Voyager Page #4

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As far as I know it's always closed.

To the Louvre.

I thought you didn't like museums?

I don't.

That's funny.

Why?

I saw you at the Louvre.

I planned to leave today but...

I decided to stay another day.

You saw me?

You weren't hiding from me, were you?

Your not still going to hitchhike

all the way down there, are you?

Absolutely.

I've got my itinerary all worked out.

Your itinerary?

Itinerary, okay.

Avignon.

Avignon?

- Then, Nimes.

Florence.

Pisa.

- Pizza?

Orvieto.

Assisi.

And Rome.

Oh, boy! I'm glad you finished.

And of course I will stop in Saint Tropez.

I know some crazy people there.

We will go to the beach. Dance.

You know, it will be

one of those summers.

You know I could buy you a train ticket.

I just don't like the idea of

you hitchhiking down there.

I'll be all right.

This is my subway station.

Well, good luck to you.

Do you think we'll meet again?

How about if I bought you lunch?

Great!

I'm starving.

This is, so great.

I love Paris again. I really haven't

had a good meal in two days.

It's so expensive here.

Want some more wine?

No. No. No...

Coffee.

- Coffee? Garcon!

You know, there's only two

things that I wish for you.

One is that you don't hitchhike.

And the other one is that you never,

ever, become an airline stewardess.

Okay?

You promise?

- Yes.

Well, I got this...

conference that I'm locked into

here, I can't get out of it.

Do you think I could just sit

here and have another coffee?

Sure.

- Got plenty of time.

Maybe you could send me a telegram or a...

postcard or something you know, when you

get down there so that I know you made it.

Maybe.

How about if I rent us a car...

and drive you as far as Rome?

- What about your conference?

Well, they can live without me.

I'll have to tell Kurt,

and take my suitcase.

You mean you'd actually come?

Are you listening to me, Walter?

- Yes.

Walter.

I can't call you Walter.

- Why not?

It makes me think of teachers and

uncles and people like that. -Oncles?

Uncles!

Well, call me anything

you like. I don't care.

Then I just have to call you Faber.

It's a good name for you, anyhow.

Do you know what it means in Latin?

Did you take Lating?

- At the French (?).

It means... the forger of his own fate.

Let me see.

You tell anything in there?

Maybe we should stop?

No. No. Avignon can't be that far and

there's no place to stay here, anyhow.

I'll be all right. It's just my eyes.

Let me be your eyes.

Come on.

You handle the gas and breaks.

- You sure about this?

I don't know if this is a good idea.

- We can go faster now... even faster.

That's right.

Put down the breaks a little.

We're coming around a curve.

Now we are on a flat stretch.

Is this it?

- Yes.

It's okay?

Good night.

- Good night.

Merci, madam.

Au revoir.

Well. Down the road.

On our trip through Italy

I can only say I was happy.

Because the girl,

I believe, was happy too.

The only thing that worried

me was her hunger for art.

Her mania for looking at everything.

Museums don't mean a thing to me.

What I enjoyed most was her joy.

I'm gonna see the Masaccio.

It's supposed to be almost as primitive...

I mean as... as archaic as an early (?).

Where's you learn all these fancy words?

From mother. -Ah, mother!

You coming? -Thanks, I'll sit this one out.

You're very old today.

Wake up!

Wake up!

Where are we?

Orvieto.

Orvieto?

- Yeah.

I've been looking for you everywhere.

I thought you went for your Campari.

I wonder what she's dreaming about.

Here, wait a second. Look.

See how she's completely different when the

light falls on one side of her face? Look.

Can you see?

She looks wilder.

Think so?

I know she's asleep.

Who is she?

A sleeping girl.

Did you know that the sleeping girl

we like so much is a real celebrity?

Really?

- Yeah. She's more than 2000 years old.

That's old.

- Do you want to sign it? -No.

Anyway, we will be in

Athens before it gets there.

Probably.

Am I too heavy?

No.

- You sure?

No, you are.

Frau...

Doctor...

Hannah...

Piper.

What's her name? -Good question.

She's gone through a lot of names.

Piper is only the last one.

He's living in East Germany now.

He's a communist.

I never liked him.

And I was very pleased they divorced.

Thank you.

Before that it was Hencke.

My real father, Joachim Hencke.

Go away! This is our place!

Go away!

Do something. I mean they're

going to have a picnic right here

and I will have to go behind a tree.

- Your father's name is Joachim Hencke?

Yeah.

From Zurich?

Yeah.

I have to go.

You're hurting me. What's the matter?

Nothing.

Don't look!

Hannah!

Hannah, come on. They're calling us. Let's

just get this thing over with, all right?

You know what I just realised?

I really don't know who you are.

Why are you suddenly ready to throw

this whole thing away? What's the matter?

I think it's better you go to Baghdad and build

your dam. -Look, I'll make my own decisions

All right?

- Bye Walter.

And as for my child, don't worry

about it, there won't be any child.

What the hell's that supposed to mean?

I'll talk to Joachim, he'll help me.

He loves me.

...the best of Greek and Roman

culture in one ideal city.

Faber!

Do you have a light?

You smoke too much.

- I know.

Thank you.

Did I do something wrong?

No. Nothing at all.

For a minute I thought I

had done something wrong.

Faber, what's the matter with you?

- Nothing, I'd just like to have a drink.

You're acting so strange.

So many things have happened to me

lately. So many different things that I...

can't account for.

Do you believe in chance?

- Chance?

Yeah, like coincidence.

Like a chain of... coincidence.

There's all these things

that keep piling up.

What are you trying to say?

Sabeth, I think I knew

your mother and father.

They were friends of mine a long time ago.

- You knew them? When?

We went to school together.

- Are you sure?

Sabeth...

When exactly were you born?

Exactly? You mean the hour? The minute?

- No. No. Just the date.

June 23rd, 1938.

- June 23rd? -Yeah.

- Where? -In Munich.

Do you remember...

when your mother married Joachim?

- No.

Could it have been January 1938?

How would I know?

How old were you when he left?

Two or three, I guess.

I hardly remember father. All I know is

that he's somewhere in South America.

What's this all about?

You knew mother?

What was she like?

She was just as beautiful as you.

Buona notte, Mr. Faber.

Buona notte, Ms. Faber.

You don't love me anymore.

No, Sabeth. I do. Of course I do.

Is it because you're the

same age as my mother?

What is it?

You're not old. You're just

as young as me sometimes.

You're completely

different from my mother.

Don't tell me about your mother anymore!

I don't want to hear about

your mother all right?

You're gonna leave me, I know it.

No, but I have to take you back.

Back where?

- To Hannah.

I'm not a child.

I can take a train to

Athens, or hitchhike.

And you can go back to Paris or

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