CHRISTMAS SHOPPING
Light snow is falling at six o’clock on Christmas Eve. Anatol, a pleasure-seeking Viennese, is rushing along a street lined with shops, and catches up to Gabrielle, one of his former lovers.
Anatol [stopping]—Dear lady, dear lady … !
Gabrielle—I beg your pardon … Oh, it’s you!
Anatol—Yes, I’ve been running after you! I can’t just watch while you carry all these things. Let me take some of your packages … Please.
Gabrielle—No, no, thank you—I’ll carry them myself!
Anatol—But I beg you, allow me some gallantry for once.
Gabrielle—Well, you could take just this one.
Anatol—That’s nothing. Let me take this one, and this … and the other.
Gabrielle—Enough, that’s enough—you’re too kind!
Anatol—It does one good when one can be.
Gabrielle—You only seem to give evidence of that when you’re out in public—and it’s snowing.
Anatol—And when it’s getting late into the evening, and when it just happens to be Christmas?
Gabrielle—It’s astounding that you happen to show up!
Anatol—Yes, yes … You mean that I haven’t visited you even once this year.
Gabrielle—Yes, something like that.
Anatol—I haven’t been visiting anyone this year—no one at all! So, how’s your fine husband doing? And the dear children?
Gabrielle—Please spare me such questions—I know none of that is really of interest to you.
Anatol—It’s uncanny how well you can read me!
Gabrielle—Well, I do know you!
Anatol—Not as well as I might wish!
Gabrielle—Stop it with such comments! Yes…
Anatol—Oh, I can’t help myself.
Gabrielle—Then give me back my packages!
Anatol—Don’t get angry, I’ll behave myself …
[They walk along together in silence.]
Gabrielle—You could at least say something!
Anatol—Something—for sure—but you’re so critical…
Gabrielle—Do tell me something. We haven’t seen each other for such a long time… What have you been doing?
Anatol—I haven’t been doing anything, as usual!
Gabrielle—Nothing?
Anatol—Nothing at all!
Gabrielle—That’s really a shame!
Anatol—You really don’t care in any case!
Gabrielle—How can you say that?
Anatol—Why do I waste my life? Who’s to blame for that? Who?
Gabrielle—Give me my packages!
Anatol—I don’t accuse anyone… I’m just asking.
Gabrielle—You still spend your time strolling around idly?
Anatol—Idly! You put it so contemptuously! As if there were anything better than idling! But that’s certainly not the case this evening. I’m just as busy as you are, dear lady!
Gabrielle—How’s that?
Anatol—I’m also going Christmas shopping!
Gabrielle—You!?
Anatol—But I really can’t find anything worth buying! I’ve been standing for weeks every evening in front of the shop windows in all the streets. But with these merchants there’s nothing tasteful or inspired to be found.
Gabrielle—Taste and inspiration are up to the customer to provide! If someone has so little to do as you, you’d be so inspired that you’d take care of all the Christmas shopping already in the fall.
Anatol—I’m not that sort. How would you know already in the fall to whom you’ll give a gift? And now it’s just two hours before the shops close and I have no idea, no clue!
Gabrielle—May I help you?
Anatol—You’re an angel, but don’t take back these packages.
Gabrielle—No, no.
Anatol—You let me call you an angel, darling angel.
Gabrielle—Oh, please stop it!
Anatol—I’ll behave myself.
Gabrielle—So, give me some sense of what you might want to buy. Whom would this gift be for?
Anatol—That’s a little hard to say…
Gabrielle—A lady, naturally?!
Anatol—Well, yes. As I said before, you do know me quite well.
Gabrielle—But what kind of woman—a true lady?
Anatol—It depends on what you mean by that. If you mean a woman who moves in your circles, then perhaps not.
Gabrielle—Is it someone I might know?
Anatol—I think not.
Gabrielle—Well, I certainly didn’t think so!
Anatol—Don’t be so snide!
Gabrielle—I know your type—someone thin and blonde, who lives outside the city center.
Anatol—She’s blonde, I’ll admit.
Gabrielle—Blonde, it’s odd how you’re always involved with these women from the outer districts.
Anatol—I’m not to blame, dear lady.
Gabrielle—Don’t be unfair. It’s good that you follow your taste and enjoy your conquests.
Anatol—What else should I do—I like to have my admirers.
Gabrielle—But do they really understand you?
