The Night Porter Page #5

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- Ah, no, no. Too fast, too fast.

Too long. Too long.

- Tell me. Tell me !

- I want you !

Tell me what to do. Tell me what to do.

Tell me what to do!

No!

I love you so.

- Shh.

My little girl.

No. Nobody's here.

No. He's gone upstairs.

- He has gone up.

- Where?

Well, they called him.

Will he be gone long?

Depends on the lady.

- What lady?

- The American.

The American.

The conductor's wife.

Probably wanted to be cheered up.

- And the, the husband?

- He left.

Telegram... from your husband.

If you want to call Frankfurt,

just pick up the phone.

- What are you doing here?

- Work, excellency.

- At this time? What are you doing?

- I told you.

Get downstairs.

It all seems lost.

Something unexpected happens.

Ghosts... take shape in the mind.

How can one pull away from it?

This phantom.

The voice and the body.

This part of one's self.

Amen.

Greta doesn't believe

that Mario's death was an accident.

She has consulted Moritz the lawyer.

I know him. I can speak to him.

Don't speak to anybody.

I want to have a talk

with Greta's doctor.

Let's go.

- Are you sure?

- Yes. Are you leaving right away?

-Shall I call a taxi?

-Thank you, and a telegram form, please.

Certainly.

Here you are, madam.

Can't join you in Berlin either.

Will meet in New York.

Please don't worry.

All is well.

- Will you send it right away, please?

- Of course.

Good evening, Max.

I'm not too late, I hope.

I still have to prepare the show--

Stravinsky, The Firebird, as we planned.

No show tonight, Bert.

I, um, can't leave the desk.

Only postponed, right?

I will dance better

with a few more rehearsals.

Too bad about the flowers.

It's only postponed.

Oh.

Don't. Leave it. Leave it.

- You always break your fingernails.

- There.

- Thank you.

And so, there is a woman, hmm?

No.

Thank you.

Max, you don't trust me anymore.

You have changed. Thank you.

I met her again.

My little girl.

You mean, the little girl from then.

I found her again.

I found her again.

And no one must touch her.

Who'd dream of touching her?

Oh, Max, be careful.

Before she could testify against you,

you should file her away.

Oh. Oh, no.

- But--

- No.

I love her.

What a madman.

She's my little girl.

She was very young.

- And now she's not.

Yes. Yes, she--

She's exactly the same

as she was for me.

- Oh, Max.

- As she was then.

I've never seen you

so much in love.

I thought she was dead.

What a romantic story.

No.

No, it's... not romantic.

- No?

- It's not romantic.

It's a biblical story.

Yes? Well, tell me.

Tell me what it's about.

Well--

It's a story from the Bible.

- Shall I tell you?

- Please.

It's not very pleasant.

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