Original subtitles

Hmm...

A counterfeit coin is never wasted.

This proverb is wise like all proverbs are

and true like the very same counterfeit sovereign

that yesterday noon passed to my hands.

Now, how that happened, and even at noon time...

Eh... it's a little painful indeed

to confess my stupidity and short-sightedness...

And how short-sighted I am... Good heavens!

But I imagine that the counterfeiters

who have to make a living as well, in a manner of speaking,

surely they don't design the products of their craftsmanship

for people with keen eyesight and exceptional intelligence.

Moreover, like all deceivers,

my counterfeit sovereign has got a flawless appearance.

And this is my only excuse

and at the same time my only hope

that it won't be difficult for me to find

someone even more short-sighted in turn

and less clever than me to pass it on.

What the...!

Yet unfortunately...

until that felicitous moment comes

when I manage to dispose of its dubious burden

it'll always keep lying deep in my pocket

telling me its story...

A story strange...

sometimes sombre, sometimes buoyant

and, now and then, dramatic...

Let's hear it from the beginning.

Don't expect any sensational and adventurous crime story

with gangsters, bank robberies

gunshots and bizarre mysteries...

In Greece, what a shame,

to crime writers' regret, there aren't such things.

The artist that became con artist was named Anargyros.

Anargyros was a simple little man, an 'old school' type.

'Antica casa' as they say.

Like his borsalino hat that was his favourite

and was a symbol of his very own dignity.

- Good morning! - Good morning, Mr Anargyros.

- Did you sleep well last night? - Why ask? Did I snore?

Did I snore again, Mrs Dimitra?

Good people snore when they have a clear conscience.

I see... I snored again like a freight train.

- A little flower? - Thanks. Goodbye!

Have a nice day! Take care! May Holy Mother bless you!

That's how amiable Anargyros woke up each morning

leaving his small bachelor room at 7.30

relaxed and cheerful on the way to open his workshop...

This engraver had a lifelong dream

to engrave a silver church iconostasis, God willing...

because Anargyros was a good Christian.

Every morning he would make the sign of the cross

in front of Hagioi Anargyroi Church,

his patron Saints who have got his name

and give his regular alms to the beggar down the corner

who, after so many years, would recognize him by the way he walks

and start in advance all his pleas and thanksgivings.

At 8 a.m. sharp, Anargyros would arrive at the busy central market

where his little shop was located, deep within a shopping arcade.

ANARGYROS LOUBARDOPOULOS Engraver

Good morning, Mr Anargyros.

- Good morning. - A little coffee?

We've said 'coffee and smoking cut!'

A coffee won't hurt you.

Ho!

Maybe the shop was too small but Anargyros was a great talent.

Seals, signs, miniatures, engravings on rings, on watches...

and a whole lot of other jobs engravers do...

Blame it on his let's say foolish honesty

that made him working like a dog for twenty years

under the green tin lampshade

in that sunless and depressive shop of the arcade.

Morning!

- Oh! Welcome Mr Papadopoulos! - No Papadopoulos.

Pap! That's right!

- Pap! - I'm sorry.

I just forgot you who migrated to America

have your surnames shortened.

Here you are, Mr Pap! Your watch is ready.

It is a terrible thing, Mr Anargyros

to come back from America after so many years

and instead of my father in his village

I found only his watch...

Thankfully, you did find at least the watch.

Here it is.

See how pretty the monogram I engraved looks.

Do you like it? DP.

My late father!

Ah! Poor old Pap!

Pardon me.

That one was whole Papadopoulos!

- No Pap. He'd never gone to America. - Okay, Mr Anargyros.

Well...

there are not even in New York City

such artists like you!

You're wasting yourself here in Greece.

It's absolutely true that I'm wasting myself.

If you were to come to New York City...

I know. From Loubardopoulos I would have become Loub.

Yes but you could have made lots of dollars

Dollars! Dollars!

Well, how much was our deal?

One hundred thousand. But you'll give only sixty.

Sixty? Why?

I put less gold than I calculated.

So there are still honest people in Greece!

Eh! It wouldn't feel right to fool you.

- My compliments! - How could I?

My compliments, Mr Anargyros!

- Well, we said, sixty thousand. - That's right.

That means two dollars...

Take ten!

- Ten? - Goodbye and see you soon.

Ten?

Have a nice trip, Mr Pap!

Pap!

So, thanks to his honest work, Anargyros managed,

scrimping on everything all the time,

to hoard some savings for old age.

His neighbour was Mr Miltiades, the broker.

Now and then, he would sell him a 'little' gold sovereign.

A time came when his sovereigns added up to one hundred.

That was his hundredth one.

Then Satan appeared disguised as Dinos,

a diabolical employee who was working at that brokerage firm

and heard about the one hundred gold sovereigns.

- So you own 100 sovereigns, Anargyros? - 100...

And all those years you've never spent a single one?

Not a single one...

I'm here to make a proposal to you.

About what? My 100 sovereigns? Nah, nah...

No, no, no...

Uh-uh! I don't like your face.

No, no...

Come on Anargyros, don't you want to make those one hundred one thousand?

- Sovereigns? - Right, sovereigns, one thousand!

- And even two, even three! - Have you lost your mind, Dinos?

Do I look crazy to you?

No but you do look nutty as a fruitcake.

Tell me Anargyros,

who made the sovereigns for the New Year's cakes last year?

- The fake ones? - That's right.

- The ads for the sweet-shop? - Yes, those ones.

Those hands that work wonders, Anargyros!

And since those hands can made the fake ones look so perfect

why couldn't then make...

...real ones, Anargyros? - What are you up to, Dinos?

- Making counterfeit ones! - Counterfeit?

With little gold outside and any metal inside...

You're going to make them and I'm going to put them in circulation.

I haven't slept a wink one single night with this plan.

It's been on my mind for a whole year.

but I dared not tell you without the capital required.

We'll get rich, Anargyros, we'll strike gold, what do you say?

Let... let me be.

I was right in not liking your face from the very beginning!

Nah-nah...

So you're a big rascal!

Nah-nah...

And Mr Miltiadis has given you a job in his firm?

What a disaster fell on him!

Let me tell him what kind of lot his employee is.

Don't talk nonsense, Anargyros! We'll get rich!

What do you say, eh?

- All right, we'll talk again. - There's nothing to say.

Out! Get out of my workshop! Get out of here!

We'll talk again, Anargyros!

I'll come by the little tavern where you eat.

Get thee behind me Satan!

Don't be an idiot, Anargyros!

As long as the earth exists,

millions of men sweat from dawn to dusk just for one reason.

To make some money, Anargyros!

But you don't need to sweat for money

when you can make it yourself.

Don't you understand?

You can make gold sovereigns with your own hands!

These hands that work wonders, Anargyros...

Let me... let me be, Dinos!

Don't bugger me about! For Christ's sake!

I've no wish to see these hands that work wonders as you say

like this... in handcuffs.

Get thee behind me Satan!

Drop these silly hesitations, Anargyros!

- What does honesty mean anyway? - Lord have mercy on us!

Honesty means having a clear conscience, my mate Dinos!

Going home at night, lying down to bed,

getting a deep sound sleep

and snoring like a freight train. That's what honesty means

...to sleep tranquilly. - With a clear conscience!

- That's right, sir! - Yes Anargyros

but when you have money,

you can leave your conscience sleep alone

while you sleep with the best mistress.

- Eh? - What 'eh', poor Anargyros?

Don't women mean anything to you?

Those elegant, stupendous,

those scandalising women getting around in Athens?

Ah... women!

Ah, ah...

Oh!

Uh-oh! Get thee behind me Satan!

Yet Satan didn't get any behind but moved forward

putting in action the most effective and biggest means.

Hold it a moment! What's this all about?

Where are you dragging me to? To Psychiko? To wilderness?

Stop complaining, Anargyros! We're there! That's the house.

Bah! Bah! No, I won't get in!

What are you afraid of? Are they going to eat you?

You'll only make the acquaintance of a very charming and nice lady.

Hagioi Anargyroi, my namesake saints, help me!

That Beelzebub has stuck to me like a leech!

Beelzebub's tricks are as old as Adam and Eve

when he lured Adam in committing sin.

It has been falsely rumoured that the dirty business was done by the serpent.

Eve was the instrument of Satan.

Dinos has explained the plan in every detail, Mr Anargyros.

I accept with pleasure to afford my basement for this job.

Your basement is nice,

everything about you is nice, you're nice,

still I don't approve of that.

Don't be afraid, Anargyros? What's there to fear?

Nobody's going to discover us here.

Ms Fifi lives all alone here since she got her divorce.

She hasn't even got any domestic service! Understand?

I do but it's you who doesn't realize what you're asking me to do.

From artist to become a con artist!

Who? Me, an honest man! An honest artist!

Always the same over again!

Oh Anargyros! Always the same over again.

I've had enough with you. Enough!

Don't press the poor man, Dinos,

since you can see it's not a matter of fear for him.

It's a question of moral principle!

Moral principle!

Bravo, Ms Fifi. Rightly said.

Listen to her. Tell him about! Tell him.

This matter is over. Let's not talk about it any more.

It's a pity.

Let's talk about something else, then.

What else, dear Ms Fifi?

- Sorry to inconvenience you like this. - But not at all!

This is your single visit at my place. I won't let you leave like this.

Please be seated.

Be seated, Mr Anargyros.

- I am! - Great.

