JAN [holding her face between his hands, and smiling]: Quite true, my dear. But come now! Look at me! I’m not in any danger, as you seem to fear. I’m carrying out my plan, and I know all will be well. You’re entrusting me for just one night to my mother and my sister; there’s nothing so alarming about that, is there?
MARIA [freeing herself]: Then—good-by! And may my love shield you from harm. [She goes to the door, and holds out her hands.] See how poor I am; they’re empty! You—you’re going forward to adventure. I can only wait.
[After a momentary hesitation she goes out. JAN sits down. MARTHA enters.]
JAN: Good afternoon. I’ve come about the room.
MARTHA: I know. It’s being made ready. But, first, I must enter you in our register.
[She goes out and comes back with the register.]
JAN: I must say, your servant is a very queer fellow.
MARTHA: This is the first time we’ve had any complaint about him. He always carries out his duties quite satisfactorily.
JAN: Oh, I wasn’t complaining. I only meant that he seemed a bit of a character. Is he dumb?
MARTHA: It’s not that.
JAN: Ah! then he does speak.
MARTHA: As little as possible and only when really necessary.
JAN: Anyhow, he doesn’t seem to hear what one says.
MARTHA: It’s not so much that he doesn’t hear; only he hears badly. Now I must ask you for your name and Christian names.
JAN: Hasek, Karl.
MARTHA: Only Karl?
JAN: Yes.
MARTHA: Date and place of birth?
JAN: I’m thirty-eight.
MARTHA: Yes, but where were you born?
JAN [after a brief hesitation]: Oh, in … in Bohemia.
MARTHA: Profession?
JAN: None.
MARTHA: One has to be very rich, or very poor, to travel, when one does no work.
JAN [smiling]: I’m not very poor and, for several reasons, I’m glad it’s so.
MARTHA [in a different tone]: You’re a Czech, I suppose?
JAN: Certainly.
MARTHA: Your usual residence?
JAN: In Bohemia.
MARTHA: Have you come from there?
JAN: No, I’ve come from the south. [She looks at him questioningly.] From across the sea.
MARTHA: Ah, yes. [A short silence.] Do you go there often?
JAN: Fairly often.
MARTHA [she seems lost in thought for some moments before continuing]: And where are you going?
JAN: I’ve not decided. It will depend on a lot of things.
MARTHA: Then do you propose to stay here?
JAN: I don’t know. It depends on what I find here.
MARTHA: That doesn’t matter. Is no one here expecting you?
JAN: No, I couldn’t say anyone’s expecting me.
MARTHA: You have your identity papers, I suppose?
JAN: Yes, I can show you them.
MARTHA: Don’t trouble. I’ve only got to write down whether you have an identity card or a passport.
JAN [producing a passport from his pocket]: I’ve a passport. Here it is. Will you have a look at it? [She takes it, but her thoughts are obviously elsewhere. She seems to be weighing it in her palm; then she hands it back.]
MARTHA: No, keep it. When you’re over there, do you live near the sea?
JAN: Yes.
[She gets up, seems about to put the book away; then, changing her mind, holds it open in front of her.]
MARTHA [with sudden harshness]: Ah, I was forgetting. Have you a family?
JAN: Well, I had one once. But I left them many years ago.
MARTHA: No, I meant, are you married?
JAN: Why do you ask that? I’ve never had the question put to me in any other hotel.
MARTHA: It’s one of the questions on the list given us by the police.
JAN: You surprise me.… Yes, I’m married. Didn’t you notice my wedding ring?
MARTHA: No, I didn’t. It’s none of my business to look at your hands; I’m here to fill in your registration form. Your wife’s address, please.
JAN: Well, she … as a matter of fact, she’s stayed behind, in her country.
MARTHA: Ah! Very good. [Closes the book.] Shall I bring you a drink now, while your room’s being made ready?
JAN: No, thanks. But, if you don’t mind, I’ll stay here. I hope I won’t be in your way.
