All language subtitles for The.Snows.Of.Kilimanjaro.1952.eng

Kilimanjaro
is a snow-covered mountain, 19,710 feet high...

and is said to be
the highest mountain in Africa.

Close to the western summit, there is
the dried and frozen carcass of a leopard.

No one has explained what the leopard
was seeking at that altitude.

Look at 'em.

I wonder, is it sight or is it scent
that brings them?

They've been about for ever so long.
They don't mean a thing.

The marvelous thing is
that it's painless now.

- Is it really?
- Yes.

That's how you know when it starts.

They're a filthy bird...

but they know their business.

I used to watch the way they sailed
very carefully at first...

in case I ever wanted to use
one of them in a story.

That's funny now.

I've gotten so nervous,
not being able to do anything.

I think we might make it as easy as possible
until the plane comes.

Or until the plane doesn't come.

Mr.Johnson hasn't been a white hunter
for a quarter of a century...

not to know his way around.

If he can't get a plane,
he'll be back with another truck.

One way or another,
it's not very important.

I feel so helpless. I wish there was
something I could do.

You can take the leg off.

Or you can shoot me.
You're a good shot.

I taught you to shoot, didn't I?

Let's not be melodramatic, Harry.
You're not going to die.

No? I'm dying now.
Ask those things.

They're around every camp.
You never notice them.

I don't see why this had to happen
to your leg in the first place.

What have we done... either one of us...
to have had this happen to us?

Well, I suppose that what I did...

was forget to put iodine on it
when I first scratched it.

We were after the impala,
in case you've forgotten.

And with a camera, at that.

Ow! Ow!

That isn't what I meant,
and it isn't how you got your leg.

- No?
- Not at all.

It was at the lake last week.

It was a lovely, peaceful day...

and those enormous hippos
were having their own party.

We could've passed them by
without incident...

but... oh, no... you had to
get so awfully playful.

Look at them.
There must be hundreds of them.

Harry, look at that one!

Look at that big one over there!

Harry!
I wouldn't chance it any closer.

Harry! Be careful!

- Harry!
- What's the matter? You frightened?

- Not in the least.
- Well, let's go!

Come on. Come on!

Harry, easy.
You're asking for trouble.

Harry, look. Here. Here.

Harry! Harry, we've lost
one of our boatmen.

What?

Harry!

And you insisted on carrying the boy
in your arms all the way back to camp.

And it was from all his blood and dirt
that you got that infection.

That could be the point of view.

From yours, it would be contact
with the lower classes.

Being a writer, I prefer to think
that it was a quirk of fate...

a mere prick of a thorn...

that laid the great man low.

A lot it matters now.

Harry, please.!

- Molo!
- Bwana.!

- Whiskey soda. Make it pronto, Molo.
- It's bad for you.

- No, it isn't. It's good for me.
- It's not good for you.

No. It's Bad for Me.
Cole Porter wrote the words and music.

There, that's poetry.
Oh, I'm full of poetry now.

- Rot and poetry... rotten poetry.
- Harry.

Harry, it said in the first-aid book
to avoid all alcohol.

It's not good for you.
That's what I meant by giving up.

You must do everything you can.

Ah, you do it.
I'm too tired.

I'll take this,
if only to keep it away from you.

That's a pretty good rule for life:

Take everything you can,
if only to keep it from somebody else.

Wish I'd followed it.

I'm sure Molo understands more English
than you think he does.

- Molo.
- Bwana?

Go away or stuff your ears so you won't
hear the civilized people fighting.

Harry, if you think
you have to die...

is it absolutely necessary for you
to kill off everything you leave behind?

You think this is any fun for me?

I don't even know why I do it.

Trying to kill
to keep yourself alive, I imagine.

- You won't die if you...
- It's not dying, not in itself, that matters!

It's dying of failure.

Leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

How does a man miss the boat?

Did I ever tell you
about my beginning...

when I was young?

- With my first love?
- No, you didn't.

And I'm not sure I want to hear it.

I'll tell you all about it
over this drink.

You'll tell me without.

There are plenty of things
you're lucky I haven't told you.

This little ditty had everything...

drama, tragedy...

love and poetry.

Simply everything.

Cut the stall.!

I'm done with you!
More big words!

Big words! I'm through being insulted
as if I were some tramp!

- You can fly a kite, both of you!
- Connie! Connie!

- Uncle Bill doesn't mean...
- Oh, yes, he does! You know he does!

The old mossback!
The nasty, dirty, stubborn old mossback!

- He only said we ought to wait.
- Ha! Wait? I like that, coming from you.

- I didn't say...
- You bet you didn't!

Not once all summer when you wanted
to hug and kiss me and get fresh.

And all those things about where
you'd take me and what we'd do.

Not once did you yell to me to wait!

" I love you!"
You don't even know what love is!

- Connie!
- Oh! Go fly a kite!

Come in, Harry.
She'll recover.

- Connie, I'll shove off for you!
- You shoved off already!

- You still intend to become a writer?
- Yes.

