The feeling that the house in inhabited is more acute here, when looked from near: dark windows, dark glass door, and even untouched snow on the entrance stairs. Cathy climbs the short staircase, crosses the verandah and knocks heavily in the door. No reply from inside. She knocks again. She waits. Finally, a weak unsteady moving light appears behind the door glass, apparently a candle light. The door opens slowly and here is Mister Joseph standing in the doorframe.
Mister Joseph is a rather short stout old man, 75 years old, moustache; he wears an old fashioned suit, waistcoat, cloth overcoat, all these clothes were once black; worn boots; worn knitted gloves; his fingers can be seen through the holes in his gloves. He holds a candle.
Mister Joseph can be sometimes sweet, but now he is very downcast.
WHO IS ACTUALLY MISTER JOSEPH? HE IS CATHY'S GRANDFATHER. BUT IS HE REALLY THAT? PERHAPS HE IS, PERHAPS HE IS NOT. THE AUDIENCE SHOULD NEVER BE SURE.
THE DIALOGUE BETWEEN MISTER JOSEPH AND CATHY THROUGHOUT THE WHOLE VOYAGE WHICH FOLLOWS IS A GAME. SOMETIMES LESS, SOMETIMES MORE, BUT ALWAYS BASICALLY A GAME. THEY PRETEND TO BE A FORMER MERCHANT AND A FORMER CUSTOMER.
Cathy is now extremely joyful, in a striking contrast with her gloomy mood when she was in the kitchen.
CATHY
Are you at home, Mister Joseph? How nice! I didn't see any footprints in the snow on the steps, and I thought you were out.
MISTER JOSEPH
It's a shame, dear young lady! Look at the way I have to light my house in this city of oil. — I mean, which was once a city of oil. Yes, miss, I have to use a candle! A beeswax one! God bless the bees! With their all summer long labor, they made up for a certain extent for those people from the Gas and Electricity Company, those heartless people who rushed to cut off the power in my house, to me, a man a little bit aged, so to speak, and in addition just arrived to this... I can hardly say "beautiful" city... broke, as you could easily guess, after spending my last money to buy this little house, rather poor, it's true, but the closest one to your house, dear young lady.
CATHY
Did they cut off your power, Mister Joseph? But why?
MISTER JOSEPH
We better drop this subject, missy. Anyway I'm unhappy enough. Come in quickly and let me shut the door. Because they did cut not only the power but the gas, too. So, for more than twenty-four hours I'm living in a huge refrigerator. As you can see, I'm compelled to stay with my overcoat on. — In my own house!
Cathy and Mister Joseph come in. In the faint light of the candle we can see the poor interior of the house. From the entrance hall they pass to the only room, where the only furniture consists is a table, a bed and a cupboard. Cathy's eyes cast upon a framed old picture hung on the wall, rather large, sepia color.
CATHY
Mister Joseph, will you bring closer that light?
MISTER JOSEPH
(approaching)
I'm glad you have an observant turn of mind, dear young lady.
As he walks close holding the candle we can see a photograph showing a corner of an old town (looking like a British one, late 19th or maybe early 20th century), at the crossing of two descending streets: a brewery from the old times, four tables set in front of it on the sidewalk, each table with its parasol. Above the door, a painted board reads BOROWITZ'S BREWERY. Some men wearing suits in that old time's style, sit at tables gazing solemnly straight into the camera's object lens.
MISTER JOSEPH
I know you will appreciate this old photograph though you are so young. Borowitz's brewery. — Who didn't hear of it? Please believe me that you, as my former customer, are the first to see this. Look at their hats! Nobody wears today such hats any more. I said nobody wears such hats? It's much more than that. Nobody, today, can even sit the way you can see these men sitting there! Behold their distinction! Look how long and twisted their moustaches are at the ends! In the Francis Joseph's style!
CATHY
But what are they drinking there?
MISTER JOSEPH
What can one drink at a brewery?
CATHY
(uncertain)
Beer?
MISTER JOSEPH
I expected of you more insight! Of course they are drinking beer! What else on earth can you drink at a brewery?
CATHY
What a coincidence! I just offered to fetch a bottle of beer...
MISTER JOSEPH
(interrupting her, disapprovingly)
A bottle of beer? Are you kidding? In my situation, now, you can be sure, dear young lady, that if I drank a beer, I would instantly turn into a piece of ice!
CATHY
You misunderstood me. The beer wasn't for you.
MISTER JOSEPH
(in a grouchy tone)
Naturally! I would have been surprised to hear a kind gesture from you! And who was the bottle of beer meant for?
CATHY
I offered to fetch it for my father.
MISTER JOSEPH
(suddenly distant, in a professional tone)
In that case, dear young lady, you have come to the wrong man. I do not sell beer. And, if you really want to know, I have never dealt in alcoholic drinks.
CATHY
I know, Mister Joseph. I remember all the products in your shop. And I also know that Mister Stanley, your brother, bought the beer elsewhere that he used to drink on the sly down there in the storage at the basement. So, I didn't come to you to buy some beer but because I missed you.
MISTER JOSEPH
(lights all up)
That's better, missy. I knew that a devoted customer like you never forgets the merchant she has bought from so many many products of the finest quality, even if it might happen — mightn't it? — some prices being a little... steep. But you know as well as I do, that in trading not just the price matters.
CATHY
I know, Mister Joseph, it's the customer's satisfaction that matters.
MISTER JOSEPH
I'm glad, dear young lady, that in this respect we are in complete agreement. And now please tell me where do you think you could get a bottle of beer for your nice father, at this time of night when every self-respecting merchant has already closed his shop and has good time in the bosom of his family, waiting for the coming New Year, when who knows what troubles would bring him?
CATHY
(slightly irritated)
You misunderstood me, Mister Joseph. The beer is the cellar! In my house cellar!
MISTER JOSEPH
Well, that's the thing you should have begun with! You're talking nonsense while the beer is right in your cellar! (He scratches himself behind his ear.) In this case, missy, I don't understand why didn't you go straight to your cellar? Could the dark possibly scare you?
CATHY
(offended)
The dark? Me? But I took along my flashlight, Mister Joseph. Here it is.
MISTER JOSEPH
(in a professional tone)
So, dear young lady, what can I do for you? Of course, you want me to accompany you to the cellar, don't you?
CATHY
That's precisely what I was expecting.
MISTER JOSEPH
Then, let's not waste our time. Because, you know, I'm a very busy person. I have no time to waste.
CATHY
OK, Mister Joseph. Let's go.
They go out of the house. Mister Joseph locks the door.
They enter the courtyard of Cathy's house. After a few steps Mister Joseph stops and looks with astonishment at the brightly illuminated guestroom's large window.
MISTER JOSEPH
So much money is wasted for electricity in your house! I doubt your father has even made a rough estimation of the expenses.
CATHY
I don't think reading the electric meter is a problem for him.
They leave the walkway, turning to the path which follows the front of the house, then turn the corner and stop in front of the cellar door. A short staircase leads down there, beneath the ground floor. Cathy goes down to the door, pulls the bunch of keys out of the jacket's pocket, inserts the key in the padlock, and unlocks the padlock.
Mister Joseph goes down after her, while Cathy pushes the door, which open squeaks. Both of them look inside with some fear.
MISTER JOSEPH
Will you get in first?
Cathy steps cautiously inside followed even more cautiously by Mister Joseph. The staircase descends a few more steps beyond the door. Cathy reaches over to Mister Joseph, trying to help him. But Mister Joseph with great dignity refuses her aid.
MISTER JOSEPH
Please. I didn't get so old that I could get down on my own to a damn cellar!
Mister Joseph and Cathy, in front of him, reach the cellar floor.
CATHY
Will you pass me the flashlight, please?
Mister Joseph passes the flashlight to her.
The light spot slides over the gray walls covered with cobwebs and follows all kinds of dusty tubes.
MISTER JOSEPH
It's sad, dear young lady, that your nice father didn't take more pains to draw electricity down here in the cellar, though he could easily have foreseen use of such extra work.
CATHY
There's electricity here, as far back as since my great-grandfather's time, but unfortunately it doesn't work.
MISTER JOSEPH
A thing which doesn't work is as if it doesn't exist. — I would be greatly surprised if the workers of your distinguished great-grandfather's time didn't make a good piece of work. I had the chance to live a little while in those beautiful old days and I know how they worked in that time. Besides, you would have made sure yourself if you had paid more attention to the photograph I just showed you at my place. — Young people of nowadays do not pay attention to old photographs. You said you saw them sitting at tables and drinking beer. — (More and more disapprovingly.) Forgive me for speaking so bluntly, but you disappoint me, dear young lady. If it were to judge people by how much beer they drink, my brother Stanley should appear as a genius. But you know very well he's a cipher...
Mister Joseph and Cathy are now in the middle of the cellar mess. We can see in the spot of the flashlight, scattered higgledy-piggledy, dismembered pieces of furniture, planks, a baby buggy, a woven cradle basket, a tricycle, old dolls, a couple of barrels, all kinds of sticks.
