The Diary of Anne Frank, Act Two
Scene 1, continued
Mr. Frank (to MR. KRALER). How was it left? What did you tell him?
Mr. Kraler. I said I had to think about it. What shall I do? Pay him the money? . . . Take a chance on firing him . . . or what? I don’t know.
Dussel (frantic). For God’s sake, don’t fire him! Pay him what he asks . . . keep him here where you can have your eye on him.
Mr. Frank. Is it so much that he’s asking? What are they paying nowadays?
Mr. Kraler. He could get it in a war plant. But this isn’t a war plant. Mind you, I don’t know if he really knows . . . or if he doesn’t know.
Mr. Frank. Offer him half. Then we’ll soon find out if it’s blackmail or not.
Dussel. And if it is? We’ve got to pay it, haven’t we? Anything he asks we’ve got to pay!
Mr. Frank. Let’s decide that when the time comes.
Mr. Kraler. This may be all my imagination. You get to a point, these days, where you suspect everyone and everything. Again and again . . . on some simple look or word, I’ve found myself . . .
[The telephone rings in the office below.]
Mrs. Van Daan (hurrying to MR. KRALER). There’s the telephone! What does that mean, the telephone ringing on a holiday?
Mr. Kraler. That’s my wife. I told her I had to go over some papers in my office . . . to call me there when she got out of church. (He starts out.) I’ll offer him half, then. Goodbye . . . we’ll hope for the best!
[The group call their goodbyes halfheartedly. MR. FRANK follows MR. KRALER to bolt the door below. During the following scene, MR. FRANK comes back up and stands listening, disturbed.]
Dussel (to MR. VAN DAAN). You can thank your son for this . . . smashing the light! I tell you, it’s just a question of time now.
(He goes to the window at the back and stands looking out.)
Margot. Sometimes I wish the end would come . . . whatever it is.
Mrs. Frank (shocked). Margot!
[ANNE goes to MARGOT, sitting beside her on the couch with her arms around her.]
Margot. Then at least we’d know where we were.
Mrs. Frank. You should be ashamed of yourself! Talking that way! Think how lucky we are! Think of the thousands dying in the war, every day. Think of the people in concentration camps.
Anne (interrupting). What’s the good of that? What’s the good of thinking of misery when you’re already miserable? That’s stupid!
Mrs. Frank. Anne!
[As ANNE goes on raging at her mother, MRS. FRANK tries to break in, in an effort to quiet her.]
Anne. We’re young, Margot and Peter and I! You grown-ups have had your chance! But look at us . . . If we begin thinking of all the horror in the world, we’re lost! We’re trying to hold on to some kind of ideals . . . when everything . . . ideals, hopes . . . everything is being destroyed! It isn’t our fault that the world is in such a mess! We weren’t around when all this started! So don’t try to take it out on us! (She rushes off to her room, slamming the door after her. She picks up a brush from the chest and hurls it to the floor. Then she sits on the settee, trying to control her anger.)
Mr. Van Daan. She talks as if we started the war! Did we start the war? (He spots ANNE’s cake. As he starts to take it, PETER anticipates him.)
Peter. She left her cake. (He starts for ANNE’s room with the cake. There is silence in the main room. MRS. VAN DAAN goes up to her room, followed by MR. VAN DAAN. DUSSEL stays looking out the window. MR. FRANK brings MRS. FRANK her cake. She eats it slowly, without relish. MR. FRANK takes his cake to MARGOT and sits quietly on the sofa beside her. PETER stands in the doorway of ANNE’s darkened room, looking at her, then makes a little movement to let her know he is there. ANNE sits up quickly, trying to hide the signs of her tears. PETER holds out the cake to her.) You left this.
Anne (dully). Thanks.
[PETER starts to go out, then comes back.]
Peter. I thought you were fine just now. You know just how to talk to them. You know just how to say it. I’m no good . . . I never can think . . . especially when I’m mad . . . That Dussel . . . when he said that about Mouschi . . . someone eating him . . . all I could think is . . . I wanted to hit him. I wanted to give him such a . . . a . . . that he’d . . . That’s what I used to do when there was an argument at school. . . . That’s the way I . . . but here . . . And an old man like that . . . it wouldn’t be so good.
Anne. You’re making a big mistake about me. I do it all wrong. I say too much. I go too far. I hurt people’s feelings. . . .
