while I have to leave my business in the charge of my assistant and an apprentice, and follow my new servant, whom I haven’t had time to introduce to anyone, to town to join the parade and take my fiancée to dinner in a fashionable restaurant in a uniform I can’t sit down in.
One false move and we could have a farce on our hands.
He exits.
Zangler’s shop.
The shop is closed for lunch. Weinberl occupies it like a gentleman of leisure. He is writing a letter at the counter. He has a cigar and a glass of wine. Christopher is at the door leading to the rest of the house. He is holding a broom, the Cinderella-type of broom, not a yard broom.
CHRISTOPHER He’s gone.
He joins Weinberl and is offered a glass. There is also a jar of rollmops to hand.
Ah, thank you, Mr Weinberl.
Weinberl continues to write. At Christopher’s position on the counter there is a stack of torn pages from newspapers used here for wrapping purposes. Christopher leans on the stack, reading the top page.
Aha, I thought so … cocoa is up six points.
WEINBERL (without looking up) When was that?
CHRISTOPHER (examining the top of the page) Week before last.
Weinberl signs his letter and blots it.
WEINBERL Does it ever occur to you, Christopher, that we’re the
