Pygmalion Page #7

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- Hungarian.

- Hungarian?

Yes, Hungarian,

and of royal blood.

I am Hungarian.

My blood is royal.

- Did you speak to her in Hungarian?

- I did. She was very clever.

She said, "Please speak to me in

English. I do not understand French. "

French! She pretended not to know the

difference between Hungarian and French.

- Nonsense. She knows both.

- And the blood royal, how did you find that out?

Instinct, maestro.

Instinct.

Only the Hungarian Magyar race can

produce that heir of the divine right-

those high cheekbones,

those resolute eyes.

She is... a princess.

- Now I know who it is.

- Who?

No!

Look at that profile.

It's the old duke exactly.

- What do you say, Professor?

- I?

I say an ordinary Cockney girl

out of the gutter.

- I place her in Covent Garden.

- Maestro, maestro!

You are mad on the subect

of Cockney dialects.

The London gutter

is the whole world for you.

- This girl is undoubtedly a p-

- A princess?

Hmm. Have it

your own way, maestro.

Have it your own way.

dd

dd

I say, Pick. Lock up, Will you?

I shan't be going out again.

Did Mrs. Pearce go to bed?

We shan't Want anything else, shall We?

- No, no, no.

- Mrs. Pearce will have a row if we leave these lying here.

- She'll pick 'em up. She'll think we were drunk.

- We are... slightly.

- Were there any letters?

- Didn't look.

Heavens, What an evening.

What a creW.

What silly tomfoolery.

Thank God it's all over.

- Where the devil are my slippers?

- You won your bet.

Eliza did the trick,

and something to spare.

It was interesting at first,

but afterwards I got sick of it.

The whole thing's been

a perfect bore.

- The reception was frightfully exciting.

- For the first three minutes.

But as soon as I saw we were going

to win hands down, I lost interest.

No more artificial duchesses for me-

They're there, are they?

I must say,

Eliza did it awfully well.

Lots of real people

can't do it at all.

The silly fools don't even know

their own silly business.

That's all over. Now I can go to bed

without dreading tomorrow.

I shall turn in too. Still,

it's been a great triumph for you.

Yes, it has, noW.

- Good night. Good night, Eliza.

- Good night.

dd

dd

Put out the lights, Eliza. And tell Mrs.

Pearce not to bring me coffee in the morning.

I'll take tea.

dd

Where on Earth

did I put my slippers?

There are your slippers!

And there!

Take your slippers! And may you

never have a day's luck with them!

What's the matter? Anything wrong?

No, nothing wrong with you.

I've won your bet for you, haven't I?

That's all that counts.

I don't matter,

I suppose.

You won my bet? You?

You presumptuous insect, I won it.

Why did you throw

those slippers at me?

Because I wanted

to smash your face in.

I'd like to kill you,

you brute.

Why didn't you leave me

where you found me, in the gutter?

You thank God it's all over and

that you can throw me back again there.

Well, well, well,

the creature is nervous after all.

Would you? Don't you dare show your

temper to me! Sit down and be quiet!

What's to become of me?

What's to become of me?

How the devil do I know? What does

it matter what becomes of you?

You don't care. I know you don't care.

You wouldn't care if I was dead.

- I'm nothing to you, not so much as them slippers.

- "Those" slippers.

Those... slippers.

Didn't think it made

any difference now.

- May I ask whether you complain of your treatment here?

- No.

Has anyone behaved

badly to you?

- Colonel Pickering, Mrs. Pearce, any of the servants?

- No.

I presume you don't pretend

that I've treated you badly.

- No.

- Ah. Well, I'm glad to hear that anyway.

Probably you're tired

after the strain of the day.

- Here. Have a chocolate.

- No!

- No?

- No! Thank you.

Well, it's all over now.

There's nothing more to worry about.

No.

Nothing more

for you to worry about.

Oh, God...

I wish I was dead.

Why?

In Heaven's name, why?

Now, listen to me, Eliza.

All this irritation

is purely subective.

I don't understand.

I'm too ignorant.

It's only imagination,

low spirits, nothing more.

Nobody's trying to hurt you.

Nothing's wrong.

Now, you go to bed like a good girl

and sleep it off.

Have a little cry and say your prayers

and... that'll make you comfortable.

I heard your prayers-

"Thank God

it's all over. "

Well, don't you thank God it's all over?

You're free. You can do what you like.

What am I fit for?

What have you left me fit for?

Where am I to go?

What am I to do?

What's to become of me?

Oh, so that's what's

worrying you, is it?

Oh, you'll settle down

somewhere or other.

But I hadn't

quite realized...

that you were going away.

You might marry, you know.

You're not bad-looking.

It's quite a pleasure

to look at you sometimes.

Of course, now you've been crying, you

look as ugly as the very devil, but...

when you're quite all right

and yourself,

you're what I

should call attractive.

That is, to people in

the marrying line,you understand.

Now, you go to bed

and have a good night's rest.

Get up in the morning and look at yourself

in the glass, and you won't feel so cheap.

I daresay my mother could find

some chap or other who'd do very well.

- We were above that in Covent Garden.

- What do you mean?

I sold flowers.

I didn't sell myself.

Now you've made a lady of me,

I'm not fit to sell anything else.

I wish you'd left me

where you found me.

But you don't have to marry the fellow

if you don't like him.

- What else am I to do?

- Lots of things.

How about your old idea of a florist

shop? Pickering could set you up.

He's got lots of money.

Oh, you'll be all right.

I must clear off to bed.

I'm devilish sleepy.

By the way, I came here for something.

I forget what it was.

Your slippers.

Oh, yes, of course.

You shied them at me.

- Before you go, sir-

- Eh?

Do my clothes belong to me

or to Colonel Pickering?

What use should they be

to Pickering?

You might want them for the next girl

you pick up to experiment on.

Is that the way

you feel towards us?

I don't want to hear

any more about that.

All I want to know is what belongs to me

and what doesn't. My own clothes were burned.

What's it matter? Why start bothering

about that in the middle of the night?

I want to know what I

may take away with me.

- I don't want to be accused of stealing.

- Stealing?

Eliza, you shouldn't have said that.

That shows a want of feeling.

I'm sorry. I'm only a common,

ignorant girl.

And in my station,

I have to be careful.

There can't be any feelings between

the like of you and the like of me.

Will you please tell me

what belongs to me and what doesn't?

Oh, you can keep the whole

confounded houseful if you like.

All except the ewels. They're hired.

Will that satisfy you?

Stop, please. Will you take these

to your room and keep them safe?

- I don't want to run the risk

of them being missing.

Hand 'em over.

If these belonged to me instead of the eweler,

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