Love in the Afternoon Page #6

Oh, that one.

Do you remember where we put it?

Where did we put it? In the closet?

This closet?

- Yes, Papa.

- All right. Let's see.

Well! What do we have here?

What?

What does it look like?

- A cello, Papa.

- Of course! Now let's be logical.

If the cello is where the fur coat was...

...where do you suppose the fur coat is?

- Where?

- Think.

Where the cello was?

In here?

Let us see.

You're very good! Bravo!

Thank you, Papa.

Now let us probe a little further.

Who, in your opinion, did it,

and what was the motive?

Papa, don't you think this is enough

for one lesson?

All right, Ariane, why did you take it?

- I didn't take it. I borrowed it.

- Why?

Why, why? Always "Why?"

Why do I have to be

a detective's daughter?

Why do I have to be questioned,

cross- examined, investigated?

The motive, please.

I took it to the conservatory

to show it to the girls in class.

Because they'd never seen

an ermine coat before.

That's all there is to it, Papa.

That's the motive.

You caused me

a great deal of embarrassment.

My client came by to pick it up,

almost walked out with the cello.

I'm sorry, Papa.

I only had it on for a few minutes.

His wife will never know.

He's not giving it to his wife,

after all.

That's mean. Why not?

It seems she came back

from a vacation in Spain...

...wearing one of those bracelets

around her leg.

What do you call it?

- An anklet?

- That's right, an anklet.

It's driving him crazy, out of his mind.

It is?

She says she got it from her sister,

but that's ridiculous.

From a sister you get an umbrella,

or an eggbeater, but not an anklet.

There is something very provocative

about an anklet.

That so?

So now he's going to have

the sleeves lengthened again...

...and give it back to his secretary.

- You know, I've been thinking.

- What about?

That Alpine guide.

Who?

The one with the leather pants

and the flower behind the ear.

Oh, him!

Those other guys, export- import,

and the duke, they don't mean a thing.

But that character with the bare knees,

he bothers me.

He should.

He had the cutest dimples, right here.

His name was Sebastian.

I know how those jokers operate.

They get you on top of some glacier...

...point out the sunset,

and suddenly, like an avalanche...

Not at all, Mr. Flannagan.

He was a perfect gentleman.

- He used to kiss my hand.

- The old mountain- climbing technique.

Working your way from crag to crag.

Would you pass me the salt, please?

- Put that chicken leg away.

- I'm hungry.

Put it away!

Yes, Mr. Flannagan.

- Any particular place?

- Put it away!

All right, Mr. Flannagan.

- What's that?

- What's what?

That.

- That's an anklet.

- New?

No, it's platinum.

I never noticed it before.

I only wear it

when I don't have stockings on.

- Where did you get it?

- In Spain.

From whom?

An anklet isn't exactly something

you get from a sister.

A man?

I'll say. He was a bullfighter.

A bullfighter?

His name was Sebastian.

What's this with you

and those Sebastians?

I mean, his name was Michel,

but it happened in San Sebastin.

It happened in San Sebastin.

Any dimples on his knees?

No, just scars.

He was very brave

and he had the narrowest hips.

You should have seen him in the ring,

he had more grace, more style...

- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that.

- Did I say anything wrong?

It's just that I don't

like anklets on women.

- You don't?

- I think they're very vulgar.

Well, why didn't you say so?

It doesn't mean that much to me.

Not any more.

Cheer up, Mr. Flannagan.

What's the matter?

Relax ez- vous.

How many others were there?

Others?

Men. How many other men were there?

You mean before I met you,

or since I met you, or altogether?

You know what I mean.

Well, it's not easy,

you sort of catch me unprepared.

How many?

Maybe I could give you

an approximate figure.

That wouldn't satisfy somebody

with a business mind like yours.

Come on, quit stalling!

If it's any comfort to you,

Mr. Flannagan...

...you are the first

American in my life.

Well, that's something.

Of course, there was a Canadian.

A Canadian?

Very cute.

Cute? With dimples on his knees?

- No dimples. Definitely not.

- Scars, maybe?

No. Just a silver plate

in his right knee.

He'd been in a bad spill.

He was a professional ice-hockey

player, very high scorer.

You talk too much.

Ariane, I must talk to you!

Give me an "A."

Ariane, no matter how much

he loves you, I love you more.

I'm sure of it. As a matter of fact,

he doesn't love me at all.

- He doesn't?

- No.

No. At least, not yet.

What do you mean, not yet?

He doesn't believe in it.

He's above it.

He considers himself invulnerable.

But I think I've hit the spot.

What spot?

He can be jealous,

and that's a very good sign.

What are you talking about?

They're very odd people.

When they're young,

they've their teeth straightened...

...their tonsils taken out and

gallons of vitamins pumped into them.

Something happens to their insides.

They become immunized, mechanized,

air- conditioned and hydromatic.

I'm not even sure

whether he has a heart.

What is he...

...a creature from outer space?

No, he's an American.

Where is my other shoe?

This is ridiculous.

Couldn't have just walked

away by itself.

Relax.

It'll show up sooner or later.

It's 5:
45. I'm late.

Come on, don't just lie there,

help me.

Glad to.

You sure you had them both on

when you came?

Quite sure.

It's funny how things

keep disappearing around here.

Like that slipper.

I couldn't find it for a whole week.

I can't show up in just one shoe.

Why not? You have a

very handsome foot.

It's too big.

It's perfect. As a matter of fact,

everything about you is perfect.

I'm too thin, and my ears stick out,

and my teeth are crooked...

...and my neck's much too long.

Maybe so, but I love the

way it all hangs together.

I must find my shoe.

It's that Parisian thing you've got,

that certain quelque chose...

...as they say on the Left Bank,

that piquant soupon of aperitif.

Mr. Flannagan, you're wanted upstairs.

How many men have told you that?

Come on, how many?

The telephone, Mr. Flannagan.

Don't move.

Hello? Yes?

Who? Ingrid?

Oh, it's you, Dagmar.

Are you both on the phone?

Where are you calling from, Stockholm?

You're in Paris. Well, look, I'm...

I can't talk very well, it's kind of awkward.

No, it's nothing like that.

It's just that the bathtub's running over.

I'll turn it off!

Wait! Look, suppose I call you back?

How long are you going to be in Paris?

Just overnight?

Dear Mr. Flannagan:

In reply to your inquiry...

...as to the number of men in my life,

here is an itemized list...

...to the best of my recollection.

Item 1:
A redheaded algebra teacher.

Item 2:
A very sweet boy who is now...

...a missionary in French Equatorial Africa.

Item 3:
A riding instructor...

...formerly a Cossack.

Look, I'll have the chauffeur pick you up,

say around 8:
30.

Skol.

Item 17:
A Yugoslav sculptor.

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