Original subtitles

'Make your bets.'

'That's all, no more bets.'

Number 30.

Number three repeats.

Armalia, your luck improves with every glass of champagne.

And, Rudi the champagne improves with every roll of the wheel.

Cash those for me.

Place your bets.

- Very superior, waiter. - Thank you, sir.

Probably, very superior man.

Pity, no one let them know.

Please don't stop playing for my sake.

As a matter of fact I happen to be up and gone.

I do nothing for anyone else's sake.

The last time I did, I got married.

I mean I could take a taxi home.

No, Rudi, these are not hours to be wasted in playing.

Into each life, there come a few nights, such as this night

in which everything you touch is gold.

Everything you do is right.

Invariably followed the next morning by a severe headache.

What do I do with my power?

What do I do with my omnipotence?

Dine anddebate with a love-sick young aristocrat

whose only thought is of the model and the Tyrol

and his lovely Maddalena.

You'll admit, with all that to think of

I've listened very attentively

to your naive champagne philosophy.

Naive? What's so naive about it?

You promised we wouldn't go into it again.

I insist on knowing.

- Sir? - Well, oh!

- You save money, young man? - No, sir.

- Support a sick mother? - No, sir, no one.

Perhaps you're working your way through school?

- No, sir. - No ambition of any kind?

- No, sir. - Good.

Here's a enormous tip for you, squander it.

- Yes, sir. - What do you mean, naive?

Well, after all, all that about life, the great roulette wheel.

Life is a great roulette wheel.

And the human is a little ball, worthless in himself

bouncing helplessly from slot to slot.

Where will he aim? In wealth or poverty.

Is Rudi Pal the desirable young aristocrat

or...is our friend the waiter?

Your number, my friend didn't turn up, more champagne.

- And the check. - Yes, sir.

Now, Rudi Pal and the waiter.

Alike at the start and now so different.

You'll go on from there about the one

where all men are created equal.

- Which they are. - Which they are not.

Do you suppose there's anything to distinguish you

from that waiter?

Except your clothes and the fact that you sit while he stands?

There's everything, the breeding.

Waiters are notoriously better mannered than those they serve.

Breeding means more than manners.

Nonsense. Rudi, as a favor to me, stand up.

Sit down, my friend, sit down.

You're a gentleman for the time being.

Waiter, pour the gentleman a drink.

This is not particularly embarrassing to me.

Think you're being deliberately cruel to the waiter.

'For the moment he is no waiter, he's much at home as you or I.'

Oh, no, my friend, you can do everything but drink.

That would be cruel. Let's get out of here.

- Rudi, I have an idea. - No more please.

I'm going home like a good little roulette ball.

The train for Turin leaves so early in the morning.

By that time I shall change a dozen lives.

Lead me till the destitute.

The destitute sleep after midnight.

Some other time, old man.

Now this very instant take me to the lowest dive in all Trieste.

The very lowest, the lowest of the low.

This is a great honor, Your Excellency.

I hope you will like my little place.

Everything refined and tasteful.

Is this the lowest, the most decrepit dump in Trieste?

This is, Your Excellency.

You won't find a more decrepit bar in the..

- Nothing is decent here. - Including the champagne.

It's all the matter of luck, Armalia.

If that champagne had only bounced into the lucky slot.

Oh, we have the most beautiful girls.

That is the lowest, most decrepit creatures in Trieste.

- Perhaps you would enjoy. - No, thank you.

Why not? Not a ladylike enough, perhaps.

If I were to take one of those poor things

have her properly washed, dressed and coiffured

you couldn't tell her from your own fiancee.

Fiancee reminds me, I've really got to go.

Goodbye, Armalia.

Come up to Turin if you don't think

Maddelena and I are too smug.

And don't get too dizzy on that great big wheel of life.

Get out of here.

* Let's always sing the praise *

Waiter.

Yes, Your Excellency.

Bring a girl to my table. Washed if possible.

