Goodbye, Franziska (Auf Wiedersehn, Franziska)

GOODBYE, FRANZISKA

Hello!

You have strong nerves. Self-control is splendid, but unhealthy.

Anger must be let out, or it ruins the liver and spleen.

My Aunt Hanschen died of suppressed rage before she was 65.

Her insides exploded.

Well, well!

I do detect a trace of humour!

Our short exchange reveals thus far: A young girl, possibly north German,

well brought-up, a bit heartless and arrogant, but very charming.

You lack the gift of speech, sadly, though it doesn't prevent you

from making yourself quite clear.

Well...

Oh, pardon me. One moment, if you please.

Thank you very much. Not at all.

- Can I help you? - I...

Do you live here? Reisiger's my name. Yes, it's my house. Prof. Tiemann.

Could I speak with you for a moment?

I'm here on commission of the Ministry for Homeland Research.

Please, do come in.

Most kind of you.

Franziska, be a dear and take this gentleman up to the bedroom. - What?

Mr... Sorry, what was your name? Reisiger. Michael Reisiger.

Mr. Reisiger is taking pictures for a government ministry.

Yes, I'm to photograph the town's attractions.

There's a good view of the Nicholas Mansion from the bedroom.

Well then, let's go to the bedroom,

if Papa has nothing against it. We'll go up to the roof!

Careful you don't slide off! Do you have a head for heights?

Well, I prefer the high life to the low-life, Professor.

I hope I'm not putting you to any trouble, Miss Tiemann.

Remember Aunt Hanschen, Miss Tiemann.

That's the way up! What should I do up there?

Didn't you want to photograph the town's attractions?

That's not on, Miss Franziska.

My behaviour surely calls for silent disdain or a jolly good row.

I shan't settle for mere irony!

I see. Then you'll have the chance to dismiss my reproaches,

justify your behaviour, and voila! We'll be conversing. - Very well.

Let's forget the reproaches! When shall we meet again?

Never! Then I shall come every day.

But can I think up enough excuses? Don't trouble yourself!

I shall even try to conduct myself properly. Well?

So, at the Lion Fountain, opposite the cafe, at 5 p.m.?

As you like! If you really want to wait in vain!

I only came... To say you're not coming, right?

Do you think I expected anything else? I have a profession!

Oh, goodness! Don't tell me you're an artisan?

Absolutely!

At the moment I'm exhibiting wooden toys in Aegidien Street.

Hello, Christoph. Where is the child? Good day, Johannes.

She was meant to be here at 5, as I have to go to an auction.

She left at 4.30 to come here. How strange.

Did you want something?

Oh, excuse me.

Leitner's antiques!

Your Miss Tiemann can't work today. She's in bed with mumps.

Mumps, you know, in the throat. Who is this?

This is Professor Tiemann, Miss Tiemann's... father.

As soon as the poor child is well, I shall let you know.

Hello?

Hello!

What on earth ...? Someone called to say Franzi's in bed with mumps.

- Who called? - You did!

For heaven's sake, Father and Dr. Leitner are best friends!

No! - I don't work there, I have an exhibition.

You promised to behave yourself.

Christoph, what do you think of the things that Franzi makes?

I think they're rather nice.

No worse than what other girls make,

but no better either! But you know how she is.

She needs to have something to do. Well, after we moved here,

and after Veronika passed on, it became a little too quiet for her.

She was better off at the university in Rostock. - She should marry!

Yes, she should indeed.

Do you know that I asked for Franzi's hand in spring? - Of course.

She said neither yes nor no.

And that, I think, is the worst kind of 'no'.

She withdrew. She's waiting for something.

I suppose you're feeling proud of yourself now?

'Proud' is not quite the right word.

Don't go thinking you kissed me against my will!

Will you take your coffee there, Franzi?

Of course, Schoepfi. Like always.

Blessed are we that receive. Blessed are we.

I'll get my pipe, even though Franzi will grumble.

Please excuse that poorjoke this afternoon. I didn't intend...

Telling fibs is an art, if one's not to be found out.

I brought something for you. You can't give me that!

I know you like it a lot. No, I don't like it any more.

If you don't want it, I'll sell it to some tourist.

Fibbing is an art, at least... I'll sell it for a song!

Well, it makes me very happy! Franzi! Yes?

Telephone. For you.

Hello?

No.

No, I told you already.

Please do not call me again!

Now the place where the figurine stood isn't so empty.

