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FRANZ: Herr Haller! Are you all right?
HARRY: Oh, yes, yes. I'm sorry if I startled you. I
didn't hear you coming up. My thoughts were wool gathering.
FRANZ: Are you sure you're all right? May I help you
upstairs?
HARRY: No, no, no, there's no need. Sit down a moment,
if you can spare the time.
FRANZ: It is not my custom to sit on the stairs at other
people's doors.
HARRY: Yes, quite so. Now you've embarrassed me. Let
me explain. I've taken quite a fancy to this little vestibule,
polished, scoured, glittering, like your aunt's below. I always have to
take a deep breath when I go by. It reeks of peace and tranquility.
I've always sought places like this to live. You see, I need it, don't
you see?
FRANZ: But you are ill.
HARRY: Nonsense. I'm only a shabby old Steppenwolf
creeping up the stairs of other people's houses. Pains I have
sometimes, as elderly people do.
FRANZ: "Elderly" is a little bit exaggerated. You can't
be 50 yet.
HARRY: No, you're right, more's the pity. But not long
to wait, either.
***
HARRY: Wait, you, hey. Let me see your sign. What is
this evening entertainment? Where is it?
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