Mister Joseph stops to try a door handle in a quite assured manner. The door being locked does not upset him at all: Mister Joseph continues his way as if nothing happened.
MISTER JOSEPH
...And you and I, dear missy, this is quite between ourselves, look exactly as if we just got down from a truck after unloading a coal carload or a tanker of oil. So, what does it take for you to get in through this rather obscure door which they use for providing the hotel with coal? I hope you have nothing against this.
CATHY
I have nothing against it.
Mister Joseph suddenly stops and opens a door of a room that proves to be a lumber box.
MISTER JOSEPH
That's not here...
Mister Joseph presses the handle of the next door.
MISTER JOSEPH
And here...
This door opens to a kind of large works room, the floor of which is much below the corridor floor, so they see from above a huge central heating installation consisting of a lot of boilers under which fuel injectors make a deafening noise.
MISTER JOSEPH
...Here is not for us, that's for certain.
Mister Joseph begins to show signs of indecision; he's about to close the door but in the next moment he changes his mind.
MISTER JOSEPH
...Nonetheless, dear young lady...
Mister Joseph gets in the works room, Cathy follows him closely and they both find themselves on a platform just under the room ceiling, from where a long iron staircase with two landings leads down to the floor.
MISTER JOSEPH
...Although I cannot see anywhere my friend the hotelkeeper's office, let me get clear.
He begins to go down the staircase.
MISTER JOSEPH
As I can remember, there was a door supposed to be around here.
CATHY
(who couldn't hear him because of the noise)
What did you say, Mister Joseph?
Mister Joseph reaches the floor of the room and takes the aisle between two ranges of boilers, having the appearance he is looking for something. He stops near a wooden little table where a pair of spectacles have been left on the register. Mister Joseph puts the spectacles on and leans over the register.
CATHY
What are you looking for, Mister Joseph?
A MAN'S HARSH VOICE
What are you looking for, mister?
Mister Joseph, caught in the very act, violently starts.
A worker in black coveralls, rather aged, frowns at him, his arms on his hips. The worker has a long twisted moustache. Cathy taps Mister Joseph on the arm trying insistently to draw his attention. Mister Joseph turns angrily to her.
MISTER JOSEPH
Yes, missy! This is also a moustache in the Francis Joseph's style! (He turns with a wide smile to the worker in the black coveralls.) I was looking for a door, mister.
THE WORKER IN BLACK COVERALLS
(hostilely)
You didn't seem to be doing that! You were looking into my register! Moreover, you still have my spectacles on!
MISTER JOSEPH
(ingenuously, trying to minimize the fact)
Oh, the spectacles! (He nonchalantly takes them off.) I just wanted to see whether they suit me. Because, you know, I forgot to take mine along.
THE WORKER IN BLACK COVERALLS
And what would have happened if they have suited you? Did you intend to steal them?
MISTER JOSEPH
(in an exaggerated indignation)
Who, me? (He makes a try to laugh.) How can you believe such nonsense? If you really want to know, I don't use spectacles yet!
THE WORKER IN BLACK COVERALLS
(sarcastically)
Yet! (He heartily laughs; but abruptly comes back to the previous menacing tone.) Then what did you say you forgot to take along?
MISTER JOSEPH
(embarrassed, faking not to have heard him because of the noise)
I beg your pardon?
THE WORKER IN BLACK COVERALLS
(louder)
You said you forgot to take yours along. What did you forget to take along if you don't use spectacles yet?
MISTER JOSEPH
(pretending he is still deaf)
I can't hear you!
Keeping his eyes on Mister Joseph's face, The Worker in Black Coveralls bents and abruptly turns a lever. Then the injectors suddenly stop working, and a blank silence settles.
THE WORKER IN BLACK COVERALLS
In short, mister, I'm a stoker here! Who are you? Listen, if you came here for the fuel delivery, we don't need any more!
MISTER JOSEPH
(magnificently)
I'm a merchant, mister, that's true. Or rather I was, if that matters to you. But I never dealt in fuel, mind you! I simply came with this lovely young lady to accommodate in the apartment which looks into the central alley, that I have no doubt my friend the hotelkeeper has kept for me. But this doesn't mean I don't appreciate your profession, which I find the most interesting in the world. Except that of merchant, of course. Once, I would have done anything to get a job of stoker, even on the greatest steamship liner in the world, when, long time ago, in my youth, I crossed one day the Atlantic.
THE STOKER (THE WORKER IN BLACK COVERALLS)
(sarcastically)
One day? What a damn day should have been that day!
MISTER JOSEPH
(turns to Cathy, embarrassed)
What does this gentleman mean?
Cathy talks to Mister Joseph in a guilty tone because she wants to avoid contradicting him, but at the same time she cannot deny the reality.
CATHY
I'm afraid, Mister Joseph, the Atlantic has some four thousand miles in width.
MISTER JOSEPH
So what?
CATHY
It wouldn't be pretty much. — But, you know... Four thousand miles...
Murmuring for herself, Cathy makes a fast calculation, her eyes raised to the ceiling, in a school-like manner.
