TART: Come on, dearie. [THE SOLDIER turns around but proceeds on his way.] Come on, won't you?
SOLDIER: Oh, so I'm dearie?
TART: Sure, who else? Come on with me, why don't you? I live right near.
SOLDIER: Got no time. Got to get back to the barracks.
TART: Oh you'll get back to the barracks alright. My place is lots nicer.
SOLDIER: [Close to her.] Maybe so.
TART: Pst. A policeman might come any moment.
SOLDIER: You're crazy! Policeman! I've got my bayonet, haven't I?
TART: Aw, come on, won't you?
SOLDIER: Leave me alone. I got no money.
TART: I don't need your money.
SOLDIER: [Standing still, they are under a street lamp.] You don't need money? Who do you think you are, anyway?
TART: Oh I get money from the civilians. But a fellow like you can get it free, any time.
SOLDIER: I guess you're the one my pal Huber told me about--
TART: Don't know any Huber.
SOLDIER: You're the one, alright. He picked you up in that Café down by the river and went home with you.
TART: Lord, I've gone home with plenty from that Café, dearie!
SOLDIER: Well, come on, let's go.
TART: What's your hurry now?
SOLDIER: Well, what's the use of waitin'? I got to be in the barracks by ten.
TART: Been in the service long?
SOLDIER: What's that got to do with you? How far do you live?
TART: Ten minutes walk.
SOLDIER: That's too far for me. Gimme a kiss.
TART: [Kissing him.] Suits me fine when I like a fellow!
SOLDIER: Well, it don't suit me. No, I'm not goin' with you, it's too damn far.
TART: I know what, come tomorrow afternoon, huh?
SOLDIER: Good idea. Gimme your address.
TART: But you won't turn up, I know your kind.
SOLDIER: Listen, you can count on me!
TART: See here--if it's too far for you to come home tonight, how about down there-- [Points toward the Danube.]
SOLDIER: What's down there?
TART: It's nice and quiet there . . . no one'll come around.
SOLDIER: Oh, that's not the real thing.
TART: It's always the real thing with me, sweetie. Aw, come on, stay with me. Tomorrow maybe we're dead!
SOLDIER: Alright then, but make it fast.
TART: Look out, though, it's pitch black down there. If you slip you'll land in the Danube.
SOLDIER: Might be the best thing.
TART: Pst, go easy now. We're almost at the bench.
SOLDIER: You know your way around alright.
TART: I'd like a fellow like you for a sweetheart.
SOLDIER: I'd keep you too damn busy!
TART: I'd put a stop to that soon enough.
SOLDIER: That's a good one! Ha!
TART: Quiet, will you? Once in a while a watchman does stumble into this place. God, would you believe we was right in the middle of the city?
SOLDIER: Come on, here--
TART: You're crazy, if we slip we'll roll right down in the water.
SOLDIER: [Seizing her.] Oh, you--
TART: Hold on tight.
SOLDIER: Don't worry . . .
* * *
TART: We should've gone to the bench.
SOLDIER: Aw, who cares? . . . Well, get a move on, will you?
TART: What's your hurry?
SOLDIER: I got to get back to the barracks, I'm late already.
TART: What's your name, anyway?
SOLDIER: What's my name got to do with you?
TART: My name's Leocadia.
SOLDIER: Ha! That's the first time I've banged a name like that.
TART: Say--
SOLDIER: What do you want now?
TART: You might slip me a bit for carfare, at least!
SOLDIER: Ha! . . . Take me for a sucker? . . . So long, Leocadia! . . .
TART: Bum! Piker! [He has disappeared.]