- Take a seat, Anargyros. - I did.

- You're so daft, Anargyros! So daft! - Please Dinos,

we just said this talk is...

Don't insist, Dinos.

We're going to have a drink, to have a small talk.

There are so many other interesting things in life

- Don't you agree? - I do. It's Dinos who doesn't.

Here you are, Dinos.

And we're going to have a great evening.

So there were many more great evenings,

more delightful even,

with more interesting subjects of discussi�n

with laughter, a sip of whisky and increasing intimacy.

And little by little Anargyros was being ripened like a fruit ready to drop...

He had become a regular at Psychiko's mansi�n.

For a month now, every afternoon, he longed for the moment when

he could take the way up there from Athens, together with Dinos

to fall ahead time into Fifi's embrace.

Well, there... it was impossible to tear himself away.

He couldn't help it!

Love started burning in his meek heart like a wild fire

and Ms Fifi was spinning masterfully a spider's web around him

according to the preconceived Satan's plan.

Listen to me, Fifi. Today Anargyros will come up alone.

I told him I got a job and I'll join you later.

All right, sweetheart. Come as late as possible.

Yes but... there's no reason to 'encourage' him too much, okay?

Are you jealous, darling, of this moronic man of naught?

Asking me If I am jealous? Even of my own shadow!

But tell me... are you sure he can make us those gold sovereigns?

He's a talent, my dear! He's amazing!

Fine then, you don't need to worry.

He's such an idiot that I'll get him round

without letting him lay a finger on me.

All right, darling. Good luck!

And remember... not a finger, okay?

How pretty your flowers are, Mr Anargyros.

How pretty your little house, dear Fifi!

- Pretty but sadly... - Sadly?

- Why 'sadly'? - Because next Spring

I'll have to give it away according to divorce decree...

- Is it your husband's? - Yes, it is.

Furniture, paintings, curios... everything!

- Even the curios? - Those ones, too!

Spring will find me down-and-out.

It doesn't matter.

- All that happened thanks to Dinos. - Dinos?

Yes, he made me divorce my husband.

I'll tell you my troubles sometime.

Was it Dinos that made you divorce your husband?

That's right. Divorce my husband!

who was a real gentleman,

good-natured, well-to-do... never mind.

I fell victim to him.

His beautiful words succeeded at luring me away.

As regards words, Dinos...

You're telling me! He's a real pro in fooling you with words.

The guy talks so much rubbish! Bleh! Bleh!

That how I was taken in, Mr Anargyros!

In the end... I became his mistress.

- Human weakness, Mr Anargyros. - Human weakness, dear Ms Fifi.

One day... you see...

- My husband caught us... - He caught you out!

- That's human too, madam. - In the act...

It serves me right, now. I deserve the punishment.

How can I live in poverty? It's unthinkable!

In the very end I'll become one of those women...

- A... - Holy Virgin, don't say it!

- Don't say such a thing! - A... typist!

Don't tell me these things! What a disaster!

- Or... a manicurist! - Uh-oh, that'd be quite a comedown!

- I think I'll kill myself in the end! - No! No!

No such things! No such things, Holy Mother!

Oops! No such things! I don't want such things!

Why crying now, Ms Fifi? Why this mood?

Please tell me something for consolation.

Struggle for a living is a good thing, madam!

Struggle for a living is the most beautiful thing in life!

- Struggle for a living? - Certainly!

- Struggle for a living? - Certainly.

You dare tell me this, Mr Anargyros?

If it's true what Dinos said,

in order to save no more than 100 sovereigns...

which for me are not enough...

for a year's perfumes and flowers.

One hundred sovereigns for perfumes and flowers!

Exactly! These one hundred sovereigns for which

you've spent your whole life

giving up everything! - Everything.

Every delight in your life, women... love...

Even coffee!

And you try to tell how good struggle for a living is...

What else is to say, Ms Fifi?

Poor me! What more can I do?

Haven't I had cravings?

Trips... luxuries... women...

love... coffee!

Then come to my rescue, Mr Anargyros!

Rescue me from struggling for a living,

from degradation, from eviction from suicide!

Save me, keep me to yourself!

And I'll be yours, your slave!

How could I keep you to myself on my lousy 100 sovereigns?

- Not these... the other ones! - Which ones?

- The counterfeit! - The counterfeit?

Yes, make me sovereigns, Mr Anargyros, many sovereigns, do it for my sake!

- But to dishonour myself? - Yes, to dishonour yourself

- Wouldn't my eyes deserve it? - God, they make me feel dizzy.

- We'll travel together. - Together!

Together to Venice! To Paris!

To Venezuela! To Congo! To Thessaloniki!

We'll stay at the grandest hotels!

- Together! - Together!

We'll dance at the most famous cabarets!

- Together! - Together!

- But I don't know how to dance! - You don't know?

I'm going to teach you!

- Let's do it! - Follow me, then!

You're going to enjoy now what you've missed in your life.

- Now! - Now!

Dance is a tight grip, an erotic mood...

- Like this. - Like this.

That's how Dinos lead me astray.

It's not my own fault, Mr Anargyros.

- I'm so easily lead astray! - I see.

- It's Dinos! - Dammit Dinos!

You're spoiling it! Did you have to ring the bell now?

- Don't move. - I'm not going anywhere.

- Mr Anargyros has gone. - Is he gone? When?

- Just a few minutes ago! - Where is he headed?

This way! Hurry up to catch him at the bus stop!

This way? I'm running fast!

Is he running?

- He is. - Let him run!

And now...

Let's get on with our chat, Mr Anargyros.

- Where had we stopped? - We had stopped right here...

Take me into your arms, Mr Anargyros!

- Take me into your arms! - Why not?

Why not!

Let us move our camera away from the scene

so it will not be rated as unsuitable for the underage

although nowadays the underage know a lot more than we do.

Let's go the round of the room then. Let's show vases... flowers...

statuettes... paintings etc

as foreign films do in similar scenes...

Although our scene is rather didactic because it is showing...

'showing' in a manner of speaking, anyway, is teaching us

how easily a simple fellow like Anargyros can be lead astray

and how a woman can even trick Satan himself.

How come you've taken such decisi�n all of a sudden, Anargyros?

Don't ask how! What matters is that I've made up my mind.

And since I have, nothing can hold me back!

We must make sovereigns, lots of sovereigns!

5000, 10,000, 20,000!

Good Lord! What are you trying to do?

Just tell me, did Ms Fifi talk you into this?

Eh... she had her small finger in the pie...

Her finger? What do you mean by that?

Skip the questions if you please. Give me time to think.

My hands, that work wonders as you say, are not enough...

We need tools... equipment...

which are far too expensive!

But...

I hope my 100 sovereigns will be enough.

I just hope...

And so, the one hundred sovereigns of Anargyros

began to fly away one by one at a lightning speed

so as the basement in Psychico's mansi�n was transformed

into a perfect counterfeiter's laboratory...

A laboratory bench... 5 sovereigns

A punch press... 12 sovereigns.

A metalworking lathe... 27 sovereigns.

A forge hearth... 6 sovereigns.

Precisi�n balance scales... 9 sovereigns.

And many more gadgets we usually see in criminological museums...

The total sum: 100 sovereigns.

That wretch Anargyros paid them all.

He spent all his nest egg for Fifi's sake

who went down to the basement to admire the laboratory and her victim...

Thus, an effort started in which Anargyros invested all his capital...

all his craftsmanship...

all his love...

A hard effort that started with the hard metals...

First, he needed to make the moulds...

After that, he carved the patterns...

There, Anargyros put all his talent...

All his talent! And Fifi put hers...

Then Anargyros weighted the metals with precisi�n...

he calculated the carats correctly...

he stoked up the fire of his hearths...

Move a bit, Ms Fifi!

and to cut the long story short, he finished all his

odd and peculiar alchemies

and the great moment came...

The great moment...

Truly great.

When after so much hard work, so much anguish, so many torments,

the first sovereign came out at last...

A sovereign perfectly round, brand-new and glittering...

A single counterfeit sovereign that alas...

cost one hundred real ones!

What's wrong with us? Did the cat eat our tongue?

Good Lord! This is a sovereign!

We are rich! We are rich!

We are... rich, we are rich!

We are rich! We are rich!

Calm down, Anargyros.

It's not the right time to lose you, Anargyros!

May I touch it?

It's perfect! No difference from the real ones!

Anargyros...

- Have you got any real for comparison? - Not one.

- Do you know how much this one cost? - Yes, yes. 100 gold ones.

No!

A 20-year sentence!

It certainly looks perfect to us because it's our creature.

Our own child!

I say we must run a test to see if the others can also be tricked.

You do it, you're the one working for a brokerage firm.

No, no... that'd made me look suspicious, it's my job!

- Well, then? - You do it, Anargyros.

Me?

- You, Anargyros! - I will!

I'd stake my head on it! That much sure I am!

- Let's go, Dinos! - Not together!

- I'll be watching from a distance. - And I'll be waiting here.

- All right, do as you like. - Where are you up to like this?

- Take off these clothes! - Sure... how I could...

How could I go out like this? Take them off, silly me!

- Come on! - My... my coat...

We are rich, we are rich, kids!

- We are rich, we are... - Don't forget the sovereign!

- Courage, Anargyros! - Courage!

We are rich, we are rich, kids!

This sovereign, sir, is counterfeit!

- Counterfeit? - Listen to this...