Anatol—I have no idea! But you know… the common women merely cherish me while the grandes dames only manage to understand me.
Gabrielle—I don’t know about that and I don’t want to. Come along, here’s just the right shop where we can buy something for your little friend.
Anatol—Oh, dear lady!
Gabrielle—Now, let’s see. Look at this lovely box containing three different scents, or this one with six types of soaps—Patchouli, Bergamot, Jockey Club—those might do, no?
Anatol—Dear lady, you’re being unkind!
Gabrielle—Oh, wait, here! Look, this little broach with six rhinestones—just think—six! How they sparkle! Or this charming bracelet with heavenly charms—these glittering things should appeal to someone like that!
Anatol—Dear lady, you’re mistaken. You don’t even know the girl, and she’s quite different than you imagine.
Gabrielle—Oh, how lovely! Come closer! What do you think of that hat! That style was all the rage two years ago! And the feathers, how they flutter! That would certainly attract lots of attention!
Anatol—Dear lady, you underestimate her taste.
Gabrielle—It’s not easy with you. If you want my help, you’ll have to give me a little more to go on.
Anatol—How can I do that, when you’d only respond with derisive laughter?
Gabrielle—Oh, no, no! Help me to understand. Is she vain or demure, large or small? Does she favor bright colors?
Anatol—I shouldn’t have taken your friendliness for granted. All you can do is mock.
Gabrielle—Not at all, I’m listening. Tell me about her.
Anatol—But I hardly dare.
Gabrielle—Oh, do. How long…?
Anatol—Let’s forget about it!
Gabrielle—I insist! How long have you known her?
Anatol—For… a long time!
Gabrielle—Don’t make me ask so many questions. Tell me the whole story!
Anatol—There’s not much of a story.
Gabrielle—But where did you meet her, how, and when, and what kind of person is she, that’s what I really want to know!
Anatol—Alright, but it’s all a bit boring, I’m telling you.
Gabrielle—It truly interests me. I’d like to know something about her world. What kind of milieu is it? I can’t even imagine!
Anatol—You couldn’t begin to comprehend it!
Gabrielle—Oh, mein Herr!
Anatol—You have such overarching contempt for anyone not belonging to your circle. That’s terribly unjust.
Gabrielle—But I’m eager to learn. How can I learn about this milieu if no one dares to tell me about it?
Anatol—But it seems that you have a vague feeling that she’s somehow getting the better of you in the end?
Gabrielle—I beg to differ, no one takes anything away from me that I want to keep for myself.
Anatol—Yes, but when it’s something that you don’t really want… then it still bothers you when someone else gets it?
Gabrielle—Oh—!
Anatol—That’s a woman’s natural prerogative. And since it’s a woman’s prerogative, it’s probably also refined, beautiful and deep …
Gabrielle—You’ve become so sarcastic!
Anatol—And how would that have come about? I’ll tell you. I used to be so good and trusting and spoke without scorn, but I’ve suffered some blows.
Gabrielle—Don’t romanticize!
Anatol—True wounds, yes. A rejection, coming from the most beloved lips, that I could survive. But a “No” when the eyes emphatically say “Perhaps,” when the lips smile seductively to signal “Could be!” and when the tone of voice sounds like “Certainly,” that kind of a rejection is…
Gabrielle—Let’s get on with the shopping!
Anatol—Such rejections turn you into a fool … or a cynic!
Gabrielle—You wanted to tell me about it…
Anatol—Good, if you really want to hear it all.
Gabrielle—Of course, I do! How did you meet her?
Anatol—How does one meet anyone? On the street, at a dance, on the omnibus, under an umbrella…
Gabrielle—You know this special case interests me. We want to buy something special just for her.
Anatol—There are no special cases among such women, nor among those in your own circle. You’re all so typical!
Gabrielle—You’re starting up again…
Anatol—I don’t mean to be insulting—certainly not—I’m just a type myself!
Gabrielle—And what sort are you?
Anatol—I am a Reckless Melancholic!
Gabrielle—And I am?
Anatol—You are a Worldly Married Lady!
Gabrielle—And, she is…?
Anatol—She’s a sweet girl!
Gabrielle—Sweet? Right away sweet? And I—worldly—pure and simple?
Anatol—Naughtily worldly, if you really want to know.
Gabrielle—So, finally, tell me about her, the sweet girl.
Anatol—She’s not incredibly beautiful, nor overly elegant, and she’s not so clever…
Gabrielle—I don’t want to know what she’s not.
