Breakfast at Tiffany's Page #9

not to condemn me.

"I have my family to protect

and my name

"and I am a coward where

these institutions enter.

"Forget me, beautiful child.

And may God be with you.

"Jos."

Well?

Well, at least he's honest.

-It's kind of touching.

-Touching?

That square-ball jazz.

He says he's a coward.

All right. So he's not a regular rat

or even a super-rat.

He's just a scared little mouse,

that's all.

But, oh, golly.

Gee, damn.

Well, so much for South America.

I didn't really think you were cut out

to be queen of the Pampas, anyway.

-Clayton Hotel.

-Idlewild.

What?

The plane leaves at 12:00.

And on it I plan to be.

Holly, you can't.

I'm not hotfooting it after Jos,

if that's what you think. Oh, no.

As far as I'm concerned,

he's the future president of nowhere.

Only why should I waste

a perfectly good plane ticket?

Besides, I've never been to Brazil.

Please, darling, don't sit there

looking at me like that.

I'm going and that's all there is to it.

Now all they want from me

are my services as the state's witness

against Sally.

Nobody has any intention

of prosecuting me.

To begin with,

they don't have a ghost of a chance.

Even so, this town's finished for me.

At least for a while.

There are certain shades of limelight

that can wreck a girl's complexion.

They'll have the rope up

at every saloon in town.

I'll tell you what you do for me, darling.

When you get back to town,

I want you to call up the

New York Times or whoever you call.

I want you to mail me a list

of the 50 richest men in Brazil.

The 50 richest.

-Holly, I'm not going to let you do this.

-You're not going to let me?

Holly, I'm in love with you.

-So what?

-So what?

So plenty.

-I love you. You belong to me.

-No.

-People don't belong to people.

-Of course they do.

I'm not gonna let anyone

put me in a cage.

I don't want to put you in a cage.

I want to love you.

-It's the same thing.

-No, it's not.

-Holly...

-I'm not Holly.

I'm not Lulamae, either.

I don't know who I am.

I'm like cat, here.

We're a couple of no-name slobs.

We belong to nobody.

And nobody belongs to us.

We don't even belong to each other.

Stop the cab.

What do you think?

This ought to be the right kind of place

for a tough guy like you.

Garbage cans, rats galore.

Scram!

I said take off! Beat it!

Let's go.

Driver

pull over here.

You know what's wrong with you,

Miss Whoever-you-are?

You're chicken. You've got no guts.

You're afraid to stick out your chin

and say, "Okay, life's a fact."

People do fall in love.

People do belong to each other

because that's the only chance

anybody's got for real happiness.

You call yourself a free spirit,

a wild thing.

And you're terrified somebody's

going to stick you in a cage.

Well, baby, you're already in that cage.

You built it yourself.

And it's not bounded in the west

by Tulip, Texas

or in the east by Somaliland.

It's wherever you go.

Because no matter where you run,

you just end up running into yourself.

Here. I've been carrying this thing

around for months.

I don't want it any more.

Here, cat!

Cat!

Where's the cat?

I don't know.

Cat!

Cat.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes