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Blood and Wine Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS BLOOD AND WINE Written by Nick Villiers SECOND DRAFT DECEMBER 12, 1994 FADE IN: A PAIR OF HANDS men's hands, nicely groomed, hold a small white terry towel spoiled by blood-red spots. The hands rinse the towel in a copper bar sink. The stains soften but stay. A tan jacket sleeve, spotted the same way, moves INTO FRAM. The hands dab the wet towel at the spots, with no more success, and throw it into the sink. It falls half in, still dripping the stains a drop at a time to the floor. ALL IN CLOSEUP The owner of the hands walks to a wine rack, opens a bottle of white wine, drizzles the wine on the jacket sleeve. The stains disappear. He hangs his jacket on a hook and walks from THE CELLAR and up the narrow stairs. His FOOTFALLS ECHO against the unadorned cement block walls. We see his shape, mid- forties, powerful, his shirt pulled out. He's carrying the open bottle by the neck. 2 INT. WINE STORE - NIGHT Still seen from behind, the man emerges from the cellar into a contrastingly elegant space with a wood-beamed. ceiling, vaguely European. He walks along a narrow aisle of wooden diamond bins. As the space widens his foot hits something in his path. He bends to find a shoe. He glances about nervously. There are shutters on the storefront windows. Shoe in hand, he tightens the shutters. We see his profile, a good-looking man. He walks toward a brighter room at the back of the store, the Tasting Room. Now he retrieves a pair of women's trousers from the floor, and as he straightens up we see his entire face, genial, venial, redeemed by his smile. ALEX GATES. He speaks nonchalantly toward the room. ALEX Twenty people tonight. I got a South Beach widow, a plastic surgeon -- they actually came together. (A BEAT) These people -- all they really want is something to brag about at dinner parties. He swigs from the bottle of white wine, grimaces, detours behind the counter, and spits the mouthful into the plastic lined wastebasket. He throws the bottle away. (CONTINUED) 2. 2 2 CONTINUED: There's a basket of baguettes on the counter. Alex breaks off an end and chews it to rid his mouth of the taste of the wine. Still chewing, he walks toward the tasting room. ALEX There I was, passing the wine, passing the bread, I suddenly felt like the priest at Masst Or maybe Mass started out as a wine tasting, and Jesus was a salesman. what do you think? He goes into THE TASTING ROOM It seems empty except for a large wooden table, folding chairs in disarray, open bottles clustered at one end of the table. A chalkboard on the wall has CHATEAU BEYCHEVELLE written across it at the top, vintages listed underneath. The woman's voice that replies is Gabriella's. GABRIELLA (0.S.) (with a throaty laugh) Maybe I should get dressed. Leaning against the corner is a woman wearing only her panties and a shirt. In her mid-twenties she has striking South American looks. GABRIELLA VASQUEZ. She's sipping red wine from a plastic glass. GABRIETM I don't want to spoil a religious experience. ALEX -- Ever heard of Georges Duboeuf? He throws away some of the glasses. ALEX Duboeuf has a nose and a palate -- like a gift from God. He can taste a single grape before the harvest... and describe the beaujolais it's going to produce. She laughs. GABRIELLA Oh, you have competition. (CONTINUED) 3. 2 2 CONTINUED: (2) ALEX (SLIGHTLY ANNOYED) You know how many bottles I have in this store? Open any one of 'em, I'll tell you the vintage and vintner, b lindfolded. He bends down to pick up the chunks of baguette strewn on the floor. He doesn't see her slip off her panties. She walks behind him, twirling them into a tight band. She whips them over his eyes. He laughs. GABRIELLA Okay. Show me. ALEX Victoria's Secret 95. She passes her glass under his nose. ALEX Gabriella, I picked these wines. GABRIELLA So what is it? ALEX All I can smell is your perfume. She laughs. GABRIELLA I'm not wearing any. ALEX I even bought it for you. She opens her shirt. She's not wearing a bra. She lowers her breast to the glass and then to his mouth. GABRIELLA Tell me now. He kisses her wet breast. ALEX (WITHOUT HESITATION) Beychevelle '83. Lot of body. Very aggressive. He pulls off the panty blindfold, kisses her on the mouth softly, then fully. (CONTINUED) 4. 2 2 CONTINUED: (3) GABRIELLA (LOW) -- I lo e y u, Alex. V O 3 3 INT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT (LATER) Alex is unlocking the door for Gabriella. Dressed, she looks younger. They're awkward with each other. GABRIELLA Don't think you have to say it because .1 say it, Alex. (SMILING BRIGHTLY) Doesn't mean anything.. ALEX It means something to me. GABRIELLA (EASED) We're good together, aren't we. Alex lets out a breath. ALEX Oh, yeah... We're pretty good. He kisses her goodbye, unlocks the door. She goes out to her Honda Civic. Alex doesn't wait to see her drive off before he heads back to finish cleaning up the tasting room. 4 4 INT. TASTING ROOM - NIGHT Alex straightens the last chair and starts to extract air from the open bottles. He hears a quiet CLANK of METAL. Instantly alert, he reaches for his jacket and turns off the-light. 5 5 INT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT Behind the cash register Alex opens a drawer and takes out a revolver. ze thumbs the safety off. The NOISES RECUR, like someone trying to break in through the back door from the parking lot. Alex slings his jacket casually over the gun. 5. 6 6 EXT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT Alex throws open the back door; he's counting on the element of surprise. HIS POV His red Cadillac convertible is idling nose.to the chain locked across the parking lot. A MAN in his twenties, whose tropical shirt fairly glows under the security lights, is using a pair of bolt cutters on the chain. ALEX (ADVANCING) You think you're gonna steal my car, asshole? The younger man whirls around. YOUNG MAN You scared me, man. A middle-aged man, a REPO MAN, calls out lazily from behind the wheel. REPO MAN This is not your car, sir. This car belongs to the Star Leasing Company. Alex buries the gun in the rear of his waistband as though he's rubbing his stiff back and cranks his smile to a higher wattage than the security lights. REPO MAN I can collect either the money or the car. Given how much you owe, I figure it's the car. The younger man has almost hacked through the chain. ALEX Pop the. trunk. REPO MAN We inventory the property at the yard. He keeps his eye on the chain, ready to gun the engine as soon as the exit is clear. ALEX I just want to show you something. Worked by the combination of natural curiosity and Alex's charm; the repo man pops the trunk and gets out of the still-running car. (CONTINUED) 6. 6 6 CONTINUED: In his hand he has the locking "Club" Alex usually uses to secure his. steering wheel. He's not stupid. Amused, Alex takes a step back, palms up. YOUNG MAN What are you doing? The repo man ignores him and looks in the trunk. ALEX Do you drink? REPO MAN Not on the job. What is this, booze? ALEX Two cases of single malt whiskey aged in the barrel before he was born. REPO MAN The Caddy's overdue. ALEX So are you. Drink it with the kid. Teach him what smooth is. Enjoy yourselves. Isn't that worth a few days' breather... (A BEAT) My accountant's a fuck-up. So am I, maybe, for not firing him. The bolt cutters clip through. The chain falls. YOUNG MAN We're clear. 7 7 INT. CADILLAC - NIGHT Alex is driving fast, top down, Samba MUSIC loud on the STEREO. He keeps time on the wheel as the Miami skyline cruises by. EXT. CADILLAC - NIGHT Alex turns into the garage of an expensive condominium building before the gate has slid all the way open. The TIRES SQUEAL as he powers the car around the corner. (CONTINUED) 7. 8 8 CONTINUED: A DUCATI MOTORCYCLE hogs his space. Alex lays the car in tightly. He has to squeeze out the door. He bumps the Ducati. It starts to topple; he grabs it before it goes over. 9 9 INT. CONDO - NIGHT Alex lets himself in. The entry ALARM starts to BEEP. He turns it off and resets it. The light has been left on in the kitchen. 10 10 INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT JASON, a handsome, troubled 17-year-old with long, dark hair, is filing barbs off a pile of fishing hooks on the center island. He looks harder and wiser than his years. Tackle is strewn everywhere. Some spaghetti remains in the pot it was cooked in and Jason's knife is standing upright in it. Alex walks into the kitchen. He makes an effort to be pleasant, although he's irritated by the mess, by the motorcycle. ALEX It's late, Jason. JASON I'm going out tonight. Alex exhales. ALEX You can't'fish all night and work all day. JASON Working for you doesn't exactly tax my mind. ALEX No wonder you drop bottles. JASON Fire me. ALEX Do you do it on purpose? JASON Fishing bought me my bike. (CONTINUED) 8. 10 10 CONTINUED: ALEX I almost knocked it over trying to get out of the car. JASON (SARCASTIC) I wasn't sure you were coming home. SEVERS The TOASTER OVEN DINGS. Jason takes out a muffin, it in two with his fishing knife. ALEX Use a regular knife. JASON This has a better edge. Feel it (pointing it at Alex, BLADE FLAT) -- feel it. Their voices are rising. ALEX Pointed, it's a fucking weapon. Put it away. JASON Hell with you. Jason exits to the stairs. ALEX And keep your voice down. Your mother's asleep. STAIRS JASON If you got home on time once in a while, maybe she could skip the chemical help. Alex is also on the stairs. ALEX You have no idea, none, zip, what goes on in a marriage. JASON Yeah, well, I'm learning more than I want to. (CONTINUED)' 9. 10 10 CONTINUED: (2) LANDING UPSTAIRS SUZANNE (O .S=.. ) Now what are you arguing about? SUZANNE is a pretty young woman in her late thirties with a sense of humor and irony. She's chemically relaxed, but not stupefied. She pulls a robe around herself, modest in front of her son; and although her body's not spectacular, like Gabriella's, she has a trim. athletic build. JASON It's not an argument. ALEX I asked him to clean up downstairs. SUZANNE (SOOTHING ALEX) Maybe he hadn't finished- ALEX A modicum of cooperation, you know? JASON A modicum. What's that. Modicum my ass. He pushes past his mother toward his own room. Suzanne follows him down the hallway, leaving. Alex behind. SUZANNE I don't like that tone from: you. JASON Then go to bed. ALEX Hey! JASON (RIGHT BACK) What! SUZANNE It's too late for this. ALEX Jason has gone into his room. He slams the door. CHOOSES enters his bedroom. Suzanne, alone for a-moment, to enter Jason's room. 10. 11 11 INT. JASON'S ROOM SUZANNE He's my husband. JASON (SOFTLY) I know, Mom. SUZANNE -- I still love him. JASON Whatever. She walks out. 12 12 INT. BATHROOM - NIGHT Alex stands under water as hot as he can stand, parboiling himself. Eyes squeezed shut, he lets out a long breath. His life demands more energy than he has anymore. He soaps himself thoroughly. 13 13 INT. MASTER BEDROOM - NIGHT Suzanne hears the front DOOR SLAM. Jason's DUCATI STARTS UP and ACCELERATES away. Alex comes out of the bathroom in a towel. SUZANNE (FONDLY) Lie down, I'll give you a back rub. She stumbles slightly against the bed, catches a bed post for balance, flops back on the bed with a laugh. SUZANNE -- maybe I'd better lie down. He bends down to kiss her, then heads for the television. Suzanne props herself up on her elbows. He pops a cassette into the VCR: porno, she assumes. She does her best. SUZANNE I liked the twin nurses. There was kind of a story. Alex brings the remote control back to bed. ALEX You'll like this one better. (CONTINUED) 11. 13 13 CONTINUED: He hangs his towel on a doorknob, slides into bed, starts the tape, which begins with sweat-slick dancing girls at Carnival. To Suzanne's astonishment, it turns out to be a travelog. SUZANNE Rio? ALEX I've been so busy. We could sneak away for a week.. Would you like that? SUZANNE If we really go. Last time I packed, we went nowhere. ALEX (SLEEPILY) Last time was different. SUZANNE (watching the tape) The beaches -- I thought we had a beach. I read how the hotels keep spotters on the roof with scopes, to keep thieves away from the guests. They can look at every inch of your body through the scope. (with a low laugh) Do you mind that I like that? Alex? He has fallen asleep. Tenderly she draws the sheet to his shoulder and settles down to watch the rest of the tape. DISSOLVE TO: 14 EXT. BOAT - DAWN 14 On the flying bridge of an old fishing boat, Jason eases the throttle to idle speed. The engine quiets down. The SWELLS SLAP harder against the wooden sides. The boat dips and dances to the music of the water. Jason swings down the ladder. He sets up his linis to troll. The starry dome of the sky is starting to brighten around its rim. Jason leans on the transom and stares at the flat, silvery wedge of wake. He breathes out a word. JASON :. Bite... (CONTINUED) 12. 14 14 CONTINUED: Nothing happens. He doesn't move. Then the top of one of the rods shivers slightly, goes still. Jason delicately fingers the rod like a blind man reading Braille, to feel for vibration. A smile pulls at his mouth. He steps behind the rod. The fish hits. JASON (CALLING OUT) Henryl Fish ont The line screams out. Jason's ready. He sets the hook. JASON Time to go to work, man! C'mon. A tall, black drifter appears from-below, still yawning, scratching. HENRY, 33. He wears a red Panama hat that's weathered his head for some time. HENRY Who we got? JASON Let's find out. He hauls back on the rod, the line rises from the ocean, they both recognize the fish at the end. HENRY Fucking sharks. Miami's fished out of the good stuff. Damn. He spits over the side. Jason grins. JASON This one's got more to worry about than you do. He starts to reel in the fish. Henry moves to the wheel.- HENRY Just shoot 'Jaws' in the water. I want to know the sucker's good and dead 'fore he sets a fin in my boat. You got a barb on that hook? . JASON Oh, yeah. Jason braces for the fight. 13. 15 15 EXT. DOCK - MORNING Jason and Henry are cutting the shark with the speed and dexterity of professionals. HENRY The Gulf, man, that's the place. And what makes you think fifty-fifty is right? My boat. My gas. JASON My skill. (slicing off the fins) ... My fins. 16 16 EXT. FISH MARKET - LONG SHOT - MORNING Jason and Henry slap their catch onto the Fishmonger's slippery counter. The market's noisy, men shouting. We see the negotiation from a distance. 17 EXT. DOCK - DAY (MINUTES LATE) 17 Jason and Henry walk through the hubbub. HENRY You cool? JASON I'm cool. HENRY We cool. Jason guns his Ducati. 18 INT. WINE STORE - DAY 18 Alex comes out of his office. ALEX Rob, has Jason shown up? A man's French-accented VOICE answers him from the store. ROBERT (O.S.) Not yet. ALEX You have his paycheck there? ROBERT All ready. (CONTINUED) 14. 18 18 CONTINUED: Alex takes it, and rips it up. 19 19 INT. CHINESE RESTAURANT - DAY The Chinese CHEF in the busy, steamy kitchen is inspecting the shark fins Jason has brought him. Jason is anxious to finish business and go. CHEF You no like my company? Fine. Who cares. Bring me more fin, you retire. You no want to retire? Good. Don't charge starving Chinese so much for these things. JASON You ever caught a shark? CHEF (BIGGER) You ever cook one? JASON Lemme -- lemme show you something. Jason pulls up the sleeve of his denim jacket to display a fresh gash across his arm. JASON He was already gaffed onto the side of the boat, good as dead. Two hours dead! And I was still too close to the mouth. Revenge is the last instinct to go, did you know that? The chef shrugs and shows his thumb, missing a joint. CHEF -- Work's a dangerous thing. (smiling with lots of TEETH) Nice fin, Jason. He tosses the fins in a cauldron of boiling water, slaps the CASH REGISTER on the side. It RINGS. 20 20 EXT. RESTAURANT - DAY Jason jams on his helmet and starts his. motorcycle, guns it down the street. (CONTINUED) 15. 20 20 CONTINUED: MIAMI SKYLINE Jason weaves through traffic, expert enough to take chances that goose the adrenalin. 21 21 EXT. WINE SHOP - DAY Robert and Alex are loading cases of wine into the trunk of the Caddy when Jason skids into the parking lot. He takes off his helmet. ALEX Just get in the car. 22 22 INT. CADILLAC - DAY (TRAVELING) Jason has fallen asleep while Alex drives. Alex picks up Jason's hand. Jerking awake, Jason tries to pull away, but his reflexes are sleep-slowed. Alex sniffs Jason's fingers, wrinkles his nose, lets Jason have his hand back. ALEX You stink. JASON I washed. ALEX There's Wash IN Dries in the glove compartment. Jason opens the compartment, finds the packets, opens one, rubs his hands. ALEX ... I'm trying here, Jason -- I really am. When you didn't want to go to college, I took your side, I said fine -- I mean, I -didn't finish college, and I've done all right. I gave you a job', a steady check, which is more than anybody else has done. And what do I get back? Shit. I've tried to teach you the business -- the care, the finesse... Jason laughs dismissively. (CONTINUED) 16. 22 22 CONTINUED: ALEX Well, look at it this way, Jason, someday you'll have your boat and I'll have my vineyard, and the best part '11 be they're nowhere near each other. JASON (SATISFIED) I'll send you a Christmas card. ALEX Save the stamp. They turn into the driveway to an expensive development. 23 23 EXT. SECURITY BOOTH, CORAL GABLES - DAY The Cadillac rolls to a stop at the ate. A tough, but amicable-looking armed guard in his forties, MIKE, opens the window of the air-conditioned booth. His RADIO is tuned to the FOOTBALL GAME. ALEX Hi, mike -- what's the score? MIKE (CHECKING THE APPOINTMENT BOARD) Dolphins down by nine, minute forty to go. It's over. ALEX Don't underestimate Marino. Mike ticks off the appointment, raises the gate. MIKE I told you, they don't have it this year. With a wave of acknowledgment for Mike, Alex.. drives onto the grounds. ALEX (YELLING BACK) Judas! Grinning, Mike routinely writes down the license plate number. 17. 24 24 EXT. CADILLAC - DAY Alex cruises past a collection of oversized villas, and turns into the driveway of the gaudiest. He and Jason climb out of the car. Alex opens the trunk. He loads two wine cases into Jason's arms, takes the third himself. They haven't said a word to each other. 25 25 EXT. VILLA - DAY Alex rings the intercom with his elbow. Gabriella's VOICE CRACKLES in response. GABRIELLA (V.O.) on the intercom) Who is it? ALEX Wine delivery. The INTERCOM CLICKS off. They hear FOOTSTEPS approaching. The door opens. Jason's eyes focus. He's hooked. Gabriella is smiling at Alex. She has her arms full of clean burp cloths. GABRIELLA Oh, the boss himself! ALEX (with a modest chuckle) How are you? She glances politely toward Jason, not at all expecting what she sees. A circuit connects between them. ALEX Gabriella takes care of Baby Reese. (TO GABRIELLA) This is my stepson, Jason. GABRIELLA (VERY CORRECT) How do you do. JASON Hi. GABRIELLA Is the wine for the boat? Come through the house. 18. 26 26 INT./EXT. VILLA - DAY They follow her inside. Jason takes in the richness of the place, but is more focussed on Gabriella. They exit TO T he lawn which leads to a dock. 27 27 EXT. REESES' BOAT DAY A sleek, ocean-going yacht is tied up at the dock, the crew unobtrusively at work. FRANK REESE, a powerful, confidant man in his mid-sixties, is sitting with his INSURANCE AGENT at a table on deck where policies are spread out next to a jewelry box. Reese's expensive 35- year-old wife DINA has turned her chair to sun her legs while she plays with the BABY. DINA -- what's the point of having it, if I can't wear it, Frank? AGENT (DEFERENTIALLY) You can wear it anywhere you like, Mrs. Reese -- except out of the country. Gabriella leads Alex and Jason aboard. Frank likes Alex and is glad to see him. Alex can't help glancing at Dina's long legs.. She smiles. FRANK Alex, should we insure the wine while we're at it? His arms tired,'Alex is happy to set down the case. ALEX Aren't you covered on your home policy? GABRIELLA (TO JASON) I'll show you, come on. AGENT How much wine are we talking about? Jason follows Gabriella down below, the VOICES on the deck fading. DINA (O.S.) Why bother insuring it? Let's drink it instead. 19. 28 28 INT. BOAT - DAY It's quiet inside, not tasteful but impressive, like everything else of the Reeses. Jason takes a stab at conversation. JASON Big boat. Gabriella laughs and looks over her shoulder at him. They're both kids. GABRIELLA ugly, isn't it. He grins and relaxes, looks around. JASON The fittings are definitely -- yeah on the ugly side. But damn, she's solid. GABRIELLA Oh, a boat type. JASON (proud, defensive) I like.boats. Gabriella shows him the climatized, built-in wine closet next to the galley. He starts to rack the bottles while she watches. He talks to stop her from leaving. JASON So where you headed? GABRIELLA I'm not going, 'I can't go. JASON They don't want to take the baby. GABRIELLA I don't have a green card, I can't leave the country. Baby goes with an American nurse. I house-sit. It's fine. JASON You don't like them. Gabriella laughs. (CONTINUED) 20. 28 28 CONTINUED: GABRIELLA God. I'm obvious. I just don't like working for people, but that's life. He chafes under authority the same way she does. JASON Doesn't have to be. GABRIELLA Maybe not with a rich stepfather. He laughs. JASON Worst kind. GABRIELLA (CORRECTIVELY) No. (A BEAT) You don't appreciate what you have, Jason. It's very poor where I came from. JASON Where's that? GABRIELLA Venezuela. Do I look it? JASON I don't know, I never been there. GABRIELLA Well, I don't. My mother's Indian. The India kind of Indian. (LAUGHS) Imagine a house where the father asks 'What's for dinner' in Spanish, and the mother answers 'Curry' in Hindi. 'Que hay para cenar' she says, 'Murgee, masala, ghaal.' He says, 'No es importante.' No wonder I'm nuts. JASON You don't seem too nuts. She laughs. GABRIELLA You don't know mel (OOR1TINUED ) 21. 28 CONTINUED: .( 2) 28 They're suddenly both very aware that they're alone together. 29 29 EXT. BOAT, THE DECK - DAY The agent is putting a magnificent diamond necklace in a velvet pouch that he fastidiously cinches and ties. Alex looks away from it to take a bottle out of the remaining case on deck. AGENT -- so back to the safe it goes -- Dina lifts up the baby and smells its bottom. FRANK Dina, that's disgusting. DINA The alternative is using your fingers, Frank. which offends you more? Alex laughs. Frank pushes back his chair. FRANK Don't encourage her, Alex. Her mouth is big enough. Dina is hurt. FRANK (to the agent) I'll show you that painting in our stateroom. The agent follows him away. ALEX (kindly; to Dina) Do you want to see the label? She hides her hurt by not looking at him. DINA Just open the bottle, Alex. Pour us both a glass. I'm not allowed to drink alone. When she turns her head and looks at him, she's flirting. 22. 30 30 INT. BOAT - DAY Jason has almost finished storing the wine. Gabriella is sitting on a bar stool at the galley,. listening to him, snared by the quiet passion in his voice. JASON -- when you're skimming along the water, nothing between you and the bottom of the sea but a layer of wood, your thoughts... end. All that noise inside your head? Gabriella nods, understanding exactly. JASON . . . Stops. Dina's VOICE booms over the INTERCOM, startling both of them. The BABY is FUSSING. Gabriella makes a gesture of apology to Jason. DINA (V.O.) Gabriella? Are you down there? GABRIELLA Yes, Mrs. Reese. DINA (V.0.) The baby needs you. And bring a pacifier for Frank. GABRIELLA Right there. She slides off the stool. JASON You should come out with me sometime. She smiles without answering and goes topside. His eyes follow her. A Deckhand comes down the ladder with the remaining case of wine for him to stock. 31 EXT. BOAT - DAY 31 Gabriella. lifts the fussy baby from Dina, her hands sure and calming. She coos nonsense to his little ear as she- reaches for the diaper bag and slings it over her arm. GABRIELLA He.'s ready for his nap. (CONTINUED) 23. 31 31 CONTINUED: Frank and the agent return from another section of the boat. FRANK You doing up to the house, Gabriella? (off her nod) Want to take this with you? He sweeps the policies into a large manila envelope, drops the 'pouch in with them, ties the string, hands it to her. FRANK Put it on my desk. He looks at his wife with her glass, Alex with his glass, and doesn't like it. His voice hardens slightly. FRANK Are we all set, Alex? ALEX I'm going to check the storage room, see what else'll travel. I know I put some vintage Armagnac in there, maybe some Porto? He heads down the gangplank. FRANK He's a vendor, Dina. It's like drinking with the help. DINA (DISARMING HIM) Did you pick the wine, sweetie? It's lovely. Frank grins, pleased. His hand curves around her shoulder. He has forgotten about the other vendor present, the agent. AGENT (AWKWARDLY) So I'll messenger over the rider for your signature -- Frank laughs out loud, in a better mood: FRANK -- You still here? Dina laughs, too. 24. 32 32 INT. VILLA, UPSTAIRS - DAY Gabriella settles the baby on his side, the only Reese she likes. She starts to close the shutters. Lullaby MUSIC is playing on the baby's TAPE DECK. IN THE HALLWAY She closes the nursery door as softly as possible. A man's hands go around her throat. Her gasp dies stillborn. It's Alex, kissing her.ear, holding Dina's diamond necklace to her neck. ALEX (MURMURING) Did he ever come on to you? GABRIELLA (ANGRY) Don't sneak up on me that way! ALEX Look how beautiful you are. He's an idiot if he didn't. Now she sees the necklace. GABRIELLA What are you doing? She snatches the necklace away from him and fairly runs down the hall to Frank's study. IN THE STUDY She tries td stuff it in the pouch. Alex is right behind her. GABRIELLA You're going to get me fired and deported. ALEX Just put it on for a minute. Look at yourself. She slaps at his hands half-heartedly, but it's so tempting. ALEX See what you deserve. GABRIELLA (SUCCUMBING) We're both crazy. (CONTINUED) 25. 32 32 CONTINUED: Alex moves her hair away. She lets him hook the necklace around her neck. He reaches over to open the closet door, fitted out now as a file cabinet, but with the original closet mirror still in place. The safe is visible. Gabriella stares at her reflection, Alex behind her, watching her. The necklace changes her posture. She angles her chin slightly, twists back her hair. Diamonds suit her. GABRIELLA (TITILLATED) It's vulgar. ALEX into her ear) Not against your skin. He starts to pleat her T-shirt loose from her jeans. She doesn't resist. They watch each other