- Perhaps, you would-- - Surprise me.

Anyone will do, anyone, the one that's singing.

The one that's singing?

* Who wants love *

* Love is a joy we borrow *

* Pay back in tears tomorrow *

* So who wants love *

* Who wants love *

* Something to fill your heat with *

* So very soon to part with *

* So who wants love *

* Love is a dream I'm weaving *

* Moonbeams and patterns rare *

* Love is a child believing *

* Stories of castle in the air *

* So who wants love *

* I'll go my way without it *

* I know too much about it *

* Who wants love **

Still good for me, ain't, duchess?

Much too good.

Well, count is he?

Come to stare at the animals in the zoo?

Good evening, sir, would you care to dance

or shall I sing another song, perhaps an old--

No thank you, let us just be two human souls in commune.

- Now let's just talk. - Talk?

Yes. Will you tell me all about yourself?

Where you were born, all that sort.

Thank you, I will sit down since you insist.

My name is Anni Pavlovitch.

Born in Poland, age 25, mother, Austrian.

And I'm not going to tell you my father was an aristocrat.

- Didn't surprised me. - Didn't surprised me either.

- You talk well. - Oh, yes.

Guess, we breathe and sleep and are hungry too.

- Very much like human beings. - Naturally, senora.

Who was you mother, who was your father?

How did you happen to become a count?

Proud of you to come here, and stay and ask me questions.

I know, I'd been told it's all the matter of luck.

I had the good luck to be born rich, while you--

I had the bad luck to be born.

You're absolutely right, it's most unjust.

One is powerless to protest one's fate.

- Powerless to stop-- - I'm hungry.

I'm sorry. Waiter!

Waiter, bring some hors d'oeuvre for the lady

best you've got, caviar.

Caviar for the count.

Bring me a dish of stew, with meat in it.

And remember put plenty of meat in it.

Are you gonna drink some beer?

Champagne's good enough for me.

Ah, you didn't crook your little finger, thank you for that.

Where did you learn such charming manners?

I go to the movies, I watch the ladies of your world.

Lots of simple and stupid and artificial.

My world's bad luck that you weren't born in it.

- Madam? - Yes, it it.

How would you like a little holiday, Signorina Anni?

Some of the fine hotels, say, have servants wait on you?

Plenty of food, sunshine, beautiful clothes.

I'm not going there so I can have a red evening dress.

'Yeah, of course, anything you want.'

I think I'll send you to Turin.

- What's that? A sanatorium?

No, it is a fashionable hotel in the Tyrol

filled with the ladies and gentlemen of breeding.

Give me two weeks, of it, two weeks exactly.

Waiter, give me a pencil.

I'll wire the hotel, the best room for my little friend.

And Galli, I'm gonna get Galli for your dresses.

I'd give you the money now

rather than you make off with it.

How soon can you go?

Take me a week to close my town house, dismiss the servants.

And change your name to Anne-Anne, Anne Vivaldi.

The daughter of my very good friend, Lieutenant Vivaldi.

Uh, naval officer, your mother lives in genteel poverty

'and you were brought up--'

- In a convent. - Well.

- In a convent. - Alright, in a convent.

I'll wire the hotel myself, and here's a list of shops

and I'll notify them to take care of you.

And here's a little money for some tips.

You're-you're sure you're not joking?

I'm cheating, Anni. I'm fixing the great wheel.

Fixing it, so that you can win for a while.

Perhaps Rudi would say, I'm being miserably cruel.

But I want to know, I want to know

what makes a waiter, a waiter and Rudi, Rudi and a you, you.

Or whether you could be a lady.

And remember, if it turns out badly

don't come and complain to me, in fact don't come to me at all.

After all, by tomorrow, the next day

I'll probably be sober again.

Goodbye, Anni and good luck.

Dolores, Consuelo, Felicia.

Bring the articles I've selected for the Count Armaila's..

