An American in Paris Page #4

Madame, you're delicious!

One's company, two's a crowd.

You get it?

Disappear!

Don't you see I'm busy?

Hit the boulevard!

Look! One hand.

Hello. What's new?

Who is this?

- Guess.

- Oh, Adam!

You always call at the wrong moment.

Wrong moment? You make me feel

like a rejected child.

When's the new number

going into the show?

The new number goes in tonight.

What? Tonight, Henri?

Yes, darling, tonight.

Are you having a party?

Need an extra man?

No, I was talking to Lise,

my dinner guest.

Give me a rundown on that menu.

What're you having to eat?

Magnificent pheasant.

I can drop everything

and be up in ten minutes.

That is, if I'm not intruding.

No, no. I see you later at the cafe.

Goodbye.

I'm hungry.

That Adam.

He'll never change.

What's the matter, darling?

Can't you come tonight?

If you can't,

it's all right, darling.

Don't worry.

- No. Of course, I want to come.

- You are a doll.

Would you...

Yes, thank you.

I wasn't sure you'd come.

I thought maybe you said yes

to get rid of me.

Not that it would have.

What would you like?

Would you mind if we didn't sit here?

- Why, no.

- Anything wrong, "monsieur"?

I'm sorry.

That's all right. I didn't feel

like sitting there anyhow.

Let's walk along the river.

All right.

I have a big thing for this spot.

One of these days

I'll paint it.

You're a painter?

You don't look like a painter.

There are those who'll say

I don't paint like one either.

But that doesn't bother me.

Discouragement stimulates me.

That much about you, I know.

Yes, you do, don't you?

But mark me well,

one of these days...

...the world will ring

with the name Mulligan.

Picasso will be remembered

as the forerunner of Mulligan.

This tree will be famous because

it was painted by Mulligan.

And when will this

golden age of art be?

Well, it's hard to say.

It's hard to say.

Civilization has a natural resistance

against improving itself.

It might take quite a while.

Quite a while.

- How do you feel now?

- Why?

A moment ago you were acting like

the police were after you.

I was, wasn't I?

Why?

No. Never mind, never mind.

Don't try to think up

what to tell me.

I don't have to know.

It's your business.

Candy. Would you like some?

I couldn't eat a whole one.

Go ahead. Try.

The night's young.

We should live dangerously.

Tell me some more.

Well...

...in America,

Saturday night's the big night.

No work, no school...

...when you get home, no money.

And Sunday?

Is Sunday nice in America?

In America, everybody

catches cold on Sunday.

- Did you?

- Well, sometimes. Sometimes.

What about you? Aren't you sick

of the life and times of Mulligan?

I'd rather listen to you.

I don't like to talk about myself.

- You'll have to get over that.

- Why?

With a binding like you've got...

...people will want

to know what's in the book.

What does that mean?

Well, primarily, it means

you're a very pretty girl.

- I am?

- Yes, you are.

How do you know?

I heard it on the radio.

Making fun with me.

Doesn't everybody tell you that?

I haven't been out with many people.

And always friends.

Honey, believe me, I'm no enemy.

I don't know if you're

a girl of mystery...

...or just a still water

that doesn't run deep...

...but there's one

thing I can tell you.

If I'd been around sooner,

you'd know by now that...

...you're very pretty.

And I'm not making fun with you.

- What time is it?

- Eleven o'clock.

- Eleven! I have to go.

- Where?

- When will I see you again?

- I don't know.

Lise, we have to

see each other again.

Yes, we do, don't we?

Tomorrow night.

- No, I can't. How about lunch?

- No. I can't.

Saturday morning I'm at

the Ecole des Beaux-Arts.

- I'm finished at noon. Meet me there?

- Saturday. Yes, I will.

How are you?

I am delighted.

It's a wonderful idea.

I'm so sorry.

Lise, I have wonderful news.

This, I take it, is the young

lady who'll do all the deciding.

That's right.

This is John MacDowd,

my favorite American impresario.

- How do you do?

- How do you do?

I've been trying to persuade Henri

to come to America...

...and give us Yanks a break.

He says he has to

talk it over with you.

You make him do it, Miss Lise.

- I'll call you in a few days.

- That's all right.

And may I say, your Lise certainly

lives up to your advertisements.

Thank you, Johnny.

Good night.

- I'm sorry, but the movie...

- Never mind the movie.

What do think of the news?

John wants me to go

on an American tour.

We could get married

and go together.

Doesn't that sound wonderful?

- When would you go?

- Not for a few weeks.

John will have to

see first about bookings.

But it could be beautiful.

A honeymoon on the boat...

...then America.

You'll love the Americans.

- Your limousine is here, sir.

- Thanks.

This sponsor of yours...

...what does she want

from you in return?

-Don't tell me. I shock easily.

-You're crazy. She isn't interested in me.

She's just a goodhearted kid

who likes the way I paint.

That's real dreamy of her.

Tell me, when you get married...

...will you keep your maiden name?

Hello, Therese.

"Monsieur" Jerry, don't pay

any attention to Monsieur Cook.

I don't intend to.

Suppose you do have to make

love to the lady?

It's all for the sake of art.

I don't have to make love...

Bravo!

Colossal! Encore!

Encore! "Magnifique"! Bravo!

Who are we seeing here?

Never you mind.

Wait and see.

What is all this?

Your studio.

Isn't it beautiful?

I've got a studio.

Well, yes, I know, Jerry,

but you need space.

This isn't to live in,

it's to work in.

I can't afford a joint like this.

Why do you make

such an issue of money?

Because I ain't got any...

...and when you ain't got any,

it takes on a curious significance.

Don't be silly.

You'll be able to pay me back.

In three months.

Three months?

What do you mean?

That's the real surprise.

Your exhibition at

the Parmentier Galleries.

My exhibition in three months?

Already they're

arranging posters...

Wait a minute, hold everything.

Sit down and let's see

if I can explain this to you.

More than anything,

I want to have an exhibition.

But when I'm ready.

When my stuff is good enough

to show to the public and critics.

You can't set a production date

for a thing like that.

Don't you understand?

I'm not manufacturing paper cups.

I do understand, Jerry.

But you're a painter and you want

people to see what you've painted.

I want that too.

Give me an opportunity to provide

a decent show at a decent gallery...

...where people can see your things.

Is that so extraordinary?

Look, you're a painter

and a good one.

I happen to have a little drive.

That's a good combination.

Besides, you have to

face the critics sometime.

Yeah, but three months.

Of course, it'll be work.

Hard work.

That doesn't matter.

I'll do it.

On one condition.

I pay you back.

Jerry, I'm so glad.

I would have died if you'd said no.

- Did you think I wasn't coming?

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