Well, there are different
kinds of writers...

just as there are different
kinds of everything.

You can become another hack.

It's easy...
peddle soap to housewives.

Nothing wrong with peddling soap.

Make a fortune.

But I'll tell you the only
right approach to real writing.

It's like a hunt.

It's a hunt in which a man pits his brains
against the forces of ignorance and evil.

It's a lifelong and lonely safari.

The prey he seeks
is a truth worth telling...

a faith worth living by...

something worth
spilling his guts about.

He must track it down by himself.

I don't know if you'll be one
to have the fortitude to stick it...

to follow the spoor
no matter where it leads...

to what pain and suffering...

through hell and high water.

If you are, God help you.

God pity you.
And good luck.

I beg you not to ruin yourselfbefore you start
by loading your pack with excess baggage.

That's my business, isn't it?

Yes. Yes, it is.

You know, you're young.

You'll need to travel and learn.

Education.

I'd like to help.

I think I've made clear the conditions.

Your birthday next week. Here.

From now on, you might regard
that Springfield as your own.

Shall we have a try
for deer tomorrow?

Good weather for it.

Oh, I've lived, all right...

but where has it got me?

To a camp in Africa with you...

my rich, beautiful wife.

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!

- Harry!
- Emile!

- Bonsoir.
- Bonsoir.

Et, quelle est votre désir?

In English, that's quite a question.

Now, from other sources.

- 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Darling?
Your breakfast is ready.

Hello.

Hello.

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!

And there never was another time for me...

like that first time in Africa.

Three of'em.
A bull and two cows.

Good!

- 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?

Kiss you good-bye?
Well, aren't you extravagant?

You stay here and be brave.

Harry! Harry!

- Harry.!
- Go back.!

- Go back!
- Harry!

Look lively. Look lively.

Harry!

Harry.!

It's a funny moment when an animal
comes out of the bush at you.

A million things
seem to happen at once.

- Is it always like that?
- It's very simple.

Either you run or you get busy.

It's not at all simple.

You could write a lot about it
if you could get it just right.

Different feelings
at the different times.

Today it was like,
uh, an explosion...

of purest joy.

It was like a dam bursting.

Why is it everyone who comes to Africa
has to write a book about it?

One silly beggar
even dedicated his to me.

Never came back,
or I'd have shot him in the pants.

Can't you two let it alone,
even at night?

- Well, we're talking about your rhino.
- He wasn't mine.

He was all yours.
All we did was polish him off for you.

Anybody want another look
at that horn?

A pretty good horn.

What's the matter with me,
Mr.Johnson?

Everybody isn't required
to like Africa, you know.

I try to put up a show
because I know he loves it so.

But all of it... the hunting, the killing...
it terrifies me.

See here. This thing
that he was talking about...

the excitement... call it courage.

The way he feels it is a man's feeling,
natural in a man.

Grows in a man and makes him a man.

Not particularly to his credit
if he has it...

but something lacking if he hasn't.

A woman shows her courage
in other ways, many ways.

I've got another fear now...worse.

I'm going to have a baby.

What?

We came to Africa for trophies.

Harry's got his, and I've got mine.

Well, it's natural enough, isn't it?

Shall I tell him?
What'll he think?

Mr.Johnson,
when I first met Harry...

- How's your drink?
- No, thanks.

I'll have some.

All my life, I'd just been drifting.
Nobody, no place.

I guess you'd say I had
no personal security.

But when I first
got to know Harry...

You should've seen him in Paris.
Have you ever been to Paris?

No. Unnatural maybe,
but I never had the desire.

Makes no difference.
You've seen him here.

There was I, weak and needy.

And there was he,
strong and confident.

Every bit of me said
this is all of it.

When we first went
to live at his place...

I was happy just to sit and watch him
as much as I could...

content to just sit still and hold on
to my feeling of safety.

But Harry was never still,
even when he worked.

No sooner had he finished his first book
than he said we were going to Africa.

I didn't want to stir,
but I felt that if I told him so...

I'd lose something.

And now he's... He's already talking
about other places.

If I tell him about this anchor,
this child...

this... this load of responsibility...

It isn't things I want... believe me,
nothing like it...

but only him as a rock
to hold on to.

So, shall I tell him now...

and risk beginning to lose him...

or put it off and see
if something happens?

Isn't it enough I have to guide
you greenhorns on safari?

Am I hired to be an old nurse too?

Be Mr.Johnson, my friend.

- Really?
- Please.

Now, see here.
I'm just a hunter.

I can only say it
the way I know how.

It's when you run away,
you're most liable to stumble.

Well, they may have
better horns in museums...

but 33 inches is nothing
to be ashamed of.

- Good night.
- Good night.

- What's the matter with him?
- He's going to bed.

It's too early.
I feel too good.

Oh, I wonder if there'll ever be
another time as good as this.

- Harry...
- Listen.Just listen.

That's a bedtime lullaby, eh?

There's an awful lot
of everything there is in this...

hunger, love, hate, fright.

There's a wonderful book in it.

