Act I Scene 2

Scene II It is early morning, July 1942. The rooms are bare, as before, but they are now clean and orderly. MR. VAN DAAN, a tall, portly man in his late forties, is in the main room, pacing up and down, nervously smoking a cigarette. His clothes and overcoat are expensive and well cut. MRS. VAN DAAN sits on the couch, clutching her possessions, a hatbox, bags, etc. She is a pretty woman in her early forties. She wears a fur coat over her other clothes. PETER VAN DAAN is standing at the window of the room on the right, looking down at the street below. He is a shy, awkward boy of sixteen. He wears a cap, a raincoat, and long Dutch trousers, like “plus fours.”7 At his feet is a black case, a carrier for his cat. The yellow Star of David is conspicuous on all of their clothes. Mrs. Van Daan.  [Rising, nervous, excited] Something’s happened to them! I know it! Mr. Van Daan.  Now, Kerli! Mrs. Van Daan.  Mr. Frank said they’d be here at seven o’clock. He said . . . Mr. Van Daan.  They’ve two miles to walk. You can’t expect . . .

Mrs. Van Daan.  They’ve been picked up. That’s what’s happened. They’ve been taken . . . [MR. VAN DAAN indicates that he hears someone coming.] Mr. Van Daan.  You see? [PETER takes up his carrier and his schoolbag, etc., and goes into the main room as MR. FRANK comes up the stairwell from below. MR. FRANK looks much younger now. His movements are brisk, his manner confident. He wears an overcoat and carries his hat and a small cardboard box. He crosses to the VAN DAANS, shaking hands with each of them.]

Mr. Frank.  Mrs. Van Daan, Mr. Van Daan, Peter. [Then, in explanation of their lateness] There were too many of the Green Police8 on the streets . . . we had to take the long way around. [Up the steps come MARGOT FRANK, MRS. FRANK, MIEP (not pregnant now) and MR. KRALER . All of them carry bags, packages, and so forth. The Star of David is conspicuous on all of the FRANKS’ clothing. MARGOT is eighteen, beautiful, quiet, shy. MRS. FRANK is a young mother, gently bred, reserved. She, like MR. FRANK , has a slight German accent. MR. KRALER is a Dutchman, dependable, kindly. As MR. KRALER and MIEP go upstage to put down their parcels, MRS. FRANK turns back to call ANNE.] Mrs. Frank.  Anne? [ANNE comes running up the stairs. She is thirteen, quick in her movements, interested in everything, mercurial in her emotions. She wears a cape, long wool socks and carries a schoolbag.] Mr. Frank.  [Introducing them] My wife, Edith. Mr. and Mrs. Van Daan . . . their son, Peter . . . my daughters, Margot and Anne. [MRS. FRANK hurries over, shaking hands with them.]

[ANNE gives a polite little curtsy as she shakes MR. VAN DAAN'S hand. Then she immediately starts off on a tour of investigation of her new home, going upstairs to the attic room.] [MIEP and MR. KRALER are putting the various things they have brought on the shelves.] Mr. Kraler.  I’m sorry there is still so much confusion. Mr. Frank.  Please. Don’t think of it. After all, we’ll have plenty of leisure to arrange everything ourselves. Miep.  [To MRS. FRANK] We put the stores of food you sent in here. Your drugs are here . . . soap, linen here. Mrs. Frank.  Thank you, Miep. Miep.  I made up the beds . . . the way Mr. Frank and Mr. Kraler said. [She starts out.] Forgive me. I have to hurry. I’ve got to go to the other side of town to get some ration books9 for you. Mrs. Van Daan.  Ration books? If they see our names on ration books, they’ll know we’re here. Mr. Kraler.  There isn’t anything . . . Miep.  Don’t worry. Your names won’t be on them. [As she hurries out] I’ll be up later. Mr. Frank.  Thank you, Miep. Mrs. Frank.  [To Mr. Kraler] It’s illegal, then, the ration books? We’ve never done anything illegal. Mr. Frank.  We won’t be living here exactly according to regulations. [As MR. KRALER reassures MRS. FRANK, he takes various small things, such as matches, soap, etc., from his pockets, handing them to her.]

