The Immortal Story Page #3

that the pursuit of a story

is even more interesting

than the pursuit of money.

Do you want a receipt?

No, Miss Virginie.

Young sailor!

My master here in this carriage

wishes to speak to you.

He says, would you like

to earn 5 Guineas tonight?

Come!

You're a fine looking sailor.

Would you like to earn

5 Guineas tonight?

You're a fine looking sailor,

my young friend.

Would you like to earn

5 Guineas tonight?

Yes, I want to earn 5 Guineas.

I was thinking about it just now...

in what way I was to earn 5 Guineas.

Get into my carriage.

I'll tell you more at my house.

No. Your carriage is too fine.

My clothes are too dirty and tarred.

I shall run beside.

And I can go as fast as you can.

He's young, eh Levinsky?

He's full of the juices of life.

He has blood in him.

I suppose he's got tears.

He longs... yearns...

for the things which dissolve people...

For friendship and love.

Such things, a man's bones have dissolved.

Once I broke with a partner of mine

when I wouldn't allow him to become my friend.

It dissolved my bones.

- Do you think he's ever seen gold?

- He will have heard of it.

Hold out your hand.

That's what you're going to earn tonight.

It's a 5 Guinnea piece.

It's gold.

And gold, my young sailor:

it's solid. It's hard.

It's proof against dissolution.

You're a poor sailor

and I'm a rich old man.

My name in China is worth more

money than you've ever heard of.

In America, when they name me

they name a million dollars.

That million dollars, that's me...

myself... my days... my years.

My life.

And soon the time will come when

one half of me must go

and the other half,

my million dollars, will live on.

But where?

It occurs to me that

it might give me pleasure

to leave my possessions to a child.

A child which I myself

have caused to exist.

Caused to exist as

I've begotten my fortune.

The starving coolies in the tea fields,

they didn't know they were

contributing to the making of it.

For them, it was only the pain in their hands

and the poor copper coins of their wages.

In my brain and by my will, many...

...things were brought together

to make up one single thing.

A million dollars.

I'm not just now in the habit

of talking to rich old people.

To tell you the truth, old master,

I'm not just now in the habit

of talking to anyone at all.

A fortnight ago,

when the scooner picked me up,

I hadn't spoken a word for a whole year.

My own ship went down in a storm.

And, of all her crew, I alone

was cast ashore on an island.

Tonight, it's no more than three weeks

since I walked down

the beach of my island.

Yes...

All of this must be a change for you.

Yes, this house is very different

from my island.

Well, I'll soon get used to

talking again. I've talked before.

- I'm not such a fool as I look.

- No, my young friend.

I'm gonna tell you why I fetched you here.

I know.

I know what you're going to tell me old

master. I've heard it before: every word.

It's hard on you being so old and dry.

But I shall know well enough

what I'm doing.

- He's very young, is he?

- The sailor boy? Oh, yes!

Mr. Clay is highly satisfied with

his catch on the behalf of Macao.

Very likely, there's not another fish

of just that kind to be caught there.

But if he stays until dawn,

he'll see the truth on my face:

that it's old!

Mr. Clay and the sailor boy

are making ready.

- Old and powdered and ruined...

- They are entertaining one another.

Just as you are now preparing

yourself for your own part.

- The heroine's part in Mr. Clay's story.

- Yes?

The story is making headway.

But one way or another, you said,

it's going to be the end of him.

No man in the world can take

a story which people have invented

nd told and make it happen.

Do you think he's going to die

tonight? In his malice?

Add up a column of figures.

You start at the lowest

figure and move left.

But if a man took it into his head

to add up a column the other way,

from the left, what would he find?

His total would come out

wrong, Miss Virginie. Hmm?

His account books

would be worth nothing.

Mr. Clay's total will come out

wrong and be worth nothing.

These shells. I picked them up

every morning along the shore.

I'm going to take them to Denmark.

They're the only things

I've got to take home with me.

Some are beautiful... perhaps even rare.

What did you think about at night?

Of a boat, mostly.

A good, strong, sea-worthy boat.

She needn't be big.

No more than five per stage.

And when I met you tonight old gentleman

and you asked me if I'd earn 5 Guineas,

- that was why I went with you.

- Didn't you think about women?

Yes.

On the ships I've sailed on,

the others talked about their girls.

I know. I know very well what

you're paying me to do tonight.

I'm as good as any sailor.

You'd have no reason to complain of me.

Your lady waiting here for me. She

would have no reason to complain of me.

All the same, I may as well

now go back to my ship.

And you, my old gentleman, will

take on another sailor for you job.

No. I don't want you

to go back to your ship.

You... you've been cast

away on a desert island.

You haven't spoken to

a human being for a year.

I'd hate to think about that.

I'll take no other sailor for my job.

And your boat?

Thank you, old master,

for the food and the wine.

Is there a boat you want to buy?

- Good night, old gentleman.

- How are you going to buy it?

Now you've given back your

5 Guinnea piece and going away.

That boat will never

come to be launched.

It will never come to sail.

This was my father's bedroom.

I was allowed to play

here on Sunday mornings.

He seems so far away, my father.

He's back with me tonight.

I've entered this old house with his consent.

I was a little girl the last time

I looked in this mirror.

I used to ask it to show me what

I'd be like in years to come.

I think for the first time in his life,

Mr. Clay will be impressed

- by a woman's beauty.

- He mustn't look at me.

- How can he help it?

- I mustn't look at him.

It's the time for acting the story.

He will be coming soon.

No, no. I dare not.

Let me go. Please let me go.

He's paid you, Miss Virginie.

Mr. Levinsky!

My father...

on the last day of his life...

an hour or so, before he killed himself,

he called me to him.

All our misery had risen from the moment

he first set eyes on the face of Mr. Clay,

so he bound me by a solemn vow,

never... in any place or

under any circumstance...

to look into that face again.

You will not have to look at it.

The downcast eyes of

the heroine in the story

will bear witness to her modesty.

Who knows?

The prophet Isaiah may now

have laid hands on his head

and turned Mr. Clay into a child.

Perhaps he's beginning

to play with his story.

I may play with it, too.

How do you know I won't set

fire to this house in the morning

before I leave it again...

and burn your master in it?

I know this much:

I've been with him for seven years

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