Maybe I'll write it someday.

Darling.

Don't spoil it.

Don't talk it all away.

Now, as soon as you reach Paris,
see your own physician.

I'm sure he'll confirm
what I've told you.

You'll have to be quiet.
No running about. No excitement.

Probably means your spending much
of the time in bed.

- Clear?
- I understand.

Some women are like that.

If you want the child
badly enough...

it won't seem
like such a sacrifice, now, will it?

Shall I have a talk
with your husband?

Oh, no. I'll tell him.
Thank you, Doctor.

- Good luck.
- Thank you.

Oh, I'll take that.

- Oh,just put it right there, please.
- Yes, darling.

Hmm? Oh!
I thought you were...

- On the table, sahib.
- Look what just arrived.

A letter from the publisher
and a check.

It isn't very much,
but it's a check.

- Everything's gonna work out all right.
- What will, darling?

All of it.

Say, what'd old sawbones say?

Nothing frightful?
Didn't pick up a fever?

- No, I...
- What did I tell you?

All you need's a change of climate.
We'll go directly to Madrid.

We'll have the bullfights,
the Grecos at del Prado...

then up to Pamplona
in time for the fiesta.

- Harry.
- Luckiest timing in the world.

Darling, couldn't we just go home?

Home?

Where's that?

You mean back to Paris.

Well, why?

Just to go home.

Look, darling, we can get
a nice apartment with the check...

with a room for you to work in.

You don't have to go
to Spain, do you?

No, darling, I don't
have to go to Spain...

or anyplace else.

You just want to.

Look, Cynthia, if I have to sound
like a lousy stiff that had a mission.

I'm trying to become a writer.

It's a writer's business
to buzz around...

find out about things for himself...

not sit on his can in a comfortable chair
and reach for a bookcase...

for something to crib from.

And after Spain?

How do we know?

I mean, you never want
this other normal thing?

I'm trying to explain
what is my normal thing.

- With maybe children?
- Children?

Darling, I want a child
more than anything in the world.

Something of my very own
to hold on to.

Well! Well, sure.

I love kids, but later.

We've got lots of time.

Look, Cyn, the world is a market...

in which you buy
what you want...

not just with money, but with your time,
with a lot of things.

It's an exchange.
You give something, and you get something.

I'm giving up a piece of my life...

to get something
that I need for my work.

Later on, we can afford what we can afford.
It's as simple as that.

I see.

Can I fix you a drink?

It's a little bit early, isn't it?

It seems to me to be just about
the right time. Do you object?

No.

Look, Cyn, if you have
this yen to go to Paris...

well, you can go there.

Without you?

I'm not saying that I want it.

I'm just saying
that you can go there.

Or if...

If it's a matter
of life and death...

okay, I'll go with you.

I'll go change the tickets.

Harry!

Get a doctor.! Call an ambulance.!

- Mr. Street?
- Yes.

- I'm Dr. Simmons.
- How do you do? How is she?

I'm sorry to have to tell you
she lost the child.

- The what?
- You didn't know, Mr. Street?

Exactly what happened?

They told me at the hotel that there'd...
been an accident. That's all.

A nasty fall. She'll be quite all right
after a few days' rest.

Do you actually mean
you didn't know about the child?

Don't you people talk to each other?

You did it deliberately.

- It was an accident.
- You did it because of what I said.

It was an accident.
I stumbled.

You didn't have any right to do it.

It was my child too, you know.

Don't, darling.

Oh, Cyn.

Oh, darling.

Stupid little idiot.

Now... we can go to the bullfights.

For this one,
I got seats way up here. Better?

Anything you say, darling.

From up here, you can see
the whole thing as a spectacle.

It's quite a sight.

- ¡Olé!
- ¡Toro!

¡Olé.!

¡Olé.!

¡Olé.!

¡Olé! ¡Olé!

- ¡Olé.!¡Olé.!
- ¡Toro.!

¡Olé.!

¡Olé.!¡Olé.!

¡Olé.!

You know, darling,
I think that dancer likes me.

All right. The dancer likes you.
I like you too, darling.

Yes, but his liking is new,
and yours is old.

An old, old story that's ending.

What did the telegram say, Harry?

Darling, you don't want to be childish.
You've read it.

They offered me an assignment
to cover the fracas in Damascus...

between the Syrians and the French.

Yes, that's what it said,
but that isn't what it meant.

- It meant that I'm beginning a lifetime without you.
- That's real nonsense.

Then why didn't you ask me
to go with you?

Darling, there's a war
going on there.

There's a war going on here too...
right here at this table.

There's a dandy little war going on.

- Darling, you shouldn't drink too much.
- No, no.

I shouldn't do a lot of things too much.
I shouldn't love you too much.

I'm awfully bad for you.

We're so hopelessly in love,
and we can't make it work.

That's nonsense, darling.

I shouldn't have wanted
to be happy too much.

I expected it to come like a gift.

Then I shouldn't follow you around.

I'm a drag on you,
and I hate every bit of it.

I shouldn't even have wanted
to have your child.