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Blood and Wine Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS BLOOD AND WINE Written by Nick Villiers SECOND DRAFT DECEMBER 12, 1994 FADE IN: A PAIR OF HANDS men's hands, nicely groomed, hold a small white terry towel spoiled by blood-red spots. The hands rinse the towel in a copper bar sink. The stains soften but stay. A tan jacket sleeve, spotted the same way, moves INTO FRAM. The hands dab the wet towel at the spots, with no more success, and throw it into the sink. It falls half in, still dripping the stains a drop at a time to the floor. ALL IN CLOSEUP The owner of the hands walks to a wine rack, opens a bottle of white wine, drizzles the wine on the jacket sleeve. The stains disappear. He hangs his jacket on a hook and walks from THE CELLAR and up the narrow stairs. His FOOTFALLS ECHO against the unadorned cement block walls. We see his shape, mid- forties, powerful, his shirt pulled out. He's carrying the open bottle by the neck. 2 INT. WINE STORE - NIGHT Still seen from behind, the man emerges from the cellar into a contrastingly elegant space with a wood-beamed. ceiling, vaguely European. He walks along a narrow aisle of wooden diamond bins. As the space widens his foot hits something in his path. He bends to find a shoe. He glances about nervously. There are shutters on the storefront windows. Shoe in hand, he tightens the shutters. We see his profile, a good-looking man. He walks toward a brighter room at the back of the store, the Tasting Room. Now he retrieves a pair of women's trousers from the floor, and as he straightens up we see his entire face, genial, venial, redeemed by his smile. ALEX GATES. He speaks nonchalantly toward the room. ALEX Twenty people tonight. I got a South Beach widow, a plastic surgeon -- they actually came together. (A BEAT) These people -- all they really want is something to brag about at dinner parties. He swigs from the bottle of white wine, grimaces, detours behind the counter, and spits the mouthful into the plastic lined wastebasket. He throws the bottle away. (CONTINUED) 2. 2 2 CONTINUED: There's a basket of baguettes on the counter. Alex breaks off an end and chews it to rid his mouth of the taste of the wine. Still chewing, he walks toward the tasting room. ALEX There I was, passing the wine, passing the bread, I suddenly felt like the priest at Masst Or maybe Mass started out as a wine tasting, and Jesus was a salesman. what do you think? He goes into THE TASTING ROOM It seems empty except for a large wooden table, folding chairs in disarray, open bottles clustered at one end of the table. A chalkboard on the wall has CHATEAU BEYCHEVELLE written across it at the top, vintages listed underneath. The woman's voice that replies is Gabriella's. GABRIELLA (0.S.) (with a throaty laugh) Maybe I should get dressed. Leaning against the corner is a woman wearing only her panties and a shirt. In her mid-twenties she has striking South American looks. GABRIELLA VASQUEZ. She's sipping red wine from a plastic glass. GABRIETM I don't want to spoil a religious experience. ALEX -- Ever heard of Georges Duboeuf? He throws away some of the glasses. ALEX Duboeuf has a nose and a palate -- like a gift from God. He can taste a single grape before the harvest... and describe the beaujolais it's going to produce. She laughs. GABRIELLA Oh, you have competition. (CONTINUED) 3. 2 2 CONTINUED: (2) ALEX (SLIGHTLY ANNOYED) You know how many bottles I have in this store? Open any one of 'em, I'll tell you the vintage and vintner, b lindfolded. He bends down to pick up the chunks of baguette strewn on the floor. He doesn't see her slip off her panties. She walks behind him, twirling them into a tight band. She whips them over his eyes. He laughs. GABRIELLA Okay. Show me. ALEX Victoria's Secret 95. She passes her glass under his nose. ALEX Gabriella, I picked these wines. GABRIELLA So what is it? ALEX All I can smell is your perfume. She laughs. GABRIELLA I'm not wearing any. ALEX I even bought it for you. She opens her shirt. She's not wearing a bra. She lowers her breast to the glass and then to his mouth. GABRIELLA Tell me now. He kisses her wet breast. ALEX (WITHOUT HESITATION) Beychevelle '83. Lot of body. Very aggressive. He pulls off the panty blindfold, kisses her on the mouth softly, then fully. (CONTINUED) 4. 2 2 CONTINUED: (3) GABRIELLA (LOW) -- I lo e y u, Alex. V O 3 3 INT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT (LATER) Alex is unlocking the door for Gabriella. Dressed, she looks younger. They're awkward with each other. GABRIELLA Don't think you have to say it because .1 say it, Alex. (SMILING BRIGHTLY) Doesn't mean anything.. ALEX It means something to me. GABRIELLA (EASED) We're good together, aren't we. Alex lets out a breath. ALEX Oh, yeah... We're pretty good. He kisses her goodbye, unlocks the door. She goes out to her Honda Civic. Alex doesn't wait to see her drive off before he heads back to finish cleaning up the tasting room. 4 4 INT. TASTING ROOM - NIGHT Alex straightens the last chair and starts to extract air from the open bottles. He hears a quiet CLANK of METAL. Instantly alert, he reaches for his jacket and turns off the-light. 5 5 INT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT Behind the cash register Alex opens a drawer and takes out a revolver. ze thumbs the safety off. The NOISES RECUR, like someone trying to break in through the back door from the parking lot. Alex slings his jacket casually over the gun. 5. 6 6 EXT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT Alex throws open the back door; he's counting on the element of surprise. HIS POV His red Cadillac convertible is idling nose.to the chain locked across the parking lot. A MAN in his twenties, whose tropical shirt fairly glows under the security lights, is using a pair of bolt cutters on the chain. ALEX (ADVANCING) You think you're gonna steal my car, asshole? The younger man whirls around. YOUNG MAN You scared me, man. A middle-aged man, a REPO MAN, calls out lazily from behind the wheel. REPO MAN This is not your car, sir. This car belongs to the Star Leasing Company. Alex buries the gun in the rear of his waistband as though he's rubbing his stiff back and cranks his smile to a higher wattage than the security lights. REPO MAN I can collect either the money or the car. Given how much you owe, I figure it's the car. The younger man has almost hacked through the chain. ALEX Pop the. trunk. REPO MAN We inventory the property at the yard. He keeps his eye on the chain, ready to gun the engine as soon as the exit is clear. ALEX I just want to show you something. Worked by the combination of natural curiosity and Alex's charm; the repo man pops the trunk and gets out of the still-running car. (CONTINUED) 6. 6 6 CONTINUED: In his hand he has the locking "Club" Alex usually uses to secure his. steering wheel. He's not stupid. Amused, Alex takes a step back, palms up. YOUNG MAN What are you doing? The repo man ignores him and looks in the trunk. ALEX Do you drink? REPO MAN Not on the job. What is this, booze? ALEX Two cases of single malt whiskey aged in the barrel before he was born. REPO MAN The Caddy's overdue. ALEX So are you. Drink it with the kid. Teach him what smooth is. Enjoy yourselves. Isn't that worth a few days' breather... (A BEAT) My accountant's a fuck-up. So am I, maybe, for not firing him. The bolt cutters clip through. The chain falls. YOUNG MAN We're clear. 7 7 INT. CADILLAC - NIGHT Alex is driving fast, top down, Samba MUSIC loud on the STEREO. He keeps time on the wheel as the Miami skyline cruises by. EXT. CADILLAC - NIGHT Alex turns into the garage of an expensive condominium building before the gate has slid all the way open. The TIRES SQUEAL as he powers the car around the corner. (CONTINUED) 7. 8 8 CONTINUED: A DUCATI MOTORCYCLE hogs his space. Alex lays the car in tightly. He has to squeeze out the door. He bumps the Ducati. It starts to topple; he grabs it before it goes over. 9 9 INT. CONDO - NIGHT Alex lets himself in. The entry ALARM starts to BEEP. He turns it off and resets it. The light has been left on in the kitchen. 10 10 INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT JASON, a handsome, troubled 17-year-old with long, dark hair, is filing barbs off a pile of fishing hooks on the center island. He looks harder and wiser than his years. Tackle is strewn everywhere. Some spaghetti remains in the pot it was cooked in and Jason's knife is standing upright in it. Alex walks into the kitchen. He makes an effort to be pleasant, although he's irritated by the mess, by the motorcycle. ALEX It's late, Jason. JASON I'm going out tonight. Alex exhales. ALEX You can't'fish all night and work all day. JASON Working for you doesn't exactly tax my mind. ALEX No wonder you drop bottles. JASON Fire me. ALEX Do you do it on purpose? JASON Fishing bought me my bike. (CONTINUED) 8. 10 10 CONTINUED: ALEX I almost knocked it over trying to get out of the car. JASON (SARCASTIC) I wasn't sure you were coming home. SEVERS The TOASTER OVEN DINGS. Jason takes out a muffin, it in two with his fishing knife. ALEX Use a regular knife. JASON This has a better edge. Feel it (pointing it at Alex, BLADE FLAT) -- feel it. Their voices are rising. ALEX Pointed, it's a fucking weapon. Put it away. JASON Hell with you. Jason exits to the stairs. ALEX And keep your voice down. Your mother's asleep. STAIRS JASON If you got home on time once in a while, maybe she could skip the chemical help. Alex is also on the stairs. ALEX You have no idea, none, zip, what goes on in a marriage. JASON Yeah, well, I'm learning more than I want to. (CONTINUED)' 9. 10 10 CONTINUED: (2) LANDING UPSTAIRS SUZANNE (O .S=.. ) Now what are you arguing about? SUZANNE is a pretty young woman in her late thirties with a sense of humor and irony. She's chemically relaxed, but not stupefied. She pulls a robe around herself, modest in front of her son; and although her body's not spectacular, like Gabriella's, she has a trim. athletic build. JASON It's not an argument. ALEX I asked him to clean up downstairs. SUZANNE (SOOTHING ALEX) Maybe he hadn't finished- ALEX A modicum of cooperation, you know? JASON A modicum. What's that. Modicum my ass. He pushes past his mother toward his own room. Suzanne follows him down the hallway, leaving. Alex behind. SUZANNE I don't like that tone from: you. JASON Then go to bed. ALEX Hey! JASON (RIGHT BACK) What! SUZANNE It's too late for this. ALEX Jason has gone into his room. He slams the door. CHOOSES enters his bedroom. Suzanne, alone for a-moment, to enter Jason's room. 10. 11 11 INT. JASON'S ROOM SUZANNE He's my husband. JASON (SOFTLY) I know, Mom. SUZANNE -- I still love him. JASON Whatever. She walks out. 12 12 INT. BATHROOM - NIGHT Alex stands under water as hot as he can stand, parboiling himself. Eyes squeezed shut, he lets out a long breath. His life demands more energy than he has anymore. He soaps himself thoroughly. 13 13 INT. MASTER BEDROOM - NIGHT Suzanne hears the front DOOR SLAM. Jason's DUCATI STARTS UP and ACCELERATES away. Alex comes out of the bathroom in a towel. SUZANNE (FONDLY) Lie down, I'll give you a back rub. She stumbles slightly against the bed, catches a bed post for balance, flops back on the bed with a laugh. SUZANNE -- maybe I'd better lie down. He bends down to kiss her, then heads for the television. Suzanne props herself up on her elbows. He pops a cassette into the VCR: porno, she assumes. She does her best. SUZANNE I liked the twin nurses. There was kind of a story. Alex brings the remote control back to bed. ALEX You'll like this one better. (CONTINUED) 11. 13 13 CONTINUED: He hangs his towel on a doorknob, slides into bed, starts the tape, which begins with sweat-slick dancing girls at Carnival. To Suzanne's astonishment, it turns out to be a travelog. SUZANNE Rio? ALEX I've been so busy. We could sneak away for a week.. Would you like that? SUZANNE If we really go. Last time I packed, we went nowhere. ALEX (SLEEPILY) Last time was different. SUZANNE (watching the tape) The beaches -- I thought we had a beach. I read how the hotels keep spotters on the roof with scopes, to keep thieves away from the guests. They can look at every inch of your body through the scope. (with a low laugh) Do you mind that I like that? Alex? He has fallen asleep. Tenderly she draws the sheet to his shoulder and settles down to watch the rest of the tape. DISSOLVE TO: 14 EXT. BOAT - DAWN 14 On the flying bridge of an old fishing boat, Jason eases the throttle to idle speed. The engine quiets down. The SWELLS SLAP harder against the wooden sides. The boat dips and dances to the music of the water. Jason swings down the ladder. He sets up his linis to troll. The starry dome of the sky is starting to brighten around its rim. Jason leans on the transom and stares at the flat, silvery wedge of wake. He breathes out a word. JASON :. Bite... (CONTINUED) 12. 14 14 CONTINUED: Nothing happens. He doesn't move. Then the top of one of the rods shivers slightly, goes still. Jason delicately fingers the rod like a blind man reading Braille, to feel for vibration. A smile pulls at his mouth. He steps behind the rod. The fish hits. JASON (CALLING OUT) Henryl Fish ont The line screams out. Jason's ready. He sets the hook. JASON Time to go to work, man! C'mon. A tall, black drifter appears from-below, still yawning, scratching. HENRY, 33. He wears a red Panama hat that's weathered his head for some time. HENRY Who we got? JASON Let's find out. He hauls back on the rod, the line rises from the ocean, they both recognize the fish at the end. HENRY Fucking sharks. Miami's fished out of the good stuff. Damn. He spits over the side. Jason grins. JASON This one's got more to worry about than you do. He starts to reel in the fish. Henry moves to the wheel.- HENRY Just shoot 'Jaws' in the water. I want to know the sucker's good and dead 'fore he sets a fin in my boat. You got a barb on that hook? . JASON Oh, yeah. Jason braces for the fight. 13. 15 15 EXT. DOCK - MORNING Jason and Henry are cutting the shark with the speed and dexterity of professionals. HENRY The Gulf, man, that's the place. And what makes you think fifty-fifty is right? My boat. My gas. JASON My skill. (slicing off the fins) ... My fins. 16 16 EXT. FISH MARKET - LONG SHOT - MORNING Jason and Henry slap their catch onto the Fishmonger's slippery counter. The market's noisy, men shouting. We see the negotiation from a distance. 17 EXT. DOCK - DAY (MINUTES LATE) 17 Jason and Henry walk through the hubbub. HENRY You cool? JASON I'm cool. HENRY We cool. Jason guns his Ducati. 18 INT. WINE STORE - DAY 18 Alex comes out of his office. ALEX Rob, has Jason shown up? A man's French-accented VOICE answers him from the store. ROBERT (O.S.) Not yet. ALEX You have his paycheck there? ROBERT All ready. (CONTINUED) 14. 18 18 CONTINUED: Alex takes it, and rips it up. 19 19 INT. CHINESE RESTAURANT - DAY The Chinese CHEF in the busy, steamy kitchen is inspecting the shark fins Jason has brought him. Jason is anxious to finish business and go. CHEF You no like my company? Fine. Who cares. Bring me more fin, you retire. You no want to retire? Good. Don't charge starving Chinese so much for these things. JASON You ever caught a shark? CHEF (BIGGER) You ever cook one? JASON Lemme -- lemme show you something. Jason pulls up the sleeve of his denim jacket to display a fresh gash across his arm. JASON He was already gaffed onto the side of the boat, good as dead. Two hours dead! And I was still too close to the mouth. Revenge is the last instinct to go, did you know that? The chef shrugs and shows his thumb, missing a joint. CHEF -- Work's a dangerous thing. (smiling with lots of TEETH) Nice fin, Jason. He tosses the fins in a cauldron of boiling water, slaps the CASH REGISTER on the side. It RINGS. 20 20 EXT. RESTAURANT - DAY Jason jams on his helmet and starts his. motorcycle, guns it down the street. (CONTINUED) 15. 20 20 CONTINUED: MIAMI SKYLINE Jason weaves through traffic, expert enough to take chances that goose the adrenalin. 21 21 EXT. WINE SHOP - DAY Robert and Alex are loading cases of wine into the trunk of the Caddy when Jason skids into the parking lot. He takes off his helmet. ALEX Just get in the car. 22 22 INT. CADILLAC - DAY (TRAVELING) Jason has fallen asleep while Alex drives. Alex picks up Jason's hand. Jerking awake, Jason tries to pull away, but his reflexes are sleep-slowed. Alex sniffs Jason's fingers, wrinkles his nose, lets Jason have his hand back. ALEX You stink. JASON I washed. ALEX There's Wash IN Dries in the glove compartment. Jason opens the compartment, finds the packets, opens one, rubs his hands. ALEX ... I'm trying here, Jason -- I really am. When you didn't want to go to college, I took your side, I said fine -- I mean, I -didn't finish college, and I've done all right. I gave you a job', a steady check, which is more than anybody else has done. And what do I get back? Shit. I've tried to teach you the business -- the care, the finesse... Jason laughs dismissively. (CONTINUED) 16. 22 22 CONTINUED: ALEX Well, look at it this way, Jason, someday you'll have your boat and I'll have my vineyard, and the best part '11 be they're nowhere near each other. JASON (SATISFIED) I'll send you a Christmas card. ALEX Save the stamp. They turn into the driveway to an expensive development. 23 23 EXT. SECURITY BOOTH, CORAL GABLES - DAY The Cadillac rolls to a stop at the ate. A tough, but amicable-looking armed guard in his forties, MIKE, opens the window of the air-conditioned booth. His RADIO is tuned to the FOOTBALL GAME. ALEX Hi, mike -- what's the score? MIKE (CHECKING THE APPOINTMENT BOARD) Dolphins down by nine, minute forty to go. It's over. ALEX Don't underestimate Marino. Mike ticks off the appointment, raises the gate. MIKE I told you, they don't have it this year. With a wave of acknowledgment for Mike, Alex.. drives onto the grounds. ALEX (YELLING BACK) Judas! Grinning, Mike routinely writes down the license plate number. 17. 24 24 EXT. CADILLAC - DAY Alex cruises past a collection of oversized villas, and turns into the driveway of the gaudiest. He and Jason climb out of the car. Alex opens the trunk. He loads two wine cases into Jason's arms, takes the third himself. They haven't said a word to each other. 25 25 EXT. VILLA - DAY Alex rings the intercom with his elbow. Gabriella's VOICE CRACKLES in response. GABRIELLA (V.O.) on the intercom) Who is it? ALEX Wine delivery. The INTERCOM CLICKS off. They hear FOOTSTEPS approaching. The door opens. Jason's eyes focus. He's hooked. Gabriella is smiling at Alex. She has her arms full of clean burp cloths. GABRIELLA Oh, the boss himself! ALEX (with a modest chuckle) How are you? She glances politely toward Jason, not at all expecting what she sees. A circuit connects between them. ALEX Gabriella takes care of Baby Reese. (TO GABRIELLA) This is my stepson, Jason. GABRIELLA (VERY CORRECT) How do you do. JASON Hi. GABRIELLA Is the wine for the boat? Come through the house. 18. 26 26 INT./EXT. VILLA - DAY They follow her inside. Jason takes in the richness of the place, but is more focussed on Gabriella. They exit TO T he lawn which leads to a dock. 27 27 EXT. REESES' BOAT DAY A sleek, ocean-going yacht is tied up at the dock, the crew unobtrusively at work. FRANK REESE, a powerful, confidant man in his mid-sixties, is sitting with his INSURANCE AGENT at a table on deck where policies are spread out next to a jewelry box. Reese's expensive 35- year-old wife DINA has turned her chair to sun her legs while she plays with the BABY. DINA -- what's the point of having it, if I can't wear it, Frank? AGENT (DEFERENTIALLY) You can wear it anywhere you like, Mrs. Reese -- except out of the country. Gabriella leads Alex and Jason aboard. Frank likes Alex and is glad to see him. Alex can't help glancing at Dina's long legs.. She smiles. FRANK Alex, should we insure the wine while we're at it? His arms tired,'Alex is happy to set down the case. ALEX Aren't you covered on your home policy? GABRIELLA (TO JASON) I'll show you, come on. AGENT How much wine are we talking about? Jason follows Gabriella down below, the VOICES on the deck fading. DINA (O.S.) Why bother insuring it? Let's drink it instead. 19. 28 28 INT. BOAT - DAY It's quiet inside, not tasteful but impressive, like everything else of the Reeses. Jason takes a stab at conversation. JASON Big boat. Gabriella laughs and looks over her shoulder at him. They're both kids. GABRIELLA ugly, isn't it. He grins and relaxes, looks around. JASON The fittings are definitely -- yeah on the ugly side. But damn, she's solid. GABRIELLA Oh, a boat type. JASON (proud, defensive) I like.boats. Gabriella shows him the climatized, built-in wine closet next to the galley. He starts to rack the bottles while she watches. He talks to stop her from leaving. JASON So where you headed? GABRIELLA I'm not going, 'I can't go. JASON They don't want to take the baby. GABRIELLA I don't have a green card, I can't leave the country. Baby goes with an American nurse. I house-sit. It's fine. JASON You don't like them. Gabriella laughs. (CONTINUED) 20. 28 28 CONTINUED: GABRIELLA God. I'm obvious. I just don't like working for people, but that's life. He chafes under authority the same way she does. JASON Doesn't have to be. GABRIELLA Maybe not with a rich stepfather. He laughs. JASON Worst kind. GABRIELLA (CORRECTIVELY) No. (A BEAT) You don't appreciate what you have, Jason. It's very poor where I came from. JASON Where's that? GABRIELLA Venezuela. Do I look it? JASON I don't know, I never been there. GABRIELLA Well, I don't. My mother's Indian. The India kind of Indian. (LAUGHS) Imagine a house where the father asks 'What's for dinner' in Spanish, and the mother answers 'Curry' in Hindi. 'Que hay para cenar' she says, 'Murgee, masala, ghaal.' He says, 'No es importante.' No wonder I'm nuts. JASON You don't seem too nuts. She laughs. GABRIELLA You don't know mel (OOR1TINUED ) 21. 28 CONTINUED: .( 2) 28 They're suddenly both very aware that they're alone together. 29 29 EXT. BOAT, THE DECK - DAY The agent is putting a magnificent diamond necklace in a velvet pouch that he fastidiously cinches and ties. Alex looks away from it to take a bottle out of the remaining case on deck. AGENT -- so back to the safe it goes -- Dina lifts up the baby and smells its bottom. FRANK Dina, that's disgusting. DINA The alternative is using your fingers, Frank. which offends you more? Alex laughs. Frank pushes back his chair. FRANK Don't encourage her, Alex. Her mouth is big enough. Dina is hurt. FRANK (to the agent) I'll show you that painting in our stateroom. The agent follows him away. ALEX (kindly; to Dina) Do you want to see the label? She hides her hurt by not looking at him. DINA Just open the bottle, Alex. Pour us both a glass. I'm not allowed to drink alone. When she turns her head and looks at him, she's flirting. 22. 30 30 INT. BOAT - DAY Jason has almost finished storing the wine. Gabriella is sitting on a bar stool at the galley,. listening to him, snared by the quiet passion in his voice. JASON -- when you're skimming along the water, nothing between you and the bottom of the sea but a layer of wood, your thoughts... end. All that noise inside your head? Gabriella nods, understanding exactly. JASON . . . Stops. Dina's VOICE booms over the INTERCOM, startling both of them. The BABY is FUSSING. Gabriella makes a gesture of apology to Jason. DINA (V.O.) Gabriella? Are you down there? GABRIELLA Yes, Mrs. Reese. DINA (V.0.) The baby needs you. And bring a pacifier for Frank. GABRIELLA Right there. She slides off the stool. JASON You should come out with me sometime. She smiles without answering and goes topside. His eyes follow her. A Deckhand comes down the ladder with the remaining case of wine for him to stock. 31 EXT. BOAT - DAY 31 Gabriella. lifts the fussy baby from Dina, her hands sure and calming. She coos nonsense to his little ear as she- reaches for the diaper bag and slings it over her arm. GABRIELLA He.'s ready for his nap. (CONTINUED) 23. 31 31 CONTINUED: Frank and the agent return from another section of the boat. FRANK You doing up to the house, Gabriella? (off her nod) Want to take this with you? He sweeps the policies into a large manila envelope, drops the 'pouch in with them, ties the string, hands it to her. FRANK Put it on my desk. He looks at his wife with her glass, Alex with his glass, and doesn't like it. His voice hardens slightly. FRANK Are we all set, Alex? ALEX I'm going to check the storage room, see what else'll travel. I know I put some vintage Armagnac in there, maybe some Porto? He heads down the gangplank. FRANK He's a vendor, Dina. It's like drinking with the help. DINA (DISARMING HIM) Did you pick the wine, sweetie? It's lovely. Frank grins, pleased. His hand curves around her shoulder. He has forgotten about the other vendor present, the agent. AGENT (AWKWARDLY) So I'll messenger over the rider for your signature -- Frank laughs out loud, in a better mood: FRANK -- You still here? Dina laughs, too. 24. 32 32 INT. VILLA, UPSTAIRS - DAY Gabriella settles the baby on his side, the only Reese she likes. She starts to close the shutters. Lullaby MUSIC is playing on the baby's TAPE DECK. IN THE HALLWAY She closes the nursery door as softly as possible. A man's hands go around her throat. Her gasp dies stillborn. It's Alex, kissing her.ear, holding Dina's diamond necklace to her neck. ALEX (MURMURING) Did he ever come on to you? GABRIELLA (ANGRY) Don't sneak up on me that way! ALEX Look how beautiful you are. He's an idiot if he didn't. Now she sees the necklace. GABRIELLA What are you doing? She snatches the necklace away from him and fairly runs down the hall to Frank's study. IN THE STUDY She tries td stuff it in the pouch. Alex is right behind her. GABRIELLA You're going to get me fired and deported. ALEX Just put it on for a minute. Look at yourself. She slaps at his hands half-heartedly, but it's so tempting. ALEX See what you deserve. GABRIELLA (SUCCUMBING) We're both crazy. (CONTINUED) 25. 32 32 CONTINUED: Alex moves her hair away. She lets him hook the necklace around her neck. He reaches over to open the closet door, fitted out now as a file cabinet, but with the original closet mirror still in place. The safe is visible. Gabriella stares at her reflection, Alex behind her, watching her. The necklace changes her posture. She angles her chin slightly, twists back her hair. Diamonds suit her. GABRIELLA (TITILLATED) It's vulgar. ALEX into her ear) Not against your skin. He starts to pleat her T-shirt loose from her jeans. She doesn't resist. They watch each other

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Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS BLOOD AND WINE Written by Nick Villiers SECOND DRAFT DECEMBER 12, 1994 FADE IN: A PAIR OF HANDS men's hands, nicely groomed, hold a small white terry towel spoiled by blood-red spots. The hands rinse the towel in a copper bar sink. The stains soften but stay. A tan jacket sleeve, spotted the same way, moves INTO FRAM. The hands dab the wet towel at the spots, with no more success, and throw it into the sink. It falls half in, still dripping the stains a drop at a time to the floor. ALL IN CLOSEUP The owner of the hands walks to a wine rack, opens a bottle of white wine, drizzles the wine on the jacket sleeve. The stains disappear. He hangs his jacket on a hook and walks from THE CELLAR and up the narrow stairs. His FOOTFALLS ECHO against the unadorned cement block walls. We see his shape, mid- forties, powerful, his shirt pulled out. He's carrying the open bottle by the neck. 2 INT. WINE STORE - NIGHT Still seen from behind, the man emerges from the cellar into a contrastingly elegant space with a wood-beamed. ceiling, vaguely European. He walks along a narrow aisle of wooden diamond bins. As the space widens his foot hits something in his path. He bends to find a shoe. He glances about nervously. There are shutters on the storefront windows. Shoe in hand, he tightens the shutters. We see his profile, a good-looking man. He walks toward a brighter room at the back of the store, the Tasting Room. Now he retrieves a pair of women's trousers from the floor, and as he straightens up we see his entire face, genial, venial, redeemed by his smile. ALEX GATES. He speaks nonchalantly toward the room. ALEX Twenty people tonight. I got a South Beach widow, a plastic surgeon -- they actually came together. (A BEAT) These people -- all they really want is something to brag about at dinner parties. He swigs from the bottle of white wine, grimaces, detours behind the counter, and spits the mouthful into the plastic lined wastebasket. He throws the bottle away. (CONTINUED) 2. 2 2 CONTINUED: There's a basket of baguettes on the counter. Alex breaks off an end and chews it to rid his mouth of the taste of the wine. Still chewing, he walks toward the tasting room. ALEX There I was, passing the wine, passing the bread, I suddenly felt like the priest at Masst Or maybe Mass started out as a wine tasting, and Jesus was a salesman. what do you think? He goes into THE TASTING ROOM It seems empty except for a large wooden table, folding chairs in disarray, open bottles clustered at one end of the table. A chalkboard on the wall has CHATEAU BEYCHEVELLE written across it at the top, vintages listed underneath. The woman's voice that replies is Gabriella's. GABRIELLA (0.S.) (with a throaty laugh) Maybe I should get dressed. Leaning against the corner is a woman wearing only her panties and a shirt. In her mid-twenties she has striking South American looks. GABRIELLA VASQUEZ. She's sipping red wine from a plastic glass. GABRIETM I don't want to spoil a religious experience. ALEX -- Ever heard of Georges Duboeuf? He throws away some of the glasses. ALEX Duboeuf has a nose and a palate -- like a gift from God. He can taste a single grape before the harvest... and describe the beaujolais it's going to produce. She laughs. GABRIELLA Oh, you have competition. (CONTINUED) 3. 2 2 CONTINUED: (2) ALEX (SLIGHTLY ANNOYED) You know how many bottles I have in this store? Open any one of 'em, I'll tell you the vintage and vintner, b lindfolded. He bends down to pick up the chunks of baguette strewn on the floor. He doesn't see her slip off her panties. She walks behind him, twirling them into a tight band. She whips them over his eyes. He laughs. GABRIELLA Okay. Show me. ALEX Victoria's Secret 95. She passes her glass under his nose. ALEX Gabriella, I picked these wines. GABRIELLA So what is it? ALEX All I can smell is your perfume. She laughs. GABRIELLA I'm not wearing any. ALEX I even bought it for you. She opens her shirt. She's not wearing a bra. She lowers her breast to the glass and then to his mouth. GABRIELLA Tell me now. He kisses her wet breast. ALEX (WITHOUT HESITATION) Beychevelle '83. Lot of body. Very aggressive. He pulls off the panty blindfold, kisses her on the mouth softly, then fully. (CONTINUED) 4. 2 2 CONTINUED: (3) GABRIELLA (LOW) -- I lo e y u, Alex. V O 3 3 INT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT (LATER) Alex is unlocking the door for Gabriella. Dressed, she looks younger. They're awkward with each other. GABRIELLA Don't think you have to say it because .1 say it, Alex. (SMILING BRIGHTLY) Doesn't mean anything.. ALEX It means something to me. GABRIELLA (EASED) We're good together, aren't we. Alex lets out a breath. ALEX Oh, yeah... We're pretty good. He kisses her goodbye, unlocks the door. She goes out to her Honda Civic. Alex doesn't wait to see her drive off before he heads back to finish cleaning up the tasting room. 4 4 INT. TASTING ROOM - NIGHT Alex straightens the last chair and starts to extract air from the open bottles. He hears a quiet CLANK of METAL. Instantly alert, he reaches for his jacket and turns off the-light. 5 5 INT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT Behind the cash register Alex opens a drawer and takes out a revolver. ze thumbs the safety off. The NOISES RECUR, like someone trying to break in through the back door from the parking lot. Alex slings his jacket casually over the gun. 5. 6 6 EXT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT Alex throws open the back door; he's counting on the element of surprise. HIS POV His red Cadillac convertible is idling nose.to the chain locked across the parking lot. A MAN in his twenties, whose tropical shirt fairly glows under the security lights, is using a pair of bolt cutters on the chain. ALEX (ADVANCING) You think you're gonna steal my car, asshole? The younger man whirls around. YOUNG MAN You scared me, man. A middle-aged man, a REPO MAN, calls out lazily from behind the wheel. REPO MAN This is not your car, sir. This car belongs to the Star Leasing Company. Alex buries the gun in the rear of his waistband as though he's rubbing his stiff back and cranks his smile to a higher wattage than the security lights. REPO MAN I can collect either the money or the car. Given how much you owe, I figure it's the car. The younger man has almost hacked through the chain. ALEX Pop the. trunk. REPO MAN We inventory the property at the yard. He keeps his eye on the chain, ready to gun the engine as soon as the exit is clear. ALEX I just want to show you something. Worked by the combination of natural curiosity and Alex's charm; the repo man pops the trunk and gets out of the still-running car. (CONTINUED) 6. 6 6 CONTINUED: In his hand he has the locking "Club" Alex usually uses to secure his. steering wheel. He's not stupid. Amused, Alex takes a step back, palms up. YOUNG MAN What are you doing? The repo man ignores him and looks in the trunk. ALEX Do you drink? REPO MAN Not on the job. What is this, booze? ALEX Two cases of single malt whiskey aged in the barrel before he was born. REPO MAN The Caddy's overdue. ALEX So are you. Drink it with the kid. Teach him what smooth is. Enjoy yourselves. Isn't that worth a few days' breather... (A BEAT) My accountant's a fuck-up. So am I, maybe, for not firing him. The bolt cutters clip through. The chain falls. YOUNG MAN We're clear. 7 7 INT. CADILLAC - NIGHT Alex is driving fast, top down, Samba MUSIC loud on the STEREO. He keeps time on the wheel as the Miami skyline cruises by. EXT. CADILLAC - NIGHT Alex turns into the garage of an expensive condominium building before the gate has slid all the way open. The TIRES SQUEAL as he powers the car around the corner. (CONTINUED) 7. 8 8 CONTINUED: A DUCATI MOTORCYCLE hogs his space. Alex lays the car in tightly. He has to squeeze out the door. He bumps the Ducati. It starts to topple; he grabs it before it goes over. 9 9 INT. CONDO - NIGHT Alex lets himself in. The entry ALARM starts to BEEP. He turns it off and resets it. The light has been left on in the kitchen. 10 10 INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT JASON, a handsome, troubled 17-year-old with long, dark hair, is filing barbs off a pile of fishing hooks on the center island. He looks harder and wiser than his years. Tackle is strewn everywhere. Some spaghetti remains in the pot it was cooked in and Jason's knife is standing upright in it. Alex walks into the kitchen. He makes an effort to be pleasant, although he's irritated by the mess, by the motorcycle. ALEX It's late, Jason. JASON I'm going out tonight. Alex exhales. ALEX You can't'fish all night and work all day. JASON Working for you doesn't exactly tax my mind. ALEX No wonder you drop bottles. JASON Fire me. ALEX Do you do it on purpose? JASON Fishing bought me my bike. (CONTINUED) 8. 10 10 CONTINUED: ALEX I almost knocked it over trying to get out of the car. JASON (SARCASTIC) I wasn't sure you were coming home. SEVERS The TOASTER OVEN DINGS. Jason takes out a muffin, it in two with his fishing knife. ALEX Use a regular knife. JASON This has a better edge. Feel it (pointing it at Alex, BLADE FLAT) -- feel it. Their voices are rising. ALEX Pointed, it's a fucking weapon. Put it away. JASON Hell with you. Jason exits to the stairs. ALEX And keep your voice down. Your mother's asleep. STAIRS JASON If you got home on time once in a while, maybe she could skip the chemical help. Alex is also on the stairs. ALEX You have no idea, none, zip, what goes on in a marriage. JASON Yeah, well, I'm learning more than I want to. (CONTINUED)' 9. 10 10 CONTINUED: (2) LANDING UPSTAIRS SUZANNE (O .S=.. ) Now what are you arguing about? SUZANNE is a pretty young woman in her late thirties with a sense of humor and irony. She's chemically relaxed, but not stupefied. She pulls a robe around herself, modest in front of her son; and although her body's not spectacular, like Gabriella's, she has a trim. athletic build. JASON It's not an argument. ALEX I asked him to clean up downstairs. SUZANNE (SOOTHING ALEX) Maybe he hadn't finished- ALEX A modicum of cooperation, you know? JASON A modicum. What's that. Modicum my ass. He pushes past his mother toward his own room. Suzanne follows him down the hallway, leaving. Alex behind. SUZANNE I don't like that tone from: you. JASON Then go to bed. ALEX Hey! JASON (RIGHT BACK) What! SUZANNE It's too late for this. ALEX Jason has gone into his room. He slams the door. CHOOSES enters his bedroom. Suzanne, alone for a-moment, to enter Jason's room. 10. 11 11 INT. JASON'S ROOM SUZANNE He's my husband. JASON (SOFTLY) I know, Mom. SUZANNE -- I still love him. JASON Whatever. She walks out. 12 12 INT. BATHROOM - NIGHT Alex stands under water as hot as he can stand, parboiling himself. Eyes squeezed shut, he lets out a long breath. His life demands more energy than he has anymore. He soaps himself thoroughly. 13 13 INT. MASTER BEDROOM - NIGHT Suzanne hears the front DOOR SLAM. Jason's DUCATI STARTS UP and ACCELERATES away. Alex comes out of the bathroom in a towel. SUZANNE (FONDLY) Lie down, I'll give you a back rub. She stumbles slightly against the bed, catches a bed post for balance, flops back on the bed with a laugh. SUZANNE -- maybe I'd better lie down. He bends down to kiss her, then heads for the television. Suzanne props herself up on her elbows. He pops a cassette into the VCR: porno, she assumes. She does her best. SUZANNE I liked the twin nurses. There was kind of a story. Alex brings the remote control back to bed. ALEX You'll like this one better. (CONTINUED) 11. 13 13 CONTINUED: He hangs his towel on a doorknob, slides into bed, starts the tape, which begins with sweat-slick dancing girls at Carnival. To Suzanne's astonishment, it turns out to be a travelog. SUZANNE Rio? ALEX I've been so busy. We could sneak away for a week.. Would you like that? SUZANNE If we really go. Last time I packed, we went nowhere. ALEX (SLEEPILY) Last time was different. SUZANNE (watching the tape) The beaches -- I thought we had a beach. I read how the hotels keep spotters on the roof with scopes, to keep thieves away from the guests. They can look at every inch of your body through the scope. (with a low laugh) Do you mind that I like that? Alex? He has fallen asleep. Tenderly she draws the sheet to his shoulder and settles down to watch the rest of the tape. DISSOLVE TO: 14 EXT. BOAT - DAWN 14 On the flying bridge of an old fishing boat, Jason eases the throttle to idle speed. The engine quiets down. The SWELLS SLAP harder against the wooden sides. The boat dips and dances to the music of the water. Jason swings down the ladder. He sets up his linis to troll. The starry dome of the sky is starting to brighten around its rim. Jason leans on the transom and stares at the flat, silvery wedge of wake. He breathes out a word. JASON :. Bite... (CONTINUED) 12. 14 14 CONTINUED: Nothing happens. He doesn't move. Then the top of one of the rods shivers slightly, goes still. Jason delicately fingers the rod like a blind man reading Braille, to feel for vibration. A smile pulls at his mouth. He steps behind the rod. The fish hits. JASON (CALLING OUT) Henryl Fish ont The line screams out. Jason's ready. He sets the hook. JASON Time to go to work, man! C'mon. A tall, black drifter appears from-below, still yawning, scratching. HENRY, 33. He wears a red Panama hat that's weathered his head for some time. HENRY Who we got? JASON Let's find out. He hauls back on the rod, the line rises from the ocean, they both recognize the fish at the end. HENRY Fucking sharks. Miami's fished out of the good stuff. Damn. He spits over the side. Jason grins. JASON This one's got more to worry about than you do. He starts to reel in the fish. Henry moves to the wheel.- HENRY Just shoot 'Jaws' in the water. I want to know the sucker's good and dead 'fore he sets a fin in my boat. You got a barb on that hook? . JASON Oh, yeah. Jason braces for the fight. 13. 15 15 EXT. DOCK - MORNING Jason and Henry are cutting the shark with the speed and dexterity of professionals. HENRY The Gulf, man, that's the place. And what makes you think fifty-fifty is right? My boat. My gas. JASON My skill. (slicing off the fins) ... My fins. 16 16 EXT. FISH MARKET - LONG SHOT - MORNING Jason and Henry slap their catch onto the Fishmonger's slippery counter. The market's noisy, men shouting. We see the negotiation from a distance. 17 EXT. DOCK - DAY (MINUTES LATE) 17 Jason and Henry walk through the hubbub. HENRY You cool? JASON I'm cool. HENRY We cool. Jason guns his Ducati. 18 INT. WINE STORE - DAY 18 Alex comes out of his office. ALEX Rob, has Jason shown up? A man's French-accented VOICE answers him from the store. ROBERT (O.S.) Not yet. ALEX You have his paycheck there? ROBERT All ready. (CONTINUED) 14. 18 18 CONTINUED: Alex takes it, and rips it up. 19 19 INT. CHINESE RESTAURANT - DAY The Chinese CHEF in the busy, steamy kitchen is inspecting the shark fins Jason has brought him. Jason is anxious to finish business and go. CHEF You no like my company? Fine. Who cares. Bring me more fin, you retire. You no want to retire? Good. Don't charge starving Chinese so much for these things. JASON You ever caught a shark? CHEF (BIGGER) You ever cook one? JASON Lemme -- lemme show you something. Jason pulls up the sleeve of his denim jacket to display a fresh gash across his arm. JASON He was already gaffed onto the side of the boat, good as dead. Two hours dead! And I was still too close to the mouth. Revenge is the last instinct to go, did you know that? The chef shrugs and shows his thumb, missing a joint. CHEF -- Work's a dangerous thing. (smiling with lots of TEETH) Nice fin, Jason. He tosses the fins in a cauldron of boiling water, slaps the CASH REGISTER on the side. It RINGS. 20 20 EXT. RESTAURANT - DAY Jason jams on his helmet and starts his. motorcycle, guns it down the street. (CONTINUED) 15. 20 20 CONTINUED: MIAMI SKYLINE Jason weaves through traffic, expert enough to take chances that goose the adrenalin. 21 21 EXT. WINE SHOP - DAY Robert and Alex are loading cases of wine into the trunk of the Caddy when Jason skids into the parking lot. He takes off his helmet. ALEX Just get in the car. 22 22 INT. CADILLAC - DAY (TRAVELING) Jason has fallen asleep while Alex drives. Alex picks up Jason's hand. Jerking awake, Jason tries to pull away, but his reflexes are sleep-slowed. Alex sniffs Jason's fingers, wrinkles his nose, lets Jason have his hand back. ALEX You stink. JASON I washed. ALEX There's Wash IN Dries in the glove compartment. Jason opens the compartment, finds the packets, opens one, rubs his hands. ALEX ... I'm trying here, Jason -- I really am. When you didn't want to go to college, I took your side, I said fine -- I mean, I -didn't finish college, and I've done all right. I gave you a job', a steady check, which is more than anybody else has done. And what do I get back? Shit. I've tried to teach you the business -- the care, the finesse... Jason laughs dismissively. (CONTINUED) 16. 22 22 CONTINUED: ALEX Well, look at it this way, Jason, someday you'll have your boat and I'll have my vineyard, and the best part '11 be they're nowhere near each other. JASON (SATISFIED) I'll send you a Christmas card. ALEX Save the stamp. They turn into the driveway to an expensive development. 23 23 EXT. SECURITY BOOTH, CORAL GABLES - DAY The Cadillac rolls to a stop at the ate. A tough, but amicable-looking armed guard in his forties, MIKE, opens the window of the air-conditioned booth. His RADIO is tuned to the FOOTBALL GAME. ALEX Hi, mike -- what's the score? MIKE (CHECKING THE APPOINTMENT BOARD) Dolphins down by nine, minute forty to go. It's over. ALEX Don't underestimate Marino. Mike ticks off the appointment, raises the gate. MIKE I told you, they don't have it this year. With a wave of acknowledgment for Mike, Alex.. drives onto the grounds. ALEX (YELLING BACK) Judas! Grinning, Mike routinely writes down the license plate number. 17. 24 24 EXT. CADILLAC - DAY Alex cruises past a collection of oversized villas, and turns into the driveway of the gaudiest. He and Jason climb out of the car. Alex opens the trunk. He loads two wine cases into Jason's arms, takes the third himself. They haven't said a word to each other. 25 25 EXT. VILLA - DAY Alex rings the intercom with his elbow. Gabriella's VOICE CRACKLES in response. GABRIELLA (V.O.) on the intercom) Who is it? ALEX Wine delivery. The INTERCOM CLICKS off. They hear FOOTSTEPS approaching. The door opens. Jason's eyes focus. He's hooked. Gabriella is smiling at Alex. She has her arms full of clean burp cloths. GABRIELLA Oh, the boss himself! ALEX (with a modest chuckle) How are you? She glances politely toward Jason, not at all expecting what she sees. A circuit connects between them. ALEX Gabriella takes care of Baby Reese. (TO GABRIELLA) This is my stepson, Jason. GABRIELLA (VERY CORRECT) How do you do. JASON Hi. GABRIELLA Is the wine for the boat? Come through the house. 18. 26 26 INT./EXT. VILLA - DAY They follow her inside. Jason takes in the richness of the place, but is more focussed on Gabriella. They exit TO T he lawn which leads to a dock. 27 27 EXT. REESES' BOAT DAY A sleek, ocean-going yacht is tied up at the dock, the crew unobtrusively at work. FRANK REESE, a powerful, confidant man in his mid-sixties, is sitting with his INSURANCE AGENT at a table on deck where policies are spread out next to a jewelry box. Reese's expensive 35- year-old wife DINA has turned her chair to sun her legs while she plays with the BABY. DINA -- what's the point of having it, if I can't wear it, Frank? AGENT (DEFERENTIALLY) You can wear it anywhere you like, Mrs. Reese -- except out of the country. Gabriella leads Alex and Jason aboard. Frank likes Alex and is glad to see him. Alex can't help glancing at Dina's long legs.. She smiles. FRANK Alex, should we insure the wine while we're at it? His arms tired,'Alex is happy to set down the case. ALEX Aren't you covered on your home policy? GABRIELLA (TO JASON) I'll show you, come on. AGENT How much wine are we talking about? Jason follows Gabriella down below, the VOICES on the deck fading. DINA (O.S.) Why bother insuring it? Let's drink it instead. 19. 28 28 INT. BOAT - DAY It's quiet inside, not tasteful but impressive, like everything else of the Reeses. Jason takes a stab at conversation. JASON Big boat. Gabriella laughs and looks over her shoulder at him. They're both kids. GABRIELLA ugly, isn't it. He grins and relaxes, looks around. JASON The fittings are definitely -- yeah on the ugly side. But damn, she's solid. GABRIELLA Oh, a boat type. JASON (proud, defensive) I like.boats. Gabriella shows him the climatized, built-in wine closet next to the galley. He starts to rack the bottles while she watches. He talks to stop her from leaving. JASON So where you headed? GABRIELLA I'm not going, 'I can't go. JASON They don't want to take the baby. GABRIELLA I don't have a green card, I can't leave the country. Baby goes with an American nurse. I house-sit. It's fine. JASON You don't like them. Gabriella laughs. (CONTINUED) 20. 28 28 CONTINUED: GABRIELLA God. I'm obvious. I just don't like working for people, but that's life. He chafes under authority the same way she does. JASON Doesn't have to be. GABRIELLA Maybe not with a rich stepfather. He laughs. JASON Worst kind. GABRIELLA (CORRECTIVELY) No. (A BEAT) You don't appreciate what you have, Jason. It's very poor where I came from. JASON Where's that? GABRIELLA Venezuela. Do I look it? JASON I don't know, I never been there. GABRIELLA Well, I don't. My mother's Indian. The India kind of Indian. (LAUGHS) Imagine a house where the father asks 'What's for dinner' in Spanish, and the mother answers 'Curry' in Hindi. 'Que hay para cenar' she says, 'Murgee, masala, ghaal.' He says, 'No es importante.' No wonder I'm nuts. JASON You don't seem too nuts. She laughs. GABRIELLA You don't know mel (OOR1TINUED ) 21. 28 CONTINUED: .( 2) 28 They're suddenly both very aware that they're alone together. 29 29 EXT. BOAT, THE DECK - DAY The agent is putting a magnificent diamond necklace in a velvet pouch that he fastidiously cinches and ties. Alex looks away from it to take a bottle out of the remaining case on deck. AGENT -- so back to the safe it goes -- Dina lifts up the baby and smells its bottom. FRANK Dina, that's disgusting. DINA The alternative is using your fingers, Frank. which offends you more? Alex laughs. Frank pushes back his chair. FRANK Don't encourage her, Alex. Her mouth is big enough. Dina is hurt. FRANK (to the agent) I'll show you that painting in our stateroom. The agent follows him away. ALEX (kindly; to Dina) Do you want to see the label? She hides her hurt by not looking at him. DINA Just open the bottle, Alex. Pour us both a glass. I'm not allowed to drink alone. When she turns her head and looks at him, she's flirting. 22. 30 30 INT. BOAT - DAY Jason has almost finished storing the wine. Gabriella is sitting on a bar stool at the galley,. listening to him, snared by the quiet passion in his voice. JASON -- when you're skimming along the water, nothing between you and the bottom of the sea but a layer of wood, your thoughts... end. All that noise inside your head? Gabriella nods, understanding exactly. JASON . . . Stops. Dina's VOICE booms over the INTERCOM, startling both of them. The BABY is FUSSING. Gabriella makes a gesture of apology to Jason. DINA (V.O.) Gabriella? Are you down there? GABRIELLA Yes, Mrs. Reese. DINA (V.0.) The baby needs you. And bring a pacifier for Frank. GABRIELLA Right there. She slides off the stool. JASON You should come out with me sometime. She smiles without answering and goes topside. His eyes follow her. A Deckhand comes down the ladder with the remaining case of wine for him to stock. 31 EXT. BOAT - DAY 31 Gabriella. lifts the fussy baby from Dina, her hands sure and calming. She coos nonsense to his little ear as she- reaches for the diaper bag and slings it over her arm. GABRIELLA He.'s ready for his nap. (CONTINUED) 23. 31 31 CONTINUED: Frank and the agent return from another section of the boat. FRANK You doing up to the house, Gabriella? (off her nod) Want to take this with you? He sweeps the policies into a large manila envelope, drops the 'pouch in with them, ties the string, hands it to her. FRANK Put it on my desk. He looks at his wife with her glass, Alex with his glass, and doesn't like it. His voice hardens slightly. FRANK Are we all set, Alex? ALEX I'm going to check the storage room, see what else'll travel. I know I put some vintage Armagnac in there, maybe some Porto? He heads down the gangplank. FRANK He's a vendor, Dina. It's like drinking with the help. DINA (DISARMING HIM) Did you pick the wine, sweetie? It's lovely. Frank grins, pleased. His hand curves around her shoulder. He has forgotten about the other vendor present, the agent. AGENT (AWKWARDLY) So I'll messenger over the rider for your signature -- Frank laughs out loud, in a better mood: FRANK -- You still here? Dina laughs, too. 24. 32 32 INT. VILLA, UPSTAIRS - DAY Gabriella settles the baby on his side, the only Reese she likes. She starts to close the shutters. Lullaby MUSIC is playing on the baby's TAPE DECK. IN THE HALLWAY She closes the nursery door as softly as possible. A man's hands go around her throat. Her gasp dies stillborn. It's Alex, kissing her.ear, holding Dina's diamond necklace to her neck. ALEX (MURMURING) Did he ever come on to you? GABRIELLA (ANGRY) Don't sneak up on me that way! ALEX Look how beautiful you are. He's an idiot if he didn't. Now she sees the necklace. GABRIELLA What are you doing? She snatches the necklace away from him and fairly runs down the hall to Frank's study. IN THE STUDY She tries td stuff it in the pouch. Alex is right behind her. GABRIELLA You're going to get me fired and deported. ALEX Just put it on for a minute. Look at yourself. She slaps at his hands half-heartedly, but it's so tempting. ALEX See what you deserve. GABRIELLA (SUCCUMBING) We're both crazy. (CONTINUED) 25. 32 32 CONTINUED: Alex moves her hair away. She lets him hook the necklace around her neck. He reaches over to open the closet door, fitted out now as a file cabinet, but with the original closet mirror still in place. The safe is visible. Gabriella stares at her reflection, Alex behind her, watching her. The necklace changes her posture. She angles her chin slightly, twists back her hair. Diamonds suit her. GABRIELLA (TITILLATED) It's vulgar. ALEX into her ear) Not against your skin. He starts to pleat her T-shirt loose from her jeans. She doesn't resist. They watch each other

