The Prince and the Showgirl Page #4

Just a touch more on the cheeks too, I think.

And don't make mischief between me

and Madame Bernhardt now, or I shall be cross.

A little vague.

Doesn't she mind about you and me?

Isn't she your wife's mother?

My wife and I were married. . .

. . .to reinforce her trade agreement

with Hungary.

I accepted her because

the emperor told me to.

For ten years we were utterly

devoted to each other. . .

. . .with never an unkind word

on either side.

How could there be any question. . .

. . .of anyone minding anything

in such circumstances?

Well, I find your life shocking.

Why?

-There's no love in it.

-Nothing?

Oh, yes, Maisie Springfields

by the dozens.

But I mean. . .

. . .real love.

-Excuse me.

-Oh, no!

Not again.

Riots?

My dear fellow,

there is no need to panic.

The new chief of police

is a good man that I trust.

No!

-Well, my dear. . . .

-Well?

Wouldn't you be

more comfortable on the sofa?

You could put your feet up there

and rest.

No, thank you. I think

I'll stay right where I am.

Just as you please.

My dear, it was so good of you

to come and see me here tonight.

-You said that before.

-Oh, did I?

That is a beautiful dress.

You said that before too.

What does it matter?

What are words where deeds

can say so much more?

That's just terrible!

-What is it?

-That performance of yours.

I fear I do not altogether

understand you.

Now, don't pull the grand duke

with me.

You made a pass

and I turned it down, that's all.

We can still be friendly.

Excuse me.

Say, I could use a short one.

I need it for my heart.

It's beating down here.

-I'm so sorry.

-It's all right. Not your fault.

If I'd known this was all

that would happen. . .

. . .I wouldn't even have been nervous.

Long life to Your Grand Highness.

Cheerio.

Better luck next time,

only not with me, of course.

Say, listen, there is

something to this stuff.

Are you sure there's no effect

when you drink it that way?

After three of them, you might

experience a certain euphoria.

I think you have had enough.

I think so too.

Want to know why

I was so nervous tonight?

I thought I'd have

a real struggle with myself.

I thought. . . .

I would have won it. I always do.

But I thought this time

he's a Hungarian prince. . .

. . .and a grand ducal. . .

. . .well, with fire and passion.

And I thought if anybody knows

about this love stuff, this guy will.

I even thought. . . .

I even thought that you'd have. . .

. . .Gypsy violins playing

somewhere outside. . .

. . .and that the lights

would be dimmed low.

And there would be strange

seductive perfume in the air.

Well, put it all together, I thought:

"Sister, you better watch your step.

You'd just better watch out. "

Do they all fall as easily as that,

those Maisies and all those others?

Before your insults grow

too great to be borne. . .

. . .I'm ringing for your motor.

Oh, no, don't do that.

I don't want you

to get your car out again.

I live way out in Brixton.

I can just walk.

You will go in the motor.

Okay, if you insist.

I'll just get my wrap.

Sorry.

Pretty good, huh?

Why am I deserted? Why is there

no one to answer the bell?

Your Grand Ducal Highness ordered

the attendants moved from the door.

See that the motor is here. . .

. . .and have Miss Marina escorted

to a place called Brixton.

As Your Grand Ducal Highness commands.

Major Domo!

Why was this room not perfumed?

Why were the lights not turned down

to give a romantic effect?

Your Grand Ducal Highness

gave no such command.

Am I to think of everything?

Have I not enough on my mind?

What are you doing?

You would lock the stable door

after the horse has bolted?

If Your Grand Ducal Highness wishes

the stable door locked, the coachman--

Dummkopf!. Do you not know

the English idiomatic phrase. . .

. . .that it is foolish to lock the

stable door after the horse has. . . .

But has it?

Give that to me.

Wait. One of my personal servants

plays the violin. Which is that?

I think it is Franz,

one of the under-valets.

-Does he play well?

-I'm tone-deaf.

-Where is he?

-In bed.

Fetch him! I want him to play his

confounded fiddle outside this door.

But don't let him begin until I ring.

Oh, hasn't the car gotten here yet?

Ah, the little bird, so anxious

to return to her nest.

Well, this is my exit, I guess.

Please, this is not quite yet goodbye.

Give me one minute to tell you. . .

. . .how deeply distressed I feel

at what has happened here.

I'm the one who should be sorry.

Let me try to explain

what is in my mind at the moment.

Won't you sit down just for a second?

I don't want to keep those drivers up.

They are used to waiting.

It is simply this, my dear.

I realize that all you have said

about my life is true.

It is quite without love.

And I'm growing into middle age.

-Oh, no!

-Almost into middle age.

Hey, I didn't ask for that!

Here am I, having reached

the age of 40--

And I have never known

what it is to love or be loved.

It is like the legend

of the sleeping princess.

Only here, it's the prince

who sleeps and awaits the kiss. . .

. . .of the beautiful young maiden

that will bring him back to life.

You want me to kiss you?

You are so literal.

It is love that I need.

The ennobling love

of a pure young woman.

Her bright faith in me as I am

and as I might yet be.

Her self-sacrifice to my little

weaknesses and desires.

For love is sacrifice, is it not?

There is the mystic kiss. . .

. . .which might bring

this sleeping prince to life.

I got you.

Do you know what your hair

reminds me of?

Summer corn kissed by the winds. . .

. . .into enchantingly exciting furrows.

Your eyes--

-Where's that music coming from?

-Music?

One of my servants, a Hungarian,

always plays at this hour.

He is lamenting his lost love.

Poor boy.

Isn't life awful?

Go back to my eyes.

Twin pools of gladness and joy. . .

. . .in which a man would be happy

to drown himself.

In both of them?

In either.

Oh, I like that.

"Twin pools. " Go on.

Your chin--

You skipped my nose because

you noticed the bump on the end?

Oh, no, no, no.

I left it out because there is

nothing to say of perfection.

Oh, that's nice.

Back to my chin.

This is what I think of your chin.

My darling.

Oh, my darling.

Oh, that poor Hungarian!

I hope he gets his love back.

Don't think of his love.

Think of ours, my darling.

Think of our love

and the beauty of our meeting here.

You like my hair?

Every hair I have is yours.

You use the wrong stuff on it though.

-What do you use?

-A little pomade.

That's where you're wrong.

You should use--

What's the name of it?

I know! Pinaud's Lilac.

I was asking you, my darling,

to remember our love.

You have pretty eyebrows.

Love! What a universe of joy and pain

lies in that little word.

-Forgive me for this intrusion.

-Intolerable!

With respect, my message is

so important, I had no choice.

-Revolution?

-No, sir.

Miss Marina's aunt has been

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