- It wasn't fair to you.
- Cynthia. Cynthia.

Cynthia.

You've got to forget that.
You're driving yourself crazy.

Yes, I ought to forget.

I ought to just go back
to Paris alone, as you say...

and not drive myself crazy at all
while I wait for you and wait and wait.

Don't you even know you're lying?

- I'm not lying.
- No.

No, it isn't a lie yet.

It won't be a lie until you go away
and discover you're not coming back...

but are going on and on
and see the whole world...

even if you lose it for us.

You know, I think this dancer
likes me very much.

All right, the dancer
likes you very much.

It ought to make me very happy.

It makes me feel dreadful.

Shall we invite him
over to the table?

Do you think his manners
would be as nice as yours?

Do you think he'd ask me first
if I'm Harry's lady?

Women can pick the times
to start a row.

It's not a row, darling.
It's very sad.

You with your ambition,
me with my guilt.

A lot of things are sad.

Why do they put the pads on the horses
in the bullfights?

- I've told you that.
- Tell me again.

It isn't so the horses
won't feel the hurt, is it?

It's only for the spectators...

so they won't see
the horses' insides.

Yes, it is for the protection
of the spectators.

I knew you wouldn't like the horses.

But I desperately like the horses.

I know just how the horses feel,
with their nice pads to protect them from the spectators.

You ought to put some pads
on me to protect you, poor darling.

Cynthia, will you kindly,
kindly, kindly stop?

Yes. I shouldn't talk too much.

That's another of the things
I do too much.

Excuse me for a moment?

Excuse me for a moment?

Harry!

It's all right, dear.
I'll be back in a jiffy.

Bravo!

Will you send this
right away, please?

Immediately, Señor Street.

The lady left, señor.

Where did she go?

I don't know, inasmuch as she left
with the dancer.

She what?

She said to tell you, if you inquired,
there was no use of looking for her.

She said she is not coming back.

Where's the mem?

She went out to kill something.

She's very good at killing.
I taught her.

Heigh-ho!

When the party's over, you're likely
to get left with your hostess.

Oh, yes.
Here she comes now.

Yeah. I suppose I'm as well off
with her as any other.

She's a splendid woman
by all standards.

Maybe if I close my eyes,
she'll go away.

- Make a good shot?
- Oh!

- Hello.
- Hello.

Rather a good shot...
through the shoulder.

You shoot marvelously, you know?

- How are you feeling?
- Better.

I thought maybe you would.
You were sleeping when I left.

- Shall I relieve Molo?
- No. He wants to shave me, and I want to talk.

- Well, everyone must have someone to talk with.
- He's the perfect audience.

Doesn't understand a word I tell him.
Therefore, we don't quarrel.

Let's not quarrel anymore,
no matter how nervous we get.

You needn't be afraid of me anymore.

I'm not afraid of you.
I never was.

- Will you call me if you need me?
- Sure.

Come back anytime
you feel like it. Molo.

You know...

you Africans may have the right system
with women at that.

Buy one for a few cows...

whatever it is you happen
to use for money.

And if she isn't satisfactory,
you get your money back.

We use our emotions.

And if it cracks up...

we don't get anything back.

Ouch!

Sure, sure.

Bwana's whiskers very tough.

A lot of things are tough.

You know, son,
there was one woman...

And what a woman.

I wrote a book about her too.

Another woman, another book.

Wasn't about Spain or Africa
or anything that I cared about.

But into it I poured
the anger that I felt...

and some dirt
and belly-laugh humor...

Just right to tickle
the smart ones on the Riviera.

And I'd found something, son.

I'd found success.

You swim very well.

Naturally, when I have
an incentive...

swimming to you, darling.

Do you do everything else as well?

I swam over... Don't, Harry!

What's the matter?

You afraid of startling the fish?

Afraid of you.

Frigid Liz.

I swam way over to tell you
that I've changed your plans.

- You are not going away tonight.
- No?

Well, swim around and tell me
why you think I'm not.

Because you run around,
and what does it get you? Only dizzy.

If you have to write, I have a typewriter
at home I'll let you call your own.

You've got a few other things at home
I'd like to call my own.

I can't let you go, darling.

I can't let go of you.

Countess, there's no one like you.

- Climb up here on this boat.
- I can't, Harry!

- I've hardly anything on.
- Get up here.

Please, lover. Not out here.

I suppose it was the elusiveness of Liz...

which was her main attraction.

She was something to hunt down
and trap and capture.

The Countess Elizabeth...
"Frigid Liz. "

The semi-iceberg of the semi-tropics.

It was fun, son.

It was just lousy with fun.

It would be much more polite
if you'd say it, darling.

For once, I'm speechless.

At least say that you don't like it.

But I do... immensely.

I admit that something
has me puzzled.

Would you mind
answering one question?

Not at all.
What's the question?

Well, why do you want her for this?

I admit she must be nice
to have around... for Harry.

Yes. I don't think I introduced you.

Beatrice, this is
my fiancé's nice uncle, Mr. Swift.