CATHY
...Divided by 24 hours... So, 24 goes in 40 one time... 24 subtracted from 40 makes 16... We bring down a zero... that makes 160... 24 goes in 160... um... 6 times. We bring down a zero, that makes 160 again... That means, Mister Joseph, your ship would have had to travel at a speed of roughly 166 miles an hour.
She guiltily leans her head.
THE STOKER
Hurricane! (Maliciously guffaws.) Hurricane!
MISTER JOSEPH
(looking reproachfully to Cathy)
Nice of you, missy, what could I say! Frankly, I didn't expect that for your part!
CATHY
If only it would depend on me, Mister Joseph! But what can I do when the Atlantic is so wide?
MISTER JOSEPH
(resignedly sighs)
OK, missy, I accept your excuses. But it's for the last time, I mean it.
He turns to The Stoker and hands him the spectacles back; dreamfully.
MISTER JOSEPH
I felt so good on the deck, that I simply didn't notice how time flew away! Maybe it lasted a couple of days, I don't know...
The Stoker seems to accept Mister Joseph's explanation.
Cathy takes him by the hand and they both head for the door — the one facing the door they had come in through, this time at the floor level. The fire (and together with it the uproar) bursts again as abruptly as it had stopped. Mister Joseph starts.
MISTER JOSEPH
Did you say anything, missy?
CATHY
I didn't say anything, Mister Joseph.
Cathy friendly smiles to him.
A side door opens behind a curtain to the main hall of the PARADISE hotel. Mister Joseph and Cathy after him steal in from behind the curtain, and stay breathless on seeing the magnificence of the hall: red marble floor, crystal chandeliers, furniture pieces in the Art Nouveau style, ornamental plants, velvet curtains at the high windows, an impressive wide staircase of white marble leading upstairs, a basin in the center of the hall with an artesian well bubbling. Distinguished people, gentlemen and ladies talking to one another, reading newspapers, puffing cigars.
Mister Joseph tries to make some steps but the floor is so slippery that he hardly can stand; scared, he presses his hand against his heart, then he fingers his pockets in search of his soothing pills. Cathy rushes to prop him.
MISTER JOSEPH
Wait a minute and let me breathe. — I don't know why they needed to put so much zeal into gloss this red marble!
CATHY
I'm waiting, Mister Joseph. Take your time.
People in the hall look at them with a distant curiosity.
Mister Joseph stands still stone and tensed as he scares not to lose his balance again when moving.
MISTER JOSEPH
Do you see the reception desk anywhere?
Cathy stares as enchanted at the artesian well, and doesn't hear him.
CATHY
An artesian well! A real one!
MISTER JOSEPH
I don't care about your artesian wells! I asked you a question about the reception desk!
CATHY
You really can't move?
MISTER JOSEPH
(pretty angrily)
Yes, I can, of course I can move! But I need to know where to! So I ask you for the third time: do you see the reception desk anywhere?
CATHY
Not from where I am... (Still enchanted by the artesian well.) This is for the first time that I see such a marvel inside.
MISTER JOSEPH
Well, dear missy, there're quite a few things you're going to see for the first time.
CATHY
Wouldn't you try to make some steps?
Mister Joseph straightens his back taking a dignified look.
MISTER JOSEPH
I don't try, young lady! I do!
But he slips again just at his first step and adjust himself with Cathy's help.
MISTER JOSEPH
Damn it!
They both slowly step in search of the reception desk.
Mister Joseph stops after a time and disappointedly looks...
...At a young desk clerk sitting behind a sumptuous desk, bent over the check-in register, fussily writing in it.
MISTER JOSEPH
I'm afraid, dear young lady, that I don't know this young man. But don't worry. He seems a nice young man, though he looks so busy.
In an exaggerated self-assurance, Mister Joseph approaches the desk, where the young desk clerk continues writing. Mister Joseph clears his throat. But the desk clerk doesn't raise his eyes.
MISTER JOSEPH
(politely)
Good morning.
THE DESK CLERK
(rather sourly)
'Morning.
MISTER JOSEPH
(allusively, speaking to Cathy)
You see, missy... That's why I would have liked being a hotelkeeper, though, as I told you before, my favorite profession remains that of merchant. But a merchant, dear young lady, I mean one who keeps a pretty modest shop, as it were, is never as busy as he would like...
The Desk Clerk raises his eyes from the register; as Mister Joseph speaks, he pays ever-growing attention to Mister Joseph's speech but without passing beyond a certain level of drowsy attention.
All this time Cathy admires the crystal chandelier and the basin in the center of the hall.
Some distinguished young men, sitting around the fountain, stare condescendingly and smile at Cathy. Other hotel customers, more aged, sitting in deep armchairs, also scrutinize, rather hostilely, the two newcomers.
MISTER JOSEPH
...Particularly when he's an enterprising man, as, without speaking highly of myself, I was. Because, as long as no customer comes in his shop, the poor merchant has nothing to do but gaze. As for the desk clerk, as you see yourself, missy, things are different. The desk clerk has all the time a lot of work to do, especially when he works for a big hotel! As there always happen things at a big hotel... In the room so-and-so the client has broken the flower vase, and a maid must be sent to pick up the shards. — In other room the client wishes to get a glass of whisky because he's just preparing his speech for the election campaign and he's nervous. — Another client has asked a cabin to be booked for him on the steamship liner that is leaving for Australia. — And somewhere upstairs a pretty young woman, although seen entering her room some time ago, does not answer the telephone. It is assumed she has swallowed a handful of sleeping pills and lay down on the bed. But you, dear young lady don't need to be scared about all these. Because all I wanted to say is a desk clerk has no reason to complain about being bored. — Has he, young man?