The real ones make ding, ding, ding.

- So it's the sound after all. - Quite so, sir.

- Ding, ding... - That's right.

- Why do you look so pale? - Me?

The gold sovereign is pale.

- The sovereign is counterfeit. - Counterfeit?

- Counterfeit? - Yes, counterfeit.

It's counterfeit! (provincial accent)

Do you really say they gave me a counterfeit sovereign?

'They gave you'? What's this all? You're trembling like a leaf!

- Am I? - Yes, you are!

Hey... I remember you from somewhere...

Isn't it you who's got a shop in an arcade?

Isn't it you who made me this ring?

Gold is your job... and now you try to fool me?

What do you want me to do now?

To call the police?

Eh? The police? Get out of my sight.

Get out of my sight, you cheat! You cheat!

Anargyros got into cold sweat

and started feeling his knees knocking together

right at the moment he heard the word 'police.'

In the meanwhile, Dinos vanished

and Anargyros rushed to broker's office to bring him the bad tidings.

But there, he came in view of a spectacle

that made him fifteen years older in a moment...

The police might have kept him under close surveillance

since he started buying all those tools...

because it was Dinos that was taking Anargyros' sovereigns to go buy them.

This one might be the detective who was watching them,

the one with the grey costume and grey fedora hat.

That tall one!

Anargyros!

There was someone here asking for you three times.

How did he look that 'someone'?

- It was a tall one! - A tall one?

- Grey fedora hat, grey costume? - Exactly.

But what's going on? Cause that seemed strange to me, too.

I'll explain to you sometime. I'll explain to you.

Well, tell me. Did he asked you anything?

- Of course he did. - What?

- Where's your home. - My goodness!

- And did you tell him, Zafiris? - I did.

My goodness, Zafiris!

My goodness, you cut me to the quick, Zafiris!

My goodness!

My goodness!

- What happened, Anargyros? - My goodness! We got our fingers burnt!

- What's wrong, Anargyros? - The police fell on us.

They've arrested Dinos! A pretty pair of handcuffs!

My god! Let me sit down.

- How? When did it happen? - They had us under surveillance.

They found out about us! It was a guy so tall as the cliffs.

Grey fedora hat, grey costume.

Now he's going to arrest me and then arrest you.

You'll see in what fenced 'greenhouse' they'll shut us both.

Anargyros, save me! Save me!

Every man for himself!

The evidence, the evidence of the crime! We must hide the evidence!

- Run to the basement! At once! - Just a moment, Anargyros!

Don't abandon me, Anargyros! It was for your own sake!

- Dammit! It doesn't open. - It was for your own sake!

- For your love, Anargyros! - Bleah!

- What a stink, my god! - I'm fainting...

Well, you've been asking for flowers,

one hundred sovereigns for perfumes and flowers, eh?

Look at my one hundred sovereigns for perfumes and flowers now!

One mould... 5 sovereigns!

Another one... ten sovereigns!

Everything is... sovereigns! Sovereigns! Everything!

This is sovereigns and that is sovereigns, everything!

Stand up! Why are you sitting?

Grab the table from your side!

It's too heavy to lift!

- Dammit! It can't be lifted! - Don't give me up right now!

- I love you, Anargyros, I love you! - Don't say!

I don't give a damn about your love!

You better lend me a hand of help, my kidney hurts!

- Grab it! - I will, Anargyros. I will!

- And now? - Give me the hammer!

Quick! The partnership is dissolved!

- And now? - And now...

If you hear the bell ringing, it will be the police...

Open it and throw yourself in!

What a stink! What a stink!

What can I say to you?

Mr Anargyros hasn't showed up for several days. There he is!

Mr Anargyros! They're looking for you.

Poor Anargyros, he was now done for.

He couldn't anymore find shelter anywhere.

Anywhere... apart from the church.

(Anargyroi: Christian practitioners canonized

because they didn't accept payment for their services)

Dear Saints Anargyroi who have my name, please forgive me!

I listened to the Devil and I let myself fall into temptation.

I'm a weak human being... I couldn't help it.

It was a luckless hour, as they say. Did I harm anyone? I did not.

Only myself.

They're gone! My 100 sovereigns are gone!

It serves me right. It serves me right.

But I've regretted it! I've bitterly regretted it!

Beg your pardon? What did you say?

There's nothing you can say.

I deserve my lot.

I must go now.

I must...

- Time to arrest me. - Of course I will!

It's been three days I'm looking for you since I came from America.

- My name is George Fil. - Filippides?

No! Filippopoulos!

And Papadopoulos sent me to you.

- That is Pap? - Yes, Pap.

- And in what way Pap sent you to me? - With a recommendation!

- With a recommendation? - Yes.

Because he said to me that you are the best

and most honest artisan in Greece.

Am I the best and most honest in Greece?

- Was it Pap who said that? - Yes!

Well, Mr Anargyros, I want to build a church in my village

and I want the iconostasis all made of silver!

- All? - Yes!

But I want you to make the engravings.

All made of silver? Me?

My Saints Anargyroi! You've made your miracle!

And what were you looking for at Miltiades' office yesterday?

Ah! I went there to change dollars!

Well, there I fell upon a swindler arrested by the police.

- Someone making counterfeit sovereigns? - Oh no! He was a thief!

He had stolen money from his boss so he was arrested.

So he had not been making counterfeit sovereigns...

- No! No! - Because rumour has it...

No, brother, no!

Are you joking? What do you know about that?

How can such a thing happen in Greece?

Say that again!

How can such a thing happen in Greece?

Say that again!

Well that's how Anargyros recovered his peaceful sleep and snoring.

From con-artist he became artist again

and he restarted his old honest life...

Perhaps only on his face

one could discern a faint trace of melancholy

that 'something' that remains in the heart as a feeling of bitterness

when love comes our way and deceives us.

Every one of us has been let down by a woman,

by a love affair

by a love we took it for real and came out 'counterfeit' in the end...

Counterfeit?

True, he still had the counterfeit sovereign on him.

The last piece of evidence.

Anargyros wondered what to do with it.

He felt sorry for it.

It was his masterpiece that couldn't pass anywhere.

So, he decided to give it to the beggar who was a blind man after all.

But just a few steps away

he heard even the blind man shout...

Hey, Mister!

This one is counterfeit!

The blind beggar down the corner was by no means blind.

He was simply a professional beggar.

Sightless! Pity the poor sightless man!

Under his sorrowful and grave black glasses

he was hiding an exceptionally sharp sight

Woe betide him if the warm-hearted

policeman of the neighbourhood ever discovered him.

who was feeling sorry for him and let him solicit charity...

I hear them but I can't see them!

Here again? Didn't we say that begging is forbidden?

- Who is it, my dear child? - It's me, the policeman.

- Do you want me to lock you up? - If you can bear the thought...

I don't have my eyes! I live in darkness!

- All right! All right! Stop beefing! - Sightless!

Well, let's see

how long I can turn a blind eye to this...

There you are, this is from me.

Thank you, my dear child.

May God take days out of my life to adorn with stripes your uniform...

Sightless!

God bless your soul!

A stunner, you are!

Long live my pasha!

It stands to reason that such a blind man would get angry

with the counterfeit sovereign thrown into his hat...

Imagine! Counterfeit! For God's sake!

What did they take him for? A blind?

So, the counterfeit sovereign became his nightmare.

He had forsaken his nice corner of sure income

to wander all over Athens with his white stick

trying to find some place to cash it in.

Could you please change this sovereign, Miss?

First, I'm not a Miss.

And second, this is so much a sovereign as much I am a Miss.

- Then what is it? - Counterfeit!

How could I know since I can't see, my young man?

Sightless!

- Where did you find that? - It was sent by God.

God doesn't make them counterfeit.

Move on to the neighbourhood further down.

- Where's my fault, my belle? - Mind you, I'm in no way your belle!

Calm down, how could I know since I can't see? Sightless!

Sorry!

Sightless! Have mercy on the sightless!

Sightless! Sightless!

- Sightless! - Cool it, we can hear you!

Dear colleague, just a moment!

- Please. - Here, here.

How about buying a sovereign? Because I'm a seller!

- Sure! Where is it? - Here.

- This is a fake. - You are a fake!

Phoney!

Sightless!

This is how he used up all the day until he was overtaken by night...

Night certainly is the right time to pass a counterfeit coin...

unless it is lit up.

And our blind man cursed many times all those who

sought to turn Athens into a modern capital

with neon lights, fluorescent lamps and electric advertising signs...

He'd been everywhere seeking to cash in the sovereign

but he wandered alone through the busy streets in vain.

Some people made fun of him, some got him wrong,

some even sympathized with him but no one changed it for him.

When he lost all hope of palming it off

he came back shattered and with nerves on edge

to his usual corner of sure income

where, to his great surprise, found that his post was occupied

by an other streetwalking professional...

Handsome? Have you got a light?

Bah, why so shy? Mummy's boy!

Sightless!

Pity the poor sightless man!

God have mercy on you, poor wretch,

'cause if you expect my mercy you'll wait for nothing.

- I haven't even made the first sale... - The first sale?

Why, madam? What sort of job is that of yours?

Do you feel like blabbering? The things you hear!

I sell saint biographies...

Get out of here!

Oh, I see!

You're one of those who get dressed on credit

and get undressed in cash...

Why, are you annoyed with me?

Are you from Vice Squad or a Christian Orthodox following the old calendar?