Enchanté, monsieur.

Beatrice? There's a fine lot
of divinity in that name.

- Dante, you know.
- Yes, darling, I know.

- Beatrice, are you divine?
- Oui, monsieur.

I'll just bet.

- Tell me, Uncle Bill... Oh, may I call you Uncle Bill?
- By all means.

Are you planning
a long visit with Harry...

now that you are back from India?

I'm afraid not.
Are you?

I'm not visiting Harry.
Harry is visiting me.

Well, whichever, it must be wonderful
for both of you.

We think so.

As I look at her again,
another question crosses my mind.

As interesting as the last one?

When you and Harry get married...

how many children will you have?

Why don't you go ask him?

I may.

By the way, where is genius
shining at the moment?

- In his study.
- Probably doing something constructive.

I like it here.

I don't bother you?
Just continue.

Tell me.
Have you named her yet?

You have a suggestion?

Ceres... the goddess of fertility.

- Madame?
- Oui?

Merci.

Excuse me.

Why don't you finish her
for me while I'm gone?

Oh, good. Come on in.

- Now I can stop.
- If you do, I'll go away again.

Just let me sit here, tidily in the corner.

- Fine view.
- It ought to be. Cost a pretty penny.

Did you see Liz?

Speaking of a pretty penny?

No,just speaking of Liz.

Marry her, my boy.
It's the surest cure.

- What do you mean by that one?
- Lover, may I come in?

You are everywhere,
aren't you, darling?

It's the only attribute
I share with the Almighty.

Angel, are you doing anything
that's stinkingly important?

Confidentially, Countess, it couldn't be
less important or more stinking.

What, silly?

I'm writing an interview with myself
on the subject of success.

- Hear! Hear!
- Your latest has sold another 100,000, it says here.

- Amazing.
- Hollywood wants it.

- They say they'll put Garbo in it.
- That should please you.

How did I get in the habit of becoming involved
with women who always open my mail?

You get such fascinating letters, darling.

Cosmopolitan wants another series
of short stories. And Smart Set too.

They pay the tops, it says.

Well, why should a writer feel guilty...

because people are willing to pay
good money for the sweat off his brow?

They shouldn't, my boy.
No one ever paid for a drop of mine...

except a few libraries and museums.

Which reminds me
to tell you...

- I've decided to settle down and take over that museum.
- That's wonderful news.

- Does that mean we'll see you often, darling?
- When you're in Paris.

My bones will be on display amongst the other
antiquities every day except Thursday...

on the Avenue President Wilson.

- Harry, dear boy.
- I'll walk out with you.

I'll find the door.
I imagine you're wanted in there.

Why the devil haven't you the grace
to tell me the truth?

- What truth?
- That you think my book stinks.

That everything I'm doing stinks.

I came to praise Caesar,
not to bury him.

Most men would envy you.
You make a handsome living.

You have the acquaintance of most
of the interesting people of the world.

All this and Liz too.

You're young. You have your health.
You look well.

Fairly well.

Come to see me soon, dear boy.

Oh, Harry.
Have you done any hunting lately?

- No. Why do you ask?
- Too bad.

A man should never
lose his hand at hunting.

I had it all, and what did I have?

My name in the papers,
my face in the better magazines.

And where was Cynthia?

People asked for my autograph
and pointed me out.

Why didn't she come back to me?

At last, I made a cry for help...

getting her American address
from Emile.

And so, my darling Cynthia...

I've never been able
to kill the loneliness...

but only made it worse.

Everyone I've been with
has only made me miss you more.

And what you did can never matter.

I cannot cure myself of loving you.

Then one day outside the Ritz...

I followed a woman
whom I thought was you.

I follow any woman
who looks like you in some way...

afraid to see that it's not you...

afraid to lose
the feeling it gives me.

- Yes?
- Oh...

I beg your pardon.
I thought you were someone else...

Someone I know. I'm really sorry.
I didn't know you were...

A woman with a family?
They're my brother's children.

Now, why did I tell you that?

Aren't you Mr. Harry Street,
the writer?

That's right, I'm afraid.

I think I'm rather sorry
I'm not the right one.

- Anything interesting?
- Routine.

A few interesting bills
for you to foot.

No, I mean that letter
you're trying to hide.

Darling!

- How are you? Poopie.
- Angel.

You came just at the right moment.
Now, let's see.

I don't think you've met
my fiancé, Mr. Street.

Contessa...

How do you do?
As a patron of the arts...

Now sit down and let Charles
pour you a drink.

My devoted fiancé and I are just
in the middle of a little something.

Who is this... this Cynthia Green?

" Hotel Florinda, Madrid."

She must be a girl
named Cynthia Green.

Is she a fan of yours?

- Not the last I heard.
- From Madrid.

- My dear, devoted fiancé has so many fans.
- And I am one of them.

Oh, I just devoured your last book.

I hope it didn't
give you a bellyache.

Is this letter so important, Harry?

No. No, it isn't important at all.

Good. Then you shan't
be troubled with it.