Mr. Kraler.  This isn’t the black market,10 Mrs. Frank. This is what we call the white market . . . helping all of the hundreds and hundreds who are hiding out in Amsterdam. [The carillon is heard playing the quarter-hour before eight. MR. KRALER looks at his watch. ANNE stops at the window as she comes down the stairs.] Anne.  It’s the Westertoren! Mr. Kraler.  I must go. I must be out of here and downstairs in the office before the workmen get here. [He starts for the stairs leading out.] Miep or I, or both of us, will be up each day to bring you food and news and find out what your needs are. Tomorrow I’ll get you a better bolt for the door at the foot of the stairs. It needs a bolt that you can throw yourself and open only at our signal. [To MR. FRANK] Oh . . . You’ll tell them about the noise? Mr. Frank.  I’ll tell them. Mr. Kraler.  Good-bye then for the moment. I’ll come up again, after the workmen leave. Mr. Frank.  Good-bye, Mr. Kraler. Mrs. Frank.  [Shaking his hand] How can we thank you? [The others murmur their good-byes.] Mr. Kraler.  I never thought I’d live to see the day when a man like Mr. Frank would have to go into hiding. When you think— [He breaks off, going out. MR. FRANK follows him down the steps, bolting the door after him. In the interval before he returns, PETER goes over to MARGOT, shaking hands with her. As MR. FRANK comes back up the steps, MRS. FRANK questions him anxiously.] Mrs. Frank.  What did he mean, about the noise? Mr. Frank.  First let us take off some of these clothes. [They all start to take off garment after garment. On each of their coats, sweaters, blouses, suits, dresses, is another yellow Star of David. MR. and MRS. FRANK are underdressed quite simply. The others wear several things, sweaters, extra dresses, bathrobes, aprons, nightgowns, etc.] Mr. Van Daan.  It’s a wonder we weren’t arrested, walking along the streets . . . Petronella with a fur coat in July . . . and that cat of Peter’s crying all the way. Anne.  A cat? [Finally, as they have all removed their surplus clothes, they look to MR. FRANK, waiting for him to speak.]

Mr. Frank.  Now. About the noise. While the men are in the building below, we must have complete quiet. Every sound can be heard down there, not only in the workrooms, but in the offices too. The men come at about eight-thirty, and leave at about five-thirty. So, to be perfectly safe, from eight in the morning until six in the evening we must move only when it is necessary, and then in stockinged feet. We must not speak above a whisper. We must not run any water. We cannot use the sink, or even, forgive me, the w.c.11 The pipes go down through the workrooms. It would be heard. No trash . . . [MR. FRANK stops abruptly as he hears the sound of marching feet from the street below. Everyone is motionless, paralyzed with fear. MR. FRANK goes quietly into the room on the right to look down out of the window. ANNE runs after him, peering out with him. The tramping feet pass without stopping. The tension is relieved. MR. FRANK, followed by ANNE, returns to the main room and resumes his instructions to the group] . . . No trash must ever be thrown out which might reveal that someone is living up here . . . not even a potato paring. We must burn everything in the stove at night. This is the way we must live until it is over, if we are to survive. [There is silence for a second.] Mrs. Frank.  Until it is over.

Mr. Frank.  [Reassuringly] After six we can move about . . . we can talk and laugh and have our supper and read and play games . . . just as we would at home. [He looks at his watch.] And now I think it would be wise if we all went to our rooms, and were settled before eight o’clock. Mrs. Van Daan, you and your husband will be upstairs. I regret that there’s no place up there for Peter. But he will be here, near us. This will be our common room, where we’ll meet to talk and eat and read, like one family. Mr. Van Daan.  And where do you and Mrs. Frank sleep? Mr. Frank.  This room is also our bedroom. Mrs. Van Daan.  That isn’t right. We’ll sleep here and you take the room upstairs. Mr. Van Daan.  It’s your place. Mr. Frank.  Please. I’ve thought this out for weeks. It’s the best arrangement. The only arrangement. Mrs. Van Daan.  [To MR. FRANK] Never, never can we thank you. [Then to MRS. FRANK] I don’t know what would have happened to us, if it hadn’t been for Mr. Frank. Mr. Frank.  You don’t know how your husband helped me when I came to this country . . . knowing no one . . . not able to speak the language. I can never repay him for that. [Going to VAN DAAN] May I help you with your things?