- Nonsense! - I'm the owner of this post!

So shove off!

Oh, my bones!

Hey, what are you doing there?

Why did you install yourself there like a fakir?

I inform you that this my post from time immemorial!

Pick up your merchandise and get lost!

Don't say! Why not take your blind eyes and move further down the street?

I told you once and I tell you twice, this corner is mine!

So it is yours, huh? Where did you get that corner of yours?

Did you purchase it from Petraki Monastery?

No, I inherited it from my grandad!

This post... Steps! Shut up!

Sightless! Pity the poor sightless man!

Handsome young man, have you got a light?

- Go back to your mum! - Move it from here, Madam!

You're chasing my clients away!

- Why not you move? - Is that so? You stay out of spite?

Streets are public property and everyone's free to pursue a professi�n!

Get lost or I'll show you the way with my crook-staff!

Why? Are we going to play blind man's buff?

How could you see where to hit me, you that you're blind as a bat?

- I'll smash your head against the wall! - Unless you can see...

Sightless!

Poor me, I can't help it.

Better to keep my anger at bay.

Oh! I dropped a stitch.

Oh! Now I need a new pair...

I dropped another stitch!

A huge hole that was!

You, stone blind, you can see!

Who is so blind as he that wilfully will not see!

Are you not ashamed of cheating and pretending to be blind?

Are you not ashamed to be a cocotte?

- Shove off, you tramp! - Shut your trap, slu...

I have to precipitately interrupt the unmentionable by name insults

shouted on either side.

The cocotte flared up because the beggar called her a cocotte.

The beggar flared up because the cocotte called him a beggar.

Thus, war was declared between these two professionals of the street

that went on the following nights

A true war!

Until they ruined one another's jobs.

When a passerby came nearer to the cocotte

the beggar started wailing and spoiled any erotic mood

and when a Christian paused for a moment near the beggar

the cocotte was all smiles

that stemmed any desire for charitable deeds.

Sightless!

Pity the poor sightless man!

Have you got a light, handsome young man?

I hear them but I can't see them, poor me!

- Or you don't have a light... - Of course I do!

Sightless, I said! I haven't got my eyes!

How about going to my room to have this fag at our leisure?

Why not?

You are Christians and should guard against sin!

Come and I'll make you coffee.

- From sin, I said. - A curse on you, lousy tramp!

Bugger off or I let everybody know what sort of blind you are!

Try it and I'll tip the policeman off what sort of honest woman you are.

But as soon as the policeman learns that your sight is better than his...

Shut up, you jinx! Speak of the devil, he's coming!

- Who's coming? - The policeman!

Be careful!... Sightless!

Pity the poor sightless man!

Unload the money, shell off!

I don't have my eyes, I live in darkness!

Here, take this, my poor man.

You'll be damned if you don't give it back.

- Take this one-thousand note. - Strike me blind If

you ever see this again... Thank you, kind lady!

God will remember your sins no more! God bless you!

- Good evening! - Good evening!

- Who's there, dear child? - It's me, the policeman.

- Ah! Welcome. - Tell me...

what sort of person is the woman that gave you alms?

I've just been seeing her lately hanging about here.

How could I know, Mr Policeman, since I can't see?

- Sightless! - All right, all right! There...

...take this from me too - Thank you, kind sir!

May God take days out of my life to adorn with stripes your uniform...

Sightless!

Yet, he would sacrifice one of his eyes

to see her caught by the policeman and to be left in peace.

He hated her that much! At least as much as she hated him.

But none of them dared turn the other in

because the well-known old saying can be applied to this case:

'One thief will not rob another.'

The blind man was not only wasting his nights because of the cocotte

but he kept also wasting his days carrying on his persistent endeavour

to change that cursed sovereign by all means possible.

There was no place left to go... He went to barber-shops...

haberdasheries... carpenters' workshops...

He offered it to two hundred persons at least,

belonging to all categories, classes and professions.

Everywhere, always the same stereotyped answer...

Counterfeit!

It's impossible!

There should be at least one idiot among two-hundred who could be deceived.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, pthu

6, 7, 8, 9, 10, pthu, 11

12, 13, 14, 15, pthu

- But this is counterfeit! - Pthuuu!

It can't be helped!

It was his fate not to for once and for all

get rid of either the sovereign or the cocotte...

But... just a minute...

why didn't this cross his mind before? To give the sovereign to the cocotte...

This brilliant idea came to him as a sudden inspiration...

Only a cocotte wouldn't care to examine carefully a coin

and it would be late when she might discover it,

too late!

Besides, this would be like taking a not so disagreeable revenge,

combining business with pleasure...

Hey, what are you looking at?

- What the hell are you looking at? - Why, is it forbidden?

I'm a human being after all!

Every now and then... 'I have to stretch out my stockings',

'I have to pull up my socks,'

'I dropped a stitch here,' 'I dropped a stitch there...'

The temptation is strong...

We're young, we got eyes and we can see you!

Sightless!

- Handsome young man? - Go back to your mummy too...

- No joy, eh? - Silly!

Well, where did we stop at?

Screw you, lousy beggar, you dare give me the glad eye!

Why? Don't you fancy us, Madame de Boubadour?

Look at your face!

Look at your dog face seeking romance?

Attagirl! Keep speaking to me so smoothly.

Who spoke of romance, Ms 'Crowded Avenue'?

What are you speaking of, then?

Money.

Better gather your chicken feed

and go buy yourself an aspirin to soothe away dizziness.

Chicken feed, eh?

Poor girl! If you only knew how much I make all day long while you...

Get off my back, mangy beggar! I'm not in your high spirits tonight.

Slack business, eh? Nobody shows up at this late hour...

Now then... it's time to learn how much I make a day.

About a gold sovereign.

- Do you know the old saying? - What old saying?

If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.

Forget the horses and look at the sovereign.

- What? Bring it over here. - No way. Keep a safe distance.

- Where did you steal it from? - Me?

Thanks to my honest labour.

I invest my savings in gold...

That means... you're speaking seriously?

Ah! We changed our mind?

- Am I good-looking now? - You're hot!

You'll give me the change from the sovereign?

What change? Where to find it?

Never mind... I owe you. Future payments are due to you.

- Will you make me a coffee? - A whole cauldron to swim in.

- Sightless! - Not now silly...

Let's go now before that policeman comes

cause he's hounding me lately. - That's because you're a sucker.

I've even talked him into giving me alms...

We can't all be as smart as you are, my little bird...

There! I've become a little bird!

Come on and I'll give you some birdseed...

Be quiet, so we won't wake the people upstairs.

- Where's your room? - Into the yard, down to the basement.

- Oh! A dragon's snoring. - No, it's my landlady.

- Don't hurry so much. - I'm in a hurry, take my word for that.

Prostitution... Let's not judge too harshly.

It has its place in society too ever since society was made.

How many unloved,

how many handicapped, how many underprivileged

have been looking for love in the paid illusi�n of a flesh without soul

thirsty for a few moments of human tenderness...

How many unable to be loved have paid for this false warmth

against this dubious scenery which is always the same everywhere,

in all corners of the worid...

A cheap room, a double bed...

A kitschy lampshade, usually red...

and a little of imagination...

The work of imagination is what most matters, after all.

As Diogenes said "All women are the same, when the candle goes out."

As regards paying... the matter is not so important.

Men always pay, beyond prostitution as well.

The baker, the butcher...

the jeweller, the power company, the rent...

Cocottes are in this regard more sincere and more affordable...

They demand a fixed price...

I reckon you won't be going without leaving the sovereign with me.

What?

It's all right! Let me put on my clothes, we got plenty of time...

What plenty of time? Dawn has broken.

Be nice and leave as soon as possible to let me sleep a little more...

Oh, I'm so sleepy!

You're a fine girl, you know.

- What's your name? - Maria.

How strange life is!

We hated each other so much, till yesterday.

Still, today... How can I put it?

I regret treating you so nastily from the very first time I met you.

Let bygones be bygones. We've called a truce.

Come on, hand over the sovereign and you'll be okay.

All about money, eh?

I wish I had a whole lot of money...

First of all, I wouldn't be that rotten cheat I am.

Now you'd be right to ask why I had to act the blind...

Firstly, out of laziness, secondly, I had another thought.

Cannot one million of idiots in Athens help a smart one make a living?

As for you... I'd make you swim in gold.

I'd give you anything your heart desires

I really mean it.

Tell me Maria, what would you do if you had a lot of money?

I'd sleep all alone.

You're right.

Let's give you the sovereign to get it over with.

Life's that cruel.

- Where's the sovereign? - I have holes in my pocket.

You think it dropped off somewhere in here?

I'm turning my clothes into rags, you see, for professional reasons.

It must have slipped off me in the street.

Don't search for it in vain, Maria...

It seems I wasn't meant to cheat you.

To cheat me? What are you trying to say?

Whether taking it or not it would be just the same.

Why?

- It was counterfeit. - Counterfeit?

So you tried to fool me!

So I slept with you for free, bastard!

- You, shameless dirty beggar! - Watch you tongue!

Calling me a dirty beggar! Are you any better?

What am I? I'm just a decent cocotte!

- What wrong have I done to you? - What wrong?

You and your whim to take my spot!

It was a big thing to move a little further down the street!

- You slag! - How dare you?

I'll smash your head in! Dirty beggar!

You're going to kill me! Stop it, bitch!

A slag! This is what you are!