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Blood and Wine Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS BLOOD AND WINE Written by Nick Villiers SECOND DRAFT DECEMBER 12, 1994 FADE IN: A PAIR OF HANDS men's hands, nicely groomed, hold a small white terry towel spoiled by blood-red spots. The hands rinse the towel in a copper bar sink. The stains soften but stay. A tan jacket sleeve, spotted the same way, moves INTO FRAM. The hands dab the wet towel at the spots, with no more success, and throw it into the sink. It falls half in, still dripping the stains a drop at a time to the floor. ALL IN CLOSEUP The owner of the hands walks to a wine rack, opens a bottle of white wine, drizzles the wine on the jacket sleeve. The stains disappear. He hangs his jacket on a hook and walks from THE CELLAR and up the narrow stairs. His FOOTFALLS ECHO against the unadorned cement block walls. We see his shape, mid- forties, powerful, his shirt pulled out. He's carrying the open bottle by the neck. 2 INT. WINE STORE - NIGHT Still seen from behind, the man emerges from the cellar into a contrastingly elegant space with a wood-beamed. ceiling, vaguely European. He walks along a narrow aisle of wooden diamond bins. As the space widens his foot hits something in his path. He bends to find a shoe. He glances about nervously. There are shutters on the storefront windows. Shoe in hand, he tightens the shutters. We see his profile, a good-looking man. He walks toward a brighter room at the back of the store, the Tasting Room. Now he retrieves a pair of women's trousers from the floor, and as he straightens up we see his entire face, genial, venial, redeemed by his smile. ALEX GATES. He speaks nonchalantly toward the room. ALEX Twenty people tonight. I got a South Beach widow, a plastic surgeon -- they actually came together. (A BEAT) These people -- all they really want is something to brag about at dinner parties. He swigs from the bottle of white wine, grimaces, detours behind the counter, and spits the mouthful into the plastic lined wastebasket. He throws the bottle away. (CONTINUED) 2. 2 2 CONTINUED: There's a basket of baguettes on the counter. Alex breaks off an end and chews it to rid his mouth of the taste of the wine. Still chewing, he walks toward the tasting room. ALEX There I was, passing the wine, passing the bread, I suddenly felt like the priest at Masst Or maybe Mass started out as a wine tasting, and Jesus was a salesman. what do you think? He goes into THE TASTING ROOM It seems empty except for a large wooden table, folding chairs in disarray, open bottles clustered at one end of the table. A chalkboard on the wall has CHATEAU BEYCHEVELLE written across it at the top, vintages listed underneath. The woman's voice that replies is Gabriella's. GABRIELLA (0.S.) (with a throaty laugh) Maybe I should get dressed. Leaning against the corner is a woman wearing only her panties and a shirt. In her mid-twenties she has striking South American looks. GABRIELLA VASQUEZ. She's sipping red wine from a plastic glass. GABRIETM I don't want to spoil a religious experience. ALEX -- Ever heard of Georges Duboeuf? He throws away some of the glasses. ALEX Duboeuf has a nose and a palate -- like a gift from God. He can taste a single grape before the harvest... and describe the beaujolais it's going to produce. She laughs. GABRIELLA Oh, you have competition. (CONTINUED) 3. 2 2 CONTINUED: (2) ALEX (SLIGHTLY ANNOYED) You know how many bottles I have in this store? Open any one of 'em, I'll tell you the vintage and vintner, b lindfolded. He bends down to pick up the chunks of baguette strewn on the floor. He doesn't see her slip off her panties. She walks behind him, twirling them into a tight band. She whips them over his eyes. He laughs. GABRIELLA Okay. Show me. ALEX Victoria's Secret 95. She passes her glass under his nose. ALEX Gabriella, I picked these wines. GABRIELLA So what is it? ALEX All I can smell is your perfume. She laughs. GABRIELLA I'm not wearing any. ALEX I even bought it for you. She opens her shirt. She's not wearing a bra. She lowers her breast to the glass and then to his mouth. GABRIELLA Tell me now. He kisses her wet breast. ALEX (WITHOUT HESITATION) Beychevelle '83. Lot of body. Very aggressive. He pulls off the panty blindfold, kisses her on the mouth softly, then fully. (CONTINUED) 4. 2 2 CONTINUED: (3) GABRIELLA (LOW) -- I lo e y u, Alex. V O 3 3 INT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT (LATER) Alex is unlocking the door for Gabriella. Dressed, she looks younger. They're awkward with each other. GABRIELLA Don't think you have to say it because .1 say it, Alex. (SMILING BRIGHTLY) Doesn't mean anything.. ALEX It means something to me. GABRIELLA (EASED) We're good together, aren't we. Alex lets out a breath. ALEX Oh, yeah... We're pretty good. He kisses her goodbye, unlocks the door. She goes out to her Honda Civic. Alex doesn't wait to see her drive off before he heads back to finish cleaning up the tasting room. 4 4 INT. TASTING ROOM - NIGHT Alex straightens the last chair and starts to extract air from the open bottles. He hears a quiet CLANK of METAL. Instantly alert, he reaches for his jacket and turns off the-light. 5 5 INT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT Behind the cash register Alex opens a drawer and takes out a revolver. ze thumbs the safety off. The NOISES RECUR, like someone trying to break in through the back door from the parking lot. Alex slings his jacket casually over the gun. 5. 6 6 EXT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT Alex throws open the back door; he's counting on the element of surprise. HIS POV His red Cadillac convertible is idling nose.to the chain locked across the parking lot. A MAN in his twenties, whose tropical shirt fairly glows under the security lights, is using a pair of bolt cutters on the chain. ALEX (ADVANCING) You think you're gonna steal my car, asshole? The younger man whirls around. YOUNG MAN You scared me, man. A middle-aged man, a REPO MAN, calls out lazily from behind the wheel. REPO MAN This is not your car, sir. This car belongs to the Star Leasing Company. Alex buries the gun in the rear of his waistband as though he's rubbing his stiff back and cranks his smile to a higher wattage than the security lights. REPO MAN I can collect either the money or the car. Given how much you owe, I figure it's the car. The younger man has almost hacked through the chain. ALEX Pop the. trunk. REPO MAN We inventory the property at the yard. He keeps his eye on the chain, ready to gun the engine as soon as the exit is clear. ALEX I just want to show you something. Worked by the combination of natural curiosity and Alex's charm; the repo man pops the trunk and gets out of the still-running car. (CONTINUED) 6. 6 6 CONTINUED: In his hand he has the locking "Club" Alex usually uses to secure his. steering wheel. He's not stupid. Amused, Alex takes a step back, palms up. YOUNG MAN What are you doing? The repo man ignores him and looks in the trunk. ALEX Do you drink? REPO MAN Not on the job. What is this, booze? ALEX Two cases of single malt whiskey aged in the barrel before he was born. REPO MAN The Caddy's overdue. ALEX So are you. Drink it with the kid. Teach him what smooth is. Enjoy yourselves. Isn't that worth a few days' breather... (A BEAT) My accountant's a fuck-up. So am I, maybe, for not firing him. The bolt cutters clip through. The chain falls. YOUNG MAN We're clear. 7 7 INT. CADILLAC - NIGHT Alex is driving fast, top down, Samba MUSIC loud on the STEREO. He keeps time on the wheel as the Miami skyline cruises by. EXT. CADILLAC - NIGHT Alex turns into the garage of an expensive condominium building before the gate has slid all the way open. The TIRES SQUEAL as he powers the car around the corner. (CONTINUED) 7. 8 8 CONTINUED: A DUCATI MOTORCYCLE hogs his space. Alex lays the car in tightly. He has to squeeze out the door. He bumps the Ducati. It starts to topple; he grabs it before it goes over. 9 9 INT. CONDO - NIGHT Alex lets himself in. The entry ALARM starts to BEEP. He turns it off and resets it. The light has been left on in the kitchen. 10 10 INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT JASON, a handsome, troubled 17-year-old with long, dark hair, is filing barbs off a pile of fishing hooks on the center island. He looks harder and wiser than his years. Tackle is strewn everywhere. Some spaghetti remains in the pot it was cooked in and Jason's knife is standing upright in it. Alex walks into the kitchen. He makes an effort to be pleasant, although he's irritated by the mess, by the motorcycle. ALEX It's late, Jason. JASON I'm going out tonight. Alex exhales. ALEX You can't'fish all night and work all day. JASON Working for you doesn't exactly tax my mind. ALEX No wonder you drop bottles. JASON Fire me. ALEX Do you do it on purpose? JASON Fishing bought me my bike. (CONTINUED) 8. 10 10 CONTINUED: ALEX I almost knocked it over trying to get out of the car. JASON (SARCASTIC) I wasn't sure you were coming home. SEVERS The TOASTER OVEN DINGS. Jason takes out a muffin, it in two with his fishing knife. ALEX Use a regular knife. JASON This has a better edge. Feel it (pointing it at Alex, BLADE FLAT) -- feel it. Their voices are rising. ALEX Pointed, it's a fucking weapon. Put it away. JASON Hell with you. Jason exits to the stairs. ALEX And keep your voice down. Your mother's asleep. STAIRS JASON If you got home on time once in a while, maybe she could skip the chemical help. Alex is also on the stairs. ALEX You have no idea, none, zip, what goes on in a marriage. JASON Yeah, well, I'm learning more than I want to. (CONTINUED)' 9. 10 10 CONTINUED: (2) LANDING UPSTAIRS SUZANNE (O .S=.. ) Now what are you arguing about? SUZANNE is a pretty young woman in her late thirties with a sense of humor and irony. She's chemically relaxed, but not stupefied. She pulls a robe around herself, modest in front of her son; and although her body's not spectacular, like Gabriella's, she has a trim. athletic build. JASON It's not an argument. ALEX I asked him to clean up downstairs. SUZANNE (SOOTHING ALEX) Maybe he hadn't finished- ALEX A modicum of cooperation, you know? JASON A modicum. What's that. Modicum my ass. He pushes past his mother toward his own room. Suzanne follows him down the hallway, leaving. Alex behind. SUZANNE I don't like that tone from: you. JASON Then go to bed. ALEX Hey! JASON (RIGHT BACK) What! SUZANNE It's too late for this. ALEX Jason has gone into his room. He slams the door. CHOOSES enters his bedroom. Suzanne, alone for a-moment, to enter Jason's room. 10. 11 11 INT. JASON'S ROOM SUZANNE He's my husband. JASON (SOFTLY) I know, Mom. SUZANNE -- I still love him. JASON Whatever. She walks out. 12 12 INT. BATHROOM - NIGHT Alex stands under water as hot as he can stand, parboiling himself. Eyes squeezed shut, he lets out a long breath. His life demands more energy than he has anymore. He soaps himself thoroughly. 13 13 INT. MASTER BEDROOM - NIGHT Suzanne hears the front DOOR SLAM. Jason's DUCATI STARTS UP and ACCELERATES away. Alex comes out of the bathroom in a towel. SUZANNE (FONDLY) Lie down, I'll give you a back rub. She stumbles slightly against the bed, catches a bed post for balance, flops back on the bed with a laugh. SUZANNE -- maybe I'd better lie down. He bends down to kiss her, then heads for the television. Suzanne props herself up on her elbows. He pops a cassette into the VCR: porno, she assumes. She does her best. SUZANNE I liked the twin nurses. There was kind of a story. Alex brings the remote control back to bed. ALEX You'll like this one better. (CONTINUED) 11. 13 13 CONTINUED: He hangs his towel on a doorknob, slides into bed, starts the tape, which begins with sweat-slick dancing girls at Carnival. To Suzanne's astonishment, it turns out to be a travelog. SUZANNE Rio? ALEX I've been so busy. We could sneak away for a week.. Would you like that? SUZANNE If we really go. Last time I packed, we went nowhere. ALEX (SLEEPILY) Last time was different. SUZANNE (watching the tape) The beaches -- I thought we had a beach. I read how the hotels keep spotters on the roof with scopes, to keep thieves away from the guests. They can look at every inch of your body through the scope. (with a low laugh) Do you mind that I like that? Alex? He has fallen asleep. Tenderly she draws the sheet to his shoulder and settles down to watch the rest of the tape. DISSOLVE TO: 14 EXT. BOAT - DAWN 14 On the flying bridge of an old fishing boat, Jason eases the throttle to idle speed. The engine quiets down. The SWELLS SLAP harder against the wooden sides. The boat dips and dances to the music of the water. Jason swings down the ladder. He sets up his linis to troll. The starry dome of the sky is starting to brighten around its rim. Jason leans on the transom and stares at the flat, silvery wedge of wake. He breathes out a word. JASON :. Bite... (CONTINUED) 12. 14 14 CONTINUED: Nothing happens. He doesn't move. Then the top of one of the rods shivers slightly, goes still. Jason delicately fingers the rod like a blind man reading Braille, to feel for vibration. A smile pulls at his mouth. He steps behind the rod. The fish hits. JASON (CALLING OUT) Henryl Fish ont The line screams out. Jason's ready. He sets the hook. JASON Time to go to work, man! C'mon. A tall, black drifter appears from-below, still yawning, scratching. HENRY, 33. He wears a red Panama hat that's weathered his head for some time. HENRY Who we got? JASON Let's find out. He hauls back on the rod, the line rises from the ocean, they both recognize the fish at the end. HENRY Fucking sharks. Miami's fished out of the good stuff. Damn. He spits over the side. Jason grins. JASON This one's got more to worry about than you do. He starts to reel in the fish. Henry moves to the wheel.- HENRY Just shoot 'Jaws' in the water. I want to know the sucker's good and dead 'fore he sets a fin in my boat. You got a barb on that hook? . JASON Oh, yeah. Jason braces for the fight. 13. 15 15 EXT. DOCK - MORNING Jason and Henry are cutting the shark with the speed and dexterity of professionals. HENRY The Gulf, man, that's the place. And what makes you think fifty-fifty is right? My boat. My gas. JASON My skill. (slicing off the fins) ... My fins. 16 16 EXT. FISH MARKET - LONG SHOT - MORNING Jason and Henry slap their catch onto the Fishmonger's slippery counter. The market's noisy, men shouting. We see the negotiation from a distance. 17 EXT. DOCK - DAY (MINUTES LATE) 17 Jason and Henry walk through the hubbub. HENRY You cool? JASON I'm cool. HENRY We cool. Jason guns his Ducati. 18 INT. WINE STORE - DAY 18 Alex comes out of his office. ALEX Rob, has Jason shown up? A man's French-accented VOICE answers him from the store. ROBERT (O.S.) Not yet. ALEX You have his paycheck there? ROBERT All ready. (CONTINUED) 14. 18 18 CONTINUED: Alex takes it, and rips it up. 19 19 INT. CHINESE RESTAURANT - DAY The Chinese CHEF in the busy, steamy kitchen is inspecting the shark fins Jason has brought him. Jason is anxious to finish business and go. CHEF You no like my company? Fine. Who cares. Bring me more fin, you retire. You no want to retire? Good. Don't charge starving Chinese so much for these things. JASON You ever caught a shark? CHEF (BIGGER) You ever cook one? JASON Lemme -- lemme show you something. Jason pulls up the sleeve of his denim jacket to display a fresh gash across his arm. JASON He was already gaffed onto the side of the boat, good as dead. Two hours dead! And I was still too close to the mouth. Revenge is the last instinct to go, did you know that? The chef shrugs and shows his thumb, missing a joint. CHEF -- Work's a dangerous thing. (smiling with lots of TEETH) Nice fin, Jason. He tosses the fins in a cauldron of boiling water, slaps the CASH REGISTER on the side. It RINGS. 20 20 EXT. RESTAURANT - DAY Jason jams on his helmet and starts his. motorcycle, guns it down the street. (CONTINUED) 15. 20 20 CONTINUED: MIAMI SKYLINE Jason weaves through traffic, expert enough to take chances that goose the adrenalin. 21 21 EXT. WINE SHOP - DAY Robert and Alex are loading cases of wine into the trunk of the Caddy when Jason skids into the parking lot. He takes off his helmet. ALEX Just get in the car. 22 22 INT. CADILLAC - DAY (TRAVELING) Jason has fallen asleep while Alex drives. Alex picks up Jason's hand. Jerking awake, Jason tries to pull away, but his reflexes are sleep-slowed. Alex sniffs Jason's fingers, wrinkles his nose, lets Jason have his hand back. ALEX You stink. JASON I washed. ALEX There's Wash IN Dries in the glove compartment. Jason opens the compartment, finds the packets, opens one, rubs his hands. ALEX ... I'm trying here, Jason -- I really am. When you didn't want to go to college, I took your side, I said fine -- I mean, I -didn't finish college, and I've done all right. I gave you a job', a steady check, which is more than anybody else has done. And what do I get back? Shit. I've tried to teach you the business -- the care, the finesse... Jason laughs dismissively. (CONTINUED) 16. 22 22 CONTINUED: ALEX Well, look at it this way, Jason, someday you'll have your boat and I'll have my vineyard, and the best part '11 be they're nowhere near each other. JASON (SATISFIED) I'll send you a Christmas card. ALEX Save the stamp. They turn into the driveway to an expensive development. 23 23 EXT. SECURITY BOOTH, CORAL GABLES - DAY The Cadillac rolls to a stop at the ate. A tough, but amicable-looking armed guard in his forties, MIKE, opens the window of the air-conditioned booth. His RADIO is tuned to the FOOTBALL GAME. ALEX Hi, mike -- what's the score? MIKE (CHECKING THE APPOINTMENT BOARD) Dolphins down by nine, minute forty to go. It's over. ALEX Don't underestimate Marino. Mike ticks off the appointment, raises the gate. MIKE I told you, they don't have it this year. With a wave of acknowledgment for Mike, Alex.. drives onto the grounds. ALEX (YELLING BACK) Judas! Grinning, Mike routinely writes down the license plate number. 17. 24 24 EXT. CADILLAC - DAY Alex cruises past a collection of oversized villas, and turns into the driveway of the gaudiest. He and Jason climb out of the car. Alex opens the trunk. He loads two wine cases into Jason's arms, takes the third himself. They haven't said a word to each other. 25 25 EXT. VILLA - DAY Alex rings the intercom with his elbow. Gabriella's VOICE CRACKLES in response. GABRIELLA (V.O.) on the intercom) Who is it? ALEX Wine delivery. The INTERCOM CLICKS off. They hear FOOTSTEPS approaching. The door opens. Jason's eyes focus. He's hooked. Gabriella is smiling at Alex. She has her arms full of clean burp cloths. GABRIELLA Oh, the boss himself! ALEX (with a modest chuckle) How are you? She glances politely toward Jason, not at all expecting what she sees. A circuit connects between them. ALEX Gabriella takes care of Baby Reese. (TO GABRIELLA) This is my stepson, Jason. GABRIELLA (VERY CORRECT) How do you do. JASON Hi. GABRIELLA Is the wine for the boat? Come through the house. 18. 26 26 INT./EXT. VILLA - DAY They follow her inside. Jason takes in the richness of the place, but is more focussed on Gabriella. They exit TO T he lawn which leads to a dock. 27 27 EXT. REESES' BOAT DAY A sleek, ocean-going yacht is tied up at the dock, the crew unobtrusively at work. FRANK REESE, a powerful, confidant man in his mid-sixties, is sitting with his INSURANCE AGENT at a table on deck where policies are spread out next to a jewelry box. Reese's expensive 35- year-old wife DINA has turned her chair to sun her legs while she plays with the BABY. DINA -- what's the point of having it, if I can't wear it, Frank? AGENT (DEFERENTIALLY) You can wear it anywhere you like, Mrs. Reese -- except out of the country. Gabriella leads Alex and Jason aboard. Frank likes Alex and is glad to see him. Alex can't help glancing at Dina's long legs.. She smiles. FRANK Alex, should we insure the wine while we're at it? His arms tired,'Alex is happy to set down the case. ALEX Aren't you covered on your home policy? GABRIELLA (TO JASON) I'll show you, come on. AGENT How much wine are we talking about? Jason follows Gabriella down below, the VOICES on the deck fading. DINA (O.S.) Why bother insuring it? Let's drink it instead. 19. 28 28 INT. BOAT - DAY It's quiet inside, not tasteful but impressive, like everything else of the Reeses. Jason takes a stab at conversation. JASON Big boat. Gabriella laughs and looks over her shoulder at him. They're both kids. GABRIELLA ugly, isn't it. He grins and relaxes, looks around. JASON The fittings are definitely -- yeah on the ugly side. But damn, she's solid. GABRIELLA Oh, a boat type. JASON (proud, defensive) I like.boats. Gabriella shows him the climatized, built-in wine closet next to the galley. He starts to rack the bottles while she watches. He talks to stop her from leaving. JASON So where you headed? GABRIELLA I'm not going, 'I can't go. JASON They don't want to take the baby. GABRIELLA I don't have a green card, I can't leave the country. Baby goes with an American nurse. I house-sit. It's fine. JASON You don't like them. Gabriella laughs. (CONTINUED) 20. 28 28 CONTINUED: GABRIELLA God. I'm obvious. I just don't like working for people, but that's life. He chafes under authority the same way she does. JASON Doesn't have to be. GABRIELLA Maybe not with a rich stepfather. He laughs. JASON Worst kind. GABRIELLA (CORRECTIVELY) No. (A BEAT) You don't appreciate what you have, Jason. It's very poor where I came from. JASON Where's that? GABRIELLA Venezuela. Do I look it? JASON I don't know, I never been there. GABRIELLA Well, I don't. My mother's Indian. The India kind of Indian. (LAUGHS) Imagine a house where the father asks 'What's for dinner' in Spanish, and the mother answers 'Curry' in Hindi. 'Que hay para cenar' she says, 'Murgee, masala, ghaal.' He says, 'No es importante.' No wonder I'm nuts. JASON You don't seem too nuts. She laughs. GABRIELLA You don't know mel (OOR1TINUED ) 21. 28 CONTINUED: .( 2) 28 They're suddenly both very aware that they're alone together. 29 29 EXT. BOAT, THE DECK - DAY The agent is putting a magnificent diamond necklace in a velvet pouch that he fastidiously cinches and ties. Alex looks away from it to take a bottle out of the remaining case on deck. AGENT -- so back to the safe it goes -- Dina lifts up the baby and smells its bottom. FRANK Dina, that's disgusting. DINA The alternative is using your fingers, Frank. which offends you more? Alex laughs. Frank pushes back his chair. FRANK Don't encourage her, Alex. Her mouth is big enough. Dina is hurt. FRANK (to the agent) I'll show you that painting in our stateroom. The agent follows him away. ALEX (kindly; to Dina) Do you want to see the label? She hides her hurt by not looking at him. DINA Just open the bottle, Alex. Pour us both a glass. I'm not allowed to drink alone. When she turns her head and looks at him, she's flirting. 22. 30 30 INT. BOAT - DAY Jason has almost finished storing the wine. Gabriella is sitting on a bar stool at the galley,. listening to him, snared by the quiet passion in his voice. JASON -- when you're skimming along the water, nothing between you and the bottom of the sea but a layer of wood, your thoughts... end. All that noise inside your head? Gabriella nods, understanding exactly. JASON . . . Stops. Dina's VOICE booms over the INTERCOM, startling both of them. The BABY is FUSSING. Gabriella makes a gesture of apology to Jason. DINA (V.O.) Gabriella? Are you down there? GABRIELLA Yes, Mrs. Reese. DINA (V.0.) The baby needs you. And bring a pacifier for Frank. GABRIELLA Right there. She slides off the stool. JASON You should come out with me sometime. She smiles without answering and goes topside. His eyes follow her. A Deckhand comes down the ladder with the remaining case of wine for him to stock. 31 EXT. BOAT - DAY 31 Gabriella. lifts the fussy baby from Dina, her hands sure and calming. She coos nonsense to his little ear as she- reaches for the diaper bag and slings it over her arm. GABRIELLA He.'s ready for his nap. (CONTINUED) 23. 31 31 CONTINUED: Frank and the agent return from another section of the boat. FRANK You doing up to the house, Gabriella? (off her nod) Want to take this with you? He sweeps the policies into a large manila envelope, drops the 'pouch in with them, ties the string, hands it to her. FRANK Put it on my desk. He looks at his wife with her glass, Alex with his glass, and doesn't like it. His voice hardens slightly. FRANK Are we all set, Alex? ALEX I'm going to check the storage room, see what else'll travel. I know I put some vintage Armagnac in there, maybe some Porto? He heads down the gangplank. FRANK He's a vendor, Dina. It's like drinking with the help. DINA (DISARMING HIM) Did you pick the wine, sweetie? It's lovely. Frank grins, pleased. His hand curves around her shoulder. He has forgotten about the other vendor present, the agent. AGENT (AWKWARDLY) So I'll messenger over the rider for your signature -- Frank laughs out loud, in a better mood: FRANK -- You still here? Dina laughs, too. 24. 32 32 INT. VILLA, UPSTAIRS - DAY Gabriella settles the baby on his side, the only Reese she likes. She starts to close the shutters. Lullaby MUSIC is playing on the baby's TAPE DECK. IN THE HALLWAY She closes the nursery door as softly as possible. A man's hands go around her throat. Her gasp dies stillborn. It's Alex, kissing her.ear, holding Dina's diamond necklace to her neck. ALEX (MURMURING) Did he ever come on to you? GABRIELLA (ANGRY) Don't sneak up on me that way! ALEX Look how beautiful you are. He's an idiot if he didn't. Now she sees the necklace. GABRIELLA What are you doing? She snatches the necklace away from him and fairly runs down the hall to Frank's study. IN THE STUDY She tries td stuff it in the pouch. Alex is right behind her. GABRIELLA You're going to get me fired and deported. ALEX Just put it on for a minute. Look at yourself. She slaps at his hands half-heartedly, but it's so tempting. ALEX See what you deserve. GABRIELLA (SUCCUMBING) We're both crazy. (CONTINUED) 25. 32 32 CONTINUED: Alex moves her hair away. She lets him hook the necklace around her neck. He reaches over to open the closet door, fitted out now as a file cabinet, but with the original closet mirror still in place. The safe is visible. Gabriella stares at her reflection, Alex behind her, watching her. The necklace changes her posture. She angles her chin slightly, twists back her hair. Diamonds suit her. GABRIELLA (TITILLATED) It's vulgar. ALEX into her ear) Not against your skin. He starts to pleat her T-shirt loose from her jeans. She doesn't resist. They watch each other

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How many times the word 'been' appears in the text?

