The Constant Nymph

I have telephoned

all over Brussels for you.

What kind of a husband are you

to desert your wife like this?

I walked from the office

by way of the park.

And while you walked in the park

I had to send for Dr. Renee.

Because you're ill?

No, Mr. Dodd had a letter from

the papers from London.

A boarder gets a letter,

so, you send for the doctor?

I thought he'd go insane!

He threw his piano

over on the floor.

Tore up his music. All of it.

The work of a year.

Good. We shall not hear it again.

He shouted out loud that he was

no longer a composer.

I would have shouted it to him

long before...

...if boarders were easy to find.

He said he was no longer

a composer, but a mechanic.

A mechanic? Maybe he is.

I'll go up.

Tell me, my dear doctor,

do you know the difference...

...between a consonance

and a dissonance?

I'm a doctor of medicine,

not a doctor of music.

I don't like doctors,

I don't need doctors.

-What do you need, Mr. Dodd?

-Nothing. I have everything.

This is very inconvenient.

I have patients at the hospital.

-Why am I here?

-Why are any of us here, doctor?

I don't know why

we're here now...

...but I know why

you won't be here tomorrow.

Marie and I will require

this room.

Georges, you will consult me

about that.

I've decided!

The house is in my charge!

That is my piano

and this is my chair!

Is there any insanity

in your family, Mr. Dodd?

I have no family, how could I have

any insanity in it?

My dear doctor,

I'd like to pay you,

to thank you and

say good-bye.

It is my opinion that you are

much more than slightly mad.

-Thank you, doctor.

-Adieu.

Good-bye.

Before you put

that money back,

will you glance at this piano?

It's broken.

Can no one be right but me?

What would calm you, Mr. Dodd?

I don't know.

Brandy will not calm you.

And you're smoking all the time.

-You received something from England.

-Oh, yes, from London.

As you know, my symphony was presented

at Regents Hall in London last week.

-Remember?

-Yes, it was very strange music.

Did you ever tell me it was strange?

You heard it?

-We heard it so many times.

-I see.

And it made you uncomfortable.

-Oh, no, no...

-Yes, why should we be afraid?

Georges is right,

listen to this.

This is the foremost

music critic in London:

"It is inconceivable

to this critic..."

"...that a program as delicately

conceived as this..."

"...should be mire by the rude intrusion

of uncomfortable dissonance."

They were uncomfortable, Georges,

and so were you.

It must be that I was uncomfortable

and I conveyed it through my music.

But, we try to make you

comfortable here.

You worked for

a whole year!

That's right, a year, to become

a mechanic. Listen to this:

"However, it is to be considered

that Mr. Dodd,"

"the brilliant, young,

Belgium modernist,"

has accomplished a series of

tonal mechanics."

Now, you see?

I am a mechanic!

-There was another foreign letter.

-I didn't see it.

Yes, two of them.

One from London and

one from Switzerland.

Switzerland? The Sangers!

-What about dinner, Marie?

-What about dinner, Marie?

Every Christmas,

when you go to the Sanger,

you come back so changed

and so gay.

Well, I've known them

since they were babies.

I've seen them grow up.

Your Dr. Renee should meet them.

There he would find insanity

of the most enchanting kind.

Good place for you to go.

-Oh, Georges, please...

What about dinner, Marie?

Ah, poor Sanger.

-Mr. Dodd.

-Mm?

You remember you wrote a song

for the Sanger children?

-A little song?

-Mm-hmm, but you did not send it.

Oh, that. It was too sad.

They're so gay, I threw it away.

No, I found it in the rubbish.

-Here it is.

-You did! Look.

Cello for Kate.

She's the eldest.

Violin for Paula. Little Paula,

she's the youngest.

Piano for Toni...

...and viola for Tessa,

the pick of the bunch.

And the mother?

They all have different mothers,

except Paula and Tessa.

Yes, these two share

the same mother.

And what has Mr. Sanger besides

children and all their mothers?

A genius for music and

a new Russian wife.

-He's rich?

-Tremendously rich.

So much so, sometimes he hasn't got

enough money to buy food.

Yet, they live in a chalet

in Switzerland.

Yes, a beautiful dilapidated spot.

I must go there tonight,

I can't wait.

Give Georges a hug, a kiss and

tell him not to be angry.

And ask him to send a telegram

for me, to Albert Sanger.

Here's the address.

"Arriving Wednesday, kill a pig and

buy some decent brandy. Lewis."

Thank you, Marie.

What's the matter, Roberto?

What is it?

"Arriving Wednesday, kill a pig and

buy some decent brandy. Lewis."

My God, I've been swimming and

I got my hair wet! Oh...!

Kate!

Kate! Kate!

-You'll wake your father.

-He's coming! Lewis is coming!

He says:
"kill a pig

a buy some decent brandy"!

There, yeah, brandy.

-For Mr. Sanger.

-Give it to me.

I'll get his room ready

with some lovely flowers--

No, we have another guest coming,

a Mr... Mr. Trigorin.

He must have that room and--

Lewis must go to the stable loft.

Oh, God, I got my hair wet--

It'll dry in the sun!

Get Paula, you'll both help me

with the rooms.

Paula!

Paula!

Quiet, you'll wake your father.

Who cares?

You've broken my spine,

I suppose you know that.

-Lewis is coming.

-When?

Any minute.

That ribbon happens to belong to me.

-Where's mine?

-I don't know.

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