Mr. Van Daan.  No. No. [To MRS. VAN DAAN] Come along, liefje12. Mrs. Van Daan.  You’ll be all right, Peter? You’re not afraid? Peter.  [Embarrassed] Please, Mother. [They start up the stairs to the attic room above. MR. FRANK turns to MRS. FRANK] Mr. Frank.  You too must have some rest, Edith. You didn’t close your eyes last night. Nor you, Margot. Anne.  I slept, Father. Wasn’t that funny? I knew it was the last night in my own bed, and yet I slept soundly. Mr. Frank.  I’m glad, Anne. Now you’ll be able to help me straighten things in here. [To MRS. FRANK and MARGOT] Come with me . . . You and Margot rest in this room for the time being. [He picks up their clothes, starting for the room on the right.] Mrs. Frank.  You’re sure . . . ? I could help . . . And Anne hasn’t had her milk . . . Mr. Frank.  I’ll give it to her. [To ANNE and PETER] Anne, Peter . . . it’s best that you take off your shoes now, before you forget. [He leads the way to the room, followed by MARGOT.] Mrs. Frank.  You’re sure you’re not tired, Anne? Anne.  I feel fine. I’m going to help Father. Mrs. Frank.  Peter. I’m glad you are to be with us. Peter.  Yes, Mrs. Frank. [MRS. FRANK goes to join MR. FRANK and MARGOT.] [During the following scene MR. FRANK helps MARGOT and MRS. FRANK to hang up their clothes. Then he persuades them both to lie down and rest. The VAN DAANS in their room above settle themselves. In the main room ANNE and PETER remove their shoes. PETER takes his cat out of the carrier.] Anne.  What’s your cat’s name? Peter.  Mouschi.

Anne.  Mouschi! Mouschi! Mouschi! [She picks up the cat, walking away with it. To PETER] I love cats. I have one . . . a darling little cat. But they made me leave her behind. I left some food and a note for the neighbors to take care of her . . . I’m going to miss her terribly. What is yours? A him or a her? Peter.  He’s a tom. He doesn’t like strangers. [He takes the cat from her, putting it back in its carrier.] Anne.  [Unabashed] Then I’ll have to stop being a stranger, won’t I? Is he fixed? Peter.  [Startled] Huh? Anne.  Did you have him fixed? Peter.  No. Anne.  Oh, you ought to have him fixed—to keep him from—you know, fighting. Where did you go to school? Peter.  Jewish Secondary. Anne.  But that’s where Margot and I go! I never saw you around. Peter.  I used to see you . . . sometimes . . . Anne.  You did? Peter.  . . . in the school yard. You were always in the middle of a bunch of kids. [He takes a penknife from his pocket.] Anne.  Why didn’t you ever come over?

Peter.  I’m sort of a lone wolf. [He starts to rip off his Star of David.] Anne.  What are you doing? Peter.  Taking it off. Anne.  But you can’t do that. They’ll arrest you if you go out without your star. [He tosses his knife on the table.] Peter.  Who’s going out? Anne.  Why, of course! You’re right! Of course we don’t need them any more. [She picks up his knife and starts to take her star off] I wonder what our friends will think when we don’t show up today? Peter.  I didn’t have any dates with anyone. Anne.  Oh, I did. I had a date with Jopie to go and play ping-pong at her house. Do you know Jopie de Waal? Peter.  No.

Anne.  Jopie’s my best friend. I wonder what she’ll think when she telephones and there’s no answer? . . . Probably she’ll go over to the house . . . I wonder what she’ll think . . . we left everything as if we’d suddenly been called away . . . breakfast dishes in the sink . . . beds not made . . . [As she pulls off her star, the cloth underneath shows clearly the color and form of the star] Look! It’s still there! [PETER goes over to the stove with his star.] What’re you going to do with yours?