Yes, daughter of Count Armalia's very good friend

Lieutenant Vivaldi.

Of course, is there anything in particular

the signorina would like?

I should like..

Could I have the blue coat on the window?

Anything the signorina wishes.

And I shall want a red evening dress with beads.

Signorina, may I help you?

Yes.

Say, are you the driver from the hotel?

No, signorina, but my cousin is.

Doesn't the hotel meet it's guests at the station?

- Usually, yes. - Oh.

When's the next train back to Trieste?

The next train for Trieste?

Why Signorina Vivaldi, you've only just arrived.

How do you know my name?

I read your telegram for the train.

I read all the telegrams, going and coming.

You see, I'm telegraph operator here.

Did you deliver my telegram?

Over two hours ago. I sent it with my cousin.

Well, the driver from the hotel.

No, another cousin, Pietro, he's my assistant.

He's very fond of blackberries. They are in season now.

- How far is the hotel? - Four kilometers.

You should see the blackberry fields, signorina.

Like black clouds.

Am I expected to walk four kilometers?

You may ride to the hotel with mail and me if you wish.

Do you think I'll ride in that?

Well, I do.

There's a great difference between us.

- Of course. - And..

Ladies don't ride in donkey carts.

It would be unusual, but then

great ladies can do unusual things.

I'll get your luggage.

Is he dangerous?

Not from that end.

Another one of your cousins I suppose.

Takes him a minute to make up his mind.

He's alright after he gets started.

Where are you going? Who's gonna drive the donkey?

He knows the road. I have to sort the mail.

Suppose he runs away.

We'll walk very fast, catch him.

The Archduke of Austria once rode in this donkey cart.

My father was postmaster then. I got the position when he died.

My grandfather was postmaster too.

No wonder the donkey is tired.

It's an important position, you know?

Sometimes as many as 200 letters come through here in one day.

Don't you ever think of getting away from here

to someplace where you can amount to something?

Well, I do amount to something, haven't I just told you?

No, I mean, to become rich, important, respected.

You mean ambitious.

I used to think it would be wonderful to go to Vienna

Paris, Rome.

'I got older.'

'I see so many people at the hotel'

'that come form those cities.'

They are so rich and they are important.

To be happy, you must be contended.

To be contended, you must find you place in the world

and stay there.

Suppose you don't like your place, then what?

Find a place the fits you. There's one for everybody.

- What was that? - Car from the hotel.

My cousin, Pietro must have delivered your telegram.

- Why didn't you stop it? - How?

Tell me, are these trees always this beautiful?

No, signorina, yesterday they were less beautiful

tomorrow they'll be more.

You really believe that? You've lived here all your life.

Well, when I was very young, I saw the pine trees in snow.

I wanted to grow like that, tall and straight, and strong.

And when I was older, I saw poplar

and the sun, and the laugh.

I wanted to learn to laugh like that.

Do they never cry, these trees of yours?

When it rains, they cry into the mountain streams.

When it stops and the raindrops shine on the leaves in the sun

that's when they are most beautiful.

Like a lady's eyes, when they laugh and cry at the same time.

You are the strangest postman I've ever met.

Has the signorina met many postmen?

- Of course not. - Doesn't matter.

I'd still be the strangest.

- But you think they'd stop? - We are very near.

You'll see the hotel any minute now.

You did not meet her at the station?

Well, I have just returned from the station

she's not there.

What would happen to my hotel if I picked up berries, huh?

I have instructions from Count Armalia to expect her.

I have the telegram from signorina herself

sent from the train.

I have everything but the signorina.

- Now she must be somewhere. - Here she is.

Signorina, a mistake, a thousand pardons.

I'm surrounded by idiots, so terrible this should happen.

- That's quite alright. - You're not angry?

You will forgive me?

I don't wish to discuss it any further.

Listen to me, Cousin Pietro and look at me.

Telegrams must be delivered.

But the blackberries, Cousin Giulio, they are ripe.