Excuse me.

Harry.

- What are you doing?
- What do you think I'm doing?

- I won't let you go.
- Ah.

- I won't let you make a fool of me.
- Ah.

You said it was not important.

- The whole thing is not important.
- Harry, listen to me.

Lover, darling,
stop and listen to me.

Please, Harry,
stop and listen to me.

" Please, Harry."
I'm listening.

- I know that sometimes I must draw your nerves.
- Ho.

- And sometimes you are on my nerves too.
- Ho, ho.

I know that sometimes...

sometimes I'm inadequate for you.

I know my faults.

But I love you, darling.
Truly I do.

I love you as much as I can...

and if there is something
deeply troubling you...

- Yes, there is something troubling me.
- Then only tell me.

It may be the dawning
of suspicion...

but the fact that the airplane
is faster than the horse...

does not necessarily prove
that the world is getting any better.

No, I mean about us.

About us there is nothing
troubling me deeply at all.

Where are you going?
Are you going to Madrid?

Perhaps I'll go to Madrid.

I'll send you a postcard.

Oh, Harry, you look so silly.

Such a fool, trying to look...

like a knight questing
for the Holy Grail.

Maybe you're right.

Maybe I'll just have me
a good look-see for the Holy Grail.

- Horses, Harry!
- The same to you...

with tassels on 'em!

- Horses, Harry!
- The same to you, Countess.

My Cynthia
was not at the Hotel Florinda in Madrid...

or anywhere else.

The lousy civil war
had fixed Madrid.

Before I knew it,
I was carrying a gun...

and I wished I weren't.

Do you know an American driver
by the name of Cynthia Green?

Yo no entiendo inglés, señor.

Con permiso.

Wish I was back in Detroit.

- You're an American, huh?
- Yeah.

Wish I was back in Detroit...

where I was when I got
sucked into this.

I just woke up
I got sucked into this.

You believe any of that bushwa?

- No.
- What are you doing here?

You'd die laughing if I told you.

¡Compañía, adelante.!

Blessed Mary, Mother of God.

Blessed Mary, Mother of God.

Oh, please, let Harry find me.

In thy great bleeding heart...

please find room for my prayer.

Cyn...

- Cynthia! Cynthia!
- Oh, darling!

- You're...You're hurt.
- Only a little. Oh!

- You're very hurt.
- Only a little.

Not like the horses.

Harry.

- I'll get help.
- No. No.

Stretcher bearers!

Darling?

- Did you believe my letter?
- Every word.

About the child too?

Yes, about the child too.

Stretcher bearers!
Oh, God!

Darling, I was so wrong
about the child.

I know that God would punish me.

You? You...

In his infinite mercy.

You should spit on me.

Stretcher bearers!

Here!

They're coming.
Darling. Darling.

Will you excuse me...

of so many things?

Oh, it's funny.

When you touch me,
I still turn giddy.

I could be dying,
and if you touch me, I turn giddy.

You won't die.

- Here. Here. Here.
- Vamos.

Vamos.

- Aprisa, aprisa.
- Careful.

I knew you'd find me.

Cobarde.

Monsieur Street.
Monsieur Street. Monsieur Street.

Uncle Bill. I came as soon
as your letter caught up with me.

- My dear boy.
- What is all this?

We'll get you a good doctor.

Doctors.

It was a wise man who said that if all
the medicines were dumped into the sea...

it would be a horrible day for the fish.

But don't worry about me.

I shall be in excellent hands
before long.

What about yourself now?

- You don't look happy.
- I'm all right.

What have you been doing
with yourself all these years?

- You've traveled?
- Followed my nose.Just wandered.

- But about you...
- Where? Where? Where? Tell me where.

- Hmm?
- Nothing to brag about.

Oh, I've seen
the Seven Wonders of the World...

if that's what you mean...
or however many there are.

They're not very wonderful.

Then you haven't really seen.

You haven't hunted.

Hunted.

- Yes.
- Well, why should I?

I'm exactly the way the world
pays me a very good living to be.

I amuse the people
with my little tales.

This I can do with my left hand...

which leaves my right hand
free for other things.

I've destroyed my talent...

by not using it...

by betrayals of myself...

the things I believed in.

By drink...

by laziness...

by pride and by prejudice...

by hook and by crook.

What is this, a catalog of old books?

Harry.

Once I hunted...

in Spain...

for the Holy Grail...

but they busted the Grail.

They busted her all to pieces.

The Grail...

Why should I blame them?
I killed her.

I... I don't understand.

Well, Harry, in your absence...

I've kept you with me
as well as I could.

My latest.
Did you hate it?

I love everything you write, Harry.

But you couldn't finish it.

Take out the envelope.
It's for you.

In it you'll find
the legacy I'm leaving you...

when I lay down my bones
amongst the other relics here.

But I don't need anything.

- Are you sure?
- Oh, the royalties are rolling in.

That's one thing
about success...

Even when it's a failure,
it snowballs for a while.

There's also one thing
about a snowball...

It has nowhere to go
except downhill.

