Kiss and Make-Up Page #4

Well, what do you say

about our proposition?

You can name your

own salary to start

and later work up to

an interest in the business.

I don't want to seem

ungrateful, Maurice,

but I don't think I'd

fit into a place like this.

- Just as you like.

- I'm sorry.

Goodbye, Maurice.

Goodbye, Max.

Oh, Doctor. Madame Caron is

waiting to have the bandages removed.

Madame Caron, waiting?

How long?

Oh, about an hour.

You've kept Madame Caron waiting an hour?

Why didn't you tell me?

You were busy.

Don't tell me there's still

something you don't like?

It suddenly occurred to me

I won't be seeing you anymore.

Why not?

Because my work is done.

You are perfect.

Really?

Well, of course we ought to

have a complete check-up.

Vilma, get ready

for a check-up.

No. I'll check Madame Caron.

The weight first.

Your husband was

here this morning.

Oh, can't we talk about

something pleasant?

You know, we won't get

the proper result if you do that.

How do you know we won't?

It disturbs the balance.

Whose?

- The scale's.

- Oh.

Perfect! I couldn't

ask for more.

No, I suppose not.

Now over here, please.

Are you so strictly professional

with all your patients?

No.

Well, then why

am I so honored?

Because I'm afraid.

Of me?

No, of myself.

You see, I might

fall in love with you.

And would that be

such a calamity?

Yes, it would.

There is only one way

I can afford to love you.

How?

In the way that

Pygmalion loved Galatea.

In the way that every artist

loves the masterpiece he has created.

You are my creation,

you know.

When you first came to me,

you were merely pretty.

Little by little, I molded you,

as Pygmalion molded his statue,

until you became

my most beautiful achievement.

It all sounds very poetic,

but not terribly thrilling.

It could be

terribly thrilling if...

If what?

It's just as well

you're going out of my life.

Must I?

Why?

Because...

Because what?

Because there's nothing more

I can do for you.

Are you sure?

Will you do me

a great favor?

What?

Put this on.

I'll mail you the measurements.

Goodbye.

Has the doctor finished

with madame?

He only thinks he has.

Anything wrong?

No, I got away.

Was she difficult?

Very difficult.

Oh, why can't

women be sensible?

Probably because

you won't let them.

What do you mean?

I mean that you've built yourself up

into such a glamorous figure

that all these women are dazzled

into thinking they're in love with you.

But it isn't you they fall for,

it's just the trimmings.

Yes, I suppose you're right.

It's just a little hard on

one's self-esteem to have to admit it.

It's nothing to feel

badly about.

These aren't the kind of women

who can appreciate your real qualities.

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