[DUSSEL leaves the window, going to his room.]
Peter. I think you’re just fine . . . What I want to say . . . if it wasn’t for you around here, I don’t know. What I mean . . .
[PETER is interrupted by DUSSEL’s turning on the light. DUSSEL stands in the doorway, startled to see PETER. PETER advances toward him forbiddingly. DUSSEL backs out of the room. PETER closes the door on him.]
Anne. Do you mean it, Peter? Do you really mean it?
Peter. I said it, didn’t I?
Anne. Thank you, Peter!
[In the main room MR. and MRS. FRANK collect the dishes and take them to the sink, washing them. MARGOT lies down again on the couch. DUSSEL, lost, wanders into PETER’s room and takes up a book, starting to read.]
Peter (looking at the photographs on the wall). You’ve got quite a collection.
Anne. Wouldn’t you like some in your room? I could give you some. Heaven knows you spend enough time in there . . . doing heaven knows what . . .
Peter. It’s easier. A fight starts, or an argument . . . I duck in there.
Anne. You’re lucky, having a room to go to. His Lordship is always here . . . I hardly ever get a minute alone. When they start in on me, I can’t duck away. I have to stand there and take it.
Peter. You gave some of it back just now.
Anne. I get so mad. They’ve formed their opinions . . . about everything . . . but we . . . we’re still trying to find out . . . We have problems here that no other people our age have ever had. And just as you think you’ve solved them, something comes along and bang! You have to start all over again.
Peter. At least you’ve got someone you can talk to.
Anne. Not really. Mother . . . I never discuss anything serious with her. She doesn’t understand. Father’s all right. We can talk about everything . . . everything but one thing. Mother. He simply won’t talk about her. I don’t think you can be really intimate with anyone if he holds something back, do you?
Peter. I think your father’s fine.
Anne. Oh, he is, Peter! He is! He’s the only one who’s ever given me the feeling that I have any sense. But anyway, nothing can take the place of school and play and friends of your own age . . . or near your age . . . can it?
Peter. I suppose you miss your friends and all.
Anne. It isn’t just . . . (She breaks off, staring up at him for a second.) Isn’t it funny, you and I? Here we’ve been seeing each other every minute for almost a year and a half, and this is the first time we’ve ever really talked. It helps a lot to have someone to talk to, don’t you think? It helps you to let off steam.
Peter (going to the door). Well, any time you want to let off steam, you can come into my room.
Anne (following him). I can get up an awful lot of steam. You’ll have to be careful how you say that.
Peter. It’s all right with me.
Anne. Do you mean it?
Peter. I said it, didn’t I?
[He goes out. ANNE stands in her doorway looking after him. As PETER gets to his door, he stands for a minute looking back at her. Then he goes into his room. DUSSEL rises as he comes in, and quickly passes him, going out. He starts across for his room. ANNE sees him coming and pulls her door shut. DUSSEL turns back toward PETER’s room. PETER pulls his door shut. DUSSEL stands there, bewildered, forlorn.
The scene slowly dims out. The curtain falls on the scene. ANNE’s voice comes over in the darkness . . . faintly at first and then with growing strength.]
Anne’s Voice. We’ve had bad news. The people from whom Miep got our ration books have been arrested. So we have had to cut down on our food. Our stomachs are so empty that they rumble and make strange noises, all in different keys. Mr. Van Daan’s is deep and low, like a bass fiddle. Mine is high, whistling like a flute. As we all sit around waiting for supper, it’s like an orchestra tuning up. It only needs
Toscanini to raise his baton and we’d be off in the “Ride of the Valkyries.”4 Monday, the sixth of March, nineteen forty-four. Mr. Kraler is in the hospital. It seems he has ulcers. Pim says we are his ulcers. Miep has to run the business and us too. The Americans have landed on the southern tip of Italy. Father looks for a quick finish to the war. Mr. Dussel is waiting every day for the warehouse man to demand more money. Have I been skipping too much from one subject to another? I can’t help it. I feel that spring is coming. I feel it in my whole body and soul. I feel utterly confused. I am longing . . . so longing . . . for everything . . . for friends . . . for someone to talk to . . . someone who understands . . . someone young, who feels as I do . . .
[As these last lines are being said, the curtain rises on the scene. The lights dim on. ANNE’s
voice fades out.]
(Scene 1 page 2)
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