NANCY starts to protest.

Far too much. After all, a man is not a child. Even in those days before the war, I knew you were not free, that you had some kind of arrangement—

NANCY: It was never any secret.

JOSEF: Never. No. And though it wasn’t marriage—

NANCY: Look, I don’t think I want to hear this—

JOSEF: I am sorry. But you must.

She is held by his quiet determination.

The last time that I left this house, I swore that I would not see you again. Things had been said about your life that made me very angry. Which was wrong of me, and more than wrong—meshugge. Even if the tales were true, I had no right to judge you. So I’ve come this once to say that I was wrong, to offer my apologies. And thank you for your kindness to me as a—Jimmy Woodser.

NANCY: Well— [an uncertain angry laugh] —I don’t need to ask what sort of things were said. Or who it was that said them.

JOSEF volunteers nothing.

And this arrangement that you talk of—doesn’t mean I’m on a leash, y’know.

JOSEF: No. Neither does it mean that you have any interest in me, or you ever had. No. I was the refugee equivalent of the drunk at the end of the bar. Telling you his wife had never understood him.

NANCY: It was more than that. You know it was. We always had a lot to talk about—books—and poetry.

JOSEF: Books, yes. And poetry. Is so. [Quietly] ‘Du bist wie eine Blume, So hold und schön und rein’—When I was translating poems into English, I chose those of Heinrich Heine. I used to tell myself because in some ways he reminded me of your Shelley. If I had been more honest, I’d have known it was because he was another Jewish refugee who had tried to turn his back on what he was.

‘Wo wird einst des Wandermuden

Letze Ruhestatte sein?

Unter Palmen in dem Suden?

Unter Linden an dem Rhein?’

During the last line BARNEY appears in the hallway and stands waiting. The other two become aware of his presence. Silently and without haste, JOSEF moves to collect his hat.

Is alright. I will show myself the door.

He then approaches NANCY, to briefly study her face.

‘Leb’ wohl, meine Teure—lebe wohl.’

He gently kisses her mouth, goes up to the hallway, and leaves the house.

BARNEY, astonished, watches him go before turning to NANCY.

BARNEY: That was German he was talkin’.

NANCY: Was it?

BARNEY: You know bloody well it was. A man gets out the army after five years’ knock, and next day he’s got German spoutin’ right under his roof.

NANCY: It wasn’t Mein Kampf,

BARNEY: How do we know? Bloke like that—says and does just what he likes. Wouldn’t even take the hint to stay clear of the house.