Blood and Wine Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS BLOOD AND WINE Written by Nick Villiers SECOND DRAFT DECEMBER 12, 1994 FADE IN: A PAIR OF HANDS men's hands, nicely groomed, hold a small white terry towel spoiled by blood-red spots. The hands rinse the towel in a copper bar sink. The stains soften but stay. A tan jacket sleeve, spotted the same way, moves INTO FRAM. The hands dab the wet towel at the spots, with no more success, and throw it into the sink. It falls half in, still dripping the stains a drop at a time to the floor. ALL IN CLOSEUP The owner of the hands walks to a wine rack, opens a bottle of white wine, drizzles the wine on the jacket sleeve. The stains disappear. He hangs his jacket on a hook and walks from THE CELLAR and up the narrow stairs. His FOOTFALLS ECHO against the unadorned cement block walls. We see his shape, mid- forties, powerful, his shirt pulled out. He's carrying the open bottle by the neck. 2 INT. WINE STORE - NIGHT Still seen from behind, the man emerges from the cellar into a contrastingly elegant space with a wood-beamed. ceiling, vaguely European. He walks along a narrow aisle of wooden diamond bins. As the space widens his foot hits something in his path. He bends to find a shoe. He glances about nervously. There are shutters on the storefront windows. Shoe in hand, he tightens the shutters. We see his profile, a good-looking man. He walks toward a brighter room at the back of the store, the Tasting Room. Now he retrieves a pair of women's trousers from the floor, and as he straightens up we see his entire face, genial, venial, redeemed by his smile. ALEX GATES. He speaks nonchalantly toward the room. ALEX Twenty people tonight. I got a South Beach widow, a plastic surgeon -- they actually came together. (A BEAT) These people -- all they really want is something to brag about at dinner parties. He swigs from the bottle of white wine, grimaces, detours behind the counter, and spits the mouthful into the plastic lined wastebasket. He throws the bottle away. (CONTINUED) 2. 2 2 CONTINUED: There's a basket of baguettes on the counter. Alex breaks off an end and chews it to rid his mouth of the taste of the wine. Still chewing, he walks toward the tasting room. ALEX There I was, passing the wine, passing the bread, I suddenly felt like the priest at Masst Or maybe Mass started out as a wine tasting, and Jesus was a salesman. what do you think? He goes into THE TASTING ROOM It seems empty except for a large wooden table, folding chairs in disarray, open bottles clustered at one end of the table. A chalkboard on the wall has CHATEAU BEYCHEVELLE written across it at the top, vintages listed underneath. The woman's voice that replies is Gabriella's. GABRIELLA (0.S.) (with a throaty laugh) Maybe I should get dressed. Leaning against the corner is a woman wearing only her panties and a shirt. In her mid-twenties she has striking South American looks. GABRIELLA VASQUEZ. She's sipping red wine from a plastic glass. GABRIETM I don't want to spoil a religious experience. ALEX -- Ever heard of Georges Duboeuf? He throws away some of the glasses. ALEX Duboeuf has a nose and a palate -- like a gift from God. He can taste a single grape before the harvest... and describe the beaujolais it's going to produce. She laughs. GABRIELLA Oh, you have competition. (CONTINUED) 3. 2 2 CONTINUED: (2) ALEX (SLIGHTLY ANNOYED) You know how many bottles I have in this store? Open any one of 'em, I'll tell you the vintage and vintner, b lindfolded. He bends down to pick up the chunks of baguette strewn on the floor. He doesn't see her slip off her panties. She walks behind him, twirling them into a tight band. She whips them over his eyes. He laughs. GABRIELLA Okay. Show me. ALEX Victoria's Secret 95. She passes her glass under his nose. ALEX Gabriella, I picked these wines. GABRIELLA So what is it? ALEX All I can smell is your perfume. She laughs. GABRIELLA I'm not wearing any. ALEX I even bought it for you. She opens her shirt. She's not wearing a bra. She lowers her breast to the glass and then to his mouth. GABRIELLA Tell me now. He kisses her wet breast. ALEX (WITHOUT HESITATION) Beychevelle '83. Lot of body. Very aggressive. He pulls off the panty blindfold, kisses her on the mouth softly, then fully. (CONTINUED) 4. 2 2 CONTINUED: (3) GABRIELLA (LOW) -- I lo e y u, Alex. V O 3 3 INT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT (LATER) Alex is unlocking the door for Gabriella. Dressed, she looks younger. They're awkward with each other. GABRIELLA Don't think you have to say it because .1 say it, Alex. (SMILING BRIGHTLY) Doesn't mean anything.. ALEX It means something to me. GABRIELLA (EASED) We're good together, aren't we. Alex lets out a breath. ALEX Oh, yeah... We're pretty good. He kisses her goodbye, unlocks the door. She goes out to her Honda Civic. Alex doesn't wait to see her drive off before he heads back to finish cleaning up the tasting room. 4 4 INT. TASTING ROOM - NIGHT Alex straightens the last chair and starts to extract air from the open bottles. He hears a quiet CLANK of METAL. Instantly alert, he reaches for his jacket and turns off the-light. 5 5 INT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT Behind the cash register Alex opens a drawer and takes out a revolver. ze thumbs the safety off. The NOISES RECUR, like someone trying to break in through the back door from the parking lot. Alex slings his jacket casually over the gun. 5. 6 6 EXT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT Alex throws open the back door; he's counting on the element of surprise. HIS POV His red Cadillac convertible is idling nose.to the chain locked across the parking lot. A MAN in his twenties, whose tropical shirt fairly glows under the security lights, is using a pair of bolt cutters on the chain. ALEX (ADVANCING) You think you're gonna steal my car, asshole? The younger man whirls around. YOUNG MAN You scared me, man. A middle-aged man, a REPO MAN, calls out lazily from behind the wheel. REPO MAN This is not your car, sir. This car belongs to the Star Leasing Company. Alex buries the gun in the rear of his waistband as though he's rubbing his stiff back and cranks his smile to a higher wattage than the security lights. REPO MAN I can collect either the money or the car. Given how much you owe, I figure it's the car. The younger man has almost hacked through the chain. ALEX Pop the. trunk. REPO MAN We inventory the property at the yard. He keeps his eye on the chain, ready to gun the engine as soon as the exit is clear. ALEX I just want to show you something. Worked by the combination of natural curiosity and Alex's charm; the repo man pops the trunk and gets out of the still-running car. (CONTINUED) 6. 6 6 CONTINUED: In his hand he has the locking "Club" Alex usually uses to secure his. steering wheel. He's not stupid. Amused, Alex takes a step back, palms up. YOUNG MAN What are you doing? The repo man ignores him and looks in the trunk. ALEX Do you drink? REPO MAN Not on the job. What is this, booze? ALEX Two cases of single malt whiskey aged in the barrel before he was born. REPO MAN The Caddy's overdue. ALEX So are you. Drink it with the kid. Teach him what smooth is. Enjoy yourselves. Isn't that worth a few days' breather... (A BEAT) My accountant's a fuck-up. So am I, maybe, for not firing him. The bolt cutters clip through. The chain falls. YOUNG MAN We're clear. 7 7 INT. CADILLAC - NIGHT Alex is driving fast, top down, Samba MUSIC loud on the STEREO. He keeps time on the wheel as the Miami skyline cruises by. EXT. CADILLAC - NIGHT Alex turns into the garage of an expensive condominium building before the gate has slid all the way open. The TIRES SQUEAL as he powers the car around the corner. (CONTINUED) 7. 8 8 CONTINUED: A DUCATI MOTORCYCLE hogs his space. Alex lays the car in tightly. He has to squeeze out the door. He bumps the Ducati. It starts to topple; he grabs it before it goes over. 9 9 INT. CONDO - NIGHT Alex lets himself in. The entry ALARM starts to BEEP. He turns it off and resets it. The light has been left on in the kitchen. 10 10 INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT JASON, a handsome, troubled 17-year-old with long, dark hair, is filing barbs off a pile of fishing hooks on the center island. He looks harder and wiser than his years. Tackle is strewn everywhere. Some spaghetti remains in the pot it was cooked in and Jason's knife is standing upright in it. Alex walks into the kitchen. He makes an effort to be pleasant, although he's irritated by the mess, by the motorcycle. ALEX It's late, Jason. JASON I'm going out tonight. Alex exhales. ALEX You can't'fish all night and work all day. JASON Working for you doesn't exactly tax my mind. ALEX No wonder you drop bottles. JASON Fire me. ALEX Do you do it on purpose? JASON Fishing bought me my bike. (CONTINUED) 8. 10 10 CONTINUED: ALEX I almost knocked it over trying to get out of the car. JASON (SARCASTIC) I wasn't sure you were coming home. SEVERS The TOASTER OVEN DINGS. Jason takes out a muffin, it in two with his fishing knife. ALEX Use a regular knife. JASON This has a better edge. Feel it (pointing it at Alex, BLADE FLAT) -- feel it. Their voices are rising. ALEX Pointed, it's a fucking weapon. Put it away. JASON Hell with you. Jason exits to the stairs. ALEX And keep your voice down. Your mother's asleep. STAIRS JASON If you got home on time once in a while, maybe she could skip the chemical help. Alex is also on the stairs. ALEX You have no idea, none, zip, what goes on in a marriage. JASON Yeah, well, I'm learning more than I want to. (CONTINUED)' 9. 10 10 CONTINUED: (2) LANDING UPSTAIRS SUZANNE (O .S=.. ) Now what are you arguing about? SUZANNE is a pretty young woman in her late thirties with a sense of humor and irony. She's chemically relaxed, but not stupefied. She pulls a robe around herself, modest in front of her son; and although her body's not spectacular, like Gabriella's, she has a trim. athletic build. JASON It's not an argument. ALEX I asked him to clean up downstairs. SUZANNE (SOOTHING ALEX) Maybe he hadn't finished- ALEX A modicum of cooperation, you know? JASON A modicum. What's that. Modicum my ass. He pushes past his mother toward his own room. Suzanne follows him down the hallway, leaving. Alex behind. SUZANNE I don't like that tone from: you. JASON Then go to bed. ALEX Hey! JASON (RIGHT BACK) What! SUZANNE It's too late for this. ALEX Jason has gone into his room. He slams the door. CHOOSES enters his bedroom. Suzanne, alone for a-moment, to enter Jason's room. 10. 11 11 INT. JASON'S ROOM SUZANNE He's my husband. JASON (SOFTLY) I know, Mom. SUZANNE -- I still love him. JASON Whatever. She walks out. 12 12 INT. BATHROOM - NIGHT Alex stands under water as hot as he can stand, parboiling himself. Eyes squeezed shut, he lets out a long breath. His life demands more energy than he has anymore. He soaps himself thoroughly. 13 13 INT. MASTER BEDROOM - NIGHT Suzanne hears the front DOOR SLAM. Jason's DUCATI STARTS UP and ACCELERATES away. Alex comes out of the bathroom in a towel. SUZANNE (FONDLY) Lie down, I'll give you a back rub. She stumbles slightly against the bed, catches a bed post for balance, flops back on the bed with a laugh. SUZANNE -- maybe I'd better lie down. He bends down to kiss her, then heads for the television. Suzanne props herself up on her elbows. He pops a cassette into the VCR: porno, she assumes. She does her best. SUZANNE I liked the twin nurses. There was kind of a story. Alex brings the remote control back to bed. ALEX You'll like this one better. (CONTINUED) 11. 13 13 CONTINUED: He hangs his towel on a doorknob, slides into bed, starts the tape, which begins with sweat-slick dancing girls at Carnival. To Suzanne's astonishment, it turns out to be a travelog. SUZANNE Rio? ALEX I've been so busy. We could sneak away for a week.. Would you like that? SUZANNE If we really go. Last time I packed, we went nowhere. ALEX (SLEEPILY) Last time was different. SUZANNE (watching the tape) The beaches -- I thought we had a beach. I read how the hotels keep spotters on the roof with scopes, to keep thieves away from the guests. They can look at every inch of your body through the scope. (with a low laugh) Do you mind that I like that? Alex? He has fallen asleep. Tenderly she draws the sheet to his shoulder and settles down to watch the rest of the tape. DISSOLVE TO: 14 EXT. BOAT - DAWN 14 On the flying bridge of an old fishing boat, Jason eases the throttle to idle speed. The engine quiets down. The SWELLS SLAP harder against the wooden sides. The boat dips and dances to the music of the water. Jason swings down the ladder. He sets up his linis to troll. The starry dome of the sky is starting to brighten around its rim. Jason leans on the transom and stares at the flat, silvery wedge of wake. He breathes out a word. JASON :. Bite... (CONTINUED) 12. 14 14 CONTINUED: Nothing happens. He doesn't move. Then the top of one of the rods shivers slightly, goes still. Jason delicately fingers the rod like a blind man reading Braille, to feel for vibration. A smile pulls at his mouth. He steps behind the rod. The fish hits. JASON (CALLING OUT) Henryl Fish ont The line screams out. Jason's ready. He sets the hook. JASON Time to go to work, man! C'mon. A tall, black drifter appears from-below, still yawning, scratching. HENRY, 33. He wears a red Panama hat that's weathered his head for some time. HENRY Who we got? JASON Let's find out. He hauls back on the rod, the line rises from the ocean, they both recognize the fish at the end. HENRY Fucking sharks. Miami's fished out of the good stuff. Damn. He spits over the side. Jason grins. JASON This one's got more to worry about than you do. He starts to reel in the fish. Henry moves to the wheel.- HENRY Just shoot 'Jaws' in the water. I want to know the sucker's good and dead 'fore he sets a fin in my boat. You got a barb on that hook? . JASON Oh, yeah. Jason braces for the fight. 13. 15 15 EXT. DOCK - MORNING Jason and Henry are cutting the shark with the speed and dexterity of professionals. HENRY The Gulf, man, that's the place. And what makes you think fifty-fifty is right? My boat. My gas. JASON My skill. (slicing off the fins) ... My fins. 16 16 EXT. FISH MARKET - LONG SHOT - MORNING Jason and Henry slap their catch onto the Fishmonger's slippery counter. The market's noisy, men shouting. We see the negotiation from a distance. 17 EXT. DOCK - DAY (MINUTES LATE) 17 Jason and Henry walk through the hubbub. HENRY You cool? JASON I'm cool. HENRY We cool. Jason guns his Ducati. 18 INT. WINE STORE - DAY 18 Alex comes out of his office. ALEX Rob, has Jason shown up? A man's French-accented VOICE answers him from the store. ROBERT (O.S.) Not yet. ALEX You have his paycheck there? ROBERT All ready. (CONTINUED) 14. 18 18 CONTINUED: Alex takes it, and rips it up. 19 19 INT. CHINESE RESTAURANT - DAY The Chinese CHEF in the busy, steamy kitchen is inspecting the shark fins Jason has brought him. Jason is anxious to finish business and go. CHEF You no like my company? Fine. Who cares. Bring me more fin, you retire. You no want to retire? Good. Don't charge starving Chinese so much for these things. JASON You ever caught a shark? CHEF (BIGGER) You ever cook one? JASON Lemme -- lemme show you something. Jason pulls up the sleeve of his denim jacket to display a fresh gash across his arm. JASON He was already gaffed onto the side of the boat, good as dead. Two hours dead! And I was still too close to the mouth. Revenge is the last instinct to go, did you know that? The chef shrugs and shows his thumb, missing a joint. CHEF -- Work's a dangerous thing. (smiling with lots of TEETH) Nice fin, Jason. He tosses the fins in a cauldron of boiling water, slaps the CASH REGISTER on the side. It RINGS. 20 20 EXT. RESTAURANT - DAY Jason jams on his helmet and starts his. motorcycle, guns it down the street. (CONTINUED) 15. 20 20 CONTINUED: MIAMI SKYLINE Jason weaves through traffic, expert enough to take chances that goose the adrenalin. 21 21 EXT. WINE SHOP - DAY Robert and Alex are loading cases of wine into the trunk of the Caddy when Jason skids into the parking lot. He takes off his helmet. ALEX Just get in the car. 22 22 INT. CADILLAC - DAY (TRAVELING) Jason has fallen asleep while Alex drives. Alex picks up Jason's hand. Jerking awake, Jason tries to pull away, but his reflexes are sleep-slowed. Alex sniffs Jason's fingers, wrinkles his nose, lets Jason have his hand back. ALEX You stink. JASON I washed. ALEX There's Wash IN Dries in the glove compartment. Jason opens the compartment, finds the packets, opens one, rubs his hands. ALEX ... I'm trying here, Jason -- I really am. When you didn't want to go to college, I took your side, I said fine -- I mean, I -didn't finish college, and I've done all right. I gave you a job', a steady check, which is more than anybody else has done. And what do I get back? Shit. I've tried to teach you the business -- the care, the finesse... Jason laughs dismissively. (CONTINUED) 16. 22 22 CONTINUED: ALEX Well, look at it this way, Jason, someday you'll have your boat and I'll have my vineyard, and the best part '11 be they're nowhere near each other. JASON (SATISFIED) I'll send you a Christmas card. ALEX Save the stamp. They turn into the driveway to an expensive development. 23 23 EXT. SECURITY BOOTH, CORAL GABLES - DAY The Cadillac rolls to a stop at the ate. A tough, but amicable-looking armed guard in his forties, MIKE, opens the window of the air-conditioned booth. His RADIO is tuned to the FOOTBALL GAME. ALEX Hi, mike -- what's the score? MIKE (CHECKING THE APPOINTMENT BOARD) Dolphins down by nine, minute forty to go. It's over. ALEX Don't underestimate Marino. Mike ticks off the appointment, raises the gate. MIKE I told you, they don't have it this year. With a wave of acknowledgment for Mike, Alex.. drives onto the grounds. ALEX (YELLING BACK) Judas! Grinning, Mike routinely writes down the license plate number. 17. 24 24 EXT. CADILLAC - DAY Alex cruises past a collection of oversized villas, and turns into the driveway of the gaudiest. He and Jason climb out of the car. Alex opens the trunk. He loads two wine cases into Jason's arms, takes the third himself. They haven't said a word to each other. 25 25 EXT. VILLA - DAY Alex rings the intercom with his elbow. Gabriella's VOICE CRACKLES in response. GABRIELLA (V.O.) on the intercom) Who is it? ALEX Wine delivery. The INTERCOM CLICKS off. They hear FOOTSTEPS approaching. The door opens. Jason's eyes focus. He's hooked. Gabriella is smiling at Alex. She has her arms full of clean burp cloths. GABRIELLA Oh, the boss himself! ALEX (with a modest chuckle) How are you? She glances politely toward Jason, not at all expecting what she sees. A circuit connects between them. ALEX Gabriella takes care of Baby Reese. (TO GABRIELLA) This is my stepson, Jason. GABRIELLA (VERY CORRECT) How do you do. JASON Hi. GABRIELLA Is the wine for the boat? Come through the house. 18. 26 26 INT./EXT. VILLA - DAY They follow her inside. Jason takes in the richness of the place, but is more focussed on Gabriella. They exit TO T he lawn which leads to a dock. 27 27 EXT. REESES' BOAT DAY A sleek, ocean-going yacht is tied up at the dock, the crew unobtrusively at work. FRANK REESE, a powerful, confidant man in his mid-sixties, is sitting with his INSURANCE AGENT at a table on deck where policies are spread out next to a jewelry box. Reese's expensive 35- year-old wife DINA has turned her chair to sun her legs while she plays with the BABY. DINA -- what's the point of having it, if I can't wear it, Frank? AGENT (DEFERENTIALLY) You can wear it anywhere you like, Mrs. Reese -- except out of the country. Gabriella leads Alex and Jason aboard. Frank likes Alex and is glad to see him. Alex can't help glancing at Dina's long legs.. She smiles. FRANK Alex, should we insure the wine while we're at it? His arms tired,'Alex is happy to set down the case. ALEX Aren't you covered on your home policy? GABRIELLA (TO JASON) I'll show you, come on. AGENT How much wine are we talking about? Jason follows Gabriella down below, the VOICES on the deck fading. DINA (O.S.) Why bother insuring it? Let's drink it instead. 19. 28 28 INT. BOAT - DAY It's quiet inside, not tasteful but impressive, like everything else of the Reeses. Jason takes a stab at conversation. JASON Big boat. Gabriella laughs and looks over her shoulder at him. They're both kids. GABRIELLA ugly, isn't it. He grins and relaxes, looks around. JASON The fittings are definitely -- yeah on the ugly side. But damn, she's solid. GABRIELLA Oh, a boat type. JASON (proud, defensive) I like.boats. Gabriella shows him the climatized, built-in wine closet next to the galley. He starts to rack the bottles while she watches. He talks to stop her from leaving. JASON So where you headed? GABRIELLA I'm not going, 'I can't go. JASON They don't want to take the baby. GABRIELLA I don't have a green card, I can't leave the country. Baby goes with an American nurse. I house-sit. It's fine. JASON You don't like them. Gabriella laughs. (CONTINUED) 20. 28 28 CONTINUED: GABRIELLA God. I'm obvious. I just don't like working for people, but that's life. He chafes under authority the same way she does. JASON Doesn't have to be. GABRIELLA Maybe not with a rich stepfather. He laughs. JASON Worst kind. GABRIELLA (CORRECTIVELY) No. (A BEAT) You don't appreciate what you have, Jason. It's very poor where I came from. JASON Where's that? GABRIELLA Venezuela. Do I look it? JASON I don't know, I never been there. GABRIELLA Well, I don't. My mother's Indian. The India kind of Indian. (LAUGHS) Imagine a house where the father asks 'What's for dinner' in Spanish, and the mother answers 'Curry' in Hindi. 'Que hay para cenar' she says, 'Murgee, masala, ghaal.' He says, 'No es importante.' No wonder I'm nuts. JASON You don't seem too nuts. She laughs. GABRIELLA You don't know mel (OOR1TINUED ) 21. 28 CONTINUED: .( 2) 28 They're suddenly both very aware that they're alone together. 29 29 EXT. BOAT, THE DECK - DAY The agent is putting a magnificent diamond necklace in a velvet pouch that he fastidiously cinches and ties. Alex looks away from it to take a bottle out of the remaining case on deck. AGENT -- so back to the safe it goes -- Dina lifts up the baby and smells its bottom. FRANK Dina, that's disgusting. DINA The alternative is using your fingers, Frank. which offends you more? Alex laughs. Frank pushes back his chair. FRANK Don't encourage her, Alex. Her mouth is big enough. Dina is hurt. FRANK (to the agent) I'll show you that painting in our stateroom. The agent follows him away. ALEX (kindly; to Dina) Do you want to see the label? She hides her hurt by not looking at him. DINA Just open the bottle, Alex. Pour us both a glass. I'm not allowed to drink alone. When she turns her head and looks at him, she's flirting. 22. 30 30 INT. BOAT - DAY Jason has almost finished storing the wine. Gabriella is sitting on a bar stool at the galley,. listening to him, snared by the quiet passion in his voice. JASON -- when you're skimming along the water, nothing between you and the bottom of the sea but a layer of wood, your thoughts... end. All that noise inside your head? Gabriella nods, understanding exactly. JASON . . . Stops. Dina's VOICE booms over the INTERCOM, startling both of them. The BABY is FUSSING. Gabriella makes a gesture of apology to Jason. DINA (V.O.) Gabriella? Are you down there? GABRIELLA Yes, Mrs. Reese. DINA (V.0.) The baby needs you. And bring a pacifier for Frank. GABRIELLA Right there. She slides off the stool. JASON You should come out with me sometime. She smiles without answering and goes topside. His eyes follow her. A Deckhand comes down the ladder with the remaining case of wine for him to stock. 31 EXT. BOAT - DAY 31 Gabriella. lifts the fussy baby from Dina, her hands sure and calming. She coos nonsense to his little ear as she- reaches for the diaper bag and slings it over her arm. GABRIELLA He.'s ready for his nap. (CONTINUED) 23. 31 31 CONTINUED: Frank and the agent return from another section of the boat. FRANK You doing up to the house, Gabriella? (off her nod) Want to take this with you? He sweeps the policies into a large manila envelope, drops the 'pouch in with them, ties the string, hands it to her. FRANK Put it on my desk. He looks at his wife with her glass, Alex with his glass, and doesn't like it. His voice hardens slightly. FRANK Are we all set, Alex? ALEX I'm going to check the storage room, see what else'll travel. I know I put some vintage Armagnac in there, maybe some Porto? He heads down the gangplank. FRANK He's a vendor, Dina. It's like drinking with the help. DINA (DISARMING HIM) Did you pick the wine, sweetie? It's lovely. Frank grins, pleased. His hand curves around her shoulder. He has forgotten about the other vendor present, the agent. AGENT (AWKWARDLY) So I'll messenger over the rider for your signature -- Frank laughs out loud, in a better mood: FRANK -- You still here? Dina laughs, too. 24. 32 32 INT. VILLA, UPSTAIRS - DAY Gabriella settles the baby on his side, the only Reese she likes. She starts to close the shutters. Lullaby MUSIC is playing on the baby's TAPE DECK. IN THE HALLWAY She closes the nursery door as softly as possible. A man's hands go around her throat. Her gasp dies stillborn. It's Alex, kissing her.ear, holding Dina's diamond necklace to her neck. ALEX (MURMURING) Did he ever come on to you? GABRIELLA (ANGRY) Don't sneak up on me that way! ALEX Look how beautiful you are. He's an idiot if he didn't. Now she sees the necklace. GABRIELLA What are you doing? She snatches the necklace away from him and fairly runs down the hall to Frank's study. IN THE STUDY She tries td stuff it in the pouch. Alex is right behind her. GABRIELLA You're going to get me fired and deported. ALEX Just put it on for a minute. Look at yourself. She slaps at his hands half-heartedly, but it's so tempting. ALEX See what you deserve. GABRIELLA (SUCCUMBING) We're both crazy. (CONTINUED) 25. 32 32 CONTINUED: Alex moves her hair away. She lets him hook the necklace around her neck. He reaches over to open the closet door, fitted out now as a file cabinet, but with the original closet mirror still in place. The safe is visible. Gabriella stares at her reflection, Alex behind her, watching her. The necklace changes her posture. She angles her chin slightly, twists back her hair. Diamonds suit her. GABRIELLA (TITILLATED) It's vulgar. ALEX into her ear) Not against your skin. He starts to pleat her T-shirt loose from her jeans. She doesn't resist. They watch each other

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How many times the word 'seen' appears in the text?