Anatol—But she has the gentle charm of a spring evening, the grace of an enchanted princess, and the spirit of a maiden who knows how to love!
Gabrielle—This kind of spirit must be quite commonplace among her kind!
Anatol—You can’t begin to put yourself in her place! Too much was kept from you when you were a young girl, and you were told too much since you became a young woman! That’s the origin of the naiveté of your observations.
Gabrielle—But listen to me, I’d like to understand. I believe you when you say she’s an enchanted princess. Tell me about the castle in which she lives.
Anatol—You of course shouldn’t imagine a glittering salon, with heavy doors, decorative objects and velvet strewn around in the staged half-light of a dying afternoon …
Gabrielle—I don’t want to know what I should not imagine …
Anatol—So, picture a small gloomy room, very small with painted walls, a few mediocre etchings here and there, a hanging lamp with a shade. From the window you can see roofs and chimneys and when spring comes the garden opposite blooms and smells sweet.
Gabrielle—How happy she must be to spend Christmas already looking forward to May.
Anatol—Yes, I’m sometimes happy there myself!
Gabrielle—That’s enough, enough! It’s getting late and we need to buy her something. Perhaps something for her shabby room.
Anatol—It doesn’t lack anything!
Gabrielle—Yes, I’m sure that she doesn’t need anything, but I’d like to decorate the room a bit more to your taste!
Anatol—My taste?
Gabrielle—With Persian carpets …
Anatol—That’s not necessary.
Gabrielle—Some bibelots?
Anatol—Hm!
Gabrielle—A pair of vases with fresh flowers?
Anatol—But I want to bring her something …
Gabrielle—Yes, yes, we need to decide. She’s probably waiting for you?
Anatol—Certainly!
Gabrielle—Tell me, what does she say when she greets you?
Anatol—The usual.
Gabrielle—She recognizes your step in the stairwell?
Anatol—Yes, sometimes.
Gabrielle—And she waits for you at the door?
Anatol—Yes!
Gabrielle—And she throws her arms around your neck, kisses you, and then what does she say?
Anatol—The right things.
Gabrielle—For example?
Anton—I can’t give one.
Gabrielle—So what did she say to you yesterday?
Anatol—Ach, nothing special … It sounds so ordinary when you can’t hear the tone of her voice…
Gabrielle—I will imagine it. What does she say?
Anatol—“It’s wonderful to have you back again!”
Gabrielle—“It’s wonderful …” What was the rest?
Anatol—“to have you back again.”
Gabrielle—That’s lovely, very lovely!
Anatol—Yes, it’s heartfelt and true.
Gabrielle—And she’s always there alone? You can see each other without being disturbed?
Anatol—Yes, she’s by herself, all alone. No father, no mother, not even an aunt.
Gabrielle—And you’re her everything?
Anatol—… It’s possible! … This evening … [He goes silent.]
Gabrielle—It’s getting so late. Look how empty the streets have become …
Anatol—Oh, I’m keeping you. You need to get home.
Gabrielle—Of course, they’re waiting for me. But what are we going to do about the gift?
Anatol—I’ll find some trifle.
Gabrielle—But I wanted to help you find something for the sweet thing.
Anatol—It’s fine.
Gabrielle—How I wish I could be there when you bring her the Christmas present… I’d love to see the small room and the sweet girl. She has no idea how lucky she is!
Anatol—Mm…
Gabrielle—But now give me my packages. It’s so late!
Anatol—Here you are, but there’s a cab.
Gabrielle—Could you wave it down?
Anatol—You’re in a hurry, all of a sudden?!
Gabrielle—Please! [He waves down the taxi.] I thank you. But what are we doing to do about the gift …?
Anatol—Here, it’s stopped.
Gabrielle—Here, please take these flowers, these simple flowers. They’re nothing more than a greeting, but please give them to her for me.
Anatol—Dear lady—you’re so kind.
Gabrielle—You promise me?
Anatol—With pleasure, why not?
Gabrielle—So tell her…
Anatol—Yes?
Gabrielle—So tell her: “These flowers, my … sweet girl, are sent to you by a woman, who can love just as well as you, but who didn’t have the courage…”
Anatol—Dear … lady!?
[She gets into the taxi, it drives off as he watches it disappear. He stands still for a moment, looks at his watch and rushes off. Curtain]
1893