I know, cousin, but you should have picked 'em on the way back.

He'll never do it again. Thank you very much.

Well, I have my salary from the government.

Thank you, signorina.

- Good afternoon, Signor Pal. - Good afternoon, Nobili.

Lovely day, isn't it?

In the north wing, I have a larger suite.

- No, this will do. - Oh, thank you, signorina.

Thank you, thank you.

Oh.

Who is it?

Maid, signorina. May I unpack for you?

Yes, please, come in.

Which dress will the signorina wear to dinner?

I think I shall wear..

- 'Anni.' - Maria.

Of all people to run into, it's you.

What are you doing here?

Anni, it's good to see you again.

But they told me your name was Vivaldi.

- Signorina and Vivaldi. - That's me.

But how?

Anni, you are not in trouble with the police?

You're not hiding?

Maria, you wouldn't believe what happened, it's..

It's like those stupid wishes we used to make

when we had too much beer, remember?

You used to wish you could find a purse with 10,000 lira in it.

And I used to wish I could find a box with a red evening dress

that's just my size and ready to wear.

It's in there. Very red and with beads.

But you haven't told me who and how.

You're talking in riddles.

I'm living in riddles, I don't know the answer.

But who cares?

For two weeks, I'm on top of the world.

- For two weeks, I'm a lady. - And then?

And then, I..

Well, I'll think about it then.

Oh, Maria, tell me.

What brought you from Cordillera bar to Turin?

I'm happy here, Anni.

I sweep, wash dishes, scrub floors.

Sometimes I help as a personal maid.

I work from morning till night.

And for the first time in my life, I'm truly happy.

- Can you believe that? - No.

One night at the bar, I-I looked into a mirror.

I was frightened at what I saw.

How heavy the rouge had become wrinkles I couldn't hide.

Anni, I saw my finish in that mirror.

I lied to an agency, I forged references.

Here I am.

I love it here.

If I had to leave, I think I'd die.

I know, you want to grow strong with the poplars

and laugh with the pines, or is it the way around?

Oh, Maria, it's so good to have you here.

I've had to be so careful, so correct.

I feel like a fat woman, with her corsets off.

Keep on being careful and correct.

You'll have to watch out.

'The very finest people stay here.'

They don't come too finer, too elegant

for Signorina Ann Vivaldi.

I can't help it, I don't like it, Anni.

I have a feeling someone's playing a dirty trick on you.

Not on me. On themselves, maybe.

Lay out my red dress with beads, I'll wear it to dinner tonight.

Not this red dress. Not here.

'You might as well wear a sign.'

But when will I wear it?

Perhaps, two weeks from now.

- Signorina Vivaldi? - Yes.

You've never seen Armalia like that.

He's going to turn the whole world upside down.

We were all little roulette ball

and waiters would become gentlemen

and cabaret girls countesses and..

And..

I had a night like that once.

I took the pants off of half the policeman in Trieste.

It seemed to me that, uh..

That, uh..

Upto a moment ago

we were dining with retired admiral, your father.

And a not completely retired bachelor, your fiancee.

We are now quite alone.

- Rudi, darling, remember me? - Oh.

The girl you're engaged to, Maddelena.

Was here just a moment ago. Think hard.

Where was I when I was so rudely interrupted?

What would the signorina wish?

Oh, uh, something very light, I think.

Brodo caldo, perhaps.

'And then, uh, perhaps, frittata ponerte.'

I'd like that, yes.

'And then, a salad.'

Yes, a salad.

Thank you, signorina.

Rudi, while we're here, let's climb to the pines

once in the early morning.

They're supposed to be at their very best as the sun comes up.

You know, it's a very funny thing.

And if the sun comes up, I'm at my very worst.

Darling, in all the years we've been coming here

and all the time we've been in love

you've never asked Rudi to get up at dawn

to see a pine tree.

Please don't start now.

Yes, sir, it's a very funny thing.

You just said that, admiral.