MARTHA: Why should you be in my way? This is a public room, for the use of our customers.
JAN: Yes, but someone by himself can be more of a nuisance than a crowd of people.
MARTHA [busying herself about the room]: Why? I presume you don’t intend to waste my time with idle chatter. I’ve no use for people who come here and try to play the fool—and you should have guessed that. The people hereabouts have learned it, anyhow, and you’ll very soon see for yourself that this is a quiet inn, and you’ll have all the calm you want. Hardly anybody comes here.
JAN: That can’t be very good for business.
MARTHA: We may lose some, but we make up for it in peace, and peace is something for which you can’t pay too high a price. And don’t forget that one good customer is better than a roaring trade; so that’s what we are out for—the right kind of visitor.
JAN: But.… [He hesitates.] Isn’t your life here a bit dull at times? Don’t you and your mother find it very lonely?
MARTHA [rounding on him angrily]: I decline to answer such questions. You had no business to ask them, and you should have known it. I can see I’ll have to warn you how things stand. As a guest at this inn you have the rights and privileges of a guest, but nothing more. Still, don’t be afraid, you will have every attention you’re entitled to. You will be very well looked after and I shall be greatly surprised if you ever complain of your reception here. But I fail to see why we should go out of our way to give you special reasons for satisfaction. That’s why your questions are out of place. It has nothing to do with you whether or not we feel lonely; just as you need not trouble yourself whether you cause us inconvenience or ask too much of us. By all means stand upon your rights as a guest. But do not go beyond them.
JAN: I beg your pardon. Nothing was further from my intention than to offend you; I only wanted to show my good will. I had a feeling that perhaps we weren’t quite so remote from each other as you seem to think; no more than that.
MARTHA: I can see I must repeat what I was saying. There can be no question of offending me or not offending me. Since you seem determined to adopt an attitude that you have no right to adopt, I prefer to make things clear. I can assure you I’m not in the least vexed. Only it is in our interest, yours and mine, that we should keep our distance. If you persist in talking in a manner unbecoming a guest, there’s no alternative; we must refuse to have you here. But if you will understand, as I cannot doubt you will, that two women who let you a room in their hotel are under no obligation to treat you as a friend into the bargain, all will go smoothly.
JAN: I quite agree; and it was inexcusable, my giving you an impression that I failed to understand this.
MARTHA: Oh, there’s no great harm done. You are not the first who’s tried to take that line. But I always made it pretty clear how we felt about such matters, and that settled it.
JAN: Yes, you certainly have made it clear, and I suppose I’d better say no more—for the present.
MARTHA: Not at all. There’s nothing to prevent your talking as a guest should talk.
JAN: And how should a guest talk?
MARTHA: Most of our guests talk about all sorts of things: politics, their travels, and so forth. Never about my mother or myself—and that is as it should be. Some of them even talk about their private lives or their jobs. And that, too, is within their rights. After all, one of the services for which we’re paid is listening to our customers. But it goes without saying that the charges made for board and lodging don’t oblige hotelkeepers to answer personal questions. My mother may do so sometimes, out of indifference; but I make a principle of refusing. Once you’ve grasped this, we shall not only be on excellent terms, but you’ll discover you have many things to tell us, and that sometimes it’s quite pleasant to be listened to when one’s talking about oneself.
JAN: I’m afraid you won’t find me much good at talking about myself. But, really, that won’t be necessary. If I stay here only a short time, there will be no point in your getting to know me. And if I make a long stay, you’ll have plenty of opportunity of knowing who I am, without my speaking.
MARTHA: I hope you will not bear me any malice for what I’ve told you. There’d be no reason for it, anyhow. I’ve always found it better to be quite frank, and I had to stop your talking in a tone that was bound to lead to strained relations. Really, I’m asking nothing out of the way. Until today there was nothing in common between us, and some very special reasons would be needed for our suddenly becoming intimate. And you must forgive me if I
