Madonna of the Seven Moons

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Maddalena.

The Reverend Mother wishes to see you.

Maddalena, I had this letter this morning

from your father.

He thinks you have been with us long enough

and now you ought to take

your proper place in life.

I But, Reverend Mother I

want to stay here always.

That's just how I'd like you to feel.

But we can't always think of ourselves, my child.

Your father has plans for your future.

You've heard of Mr Guiseppe Labardi?

I met him once.

- With Father.

- Mr Labardi wants to marry you.

It would make your father very happy.

Marry? No, no.

I don't want to get married.

I want to stay here with you always.

- You want to disappoint your father?

- No, Reverend Mother.

We shall miss you, Maddalena.

I want you to take this prayerbook

for your comfort always.

- Thank you, Reverend Mother.

- Bless you, my child.

- It's so quaint and charming.

- I've had that prayerbook for years.

It was given me just before I was married.

Now, about this idea of yours, sister,

I'd really much rather not.

Madame Labardi, without you,

there would have been

no children's ward in our hospital.

It's only right that it should bear your name.

I couldn't possibly agree to that.

I meant to have done so much more

for the children than I have.

Much more for my own daughter too.

Well? Did you persuade Maddalena?

No, Mr Labardi, she would not consent.

I warned you that she will not advertise.

- Mario.

- Good afternoon.

Good afternoon.

Pity Botticelli isn't alive.

I would like him to paint you as you are now.

- He painted saints.

- I know.

Looking at that map again?

I suppose it's all right

for Angela and that girl

to come all the way from England by car

at their age.

Why, of course.

She must be having the time of her life

after being in school for five years.

That's what I'm afraid of.

It may be too much for her.

- She's such a quiet, retiring child.

- She was.

When I last saw her in England,

she'd come a long way out of her shell.

School and England will have changed her

quite a bit, you know.

I hope not too much.

Five years is a long time to be

separated from your daughter.

I'm looking forward

to picking up the old threads.

Frankly, my dear,

I should forget about the old threads.

Be prepared for some new ones.

We've got to move with the times.

- Her times.

- I hate them coming all that way alone.

Let's look at that map.

They must have broken the back

oftheir journey by now.

Let me see. Here we are.

They crossed from Dover to Calais

on Monday morning.

So if I'm any judge,

by now they should've reached Cannes.

In the back. There'll be three of us.

- Are you going far, monsieur?

- Rome, but breaking the journey at Florence.

- Hello, Angela. You ready?

- You haven't got to go just yet?

- Yes.

- I wish I was going with you.

- What a lovely time last night.

- Goodbye, everybody.

- We've been ditched! Millie isn't coming.

- Rubbish. Of course she is.

- She isn't, Evelyn.

- Why not?

Just another of her crushes.

She's just like her mother.

- You don't mean that dancer fellow?

- Sandro Barucci.

It's a lovely name

even if you don't like the rest of him.

- I'll talk to her.

- It won't do any good.

- Angela!

- Sandro!

We were just talking about you.

Somebody ought to drop you in a pond.

Why? It was Millie's idea staying on here

not mine.

Then they ought to drop you in two ponds.

Don't be silly, Lyn.

You ought to be grateful.

- It leaves you and Angela alone.

- Now, look here, Millie... Oh!

- Come on, Angela, let's go.

- Have a good time, darlings.

Au revoir, Angela. We shall meet again.

- Bye, everybody.

Goodbye!

Hey, Sandro, I thought you said

those flowers were for me.

- For you, orchids.

- Where are they?

There you are. Soon be there.

Bear up a little longer.

How very unromantic. Thought you liked it.

I do, enormously.

But I don't want to run into anything.

Then you shouldn't have

such a comfortable shoulder.

I suppose you think I'm a responsibility.

A nice one, but I'm taking no risks.

Is that why they put you

in the Diplomatic Service?

Of course!

I wonder why I like you so much.

You're not a person I expect to like.

- Lyn, did you wire about our rooms?

- Yes, Hotel Barbarelli. With baths.

- I hope they have a swing band!

- Band? Aren't you supposed to be tired?

I'm never too tired to dance.

- I wonder if I take after Maddalena.

- Who?

My fond mama. Can you imagine

the glorious time we're going to have?

Dances, parties, theatres.

Perhaps she isn't that kind of mother.

- What a terrifying thought.

- I don't know.

I would give someone else the chance.

- You, for instance?

- Ifthere isn't too much competition.

- Oh, I dare say there will be.

- Now, you listen to me.

No. I'm much too tired.

Don't bother with that thing. Ask somebody.

Excuse me. Could you direct me

to the Hotel Barbarelli?

I'm sorry, I don't live here.

Excuse me.

Are you a stranger in these parts?

No. You are.

We are looking for the Hotel Barbarelli.

You go straight down that road

for about 200 yards.

Then you turn left. Not the first turning

or the second, the third.

- By the statue. After that...

- Thanks. We'll find it somehow.

Never mind, I'll go. Yes, yes, I'm coming.

Can't you hear I'm coming?

- Good afternoon, Tessa.

- Dr Ackroyd, I didn't know it was you.

- Mr Labardi phoned for me.

- I know, I listened to him.

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