We're ready for the next sentence.

I know that, young lady. I know well.

Then by all means, father, ask her to coffee with us.

- I'm sure she's very nice. - Well, of course.

It's a very long time since we met.

It must be years and years.

She's 21 if she's a day.

Do you doubt my word, young lady?

Waiter.

Something on which to write.

You see that lady at the table alone?

By the window.

Signorina Vivaldi?

Of course. Vivaldi.

That was her name. Vivaldi.

Give her this.

The flag goes up.

Uh, pardon, signorina. I was to give you this.

The flag comes down.

Would the signorina care for some hearts of artichokes?

Stuffed egg?

Yes, please.

Some celery?

Work from the outside in, signorina.

I'm sure the signorina will enjoy her coffee here.

Is there anything else I can do for the signorina?

No, thank you. And thanks for everything.

Good evening, signorina.

Good evening, postman.

Or are you the official village flute player at night?

No, signorina.

But that is your grandfather's flute, isn't it?

And his father's before him.

Have you any reason for making fun of me?

I'm not making fun of you.

Tell me why did the music go away? I liked it.

The dancing will start soon in the hotel.

And besides, they preferred to go away.

Tonight there's stars and a moon.

And a picnic.

What do you do on a picnic?

The signorina never been to one?

Unh-unh.

We walk in the night air.

In the summer, we swim, in the winter, we ride in sleighs.

We have a basket of food to eat when we grow hungry.

Sausage, beer and cheese on wet grass.

Oh, I shouldn't like that.

Cold chicken and wine.

And when the grass is wet

it smells of the earth, and the rain.

And you sing and play and..

...make love to your girl?

Are you in love, postman?

'No.'

I'm surprised. Why not?

- 'Too busy perhaps?' - Is the signorina in love?

That's none of you business.

Exactly, signorina.

It's none of my business.

And why is it that you feel privileged

to question and examine me as if I were a three legged cow?

Pardon me if I have offended you.

No, postman!

'Pardon me, I..'

I-I should have known better.

'Please, signorina.'

You may ask me a question if you like.

Is the signorina in love?

No. No, I'm not.

As long as I can remember there's been a balustrade

between a terrace and a lawn.

I've always imagined it was to keep those

on the terrace from falling to the lawn.

Now I realized it also keeps those

in the lawn from rising to the terrace.

'Good evening, Giulio.'

Good evening, Signor Pal.

Goodnight, signorina.

Goodnight, postman.

Signorina Vivaldi.

You are the Signorina Vivaldi, are you not?

Yes?

I've come to apologize to you.

To me? Why?

- The note. - Oh.

Well, that.

- You shouldn't have done that. - I didn't.

It was my very good friend, the retired Admiral Monti.

He imagined he knew you from somewhere.

From where?

'Oh, please don't give it a thought.'

The admiral has all the impetuousness

of a middle age man with nothing to lose.

Tell him I accept his apology, and thank you for bringing it.

Permit me.

Oh, I.. Again I apologize.

- I make a very poor waiter. - Thank you.

I, uh, was also to ask you to join us to have liqueur.

Thank you, no.

Please don't be angry.

We're really very pleasant people.

But I don't know you.

I'm not accustomed to sitting at strange tables on command.

My name is Rudolph Pal.

Counting this, I've apologized to you three times.

Therefore, I must have insulted you three times.

We must be very old friends by now.

Well, at least we know each other's names.

The peasant music again.

Oh, you'll get used to it.

Like the bullfrogs in the pond

in the back of the hotel.

After a while, you don't even notice it.

But I want to notice it. I like their music.

You'll like it at first.

They're, uh, having a picnic tonight.

Soggy black bread and wet grass.

It smells of rain, and of earth.

It's still wet.

Well, it's fashionable, I know, to think that

the simple and humble things in life are best.

They're nothing of the kind.

In my opinion, most people prefer sardines to caviar

simply because most people have never tasted caviar.

