Complete Works of F. Scott Fitzgerald UK (Illustrated)

by F. Scott Fitzgerald

  Pat (mock serious): All rolling around, I suppose. Did you stay there long?

  Bobby: Oh yes — years. Mostly in Rio de Jan —

  Pat (interrupting): I know — and Buenos Aires. I mean, did you go up the Amazon?

  Bobby: There weren’t any Amazons. There was mostly coffee —

  Pat: And monkeys.

  Bobby (fascinated with himself): Yes. Monkeys and coffee. A big harbor and the cities white and high above it, and crocodiles and jaguars and orchids growing in the darkness — (he stops, suddenly ashamed of his romantics. The radio is playing) That’s a new American tune… it’s called “I Can’t Give You Anything But Love, Baby.”

  Pat: It’s sort of sad. Tell me more about South America.

  Bobby: Well —

  (he takes out Koster’s picture of the Senorita which he has purloined from the frame in the garage, and hands it across the table; then suddenly he looks up to see Koster and Lenz standing beside them.)

  Koster: I’d like to hear about South America, too.

  Lenz: At last we know where he is every evening. Hello, Pat.

  Koster: Has Bobby told you how he took us with him to South America?

  Bobby (very flustered): No, I —

  Koster (seeing the picture): Great Snakes! A live Senorita! What do you think of her, Gottfried?

  Lenz (examining it): Not bad — her chassis is sprung. Is this the one who sued you for breach of promise, Bobby?

  Bobby: Now look here —

  Koster: No, that’s the one he married. Does she know you’re out tonight, Bobby?

  Pat, amused, looks fondly at Bobby. Alfons comes up.

  Alfons: A round of cocktails on the house — The Three Comrades — always together.

  Pat: I’m afraid I’m — extra.

  Koster: No, you’re not. We welcome you. One and all, we approve of you.

  Alfons: And what will you have in honor of this? Some pork chops?

  Pat: Divine.

  Alfons: Waiter, the chops! (to the group) A wonderful pig — took two firsts.

  The waiter sets down a tray of drinks and shows a dish of raw chops.

  Koster (gloating): Very promising.

  Alfons (raising his glass): Pros’t! To the new recruit — now an old soldier.

  Smiling, Pat drinks with the Three Comrades.

  DISSOLVE TO:

  81 INTERIOR ALFONS’ CAFE

  — several hours later. Alfons is closing up. Pat and the Three Comrades are moving toward the door. False dawn has come up outside, making a blue oblong of the door; through which we see a procession of horse-drawn wagons and dog carts passing. The drivers are chanting a folk song:

  “In Einem Kuhlen Grunde”

  Bobby, Lenz and Pat: Goodnight, Alfons.

  Koster: Good morning, rather. Those are the carts coming into market.

  Lenz: Come on — we’ll go to the market and buy all the flowers inthe world.

  They run for the nearest wagon, one simply overflowing with piles of cut flowers. Koster and Lenz swing themselves up front with a good-natured peasant.

  Koster: Ten marks for a ride in your caravan.

  Bobby and Pat get in the rear of the wagon and lie back luxuriantly against the flowers. The tail-board is just high enough to hide them. Lenz, in front, throws a handful of flowers, which arches over the high heap and falls on them.

  Bobby: You don’t really love me, do you?

  Pat (shaking her head): No. Do you love me?

  Bobby: No. Lucky, isn’t it?

  Pat: Very.

  Bobby: Then nothing can hurt us.

  Pat: Nothing.

  Bobby: (puts his arm around her with a passion that belies his words): But you’d better not get lost in here, because I’d never be able to pick you out from the other flowers.

  His arm around her — she lies closely to him.

  Pat: I’m not this kind of flower. I’m afraid the hothouse variety. (she picks up a blossom and addresses it rather sadly) I’d love to be like you, my dear.

  Bobby (holding her close to him; passionately): Oh you are — you are!

  They lean far back into the flowers as the song rises to a climax and stops. Then silence, broken only by the sound of the horse’s hoofs through the half-darkness.

  FADE OUT ON “ACT ONE”

  (About the first third of the story)

  82 FADE IN ON:

  AN EXECUTIVE’S OFFICE —

  — modern but not lavish. A map of the city is spread on the desk, and Herr Breuer is marking off with a crayon a district as big as several wards. Beside him stands a tough, brutal looking young man in semi-military garb.

  Breuer: — From now on, then, I will be the unofficial mayor of this district. Is that clear?

  The Lieutenant: Yes, mein Herr.

  Breuer: Anything of importance must be brought immediately to my attention.

  The Lieutenant: I understand, mein Herr. From now on the district will be run from this office — by and for our organization.

  Breuer: And for Germany.

  The Lieutenant (carelessly): Oh yes, and for Germany.

  A secretary appears in the doorway.