God help you, if I open my mouth

and the policeman finds it out.

He'll pick you up and lock you up.

And you, that he turns a blind eye to you, you dirty beggar,

you lousy cheat, what's he going to do with you

when he finds out you see better than him?

There, take this!

They're going to kill one another. Why don't you do anything, Mr Policeman?

I'm examining the situation, madam.

- Where's the door? - Over there.

Let's hope that we'll get rid of that immoral woman.

Dirty beggar!

Scoundrel, to call me a slut!

I'll scratch your eyes out! For real! Scoundrel!

Hands off, bitch! My glasses, my tools of work!

- Who's there? - Police! Open the door!

Open the door, I said! In the name of the law!

All right! We're not scared of you!

I'm no stranger to adversity!

There...

Bright and early...

- So this is the job you do. - What job did you think I do?

To hold the candles at Holy Week processi�n?

Come on! Let's go the police station.

- All right, don't shout! - Put something on you.

Thank you for caring about me so I won't catch a cold.

- Be quick! - All right.

As for you, Mr Blind, that I was even giving you alms...

The eye of justice sees everything. (in ancient Greek, Menander's dictum)

Sightless!

You dare try to make fun of me, eh?

Come on! Get moving!

Why are you in such a hurry, poor soul?

Get moving!

- Get moving, I said! - Sightless!

Don't 'sightless' me and move on!

So the dark corner was deserted...

An endless rain started falling monotonously

but there's no reason to feel melancholy

Rain is not always melancholic...

Sometimes, it is needed to wash the dirt away from the pavement.

Neither the cocotte nor the blind beggar showed up again.

Only the sovereign, that dropped from the hole of the pocket, was left there.

Only to be found a while later by someone else

because as we said in the beginning

a counterfeit coin is never wasted.

The story I'm going to tell you

begins a long time ago in a poor neighbourhood

deep within a back yard that was buzzing like a beehive

with cheer and children's games.

In that picturesque scene of poverty,

there was a little girl, little Fani

who was living happily.

Little Fani!

What are you doing there, my little girl?

Shoo! Go away! Go!

Feeding kitties again?

- But the cat is hungry, mummy! - Yes but she can't have your bread!

Poor father does not work all day to feed alley cats!

- Eh, my little doll? - Yes, mummy.

That's a good girl! Now, you have it!

- Little Fani! - The doll! The doll!

Eep! What do I get first?

A little kiss.

Ah, my little �ngel! Ah, my little doll!

Now take yours.

Mummy! Mummy!

Back then, little Fani was carefree with her mummy and her dad

and all were living together happily in the small room of the yard.

Father was a hand-to-mouth whitewasher.

He was working hard with his brushes and his whitewash

but with the little money he made

the tiny room lacked nothing

and got its monthly paint refresh

shining like a pure white picture of family happiness.

The whitewasher wanted to be that pure in his life too.

He despised being in anyone's debt,

and if sometimes there was an unpaid bill

he had his whitewash brush at hand to write-off the debt...

Hey, Mr Panagiotis!

I have a debt to your shop.

Shall I whitewash it and get even?

- Are you out of work again, Anastasis? - Crisis! Crisis, Mr Panagiotis!

Fill our bottle with olive-oil too

and you'll get a first-class whitewashing for nothing!

All right, I'll do it for you sake. Fani, give me that bottle!

Anastasis' brush was joyfully erasing the debts.

So, employing this strategy, the conscientious hard-working man

he was, more or less, making ends meet.

Nobody ever said no to him.

Whitewashing for almost nothing

was really appreciated by all tidy shopkeepers.

So the whitewash brush made wonders in all times of difficulty

and did justice to Anastasis

even at the corner shop

where Fani, his little �ngel, got her caramels from.

So, Anastasis had made it to whitewash all neighbourhood's shops in a row.

However, there was one and only man that

couldn't be trifled with whitewashing and remained dark and dismal.

His landlord, Mr Mavrides (Mr Black)...

I'm in no need of whitewashing!

I don't want it. I want the rent, the money!

What a nerve!

To turn me into a construction site for paying me off!

But, Mr Mavrides, you own the whole block

and you haven't had your house painted since the First Worid War!

That's how I like it! Right! From the First Worid War!

It's my right! It's my house! I can set it on fire if I like to!

All right, Mr Mavrides! Don't get upset!

You'll have a stroke!

Help yourself to one of those, you jinx!

- The same thing every first of month! - I've got no money, Mr Mavrides!

- How can I find it? - By hook or by crook!

Get the money by tomorrow,

or I'll summon you and have you evicted!

You won't have my head, I'll have yours!

- The rent, Miss Maria. - I have it ready for you.

Please, come in.

The old miser!

For 30 lousy drachmas you'll end up homeless!

I'm sure of that.

The other day he took Pantelis to court.

His furniture was taken outside, in the street, Anastasis!

- In the street! - The rascal!

Spoiled my appetite! Damned old stiff!

He has neither children nor pets, no one to inherit his fortune.

Will he take all that money to the grave?

He also makes loans with interest! He sucks people's blood!

By God, Mr Anastasis!

- He sucks people's blood! - I know!

He can even kill for a drachma!

Come, my Fani! Eat up now!

- No more, mummy! - Eat up, my sweet, please!

Eat it or I'll call Mr Mavrides and he'll eat it and you along, too!

Does he really kill people and drink their blood, dad?

Sure he does!

He makes a mouthful of children who don't eat up!

Haap!

Come now, eat! Eat! He's gone!

Eat or he'll suck you all in!

So, Mr Mavrides became Fani's bogeyman or nigger (sic!)

or whatever stupidity grownups traumatize children's souls with.

Every night she had a horrible nightmare:

You won't have my head, I'll have yours!

The rent! I want the rent!

You won't have my head, I'll have yours!

- What is it my child? - Mr Mavrides!

Calm down, now! It was only a dream!

Mr Mavrides!

In other words, Fani was so scared of him

that she imagined Mr Mavrides not as human anymore

but as a fairytale dragon killing people and sucking blood.

Well well well now! Who's this nice little girl?

Good heavens!

- What's this smell? - Our meal, Vasilis dear! It's ready.

I know that.

But what's the menu? Smells like meat.

- It is meat, dear. - Why?

We had meat the day before yesterday. Again?

It's not the end of the worid, Vasilis dear!

I thought of making your favourite roast beef.

It's not my favourite! How can that be?

At 42 drachmas a pound! How can it be my favourite?

Just think of it! 42 a pound!

- How much did you get? - A pound.

- A pound? Why? - How much should I get?

300 drams would suit us fine! There's only two of us!

But we have a visitor today, did you forget?

Your nephew, Kostas.

That phoney lawyer? How about that?

Does he have meat at home daily

always fishing for clients, this good-for-nothing?

He's family, Vasilis dear!

You never pay him for his services to you as a solicitor.

Pity me if I had to pay my nephews!

Why spend money over Kostas?

Meat! Just think of that! 42 a pound!

No more, Vasilis dear! That's enough!

Stop it! I can't stand it anymore!

Now, wait a minute, woman. What's with you?

What's with me, Vasilis dear? I can't stand hearing you anymore!

Why meat, how much for meat...

Why take this, why choose that...

I can't stand it. Too much simmering for me all these years!

Come now, Evanthia, stop crying.

No, let me! All these years I've had this need to speak out!

Or did we ever have a child to inherit us?

You didn't even give me that, out of thrift!

You big penny-pincher�

Come on, woman.

Why grudge me? Do I not love you?

Did I ever flirt around?

No, Vasilis. You are a good man.

Good but... money�.

If not for this handicap of yours, we'd be so happy.

What's with all our fortune, and owning the whole block

and all the rents we collect?

Look in the yard!

The whitewasher and his wife are richer,

without a dime but with their girl,

their little �ngel!

She really looks like an �ngel, a pretty little girl!

I really feel like stroking her head when I meet her

But she always starts shrieking!

Why, Vasilis dear? What's she got against you?

I wish I knew!

- Your nephew, Kostas! - Okay, let him in.

Hello, Kostas! Welcome, dear boy!

Good morning, auntie!

I'll be right back!

- Good morning, uncle! - Welcome, dear Kostas.

How are you, uncle?

Can you smell it? Nice and roasted meat!

Come, have a seat!

Rent controls! Why rent controls?

It's a public necessity, uncle! A housing shortage issue!

So much for a lawyer to speak like that!

Three dimes for a rent, 42 drachmas a pound for meat!

Merchants raise flannel prices, shoemakers revel in theirs!

Public necessity indeed! Then not only rent controls

but also 'meat controls', 'flannel controls' and 'shoe controls'!

- Have another orange! - Thanks.

Now... for evictions...

Two are next in line: A greengrocer and a whitewasher.

- What? Are you having them evicted? - Since they don't pay�

No, Vasilis dear. It's a sin! They're poor people.

Hold it, woman! They are staying for free by the damned rent control!

- Should I treat them to it? - Don't be cruel, Vasilis dear!

No court yet. Ask them once again!

Please, do it for the little girl!

Don't I deserve a favour, then?

Well, all right! For your sake.

Don't proceed evicting them.

- I'll try once more. - All right, uncle.

Come on, kitty!

Now, that mum and dad are out I'll feed you a plentiful of bread!

Eat it now! Why don't you?

You're a bad kitty, you know that?

Eat up or I'll call Mr Mavrides

and he'll have it and eat you along, too!