This is worthless: A copy of the fountain on the square.

Good day. Good day. May I have a look around?

Of course, take a look. I haven't much of interest at present.

- Are you a connoisseur? - No.

My judgement rests purely on my taste.

Old Murano glass, not gilded. Yes, very lovely.

Oh, the Lion Fountain on the square?

What's the price? 12 Marks. Aworthless copy.

Nevertheless, a precious souvenirfor me.

For days I waited in vain for a girl at that fountain. - Really?

Yes.

Oh, these are...

Charming, charming. Little fetishes for big people.

Little horses, lions, mice, cats and miniature trains.

Surely the work of a woman: A kittenish young thing, it seems.

She's right here: Miss Tiemann.

Oh? Please forgive my... my somewhat frank remark.

I realise now that it was quite misplaced.

And this little train, I'd like to buy it, if you don't mind.

It reminds me so much of my life.

And the lions. Pack them for me too. Very well.

Why didn't you ever come? I didn't want to see you again.

I'll expect you tomorrow at 6 p.m. by our fountain.

Well? Feeling very proud again? I'll try not to.

You didn't come to please me, but because we must see one another.

Rain talk! Shall we really run around in the rain?

Rain and falling leaves suggest a farewell, but we're just beginning.

Where might we go?

What are you laughing at? I know exactly what comes next.

You'll propose a film, a glass of wine, or even a museum,

all the while afraid that I might say yes to something.

But in most cases that's exactly... In most cases?

Well, in that case I'll make it easy for you.

Come, Michael. Give him your address.

Number 8, The Powder Tower!

Yes, this really is my house. I live in the same village as you.

If one can describe it as living...

This is dear old Kathrin, who I inherited along with the house.

From Aunt Hanschen? Shall I make tea? Please do, Kathrin,

please do.

We never had a visitor before, Kathrin and I. I'm rarely here.

I've had the house almost 10 years

but lived here for only 10 weeks in total, if one adds up

the odd days I was here. That's why it looks like this.

Please come in.

The place is really only a postal address and a junk room.

So it seems.

Indeed. And Kathrin potters about, getting older and quainter.

Every part of the world is here!

I bought all this on trips abroad.

Most of it is junk. But this is beautiful.

Really? I've never really taken a good look at it.

But now you mention it, I like it very much too.

Christoph must see that. Christoph?

None of it really suits you, Mr... Michael.

Nothing really suits me. - Is that why you need the whole world around you?

That's above my head.

Shall we take a look around?

This here is my workshop, my darkroom, the trinket chamber,

the only important room in the house. And these are my tools.

Tools? I have an adventurous profession.

Photo reporter for the newsreels, a specialist on natural disasters,

wars, epidemics, locust plagues and the like.

I have to go to where the action is: Here, insurrection in India,

fires in Ohio, the Yangtse river flood, droughts in China,

whale hunts in the Arctic, railway disasters in Sydney,

striking miners in Wales, earthquakes in Chile and here...

Hounded around the globe... Is that not a dreadful life?

The only life worth living, dear girl!

To be always present, where things, people and ideas are in flux.

To see the wounds of the world, and then leave when it gets too rough.

Doesn't one start to detest life? To love it, Franziska.

One has one's finger on the pulse of life, every day!

Life always goes on. Ask any doctor who confronts death daily.

He loves life more than others do. If he's like you. But what's left,

when life goes on that way? What do you keep of it?

Keep?

Not a lot. Some memories of things, events, women...

Nothing really. But one doesn't need to keep anything.

Life goes on. One can't hold onto anything.

What's gone, is gone. Today is just a fleeting moment.

The moment you say the word "today", tomorrow's already begun.

Only men see things that way, men like you.

Well, here we are again! Not worth looking at the junk upstairs.

Here, tea is ready. Is the lady spending the evening here?

Shall I perhaps prepare...

For your guest, I mean... Don't you think...

Well, I'll see what there is.

See what there is, Kathrin.

- Music? - Well...

Do you have a request? We've the whole world here.

Sensible music

and amorous music.

You know best what one plays in such cases. Still resentful?

Of what? - Please don't remind me of my thoughtlessness.

Yet... I really am just one case in a series of many.

Life goes on and on, doesn't it?

How does the song go? Oh, like all amorous songs.

Suits every case. In this case, the song goes like this:

You're at my place for the first time. We know something might happen.

We must be careful not to fall in love, for we know