  The Secretary: I have Fraulein Hollmann on the phone, Herr Breuer.

  The Lieutenant salutes and departs. Breuer picks up his phone.

  Breuer: Hello, Pat. You’ve been hard to find this week… No, you can explain later…

  (he stops smiling) Can I see you tonight?… Then I shall be at the opera myself. Afterwards you and your friend will be my guests for supper.

  (he hangs up, frowning)

  CUT TO:

  83 BREUER’S FACE

  — above a white tie he is adjusting in the mirror. A butler is snapping a buckle on his smooth vest.

  CUT TO:

  84 A LARGE SAFETY PIN —

  — on a very gaping vest. This is upon Bobby who is in his room, being valeted by Koster and Lenz. There are open suitcases of clothes on the floor.

  Lenz: No — we need that safety pin to keep his tie down at the back.

  Koster: I know a way to do that with string.

  (he finished pinning the vest and begins on the string)

  Bobby: Won’t it show?

  Lenz: Not as long as you don’t take your coat off. That’s a point I forgot to tell you. Always keep your coat on in the opera — no matter how you hate the tenor.

  (he helps Bobby into his own dress coat, but it is too big)

  Koster: Give us the coat.

  Lenz: Awful! Try mine. (Lenz’s coat is tight but passable) Like a glove.

  Bobby: It’s tight under my arms. Can’t reach my pockets.

  Koster: That’ll save you a lot of money.

  Lenz: It’s fine. In that crowd, you won’t show.

  Bobby (nervously): I wish you were coming.

  Lenz: There’s just enough clothes for one complete swell. Money?

  (he hands some banknotes to Bobby)

  Bobby: I’ve got enough. (he pushes the money away) We may not have a good month so soon again.

  Koster (fiercely): I am your superior officer. Anyhow, we’re going to race Heinrich next week and make a fortune. (he thrusts the money into Bobby’s pocket and speaks seriously) It’s quite right what you’re doing, Bobby.

  Bobby (pretended indifference): I can’t figure her out exactly — how she stands with — Herr Breuer.

  Koster: Does it worry you?

  Bobby (lying): Not a bit.

  Koster: It shouldn’t. And I envy you.

  Bobby: Why?

  Koster: Because nothing else is worth a dime. (picking up an opera hat) And this tops you off. (he tries it) The thing won’t open. Got a tire wrench?

  Lenz: Bang it on something.

  Koster tries that — on the electric light, which explodes. But not the hat.

  Koster: Never mind, Bobby. Carry it for the effect. It’ll open when it sees the other little hats.

  (Bobby takes a last look and turns toward the door)

  L
enz: And don’t forget to —

  Koster: Let him alone. You’ve given him enough advice to last a year.

  Bobby winks at them and as a hand organ outside strikes up an old army song, “The Three Lilies,” he goes out at a waiter’s trot, carrying the opera hat like a tray on his fingers.

  Lenz: Do you think it’s wise?

  Koster: Yes. It makes me happy that one of us at least has found —

  (he hesitates)

  Lenz: Found what?

  Koster: A window — to look back into the past, into what might have been.

  Lenz: You need a drink. Bobby among the rich. I don’t quite like it.

  Koster: Pat’s not rich.

  Lenz: She is in her heart. I couldn’t go to the opera while there are shootings in the street every night. That’s the sound in my ears.

  Koster: Then for God’s sake, let Bobby have his moment of happiness.

  DISSOLVE TO:

  85 INTERIOR.

  A NEW, SNAPPY-TAXI CAB

  — SHOOTING FROM the driver’s seat at Pat, occupying the backseat alone. She wears a magnificent evening dress of silver brocade and sits pictorially with her arms stretched out to either side of the cab. Bobby is on the little seat with his knee visible and the unopened hat upon it.

  Pat: Silly. Come back here.

  Bobby: Of course I won’t. I might rumple you. You look like a silver torch in this light.

  Pat: That’s what clothes are for.

  Bobby: You need a richer man to match it.

  Pat: The rich men I know are pretty awful, Bobby.

  Bobby: If you say that often enough, I may got interested.

  The hat on his knee suddenly opens with a “Pop!” As Pat laughs, we —

  CUT TO:

  86 TWO HANDS IN THE DARKNESS —

  — lying along the arm of a theatre seat. SHOOTING FROM BEHIND, through the interval between the seats, we see them touch and then rise together, back to back. The fingers intertwine and lock.

  The curtain of the stage in front of them comes down to end an act of Tales From Hoffman. The music dies away, but the lights have not yet come on. Behind a voice whispers:

  The Usher (off scene): Let me see your ticket stubs, please.

  Wonderingly, Bobby fumbles for them as the usher repeats the request to the pair at the end of the aisle — a plain German grocer and his fat wife.

  Usher: Thank you. I’m sorry, but these seats were sold by mistake. They are reserved for special customers.