Good morning, Mr Mavrides!

You still owe me some stamp duty, Miss Maria, don't forget that.

Come on, kitty, eat it!

Well well well, they left you all alone here?

Anybody else here?

Shush, don't shriek!

Why start shouting whenever you see me, honey?

Are you playing here with the kitty?

Good Heavens!

Hey, lass, why hide under the bed?

Come out, honey, I won't eat you!

You're lying, you'll eat me!

What's that talk, now? Why, sweetie?

- Anyone told you that I eat people? - Yes, and you suck their blood, too.

- Who says I do? - Mum and dad, and everyone else.

Nobody loves you in this yard

because every month you come asking for the rent.

Really?

- Is that why you don't love me, too? - Yes.

- Because I'm afraid you'll eat me! - Don't worry, I won't.

I'm very fond of you. Is this your dolly?

This is it. Dad gave it to me and I gave him a kiss.

What about me? If I let go off the rent, would you give me a kiss?

- No. - Why?

Because you'd never let go off the rent.

- You're a miser! - A miser?

Is that what your parents call me?

Yes and my dad says that you're a damned old stiff

who will die and take your money to the grave!

Your dad should bite his tongue, all right!

You won't have my head, I'll have yours!

Don't eat me, Mr Mavrides!

Help! He's eating me!

- Fani! - Mummy!

- What's going on, sweetie? - Is that so, madam?

I'm a miser who'll take his money to the grave?

- Who says such things Mr Mavrides? - You, your husband and the whole yard!

- This child told me. - Did she now?

A child and a moron always speak the truth!

- No, Mr Ma� - What's all this fuss about?

Hold your horses, Mr Mavrides,

harassing my wife and child!

Daddy, daddy!

He's here to eat us all and suck our blood!

- Hush, baby! - There you have it!

Are you not ashamed, you rascal, to frighten your child saying

I eat men and suck their blood? - Why? Are these lies?

You could kill for a drachma!

Because I demand my rents, eh?

I shouldn't have listened to my wife

and I should have taken you to court!

How charitable of you! Your lousy rent!

All right then, take us to court!

Pity we have no money to throw it to your face!

- See you tomorrow, in court then! - As you wish, old stiff!

- You rascal! - You miser!

- You tramp! - You grabber!

Quiet! This is a court, not a yard!

Yes, Your Honour! I came here for justice!

Quiet!

To throw me out for 30 lousy drachmas, Your Honour!

Quiet or I'll lock you up both!

- Please, uncle! - You mind yours!

Anastasis, stay put!

If you don't pay what's due, I cannot help you.

But I don't have it, Your Honour! We don't have it, Your Honour!

The only I can do is to set a deadline for the end of the month.

- Thank you, Your Honour! - Let's go, Kostas!

You're good-for-nothing! You never said a word!

I want my money by the end of the month!

I'll work and pay you off!

Quiet!

You see him, fighting over 30 lousy drachmas, Your Honour?

Will the miser take it to the grave with him?

Who died, dear? You don't know, lady?

- No. - The one in the coffin!

Get lost, you little brats!

Unfortunately, the one in the coffin was Anastasis...

In this rotten worid of ours,

most of the time the wrong things happen.

So instead of the old miser taking his money to the grave

the poor whitewasher passed away first.

'The Lord works in mysterious ways.'

Shortly after starting work in a construction site,

he slipped and fell in a pit,

a horrible end for a lifelong hard labourer.

So, little Fani became an orphan.

She and mother cried their hearts out

and their life abruptly changed course.

Their small white room suddenly turned black,

and mother started washing clothes for a living

and ended up sick with a high fever.

Hush, now!

Little Fani, like an �ngel with her wings cut off,

took on the streets with a little flower basket in hand

She stole the flowers from the cemetery every morning

from the graves lying next to her father's...

Have a small bunch from the orphan!

'Have a small bunch from the orphan!'

People simply passed by, indifferent.

Fani thought of going back to the neighbourhood,

to the shopkeepers who knew her and would sympathize.

But no gain!

Neither the grocer...

nor the butcher...

no one bought even one flower.

Then she started realizing how cruel society is

at her only nine years of age.

She tried coffee-shops, parks, big avenues

kindly offering her flowers to strangers

Have a little bunch from the orphan!

Some bought...

Some didn't...

Autumn passed and winter came.

And Fani exhausted from fatigue, cold and hunger

every night returned to sick mother's bedside

and counted her miserable income...

- Were you cold, baby? - I sold flowers today, mummy.

Ah, honey...

There...

Get half a pound of bread

and 100 drams of olives.

Okay, my little �ngel?

- Yes, mummy. - Good girl!

Also drop in at Mrs Mary's flat

and tell her I'll go and wash her clothes tomorrow.

Are you crazy, Sofia, to get up and start washing again with a fever?

Don't you worry, we are here for you.

- I brought you some soup. - Thanks, Mrs Polykseni.

And some meat for little Fani. Little Fani?

- Thank you. - Poor darling!

How come I got such a nasty cold, Polykseni!

- It'll go! Have you got a fever? - I have.

Oh, yes you have.

Now have some soup.

I have to get up and wash clothes

�cause I have to pay the miser's rents!

Was the greengrocer evicted finally?

The greengrocer was summoned and paid his debt.

He did, eh? How will I pay?

- What day is it today? - The 18th of December.

Oh, my God!

Almost the 1st of the month, and he'll also want the January rent.

1st of the month! Why not say New Year's Day?

A hopeless New Year's Day, dear Mrs Polykseni!

Hush, now!

Don't cry, mummy!

I don't want you to!

I'm not crying, �ngel. I'm not.

Your dinner, Fani!

- Wait, kitty! - The darned cat!

I have no more meat left for you, dolly!

(New Year's Eve traditional carols)

What a great New Year's Day with all rents left unpaid!

Black New Year's Day!

- What is it again, Vasilis dear? - New Year's Day is the worst for me.

How can I ask for the rent on such a day?

- What are you scribbling there? - What else? Issuing rent receipts.

For the love of Christ, dealing with rents...

the day before New Year's Day?

The day of Saint Vasileios? Your name day?

My name day all right! That's another thrill!

All relatives will come over for the pie with the golden coin in it.

You see, there has to be a golden coin so I get some name day wishes.

Whereas they really wish me to bite the dust and inherit my money!

Stop nagging, Vasilis dear, and give me some money

for shopping 'cause we don't have much time left.

What? You will go shopping?

You are capable of emptying a shop alone!

- All right, you go then! - I will, then!

I will, woman.

'Saint Vasileios is coming from Kaesaria.' (carol verse)

He should have stayed there and save us the trouble!

'Saint Vasileios is coming from Kaesaria' carrying gifts

and offering joy to all children of the earth.

All but little Fani...

She remembered her dad when he brought her the doll

and received a kiss.

Those were happy times!

They seemed so distant now

although only three months had passed from the death of her beloved father.

Tragic irony of fate had Fani find the sovereign in the street.

At first she thought it was a button

but when she saw it glimmering, she became curious and kept it.

I found this in the street, mummy.

It's a... sovereign.

A gold sovereign!

God's mercy upon us, Fani! We're saved!

We'll pay off the miser

and have the rest for New Year's Day, my baby!

Now, go change it at the grocer's, Mr Panagiotis, okay?

- Right away, mum. - But be very careful, honey!

Be careful! Don't let them cheat you! Keep your eyes open!

- Where did you get it? - In the street.

It's no good, child, it's counterfeit.

Counterfeit? What's 'counterfeit'?

- How much do you owe? - 40 drachmas.

If it were genuine, you wouldn't have found it in the street, child!

Real sovereigns are not found in streets.

She tried them all. The baker, the greengrocer...

even the corner shop who sold her sweets.

It's of no value, Fani!

Why don't you give it to me for the shop window

and I'll give you a caramel for it?

Fani recalled her mother's words:

'Don't let them cheat you!'

They all wanted to cheat her.

Embittered as she was, she started back to her small room.

While the miser was walking on New Year's Eve,

how was it possible!

With a pound in her hands?

Little Fani!

Why are you in tears, honey?

I hope you won't start shrieking again?

- No... - Not afraid of me anymore, eh?

Not anymore, I'm a grownup now.

Good for you, dolly! Now, tell me

- Why are you in tears? - I found a sovereign in the street.

- A sovereign? - Yes.

Mother sent me out to change it

so as to pay off your rents. - And you lost it?

- No, I didn't. - A sovereign.

Let me see!

Why didn't you come straight to me? I'd change it for you, child!

What a great luck on New Year's day!

What's 'counterfeit', Mr Mavrides?

- Counterfeit? - Yes. No one would change it for me.

They said it's counterfeit.

Let me check it in the light spot.

Ha!

Counterfeit!

Mr Kostas wanted me to exchange it for a caramel.

Mother said we'll have a New Year's Day with this one

but now we'll be left with no food.

- No one would change it, eh? - No one.

Your mum is still sick in bed?

Yes, she is.

All right.

I'll change it for you.

Is a sovereign worth all this money?

Keep the rents out of this.

If I let go off the rents, would you give me a kiss?

I would.

Give it, then! What are you waiting for?

Since my daddy died,

no one gave me anything apart from you.

No one loves me anymore,

nor do they give anything for free.

the greengrocer, the grocer, the butcher...

Nobody buys flowers from me either!

Are you selling flowers then?

