An American in Paris Page #6

This is our last night in Paris.

We are driving to Le Havre

at dawn to get married.

And then we leave for America.

Well, that sounds

very romantic.

Let's dance, Henri.

Nice to have met you.

I'll see you later.

That little advice I gave you

this afternoon.

- It worked out fine?

- It worked out great.

Good!

- Haven't I seen that girl before?

- I don't know.

Her face seems very familiar.

Quite a nice boy. He's a painter.

A friend of Adam's.

- Are you all right?

- Yes, Henri.

Milo, I'm a fake.

I'm not full of life and good spirits.

It's just the reverse.

I shouldn't have

brought you tonight. I'm sorry.

That girl.

In the nightclub.

I'm in love with her.

I think I need some champagne.

I didn't know you were

getting married so quickly.

I couldn't tell you.

- Tomorrow?

- Yes.

It's so dreadful

standing next to you like this...

...and not having

your arms around me.

You'll always be

standing next to me, Lise.

Maybe not always.

Paris has ways

of making people forget.

Paris? No. Not this city.

It's too real and too beautiful.

Never lets you forget anything.

Reaches in and opens you wide...

...and you stay that way.

I know.

I came to Paris to study

and to paint it...

...because Utrillo did

and Lautrec did and Rouault did.

I loved what they created...

...and I thought something

would happen to me too.

It happened, all right.

Now what have I got left?

Paris.

Maybe that's enough for some,

but it isn't for me anymore.

Because the more beautiful

everything is...

...the more it'll hurt without you.

Don't let me leave you this way.

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