The Snows of Kilimanjaro Page #2

Before you, how many others?

That's traveling alone...

in a pig's eye.

Well, have it your way, Harry.

I'm gonna shoot some game.

The larder's almost empty.

I'll change into my boots

and call Molo.

Helen. You shouldn't pay

any attention to me really, darling.

I love you, you know.

Why, I've never loved anyone

the way I loved you.

I won't take any more, darling.

Well, before you go...

come here, hmm?

Give me a kiss.

- And leave me this.

- Harry! Why do you have to turn into a devil?

Because if I can't die happy,

I can try to die delirious.

How can I help you

if you won't help yourself?

By going to sleep?

No, thank you.

There'll be plenty of that

soon enough.

What time I've got left,

I've got plenty to think about.

I'll leave you to your thoughts.

Only this time,

try to get some of them straight.

Just go do your killing.

That's what we're good at-- both of us.

- Abdula!

- Abdula!

- Get out the Springfield!

- Get out the Springfield!

- And the solids!

- And the solids!

[ Accordion ]

[ Accordion Continues ]

[ Speaking French ]

[ French ]

- Harry!

- Emile!

[ French ]

- Bonsoir.

- Bonsoir.

Et, quelle est votre dsir?

In English, that's quite a question.

[ French ]

Now, from other sources.

[ Woman Laughing ]

- Hi, Compton.

- Harry! How's the book?

How's anybody's book?

It isn't finished.

Harry, did you quit

your job to do it?

Look, do you mind if I cut in?

- Uh-uh-uh! Forage for yourself, chum.

- [ Laughing ]

Oh, Harry, you don't stay?

It's a case of avoiding

a broken nose, Emile--

mine or old Compton's --

because a laugh like hers would

just have to lead it to a lousy fight.

Bonsoir.

[ Slow Jazz ]

Please.

Thanks. I'm Cynthia.

Cynthia Green.

Cyn. That's nice.

- When did you come in?

- Oh, minutes ago.

I'll be hanged.

The latest thing from home.

- I'm , uh--

- Harry Street, Chicago Tribune. And you write.

Ex-Chicago Tribune.

And I'm trying to write.

Well, they're telling it the other way.

Do you mind?

Well, everybody's trying

something over here.

Or at least trying to try.

What are you trying to do?

Are you trying to paint?

No, I'm not trying to paint.

- Are you trying to sculpt?

- No, I'm not trying to sculpt.

Then you must be trying

to write too.

No. I'm only trying to be happy.

Well, everybody's trying something.

I'll bet I'm the only person in the whole

darn place who's only trying to be happy.

You'd better take this from me.

I sometimes drink too much.

Anything's fair

in the pursuit of happiness.

Oh, I'm not completely idle.

I-- I pose sometimes.

In what my maiden aunt calls

"the altogether" ?

Sometimes.

We all have to make our way

with whatever we were given.

Oh, hasn't that African

got any piety at all?

Uh...

I'm remembering my manners.

Are you... Compton's lady?

No. I'm not particularly

Compton's lady.

I'm not Compton's lady at all.

I'm my own lady.

How would you like it if you and I

would just " piety" right out of here?

I expect I'd like it very much.

[ Ends ]

[ Bell Tolling ]

My father was a soldier.

He had the bad luck

to get himself killed in the Argonne.

So, after the war I came over...

to take him home to rest.

But once I saw France, I decided

that this is as good a place to rest as any...

for him and for myself.

So I stayed on.

- No mother?

- No, not for years.

I see.

Well, uh...

where shall we go

and rest right now?

Would you like to go and rest

in another bar, have another drink?

No, I'm afraid I've gone

and had too many again.

You know, in Paris...

nobody ever thinks of suggesting

just going home... to rest.

May I have a cigarette?

Could you... conceivably

picture yourself as Harry's lady?

Will you be kind to me?

I think I'm a little afraid of you.

[ Harry's Voice ] There are so many things

that I've not written...

and that I'll never write now.

I've written only

that first time in Paris--

the Paris that I loved.

The Place Contrescarpe...

where the flower sellers dyed

their flowers in the street.

The dye ran purple over the paving stones

where the autobus started.

And the children played in the streets

in the spring sunshine.

And the wood and coal man's place.

He sold wine too.

Bad wine.

And the golden horse's head

outside the Boucherie Chevaline...

where the carcasses hung yellow,

gold and red in the window.

And the green-painted cooperative

where we bought our wine.

Good wine, and cheap.

Our apartment was a room and a half.

There I did my work,

and Cynthia took up housekeeping.

And together we did all of the things

which go to make up living.

Harry.

- Harry.

- [ Grunts ]

Darling?

Your breakfast is ready.

Hello.

Hello.

[ Harry Narrating ] We knew our neighbors

in that quarter. We were all poor.

And in that poverty

and in that quarter...

I finished that first book.

A good book--

the start of all I thought I was to do.

And I called it

The Lost Generation...

not knowing at the time

how much it was about my Cynthia.

Harry!

Harry!

Harry.! Darling.!

- Oh, Harry, darling, it's been accepted!

- What?

- Your very first book, and it's gonna be published.

- No!

- Yes, and now we can get that--

- How much is the advance?

- The check. Yeah. How much?

- Oh!

It isn't so very much,

but it isn't so little either.

Well, you're right.

It isn't so very much.

It'll do if we pinch.

Darling, now we can get

that lovely apartment on the Seine.

Now we can go to Africa.

Oh!

[ Harry Narrating ]

And there never was another time for me...

like that first time in Africa.

Three of'em.

A bull and two cows.

- Good!

- [ African Language ]

- He says he's a fine bull.

- I know what he says. When do we get going?

We'll get downwind

and work up on 'im.

Don't you think it's time

the memsahib had the first shot?

- What?

- No, I don't want it.

- How correct you are, Mr.Johnson.

- I definitely don't want it!

- Come on. You'll do it marvelously.

- Come on. He's all yours!

Now, take it easy.

Just imagine

he's a tin can in the camp.

- But he's not a tin can. I don't want to do it.

- Shoot low at this distance.

Careful. Don't spook him.

Now!Just set him squarely

in your sights.

Brace yourself and squeeze.

Dearest Harry, please shut up.

Come on. Hurry up!

Will you shoot, for--

- You missed.

- I told you I didn't want to do it.

No harm done.

Everybody misses.

I never claimed I was a hunter.

You're the hunter.

Yes, and you,

the great white hunter.

Sure, sure. Come on, Annie Oakley.

Have yourself a drink.

- Don't let the master ride you.

- Shall we get going?

- He took cover there.

- What do you mean, " get going" ?

- Where will he break out?

- I won't go, and I don't want you to. I'm frightened!

You scared him half to death.

There won't be anything to it.

All right.

Then if you're going, so am I.

- Oh, no, you're not. Is she, Mr.Johnson?

- You married her.

You're gonna stay here with Simba.

I was only having fun.

Harry. Don't you want to kiss me?

Rate this script:3.0 / 2 votes