Amina Persa Page #6

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You're thinking of poor Beba...

that I let her die...

You think I let her die,

that I'm a crazy criminal...

You didn't let anyone die.

Beba isn't dead.

Isn't she?

Where is she then?

Perhaps she's sick.

She may be in a hospital or...

- Or..

- Or she's hiding in here.

That's right.

Why couldn't she be

right here?

You were here looking for her.

Am I right?

But as you can see

she's not in this room.

But...

wait a moment...

She may be in another room.

Let's see.

She can't hear.

Let's try louder.

- Let's call her,Tino.

- I'm going.

No. I'm afraid

you can't leave now.

Now...

After all that has happened...

consumatum est.

Come here.

Can you hear her?

She's coming up.

Here she is.

Come.

Don't be afraid.

Come closer.

You shouldn't have...

you shouldn't have told him.

Your tutu,Beba...

your ballet shoes

- I can't wear them any more.

- Why?

They don't fit any more.

I'm a big girl now.

- Try them on.

- You know I can't.

Stop it, Fabio!

It's absurd...totally absurd.

Then, Beba...

I loved her

while she was a child...

while she was innocent,

for youth is innocent.

I wanted to make her youth

last for ever.

But everything decays,

becomes corrupt.

She grew up...

became someone else...

and killed my little girl.

The little girl I loved.

Any messages for Mr Sattin

I'll send him a letter.

I've realised I'm no painter.

- Pity. Painters earn heaps.

- The good ones do.

A picture by me isn't worth

the canvas it's painted on.

- Where are you going?

- Back home.

- Bye. Write to me.

- What's your address?

- What?

- Your address?

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