THE DESK CLERK
(rather distant; slightly ironically)
As I can see, mister, you are well informed. Someone has not later than yesterday broken a flower vase and I had to send the maid to dry the floor and pick up the debris. As for the sleeping pills, mister, there isn't one single week passed without such a nasty incident.
MISTER JOSEPH
(proudly, disregarding his distant voice)
It's no wonder I'm well informed. I've been traveling for years. For business, of course.
The Desk Clerk runs his eyes over Mister Joseph's ragged clothes.
THE DESK CLERK
(mockingly)
And it's been a long time since you called on home?
The young gentlemen around the fountain — and not only they but also others more aged — make fun; one by one they rise from armchairs and little by little approach the check-in desk continuing to make fun as Mister Joseph and The Desk Clerk talk to each other.
MISTER JOSEPH
(to Cathy, pretty aggrieved)
I never minded where I lived. I'm sure you understand me. The best of my life was always bound rather to my shop than to my house. At home I had never bells above the door, as I had at the shop, because I didn't care who called on me at my place. Unfortunately...
Mister Joseph turns to The Desk Clerk.
MISTER JOSEPH
I couldn't brag that my business was doing very well...
THE DESK CLERK
(interrupting him, mockingly)
You must have failed in the coal trading!
Laughing can be heard around; the fun extends almost to the entire hall.
THE DESK CLERK
You probably just made your last attempt and failed. I'm so sorry!
MISTER JOSEPH
I never dealt with coal. Though I have nothing against the coal trading. As far as the great transatlantic liners use coal, too.
THE DESK CLERK
In short, Mister, I suppose you need a room with a private bathroom! Please tell me if I'm wrong!
Laughing around.
MISTER JOSEPH
(regaining little by little his self-assurance)
Hem! (He suddenly turns to Cathy.) Didn't I tell you our friend has kept for us an apartment that looks into the central alley? We would be pleased even with a rest of a few hours, wouldn't we, dear missy? For the only reason that I'm in a hurry. Even before, when I worked in trading, I very seldom had to spend a night at the hotel...
A VOICE FROM THE GROUP
(followed by laughing)
They preferred to save sheets!
MISTER JOSEPH
(carelessly)
...Because of the hurry, just as today. Of course, I never haggled prices. I mean I paid off the room for a whole day, as I ought to, even when I stayed only for a few hours. Nobody mooted the question of the money, dear young lady. Everybody knew that Mister Joseph pays off...
ANOTHER VOICE FROM THE GROUP
If not cash, then in coal!
MISTER JOSEPH
(continuing carelessly)
...Even when he happened, for haste, to set out without a nickel in his pocket. But I never lost my honor with a hotelkeeper!
ANOTHER IRONICAL VOICE
Today is for the first time!
ANOTHER VOICE
...And the last time! What a pity!
MISTER JOSEPH
I never did, dear young lady, you need to know it! When I didn't have money, I paid with money orders. And when I didn't have the checkbook with me, a simple signature in the register sufficed, and any hotelkeeper knew that my signature was a warranty...
THE DESK CLERK
Your signature, mister, was worth as much as its weight in gold. (Laughing around.)
CATHY
(to Mister Joseph, with a discreet innocence)
That means nothing?
MISTER JOSEPH
You know, dear young lady, it's by this that a hotelkeeper and a merchant resemble each other. Both of them enter in touch with plenty of people and, sooner or later they begin to follow in the cleverest of their clients' footsteps, as it were. Because, whatever they say, dear young lady, a good example works better than an evil one. When trading and hotel affairs are concerned, of course! And not only to follow in their footsteps but, on many occasions, even to exceed them, as I hope you can judge by how much fun these gentlemen are having. I could swear they are merchants. (He abruptly turns to a plump elderly man.) Am I right, mister? You are a merchant, aren't you?
THE PLUMP MAN
(still laughing)
I'm sorry, sir, you didn't hit it. I'm not a merchant.
MISTER JOSEPH
Too bad, mister. Much too bad! You were born for that profession, you can believe my word. You can laugh, which is not a trinket. Even your teeth are still in a rather good condition.
The plump man instantly stops laughing.
MISTER JOSEPH
If you have had the good idea to establish a shop, I for one would have become without any hesitation your client, though it would have been hard for me to pass on the other side of the counter, so to speak. Because, actually, as I once told this young lady, I never bought anything. I only sold!
(Speaking to other plump man, also elderly)
You are not a merchant, either? Could I possibly be mistaken this time, too? It's only now that I realize, mister. — But what can I do? As they say, as long as people live they learn! — It's only now that I realize, as I said, that it's a mistake which many people make, dear sir.
He gets through them; speaking to all of
them.
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