Well, that's not money.

It isn't anything...

material.

Oh, I thought and thought
about what I might leave you.

Finally, I...
I wrote a little something.

A riddle.

A riddle?

I don't want you to read it
until after I've gone.

Because you might
ask me the answer...

and I don't know the answer.

But if you can find it...

it'll save you.

- What is that?
- It's a pretty fine place,Jake.

Ah. Bonsoir, monsieur.

Is it... Harry.!

Oh, young Harry.

And this place looks wonderful.

It looks just the same.

The same...

dirty, smelly...

It's the same wonderful place.

Excuse me.
This new abomination...

Oh, no, no, no.
Leave it, leave it, leave it.

Why do you let 'em
change it out there?

Who gave 'em the right
to spoil it like that?

Here we don't change.
We have no business, but no change.

Oh, look. See?

- The same.
- Ah.

That's because
it's preserved in a bottle.

You know, Emile, it might be
a pretty good idea for us too.

Formerly, when you came here,
you were not bitter.

Formerly...

when I came here...

You know, there was one night...

when I came here...

No, no.

You're right, Emile.
You look behind you, and what do you see?

Only a backside.

We must think of the future.

I have been left... a legacy.

Yeah...
You too,Jake.

It is a riddle.

" Kilimanjaro...

" is a snow-covered mountain,
19,710 feet high...

" and is said to be
the highest mountain in Africa.

" Close to the western summit...

" there is the dried
and frozen carcass...

of a leopard."

In all that snow?

So they would have us believe.

Some lousy cat got cold feet.

Oh, no, no.
Wait a minute. Wait a minute.

Here comes the kicker.

" No one has explained
what the leopard was seeking...

at that altitude."

Is that all?

It's an unsatisfactory story.
It ends badly.

But what was the leopard
doing up there in the first place?

That's the riddle.

And if I can find the answer,
I'm supposed to win a prize.

Come on. Let's put
our fine minds together,Jake.

Perhaps he took the wrong turn
and followed the wrong scent...

and so he got lost and died.

Yeah.

That's a very sensible solution, Emile...

for him...

and for me.

Please?

Are you...

May I?

Cyn?

Thank you.
Am I mistaken?

Aren't you Mr. Harry Street, the author,
whom I met in the Place Vendome?

Yes, I'm Mr. Harry Street...

and I'm lost.

And you...

Why, how...

how very beautiful you are.

Excuse me, my dear Cynthia...

but tonight
I'm a little the worse...

for many years of wear and tear.

- You need rest, Mr. Street.
- Yes, I need rest, Mr. Street.

I need a lot of things, Mr. Street.

I...

I need...

you.

Would you like a drink?

- What did you say?
- Well, I'm going to have one.

Why don't we have one together?

Ask Molo.
You know I don't speak the lingo.

Molo?

Whiskey-soda.

About which one have you
been thinking, Harry?

- What do you mean, about which one?
- About Cynthia or about Liz?

What makes you think
you know so much?

Maybe I was thinking
about you and me.

No. Never about you and me.

At least, not with any honesty.

Well, that just shows you
how wrong you can be.

I was thinking
about the way we met...

on the bridge near Notre-Dame.

When you mistook me
for your Cynthia?

You've never been able to forgive me
for not being her, have you?

Do you really want
to go into that one?

What else did you think
about you and me, Harry?

Mmm...

That we had a lulu of a beginning.

It was really a lulu.

Yes, we had that, all right.

Well, neither of us were children.

We both knew what we were getting.

Why did you suddenly
want to come here?

You owe me the courtesy
of being honest.

All right.

I'll be honest.

Because why I wanted to come here...

is the point
of the whole bloody joke.

Because I'd found the answer to a riddle.
That's why.

About a leopard...
who'd lost his way.

And I thought that if I had
followed the wrong scent...

and was going to perish...

then I'd better get back
to the jungle from where I'd started.

It had been good here.

I had been right here.

And I thought I could get back
to it that way...

back into training...

work the fat off my soul...

the way a fighter
goes into the mountains...

to work the fat offhis body.

I might have made it, too...

if two weeks ago
that thorn hadn't needled me.

That foul smell
crosses here every night...

every night for two weeks.

He's the one who makes
all the noise at night.

I don't mind him too much.

You know what that bad breath
just said to me?

- The hyena?
- That it's getting very late for me.

- Aren't you funny?
- That lousy timepiece.

Really, darling, aren't you be...

Harry.

- What is it?
- Huh?

It's nothing.

How do you feel?

All right.

A little wobbly.

- Can you eat something now?
- No.

A little broth
will keep your strength up.

I don't need my strength up.

Don't tell me you don't know.

Well, I've known everything...

except just when it would happen.

Try, darling.

Helen.

I want to write.

I know.

Do you really?

I know almost all of it now...

except one very important thing
which you must tell me.

Harry, was it entirely
because of her...

that it was the best time
for you here?

- Who?
- Cynthia, whom twice you mistook me for.

Was it only because
you were happiest here with her?

