The Barefoot Contessa Page #9

Very good. Alberto is

having a fantastic bank

It's about time

Last night that Greek took him

for a whole South American jungle

You know something? Off the screen

I don't think I've

seen you laugh before

I feel very good tonight

Every night's like every other night

- No, not tonight

- What's different?

I don't know. Something

in the way my heart beats

As if something very good were

going to come out of tonight

Something's coming tonight, all

right, but it's not good. He's mad

I've seen him like this before

He's half-crazy when

he gets like this

How do I find the words

to tell you what you are?

To begin with, a thief. You took

money from me when I was playing

When I was winning.

It changed my luck

You have cost me millions

and millions of francs

You put a curse on me,

not only for tonight

but from the unhappy moment

I knew of your existence

As you will put a curse always on

everyone and everything near to you

- Maybe you can talk this over

in private - Let him, Oscar

Next, you are not a woman

I do not know what you

are, but you are not a woman

You will not let yourself

be loved. You cannot love

Once, you had the look

for me of an exquisite lady

Now I do not see that look

I only see that you have

the body of an animal

A dead animal

I have paid for your company and

you will come and go as I tell you

Monsieur. Permit me

- Is the gigolo known to anyone?

- He is known to me

His name is Vincenzo,

Conte Torlato-Favrini

He is not a gigolo

He is less a gigolo than

anyone in our immediate company

Surely less than anyone you will

ever have the good fortune to meet

He certainly acts high

and mighty for just a count

My dear Lulu, there

are counts and counts

just as there are kings and kings

Among the counts,

Torlato-Favrini is a king

Just as among the

kings, I am a clown

I am puzzled only by his

presence in a place like this

among people like us

My champagne is not properly cooled

Alberto, do you happen to know

the Marquise de Baudenire?

A really distinguished family...

And that was the last I

ever saw of Maria Vargas

whom the world knew as Maria D'Amata

but who died as the

Contessa Torlato-Favrini

Che sar, sar.

What will be, will be

An ancient and

unimaginative Italian proverb

It has been the motto of my

house for more than 450 years

And it is only fitting perhaps

that as the House of

Torlato-Favrini comes to its end

our motto will never

be more to the point

What will be, will be

An easy generality. A universal cure

I am what I am, do what I

do, and cannot help myself

Therefore, I am free of my guilt

Nonsense, of course

Yet, I can suggest no other

answer, if there must be an answer

to how and why it began

between Maria and me

I was driving, as I had for

countless times before that time

I was driving somewhere, anywhere

just to be away from the restlessness

of nights after nights without sleep

and the empty dawns

that followed them

But why, of all the somewheres

and anywheres in the world

should I, that time, have crossed

the border from Italy to France?

Of all directions, why

should I have chosen one

leading to that parade

ground of vulgarity

which lies between Nice and Cannes?

Che sar, sar

She looked at me for no

longer than the beat of a heart

and I knew I would remember

her as long as I lived

That was my meeting with Maria

It occurs to me just now that,

oddly, we have never talked about it

But no more odd, surely,

than my driving away that day

away from her, knowing that

inevitably, we would meet again

And it was late that night in,

of all places, a gambling casino

when I saw Maria again

To begin with, a thief. You took

money from me when I was playing

When I was winning.

It changed my luck

You have cost me millions

and millions of francs

You put a curse on me,

not only for tonight

but from the unhappy moment

I knew you existed

As you will put a curse

always on everyone near to you

- Maybe you can talk this over

in private - Let him, Oscar

Next, you are not a woman

I do not know what you are,

but you are not a woman

You will not let yourself

be loved. You cannot love

Once, you had the look

for me of an exquisite lady

Now I do not see that look

I see only that you have

the body of an animal

A dead animal

I have paid for your company and

you will come and go as I tell you

Monsieur. Permit me

I cannot remember much of

that shabby little scene

except for some cheap

heroics on my part

But I do remember that Maria

seemed unsurprised at my being there

That she left with me without question

As if she had been waiting for me

Thank you. I do not smoke

What is your name?

Maria Vargas

Are you Spanish?

But I live in America. I work there

What is your work? Are you

a professional entertainer?

In a way. Perhaps not in

the way that you think

You have no way of knowing

the way that I think

Where are we going?

First, to your hotel,

so that you can pack

- And then? - To Rapallo.

Do you know where it is?

In Italy

- Why to Rapallo?

- I live there

And did you drive here

today from Rapallo?

- Mm-hm

- Why?

To bring you back with me

Oh, I think not

My name is Vincenzo Torlato-Favrini

And what are you doing here...

besides having come for me?

There is no other reason

Tell me, do you see many movies?

Oh, very few. A good foreign film

now and then... American or English

Then perhaps you read

many cheap novels?

I understand

You would be justified

in asking also

whether I am addicted to narcotics

I have told you the complete truth

- You have never seen me

before today? - Never

- But you have known about me?

- No

Then you left Rapallo to find

and to bring back someone you

had never seen or heard about?

No. I left my home simply

because I had to leave

It has happened many times before

There is, perhaps,

an explanation for it

But I will not attempt

one here and now

When did you know that

you had come for me?

When you knew, too

For the first time, when we looked

at each other in the Gypsy camp

and again at the window of the casino

and again, just now, when

I held out my hand to you

You knew, as well as I.

It won't take me long to pack

Torlatos, Favrinis, and Torlato-Favrinis

When my sister and I are extinct

perhaps they will name

automobiles after us

The Torlatos and the Favrinis

will be speedy little cars

and the Torlato-Favrini

a limousine, of course

This was Beatrice Favrini

How strange, to be painted

with a little boy and a sword

The little boy was her son.

The sword was her husband's

It was brought to

her when he was killed

in a stupid war

between Italian cities

My own husband was

killed in this last war

I have neither his

child nor his sword

He was blown up at sea. I

do not have even his cadaver

Eleonora...

But perhaps you should

tell the story, Vincenzo

of a "happy" ancestor

- Francesco the Fat, for instance

- Francesco can wait

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