Blood and Wine Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS BLOOD AND WINE Written by Nick Villiers SECOND DRAFT DECEMBER 12, 1994 FADE IN: A PAIR OF HANDS men's hands, nicely groomed, hold a small white terry towel spoiled by blood-red spots. The hands rinse the towel in a copper bar sink. The stains soften but stay. A tan jacket sleeve, spotted the same way, moves INTO FRAM. The hands dab the wet towel at the spots, with no more success, and throw it into the sink. It falls half in, still dripping the stains a drop at a time to the floor. ALL IN CLOSEUP The owner of the hands walks to a wine rack, opens a bottle of white wine, drizzles the wine on the jacket sleeve. The stains disappear. He hangs his jacket on a hook and walks from THE CELLAR and up the narrow stairs. His FOOTFALLS ECHO against the unadorned cement block walls. We see his shape, mid- forties, powerful, his shirt pulled out. He's carrying the open bottle by the neck. 2 INT. WINE STORE - NIGHT Still seen from behind, the man emerges from the cellar into a contrastingly elegant space with a wood-beamed. ceiling, vaguely European. He walks along a narrow aisle of wooden diamond bins. As the space widens his foot hits something in his path. He bends to find a shoe. He glances about nervously. There are shutters on the storefront windows. Shoe in hand, he tightens the shutters. We see his profile, a good-looking man. He walks toward a brighter room at the back of the store, the Tasting Room. Now he retrieves a pair of women's trousers from the floor, and as he straightens up we see his entire face, genial, venial, redeemed by his smile. ALEX GATES. He speaks nonchalantly toward the room. ALEX Twenty people tonight. I got a South Beach widow, a plastic surgeon -- they actually came together. (A BEAT) These people -- all they really want is something to brag about at dinner parties. He swigs from the bottle of white wine, grimaces, detours behind the counter, and spits the mouthful into the plastic lined wastebasket. He throws the bottle away. (CONTINUED) 2. 2 2 CONTINUED: There's a basket of baguettes on the counter. Alex breaks off an end and chews it to rid his mouth of the taste of the wine. Still chewing, he walks toward the tasting room. ALEX There I was, passing the wine, passing the bread, I suddenly felt like the priest at Masst Or maybe Mass started out as a wine tasting, and Jesus was a salesman. what do you think? He goes into THE TASTING ROOM It seems empty except for a large wooden table, folding chairs in disarray, open bottles clustered at one end of the table. A chalkboard on the wall has CHATEAU BEYCHEVELLE written across it at the top, vintages listed underneath. The woman's voice that replies is Gabriella's. GABRIELLA (0.S.) (with a throaty laugh) Maybe I should get dressed. Leaning against the corner is a woman wearing only her panties and a shirt. In her mid-twenties she has striking South American looks. GABRIELLA VASQUEZ. She's sipping red wine from a plastic glass. GABRIETM I don't want to spoil a religious experience. ALEX -- Ever heard of Georges Duboeuf? He throws away some of the glasses. ALEX Duboeuf has a nose and a palate -- like a gift from God. He can taste a single grape before the harvest... and describe the beaujolais it's going to produce. She laughs. GABRIELLA Oh, you have competition. (CONTINUED) 3. 2 2 CONTINUED: (2) ALEX (SLIGHTLY ANNOYED) You know how many bottles I have in this store? Open any one of 'em, I'll tell you the vintage and vintner, b lindfolded. He bends down to pick up the chunks of baguette strewn on the floor. He doesn't see her slip off her panties. She walks behind him, twirling them into a tight band. She whips them over his eyes. He laughs. GABRIELLA Okay. Show me. ALEX Victoria's Secret 95. She passes her glass under his nose. ALEX Gabriella, I picked these wines. GABRIELLA So what is it? ALEX All I can smell is your perfume. She laughs. GABRIELLA I'm not wearing any. ALEX I even bought it for you. She opens her shirt. She's not wearing a bra. She lowers her breast to the glass and then to his mouth. GABRIELLA Tell me now. He kisses her wet breast. ALEX (WITHOUT HESITATION) Beychevelle '83. Lot of body. Very aggressive. He pulls off the panty blindfold, kisses her on the mouth softly, then fully. (CONTINUED) 4. 2 2 CONTINUED: (3) GABRIELLA (LOW) -- I lo e y u, Alex. V O 3 3 INT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT (LATER) Alex is unlocking the door for Gabriella. Dressed, she looks younger. They're awkward with each other. GABRIELLA Don't think you have to say it because .1 say it, Alex. (SMILING BRIGHTLY) Doesn't mean anything.. ALEX It means something to me. GABRIELLA (EASED) We're good together, aren't we. Alex lets out a breath. ALEX Oh, yeah... We're pretty good. He kisses her goodbye, unlocks the door. She goes out to her Honda Civic. Alex doesn't wait to see her drive off before he heads back to finish cleaning up the tasting room. 4 4 INT. TASTING ROOM - NIGHT Alex straightens the last chair and starts to extract air from the open bottles. He hears a quiet CLANK of METAL. Instantly alert, he reaches for his jacket and turns off the-light. 5 5 INT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT Behind the cash register Alex opens a drawer and takes out a revolver. ze thumbs the safety off. The NOISES RECUR, like someone trying to break in through the back door from the parking lot. Alex slings his jacket casually over the gun. 5. 6 6 EXT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT Alex throws open the back door; he's counting on the element of surprise. HIS POV His red Cadillac convertible is idling nose.to the chain locked across the parking lot. A MAN in his twenties, whose tropical shirt fairly glows under the security lights, is using a pair of bolt cutters on the chain. ALEX (ADVANCING) You think you're gonna steal my car, asshole? The younger man whirls around. YOUNG MAN You scared me, man. A middle-aged man, a REPO MAN, calls out lazily from behind the wheel. REPO MAN This is not your car, sir. This car belongs to the Star Leasing Company. Alex buries the gun in the rear of his waistband as though he's rubbing his stiff back and cranks his smile to a higher wattage than the security lights. REPO MAN I can collect either the money or the car. Given how much you owe, I figure it's the car. The younger man has almost hacked through the chain. ALEX Pop the. trunk. REPO MAN We inventory the property at the yard. He keeps his eye on the chain, ready to gun the engine as soon as the exit is clear. ALEX I just want to show you something. Worked by the combination of natural curiosity and Alex's charm; the repo man pops the trunk and gets out of the still-running car. (CONTINUED) 6. 6 6 CONTINUED: In his hand he has the locking "Club" Alex usually uses to secure his. steering wheel. He's not stupid. Amused, Alex takes a step back, palms up. YOUNG MAN What are you doing? The repo man ignores him and looks in the trunk. ALEX Do you drink? REPO MAN Not on the job. What is this, booze? ALEX Two cases of single malt whiskey aged in the barrel before he was born. REPO MAN The Caddy's overdue. ALEX So are you. Drink it with the kid. Teach him what smooth is. Enjoy yourselves. Isn't that worth a few days' breather... (A BEAT) My accountant's a fuck-up. So am I, maybe, for not firing him. The bolt cutters clip through. The chain falls. YOUNG MAN We're clear. 7 7 INT. CADILLAC - NIGHT Alex is driving fast, top down, Samba MUSIC loud on the STEREO. He keeps time on the wheel as the Miami skyline cruises by. EXT. CADILLAC - NIGHT Alex turns into the garage of an expensive condominium building before the gate has slid all the way open. The TIRES SQUEAL as he powers the car around the corner. (CONTINUED) 7. 8 8 CONTINUED: A DUCATI MOTORCYCLE hogs his space. Alex lays the car in tightly. He has to squeeze out the door. He bumps the Ducati. It starts to topple; he grabs it before it goes over. 9 9 INT. CONDO - NIGHT Alex lets himself in. The entry ALARM starts to BEEP. He turns it off and resets it. The light has been left on in the kitchen. 10 10 INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT JASON, a handsome, troubled 17-year-old with long, dark hair, is filing barbs off a pile of fishing hooks on the center island. He looks harder and wiser than his years. Tackle is strewn everywhere. Some spaghetti remains in the pot it was cooked in and Jason's knife is standing upright in it. Alex walks into the kitchen. He makes an effort to be pleasant, although he's irritated by the mess, by the motorcycle. ALEX It's late, Jason. JASON I'm going out tonight. Alex exhales. ALEX You can't'fish all night and work all day. JASON Working for you doesn't exactly tax my mind. ALEX No wonder you drop bottles. JASON Fire me. ALEX Do you do it on purpose? JASON Fishing bought me my bike. (CONTINUED) 8. 10 10 CONTINUED: ALEX I almost knocked it over trying to get out of the car. JASON (SARCASTIC) I wasn't sure you were coming home. SEVERS The TOASTER OVEN DINGS. Jason takes out a muffin, it in two with his fishing knife. ALEX Use a regular knife. JASON This has a better edge. Feel it (pointing it at Alex, BLADE FLAT) -- feel it. Their voices are rising. ALEX Pointed, it's a fucking weapon. Put it away. JASON Hell with you. Jason exits to the stairs. ALEX And keep your voice down. Your mother's asleep. STAIRS JASON If you got home on time once in a while, maybe she could skip the chemical help. Alex is also on the stairs. ALEX You have no idea, none, zip, what goes on in a marriage. JASON Yeah, well, I'm learning more than I want to. (CONTINUED)' 9. 10 10 CONTINUED: (2) LANDING UPSTAIRS SUZANNE (O .S=.. ) Now what are you arguing about? SUZANNE is a pretty young woman in her late thirties with a sense of humor and irony. She's chemically relaxed, but not stupefied. She pulls a robe around herself, modest in front of her son; and although her body's not spectacular, like Gabriella's, she has a trim. athletic build. JASON It's not an argument. ALEX I asked him to clean up downstairs. SUZANNE (SOOTHING ALEX) Maybe he hadn't finished- ALEX A modicum of cooperation, you know? JASON A modicum. What's that. Modicum my ass. He pushes past his mother toward his own room. Suzanne follows him down the hallway, leaving. Alex behind. SUZANNE I don't like that tone from: you. JASON Then go to bed. ALEX Hey! JASON (RIGHT BACK) What! SUZANNE It's too late for this. ALEX Jason has gone into his room. He slams the door. CHOOSES enters his bedroom. Suzanne, alone for a-moment, to enter Jason's room. 10. 11 11 INT. JASON'S ROOM SUZANNE He's my husband. JASON (SOFTLY) I know, Mom. SUZANNE -- I still love him. JASON Whatever. She walks out. 12 12 INT. BATHROOM - NIGHT Alex stands under water as hot as he can stand, parboiling himself. Eyes squeezed shut, he lets out a long breath. His life demands more energy than he has anymore. He soaps himself thoroughly. 13 13 INT. MASTER BEDROOM - NIGHT Suzanne hears the front DOOR SLAM. Jason's DUCATI STARTS UP and ACCELERATES away. Alex comes out of the bathroom in a towel. SUZANNE (FONDLY) Lie down, I'll give you a back rub. She stumbles slightly against the bed, catches a bed post for balance, flops back on the bed with a laugh. SUZANNE -- maybe I'd better lie down. He bends down to kiss her, then heads for the television. Suzanne props herself up on her elbows. He pops a cassette into the VCR: porno, she assumes. She does her best. SUZANNE I liked the twin nurses. There was kind of a story. Alex brings the remote control back to bed. ALEX You'll like this one better. (CONTINUED) 11. 13 13 CONTINUED: He hangs his towel on a doorknob, slides into bed, starts the tape, which begins with sweat-slick dancing girls at Carnival. To Suzanne's astonishment, it turns out to be a travelog. SUZANNE Rio? ALEX I've been so busy. We could sneak away for a week.. Would you like that? SUZANNE If we really go. Last time I packed, we went nowhere. ALEX (SLEEPILY) Last time was different. SUZANNE (watching the tape) The beaches -- I thought we had a beach. I read how the hotels keep spotters on the roof with scopes, to keep thieves away from the guests. They can look at every inch of your body through the scope. (with a low laugh) Do you mind that I like that? Alex? He has fallen asleep. Tenderly she draws the sheet to his shoulder and settles down to watch the rest of the tape. DISSOLVE TO: 14 EXT. BOAT - DAWN 14 On the flying bridge of an old fishing boat, Jason eases the throttle to idle speed. The engine quiets down. The SWELLS SLAP harder against the wooden sides. The boat dips and dances to the music of the water. Jason swings down the ladder. He sets up his linis to troll. The starry dome of the sky is starting to brighten around its rim. Jason leans on the transom and stares at the flat, silvery wedge of wake. He breathes out a word. JASON :. Bite... (CONTINUED) 12. 14 14 CONTINUED: Nothing happens. He doesn't move. Then the top of one of the rods shivers slightly, goes still. Jason delicately fingers the rod like a blind man reading Braille, to feel for vibration. A smile pulls at his mouth. He steps behind the rod. The fish hits. JASON (CALLING OUT) Henryl Fish ont The line screams out. Jason's ready. He sets the hook. JASON Time to go to work, man! C'mon. A tall, black drifter appears from-below, still yawning, scratching. HENRY, 33. He wears a red Panama hat that's weathered his head for some time. HENRY Who we got? JASON Let's find out. He hauls back on the rod, the line rises from the ocean, they both recognize the fish at the end. HENRY Fucking sharks. Miami's fished out of the good stuff. Damn. He spits over the side. Jason grins. JASON This one's got more to worry about than you do. He starts to reel in the fish. Henry moves to the wheel.- HENRY Just shoot 'Jaws' in the water. I want to know the sucker's good and dead 'fore he sets a fin in my boat. You got a barb on that hook? . JASON Oh, yeah. Jason braces for the fight. 13. 15 15 EXT. DOCK - MORNING Jason and Henry are cutting the shark with the speed and dexterity of professionals. HENRY The Gulf, man, that's the place. And what makes you think fifty-fifty is right? My boat. My gas. JASON My skill. (slicing off the fins) ... My fins. 16 16 EXT. FISH MARKET - LONG SHOT - MORNING Jason and Henry slap their catch onto the Fishmonger's slippery counter. The market's noisy, men shouting. We see the negotiation from a distance. 17 EXT. DOCK - DAY (MINUTES LATE) 17 Jason and Henry walk through the hubbub. HENRY You cool? JASON I'm cool. HENRY We cool. Jason guns his Ducati. 18 INT. WINE STORE - DAY 18 Alex comes out of his office. ALEX Rob, has Jason shown up? A man's French-accented VOICE answers him from the store. ROBERT (O.S.) Not yet. ALEX You have his paycheck there? ROBERT All ready. (CONTINUED) 14. 18 18 CONTINUED: Alex takes it, and rips it up. 19 19 INT. CHINESE RESTAURANT - DAY The Chinese CHEF in the busy, steamy kitchen is inspecting the shark fins Jason has brought him. Jason is anxious to finish business and go. CHEF You no like my company? Fine. Who cares. Bring me more fin, you retire. You no want to retire? Good. Don't charge starving Chinese so much for these things. JASON You ever caught a shark? CHEF (BIGGER) You ever cook one? JASON Lemme -- lemme show you something. Jason pulls up the sleeve of his denim jacket to display a fresh gash across his arm. JASON He was already gaffed onto the side of the boat, good as dead. Two hours dead! And I was still too close to the mouth. Revenge is the last instinct to go, did you know that? The chef shrugs and shows his thumb, missing a joint. CHEF -- Work's a dangerous thing. (smiling with lots of TEETH) Nice fin, Jason. He tosses the fins in a cauldron of boiling water, slaps the CASH REGISTER on the side. It RINGS. 20 20 EXT. RESTAURANT - DAY Jason jams on his helmet and starts his. motorcycle, guns it down the street. (CONTINUED) 15. 20 20 CONTINUED: MIAMI SKYLINE Jason weaves through traffic, expert enough to take chances that goose the adrenalin. 21 21 EXT. WINE SHOP - DAY Robert and Alex are loading cases of wine into the trunk of the Caddy when Jason skids into the parking lot. He takes off his helmet. ALEX Just get in the car. 22 22 INT. CADILLAC - DAY (TRAVELING) Jason has fallen asleep while Alex drives. Alex picks up Jason's hand. Jerking awake, Jason tries to pull away, but his reflexes are sleep-slowed. Alex sniffs Jason's fingers, wrinkles his nose, lets Jason have his hand back. ALEX You stink. JASON I washed. ALEX There's Wash IN Dries in the glove compartment. Jason opens the compartment, finds the packets, opens one, rubs his hands. ALEX ... I'm trying here, Jason -- I really am. When you didn't want to go to college, I took your side, I said fine -- I mean, I -didn't finish college, and I've done all right. I gave you a job', a steady check, which is more than anybody else has done. And what do I get back? Shit. I've tried to teach you the business -- the care, the finesse... Jason laughs dismissively. (CONTINUED) 16. 22 22 CONTINUED: ALEX Well, look at it this way, Jason, someday you'll have your boat and I'll have my vineyard, and the best part '11 be they're nowhere near each other. JASON (SATISFIED) I'll send you a Christmas card. ALEX Save the stamp. They turn into the driveway to an expensive development. 23 23 EXT. SECURITY BOOTH, CORAL GABLES - DAY The Cadillac rolls to a stop at the ate. A tough, but amicable-looking armed guard in his forties, MIKE, opens the window of the air-conditioned booth. His RADIO is tuned to the FOOTBALL GAME. ALEX Hi, mike -- what's the score? MIKE (CHECKING THE APPOINTMENT BOARD) Dolphins down by nine, minute forty to go. It's over. ALEX Don't underestimate Marino. Mike ticks off the appointment, raises the gate. MIKE I told you, they don't have it this year. With a wave of acknowledgment for Mike, Alex.. drives onto the grounds. ALEX (YELLING BACK) Judas! Grinning, Mike routinely writes down the license plate number. 17. 24 24 EXT. CADILLAC - DAY Alex cruises past a collection of oversized villas, and turns into the driveway of the gaudiest. He and Jason climb out of the car. Alex opens the trunk. He loads two wine cases into Jason's arms, takes the third himself. They haven't said a word to each other. 25 25 EXT. VILLA - DAY Alex rings the intercom with his elbow. Gabriella's VOICE CRACKLES in response. GABRIELLA (V.O.) on the intercom) Who is it? ALEX Wine delivery. The INTERCOM CLICKS off. They hear FOOTSTEPS approaching. The door opens. Jason's eyes focus. He's hooked. Gabriella is smiling at Alex. She has her arms full of clean burp cloths. GABRIELLA Oh, the boss himself! ALEX (with a modest chuckle) How are you? She glances politely toward Jason, not at all expecting what she sees. A circuit connects between them. ALEX Gabriella takes care of Baby Reese. (TO GABRIELLA) This is my stepson, Jason. GABRIELLA (VERY CORRECT) How do you do. JASON Hi. GABRIELLA Is the wine for the boat? Come through the house. 18. 26 26 INT./EXT. VILLA - DAY They follow her inside. Jason takes in the richness of the place, but is more focussed on Gabriella. They exit TO T he lawn which leads to a dock. 27 27 EXT. REESES' BOAT DAY A sleek, ocean-going yacht is tied up at the dock, the crew unobtrusively at work. FRANK REESE, a powerful, confidant man in his mid-sixties, is sitting with his INSURANCE AGENT at a table on deck where policies are spread out next to a jewelry box. Reese's expensive 35- year-old wife DINA has turned her chair to sun her legs while she plays with the BABY. DINA -- what's the point of having it, if I can't wear it, Frank? AGENT (DEFERENTIALLY) You can wear it anywhere you like, Mrs. Reese -- except out of the country. Gabriella leads Alex and Jason aboard. Frank likes Alex and is glad to see him. Alex can't help glancing at Dina's long legs.. She smiles. FRANK Alex, should we insure the wine while we're at it? His arms tired,'Alex is happy to set down the case. ALEX Aren't you covered on your home policy? GABRIELLA (TO JASON) I'll show you, come on. AGENT How much wine are we talking about? Jason follows Gabriella down below, the VOICES on the deck fading. DINA (O.S.) Why bother insuring it? Let's drink it instead. 19. 28 28 INT. BOAT - DAY It's quiet inside, not tasteful but impressive, like everything else of the Reeses. Jason takes a stab at conversation. JASON Big boat. Gabriella laughs and looks over her shoulder at him. They're both kids. GABRIELLA ugly, isn't it. He grins and relaxes, looks around. JASON The fittings are definitely -- yeah on the ugly side. But damn, she's solid. GABRIELLA Oh, a boat type. JASON (proud, defensive) I like.boats. Gabriella shows him the climatized, built-in wine closet next to the galley. He starts to rack the bottles while she watches. He talks to stop her from leaving. JASON So where you headed? GABRIELLA I'm not going, 'I can't go. JASON They don't want to take the baby. GABRIELLA I don't have a green card, I can't leave the country. Baby goes with an American nurse. I house-sit. It's fine. JASON You don't like them. Gabriella laughs. (CONTINUED) 20. 28 28 CONTINUED: GABRIELLA God. I'm obvious. I just don't like working for people, but that's life. He chafes under authority the same way she does. JASON Doesn't have to be. GABRIELLA Maybe not with a rich stepfather. He laughs. JASON Worst kind. GABRIELLA (CORRECTIVELY) No. (A BEAT) You don't appreciate what you have, Jason. It's very poor where I came from. JASON Where's that? GABRIELLA Venezuela. Do I look it? JASON I don't know, I never been there. GABRIELLA Well, I don't. My mother's Indian. The India kind of Indian. (LAUGHS) Imagine a house where the father asks 'What's for dinner' in Spanish, and the mother answers 'Curry' in Hindi. 'Que hay para cenar' she says, 'Murgee, masala, ghaal.' He says, 'No es importante.' No wonder I'm nuts. JASON You don't seem too nuts. She laughs. GABRIELLA You don't know mel (OOR1TINUED ) 21. 28 CONTINUED: .( 2) 28 They're suddenly both very aware that they're alone together. 29 29 EXT. BOAT, THE DECK - DAY The agent is putting a magnificent diamond necklace in a velvet pouch that he fastidiously cinches and ties. Alex looks away from it to take a bottle out of the remaining case on deck. AGENT -- so back to the safe it goes -- Dina lifts up the baby and smells its bottom. FRANK Dina, that's disgusting. DINA The alternative is using your fingers, Frank. which offends you more? Alex laughs. Frank pushes back his chair. FRANK Don't encourage her, Alex. Her mouth is big enough. Dina is hurt. FRANK (to the agent) I'll show you that painting in our stateroom. The agent follows him away. ALEX (kindly; to Dina) Do you want to see the label? She hides her hurt by not looking at him. DINA Just open the bottle, Alex. Pour us both a glass. I'm not allowed to drink alone. When she turns her head and looks at him, she's flirting. 22. 30 30 INT. BOAT - DAY Jason has almost finished storing the wine. Gabriella is sitting on a bar stool at the galley,. listening to him, snared by the quiet passion in his voice. JASON -- when you're skimming along the water, nothing between you and the bottom of the sea but a layer of wood, your thoughts... end. All that noise inside your head? Gabriella nods, understanding exactly. JASON . . . Stops. Dina's VOICE booms over the INTERCOM, startling both of them. The BABY is FUSSING. Gabriella makes a gesture of apology to Jason. DINA (V.O.) Gabriella? Are you down there? GABRIELLA Yes, Mrs. Reese. DINA (V.0.) The baby needs you. And bring a pacifier for Frank. GABRIELLA Right there. She slides off the stool. JASON You should come out with me sometime. She smiles without answering and goes topside. His eyes follow her. A Deckhand comes down the ladder with the remaining case of wine for him to stock. 31 EXT. BOAT - DAY 31 Gabriella. lifts the fussy baby from Dina, her hands sure and calming. She coos nonsense to his little ear as she- reaches for the diaper bag and slings it over her arm. GABRIELLA He.'s ready for his nap. (CONTINUED) 23. 31 31 CONTINUED: Frank and the agent return from another section of the boat. FRANK You doing up to the house, Gabriella? (off her nod) Want to take this with you? He sweeps the policies into a large manila envelope, drops the 'pouch in with them, ties the string, hands it to her. FRANK Put it on my desk. He looks at his wife with her glass, Alex with his glass, and doesn't like it. His voice hardens slightly. FRANK Are we all set, Alex? ALEX I'm going to check the storage room, see what else'll travel. I know I put some vintage Armagnac in there, maybe some Porto? He heads down the gangplank. FRANK He's a vendor, Dina. It's like drinking with the help. DINA (DISARMING HIM) Did you pick the wine, sweetie? It's lovely. Frank grins, pleased. His hand curves around her shoulder. He has forgotten about the other vendor present, the agent. AGENT (AWKWARDLY) So I'll messenger over the rider for your signature -- Frank laughs out loud, in a better mood: FRANK -- You still here? Dina laughs, too. 24. 32 32 INT. VILLA, UPSTAIRS - DAY Gabriella settles the baby on his side, the only Reese she likes. She starts to close the shutters. Lullaby MUSIC is playing on the baby's TAPE DECK. IN THE HALLWAY She closes the nursery door as softly as possible. A man's hands go around her throat. Her gasp dies stillborn. It's Alex, kissing her.ear, holding Dina's diamond necklace to her neck. ALEX (MURMURING) Did he ever come on to you? GABRIELLA (ANGRY) Don't sneak up on me that way! ALEX Look how beautiful you are. He's an idiot if he didn't. Now she sees the necklace. GABRIELLA What are you doing? She snatches the necklace away from him and fairly runs down the hall to Frank's study. IN THE STUDY She tries td stuff it in the pouch. Alex is right behind her. GABRIELLA You're going to get me fired and deported. ALEX Just put it on for a minute. Look at yourself. She slaps at his hands half-heartedly, but it's so tempting. ALEX See what you deserve. GABRIELLA (SUCCUMBING) We're both crazy. (CONTINUED) 25. 32 32 CONTINUED: Alex moves her hair away. She lets him hook the necklace around her neck. He reaches over to open the closet door, fitted out now as a file cabinet, but with the original closet mirror still in place. The safe is visible. Gabriella stares at her reflection, Alex behind her, watching her. The necklace changes her posture. She angles her chin slightly, twists back her hair. Diamonds suit her. GABRIELLA (TITILLATED) It's vulgar. ALEX into her ear) Not against your skin. He starts to pleat her T-shirt loose from her jeans. She doesn't resist. They watch each other

rid

How many times the word 'rid' appears in the text?

Blood and Wine Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS BLOOD AND WINE Written by Nick Villiers SECOND DRAFT DECEMBER 12, 1994 FADE IN: A PAIR OF HANDS men's hands, nicely groomed, hold a small white terry towel spoiled by blood-red spots. The hands rinse the towel in a copper bar sink. The stains soften but stay. A tan jacket sleeve, spotted the same way, moves INTO FRAM. The hands dab the wet towel at the spots, with no more success, and throw it into the sink. It falls half in, still dripping the stains a drop at a time to the floor. ALL IN CLOSEUP The owner of the hands walks to a wine rack, opens a bottle of white wine, drizzles the wine on the jacket sleeve. The stains disappear. He hangs his jacket on a hook and walks from THE CELLAR and up the narrow stairs. His FOOTFALLS ECHO against the unadorned cement block walls. We see his shape, mid- forties, powerful, his shirt pulled out. He's carrying the open bottle by the neck. 2 INT. WINE STORE - NIGHT Still seen from behind, the man emerges from the cellar into a contrastingly elegant space with a wood-beamed. ceiling, vaguely European. He walks along a narrow aisle of wooden diamond bins. As the space widens his foot hits something in his path. He bends to find a shoe. He glances about nervously. There are shutters on the storefront windows. Shoe in hand, he tightens the shutters. We see his profile, a good-looking man. He walks toward a brighter room at the back of the store, the Tasting Room. Now he retrieves a pair of women's trousers from the floor, and as he straightens up we see his entire face, genial, venial, redeemed by his smile. ALEX GATES. He speaks nonchalantly toward the room. ALEX Twenty people tonight. I got a South Beach widow, a plastic surgeon -- they actually came together. (A BEAT) These people -- all they really want is something to brag about at dinner parties. He swigs from the bottle of white wine, grimaces, detours behind the counter, and spits the mouthful into the plastic lined wastebasket. He throws the bottle away. (CONTINUED) 2. 2 2 CONTINUED: There's a basket of baguettes on the counter. Alex breaks off an end and chews it to rid his mouth of the taste of the wine. Still chewing, he walks toward the tasting room. ALEX There I was, passing the wine, passing the bread, I suddenly felt like the priest at Masst Or maybe Mass started out as a wine tasting, and Jesus was a salesman. what do you think? He goes into THE TASTING ROOM It seems empty except for a large wooden table, folding chairs in disarray, open bottles clustered at one end of the table. A chalkboard on the wall has CHATEAU BEYCHEVELLE written across it at the top, vintages listed underneath. The woman's voice that replies is Gabriella's. GABRIELLA (0.S.) (with a throaty laugh) Maybe I should get dressed. Leaning against the corner is a woman wearing only her panties and a shirt. In her mid-twenties she has striking South American looks. GABRIELLA VASQUEZ. She's sipping red wine from a plastic glass. GABRIETM I don't want to spoil a religious experience. ALEX -- Ever heard of Georges Duboeuf? He throws away some of the glasses. ALEX Duboeuf has a nose and a palate -- like a gift from God. He can taste a single grape before the harvest... and describe the beaujolais it's going to produce. She laughs. GABRIELLA Oh, you have competition. (CONTINUED) 3. 2 2 CONTINUED: (2) ALEX (SLIGHTLY ANNOYED) You know how many bottles I have in this store? Open any one of 'em, I'll tell you the vintage and vintner, b lindfolded. He bends down to pick up the chunks of baguette strewn on the floor. He doesn't see her slip off her panties. She walks behind him, twirling them into a tight band. She whips them over his eyes. He laughs. GABRIELLA Okay. Show me. ALEX Victoria's Secret 95. She passes her glass under his nose. ALEX Gabriella, I picked these wines. GABRIELLA So what is it? ALEX All I can smell is your perfume. She laughs. GABRIELLA I'm not wearing any. ALEX I even bought it for you. She opens her shirt. She's not wearing a bra. She lowers her breast to the glass and then to his mouth. GABRIELLA Tell me now. He kisses her wet breast. ALEX (WITHOUT HESITATION) Beychevelle '83. Lot of body. Very aggressive. He pulls off the panty blindfold, kisses her on the mouth softly, then fully. (CONTINUED) 4. 2 2 CONTINUED: (3) GABRIELLA (LOW) -- I lo e y u, Alex. V O 3 3 INT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT (LATER) Alex is unlocking the door for Gabriella. Dressed, she looks younger. They're awkward with each other. GABRIELLA Don't think you have to say it because .1 say it, Alex. (SMILING BRIGHTLY) Doesn't mean anything.. ALEX It means something to me. GABRIELLA (EASED) We're good together, aren't we. Alex lets out a breath. ALEX Oh, yeah... We're pretty good. He kisses her goodbye, unlocks the door. She goes out to her Honda Civic. Alex doesn't wait to see her drive off before he heads back to finish cleaning up the tasting room. 4 4 INT. TASTING ROOM - NIGHT Alex straightens the last chair and starts to extract air from the open bottles. He hears a quiet CLANK of METAL. Instantly alert, he reaches for his jacket and turns off the-light. 5 5 INT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT Behind the cash register Alex opens a drawer and takes out a revolver. ze thumbs the safety off. The NOISES RECUR, like someone trying to break in through the back door from the parking lot. Alex slings his jacket casually over the gun. 5. 6 6 EXT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT Alex throws open the back door; he's counting on the element of surprise. HIS POV His red Cadillac convertible is idling nose.to the chain locked across the parking lot. A MAN in his twenties, whose tropical shirt fairly glows under the security lights, is using a pair of bolt cutters on the chain. ALEX (ADVANCING) You think you're gonna steal my car, asshole? The younger man whirls around. YOUNG MAN You scared me, man. A middle-aged man, a REPO MAN, calls out lazily from behind the wheel. REPO MAN This is not your car, sir. This car belongs to the Star Leasing Company. Alex buries the gun in the rear of his waistband as though he's rubbing his stiff back and cranks his smile to a higher wattage than the security lights. REPO MAN I can collect either the money or the car. Given how much you owe, I figure it's the car. The younger man has almost hacked through the chain. ALEX Pop the. trunk. REPO MAN We inventory the property at the yard. He keeps his eye on the chain, ready to gun the engine as soon as the exit is clear. ALEX I just want to show you something. Worked by the combination of natural curiosity and Alex's charm; the repo man pops the trunk and gets out of the still-running car. (CONTINUED) 6. 6 6 CONTINUED: In his hand he has the locking "Club" Alex usually uses to secure his. steering wheel. He's not stupid. Amused, Alex takes a step back, palms up. YOUNG MAN What are you doing? The repo man ignores him and looks in the trunk. ALEX Do you drink? REPO MAN Not on the job. What is this, booze? ALEX Two cases of single malt whiskey aged in the barrel before he was born. REPO MAN The Caddy's overdue. ALEX So are you. Drink it with the kid. Teach him what smooth is. Enjoy yourselves. Isn't that worth a few days' breather... (A BEAT) My accountant's a fuck-up. So am I, maybe, for not firing him. The bolt cutters clip through. The chain falls. YOUNG MAN We're clear. 7 7 INT. CADILLAC - NIGHT Alex is driving fast, top down, Samba MUSIC loud on the STEREO. He keeps time on the wheel as the Miami skyline cruises by. EXT. CADILLAC - NIGHT Alex turns into the garage of an expensive condominium building before the gate has slid all the way open. The TIRES SQUEAL as he powers the car around the corner. (CONTINUED) 7. 8 8 CONTINUED: A DUCATI MOTORCYCLE hogs his space. Alex lays the car in tightly. He has to squeeze out the door. He bumps the Ducati. It starts to topple; he grabs it before it goes over. 9 9 INT. CONDO - NIGHT Alex lets himself in. The entry ALARM starts to BEEP. He turns it off and resets it. The light has been left on in the kitchen. 10 10 INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT JASON, a handsome, troubled 17-year-old with long, dark hair, is filing barbs off a pile of fishing hooks on the center island. He looks harder and wiser than his years. Tackle is strewn everywhere. Some spaghetti remains in the pot it was cooked in and Jason's knife is standing upright in it. Alex walks into the kitchen. He makes an effort to be pleasant, although he's irritated by the mess, by the motorcycle. ALEX It's late, Jason. JASON I'm going out tonight. Alex exhales. ALEX You can't'fish all night and work all day. JASON Working for you doesn't exactly tax my mind. ALEX No wonder you drop bottles. JASON Fire me. ALEX Do you do it on purpose? JASON Fishing bought me my bike. (CONTINUED) 8. 10 10 CONTINUED: ALEX I almost knocked it over trying to get out of the car. JASON (SARCASTIC) I wasn't sure you were coming home. SEVERS The TOASTER OVEN DINGS. Jason takes out a muffin, it in two with his fishing knife. ALEX Use a regular knife. JASON This has a better edge. Feel it (pointing it at Alex, BLADE FLAT) -- feel it. Their voices are rising. ALEX Pointed, it's a fucking weapon. Put it away. JASON Hell with you. Jason exits to the stairs. ALEX And keep your voice down. Your mother's asleep. STAIRS JASON If you got home on time once in a while, maybe she could skip the chemical help. Alex is also on the stairs. ALEX You have no idea, none, zip, what goes on in a marriage. JASON Yeah, well, I'm learning more than I want to. (CONTINUED)' 9. 10 10 CONTINUED: (2) LANDING UPSTAIRS SUZANNE (O .S=.. ) Now what are you arguing about? SUZANNE is a pretty young woman in her late thirties with a sense of humor and irony. She's chemically relaxed, but not stupefied. She pulls a robe around herself, modest in front of her son; and although her body's not spectacular, like Gabriella's, she has a trim. athletic build. JASON It's not an argument. ALEX I asked him to clean up downstairs. SUZANNE (SOOTHING ALEX) Maybe he hadn't finished- ALEX A modicum of cooperation, you know? JASON A modicum. What's that. Modicum my ass. He pushes past his mother toward his own room. Suzanne follows him down the hallway, leaving. Alex behind. SUZANNE I don't like that tone from: you. JASON Then go to bed. ALEX Hey! JASON (RIGHT BACK) What! SUZANNE It's too late for this. ALEX Jason has gone into his room. He slams the door. CHOOSES enters his bedroom. Suzanne, alone for a-moment, to enter Jason's room. 10. 11 11 INT. JASON'S ROOM SUZANNE He's my husband. JASON (SOFTLY) I know, Mom. SUZANNE -- I still love him. JASON Whatever. She walks out. 12 12 INT. BATHROOM - NIGHT Alex stands under water as hot as he can stand, parboiling himself. Eyes squeezed shut, he lets out a long breath. His life demands more energy than he has anymore. He soaps himself thoroughly. 13 13 INT. MASTER BEDROOM - NIGHT Suzanne hears the front DOOR SLAM. Jason's DUCATI STARTS UP and ACCELERATES away. Alex comes out of the bathroom in a towel. SUZANNE (FONDLY) Lie down, I'll give you a back rub. She stumbles slightly against the bed, catches a bed post for balance, flops back on the bed with a laugh. SUZANNE -- maybe I'd better lie down. He bends down to kiss her, then heads for the television. Suzanne props herself up on her elbows. He pops a cassette into the VCR: porno, she assumes. She does her best. SUZANNE I liked the twin nurses. There was kind of a story. Alex brings the remote control back to bed. ALEX You'll like this one better. (CONTINUED) 11. 13 13 CONTINUED: He hangs his towel on a doorknob, slides into bed, starts the tape, which begins with sweat-slick dancing girls at Carnival. To Suzanne's astonishment, it turns out to be a travelog. SUZANNE Rio? ALEX I've been so busy. We could sneak away for a week.. Would you like that? SUZANNE If we really go. Last time I packed, we went nowhere. ALEX (SLEEPILY) Last time was different. SUZANNE (watching the tape) The beaches -- I thought we had a beach. I read how the hotels keep spotters on the roof with scopes, to keep thieves away from the guests. They can look at every inch of your body through the scope. (with a low laugh) Do you mind that I like that? Alex? He has fallen asleep. Tenderly she draws the sheet to his shoulder and settles down to watch the rest of the tape. DISSOLVE TO: 14 EXT. BOAT - DAWN 14 On the flying bridge of an old fishing boat, Jason eases the throttle to idle speed. The engine quiets down. The SWELLS SLAP harder against the wooden sides. The boat dips and dances to the music of the water. Jason swings down the ladder. He sets up his linis to troll. The starry dome of the sky is starting to brighten around its rim. Jason leans on the transom and stares at the flat, silvery wedge of wake. He breathes out a word. JASON :. Bite... (CONTINUED) 12. 14 14 CONTINUED: Nothing happens. He doesn't move. Then the top of one of the rods shivers slightly, goes still. Jason delicately fingers the rod like a blind man reading Braille, to feel for vibration. A smile pulls at his mouth. He steps behind the rod. The fish hits. JASON (CALLING OUT) Henryl Fish ont The line screams out. Jason's ready. He sets the hook. JASON Time to go to work, man! C'mon. A tall, black drifter appears from-below, still yawning, scratching. HENRY, 33. He wears a red Panama hat that's weathered his head for some time. HENRY Who we got? JASON Let's find out. He hauls back on the rod, the line rises from the ocean, they both recognize the fish at the end. HENRY Fucking sharks. Miami's fished out of the good stuff. Damn. He spits over the side. Jason grins. JASON This one's got more to worry about than you do. He starts to reel in the fish. Henry moves to the wheel.- HENRY Just shoot 'Jaws' in the water. I want to know the sucker's good and dead 'fore he sets a fin in my boat. You got a barb on that hook? . JASON Oh, yeah. Jason braces for the fight. 13. 15 15 EXT. DOCK - MORNING Jason and Henry are cutting the shark with the speed and dexterity of professionals. HENRY The Gulf, man, that's the place. And what makes you think fifty-fifty is right? My boat. My gas. JASON My skill. (slicing off the fins) ... My fins. 16 16 EXT. FISH MARKET - LONG SHOT - MORNING Jason and Henry slap their catch onto the Fishmonger's slippery counter. The market's noisy, men shouting. We see the negotiation from a distance. 17 EXT. DOCK - DAY (MINUTES LATE) 17 Jason and Henry walk through the hubbub. HENRY You cool? JASON I'm cool. HENRY We cool. Jason guns his Ducati. 18 INT. WINE STORE - DAY 18 Alex comes out of his office. ALEX Rob, has Jason shown up? A man's French-accented VOICE answers him from the store. ROBERT (O.S.) Not yet. ALEX You have his paycheck there? ROBERT All ready. (CONTINUED) 14. 18 18 CONTINUED: Alex takes it, and rips it up. 19 19 INT. CHINESE RESTAURANT - DAY The Chinese CHEF in the busy, steamy kitchen is inspecting the shark fins Jason has brought him. Jason is anxious to finish business and go. CHEF You no like my company? Fine. Who cares. Bring me more fin, you retire. You no want to retire? Good. Don't charge starving Chinese so much for these things. JASON You ever caught a shark? CHEF (BIGGER) You ever cook one? JASON Lemme -- lemme show you something. Jason pulls up the sleeve of his denim jacket to display a fresh gash across his arm. JASON He was already gaffed onto the side of the boat, good as dead. Two hours dead! And I was still too close to the mouth. Revenge is the last instinct to go, did you know that? The chef shrugs and shows his thumb, missing a joint. CHEF -- Work's a dangerous thing. (smiling with lots of TEETH) Nice fin, Jason. He tosses the fins in a cauldron of boiling water, slaps the CASH REGISTER on the side. It RINGS. 20 20 EXT. RESTAURANT - DAY Jason jams on his helmet and starts his. motorcycle, guns it down the street. (CONTINUED) 15. 20 20 CONTINUED: MIAMI SKYLINE Jason weaves through traffic, expert enough to take chances that goose the adrenalin. 21 21 EXT. WINE SHOP - DAY Robert and Alex are loading cases of wine into the trunk of the Caddy when Jason skids into the parking lot. He takes off his helmet. ALEX Just get in the car. 22 22 INT. CADILLAC - DAY (TRAVELING) Jason has fallen asleep while Alex drives. Alex picks up Jason's hand. Jerking awake, Jason tries to pull away, but his reflexes are sleep-slowed. Alex sniffs Jason's fingers, wrinkles his nose, lets Jason have his hand back. ALEX You stink. JASON I washed. ALEX There's Wash IN Dries in the glove compartment. Jason opens the compartment, finds the packets, opens one, rubs his hands. ALEX ... I'm trying here, Jason -- I really am. When you didn't want to go to college, I took your side, I said fine -- I mean, I -didn't finish college, and I've done all right. I gave you a job', a steady check, which is more than anybody else has done. And what do I get back? Shit. I've tried to teach you the business -- the care, the finesse... Jason laughs dismissively. (CONTINUED) 16. 22 22 CONTINUED: ALEX Well, look at it this way, Jason, someday you'll have your boat and I'll have my vineyard, and the best part '11 be they're nowhere near each other. JASON (SATISFIED) I'll send you a Christmas card. ALEX Save the stamp. They turn into the driveway to an expensive development. 23 23 EXT. SECURITY BOOTH, CORAL GABLES - DAY The Cadillac rolls to a stop at the ate. A tough, but amicable-looking armed guard in his forties, MIKE, opens the window of the air-conditioned booth. His RADIO is tuned to the FOOTBALL GAME. ALEX Hi, mike -- what's the score? MIKE (CHECKING THE APPOINTMENT BOARD) Dolphins down by nine, minute forty to go. It's over. ALEX Don't underestimate Marino. Mike ticks off the appointment, raises the gate. MIKE I told you, they don't have it this year. With a wave of acknowledgment for Mike, Alex.. drives onto the grounds. ALEX (YELLING BACK) Judas! Grinning, Mike routinely writes down the license plate number. 17. 24 24 EXT. CADILLAC - DAY Alex cruises past a collection of oversized villas, and turns into the driveway of the gaudiest. He and Jason climb out of the car. Alex opens the trunk. He loads two wine cases into Jason's arms, takes the third himself. They haven't said a word to each other. 25 25 EXT. VILLA - DAY Alex rings the intercom with his elbow. Gabriella's VOICE CRACKLES in response. GABRIELLA (V.O.) on the intercom) Who is it? ALEX Wine delivery. The INTERCOM CLICKS off. They hear FOOTSTEPS approaching. The door opens. Jason's eyes focus. He's hooked. Gabriella is smiling at Alex. She has her arms full of clean burp cloths. GABRIELLA Oh, the boss himself! ALEX (with a modest chuckle) How are you? She glances politely toward Jason, not at all expecting what she sees. A circuit connects between them. ALEX Gabriella takes care of Baby Reese. (TO GABRIELLA) This is my stepson, Jason. GABRIELLA (VERY CORRECT) How do you do. JASON Hi. GABRIELLA Is the wine for the boat? Come through the house. 18. 26 26 INT./EXT. VILLA - DAY They follow her inside. Jason takes in the richness of the place, but is more focussed on Gabriella. They exit TO T he lawn which leads to a dock. 27 27 EXT. REESES' BOAT DAY A sleek, ocean-going yacht is tied up at the dock, the crew unobtrusively at work. FRANK REESE, a powerful, confidant man in his mid-sixties, is sitting with his INSURANCE AGENT at a table on deck where policies are spread out next to a jewelry box. Reese's expensive 35- year-old wife DINA has turned her chair to sun her legs while she plays with the BABY. DINA -- what's the point of having it, if I can't wear it, Frank? AGENT (DEFERENTIALLY) You can wear it anywhere you like, Mrs. Reese -- except out of the country. Gabriella leads Alex and Jason aboard. Frank likes Alex and is glad to see him. Alex can't help glancing at Dina's long legs.. She smiles. FRANK Alex, should we insure the wine while we're at it? His arms tired,'Alex is happy to set down the case. ALEX Aren't you covered on your home policy? GABRIELLA (TO JASON) I'll show you, come on. AGENT How much wine are we talking about? Jason follows Gabriella down below, the VOICES on the deck fading. DINA (O.S.) Why bother insuring it? Let's drink it instead. 19. 28 28 INT. BOAT - DAY It's quiet inside, not tasteful but impressive, like everything else of the Reeses. Jason takes a stab at conversation. JASON Big boat. Gabriella laughs and looks over her shoulder at him. They're both kids. GABRIELLA ugly, isn't it. He grins and relaxes, looks around. JASON The fittings are definitely -- yeah on the ugly side. But damn, she's solid. GABRIELLA Oh, a boat type. JASON (proud, defensive) I like.boats. Gabriella shows him the climatized, built-in wine closet next to the galley. He starts to rack the bottles while she watches. He talks to stop her from leaving. JASON So where you headed? GABRIELLA I'm not going, 'I can't go. JASON They don't want to take the baby. GABRIELLA I don't have a green card, I can't leave the country. Baby goes with an American nurse. I house-sit. It's fine. JASON You don't like them. Gabriella laughs. (CONTINUED) 20. 28 28 CONTINUED: GABRIELLA God. I'm obvious. I just don't like working for people, but that's life. He chafes under authority the same way she does. JASON Doesn't have to be. GABRIELLA Maybe not with a rich stepfather. He laughs. JASON Worst kind. GABRIELLA (CORRECTIVELY) No. (A BEAT) You don't appreciate what you have, Jason. It's very poor where I came from. JASON Where's that? GABRIELLA Venezuela. Do I look it? JASON I don't know, I never been there. GABRIELLA Well, I don't. My mother's Indian. The India kind of Indian. (LAUGHS) Imagine a house where the father asks 'What's for dinner' in Spanish, and the mother answers 'Curry' in Hindi. 'Que hay para cenar' she says, 'Murgee, masala, ghaal.' He says, 'No es importante.' No wonder I'm nuts. JASON You don't seem too nuts. She laughs. GABRIELLA You don't know mel (OOR1TINUED ) 21. 28 CONTINUED: .( 2) 28 They're suddenly both very aware that they're alone together. 29 29 EXT. BOAT, THE DECK - DAY The agent is putting a magnificent diamond necklace in a velvet pouch that he fastidiously cinches and ties. Alex looks away from it to take a bottle out of the remaining case on deck. AGENT -- so back to the safe it goes -- Dina lifts up the baby and smells its bottom. FRANK Dina, that's disgusting. DINA The alternative is using your fingers, Frank. which offends you more? Alex laughs. Frank pushes back his chair. FRANK Don't encourage her, Alex. Her mouth is big enough. Dina is hurt. FRANK (to the agent) I'll show you that painting in our stateroom. The agent follows him away. ALEX (kindly; to Dina) Do you want to see the label? She hides her hurt by not looking at him. DINA Just open the bottle, Alex. Pour us both a glass. I'm not allowed to drink alone. When she turns her head and looks at him, she's flirting. 22. 30 30 INT. BOAT - DAY Jason has almost finished storing the wine. Gabriella is sitting on a bar stool at the galley,. listening to him, snared by the quiet passion in his voice. JASON -- when you're skimming along the water, nothing between you and the bottom of the sea but a layer of wood, your thoughts... end. All that noise inside your head? Gabriella nods, understanding exactly. JASON . . . Stops. Dina's VOICE booms over the INTERCOM, startling both of them. The BABY is FUSSING. Gabriella makes a gesture of apology to Jason. DINA (V.O.) Gabriella? Are you down there? GABRIELLA Yes, Mrs. Reese. DINA (V.0.) The baby needs you. And bring a pacifier for Frank. GABRIELLA Right there. She slides off the stool. JASON You should come out with me sometime. She smiles without answering and goes topside. His eyes follow her. A Deckhand comes down the ladder with the remaining case of wine for him to stock. 31 EXT. BOAT - DAY 31 Gabriella. lifts the fussy baby from Dina, her hands sure and calming. She coos nonsense to his little ear as she- reaches for the diaper bag and slings it over her arm. GABRIELLA He.'s ready for his nap. (CONTINUED) 23. 31 31 CONTINUED: Frank and the agent return from another section of the boat. FRANK You doing up to the house, Gabriella? (off her nod) Want to take this with you? He sweeps the policies into a large manila envelope, drops the 'pouch in with them, ties the string, hands it to her. FRANK Put it on my desk. He looks at his wife with her glass, Alex with his glass, and doesn't like it. His voice hardens slightly. FRANK Are we all set, Alex? ALEX I'm going to check the storage room, see what else'll travel. I know I put some vintage Armagnac in there, maybe some Porto? He heads down the gangplank. FRANK He's a vendor, Dina. It's like drinking with the help. DINA (DISARMING HIM) Did you pick the wine, sweetie? It's lovely. Frank grins, pleased. His hand curves around her shoulder. He has forgotten about the other vendor present, the agent. AGENT (AWKWARDLY) So I'll messenger over the rider for your signature -- Frank laughs out loud, in a better mood: FRANK -- You still here? Dina laughs, too. 24. 32 32 INT. VILLA, UPSTAIRS - DAY Gabriella settles the baby on his side, the only Reese she likes. She starts to close the shutters. Lullaby MUSIC is playing on the baby's TAPE DECK. IN THE HALLWAY She closes the nursery door as softly as possible. A man's hands go around her throat. Her gasp dies stillborn. It's Alex, kissing her.ear, holding Dina's diamond necklace to her neck. ALEX (MURMURING) Did he ever come on to you? GABRIELLA (ANGRY) Don't sneak up on me that way! ALEX Look how beautiful you are. He's an idiot if he didn't. Now she sees the necklace. GABRIELLA What are you doing? She snatches the necklace away from him and fairly runs down the hall to Frank's study. IN THE STUDY She tries td stuff it in the pouch. Alex is right behind her. GABRIELLA You're going to get me fired and deported. ALEX Just put it on for a minute. Look at yourself. She slaps at his hands half-heartedly, but it's so tempting. ALEX See what you deserve. GABRIELLA (SUCCUMBING) We're both crazy. (CONTINUED) 25. 32 32 CONTINUED: Alex moves her hair away. She lets him hook the necklace around her neck. He reaches over to open the closet door, fitted out now as a file cabinet, but with the original closet mirror still in place. The safe is visible. Gabriella stares at her reflection, Alex behind her, watching her. The necklace changes her posture. She angles her chin slightly, twists back her hair. Diamonds suit her. GABRIELLA (TITILLATED) It's vulgar. ALEX into her ear) Not against your skin. He starts to pleat her T-shirt loose from her jeans. She doesn't resist. They watch each other