I think you're right, Signor Pal.

Everyone calls me Rudi.

The music has started for dancing.

Please.

The infantry has succeeded where the navy failed.

She is ours.

May I present Signorina Vivaldi?

'Contessa Di Meina, Signorina Monti.'

- 'How do you do?' - How do you do?

How do you do?

The, um, admiral, of course, you know intimately.

My memory's terribly poor. Forgive me, admiral.

Why should you remember an old duffer like me?

And how wonderfully well you're looking.

I'm feeling much better, thank you.

I'm completely cured.

Completely cured?

Good. Excellent.

'Won't you sit down, signorina?'

Thank you.

Is this your first visit to Turin?

Yes, my first in many years.

When I was a little girl, I came here with my father

and Count Armalia.

Armalia?

Yes, he was my father's closest friend.

I knew I remembered you.

Why, I used to dandle you on my knee.

You were little, uh..

Little, uh..

Anne.

Anne! Of course.

Anne Vivaldi, that's your name!

Anne Vivaldi, been on the tip of my tongue all night.

How cozy.

Tell me, have you seen Armalia lately?

Yes. I saw him about a week ago in Trieste.

He recommended Ter.

I was badly in need of a rest.

You said Trieste. Perhaps we have mutual friends.

Do you know the Reinhardt's?

The Calman's?

No. I'm sorry.

With or without Armalia, it seems

incredible that we've never met.

Well, there are so many people in Trieste.

But so few ladies as lovely as you.

It's good for your conceit, darling.

- Don't mind him, signorina. - I don't.

I like him.

Will you dance, Maddelena?

No, thank you.

I'm a little tired tonight.

And you, signorina?

Yes, thank you.

Watch out, Maddelena.

You don't dance like a debutante.

Really? And how does a debutante dance?

With stiff knees.

You dance beautifully.

Almost like a professional.

There.

You see, your praise went to my

feet, Signor Pal.

You know, it's going to sound silly

your calling me Signor Pal..

...while I call you Ann.

I didn't know you were going to.

I forgot to tell you.

Any particular reason why you're alone?

I want to be.

Well, that's too bad.

What is?

You're not going to have what you want from now on.

You're not going to be alone much from now on.

- Maria. - Huh?

What's a debutante?

- A what? - A debutante.

They've got stiff knees.

I don't know.

Something to do with society, I guess.

That's what I thought.

People nodded to me and said

"Good evening, signorina."

all over the place

People I've never seen before in my life.

'What?'

Nothing.

I'm so tired, I could die.

But it's still better than carrying half the

merchant marine around on your feet all night.

Think of it. The night's just beginning down there.

You think of it.

Tell me, are Sophie and Toni still fighting

over that night watchman?

Sophie married him.

He broke her jaw for a wedding present.

Oh...it's wonderful

to live like this.

Listen to how quiet it is.

It's always quiet.

It's always wonderful.

It'll be terrible when you have to go back.

It would be nice to live like this forever.

The best thing that could happen to you.

Maybe I could get you a job like mine.

Like yours?

You're happy here with your silly trees and mountains

and your stupid nights with stars

and wet grass and sardines.

But that's because you never tasted vintage wine

and danced to a wonderful orchestra

with a handsome gentleman who kissed your hand good night.

Anni, have you gone crazy?

Maria, I'm never going back to the Cordolero bar.

So, that's it. I knew that would come.

Why shouldn't I stay as I am, on top with these clothes

these people, this life?

Am I any different from them?

Do I look, do I act any different?

No, Anni.

But you are.

I'm not, and I'll prove it to you I'm not.

I don't know how or when, but I'll prove it to you.

And I'll prove it to them.

Look.

The whole valley's like a sea of gold.

And there's the lake down there.

It looks like..

...like a little drop of jade.

I had a jade ring once.

- What is it, Anne? - Oh, nothing. Just stupid.

But something must have made you cry.

I just thought of something. That's all.