Peter.  Burn it. Anne.  [She starts to throw hers in and cannot] It’s funny, I can’t throw mine away. I don’t know why. Peter.  You can’t throw . . . ? Something they branded you with . . . ? That they made you wear so they could spit on you? Anne.  I know. I know. But after all, it is the Star of David, isn’t it? [In the bedroom, right, MARGOT and MRS. FRANK are lying down. MR. FRANK starts quietly out.] Peter.  Maybe it’s different for a girl. [MR. FRANK comes into the main room.] Mr. Frank.  Forgive me, Peter. Now let me see. We must find a bed for your cat. [He goes to a cupboard] I’m glad you brought your cat. Anne was feeling so badly about hers. [Getting a used small washtub] Here we are. Will it be comfortable in that? Peter.  [Gathering up his things] Thanks. Mr. Frank.  [Opening the door of the room on the left] And here is your room. But I warn you, Peter, you can’t grow any more. Not an inch, or you’ll have to sleep with your feet out of the skylight. Are you hungry? Peter.  No. Mr. Frank.  We have some bread and butter. Peter.  No, thank you. Mr. Frank.  You can have it for luncheon then. And tonight we will have a real supper . . . our first supper together. Peter.  Thanks. Thanks. [He goes into his room. During the following scene he arranges his possessions in his new room.] Mr. Frank.  That’s a nice boy, Peter. Anne.  He’s awfully shy, isn’t he? Mr. Frank.  You’ll like him, I know. Anne.  I certainly hope so, since he’s the only boy I’m likely to see for months and months. [MR. FRANK sits down, taking off his shoes.] Mr. Frank.  Anneke, there’s a box there. Will you open it? [He indicates a carton on the couch. ANNE brings it to the center table. In the street below there is the sound of children playing.] Anne.  [As she opens the carton] You know the way I’m going to think of it here? I’m going to think of it as a boarding house. A peculiar summer boarding house, like the one that we—[She breaks off as she pulls out some photographs] Father! My movie stars! I was wondering where they were! I was looking for them this morning . . . and Queen Wilhelmina!13 How wonderful! Mr. Frank.  There’s something more. Go on. Look further. [He goes over to the sink, pouring a glass of milk from a thermos bottle.] Anne.  [Pulling out a pasteboard-bound book] A diary! [She throws her arms around her father] I’ve never had a diary. And I’ve always longed for one. [She looks around the room] Pencil, pencil, pencil, pencil. [She starts down the stairs] I’m going down to the office to get a pencil. Mr. Frank.  Anne! No! [He goes after her, catching her by the arm and pulling her back.] Anne.  [Startled] But there’s no one in the building now. Mr. Frank.  It doesn’t matter. I don’t want you ever to go beyond that door. Anne.  [Sobered] Never . . . ? Not even at nighttime, when everyone is gone? Or on Sundays? Can’t I go down to listen to the radio? Mr. Frank.  Never. I am sorry, Anneke. It isn’t safe. No, you must never go beyond that door. [For the first time ANNE realizes what “going into hiding” means.] Anne.  I see.

Mr. Frank.  It’ll be hard, I know. But always remember this, Anneke. There are no walls, there are no bolts, no locks that anyone can put on your mind. Miep will bring us books. We will read history, poetry, mythology. [He gives her the glass of milk] Here’s your milk. [With his arm about her, they go over to the couch, sitting down side by side] As a matter of fact, between us, Anne, being here has certain advantages for you. For instance, you remember the battle you had with your mother the other day on the subject of overshoes? You said you’d rather die than wear overshoes? But in the end you had to wear them? Well now, you see, for as long as we are here you will never have to wear overshoes! Isn’t that good? And the coat that you inherited from Margot, you won’t have to wear that any more. And the piano! You won’t have to practice on the piano. I tell you, this is going to be a fine life for you! [ANNE’s panic is gone. PETER appears in the doorway of his room with a saucer in his hand. He is carrying his cat.] Peter.  I . . . I . . . I thought I’d better get some water for Mouschi before . . . Mr. Frank.  Of course. [As he starts toward the sink the carillon begins to chime the hour of eight. He tiptoes to the window at the back and looks down at the street below. He turns to PETER indicating in pantomime that it is too late. PETER starts back for his room. He steps on a creaking board. The three of them are frozen for a minute in fear. As PETER starts away again, ANNE tiptoes over to him and pours some of the milk from her glass into the saucer for the cat. PETER squats on the floor, putting the milk before the cat. MR. FRANK gives ANNE his fountain pen and then goes into the room at the right. For a second ANNE watches the cat, then she goes over to the center table, and opens her diary. In the room at the right, MRS. FRANK has sat up quickly at the sound of the carillon. MR. FRANK comes in and sits down beside her on the settee,14 his arm comfortingly around her. Upstairs, in the attic room, MR. and MRS. VAN DAAN have hung their clothes in the closet and are now seated on the iron bed. MRS. VAN DAAN leans back exhausted. MR. VAN DAAN fans her with a newspaper. ANNE starts to write in her diary. The lights dim out, the curtain falls. In the darkness ANNE’s voice comes to us again, faintly at first, and then with growing strength.]

Anne’s Voice.  I expect I should be describing what it feels like to go into hiding. But I really don’t know yet myself. I only know it’s funny never to be able to go outdoors . . . never to breathe fresh air . . . never to run and shout and jump. It’s the silence in the nights that frightens me most. Every time I hear a creak in the house, or a step on the street outside, I’m sure they’re coming for us. The days aren’t so bad. At least we know that Miep and Mr. Kraler are down there below us in the office. Our protectors, we call them. I asked Father what would happen to them if the Nazis found out they were hiding us. Pim said that they would suffer the same fate that we would . . . Imagine! They know this, and yet when they come up here, they’re always cheerful and gay as if there were nothing in the world to bother them . . . Friday, the twenty-first of August, nineteen forty-two. Today I’m going to tell you our general news. Mother is unbearable. She insists on treating me like a baby, which I loathe. Otherwise things are going better. The weather is . . . [As ANNE'S VOICE is fading out, the curtain rises on the scene.]