knife

How many times the word 'knife' appears in the text?

Blood and Wine Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS BLOOD AND WINE Written by Nick Villiers SECOND DRAFT DECEMBER 12, 1994 FADE IN: A PAIR OF HANDS men's hands, nicely groomed, hold a small white terry towel spoiled by blood-red spots. The hands rinse the towel in a copper bar sink. The stains soften but stay. A tan jacket sleeve, spotted the same way, moves INTO FRAM. The hands dab the wet towel at the spots, with no more success, and throw it into the sink. It falls half in, still dripping the stains a drop at a time to the floor. ALL IN CLOSEUP The owner of the hands walks to a wine rack, opens a bottle of white wine, drizzles the wine on the jacket sleeve. The stains disappear. He hangs his jacket on a hook and walks from THE CELLAR and up the narrow stairs. His FOOTFALLS ECHO against the unadorned cement block walls. We see his shape, mid- forties, powerful, his shirt pulled out. He's carrying the open bottle by the neck. 2 INT. WINE STORE - NIGHT Still seen from behind, the man emerges from the cellar into a contrastingly elegant space with a wood-beamed. ceiling, vaguely European. He walks along a narrow aisle of wooden diamond bins. As the space widens his foot hits something in his path. He bends to find a shoe. He glances about nervously. There are shutters on the storefront windows. Shoe in hand, he tightens the shutters. We see his profile, a good-looking man. He walks toward a brighter room at the back of the store, the Tasting Room. Now he retrieves a pair of women's trousers from the floor, and as he straightens up we see his entire face, genial, venial, redeemed by his smile. ALEX GATES. He speaks nonchalantly toward the room. ALEX Twenty people tonight. I got a South Beach widow, a plastic surgeon -- they actually came together. (A BEAT) These people -- all they really want is something to brag about at dinner parties. He swigs from the bottle of white wine, grimaces, detours behind the counter, and spits the mouthful into the plastic lined wastebasket. He throws the bottle away. (CONTINUED) 2. 2 2 CONTINUED: There's a basket of baguettes on the counter. Alex breaks off an end and chews it to rid his mouth of the taste of the wine. Still chewing, he walks toward the tasting room. ALEX There I was, passing the wine, passing the bread, I suddenly felt like the priest at Masst Or maybe Mass started out as a wine tasting, and Jesus was a salesman. what do you think? He goes into THE TASTING ROOM It seems empty except for a large wooden table, folding chairs in disarray, open bottles clustered at one end of the table. A chalkboard on the wall has CHATEAU BEYCHEVELLE written across it at the top, vintages listed underneath. The woman's voice that replies is Gabriella's. GABRIELLA (0.S.) (with a throaty laugh) Maybe I should get dressed. Leaning against the corner is a woman wearing only her panties and a shirt. In her mid-twenties she has striking South American looks. GABRIELLA VASQUEZ. She's sipping red wine from a plastic glass. GABRIETM I don't want to spoil a religious experience. ALEX -- Ever heard of Georges Duboeuf? He throws away some of the glasses. ALEX Duboeuf has a nose and a palate -- like a gift from God. He can taste a single grape before the harvest... and describe the beaujolais it's going to produce. She laughs. GABRIELLA Oh, you have competition. (CONTINUED) 3. 2 2 CONTINUED: (2) ALEX (SLIGHTLY ANNOYED) You know how many bottles I have in this store? Open any one of 'em, I'll tell you the vintage and vintner, b lindfolded. He bends down to pick up the chunks of baguette strewn on the floor. He doesn't see her slip off her panties. She walks behind him, twirling them into a tight band. She whips them over his eyes. He laughs. GABRIELLA Okay. Show me. ALEX Victoria's Secret 95. She passes her glass under his nose. ALEX Gabriella, I picked these wines. GABRIELLA So what is it? ALEX All I can smell is your perfume. She laughs. GABRIELLA I'm not wearing any. ALEX I even bought it for you. She opens her shirt. She's not wearing a bra. She lowers her breast to the glass and then to his mouth. GABRIELLA Tell me now. He kisses her wet breast. ALEX (WITHOUT HESITATION) Beychevelle '83. Lot of body. Very aggressive. He pulls off the panty blindfold, kisses her on the mouth softly, then fully. (CONTINUED) 4. 2 2 CONTINUED: (3) GABRIELLA (LOW) -- I lo e y u, Alex. V O 3 3 INT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT (LATER) Alex is unlocking the door for Gabriella. Dressed, she looks younger. They're awkward with each other. GABRIELLA Don't think you have to say it because .1 say it, Alex. (SMILING BRIGHTLY) Doesn't mean anything.. ALEX It means something to me. GABRIELLA (EASED) We're good together, aren't we. Alex lets out a breath. ALEX Oh, yeah... We're pretty good. He kisses her goodbye, unlocks the door. She goes out to her Honda Civic. Alex doesn't wait to see her drive off before he heads back to finish cleaning up the tasting room. 4 4 INT. TASTING ROOM - NIGHT Alex straightens the last chair and starts to extract air from the open bottles. He hears a quiet CLANK of METAL. Instantly alert, he reaches for his jacket and turns off the-light. 5 5 INT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT Behind the cash register Alex opens a drawer and takes out a revolver. ze thumbs the safety off. The NOISES RECUR, like someone trying to break in through the back door from the parking lot. Alex slings his jacket casually over the gun. 5. 6 6 EXT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT Alex throws open the back door; he's counting on the element of surprise. HIS POV His red Cadillac convertible is idling nose.to the chain locked across the parking lot. A MAN in his twenties, whose tropical shirt fairly glows under the security lights, is using a pair of bolt cutters on the chain. ALEX (ADVANCING) You think you're gonna steal my car, asshole? The younger man whirls around. YOUNG MAN You scared me, man. A middle-aged man, a REPO MAN, calls out lazily from behind the wheel. REPO MAN This is not your car, sir. This car belongs to the Star Leasing Company. Alex buries the gun in the rear of his waistband as though he's rubbing his stiff back and cranks his smile to a higher wattage than the security lights. REPO MAN I can collect either the money or the car. Given how much you owe, I figure it's the car. The younger man has almost hacked through the chain. ALEX Pop the. trunk. REPO MAN We inventory the property at the yard. He keeps his eye on the chain, ready to gun the engine as soon as the exit is clear. ALEX I just want to show you something. Worked by the combination of natural curiosity and Alex's charm; the repo man pops the trunk and gets out of the still-running car. (CONTINUED) 6. 6 6 CONTINUED: In his hand he has the locking "Club" Alex usually uses to secure his. steering wheel. He's not stupid. Amused, Alex takes a step back, palms up. YOUNG MAN What are you doing? The repo man ignores him and looks in the trunk. ALEX Do you drink? REPO MAN Not on the job. What is this, booze? ALEX Two cases of single malt whiskey aged in the barrel before he was born. REPO MAN The Caddy's overdue. ALEX So are you. Drink it with the kid. Teach him what smooth is. Enjoy yourselves. Isn't that worth a few days' breather... (A BEAT) My accountant's a fuck-up. So am I, maybe, for not firing him. The bolt cutters clip through. The chain falls. YOUNG MAN We're clear. 7 7 INT. CADILLAC - NIGHT Alex is driving fast, top down, Samba MUSIC loud on the STEREO. He keeps time on the wheel as the Miami skyline cruises by. EXT. CADILLAC - NIGHT Alex turns into the garage of an expensive condominium building before the gate has slid all the way open. The TIRES SQUEAL as he powers the car around the corner. (CONTINUED) 7. 8 8 CONTINUED: A DUCATI MOTORCYCLE hogs his space. Alex lays the car in tightly. He has to squeeze out the door. He bumps the Ducati. It starts to topple; he grabs it before it goes over. 9 9 INT. CONDO - NIGHT Alex lets himself in. The entry ALARM starts to BEEP. He turns it off and resets it. The light has been left on in the kitchen. 10 10 INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT JASON, a handsome, troubled 17-year-old with long, dark hair, is filing barbs off a pile of fishing hooks on the center island. He looks harder and wiser than his years. Tackle is strewn everywhere. Some spaghetti remains in the pot it was cooked in and Jason's knife is standing upright in it. Alex walks into the kitchen. He makes an effort to be pleasant, although he's irritated by the mess, by the motorcycle. ALEX It's late, Jason. JASON I'm going out tonight. Alex exhales. ALEX You can't'fish all night and work all day. JASON Working for you doesn't exactly tax my mind. ALEX No wonder you drop bottles. JASON Fire me. ALEX Do you do it on purpose? JASON Fishing bought me my bike. (CONTINUED) 8. 10 10 CONTINUED: ALEX I almost knocked it over trying to get out of the car. JASON (SARCASTIC) I wasn't sure you were coming home. SEVERS The TOASTER OVEN DINGS. Jason takes out a muffin, it in two with his fishing knife. ALEX Use a regular knife. JASON This has a better edge. Feel it (pointing it at Alex, BLADE FLAT) -- feel it. Their voices are rising. ALEX Pointed, it's a fucking weapon. Put it away. JASON Hell with you. Jason exits to the stairs. ALEX And keep your voice down. Your mother's asleep. STAIRS JASON If you got home on time once in a while, maybe she could skip the chemical help. Alex is also on the stairs. ALEX You have no idea, none, zip, what goes on in a marriage. JASON Yeah, well, I'm learning more than I want to. (CONTINUED)' 9. 10 10 CONTINUED: (2) LANDING UPSTAIRS SUZANNE (O .S=.. ) Now what are you arguing about? SUZANNE is a pretty young woman in her late thirties with a sense of humor and irony. She's chemically relaxed, but not stupefied. She pulls a robe around herself, modest in front of her son; and although her body's not spectacular, like Gabriella's, she has a trim. athletic build. JASON It's not an argument. ALEX I asked him to clean up downstairs. SUZANNE (SOOTHING ALEX) Maybe he hadn't finished- ALEX A modicum of cooperation, you know? JASON A modicum. What's that. Modicum my ass. He pushes past his mother toward his own room. Suzanne follows him down the hallway, leaving. Alex behind. SUZANNE I don't like that tone from: you. JASON Then go to bed. ALEX Hey! JASON (RIGHT BACK) What! SUZANNE It's too late for this. ALEX Jason has gone into his room. He slams the door. CHOOSES enters his bedroom. Suzanne, alone for a-moment, to enter Jason's room. 10. 11 11 INT. JASON'S ROOM SUZANNE He's my husband. JASON (SOFTLY) I know, Mom. SUZANNE -- I still love him. JASON Whatever. She walks out. 12 12 INT. BATHROOM - NIGHT Alex stands under water as hot as he can stand, parboiling himself. Eyes squeezed shut, he lets out a long breath. His life demands more energy than he has anymore. He soaps himself thoroughly. 13 13 INT. MASTER BEDROOM - NIGHT Suzanne hears the front DOOR SLAM. Jason's DUCATI STARTS UP and ACCELERATES away. Alex comes out of the bathroom in a towel. SUZANNE (FONDLY) Lie down, I'll give you a back rub. She stumbles slightly against the bed, catches a bed post for balance, flops back on the bed with a laugh. SUZANNE -- maybe I'd better lie down. He bends down to kiss her, then heads for the television. Suzanne props herself up on her elbows. He pops a cassette into the VCR: porno, she assumes. She does her best. SUZANNE I liked the twin nurses. There was kind of a story. Alex brings the remote control back to bed. ALEX You'll like this one better. (CONTINUED) 11. 13 13 CONTINUED: He hangs his towel on a doorknob, slides into bed, starts the tape, which begins with sweat-slick dancing girls at Carnival. To Suzanne's astonishment, it turns out to be a travelog. SUZANNE Rio? ALEX I've been so busy. We could sneak away for a week.. Would you like that? SUZANNE If we really go. Last time I packed, we went nowhere. ALEX (SLEEPILY) Last time was different. SUZANNE (watching the tape) The beaches -- I thought we had a beach. I read how the hotels keep spotters on the roof with scopes, to keep thieves away from the guests. They can look at every inch of your body through the scope. (with a low laugh) Do you mind that I like that? Alex? He has fallen asleep. Tenderly she draws the sheet to his shoulder and settles down to watch the rest of the tape. DISSOLVE TO: 14 EXT. BOAT - DAWN 14 On the flying bridge of an old fishing boat, Jason eases the throttle to idle speed. The engine quiets down. The SWELLS SLAP harder against the wooden sides. The boat dips and dances to the music of the water. Jason swings down the ladder. He sets up his linis to troll. The starry dome of the sky is starting to brighten around its rim. Jason leans on the transom and stares at the flat, silvery wedge of wake. He breathes out a word. JASON :. Bite... (CONTINUED) 12. 14 14 CONTINUED: Nothing happens. He doesn't move. Then the top of one of the rods shivers slightly, goes still. Jason delicately fingers the rod like a blind man reading Braille, to feel for vibration. A smile pulls at his mouth. He steps behind the rod. The fish hits. JASON (CALLING OUT) Henryl Fish ont The line screams out. Jason's ready. He sets the hook. JASON Time to go to work, man! C'mon. A tall, black drifter appears from-below, still yawning, scratching. HENRY, 33. He wears a red Panama hat that's weathered his head for some time. HENRY Who we got? JASON Let's find out. He hauls back on the rod, the line rises from the ocean, they both recognize the fish at the end. HENRY Fucking sharks. Miami's fished out of the good stuff. Damn. He spits over the side. Jason grins. JASON This one's got more to worry about than you do. He starts to reel in the fish. Henry moves to the wheel.- HENRY Just shoot 'Jaws' in the water. I want to know the sucker's good and dead 'fore he sets a fin in my boat. You got a barb on that hook? . JASON Oh, yeah. Jason braces for the fight. 13. 15 15 EXT. DOCK - MORNING Jason and Henry are cutting the shark with the speed and dexterity of professionals. HENRY The Gulf, man, that's the place. And what makes you think fifty-fifty is right? My boat. My gas. JASON My skill. (slicing off the fins) ... My fins. 16 16 EXT. FISH MARKET - LONG SHOT - MORNING Jason and Henry slap their catch onto the Fishmonger's slippery counter. The market's noisy, men shouting. We see the negotiation from a distance. 17 EXT. DOCK - DAY (MINUTES LATE) 17 Jason and Henry walk through the hubbub. HENRY You cool? JASON I'm cool. HENRY We cool. Jason guns his Ducati. 18 INT. WINE STORE - DAY 18 Alex comes out of his office. ALEX Rob, has Jason shown up? A man's French-accented VOICE answers him from the store. ROBERT (O.S.) Not yet. ALEX You have his paycheck there? ROBERT All ready. (CONTINUED) 14. 18 18 CONTINUED: Alex takes it, and rips it up. 19 19 INT. CHINESE RESTAURANT - DAY The Chinese CHEF in the busy, steamy kitchen is inspecting the shark fins Jason has brought him. Jason is anxious to finish business and go. CHEF You no like my company? Fine. Who cares. Bring me more fin, you retire. You no want to retire? Good. Don't charge starving Chinese so much for these things. JASON You ever caught a shark? CHEF (BIGGER) You ever cook one? JASON Lemme -- lemme show you something. Jason pulls up the sleeve of his denim jacket to display a fresh gash across his arm. JASON He was already gaffed onto the side of the boat, good as dead. Two hours dead! And I was still too close to the mouth. Revenge is the last instinct to go, did you know that? The chef shrugs and shows his thumb, missing a joint. CHEF -- Work's a dangerous thing. (smiling with lots of TEETH) Nice fin, Jason. He tosses the fins in a cauldron of boiling water, slaps the CASH REGISTER on the side. It RINGS. 20 20 EXT. RESTAURANT - DAY Jason jams on his helmet and starts his. motorcycle, guns it down the street. (CONTINUED) 15. 20 20 CONTINUED: MIAMI SKYLINE Jason weaves through traffic, expert enough to take chances that goose the adrenalin. 21 21 EXT. WINE SHOP - DAY Robert and Alex are loading cases of wine into the trunk of the Caddy when Jason skids into the parking lot. He takes off his helmet. ALEX Just get in the car. 22 22 INT. CADILLAC - DAY (TRAVELING) Jason has fallen asleep while Alex drives. Alex picks up Jason's hand. Jerking awake, Jason tries to pull away, but his reflexes are sleep-slowed. Alex sniffs Jason's fingers, wrinkles his nose, lets Jason have his hand back. ALEX You stink. JASON I washed. ALEX There's Wash IN Dries in the glove compartment. Jason opens the compartment, finds the packets, opens one, rubs his hands. ALEX ... I'm trying here, Jason -- I really am. When you didn't want to go to college, I took your side, I said fine -- I mean, I -didn't finish college, and I've done all right. I gave you a job', a steady check, which is more than anybody else has done. And what do I get back? Shit. I've tried to teach you the business -- the care, the finesse... Jason laughs dismissively. (CONTINUED) 16. 22 22 CONTINUED: ALEX Well, look at it this way, Jason, someday you'll have your boat and I'll have my vineyard, and the best part '11 be they're nowhere near each other. JASON (SATISFIED) I'll send you a Christmas card. ALEX Save the stamp. They turn into the driveway to an expensive development. 23 23 EXT. SECURITY BOOTH, CORAL GABLES - DAY The Cadillac rolls to a stop at the ate. A tough, but amicable-looking armed guard in his forties, MIKE, opens the window of the air-conditioned booth. His RADIO is tuned to the FOOTBALL GAME. ALEX Hi, mike -- what's the score? MIKE (CHECKING THE APPOINTMENT BOARD) Dolphins down by nine, minute forty to go. It's over. ALEX Don't underestimate Marino. Mike ticks off the appointment, raises the gate. MIKE I told you, they don't have it this year. With a wave of acknowledgment for Mike, Alex.. drives onto the grounds. ALEX (YELLING BACK) Judas! Grinning, Mike routinely writes down the license plate number. 17. 24 24 EXT. CADILLAC - DAY Alex cruises past a collection of oversized villas, and turns into the driveway of the gaudiest. He and Jason climb out of the car. Alex opens the trunk. He loads two wine cases into Jason's arms, takes the third himself. They haven't said a word to each other. 25 25 EXT. VILLA - DAY Alex rings the intercom with his elbow. Gabriella's VOICE CRACKLES in response. GABRIELLA (V.O.) on the intercom) Who is it? ALEX Wine delivery. The INTERCOM CLICKS off. They hear FOOTSTEPS approaching. The door opens. Jason's eyes focus. He's hooked. Gabriella is smiling at Alex. She has her arms full of clean burp cloths. GABRIELLA Oh, the boss himself! ALEX (with a modest chuckle) How are you? She glances politely toward Jason, not at all expecting what she sees. A circuit connects between them. ALEX Gabriella takes care of Baby Reese. (TO GABRIELLA) This is my stepson, Jason. GABRIELLA (VERY CORRECT) How do you do. JASON Hi. GABRIELLA Is the wine for the boat? Come through the house. 18. 26 26 INT./EXT. VILLA - DAY They follow her inside. Jason takes in the richness of the place, but is more focussed on Gabriella. They exit TO T he lawn which leads to a dock. 27 27 EXT. REESES' BOAT DAY A sleek, ocean-going yacht is tied up at the dock, the crew unobtrusively at work. FRANK REESE, a powerful, confidant man in his mid-sixties, is sitting with his INSURANCE AGENT at a table on deck where policies are spread out next to a jewelry box. Reese's expensive 35- year-old wife DINA has turned her chair to sun her legs while she plays with the BABY. DINA -- what's the point of having it, if I can't wear it, Frank? AGENT (DEFERENTIALLY) You can wear it anywhere you like, Mrs. Reese -- except out of the country. Gabriella leads Alex and Jason aboard. Frank likes Alex and is glad to see him. Alex can't help glancing at Dina's long legs.. She smiles. FRANK Alex, should we insure the wine while we're at it? His arms tired,'Alex is happy to set down the case. ALEX Aren't you covered on your home policy? GABRIELLA (TO JASON) I'll show you, come on. AGENT How much wine are we talking about? Jason follows Gabriella down below, the VOICES on the deck fading. DINA (O.S.) Why bother insuring it? Let's drink it instead. 19. 28 28 INT. BOAT - DAY It's quiet inside, not tasteful but impressive, like everything else of the Reeses. Jason takes a stab at conversation. JASON Big boat. Gabriella laughs and looks over her shoulder at him. They're both kids. GABRIELLA ugly, isn't it. He grins and relaxes, looks around. JASON The fittings are definitely -- yeah on the ugly side. But damn, she's solid. GABRIELLA Oh, a boat type. JASON (proud, defensive) I like.boats. Gabriella shows him the climatized, built-in wine closet next to the galley. He starts to rack the bottles while she watches. He talks to stop her from leaving. JASON So where you headed? GABRIELLA I'm not going, 'I can't go. JASON They don't want to take the baby. GABRIELLA I don't have a green card, I can't leave the country. Baby goes with an American nurse. I house-sit. It's fine. JASON You don't like them. Gabriella laughs. (CONTINUED) 20. 28 28 CONTINUED: GABRIELLA God. I'm obvious. I just don't like working for people, but that's life. He chafes under authority the same way she does. JASON Doesn't have to be. GABRIELLA Maybe not with a rich stepfather. He laughs. JASON Worst kind. GABRIELLA (CORRECTIVELY) No. (A BEAT) You don't appreciate what you have, Jason. It's very poor where I came from. JASON Where's that? GABRIELLA Venezuela. Do I look it? JASON I don't know, I never been there. GABRIELLA Well, I don't. My mother's Indian. The India kind of Indian. (LAUGHS) Imagine a house where the father asks 'What's for dinner' in Spanish, and the mother answers 'Curry' in Hindi. 'Que hay para cenar' she says, 'Murgee, masala, ghaal.' He says, 'No es importante.' No wonder I'm nuts. JASON You don't seem too nuts. She laughs. GABRIELLA You don't know mel (OOR1TINUED ) 21. 28 CONTINUED: .( 2) 28 They're suddenly both very aware that they're alone together. 29 29 EXT. BOAT, THE DECK - DAY The agent is putting a magnificent diamond necklace in a velvet pouch that he fastidiously cinches and ties. Alex looks away from it to take a bottle out of the remaining case on deck. AGENT -- so back to the safe it goes -- Dina lifts up the baby and smells its bottom. FRANK Dina, that's disgusting. DINA The alternative is using your fingers, Frank. which offends you more? Alex laughs. Frank pushes back his chair. FRANK Don't encourage her, Alex. Her mouth is big enough. Dina is hurt. FRANK (to the agent) I'll show you that painting in our stateroom. The agent follows him away. ALEX (kindly; to Dina) Do you want to see the label? She hides her hurt by not looking at him. DINA Just open the bottle, Alex. Pour us both a glass. I'm not allowed to drink alone. When she turns her head and looks at him, she's flirting. 22. 30 30 INT. BOAT - DAY Jason has almost finished storing the wine. Gabriella is sitting on a bar stool at the galley,. listening to him, snared by the quiet passion in his voice. JASON -- when you're skimming along the water, nothing between you and the bottom of the sea but a layer of wood, your thoughts... end. All that noise inside your head? Gabriella nods, understanding exactly. JASON . . . Stops. Dina's VOICE booms over the INTERCOM, startling both of them. The BABY is FUSSING. Gabriella makes a gesture of apology to Jason. DINA (V.O.) Gabriella? Are you down there? GABRIELLA Yes, Mrs. Reese. DINA (V.0.) The baby needs you. And bring a pacifier for Frank. GABRIELLA Right there. She slides off the stool. JASON You should come out with me sometime. She smiles without answering and goes topside. His eyes follow her. A Deckhand comes down the ladder with the remaining case of wine for him to stock. 31 EXT. BOAT - DAY 31 Gabriella. lifts the fussy baby from Dina, her hands sure and calming. She coos nonsense to his little ear as she- reaches for the diaper bag and slings it over her arm. GABRIELLA He.'s ready for his nap. (CONTINUED) 23. 31 31 CONTINUED: Frank and the agent return from another section of the boat. FRANK You doing up to the house, Gabriella? (off her nod) Want to take this with you? He sweeps the policies into a large manila envelope, drops the 'pouch in with them, ties the string, hands it to her. FRANK Put it on my desk. He looks at his wife with her glass, Alex with his glass, and doesn't like it. His voice hardens slightly. FRANK Are we all set, Alex? ALEX I'm going to check the storage room, see what else'll travel. I know I put some vintage Armagnac in there, maybe some Porto? He heads down the gangplank. FRANK He's a vendor, Dina. It's like drinking with the help. DINA (DISARMING HIM) Did you pick the wine, sweetie? It's lovely. Frank grins, pleased. His hand curves around her shoulder. He has forgotten about the other vendor present, the agent. AGENT (AWKWARDLY) So I'll messenger over the rider for your signature -- Frank laughs out loud, in a better mood: FRANK -- You still here? Dina laughs, too. 24. 32 32 INT. VILLA, UPSTAIRS - DAY Gabriella settles the baby on his side, the only Reese she likes. She starts to close the shutters. Lullaby MUSIC is playing on the baby's TAPE DECK. IN THE HALLWAY She closes the nursery door as softly as possible. A man's hands go around her throat. Her gasp dies stillborn. It's Alex, kissing her.ear, holding Dina's diamond necklace to her neck. ALEX (MURMURING) Did he ever come on to you? GABRIELLA (ANGRY) Don't sneak up on me that way! ALEX Look how beautiful you are. He's an idiot if he didn't. Now she sees the necklace. GABRIELLA What are you doing? She snatches the necklace away from him and fairly runs down the hall to Frank's study. IN THE STUDY She tries td stuff it in the pouch. Alex is right behind her. GABRIELLA You're going to get me fired and deported. ALEX Just put it on for a minute. Look at yourself. She slaps at his hands half-heartedly, but it's so tempting. ALEX See what you deserve. GABRIELLA (SUCCUMBING) We're both crazy. (CONTINUED) 25. 32 32 CONTINUED: Alex moves her hair away. She lets him hook the necklace around her neck. He reaches over to open the closet door, fitted out now as a file cabinet, but with the original closet mirror still in place. The safe is visible. Gabriella stares at her reflection, Alex behind her, watching her. The necklace changes her posture. She angles her chin slightly, twists back her hair. Diamonds suit her. GABRIELLA (TITILLATED) It's vulgar. ALEX into her ear) Not against your skin. He starts to pleat her T-shirt loose from her jeans. She doesn't resist. They watch each other

hating

How many times the word 'hating' appears in the text?

