Woman Times Seven Page #3

Speak to me!

Oh, Mama mia, that hurts.

- My precious sweetheart!

- Oh, Mama mia, that hurts.

Oh, my darling love!

Oh, my precious baby,

cuddly pumpkin!

The light of my life!

Oh, the gold of my dreams!

Oh, Daddy Bear!

I'm sure you're the young lady

that's been speaking...

such beautiful English

into my earphones.

Am I right?

I knew that voice could only come

from someone looking like you.

And, well, I wanted to thank you.

You're welcome.

I mean, you don't just translate.

Your voice, well, sings it.

It's like music.

Miss Interpreter... Excuse me.

I need your help to speak...

to one of our Japanese

colleagues over there...

if I'm not disturbing you.

With your permission then.

You English devils.

Scots.

Thank you, young lady...

but, unfortunately,

we won't need your services...

because I know the Italian language.

I was in Rome

in 1942, '52, '62, and last week.

Very well then, gentlemen.

With your permission.

Now, would you be so good

as to express the admiration...

of Dr. McCormick

for the Pyramids...

the Suez Canal, the desert,

everything?

"The words of my colleague

are of exquisite beauty. "

"Especially as it is

from your lips that they fall"...

that is to say, my lips.

"It would give me

the greatest pleasure"...

"if you would spend

the evening with me"...

"and possibly all night, too. "

Miss! Miss Interpreter!

May I call you by your first name?

- Why not?

- Thank you.

I could live my whole life through,

top of a mountain...

just calling you Linda.

On top of a mountain?

On top of a mountain, yes.

Your whole life through.

My whole life through.

Just saying my name.

Just saying your name.

Liar.

Bob's the only man

who never lies.

You live alone?

I live with Bob.

He's in Calcutta now.

I can just imagine your wee house.

I see it all.

Pink.

It's white.

White, with lots of flowers,

paintings, chairs.

Go on.

Lamp shades.

And a bed.

That's what you

were thinking of, wasn't it?

A bed?

I was thinking

of a chest of drawers.

Believe me.

From the moment I saw you...

you only exist for me

from here to here.

Where would I ever find

another man like Bob?

A man who could discuss Sartre,

the greats of literature...

sculpture, painting...

read poetry aloud...

calmly and serenely...

while I'm nude?

Nude?

"Like a patient etherized

upon a table...

"let us go through certain

half-deserted streets...

"the muttering retreats

of restless nights...

"in one-night cheap hotels...

"and sawdust restaurants

with oyster shells.

"Streets that follow

like a tedious argument...

"of insidious intent...

"to lead you

to an overwhelming question. "

What a beautiful atmosphere

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