- Of what? - Nothing.

Of what, Anne?

Well, I just thought that..

...I'll be gone next week.

And I just thought that I'll never see the sun again.

- What nonsense. - Oh!

Please don't look at me, Rudi.

My nose gets so funny when I cry.

Come on, let's wash our faces in the brook.

Such a gloomy face. Have I made you sad, Rudi?

Come, wash your face in the brook.

It's a magic brook, it washes away your sadness

and leaves little drops of happiness all over you.

Some vintage wine perhaps? Hundreds of years old.

Come and sit beside me, Anne.

What's the matter, Rudi?

I don't know.

Perhaps you've been getting up too early in the morning.

I know it hasn't been any fun for you to get up at dawn

to see the sun on the lake, on the poplars

on the fields, just for my sake.

- You know that isn't so. - Well, how do I know?

Because I still haven't seen the lake, or the fields

or the poplars. I haven't seen the sun, Anne.

I've only seen you.

Oh!

I don't know just what to say.

It must be getting late.

I wonder what's keeping Maddelena and her father.

Anne..

...I can't make you out.

At the hotel, at tea, at dinner, or when we dance

you're like everyone else. More beautiful, perhaps.

More poised, more of a lady.

Thank you, Signor Pal.

On mornings like these, you're like..

...an animal suddenly set free.

You try to run in all directions at once.

You're all instinct and emotion.

You cry at a sunrise.

You laugh at some leaves in the wind.

You're in love with something on mornings like these.

At last. I'm a woman of mystery.

You're the most exciting woman I've ever met.

- Please, Rudi. - I don't want you to go, Anne.

I don't wanna be here. I don't wanna be anywhere without you.

You're engaged to be married to Maddelena.

'Yoo-hoo!'

'Rudi! Anne!'

It's your problem, Rudi. You will have to face it.

- Woo-hoo! - Come on down.

I've run ashore here.

I think my anchor is dragging.

Here comes the morning mail.

I never could quite understand

Maddelena's mad passion for the postman.

It's hardly that, darling. I think he's charming.

I think the way he distributes morning mail is delightful.

Quaint to the word, I think it's stupid

and a little impertinent, don't you, Anne?

I don't know. I've never thought about it much.

You see, fortunately, no one knows where I am

so I never get any letters.

You're just jealous, Rudi.

You do think he's attractive, don't you, Anne?

I think I agree with Rudi about his impertinence.

Giulio sometimes forgets he's just a postman.

'Signor Lacroix. One thin one.'

Signorina Vivaldi. A letter for you.

Apparently someone knows where you are.

- I-I can't imagine. - Shall I get it for yo--

No, no, I'll get it. It's much more fun.

Her first letter in ten days.

I'd give my one good eye to know from whom.

Your first letter, signorina. I wondered why there were none.

Surely a man like you must have more important things

to wonder about.

Well, are we ready for breakfast? I'm starved.

But aren't you going to read your letter?

Oh, never on an empty stomach.

- It might be important. - From Armalia?

Oh, it's probably full of gossip.

Please, do read it, Anne. What does he have to say?

- Oh, get it over with. - 'Yes, please do.'

'Anything interesting?'

'Oh, just the usual Armalia gossip.'

As much of it as he thinks I ought to know.

He hopes I'm enjoying Turin and, uh..

Oh, and he wishes to be remembered to all of you.

And here's a special regards to you, Rudi

and to the contessa.

How nice, particularly as I've met Count Armalia exactly twice

and we detest each other with a glowing hatred.

He couldn't possibly.

Not after all the wonderful things

I've written to him about you.

Thank you, my dear.

I, uh, think it's my turn to ask.

- What about breakfast? - Breakfast.

That's the only intelligent remark I've heard today.

Come on.

- Coming, Anne? - In a minute.

Is anything the matter? Can I help?

No, please go along. I'll..

I'll be there in a little while.

Come on, Rudi.