Blood and Wine Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS BLOOD AND WINE Written by Nick Villiers SECOND DRAFT DECEMBER 12, 1994 FADE IN: A PAIR OF HANDS men's hands, nicely groomed, hold a small white terry towel spoiled by blood-red spots. The hands rinse the towel in a copper bar sink. The stains soften but stay. A tan jacket sleeve, spotted the same way, moves INTO FRAM. The hands dab the wet towel at the spots, with no more success, and throw it into the sink. It falls half in, still dripping the stains a drop at a time to the floor. ALL IN CLOSEUP The owner of the hands walks to a wine rack, opens a bottle of white wine, drizzles the wine on the jacket sleeve. The stains disappear. He hangs his jacket on a hook and walks from THE CELLAR and up the narrow stairs. His FOOTFALLS ECHO against the unadorned cement block walls. We see his shape, mid- forties, powerful, his shirt pulled out. He's carrying the open bottle by the neck. 2 INT. WINE STORE - NIGHT Still seen from behind, the man emerges from the cellar into a contrastingly elegant space with a wood-beamed. ceiling, vaguely European. He walks along a narrow aisle of wooden diamond bins. As the space widens his foot hits something in his path. He bends to find a shoe. He glances about nervously. There are shutters on the storefront windows. Shoe in hand, he tightens the shutters. We see his profile, a good-looking man. He walks toward a brighter room at the back of the store, the Tasting Room. Now he retrieves a pair of women's trousers from the floor, and as he straightens up we see his entire face, genial, venial, redeemed by his smile. ALEX GATES. He speaks nonchalantly toward the room. ALEX Twenty people tonight. I got a South Beach widow, a plastic surgeon -- they actually came together. (A BEAT) These people -- all they really want is something to brag about at dinner parties. He swigs from the bottle of white wine, grimaces, detours behind the counter, and spits the mouthful into the plastic lined wastebasket. He throws the bottle away. (CONTINUED) 2. 2 2 CONTINUED: There's a basket of baguettes on the counter. Alex breaks off an end and chews it to rid his mouth of the taste of the wine. Still chewing, he walks toward the tasting room. ALEX There I was, passing the wine, passing the bread, I suddenly felt like the priest at Masst Or maybe Mass started out as a wine tasting, and Jesus was a salesman. what do you think? He goes into THE TASTING ROOM It seems empty except for a large wooden table, folding chairs in disarray, open bottles clustered at one end of the table. A chalkboard on the wall has CHATEAU BEYCHEVELLE written across it at the top, vintages listed underneath. The woman's voice that replies is Gabriella's. GABRIELLA (0.S.) (with a throaty laugh) Maybe I should get dressed. Leaning against the corner is a woman wearing only her panties and a shirt. In her mid-twenties she has striking South American looks. GABRIELLA VASQUEZ. She's sipping red wine from a plastic glass. GABRIETM I don't want to spoil a religious experience. ALEX -- Ever heard of Georges Duboeuf? He throws away some of the glasses. ALEX Duboeuf has a nose and a palate -- like a gift from God. He can taste a single grape before the harvest... and describe the beaujolais it's going to produce. She laughs. GABRIELLA Oh, you have competition. (CONTINUED) 3. 2 2 CONTINUED: (2) ALEX (SLIGHTLY ANNOYED) You know how many bottles I have in this store? Open any one of 'em, I'll tell you the vintage and vintner, b lindfolded. He bends down to pick up the chunks of baguette strewn on the floor. He doesn't see her slip off her panties. She walks behind him, twirling them into a tight band. She whips them over his eyes. He laughs. GABRIELLA Okay. Show me. ALEX Victoria's Secret 95. She passes her glass under his nose. ALEX Gabriella, I picked these wines. GABRIELLA So what is it? ALEX All I can smell is your perfume. She laughs. GABRIELLA I'm not wearing any. ALEX I even bought it for you. She opens her shirt. She's not wearing a bra. She lowers her breast to the glass and then to his mouth. GABRIELLA Tell me now. He kisses her wet breast. ALEX (WITHOUT HESITATION) Beychevelle '83. Lot of body. Very aggressive. He pulls off the panty blindfold, kisses her on the mouth softly, then fully. (CONTINUED) 4. 2 2 CONTINUED: (3) GABRIELLA (LOW) -- I lo e y u, Alex. V O 3 3 INT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT (LATER) Alex is unlocking the door for Gabriella. Dressed, she looks younger. They're awkward with each other. GABRIELLA Don't think you have to say it because .1 say it, Alex. (SMILING BRIGHTLY) Doesn't mean anything.. ALEX It means something to me. GABRIELLA (EASED) We're good together, aren't we. Alex lets out a breath. ALEX Oh, yeah... We're pretty good. He kisses her goodbye, unlocks the door. She goes out to her Honda Civic. Alex doesn't wait to see her drive off before he heads back to finish cleaning up the tasting room. 4 4 INT. TASTING ROOM - NIGHT Alex straightens the last chair and starts to extract air from the open bottles. He hears a quiet CLANK of METAL. Instantly alert, he reaches for his jacket and turns off the-light. 5 5 INT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT Behind the cash register Alex opens a drawer and takes out a revolver. ze thumbs the safety off. The NOISES RECUR, like someone trying to break in through the back door from the parking lot. Alex slings his jacket casually over the gun. 5. 6 6 EXT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT Alex throws open the back door; he's counting on the element of surprise. HIS POV His red Cadillac convertible is idling nose.to the chain locked across the parking lot. A MAN in his twenties, whose tropical shirt fairly glows under the security lights, is using a pair of bolt cutters on the chain. ALEX (ADVANCING) You think you're gonna steal my car, asshole? The younger man whirls around. YOUNG MAN You scared me, man. A middle-aged man, a REPO MAN, calls out lazily from behind the wheel. REPO MAN This is not your car, sir. This car belongs to the Star Leasing Company. Alex buries the gun in the rear of his waistband as though he's rubbing his stiff back and cranks his smile to a higher wattage than the security lights. REPO MAN I can collect either the money or the car. Given how much you owe, I figure it's the car. The younger man has almost hacked through the chain. ALEX Pop the. trunk. REPO MAN We inventory the property at the yard. He keeps his eye on the chain, ready to gun the engine as soon as the exit is clear. ALEX I just want to show you something. Worked by the combination of natural curiosity and Alex's charm; the repo man pops the trunk and gets out of the still-running car. (CONTINUED) 6. 6 6 CONTINUED: In his hand he has the locking "Club" Alex usually uses to secure his. steering wheel. He's not stupid. Amused, Alex takes a step back, palms up. YOUNG MAN What are you doing? The repo man ignores him and looks in the trunk. ALEX Do you drink? REPO MAN Not on the job. What is this, booze? ALEX Two cases of single malt whiskey aged in the barrel before he was born. REPO MAN The Caddy's overdue. ALEX So are you. Drink it with the kid. Teach him what smooth is. Enjoy yourselves. Isn't that worth a few days' breather... (A BEAT) My accountant's a fuck-up. So am I, maybe, for not firing him. The bolt cutters clip through. The chain falls. YOUNG MAN We're clear. 7 7 INT. CADILLAC - NIGHT Alex is driving fast, top down, Samba MUSIC loud on the STEREO. He keeps time on the wheel as the Miami skyline cruises by. EXT. CADILLAC - NIGHT Alex turns into the garage of an expensive condominium building before the gate has slid all the way open. The TIRES SQUEAL as he powers the car around the corner. (CONTINUED) 7. 8 8 CONTINUED: A DUCATI MOTORCYCLE hogs his space. Alex lays the car in tightly. He has to squeeze out the door. He bumps the Ducati. It starts to topple; he grabs it before it goes over. 9 9 INT. CONDO - NIGHT Alex lets himself in. The entry ALARM starts to BEEP. He turns it off and resets it. The light has been left on in the kitchen. 10 10 INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT JASON, a handsome, troubled 17-year-old with long, dark hair, is filing barbs off a pile of fishing hooks on the center island. He looks harder and wiser than his years. Tackle is strewn everywhere. Some spaghetti remains in the pot it was cooked in and Jason's knife is standing upright in it. Alex walks into the kitchen. He makes an effort to be pleasant, although he's irritated by the mess, by the motorcycle. ALEX It's late, Jason. JASON I'm going out tonight. Alex exhales. ALEX You can't'fish all night and work all day. JASON Working for you doesn't exactly tax my mind. ALEX No wonder you drop bottles. JASON Fire me. ALEX Do you do it on purpose? JASON Fishing bought me my bike. (CONTINUED) 8. 10 10 CONTINUED: ALEX I almost knocked it over trying to get out of the car. JASON (SARCASTIC) I wasn't sure you were coming home. SEVERS The TOASTER OVEN DINGS. Jason takes out a muffin, it in two with his fishing knife. ALEX Use a regular knife. JASON This has a better edge. Feel it (pointing it at Alex, BLADE FLAT) -- feel it. Their voices are rising. ALEX Pointed, it's a fucking weapon. Put it away. JASON Hell with you. Jason exits to the stairs. ALEX And keep your voice down. Your mother's asleep. STAIRS JASON If you got home on time once in a while, maybe she could skip the chemical help. Alex is also on the stairs. ALEX You have no idea, none, zip, what goes on in a marriage. JASON Yeah, well, I'm learning more than I want to. (CONTINUED)' 9. 10 10 CONTINUED: (2) LANDING UPSTAIRS SUZANNE (O .S=.. ) Now what are you arguing about? SUZANNE is a pretty young woman in her late thirties with a sense of humor and irony. She's chemically relaxed, but not stupefied. She pulls a robe around herself, modest in front of her son; and although her body's not spectacular, like Gabriella's, she has a trim. athletic build. JASON It's not an argument. ALEX I asked him to clean up downstairs. SUZANNE (SOOTHING ALEX) Maybe he hadn't finished- ALEX A modicum of cooperation, you know? JASON A modicum. What's that. Modicum my ass. He pushes past his mother toward his own room. Suzanne follows him down the hallway, leaving. Alex behind. SUZANNE I don't like that tone from: you. JASON Then go to bed. ALEX Hey! JASON (RIGHT BACK) What! SUZANNE It's too late for this. ALEX Jason has gone into his room. He slams the door. CHOOSES enters his bedroom. Suzanne, alone for a-moment, to enter Jason's room. 10. 11 11 INT. JASON'S ROOM SUZANNE He's my husband. JASON (SOFTLY) I know, Mom. SUZANNE -- I still love him. JASON Whatever. She walks out. 12 12 INT. BATHROOM - NIGHT Alex stands under water as hot as he can stand, parboiling himself. Eyes squeezed shut, he lets out a long breath. His life demands more energy than he has anymore. He soaps himself thoroughly. 13 13 INT. MASTER BEDROOM - NIGHT Suzanne hears the front DOOR SLAM. Jason's DUCATI STARTS UP and ACCELERATES away. Alex comes out of the bathroom in a towel. SUZANNE (FONDLY) Lie down, I'll give you a back rub. She stumbles slightly against the bed, catches a bed post for balance, flops back on the bed with a laugh. SUZANNE -- maybe I'd better lie down. He bends down to kiss her, then heads for the television. Suzanne props herself up on her elbows. He pops a cassette into the VCR: porno, she assumes. She does her best. SUZANNE I liked the twin nurses. There was kind of a story. Alex brings the remote control back to bed. ALEX You'll like this one better. (CONTINUED) 11. 13 13 CONTINUED: He hangs his towel on a doorknob, slides into bed, starts the tape, which begins with sweat-slick dancing girls at Carnival. To Suzanne's astonishment, it turns out to be a travelog. SUZANNE Rio? ALEX I've been so busy. We could sneak away for a week.. Would you like that? SUZANNE If we really go. Last time I packed, we went nowhere. ALEX (SLEEPILY) Last time was different. SUZANNE (watching the tape) The beaches -- I thought we had a beach. I read how the hotels keep spotters on the roof with scopes, to keep thieves away from the guests. They can look at every inch of your body through the scope. (with a low laugh) Do you mind that I like that? Alex? He has fallen asleep. Tenderly she draws the sheet to his shoulder and settles down to watch the rest of the tape. DISSOLVE TO: 14 EXT. BOAT - DAWN 14 On the flying bridge of an old fishing boat, Jason eases the throttle to idle speed. The engine quiets down. The SWELLS SLAP harder against the wooden sides. The boat dips and dances to the music of the water. Jason swings down the ladder. He sets up his linis to troll. The starry dome of the sky is starting to brighten around its rim. Jason leans on the transom and stares at the flat, silvery wedge of wake. He breathes out a word. JASON :. Bite... (CONTINUED) 12. 14 14 CONTINUED: Nothing happens. He doesn't move. Then the top of one of the rods shivers slightly, goes still. Jason delicately fingers the rod like a blind man reading Braille, to feel for vibration. A smile pulls at his mouth. He steps behind the rod. The fish hits. JASON (CALLING OUT) Henryl Fish ont The line screams out. Jason's ready. He sets the hook. JASON Time to go to work, man! C'mon. A tall, black drifter appears from-below, still yawning, scratching. HENRY, 33. He wears a red Panama hat that's weathered his head for some time. HENRY Who we got? JASON Let's find out. He hauls back on the rod, the line rises from the ocean, they both recognize the fish at the end. HENRY Fucking sharks. Miami's fished out of the good stuff. Damn. He spits over the side. Jason grins. JASON This one's got more to worry about than you do. He starts to reel in the fish. Henry moves to the wheel.- HENRY Just shoot 'Jaws' in the water. I want to know the sucker's good and dead 'fore he sets a fin in my boat. You got a barb on that hook? . JASON Oh, yeah. Jason braces for the fight. 13. 15 15 EXT. DOCK - MORNING Jason and Henry are cutting the shark with the speed and dexterity of professionals. HENRY The Gulf, man, that's the place. And what makes you think fifty-fifty is right? My boat. My gas. JASON My skill. (slicing off the fins) ... My fins. 16 16 EXT. FISH MARKET - LONG SHOT - MORNING Jason and Henry slap their catch onto the Fishmonger's slippery counter. The market's noisy, men shouting. We see the negotiation from a distance. 17 EXT. DOCK - DAY (MINUTES LATE) 17 Jason and Henry walk through the hubbub. HENRY You cool? JASON I'm cool. HENRY We cool. Jason guns his Ducati. 18 INT. WINE STORE - DAY 18 Alex comes out of his office. ALEX Rob, has Jason shown up? A man's French-accented VOICE answers him from the store. ROBERT (O.S.) Not yet. ALEX You have his paycheck there? ROBERT All ready. (CONTINUED) 14. 18 18 CONTINUED: Alex takes it, and rips it up. 19 19 INT. CHINESE RESTAURANT - DAY The Chinese CHEF in the busy, steamy kitchen is inspecting the shark fins Jason has brought him. Jason is anxious to finish business and go. CHEF You no like my company? Fine. Who cares. Bring me more fin, you retire. You no want to retire? Good. Don't charge starving Chinese so much for these things. JASON You ever caught a shark? CHEF (BIGGER) You ever cook one? JASON Lemme -- lemme show you something. Jason pulls up the sleeve of his denim jacket to display a fresh gash across his arm. JASON He was already gaffed onto the side of the boat, good as dead. Two hours dead! And I was still too close to the mouth. Revenge is the last instinct to go, did you know that? The chef shrugs and shows his thumb, missing a joint. CHEF -- Work's a dangerous thing. (smiling with lots of TEETH) Nice fin, Jason. He tosses the fins in a cauldron of boiling water, slaps the CASH REGISTER on the side. It RINGS. 20 20 EXT. RESTAURANT - DAY Jason jams on his helmet and starts his. motorcycle, guns it down the street. (CONTINUED) 15. 20 20 CONTINUED: MIAMI SKYLINE Jason weaves through traffic, expert enough to take chances that goose the adrenalin. 21 21 EXT. WINE SHOP - DAY Robert and Alex are loading cases of wine into the trunk of the Caddy when Jason skids into the parking lot. He takes off his helmet. ALEX Just get in the car. 22 22 INT. CADILLAC - DAY (TRAVELING) Jason has fallen asleep while Alex drives. Alex picks up Jason's hand. Jerking awake, Jason tries to pull away, but his reflexes are sleep-slowed. Alex sniffs Jason's fingers, wrinkles his nose, lets Jason have his hand back. ALEX You stink. JASON I washed. ALEX There's Wash IN Dries in the glove compartment. Jason opens the compartment, finds the packets, opens one, rubs his hands. ALEX ... I'm trying here, Jason -- I really am. When you didn't want to go to college, I took your side, I said fine -- I mean, I -didn't finish college, and I've done all right. I gave you a job', a steady check, which is more than anybody else has done. And what do I get back? Shit. I've tried to teach you the business -- the care, the finesse... Jason laughs dismissively. (CONTINUED) 16. 22 22 CONTINUED: ALEX Well, look at it this way, Jason, someday you'll have your boat and I'll have my vineyard, and the best part '11 be they're nowhere near each other. JASON (SATISFIED) I'll send you a Christmas card. ALEX Save the stamp. They turn into the driveway to an expensive development. 23 23 EXT. SECURITY BOOTH, CORAL GABLES - DAY The Cadillac rolls to a stop at the ate. A tough, but amicable-looking armed guard in his forties, MIKE, opens the window of the air-conditioned booth. His RADIO is tuned to the FOOTBALL GAME. ALEX Hi, mike -- what's the score? MIKE (CHECKING THE APPOINTMENT BOARD) Dolphins down by nine, minute forty to go. It's over. ALEX Don't underestimate Marino. Mike ticks off the appointment, raises the gate. MIKE I told you, they don't have it this year. With a wave of acknowledgment for Mike, Alex.. drives onto the grounds. ALEX (YELLING BACK) Judas! Grinning, Mike routinely writes down the license plate number. 17. 24 24 EXT. CADILLAC - DAY Alex cruises past a collection of oversized villas, and turns into the driveway of the gaudiest. He and Jason climb out of the car. Alex opens the trunk. He loads two wine cases into Jason's arms, takes the third himself. They haven't said a word to each other. 25 25 EXT. VILLA - DAY Alex rings the intercom with his elbow. Gabriella's VOICE CRACKLES in response. GABRIELLA (V.O.) on the intercom) Who is it? ALEX Wine delivery. The INTERCOM CLICKS off. They hear FOOTSTEPS approaching. The door opens. Jason's eyes focus. He's hooked. Gabriella is smiling at Alex. She has her arms full of clean burp cloths. GABRIELLA Oh, the boss himself! ALEX (with a modest chuckle) How are you? She glances politely toward Jason, not at all expecting what she sees. A circuit connects between them. ALEX Gabriella takes care of Baby Reese. (TO GABRIELLA) This is my stepson, Jason. GABRIELLA (VERY CORRECT) How do you do. JASON Hi. GABRIELLA Is the wine for the boat? Come through the house. 18. 26 26 INT./EXT. VILLA - DAY They follow her inside. Jason takes in the richness of the place, but is more focussed on Gabriella. They exit TO T he lawn which leads to a dock. 27 27 EXT. REESES' BOAT DAY A sleek, ocean-going yacht is tied up at the dock, the crew unobtrusively at work. FRANK REESE, a powerful, confidant man in his mid-sixties, is sitting with his INSURANCE AGENT at a table on deck where policies are spread out next to a jewelry box. Reese's expensive 35- year-old wife DINA has turned her chair to sun her legs while she plays with the BABY. DINA -- what's the point of having it, if I can't wear it, Frank? AGENT (DEFERENTIALLY) You can wear it anywhere you like, Mrs. Reese -- except out of the country. Gabriella leads Alex and Jason aboard. Frank likes Alex and is glad to see him. Alex can't help glancing at Dina's long legs.. She smiles. FRANK Alex, should we insure the wine while we're at it? His arms tired,'Alex is happy to set down the case. ALEX Aren't you covered on your home policy? GABRIELLA (TO JASON) I'll show you, come on. AGENT How much wine are we talking about? Jason follows Gabriella down below, the VOICES on the deck fading. DINA (O.S.) Why bother insuring it? Let's drink it instead. 19. 28 28 INT. BOAT - DAY It's quiet inside, not tasteful but impressive, like everything else of the Reeses. Jason takes a stab at conversation. JASON Big boat. Gabriella laughs and looks over her shoulder at him. They're both kids. GABRIELLA ugly, isn't it. He grins and relaxes, looks around. JASON The fittings are definitely -- yeah on the ugly side. But damn, she's solid. GABRIELLA Oh, a boat type. JASON (proud, defensive) I like.boats. Gabriella shows him the climatized, built-in wine closet next to the galley. He starts to rack the bottles while she watches. He talks to stop her from leaving. JASON So where you headed? GABRIELLA I'm not going, 'I can't go. JASON They don't want to take the baby. GABRIELLA I don't have a green card, I can't leave the country. Baby goes with an American nurse. I house-sit. It's fine. JASON You don't like them. Gabriella laughs. (CONTINUED) 20. 28 28 CONTINUED: GABRIELLA God. I'm obvious. I just don't like working for people, but that's life. He chafes under authority the same way she does. JASON Doesn't have to be. GABRIELLA Maybe not with a rich stepfather. He laughs. JASON Worst kind. GABRIELLA (CORRECTIVELY) No. (A BEAT) You don't appreciate what you have, Jason. It's very poor where I came from. JASON Where's that? GABRIELLA Venezuela. Do I look it? JASON I don't know, I never been there. GABRIELLA Well, I don't. My mother's Indian. The India kind of Indian. (LAUGHS) Imagine a house where the father asks 'What's for dinner' in Spanish, and the mother answers 'Curry' in Hindi. 'Que hay para cenar' she says, 'Murgee, masala, ghaal.' He says, 'No es importante.' No wonder I'm nuts. JASON You don't seem too nuts. She laughs. GABRIELLA You don't know mel (OOR1TINUED ) 21. 28 CONTINUED: .( 2) 28 They're suddenly both very aware that they're alone together. 29 29 EXT. BOAT, THE DECK - DAY The agent is putting a magnificent diamond necklace in a velvet pouch that he fastidiously cinches and ties. Alex looks away from it to take a bottle out of the remaining case on deck. AGENT -- so back to the safe it goes -- Dina lifts up the baby and smells its bottom. FRANK Dina, that's disgusting. DINA The alternative is using your fingers, Frank. which offends you more? Alex laughs. Frank pushes back his chair. FRANK Don't encourage her, Alex. Her mouth is big enough. Dina is hurt. FRANK (to the agent) I'll show you that painting in our stateroom. The agent follows him away. ALEX (kindly; to Dina) Do you want to see the label? She hides her hurt by not looking at him. DINA Just open the bottle, Alex. Pour us both a glass. I'm not allowed to drink alone. When she turns her head and looks at him, she's flirting. 22. 30 30 INT. BOAT - DAY Jason has almost finished storing the wine. Gabriella is sitting on a bar stool at the galley,. listening to him, snared by the quiet passion in his voice. JASON -- when you're skimming along the water, nothing between you and the bottom of the sea but a layer of wood, your thoughts... end. All that noise inside your head? Gabriella nods, understanding exactly. JASON . . . Stops. Dina's VOICE booms over the INTERCOM, startling both of them. The BABY is FUSSING. Gabriella makes a gesture of apology to Jason. DINA (V.O.) Gabriella? Are you down there? GABRIELLA Yes, Mrs. Reese. DINA (V.0.) The baby needs you. And bring a pacifier for Frank. GABRIELLA Right there. She slides off the stool. JASON You should come out with me sometime. She smiles without answering and goes topside. His eyes follow her. A Deckhand comes down the ladder with the remaining case of wine for him to stock. 31 EXT. BOAT - DAY 31 Gabriella. lifts the fussy baby from Dina, her hands sure and calming. She coos nonsense to his little ear as she- reaches for the diaper bag and slings it over her arm. GABRIELLA He.'s ready for his nap. (CONTINUED) 23. 31 31 CONTINUED: Frank and the agent return from another section of the boat. FRANK You doing up to the house, Gabriella? (off her nod) Want to take this with you? He sweeps the policies into a large manila envelope, drops the 'pouch in with them, ties the string, hands it to her. FRANK Put it on my desk. He looks at his wife with her glass, Alex with his glass, and doesn't like it. His voice hardens slightly. FRANK Are we all set, Alex? ALEX I'm going to check the storage room, see what else'll travel. I know I put some vintage Armagnac in there, maybe some Porto? He heads down the gangplank. FRANK He's a vendor, Dina. It's like drinking with the help. DINA (DISARMING HIM) Did you pick the wine, sweetie? It's lovely. Frank grins, pleased. His hand curves around her shoulder. He has forgotten about the other vendor present, the agent. AGENT (AWKWARDLY) So I'll messenger over the rider for your signature -- Frank laughs out loud, in a better mood: FRANK -- You still here? Dina laughs, too. 24. 32 32 INT. VILLA, UPSTAIRS - DAY Gabriella settles the baby on his side, the only Reese she likes. She starts to close the shutters. Lullaby MUSIC is playing on the baby's TAPE DECK. IN THE HALLWAY She closes the nursery door as softly as possible. A man's hands go around her throat. Her gasp dies stillborn. It's Alex, kissing her.ear, holding Dina's diamond necklace to her neck. ALEX (MURMURING) Did he ever come on to you? GABRIELLA (ANGRY) Don't sneak up on me that way! ALEX Look how beautiful you are. He's an idiot if he didn't. Now she sees the necklace. GABRIELLA What are you doing? She snatches the necklace away from him and fairly runs down the hall to Frank's study. IN THE STUDY She tries td stuff it in the pouch. Alex is right behind her. GABRIELLA You're going to get me fired and deported. ALEX Just put it on for a minute. Look at yourself. She slaps at his hands half-heartedly, but it's so tempting. ALEX See what you deserve. GABRIELLA (SUCCUMBING) We're both crazy. (CONTINUED) 25. 32 32 CONTINUED: Alex moves her hair away. She lets him hook the necklace around her neck. He reaches over to open the closet door, fitted out now as a file cabinet, but with the original closet mirror still in place. The safe is visible. Gabriella stares at her reflection, Alex behind her, watching her. The necklace changes her posture. She angles her chin slightly, twists back her hair. Diamonds suit her. GABRIELLA (TITILLATED) It's vulgar. ALEX into her ear) Not against your skin. He starts to pleat her T-shirt loose from her jeans. She doesn't resist. They watch each other

overtake

How many times the word 'overtake' appears in the text?

