David Golder Page #3

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from Paris?

Here.

That's all?

Isn't that enough?

- No, I want a new car.

- And the one you have?

It's too small.

I'm bored with it.

I want a Bugatti!

It does 95 mph!

Can you imagine?

Well, you'll just have

to do without it.

Daddy, buy me one.

I'll be good.

I can't. Business is bad.

Next year.

You always say that.

Just find the money!

Enough! Go on now.

Allow me.

If you had the money...

would you buy me one?

- What?

- The car!

Of course.

But I don't have a cent!

- I'll help you make money.

- What?

- Come play baccarat.

- I'm exhausted.

You'll see.

Everyone says I'm good luck.

I'll stay by your side.

You're going to win.

I can just feel it!

Fishl told me a bit about it.

Your husband's business

is doing badly right now.

Really? Is that

what people are saying?

Seems he's counting

on a deal with the Soviets

to get back on his feet.

I don't know.

Something to do with oil.

But you know me.

I know nothing

about business.

Banker bets 50,000.

No one calls "banco"?

Place your bets.

No more bets.

Open bank.

We have an open bank.

Place your bets.

No limit on bets.

Daddy...

I'm right over here.

Don't bother me now!

- I'm not thinking of myself...

- Right! You scoundrel!

...but the day he dies

- David? He's solid as a rock.

He'll bury us all.

More surprising things

have happened.

Tell me:

If he were to die...

have you given

any thought to your situation?

Nine.

Eight.

- Six.

- Winnings are split.

Place your bets.

Place your bets.

No more bets.

Place your bets.

50,000 first table.

100,000 second table.

Bank has eight.

Place your bets.

75,000 second table.

200,000 cheval.

Bank has nine.

I'll keep going.

Any takers?

1,300,000 francs.

No takers?

The game is over.

Old Golder wins a million!

You won!

I lost a million.

Then I won it back

with 100,000.

Oh Daddy!

My Bugatti!

Oh, I love you!

Well? Is he going to die?

Not immediately, dear lady.

What's wrong with him?

Angina.

Severe chest pains.

The window.

Why all the bells?

Who died?

Nobody, sir.

It's Sunday.

He could live

for a long time.

Five or ten years

with a careful diet

and plenty of medical care.

He'll have to stop working,

of course.

No excitement.

Complete rest.

Stop working?

He could never do that.

Yes, he can.

But...

what will we live on?

Of course, you mustn't

tell him anything now.

Wait until his chest pain

has subsided.

I'll be back to check on him.

It's serious, isn't it?

It's my heart.

Of course not.

I don't want to die.

You're not going to die.

When can I get up?

Not right away.

You need rest.

Tbingen's expecting me

in Berlin.

Daddy,

aren't you're feeling well?

Don't worry.

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