  The Grocer: What’s that now?

  Usher: The management requires these seats. You will get your money back at the door.

  THE CAMERA PANS to a party of four waiting impatiently in the aisle.

  CUT TO:

  87 ROW OF SEATS

  Bobby (angrily): I won’t move from here.

  The Grocer: (amid general turning of heads and murmurs of protest): This is an outrage!

  The lights go on, showing that one of the party in the aisle is Breuer — very arrogant and unconcerned. The other man is a baldheaded oldster. With them are two richly dressed women.

  Breuer (to the usher): Hurry them, please. (suddenly he sees Pat and Bobby. Surprised, he changes his tone) Not those two there — they are friends of ours. These.

  (he indicates two in front)

  The Usher (to the two in front): Let me see your stubs, please.

  CUT TO:

  88 THE GERMAN GROCER AND HIS WIFE —

  — going angrily up the aisle. Following them is another couple, an insignificant man and woman, humiliated and weepy.

  The Grocer: Politics — that’s it. New bullies in power.

  CUT TO:

  89 BREUER’S PARTY —

  — seating themselves. Breuer leans across Bobby, who is frowning disgustedly, and speaks to Pat.

  Breuer: I’m sorry you were accidently disturbed. We’ll meet after the performance.

  DISSOLVE TO:

  90 THE EXTERIOR OF THE THEATRE —

  — after the performance. There is a marked contrast between the wealthy opera patrons and the poverty-stricken crowd. Breuer’s party is walking haughtily to the curb. Pat turns back to speak to Bobby, who has fallen a little behind.

  Pat (with sympathy): You’re sad, darling.

  Bobby: It was such fun — till he came.

  Pat: He’s just an old friend.

  Bobby: That makes it worse.

  Pat (gently): Don’t be silly.

  Breuer (turning around): I’m taking you to a new night club — that will especially interest Pat.

  Unwillingly, Bobby gives in as we —

  DISSOLVE TO:

  91 A NEON SIGN: “TRIANON”

  PAN DOWN TO a doorway in what looks like an elaborate private house. Breuer’s party is getting out of the limousine.

  They stop as Breuer points with his cane to a coat of arms above the doorway. Pat gives a little cry.

  Pat: It’s our old house. (shocked) A night club!

  Breuer: And a great success, I’m told.

  Pat recovers from her moment of shock and laughs.

  Pat: I suppose I should be proud of that.

  CUT TO:

  92 THE INTERIOR OF AN INTIMATE NIGHT-CLUB —

  — Cossack music — rhumbas and tangos rather than jazz — and a distinguished-looking clientele.

  The party sits down — Pat next to Breuer, Bobby between the two other women, thirtyish, rich, and bejeweled, not quite “out of the top drawer.” The waiter takes the order.

  Breuer (looking at the menu): Champagne first? This Pol Roget, 1922?

  (he looks around inquiringly)

  Bobby: Some mineral water for me.

  Pat (clapping her hands): Bravo, Bobby.

  At her evident interest in Bobby, Breuer’s face tightens a little.

  Breuer (in a chilly voice): And Appolonaris for — one.

  Pat (looks around and shivers slightly): This was the reception room. How often I’ve leaned over those stairs and watched the dancing down below. (ironically) And now at last I can dance here myself.

  Breuer: Will you?

  They dance off, Bobby’s eyes following. Frau Schmidt, the woman at Bobby’s side looks him over lasciviously, wetting her lips.

  Frau Schmidt: Are you an old friend of Erich Breuer’s?

  Bobby: Scarcely.

  Frau Schmidt: He’s become a man of influence. You saw how quickly he got seats in the theatre.

  Bobby (ironically): Yes.

  The waiter draws a champagne cork.

  Frau Schmidt: He’s very fond of Fraulein Hollman. And it’s a lucky thing for her. (acidly) These fallen aristocrats. (but rather impressed) To think she used to live here!

  93 OUT ON THE FLOOR —

  — Pat’s cheek touches Breuer’s. His arm tightens around the silver dress. He talks in a low, confident voice — sometimes she looks up at him and laughs.

  94 BOBBY —

  — suddenly holds his glass out to the waiter pouring champagne.

  Bobby: Include me.

  95 FROM THE DANCE FLOOR — PAT —

  — looks at Bobby. She smiles encouragingly. For answer —

  96 BOBBY —

  — raises the champagne glass to her gravely.

  97 PAT —

  — opens her eyes as if saying, “Ahhh!” She and Breuer stop dancing and come back to the table.

  Pat says her old house makes her dizzy. We’ll drink and move on.

  As they sit down —

  DISSOLVE TO:

  98 ANOTHER NIGHT CLUB —

  — brighter and noisier. Breuer’s party is gathered about a tank of live, swimming trout. A waiter brandishes a fish net.

  Breuer: That fat one.

  The net goes in, the fish is captured.