'Signorina.'

I couldn't knock, you see.

What do you want?

- Can I help you? - Help me?

What makes you think I need help?

Your letter made you very unhappy.

You didn't wish to discuss it with your friends

and I thought, perhaps with someone like me..

You see, very often, it helps to talk.

Is it part of your duty to discuss

every letter you deliver?

This has nothing whatever to do

with my duty, signorina.

I have no right even to be here.

'Exactly.'

It was a letter from my very good friend, Count Armalia.

It was a very amusing letter. I've read it over and over.

Ten days ago, when you rode from the station in my donkey cart

you were pleasant and kind.

I thought you were the most gracious lady I'd ever met.

That night, as you sat on the terrace..

...I thought I'd never again see anything so beautiful.

- You're being impertinent. - Please.

I've talked with you since every day

and never once have you been even as pleasant

as the first time.

I seem to...disturb you.

Servants never disturb me.

I'm not a servant, and you don't treat me

as you would a servant. Your attitude is--

I'm not aware of any attitude toward you.

- But I am, signorina-- - Then keep it to yourself.

Take it along to your picnics under the stars. I've got to go.

I don't go to the picnics anymore.

Get out of my way.

Ever since that first night..

...I'm not hungry anymore.

My cousins worry about me.

At night, I stay alone in my house.

My house is small, but it sits high on the hill.

I have everything there I'll ever need.

A cow, a garden, and some chickens.

Even my telegraph station's there.

It's my private world on top of this one we all share.

Can you see the lake in the early morning?

Like a shiny green dress with little sparkles on it.

- And the valley too? - And beyond.

The hills behind it. You'd like my house, signorina.

No. No, postman, I would not like it.

I'm used to so much more.

'Anni? Anni?'

Where are you?

Oh, forgive me, signorina. I, I thought I..

I thought I.. I was looking for Anni, the chambermaid.

- Is she crazy? - She must be.

There's no chambermaid named Anni.

I see.

Thank you for all your information, postman.

Oh, not at all, signorina.

If you'd wanted to, you could have left at any time.

The arbor's open at both ends.

You idiot!

They're waiting breakfast for you.

How did I know I'd find you messing around with the postman?

Oh, you've got such a beautiful, clean mind.

My dearie, I know you must have been

discussing your stamp collection.

After all that wonderful work on Rudi Pal

she takes up with a dolt that rides in a donkey cart.

I haven't taken up with him. He doesn't mean that to me.

Maybe he's teaching you the telegraph code.

And don't you worry about Rudi Pal.

- That's gonna be alright. - It better be soon.

You've got less than a week.

I may need more time. I may stay on a little longer.

'How? You've got no money.'

If I've got to stay, I'll stay somehow.

He's got a beautiful yacht anchored at Trieste, Maria.

You know, I wouldn't mind sailing past the waterfront

on my yacht... on my honeymoon.

- Good morning, Alberto. - Good morning, signorina.

- Feeling better? - Much better, thank you.

- Nothing serious, I hope. - Unfortunately not.

The usual, signorina?

Yes, Alberto. The usual, please.

We were just talking about the festa, Anne.

Maddelena's in an uproar about her costume.

It's a wonderful affair, all the peasants from miles

around will be there, and we dress just like them.

Even father wears his Tyrolean outfit.

I-it's great for my gout.

And everyone drinks too much new wine

and makes too much love to the wrong people.

It's the most romantic night of the year.

What a pity you're leaving just before it.

Anne, darling, you can't miss the festa.

Oh, it does sound like fun

and I've an important engagement in Trieste

but if you'd all like me to stay..

...I think it can be arranged.

Well, it's certainly simple and modest enough.

Maybe a little bit too much so.

That ought to make it more attractive, don't you think?

Oh, no, signorina. That would spoil the dress.

I suppose none of your peasant girls

ever wear their dresses like this.

Oh, some of them do.

Oh!

Well, I want mine that way too.