I pick them up in the cemetery, from rich people's graves

that are near the grave of my poor dad.

You won't have to again, Fani.

I'd like to be your dad from now on.

You will want for nothing anymore.

My little daughter!

Would you like it if I called you that?

If I took up the place of your daddy in your heart?

How's that, honey?

Do you want me to?

Bah, I'm in tears...

There...

Now, run to mummy

and give her this piece of meat to cook.

Come back here!

Here's some spaghetti, too.

Take this, too.

Take this and this...

Now run along, Fani.

Shall I tell her you gave me all these things?

No, it was Saint Vasilis!

He who carries gifts for children

every New Year's Eve.

Vasilis, still here? Haven't you gone shopping yet?

No, I was just about to.

Wait! I also need the golden coin for the pie!

Does it really have to be a golden one?

But you know, Vasilis dear, there's no other way!

It's the custom for the year's good luck!

That's how we got it from our fathers and grandfathers.

All right, no shouting! So, you want a golden coin?

There you have your golden coin!

Happy New Year, dear Vasilis!

Happy New Year!

I guess there's no better New Year's gift

than the customary golden coin in New Year's cake.

unless the golden coin is counterfeit�

This time the sovereign was found by two persons at the same time

because the knife hit the coin right between two pieces of the cake,

Aliki's piece and Pavlos' piece�

This was considered a great sign of good luck

for a couple of newlyweds in love like Pavlos and Aliki were.

And the new year started full of dreams and hope

in their humble penthouse love nest.

This sovereign is all our fortune...

Indeed!

- We have nothing else besides that. - What about our love, Pavlos?

- Say 'no regrets'! - Regrets about what?

That we eloped.

Aliki, I'm poor.

I could never provide anything up to your former life.

Why poor?

You're forgetting this. Our sovereign!

Say we'll never give it away.

We'll always keep it, as a token of our love.

I swear, my love! We'll never ever spend it.

Our pretty little sovereign?

So, what's there to eat today?

No idea!

As my legal spouse

you're now responsible for that!

Agreed?

Yes, of course...

but when we eloped the other day I hadn't in mind that we need to eat.

We were lucky enough yesterday!

We went to wish that stingy uncle of yours a happy name day

and he kept us for dinner. - And we also won the sovereign...

- Any other uncles for today? - Let me see...

- Well, I've got a very distant one... - How distant?

Oh... he's living in Kalavryta

Darling... Let's spend it then!

Oh no! We swore never to. Give it to me.

Yesterday I saw a savings pot over there.

There it is!

Where did you ever find this really? What sort of savings pot is this?

- It's a model. - What model?

- I once sketched a bank ad... - An ad?

You know, a hand dropping a coin in the pot

and it is written below �Save your money inside�!

- Did you get paid for that? - I did!

- No kidding? - Of course.

I spent it all but I still have the pot.

Don't worry, Pavlos!

I believe one day you'll be famous.

Your paintings will sell like hot cakes!

And I'll be your wife.

The famous artist's wife...

I love you, Pavlos!

I love you!

Just a moment!

Say that once again.

I love you!

Come, come here. Sit up there quick.

What's wrong with you?

- Come, say it. - I love you!

Don't move an inch!

That's it!

This 'something' I've been searching all my life!

The subject!

This will be the greatest painting of my life.

I love you.

A woman's expressi�n saying 'I love you.'

- I love you. - Don't move, sweet Aliki!

That's how Da Vinci painted Gioconda!

He was in love with Mona Lisa but didn't know if she felt the same.

And this expressi�n... this enigma...

he didn't know whether it was tenderness or irony.

That's what he painted. That's what Gioconda's smile is.

The uncertainty! But I won't paint uncertainty.

I'll paint certainty.

I'll paint 'I love you'.

I love you!

I love you, too!

So, Pavlos worked on the portrait struck by inspiration and passi�n.

No other model in the worid could give him

the true expressi�n of the subject he wanted to paint but Aliki.

- Tired, my love? - No, Pavlos.

A bit to the right, please? You lost your posture.

- Is that better? - There!

And, above all, don't lose your expressi�n.

'I love you!'

I love you.

Same thing took place every day and the portrait was held back�

Poor Pavlos was so much in love

and Aliki was so sweet every time she said 'I love you'

that painting stopped and love took over�

Great endless love,

which poets, the silliest of people,

believe is fed only on kisses and vows

and it is located in the heart�

A human body also has a stomach,

unfortunately an organ with urgent needs,

even for lovers...

Grocers, butchers, greengrocers

are not necessarily of poetic nature.

They refused any more credit when they found out

poor painter's deeply rich father-in-law

couldn't bear the sight of his daughter

since she run away from home without his consent.

The only one poetically inclined was the tavern owner

whose dream was to see his tavern walls

decorated with Plaka alleyways and a huge moon painting�

He particularly insisted on the moon.

It definitely had to be yellow.

Yellow! Yellow like kefalotyri cheese!

But moon isn't yellow, old Yannis. The moon is rather silver!

No, it's yellow, my dear.

- Do you know why? - Why?

From too many nightouts!

Whatever our old Yannis wishes! Yellow it is!

And I'll stick to our agreement.

You'll have free lunch and dinner for a month.

Cheers!

So, old Yannis' yellow moon became the young lovers' honeymoon...

A long month of immense hardship

referred to as 'bohemian life' in romantic novels�

'Bohemian life...'

The rich girl that followed the poor artist to the penthouse�

lived this bohemian life with the purest romantic will

looking through the prism of love�

I love you!

A genuine 'I love you'

without any lies...

without any inhibitions...

without any doubts...

but also without any new shoes, to replace her sole pair.

A thing Aliki didn't consider at the night of kidnapping,

leaving behind 32 pairs of shoes in the closet of her room.

That's more shoes than the shop window exhibited.

I love you.

'I love you!' without a marble bathtub with running hot water�

but with a tin can of water half-boiled on a shabby primus stove

shivering in freezing winter�

I love you!

'I love you!' with piles of debts

and unpaid bills likewise.

Then, one day the unfeeling companies cut off water supply...

Besides water, they cut off the gas...

and, as if that wasn't bad enough, they cut off the power in the end...

For the first time Aliki seriously thought about that 'I love you,'

that 'I love you!' that started flickering like a candle flame�

that 'I love you' that started freezing little by little

every time she had to pose for the portrait.

I love you!

No, Aliki. This isn't the expressi�n. You spoiled it.

You must hold the same expressi�n and the same posture!

I love you...

No, darling, for God's sake. That's not it.

How can I work without your assistance?

Come on darling, try once more. Try find the right expressi�n.

'I love you!'

'I love you!'

Aliki!

What's wrong, darling?

- Have I made you so unhappy? - No, Pavlos...

It's nothing. I'll be all right.

I don't know...

why tears come to my eyes.

But I do know why.

Our life is not easy at all.

Come, come!

I love you, Pavlos! I love you, please believe me!

I love you, too, that's why I can't stand seeing you suffer.

Come on, that's enough. Come!

Let's go out and have fun. Wait and see where I'll take you to!

Time to smash you, my pretty pot!

No Pavlos, no!

Is it because we swore never to spend the sovereign?

This is nonsense!

- When my wife is starving... - It's no use, Pavlos.

Soon your wife will be starving again and you will, too.

What are you trying to say?

I mean...

that instead of painting me

why not finish old Yannis' tavern?

Making these silly yellow moons on all the walls?

He likes them and he is paying for them.

Of course he is!

Even more if I brush the doors and windows with leftover paint.

I'm no house painter, Aliki. I'm an artist!

So, don't paint doors and windows, Pavlos.

Plenty of other jobs can earn you money.

You said about that ad sketch of this pot, didn't you?

I don't feel like drawing any pots or moons.

I'm no tradesman, I'm an artist!

But that's no reason for starving to death.

I don't care about myself, Pavlos.

I care about you, you've grown so much thinner lately.

What will become of you?

What the use of fame if you get sick and I lose you?

I don't work for fame, Aliki.

I do paintings because I just feel the need to.

Perhaps, I shouldn't have dragged you into this.

An artist should never get married.

You don't love me, Pavlos!

No, Aliki. Of course I do.

- Where are you going? - I wish I knew where...

Well done!

I'm finished, old Yiannis. Everything painted.

Tables, windows, all done.

- Anything else? - All's well. Paying time!

Come on, hurry up!

Let's see... 1, 2, 3...

...4, 5 - Thank you very much.

- Goodbye! - Hey, come back!

Don't forget your cloths.

- Cheerio! - Take care!

Aliki!

Aliki!

Aliki!

Aliki!

Aliki!...

I'm going back to father.

I don't want to be in your way.

An artist should never get married.

Forgive me for leaving 'I love you' unfinished.

Leaving 'I love you' unfinished�

I love you!

I love you, too.

Aliki returned to her father's,

giving no explanation for her break up with Pavlos.

This was a page finished,

a strictly private affair.

Her father opened his arms and never asked about anything too

and the divorce proceedings was simply a lawyers' thing

finished within a few months time.

In the summer, Aliki joined her father in their mansi�n

and found the pace of her old life again...

Her marble bathtub...

her trusted nanny...

her lush wardrobe and all this great luxury

she missed for this short period time

while in the artist's shabby penthouse...

What she didn't recover though...

was her smile...

Has father come back from the factory?

Yes, half an hour ago.

He's in the garden with Mr Dimitris.

That's why all that fuss about wearing my white dress?

