'I like riding in taxis,' Grandmother says.
'And just when do you do all your taxi-riding?' says Grandfather. 'You always take the trams when you're out with me.'
Grandmother prods the plum cake with one of her forks. 'It's cool enough now,' she announces.
'Know-it-alls,' says Grandfather. 'Everyone's a know-it-all today.' And before he draws a chair up to the kitchen table, he feels obliged - for Zahn's happiness - to jar the static out of the radio.
Zahn is pleased. Here's Radio Johannesgasse, clear for tea, and he anticipates the newstime signal blip. Time is that dependable on Wednesdays; when the forks are straight and the cake's cool, it's time for news.
Worldwide: Steenockerzeel Castle, Belgium, where the Hapsburg Pretender lives. Legitimist leader Freiherr von Wiesner calls on all Austrian monarchists to resist Nazi Germany's continued pressure to incorporate Austria into the Reich. Von Wiesner appealed to Chancellor Schuschnigg that a return of the monarchy would offer the best resistance to Germany.
Austria: Tyrolean-born Kurt von Schuschnigg, at a mass meeting in Innsbruck, announced to his native province, and to the world, that in four days' time, on Sunday, the country will hold a plebiscite. The voters may decide for themselves - an independent Austria, or the Anschluss with Germany. Chancellor Schuschnigg ended his speech by shouting in Tyrolean dialect to the twenty thousand assembled in the Maria-Theresien-Platz: 'Men, the time has come!' In Innsbruck this had special significance, of course, because one hundred and thirty years ago the peasant hero Andreas Hofer had with the same cry impassioned his countrymen to resist Napoleon.
Local: a young woman identified as Mara Madoff, daughter of clothier Sigismund Madoff, was found this morning hanging in her coat on a coat hook in the second-balcony wardrobe closet of the Vienna State Opera House. Opera custodian Odilo Linz, who discovered the body, says he's sure this particular closet is never used, and at least wasn't being used at last night's performance of Lohengrin. Odilo checked the closet some time during the Prelude; he says nothing was hanging there then. Authorities attribute the cause of death to a star-shaped series of fine-pointed stab wounds in the heart, and estimate the time of death as well toward the end of the opera. The authorities say that the young woman was in no way assaulted; however, her stockings were missing and her shoes had been put back on. Late last night, someone claims to have seen a group of young men at the Haarhof Keller; allegedly, one of them wore a pair of women's stockings for a scarf. But among the young men, these days, this is a common way of showing off.
Also local: spokesmen for several anti-Nazi groups have already pledged their endorsement of Schuschnigg's proposed plebiscite. Karl Mittler has promised th
e support of the underground Socialists; Colonel Wolff has spoken for the monarchists; Doktor Friedmann for the Jewish community; Cardinal Innitzer for the Catholics. Chancellor Schuschnigg will be taking the overnight train from the Alps and is scheduled to arrive in Vienna by early morning. Some welcome is expected for him.
'Some welcome, for sure!' says Zahn. 'He's done something, anyway, to show we're not just Hitler's backyard.'
'Know-it-all,' says Grandfather. 'Just who does he think he is? Another Andreas Hofer, standing up to Napoleon. Cheers in the Tyrol - that I believe. But what do they say about Schuschnigg in Berlin? We're not standing up to a Frenchman this time.'
'God,' says Zahn. 'Give him some credit. The vote's a sure thing. Nobody wants Germany in Austria.'
'You're thinking like a taxi driver now, all right,' Grandfather says. 'Nobody, you say - and what does it matter? - wants, you say. I'll tell you what I want, and how little it matters. I want a man who'll do what he says he'll do. And that was Dollfuss, and he got murdered by some of those nobodies you mention. And now we've got Schuschnigg, that's what we've got.'
'But he's called for an open vote,' Zahn says.
'And it's four days away,' says Grandfather, scornfully - and notices the cake crumbs he's sprayed about the table. He grows a bit muttery, and his ears blush. 'I'm telling you, student or taxi driver or whatnot,' he says, careful of cake, 'it's a good thing the world's not flat, or Schuschnigg would have backed off long ago.'
'You're such an old pessimist,' Hilke says.
'Yes you are,' says Grandmother, herding crumbs off the tablecloth with one of her forks, 'and you're the biggest know-it-all there is, too. And got the worst eating manners I've seen, for someone of your colossal age.'
'Of my what?' shouts Grandfather, and showers cake. 'Where'd you ever learn to say a thing like that?'
And Grandmother, haughtily, moistens a fingertip, dabs at a cake crumb on Grandfather's tie. 'I read it in a book you brought home,' she says proudly, 'and I thought it was very poetical. And you're always telling me I don't read enough, you know-it-all.'
'Just show me the book,' says Grandfather, 'so I won't make the mistake of reading it.'
Zahn makes faces at Grandfather, to show his tea is weak on rum. 'Well, there's going to be some celebrating tomorrow,' he says. 'I could make a pile of fares, all right.'
And Hilke is deciding what she'll wear. The one-piece, red wool jersey with the big roll collar. If it doesn't snow.
The Fifth Zoo Watch: Monday, 5 June 1967 @ 11.45 p.m.
THE WATCHMAN STARTS his first round at a quarter to nine and returns to the Small Mammal House at a quarter past. He made another round from quarter to eleven till quarter past. It was just the same.
The second time, I stayed behind the hedgerow and let him pass by close to me. I can tell you what he looks like from the waist down. A military snap-flap holster on a skinny ammunition belt that only holds twelve rounds; I don't know how many rounds his snubnose revolver holds. The keyring loops through the ammunition belt; it would be too heavy for a belt loop. The flashlight has a wrist thong and is cased in metal: it may make up for the fact that he doesn't carry a truncheon. Gray twill uniform pants, wide at the ankle, and cuffless. The socks are funny; they have a squiggly design, and one of them keeps slipping into the heel of his shoe; he's always stopping to tug it up. The shoes are just black shoes, sort of everyday shoes. He doesn't take his uniform very seriously.
I was in no danger of being spotted. He shone his light along the hedges, but they're too thick to penetrate. Maybe if he'd been down on all fours, shining at root level - and if his eyesight had been very keen to begin with - he might have seen through to me. But you can tell what a good place to hide I've got.
This watchman doesn't seem so bad. He's sometimes inconsiderate as to where he shines his flashlight. He just flashes it around to every little cough or stir, and you'd think by now he'd know the dreaming prattle of his charges, and wouldn't have to be checking up on every little snore. Still, he doesn't seem to be malicious about it. He may be nervous, or bored - and trying to find as much to look at as he can.
He even seems to have his favorites. I watched him call a zebra over to the fence line. 'Fancy horse,' he said. 'Come here, fancy horse.' And one of the zebras, who must have been awake and waiting, came alongside him, shoving its muzzle over the fence. The watchman fed it something - certainly, against the rules - and gave its ears a tug or two. Now, any man who likes zebras can't be all bad.
He also has an interesting relationship with one of the lesser kangaroos. I think it's the wallaby, or perhaps the wallaroo; they're rather similar, at the distance I was from them. It wasn't the great gray boomer, certainly; I could have noted the size of that monster, the whole length of the path. Anyway, the watchman called somebody over. 'Hey, you Australian,' he said. 'Hey you dandy, come over here and box.' And somebody thumped; a long, sharp ear sprang up - a stiff tail thwacked the ground. Maybe the guard's tone was a little taunting, and it may have been rude of him to be waking up the Australian's neighbors. But this watchman is a pretty gentle type, I feel. If it turns out that he's the guard we have to nab and stash, I'd want to do the job as politely as possible.