If you thought all that,
why did you come along?

Why do you think?

You were always a considerate woman.

You'd have bought me anything.

You'd like anything new and exciting.
I don't know.

I more than came along,
if you'll remember.

I arranged with the publisher
for your advance.

- I lied to you. I contrived it.
- Why?

Because it was
the only chance for you.

And because it might be
a chance for me.

I thought that
if I was here with you...

and your work came well
and you were happy here again...

with me here...

Don't make me lose all my pride.

This is the first time
I've ever really seen you.

You're not a failure, darling.

Just because
you've disappointed yourself...

with some of the things you've written,
that's not failure as a man.

You've brought something
to everyone...

just as you brought something to me.

You're quite a woman.

It's a pity
I'm finding it out only now.

I love you, Harry.

I love you with all my heart.

We've got a whole lifetime
ahead of us.

You had every card in the deck
stacked against you.

- If we had the time...
- There'll be plenty of time.

You're going to live.
You've got to live.

Plenty of time...
That's what you think.

That's what they all think.

That's why they sit on their tails.

Let's not kid ourselves.

A door can open
suddenly into nothing...

and death has been standing there
all the while.

If a man hasn't done
what he intended to do...

Who is he?

One of the boys of the local clinic
of the Mayo brothers, I do believe.

A witch doctor?

That's right.

He's the uncle of the boy
I tried to save from the hippo.

Send him away.
We don't want him.

He's heard that I'm sick
with the bad spirits.

He wants to be in on the kill.

- Get rid of him, Harry. He gives me the creeps.
- Ask Dr. Pasteur to sit down.

Please send him away.

He's eating a root of some special sort
to sharpen his wits.

Now he's gonna roll the bones.

No fooling.
In that stinking cat-skin bag...

he's got a couple of dozen bits
of bones...

from the hind legs of anteaters...

and tortoises, baboons and whatnot.

From the pattern
that they will make...

when he throws them on the ground...

he will be able
to diagnose what ails me.

Go ahead.
You're faded, doc.

Boxcars.!

Mmm.

A man finally gets tired.

- In the tent.
- What are you gonna do?

- I don't wanna go in the tent.
- In the tent.

It's a clear night.
It's not going to rain.

You'll do just as I say.

What a life.
A man can't live as he pleases.

Can't even die as he pleases.

Through the fields of poppies.

Like opium.

Opium.

Makes you feel funny.

Where'd we go?

Went off to that war.

Water.

Lousy war.

Molo?

Dead soldiers...

wearing ballet skirts.

I'm sorry.
I don't understand.

Meant to write about it.

I've seen the world change.

Seen not just the events...

but the people.

People change.

It's my duty to write it.

I've... Oh, God.

Been in it. I've seen it.

I've been in it. I've seen it.

I've watched it.

Darling?

Did I hurt you?

I don't want to hurt you.

Helen.

- I've been writing.
- I know, Harry.

For a million years.

- Can you take dictation?
- No. I never learned.

Oh, that's all right.

Wouldn't be time anyway.

Seems that...

if I could get it all into...

one paragraph...

if I could get it...

just right...

Hello, Molo,
you white man's burden, you.

Darling, I've only got the first-aid book.

What's he gonna do,
sprinkle me with monkey dust?

- Darling...
- A hair from the tail of a leopard?

- The poor, old...
- Darling, please try to listen.

You told me in certain parts of your leg
there isn't any feeling.

- Wood. Funniest thing...
- It says in the book it's a kind of paralysis.

The blood vessels. One should use
hot compresses to keep the circulation going.

You tell 'em to use the lion medicine.
It's very potent.

Don't make fun, even of him.
He only wants to do his best.

And I'm trying to do my best.

I'm trying to do
my best too, darling.

If you'll only do that, Harry.

" 'Heigh-ho'..

said Raleigh."

" Boil a sharp knife.
Clean the area.

" Slip sharp point of knife...

Apply dry dressing."

Stretcher bearers.!

- Leave him alone! What are you trying to do?
- Stretcher bearers.!

Darling, don't.
It's all right. It's all right.

Get out!

Get out!

- Darling.
- A lousy fever.

Fever.

Darling, are you conscious enough
to listen to me?

- Sure.
- There's a very large swelling on your leg.

I'm going to open it.

Do you...

feel something strange?

Yes, darling.

Death is near us.

Do you think he could come so close
to you and I wouldn't know it?

Don't ever believe...

what they tell you about it.

Not a scythe or a skull.

Just now, it came with a rush.

Not the rush of water...

but of wind.

And...

And the funniest thing.

The hyena...

skipped lightly...

along the edge of it.

God help us.

Go away.

It's all right now.

I don't understand.

Go away.

Oh!

Harry! It's come!

The plane... it's come.

Darling, it's here.

Darling, it's here.

It's here... the plane.

It's here.

Darling, look.

What do you see?

It's Mr.Johnson.
Well, what do you know?

No, I mean look at the tree.

The tree!

Well, I'll be hanged.

They've gone.

They have gone.