I brought you up from the age of 5, Aliki,

since your mother passed away�

so I consider you as my own child.

You can't spend your whole life like this!

It's time you answered Mr Dimitris' proposal.

He's a good and earnest young man

that will help you forget soon. - I have nothing to forget!

Please, Mrs Katerina, drop this conversation.

All right, my baby. I'll drop it.

The Bank will give you credit. You can be sure of that.

The manager himself told me.

They all hold you in great esteem.

If I manage to import the new machines,

I won't need anyone's help.

I'll push production on three shifts

and flood the market with merchandise.

- When are you leaving? - I'm ready to go.

- Where to? - Paris, London, Rome...

A month trip at the most.

Ah! There comes Aliki!

- Hello, Aliki. - How are you, Dimitris?

- You're wanted on the phone, sir. - Coming.

Excuse me. You can go on with your chat.

I have some more calls to make before lunch.

Your poor father does his best to leave us two alone.

Shouldn't we make him happy, Aliki?

We could make him so happy, living with him in this house.

- Why insist Dimitris? - Because I love you, Aliki.

I've always loved you, ever since you were a little girl.

And because I always believed the day of marrying you would arrive.

I love you, too, Dimitris.

But as an old childhood friend.

Shall I prove it? There...

You see? I can even kiss you.

Like kissing an older brother, if I had one.

An older brother or a childhood friend

who solved your math problems when you were at school.

Remember?

I'm not a schoolgirl anymore, Dimitris!

Still you have a major problem to solve.

I could help you with it even right now.

No problem is troubling me.

No, Aliki, it's obvious in your face.

In this melancholy cute face I've been studying for three months now

no matter how hard you try not to reveal your secret.

- You're still in love with the artist. - No more of that talk, Dimitris!

Let me finish...

You still love him.

You're worried that you lack the strength

not to run back to him.

That's why you have to make a bold step,

to react and secure yourself.

Marry me, Aliki.

So there are men who can settle for a thing like that?

It's the worst kind of love. The desperate kind, Aliki.

I could accept anything so as to have you.

After that, you'll be my wife.

I know my wife will be honest in her decisi�n for a new life.

A whole new life, ahead of us.

Let me think about it, Dimitris.

On one condition, though.

We'll never talk about the part of my life I spent with someone else.

This is something not belonging to you.

Aliki and Dimitris got married

and the newlyweds left immediately for their honeymoon

the schedule of which was combined with Dimitris' business transactions.

For ten days in Paris, Aliki bought dresses

hats and loads of other pretty things.

For ten days in London, she picked up some gorgeous furs.

And the last ten days in Rome, Dimitris, after finishing business,

bought her a most elegant and most expensive bracelet.

So honeymoon came to an end, and Aliki returned to Athens

sadder than she was before leaving.

She inadvertently

remembered another happier honeymoon she spent with Pavlos

in a humble neighbourhood tavern.

Where would you like to go tonight, my love?

- Do you know what I feel nostalgic for? - What?

Something nowhere to be found around Europe.

A small Athenian tavern.

Shall we dine at a Plaka tavern tonight?

That's a splendid idea, Aliki!

I'm so glad you show initiative for a change.

To Plaka, Yannis!

What's more, I know a very nice, detached little tavern

I'm sure you'll enjoy.

- Welcome! Any preference? - This table...

It's a nice little tavern! You were right, Aliki.

- What will you serve us? - Old Yiannis will take your order.

I hope the cuisine is good, too.

- Oh, Dimitris! - What is it, dear?

My bracelet! I must have dropped it in the car.

Your bracelet?

- Will you, please, have a look? - Right away.

- Good evening, dear Aliki! - How are you, old Yannis?

Thank God, I'm all right. You?

So am I.

How's Pavlos?

A good question! He's been very sad

ever since your breakup.

At first he used to come here every night

and sit alone and miserable at this very table.

Every night! Getting drunk...

Don't you see him anymore?

- What's his life like nowadays? - He lives in poverty.

I pleaded he painted more moons on my walls to no avail...

Let it go!

He has this fixation with painting in the penthouse.

- Day and night! - So, he works?

Yes but what's the point? Who buys paintings these days?

- Perhaps someone now at the exhibition. - What exhibition?

He is exhibiting his work at a gallery for a week now.

It's in the papers, didn't you know?

No, I didn't.

I'll go buy a framed picture for the tavern

to aid the poor guy,

cause... he's in dire straits!

I can tell you that he's starving.

No other way of helping him,

proud as he is, you know him, Aliki.

Yes, I know.

I looked thoroughly, Aliki. No bracelet.

I'm sorry.

Now I remember I wasn't wearing it tonight.

- What will you have? - Two glasses of wine to start with.

Yes, sir.

- A cigarette please, Dimitris? - With pleasure.

What's bothering you, Aliki?

Nothing, nothing...

We had an agreement before our marriage, Aliki.

I was never to talk to you about something not belonging to me.

- Tonight we'll make an exception. - What do you mean, Dimitris?

Looks like the painter is having considerable success...

There's a rave review in the paper

about his first exhibition, going on for a week now.

Yes, I know...

Yes, I read it myself accidentally

I can't see the connection with our agreement.

Besides the review, the paper has a photo of a portrait

titled 'I love you.'

A portrait with your face in it.

I'm not sure if the artist has the right of exposing you.

- Jealous, as always, Dimitris. - Terribly.

And I think as a husband I am entitled

to demand that he withdraws the portrait from the exhibition.

That would be thoughtless.

If it bothers you so much, you can withdraw it by other means.

Buy it!

You're right. Simpler that way.

We'll go to the exhibition tomorrow.

Together!

I'd look totally ridiculous alone.

As you wish.

There it is.

Not as good as the model, for sure.

You're much more beautiful, Aliki.

No 27.

'I love you!'

That's strange. It's the only one without a price.

There must be someone here to ask about the price.

It's not for sale, sir!

Perhaps the model was sold once, but this one, no.

This is absolutely mine.

- So, that was the painter? - Yes, that was him.

Let's go, Dimitris!

Now, you shouldn't imagine that after this incident

any novel-like tragic incident occurred.

Life has even more tragic finales.

Time crushes everything.

The years went by fast. It is, alas, inevitable.

Aliki submitted to the conventional life

most rich married couples share.

where wealth is gradually taken for granted

finally becoming an indifferent thing.

She also became a good mother

giving birth to a son looking exactly like his father.

So people considered her marriage as happy

like with all logical marriages not based on passionate love.

Passionate love remained in her heart�

No calendar ever managed to erase it.

She never again met Pavlos

who developed into an acclaimed and famous artist�

Pavlos became what he always wanted to be.

A true artist, a 'bohemian.'

Free from any engagement that would force him

to make compromises in his life and art.

Aliki always followed his steps from afar

reading with pride and secret joy about him

in the papers which mentioned his name again and again.

Would Pavlos have remained a true artist

had he taken over a family burden on his shoulders?

Or would his talent have been buried

in some graphic design studio sketching commercial ads?

Pavlos remained a true artist,

a bohemian, who never cared about being broke,

and being broke was his permanent condition.

since great artists' works become priceless

usually only after their death�

Such was the case when he remembered

his forgotten gold sovereign in the pot,

the sovereign that had united him and Aliki

once upon a New Year's Day...

How many memories it brought back!

And the sovereign?

The sovereign was still there.

No use keeping it any more, though.

Hello!

Can you please change this sovereign for me?

- It's counterfeit, unfortunately. - Counterfeit?

All right then�

Counterfeit? He couldn't help it.

He would be just penniless for yet another day�

He couldn't care less as long as he could enjoy the autumn sunshine�

and head to Zappeion Park to browse around a new painting exhibition�

Pavlos!

Aliki!

How are you, Pavlos?

Long time, no see.

Yes, it's been too long.

We never happened to meet.

Is it too late for me now, 7 years later,

to apologize for what I said to you in that gallery?

Your first exhibition.

I feel terribly guilty for the things I said.

Well... when I saw you with�.

He was my husband.

Yes, I know.

You must have hated me that day.

I didn't hate you, Pavlos. How could I?

I didn't hold a grudge against you either.

I could never hold a grudge against you.

- How's life? Are you happy? - I am.

Happy that you became a famous artist.

What you always wanted...

and what you truly deserved to be.

Yet, I often wondered

if this is worth of being alone in life.

'Artists should never get married,' eh?

Remember?

I always do.

Everything was so beautiful then,

the penthouse... the hole in the blanket!

The pot with our one and only sovereign!

I broke the pot and the sovereign was counterfeit.

Counterfeit?

The sovereign we swore on our love never to spend was�

counterfeit!

But our love was real, Pavlos.

And my portrait? what became of my portrait?

It's the only thing I have from you, Aliki.

I never sold this portrait.

It's always been in the penthouse, over my bed.

When I feel lonely... disheartened...

I talk to that portrait as if it was alive and listening.

I tell her... my dreams,

my worries, my bitter sorrows...

Whatever I say...

she'll always answer�

I love you!

I love you, too!

We lost track of time, Pavlos. I'm late.

My husband and child are expecting me.

I'm sorry. Nobody is expecting me.

- Goodbye, Pavlos. - Goodbye, Aliki.

That was 'I love you!' all about. It didn't end and it never will�

A great love

starting with a counterfeit sovereign

useless any more�

False, however, is not only the counterfeit sovereign in the story.

False as a whole is money.