MISTER JOSEPH
(speaking of his brother)
...Ah! I shouldn't have recalled him! You simply have spoiled my New Year's Eve night, which was so promising!
CATHY
(turning the flashlight spot on Mister Joseph's face)
I'm sorry, Mister Joseph.
MISTER JOSEPH
It's too late to be sorry. And please don't shine that damn flashlight in my eyes any more! — It's time you notice there're people in the world that have other jobs than drinking beer, all the more you have a convincing example right in front of...
Mister Joseph suddenly becomes alert to a sound that he seemed to hear.
MISTER JOSEPH
Wait!
They both listen attentively. Distant voices and laughing can be heard. But also — seemingly — another sound, fainter and more distant that the voices, like a heartbeat. Mister Joseph gazes scared at Cathy.
MISTER JOSEPH
You didn't hear anything?
CATHY
It's the guests, Mister Joseph. It must be an air hole somewhere in the corner up there, which opens into the room upstairs.
MISTER JOSEPH
Do me a favor: don't talk me about air holes! I seemed to hear something else.
Cathy listens attentively a few seconds. Only the guests' voices and laughter can be heard.
CATHY
No, Mister Joseph, I'm sure you are mistaken. I can't hear anything else.
MISTER JOSEPH
OK. So, where I was?
CATHY
You just said I had a convincing example in front of me.
MISTER JOSEPH
Well, dear young lady, please believe me that talking nonsense doesn't enjoy me at all. But it's you who drove me to it. If you've had been more observant of that picture, you'd have noticed some very interesting details.
CATHY
But I did notice them, Mister Joseph. I saw those moustaches in the Francis Joseph'sstyle, just as you said.
MISTER JOSEPH
Oh, give me a break with your moustaches in the Francis Joseph's style! Moustaches are not the points here! With a little goodwill, you'd have noticed the contentment in those people's eyes when they looked at the photographer! You'd have noticed the pride in their eyes! Because, dear young lady, unlike my brother, who's a cipher, they had nothing to hide! They were in the brewery after a day of labor! Not after a day of idling! That's why they looked at the photographer with contentment. It's true, one made photographs in a little different way in that time. Today, when a photographer passes by the street, you cannot even notice when he has drawn out the camera — click! — and next day you find your picture in the newspaper.
CATHY
That's what happened to you, Mister Joseph?
MISTER JOSEPH
(offended)
To me? — My picture, dear young lady, never appeared in a newspaper, mind you! I am — and I was, since I remember — an earnest man, dear young lady. — In the old days making photographs in those times was a blessed occasion of regaining one's inner peace after of day of labor. And, as I just said, they didn't skimp their work. You have to focus the flashlight up on the concrete girders...
Cathy put the light spot on the ceiling, where girders can be seen.
MISTER JOSEPH
...Right here in the cellar built by your venerable great-grandfather. If you want to see a good job done, look at those girders. A best quality piece of work! Lasting concrete! Not for a lifetime, but forever, I could say!
Mister Joseph startles on hearing a sound.
MISTER JOSEPH
But wait!
Mister Joseph stays petrified and listens. That heartbeat-like sound can now be clearly heard. Mister Joseph turns terrified to Cathy.
MISTER JOSEPH
Dear young lady, I'm afraid I'm seriously ill. Listen how loudly my heart beats! Please pick that bottle of beer up and let's get out quickly because I have to go and see a doctor.
CATHY
But it's not your heartbeat, Mister Joseph. The sound comes from elsewhere.
MISTER JOSEPH
(with a sigh of relief)
You took off a weight of my shoulders. Because, I'm not sure whether I told you, but I'm a very busy man and I couldn't afford running around to see doctors. Yet, dear young lady, I would be curious what kind of sound is that and where it comes from. It looks like it has nothing to do with the air hole, which opens into the room upstairs, as you said.
Trying to find out the source of the sound, Cathy steps over a pile of trunks, removes a barrel and stops before a heap of old pieces of furniture, which she cannot remove. She listens attentively. She points to a place beyond the heap.
CATHY
It seems to come from over there.
MISTER JOSEPH
(in a mock disinterest)
Would you like to find out by all means what the matter is?
CATHY
(in a mock disinterest, too)
Who, me? Not a little bit. I'm not interested at all.
MISTER JOSEPH
Then, dear young lady, would you please come over here and let's do our job. It's not for another reason, but I'm quite hurried, as I think I've already told you.
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