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Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS BLOOD AND WINE Written by Nick Villiers SECOND DRAFT DECEMBER 12, 1994 FADE IN: A PAIR OF HANDS men's hands, nicely groomed, hold a small white terry towel spoiled by blood-red spots. The hands rinse the towel in a copper bar sink. The stains soften but stay. A tan jacket sleeve, spotted the same way, moves INTO FRAM. The hands dab the wet towel at the spots, with no more success, and throw it into the sink. It falls half in, still dripping the stains a drop at a time to the floor. ALL IN CLOSEUP The owner of the hands walks to a wine rack, opens a bottle of white wine, drizzles the wine on the jacket sleeve. The stains disappear. He hangs his jacket on a hook and walks from THE CELLAR and up the narrow stairs. His FOOTFALLS ECHO against the unadorned cement block walls. We see his shape, mid- forties, powerful, his shirt pulled out. He's carrying the open bottle by the neck. 2 INT. WINE STORE - NIGHT Still seen from behind, the man emerges from the cellar into a contrastingly elegant space with a wood-beamed. ceiling, vaguely European. He walks along a narrow aisle of wooden diamond bins. As the space widens his foot hits something in his path. He bends to find a shoe. He glances about nervously. There are shutters on the storefront windows. Shoe in hand, he tightens the shutters. We see his profile, a good-looking man. He walks toward a brighter room at the back of the store, the Tasting Room. Now he retrieves a pair of women's trousers from the floor, and as he straightens up we see his entire face, genial, venial, redeemed by his smile. ALEX GATES. He speaks nonchalantly toward the room. ALEX Twenty people tonight. I got a South Beach widow, a plastic surgeon -- they actually came together. (A BEAT) These people -- all they really want is something to brag about at dinner parties. He swigs from the bottle of white wine, grimaces, detours behind the counter, and spits the mouthful into the plastic lined wastebasket. He throws the bottle away. (CONTINUED) 2. 2 2 CONTINUED: There's a basket of baguettes on the counter. Alex breaks off an end and chews it to rid his mouth of the taste of the wine. Still chewing, he walks toward the tasting room. ALEX There I was, passing the wine, passing the bread, I suddenly felt like the priest at Masst Or maybe Mass started out as a wine tasting, and Jesus was a salesman. what do you think? He goes into THE TASTING ROOM It seems empty except for a large wooden table, folding chairs in disarray, open bottles clustered at one end of the table. A chalkboard on the wall has CHATEAU BEYCHEVELLE written across it at the top, vintages listed underneath. The woman's voice that replies is Gabriella's. GABRIELLA (0.S.) (with a throaty laugh) Maybe I should get dressed. Leaning against the corner is a woman wearing only her panties and a shirt. In her mid-twenties she has striking South American looks. GABRIELLA VASQUEZ. She's sipping red wine from a plastic glass. GABRIETM I don't want to spoil a religious experience. ALEX -- Ever heard of Georges Duboeuf? He throws away some of the glasses. ALEX Duboeuf has a nose and a palate -- like a gift from God. He can taste a single grape before the harvest... and describe the beaujolais it's going to produce. She laughs. GABRIELLA Oh, you have competition. (CONTINUED) 3. 2 2 CONTINUED: (2) ALEX (SLIGHTLY ANNOYED) You know how many bottles I have in this store? Open any one of 'em, I'll tell you the vintage and vintner, b lindfolded. He bends down to pick up the chunks of baguette strewn on the floor. He doesn't see her slip off her panties. She walks behind him, twirling them into a tight band. She whips them over his eyes. He laughs. GABRIELLA Okay. Show me. ALEX Victoria's Secret 95. She passes her glass under his nose. ALEX Gabriella, I picked these wines. GABRIELLA So what is it? ALEX All I can smell is your perfume. She laughs. GABRIELLA I'm not wearing any. ALEX I even bought it for you. She opens her shirt. She's not wearing a bra. She lowers her breast to the glass and then to his mouth. GABRIELLA Tell me now. He kisses her wet breast. ALEX (WITHOUT HESITATION) Beychevelle '83. Lot of body. Very aggressive. He pulls off the panty blindfold, kisses her on the mouth softly, then fully. (CONTINUED) 4. 2 2 CONTINUED: (3) GABRIELLA (LOW) -- I lo e y u, Alex. V O 3 3 INT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT (LATER) Alex is unlocking the door for Gabriella. Dressed, she looks younger. They're awkward with each other. GABRIELLA Don't think you have to say it because .1 say it, Alex. (SMILING BRIGHTLY) Doesn't mean anything.. ALEX It means something to me. GABRIELLA (EASED) We're good together, aren't we. Alex lets out a breath. ALEX Oh, yeah... We're pretty good. He kisses her goodbye, unlocks the door. She goes out to her Honda Civic. Alex doesn't wait to see her drive off before he heads back to finish cleaning up the tasting room. 4 4 INT. TASTING ROOM - NIGHT Alex straightens the last chair and starts to extract air from the open bottles. He hears a quiet CLANK of METAL. Instantly alert, he reaches for his jacket and turns off the-light. 5 5 INT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT Behind the cash register Alex opens a drawer and takes out a revolver. ze thumbs the safety off. The NOISES RECUR, like someone trying to break in through the back door from the parking lot. Alex slings his jacket casually over the gun. 5. 6 6 EXT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT Alex throws open the back door; he's counting on the element of surprise. HIS POV His red Cadillac convertible is idling nose.to the chain locked across the parking lot. A MAN in his twenties, whose tropical shirt fairly glows under the security lights, is using a pair of bolt cutters on the chain. ALEX (ADVANCING) You think you're gonna steal my car, asshole? The younger man whirls around. YOUNG MAN You scared me, man. A middle-aged man, a REPO MAN, calls out lazily from behind the wheel. REPO MAN This is not your car, sir. This car belongs to the Star Leasing Company. Alex buries the gun in the rear of his waistband as though he's rubbing his stiff back and cranks his smile to a higher wattage than the security lights. REPO MAN I can collect either the money or the car. Given how much you owe, I figure it's the car. The younger man has almost hacked through the chain. ALEX Pop the. trunk. REPO MAN We inventory the property at the yard. He keeps his eye on the chain, ready to gun the engine as soon as the exit is clear. ALEX I just want to show you something. Worked by the combination of natural curiosity and Alex's charm; the repo man pops the trunk and gets out of the still-running car. (CONTINUED) 6. 6 6 CONTINUED: In his hand he has the locking "Club" Alex usually uses to secure his. steering wheel. He's not stupid. Amused, Alex takes a step back, palms up. YOUNG MAN What are you doing? The repo man ignores him and looks in the trunk. ALEX Do you drink? REPO MAN Not on the job. What is this, booze? ALEX Two cases of single malt whiskey aged in the barrel before he was born. REPO MAN The Caddy's overdue. ALEX So are you. Drink it with the kid. Teach him what smooth is. Enjoy yourselves. Isn't that worth a few days' breather... (A BEAT) My accountant's a fuck-up. So am I, maybe, for not firing him. The bolt cutters clip through. The chain falls. YOUNG MAN We're clear. 7 7 INT. CADILLAC - NIGHT Alex is driving fast, top down, Samba MUSIC loud on the STEREO. He keeps time on the wheel as the Miami skyline cruises by. EXT. CADILLAC - NIGHT Alex turns into the garage of an expensive condominium building before the gate has slid all the way open. The TIRES SQUEAL as he powers the car around the corner. (CONTINUED) 7. 8 8 CONTINUED: A DUCATI MOTORCYCLE hogs his space. Alex lays the car in tightly. He has to squeeze out the door. He bumps the Ducati. It starts to topple; he grabs it before it goes over. 9 9 INT. CONDO - NIGHT Alex lets himself in. The entry ALARM starts to BEEP. He turns it off and resets it. The light has been left on in the kitchen. 10 10 INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT JASON, a handsome, troubled 17-year-old with long, dark hair, is filing barbs off a pile of fishing hooks on the center island. He looks harder and wiser than his years. Tackle is strewn everywhere. Some spaghetti remains in the pot it was cooked in and Jason's knife is standing upright in it. Alex walks into the kitchen. He makes an effort to be pleasant, although he's irritated by the mess, by the motorcycle. ALEX It's late, Jason. JASON I'm going out tonight. Alex exhales. ALEX You can't'fish all night and work all day. JASON Working for you doesn't exactly tax my mind. ALEX No wonder you drop bottles. JASON Fire me. ALEX Do you do it on purpose? JASON Fishing bought me my bike. (CONTINUED) 8. 10 10 CONTINUED: ALEX I almost knocked it over trying to get out of the car. JASON (SARCASTIC) I wasn't sure you were coming home. SEVERS The TOASTER OVEN DINGS. Jason takes out a muffin, it in two with his fishing knife. ALEX Use a regular knife. JASON This has a better edge. Feel it (pointing it at Alex, BLADE FLAT) -- feel it. Their voices are rising. ALEX Pointed, it's a fucking weapon. Put it away. JASON Hell with you. Jason exits to the stairs. ALEX And keep your voice down. Your mother's asleep. STAIRS JASON If you got home on time once in a while, maybe she could skip the chemical help. Alex is also on the stairs. ALEX You have no idea, none, zip, what goes on in a marriage. JASON Yeah, well, I'm learning more than I want to. (CONTINUED)' 9. 10 10 CONTINUED: (2) LANDING UPSTAIRS SUZANNE (O .S=.. ) Now what are you arguing about? SUZANNE is a pretty young woman in her late thirties with a sense of humor and irony. She's chemically relaxed, but not stupefied. She pulls a robe around herself, modest in front of her son; and although her body's not spectacular, like Gabriella's, she has a trim. athletic build. JASON It's not an argument. ALEX I asked him to clean up downstairs. SUZANNE (SOOTHING ALEX) Maybe he hadn't finished- ALEX A modicum of cooperation, you know? JASON A modicum. What's that. Modicum my ass. He pushes past his mother toward his own room. Suzanne follows him down the hallway, leaving. Alex behind. SUZANNE I don't like that tone from: you. JASON Then go to bed. ALEX Hey! JASON (RIGHT BACK) What! SUZANNE It's too late for this. ALEX Jason has gone into his room. He slams the door. CHOOSES enters his bedroom. Suzanne, alone for a-moment, to enter Jason's room. 10. 11 11 INT. JASON'S ROOM SUZANNE He's my husband. JASON (SOFTLY) I know, Mom. SUZANNE -- I still love him. JASON Whatever. She walks out. 12 12 INT. BATHROOM - NIGHT Alex stands under water as hot as he can stand, parboiling himself. Eyes squeezed shut, he lets out a long breath. His life demands more energy than he has anymore. He soaps himself thoroughly. 13 13 INT. MASTER BEDROOM - NIGHT Suzanne hears the front DOOR SLAM. Jason's DUCATI STARTS UP and ACCELERATES away. Alex comes out of the bathroom in a towel. SUZANNE (FONDLY) Lie down, I'll give you a back rub. She stumbles slightly against the bed, catches a bed post for balance, flops back on the bed with a laugh. SUZANNE -- maybe I'd better lie down. He bends down to kiss her, then heads for the television. Suzanne props herself up on her elbows. He pops a cassette into the VCR: porno, she assumes. She does her best. SUZANNE I liked the twin nurses. There was kind of a story. Alex brings the remote control back to bed. ALEX You'll like this one better. (CONTINUED) 11. 13 13 CONTINUED: He hangs his towel on a doorknob, slides into bed, starts the tape, which begins with sweat-slick dancing girls at Carnival. To Suzanne's astonishment, it turns out to be a travelog. SUZANNE Rio? ALEX I've been so busy. We could sneak away for a week.. Would you like that? SUZANNE If we really go. Last time I packed, we went nowhere. ALEX (SLEEPILY) Last time was different. SUZANNE (watching the tape) The beaches -- I thought we had a beach. I read how the hotels keep spotters on the roof with scopes, to keep thieves away from the guests. They can look at every inch of your body through the scope. (with a low laugh) Do you mind that I like that? Alex? He has fallen asleep. Tenderly she draws the sheet to his shoulder and settles down to watch the rest of the tape. DISSOLVE TO: 14 EXT. BOAT - DAWN 14 On the flying bridge of an old fishing boat, Jason eases the throttle to idle speed. The engine quiets down. The SWELLS SLAP harder against the wooden sides. The boat dips and dances to the music of the water. Jason swings down the ladder. He sets up his linis to troll. The starry dome of the sky is starting to brighten around its rim. Jason leans on the transom and stares at the flat, silvery wedge of wake. He breathes out a word. JASON :. Bite... (CONTINUED) 12. 14 14 CONTINUED: Nothing happens. He doesn't move. Then the top of one of the rods shivers slightly, goes still. Jason delicately fingers the rod like a blind man reading Braille, to feel for vibration. A smile pulls at his mouth. He steps behind the rod. The fish hits. JASON (CALLING OUT) Henryl Fish ont The line screams out. Jason's ready. He sets the hook. JASON Time to go to work, man! C'mon. A tall, black drifter appears from-below, still yawning, scratching. HENRY, 33. He wears a red Panama hat that's weathered his head for some time. HENRY Who we got? JASON Let's find out. He hauls back on the rod, the line rises from the ocean, they both recognize the fish at the end. HENRY Fucking sharks. Miami's fished out of the good stuff. Damn. He spits over the side. Jason grins. JASON This one's got more to worry about than you do. He starts to reel in the fish. Henry moves to the wheel.- HENRY Just shoot 'Jaws' in the water. I want to know the sucker's good and dead 'fore he sets a fin in my boat. You got a barb on that hook? . JASON Oh, yeah. Jason braces for the fight. 13. 15 15 EXT. DOCK - MORNING Jason and Henry are cutting the shark with the speed and dexterity of professionals. HENRY The Gulf, man, that's the place. And what makes you think fifty-fifty is right? My boat. My gas. JASON My skill. (slicing off the fins) ... My fins. 16 16 EXT. FISH MARKET - LONG SHOT - MORNING Jason and Henry slap their catch onto the Fishmonger's slippery counter. The market's noisy, men shouting. We see the negotiation from a distance. 17 EXT. DOCK - DAY (MINUTES LATE) 17 Jason and Henry walk through the hubbub. HENRY You cool? JASON I'm cool. HENRY We cool. Jason guns his Ducati. 18 INT. WINE STORE - DAY 18 Alex comes out of his office. ALEX Rob, has Jason shown up? A man's French-accented VOICE answers him from the store. ROBERT (O.S.) Not yet. ALEX You have his paycheck there? ROBERT All ready. (CONTINUED) 14. 18 18 CONTINUED: Alex takes it, and rips it up. 19 19 INT. CHINESE RESTAURANT - DAY The Chinese CHEF in the busy, steamy kitchen is inspecting the shark fins Jason has brought him. Jason is anxious to finish business and go. CHEF You no like my company? Fine. Who cares. Bring me more fin, you retire. You no want to retire? Good. Don't charge starving Chinese so much for these things. JASON You ever caught a shark? CHEF (BIGGER) You ever cook one? JASON Lemme -- lemme show you something. Jason pulls up the sleeve of his denim jacket to display a fresh gash across his arm. JASON He was already gaffed onto the side of the boat, good as dead. Two hours dead! And I was still too close to the mouth. Revenge is the last instinct to go, did you know that? The chef shrugs and shows his thumb, missing a joint. CHEF -- Work's a dangerous thing. (smiling with lots of TEETH) Nice fin, Jason. He tosses the fins in a cauldron of boiling water, slaps the CASH REGISTER on the side. It RINGS. 20 20 EXT. RESTAURANT - DAY Jason jams on his helmet and starts his. motorcycle, guns it down the street. (CONTINUED) 15. 20 20 CONTINUED: MIAMI SKYLINE Jason weaves through traffic, expert enough to take chances that goose the adrenalin. 21 21 EXT. WINE SHOP - DAY Robert and Alex are loading cases of wine into the trunk of the Caddy when Jason skids into the parking lot. He takes off his helmet. ALEX Just get in the car. 22 22 INT. CADILLAC - DAY (TRAVELING) Jason has fallen asleep while Alex drives. Alex picks up Jason's hand. Jerking awake, Jason tries to pull away, but his reflexes are sleep-slowed. Alex sniffs Jason's fingers, wrinkles his nose, lets Jason have his hand back. ALEX You stink. JASON I washed. ALEX There's Wash IN Dries in the glove compartment. Jason opens the compartment, finds the packets, opens one, rubs his hands. ALEX ... I'm trying here, Jason -- I really am. When you didn't want to go to college, I took your side, I said fine -- I mean, I -didn't finish college, and I've done all right. I gave you a job', a steady check, which is more than anybody else has done. And what do I get back? Shit. I've tried to teach you the business -- the care, the finesse... Jason laughs dismissively. (CONTINUED) 16. 22 22 CONTINUED: ALEX Well, look at it this way, Jason, someday you'll have your boat and I'll have my vineyard, and the best part '11 be they're nowhere near each other. JASON (SATISFIED) I'll send you a Christmas card. ALEX Save the stamp. They turn into the driveway to an expensive development. 23 23 EXT. SECURITY BOOTH, CORAL GABLES - DAY The Cadillac rolls to a stop at the ate. A tough, but amicable-looking armed guard in his forties, MIKE, opens the window of the air-conditioned booth. His RADIO is tuned to the FOOTBALL GAME. ALEX Hi, mike -- what's the score? MIKE (CHECKING THE APPOINTMENT BOARD) Dolphins down by nine, minute forty to go. It's over. ALEX Don't underestimate Marino. Mike ticks off the appointment, raises the gate. MIKE I told you, they don't have it this year. With a wave of acknowledgment for Mike, Alex.. drives onto the grounds. ALEX (YELLING BACK) Judas! Grinning, Mike routinely writes down the license plate number. 17. 24 24 EXT. CADILLAC - DAY Alex cruises past a collection of oversized villas, and turns into the driveway of the gaudiest. He and Jason climb out of the car. Alex opens the trunk. He loads two wine cases into Jason's arms, takes the third himself. They haven't said a word to each other. 25 25 EXT. VILLA - DAY Alex rings the intercom with his elbow. Gabriella's VOICE CRACKLES in response. GABRIELLA (V.O.) on the intercom) Who is it? ALEX Wine delivery. The INTERCOM CLICKS off. They hear FOOTSTEPS approaching. The door opens. Jason's eyes focus. He's hooked. Gabriella is smiling at Alex. She has her arms full of clean burp cloths. GABRIELLA Oh, the boss himself! ALEX (with a modest chuckle) How are you? She glances politely toward Jason, not at all expecting what she sees. A circuit connects between them. ALEX Gabriella takes care of Baby Reese. (TO GABRIELLA) This is my stepson, Jason. GABRIELLA (VERY CORRECT) How do you do. JASON Hi. GABRIELLA Is the wine for the boat? Come through the house. 18. 26 26 INT./EXT. VILLA - DAY They follow her inside. Jason takes in the richness of the place, but is more focussed on Gabriella. They exit TO T he lawn which leads to a dock. 27 27 EXT. REESES' BOAT DAY A sleek, ocean-going yacht is tied up at the dock, the crew unobtrusively at work. FRANK REESE, a powerful, confidant man in his mid-sixties, is sitting with his INSURANCE AGENT at a table on deck where policies are spread out next to a jewelry box. Reese's expensive 35- year-old wife DINA has turned her chair to sun her legs while she plays with the BABY. DINA -- what's the point of having it, if I can't wear it, Frank? AGENT (DEFERENTIALLY) You can wear it anywhere you like, Mrs. Reese -- except out of the country. Gabriella leads Alex and Jason aboard. Frank likes Alex and is glad to see him. Alex can't help glancing at Dina's long legs.. She smiles. FRANK Alex, should we insure the wine while we're at it? His arms tired,'Alex is happy to set down the case. ALEX Aren't you covered on your home policy? GABRIELLA (TO JASON) I'll show you, come on. AGENT How much wine are we talking about? Jason follows Gabriella down below, the VOICES on the deck fading. DINA (O.S.) Why bother insuring it? Let's drink it instead. 19. 28 28 INT. BOAT - DAY It's quiet inside, not tasteful but impressive, like everything else of the Reeses. Jason takes a stab at conversation. JASON Big boat. Gabriella laughs and looks over her shoulder at him. They're both kids. GABRIELLA ugly, isn't it. He grins and relaxes, looks around. JASON The fittings are definitely -- yeah on the ugly side. But damn, she's solid. GABRIELLA Oh, a boat type. JASON (proud, defensive) I like.boats. Gabriella shows him the climatized, built-in wine closet next to the galley. He starts to rack the bottles while she watches. He talks to stop her from leaving. JASON So where you headed? GABRIELLA I'm not going, 'I can't go. JASON They don't want to take the baby. GABRIELLA I don't have a green card, I can't leave the country. Baby goes with an American nurse. I house-sit. It's fine. JASON You don't like them. Gabriella laughs. (CONTINUED) 20. 28 28 CONTINUED: GABRIELLA God. I'm obvious. I just don't like working for people, but that's life. He chafes under authority the same way she does. JASON Doesn't have to be. GABRIELLA Maybe not with a rich stepfather. He laughs. JASON Worst kind. GABRIELLA (CORRECTIVELY) No. (A BEAT) You don't appreciate what you have, Jason. It's very poor where I came from. JASON Where's that? GABRIELLA Venezuela. Do I look it? JASON I don't know, I never been there. GABRIELLA Well, I don't. My mother's Indian. The India kind of Indian. (LAUGHS) Imagine a house where the father asks 'What's for dinner' in Spanish, and the mother answers 'Curry' in Hindi. 'Que hay para cenar' she says, 'Murgee, masala, ghaal.' He says, 'No es importante.' No wonder I'm nuts. JASON You don't seem too nuts. She laughs. GABRIELLA You don't know mel (OOR1TINUED ) 21. 28 CONTINUED: .( 2) 28 They're suddenly both very aware that they're alone together. 29 29 EXT. BOAT, THE DECK - DAY The agent is putting a magnificent diamond necklace in a velvet pouch that he fastidiously cinches and ties. Alex looks away from it to take a bottle out of the remaining case on deck. AGENT -- so back to the safe it goes -- Dina lifts up the baby and smells its bottom. FRANK Dina, that's disgusting. DINA The alternative is using your fingers, Frank. which offends you more? Alex laughs. Frank pushes back his chair. FRANK Don't encourage her, Alex. Her mouth is big enough. Dina is hurt. FRANK (to the agent) I'll show you that painting in our stateroom. The agent follows him away. ALEX (kindly; to Dina) Do you want to see the label? She hides her hurt by not looking at him. DINA Just open the bottle, Alex. Pour us both a glass. I'm not allowed to drink alone. When she turns her head and looks at him, she's flirting. 22. 30 30 INT. BOAT - DAY Jason has almost finished storing the wine. Gabriella is sitting on a bar stool at the galley,. listening to him, snared by the quiet passion in his voice. JASON -- when you're skimming along the water, nothing between you and the bottom of the sea but a layer of wood, your thoughts... end. All that noise inside your head? Gabriella nods, understanding exactly. JASON . . . Stops. Dina's VOICE booms over the INTERCOM, startling both of them. The BABY is FUSSING. Gabriella makes a gesture of apology to Jason. DINA (V.O.) Gabriella? Are you down there? GABRIELLA Yes, Mrs. Reese. DINA (V.0.) The baby needs you. And bring a pacifier for Frank. GABRIELLA Right there. She slides off the stool. JASON You should come out with me sometime. She smiles without answering and goes topside. His eyes follow her. A Deckhand comes down the ladder with the remaining case of wine for him to stock. 31 EXT. BOAT - DAY 31 Gabriella. lifts the fussy baby from Dina, her hands sure and calming. She coos nonsense to his little ear as she- reaches for the diaper bag and slings it over her arm. GABRIELLA He.'s ready for his nap. (CONTINUED) 23. 31 31 CONTINUED: Frank and the agent return from another section of the boat. FRANK You doing up to the house, Gabriella? (off her nod) Want to take this with you? He sweeps the policies into a large manila envelope, drops the 'pouch in with them, ties the string, hands it to her. FRANK Put it on my desk. He looks at his wife with her glass, Alex with his glass, and doesn't like it. His voice hardens slightly. FRANK Are we all set, Alex? ALEX I'm going to check the storage room, see what else'll travel. I know I put some vintage Armagnac in there, maybe some Porto? He heads down the gangplank. FRANK He's a vendor, Dina. It's like drinking with the help. DINA (DISARMING HIM) Did you pick the wine, sweetie? It's lovely. Frank grins, pleased. His hand curves around her shoulder. He has forgotten about the other vendor present, the agent. AGENT (AWKWARDLY) So I'll messenger over the rider for your signature -- Frank laughs out loud, in a better mood: FRANK -- You still here? Dina laughs, too. 24. 32 32 INT. VILLA, UPSTAIRS - DAY Gabriella settles the baby on his side, the only Reese she likes. She starts to close the shutters. Lullaby MUSIC is playing on the baby's TAPE DECK. IN THE HALLWAY She closes the nursery door as softly as possible. A man's hands go around her throat. Her gasp dies stillborn. It's Alex, kissing her.ear, holding Dina's diamond necklace to her neck. ALEX (MURMURING) Did he ever come on to you? GABRIELLA (ANGRY) Don't sneak up on me that way! ALEX Look how beautiful you are. He's an idiot if he didn't. Now she sees the necklace. GABRIELLA What are you doing? She snatches the necklace away from him and fairly runs down the hall to Frank's study. IN THE STUDY She tries td stuff it in the pouch. Alex is right behind her. GABRIELLA You're going to get me fired and deported. ALEX Just put it on for a minute. Look at yourself. She slaps at his hands half-heartedly, but it's so tempting. ALEX See what you deserve. GABRIELLA (SUCCUMBING) We're both crazy. (CONTINUED) 25. 32 32 CONTINUED: Alex moves her hair away. She lets him hook the necklace around her neck. He reaches over to open the closet door, fitted out now as a file cabinet, but with the original closet mirror still in place. The safe is visible. Gabriella stares at her reflection, Alex behind her, watching her. The necklace changes her posture. She angles her chin slightly, twists back her hair. Diamonds suit her. GABRIELLA (TITILLATED) It's vulgar. ALEX into her ear) Not against your skin. He starts to pleat her T-shirt loose from her jeans. She doesn't resist. They watch each other

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Blood and Wine Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS BLOOD AND WINE Written by Nick Villiers SECOND DRAFT DECEMBER 12, 1994 FADE IN: A PAIR OF HANDS men's hands, nicely groomed, hold a small white terry towel spoiled by blood-red spots. The hands rinse the towel in a copper bar sink. The stains soften but stay. A tan jacket sleeve, spotted the same way, moves INTO FRAM. The hands dab the wet towel at the spots, with no more success, and throw it into the sink. It falls half in, still dripping the stains a drop at a time to the floor. ALL IN CLOSEUP The owner of the hands walks to a wine rack, opens a bottle of white wine, drizzles the wine on the jacket sleeve. The stains disappear. He hangs his jacket on a hook and walks from THE CELLAR and up the narrow stairs. His FOOTFALLS ECHO against the unadorned cement block walls. We see his shape, mid- forties, powerful, his shirt pulled out. He's carrying the open bottle by the neck. 2 INT. WINE STORE - NIGHT Still seen from behind, the man emerges from the cellar into a contrastingly elegant space with a wood-beamed. ceiling, vaguely European. He walks along a narrow aisle of wooden diamond bins. As the space widens his foot hits something in his path. He bends to find a shoe. He glances about nervously. There are shutters on the storefront windows. Shoe in hand, he tightens the shutters. We see his profile, a good-looking man. He walks toward a brighter room at the back of the store, the Tasting Room. Now he retrieves a pair of women's trousers from the floor, and as he straightens up we see his entire face, genial, venial, redeemed by his smile. ALEX GATES. He speaks nonchalantly toward the room. ALEX Twenty people tonight. I got a South Beach widow, a plastic surgeon -- they actually came together. (A BEAT) These people -- all they really want is something to brag about at dinner parties. He swigs from the bottle of white wine, grimaces, detours behind the counter, and spits the mouthful into the plastic lined wastebasket. He throws the bottle away. (CONTINUED) 2. 2 2 CONTINUED: There's a basket of baguettes on the counter. Alex breaks off an end and chews it to rid his mouth of the taste of the wine. Still chewing, he walks toward the tasting room. ALEX There I was, passing the wine, passing the bread, I suddenly felt like the priest at Masst Or maybe Mass started out as a wine tasting, and Jesus was a salesman. what do you think? He goes into THE TASTING ROOM It seems empty except for a large wooden table, folding chairs in disarray, open bottles clustered at one end of the table. A chalkboard on the wall has CHATEAU BEYCHEVELLE written across it at the top, vintages listed underneath. The woman's voice that replies is Gabriella's. GABRIELLA (0.S.) (with a throaty laugh) Maybe I should get dressed. Leaning against the corner is a woman wearing only her panties and a shirt. In her mid-twenties she has striking South American looks. GABRIELLA VASQUEZ. She's sipping red wine from a plastic glass. GABRIETM I don't want to spoil a religious experience. ALEX -- Ever heard of Georges Duboeuf? He throws away some of the glasses. ALEX Duboeuf has a nose and a palate -- like a gift from God. He can taste a single grape before the harvest... and describe the beaujolais it's going to produce. She laughs. GABRIELLA Oh, you have competition. (CONTINUED) 3. 2 2 CONTINUED: (2) ALEX (SLIGHTLY ANNOYED) You know how many bottles I have in this store? Open any one of 'em, I'll tell you the vintage and vintner, b lindfolded. He bends down to pick up the chunks of baguette strewn on the floor. He doesn't see her slip off her panties. She walks behind him, twirling them into a tight band. She whips them over his eyes. He laughs. GABRIELLA Okay. Show me. ALEX Victoria's Secret 95. She passes her glass under his nose. ALEX Gabriella, I picked these wines. GABRIELLA So what is it? ALEX All I can smell is your perfume. She laughs. GABRIELLA I'm not wearing any. ALEX I even bought it for you. She opens her shirt. She's not wearing a bra. She lowers her breast to the glass and then to his mouth. GABRIELLA Tell me now. He kisses her wet breast. ALEX (WITHOUT HESITATION) Beychevelle '83. Lot of body. Very aggressive. He pulls off the panty blindfold, kisses her on the mouth softly, then fully. (CONTINUED) 4. 2 2 CONTINUED: (3) GABRIELLA (LOW) -- I lo e y u, Alex. V O 3 3 INT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT (LATER) Alex is unlocking the door for Gabriella. Dressed, she looks younger. They're awkward with each other. GABRIELLA Don't think you have to say it because .1 say it, Alex. (SMILING BRIGHTLY) Doesn't mean anything.. ALEX It means something to me. GABRIELLA (EASED) We're good together, aren't we. Alex lets out a breath. ALEX Oh, yeah... We're pretty good. He kisses her goodbye, unlocks the door. She goes out to her Honda Civic. Alex doesn't wait to see her drive off before he heads back to finish cleaning up the tasting room. 4 4 INT. TASTING ROOM - NIGHT Alex straightens the last chair and starts to extract air from the open bottles. He hears a quiet CLANK of METAL. Instantly alert, he reaches for his jacket and turns off the-light. 5 5 INT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT Behind the cash register Alex opens a drawer and takes out a revolver. ze thumbs the safety off. The NOISES RECUR, like someone trying to break in through the back door from the parking lot. Alex slings his jacket casually over the gun. 5. 6 6 EXT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT Alex throws open the back door; he's counting on the element of surprise. HIS POV His red Cadillac convertible is idling nose.to the chain locked across the parking lot. A MAN in his twenties, whose tropical shirt fairly glows under the security lights, is using a pair of bolt cutters on the chain. ALEX (ADVANCING) You think you're gonna steal my car, asshole? The younger man whirls around. YOUNG MAN You scared me, man. A middle-aged man, a REPO MAN, calls out lazily from behind the wheel. REPO MAN This is not your car, sir. This car belongs to the Star Leasing Company. Alex buries the gun in the rear of his waistband as though he's rubbing his stiff back and cranks his smile to a higher wattage than the security lights. REPO MAN I can collect either the money or the car. Given how much you owe, I figure it's the car. The younger man has almost hacked through the chain. ALEX Pop the. trunk. REPO MAN We inventory the property at the yard. He keeps his eye on the chain, ready to gun the engine as soon as the exit is clear. ALEX I just want to show you something. Worked by the combination of natural curiosity and Alex's charm; the repo man pops the trunk and gets out of the still-running car. (CONTINUED) 6. 6 6 CONTINUED: In his hand he has the locking "Club" Alex usually uses to secure his. steering wheel. He's not stupid. Amused, Alex takes a step back, palms up. YOUNG MAN What are you doing? The repo man ignores him and looks in the trunk. ALEX Do you drink? REPO MAN Not on the job. What is this, booze? ALEX Two cases of single malt whiskey aged in the barrel before he was born. REPO MAN The Caddy's overdue. ALEX So are you. Drink it with the kid. Teach him what smooth is. Enjoy yourselves. Isn't that worth a few days' breather... (A BEAT) My accountant's a fuck-up. So am I, maybe, for not firing him. The bolt cutters clip through. The chain falls. YOUNG MAN We're clear. 7 7 INT. CADILLAC - NIGHT Alex is driving fast, top down, Samba MUSIC loud on the STEREO. He keeps time on the wheel as the Miami skyline cruises by. EXT. CADILLAC - NIGHT Alex turns into the garage of an expensive condominium building before the gate has slid all the way open. The TIRES SQUEAL as he powers the car around the corner. (CONTINUED) 7. 8 8 CONTINUED: A DUCATI MOTORCYCLE hogs his space. Alex lays the car in tightly. He has to squeeze out the door. He bumps the Ducati. It starts to topple; he grabs it before it goes over. 9 9 INT. CONDO - NIGHT Alex lets himself in. The entry ALARM starts to BEEP. He turns it off and resets it. The light has been left on in the kitchen. 10 10 INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT JASON, a handsome, troubled 17-year-old with long, dark hair, is filing barbs off a pile of fishing hooks on the center island. He looks harder and wiser than his years. Tackle is strewn everywhere. Some spaghetti remains in the pot it was cooked in and Jason's knife is standing upright in it. Alex walks into the kitchen. He makes an effort to be pleasant, although he's irritated by the mess, by the motorcycle. ALEX It's late, Jason. JASON I'm going out tonight. Alex exhales. ALEX You can't'fish all night and work all day. JASON Working for you doesn't exactly tax my mind. ALEX No wonder you drop bottles. JASON Fire me. ALEX Do you do it on purpose? JASON Fishing bought me my bike. (CONTINUED) 8. 10 10 CONTINUED: ALEX I almost knocked it over trying to get out of the car. JASON (SARCASTIC) I wasn't sure you were coming home. SEVERS The TOASTER OVEN DINGS. Jason takes out a muffin, it in two with his fishing knife. ALEX Use a regular knife. JASON This has a better edge. Feel it (pointing it at Alex, BLADE FLAT) -- feel it. Their voices are rising. ALEX Pointed, it's a fucking weapon. Put it away. JASON Hell with you. Jason exits to the stairs. ALEX And keep your voice down. Your mother's asleep. STAIRS JASON If you got home on time once in a while, maybe she could skip the chemical help. Alex is also on the stairs. ALEX You have no idea, none, zip, what goes on in a marriage. JASON Yeah, well, I'm learning more than I want to. (CONTINUED)' 9. 10 10 CONTINUED: (2) LANDING UPSTAIRS SUZANNE (O .S=.. ) Now what are you arguing about? SUZANNE is a pretty young woman in her late thirties with a sense of humor and irony. She's chemically relaxed, but not stupefied. She pulls a robe around herself, modest in front of her son; and although her body's not spectacular, like Gabriella's, she has a trim. athletic build. JASON It's not an argument. ALEX I asked him to clean up downstairs. SUZANNE (SOOTHING ALEX) Maybe he hadn't finished- ALEX A modicum of cooperation, you know? JASON A modicum. What's that. Modicum my ass. He pushes past his mother toward his own room. Suzanne follows him down the hallway, leaving. Alex behind. SUZANNE I don't like that tone from: you. JASON Then go to bed. ALEX Hey! JASON (RIGHT BACK) What! SUZANNE It's too late for this. ALEX Jason has gone into his room. He slams the door. CHOOSES enters his bedroom. Suzanne, alone for a-moment, to enter Jason's room. 10. 11 11 INT. JASON'S ROOM SUZANNE He's my husband. JASON (SOFTLY) I know, Mom. SUZANNE -- I still love him. JASON Whatever. She walks out. 12 12 INT. BATHROOM - NIGHT Alex stands under water as hot as he can stand, parboiling himself. Eyes squeezed shut, he lets out a long breath. His life demands more energy than he has anymore. He soaps himself thoroughly. 13 13 INT. MASTER BEDROOM - NIGHT Suzanne hears the front DOOR SLAM. Jason's DUCATI STARTS UP and ACCELERATES away. Alex comes out of the bathroom in a towel. SUZANNE (FONDLY) Lie down, I'll give you a back rub. She stumbles slightly against the bed, catches a bed post for balance, flops back on the bed with a laugh. SUZANNE -- maybe I'd better lie down. He bends down to kiss her, then heads for the television. Suzanne props herself up on her elbows. He pops a cassette into the VCR: porno, she assumes. She does her best. SUZANNE I liked the twin nurses. There was kind of a story. Alex brings the remote control back to bed. ALEX You'll like this one better. (CONTINUED) 11. 13 13 CONTINUED: He hangs his towel on a doorknob, slides into bed, starts the tape, which begins with sweat-slick dancing girls at Carnival. To Suzanne's astonishment, it turns out to be a travelog. SUZANNE Rio? ALEX I've been so busy. We could sneak away for a week.. Would you like that? SUZANNE If we really go. Last time I packed, we went nowhere. ALEX (SLEEPILY) Last time was different. SUZANNE (watching the tape) The beaches -- I thought we had a beach. I read how the hotels keep spotters on the roof with scopes, to keep thieves away from the guests. They can look at every inch of your body through the scope. (with a low laugh) Do you mind that I like that? Alex? He has fallen asleep. Tenderly she draws the sheet to his shoulder and settles down to watch the rest of the tape. DISSOLVE TO: 14 EXT. BOAT - DAWN 14 On the flying bridge of an old fishing boat, Jason eases the throttle to idle speed. The engine quiets down. The SWELLS SLAP harder against the wooden sides. The boat dips and dances to the music of the water. Jason swings down the ladder. He sets up his linis to troll. The starry dome of the sky is starting to brighten around its rim. Jason leans on the transom and stares at the flat, silvery wedge of wake. He breathes out a word. JASON :. Bite... (CONTINUED) 12. 14 14 CONTINUED: Nothing happens. He doesn't move. Then the top of one of the rods shivers slightly, goes still. Jason delicately fingers the rod like a blind man reading Braille, to feel for vibration. A smile pulls at his mouth. He steps behind the rod. The fish hits. JASON (CALLING OUT) Henryl Fish ont The line screams out. Jason's ready. He sets the hook. JASON Time to go to work, man! C'mon. A tall, black drifter appears from-below, still yawning, scratching. HENRY, 33. He wears a red Panama hat that's weathered his head for some time. HENRY Who we got? JASON Let's find out. He hauls back on the rod, the line rises from the ocean, they both recognize the fish at the end. HENRY Fucking sharks. Miami's fished out of the good stuff. Damn. He spits over the side. Jason grins. JASON This one's got more to worry about than you do. He starts to reel in the fish. Henry moves to the wheel.- HENRY Just shoot 'Jaws' in the water. I want to know the sucker's good and dead 'fore he sets a fin in my boat. You got a barb on that hook? . JASON Oh, yeah. Jason braces for the fight. 13. 15 15 EXT. DOCK - MORNING Jason and Henry are cutting the shark with the speed and dexterity of professionals. HENRY The Gulf, man, that's the place. And what makes you think fifty-fifty is right? My boat. My gas. JASON My skill. (slicing off the fins) ... My fins. 16 16 EXT. FISH MARKET - LONG SHOT - MORNING Jason and Henry slap their catch onto the Fishmonger's slippery counter. The market's noisy, men shouting. We see the negotiation from a distance. 17 EXT. DOCK - DAY (MINUTES LATE) 17 Jason and Henry walk through the hubbub. HENRY You cool? JASON I'm cool. HENRY We cool. Jason guns his Ducati. 18 INT. WINE STORE - DAY 18 Alex comes out of his office. ALEX Rob, has Jason shown up? A man's French-accented VOICE answers him from the store. ROBERT (O.S.) Not yet. ALEX You have his paycheck there? ROBERT All ready. (CONTINUED) 14. 18 18 CONTINUED: Alex takes it, and rips it up. 19 19 INT. CHINESE RESTAURANT - DAY The Chinese CHEF in the busy, steamy kitchen is inspecting the shark fins Jason has brought him. Jason is anxious to finish business and go. CHEF You no like my company? Fine. Who cares. Bring me more fin, you retire. You no want to retire? Good. Don't charge starving Chinese so much for these things. JASON You ever caught a shark? CHEF (BIGGER) You ever cook one? JASON Lemme -- lemme show you something. Jason pulls up the sleeve of his denim jacket to display a fresh gash across his arm. JASON He was already gaffed onto the side of the boat, good as dead. Two hours dead! And I was still too close to the mouth. Revenge is the last instinct to go, did you know that? The chef shrugs and shows his thumb, missing a joint. CHEF -- Work's a dangerous thing. (smiling with lots of TEETH) Nice fin, Jason. He tosses the fins in a cauldron of boiling water, slaps the CASH REGISTER on the side. It RINGS. 20 20 EXT. RESTAURANT - DAY Jason jams on his helmet and starts his. motorcycle, guns it down the street. (CONTINUED) 15. 20 20 CONTINUED: MIAMI SKYLINE Jason weaves through traffic, expert enough to take chances that goose the adrenalin. 21 21 EXT. WINE SHOP - DAY Robert and Alex are loading cases of wine into the trunk of the Caddy when Jason skids into the parking lot. He takes off his helmet. ALEX Just get in the car. 22 22 INT. CADILLAC - DAY (TRAVELING) Jason has fallen asleep while Alex drives. Alex picks up Jason's hand. Jerking awake, Jason tries to pull away, but his reflexes are sleep-slowed. Alex sniffs Jason's fingers, wrinkles his nose, lets Jason have his hand back. ALEX You stink. JASON I washed. ALEX There's Wash IN Dries in the glove compartment. Jason opens the compartment, finds the packets, opens one, rubs his hands. ALEX ... I'm trying here, Jason -- I really am. When you didn't want to go to college, I took your side, I said fine -- I mean, I -didn't finish college, and I've done all right. I gave you a job', a steady check, which is more than anybody else has done. And what do I get back? Shit. I've tried to teach you the business -- the care, the finesse... Jason laughs dismissively. (CONTINUED) 16. 22 22 CONTINUED: ALEX Well, look at it this way, Jason, someday you'll have your boat and I'll have my vineyard, and the best part '11 be they're nowhere near each other. JASON (SATISFIED) I'll send you a Christmas card. ALEX Save the stamp. They turn into the driveway to an expensive development. 23 23 EXT. SECURITY BOOTH, CORAL GABLES - DAY The Cadillac rolls to a stop at the ate. A tough, but amicable-looking armed guard in his forties, MIKE, opens the window of the air-conditioned booth. His RADIO is tuned to the FOOTBALL GAME. ALEX Hi, mike -- what's the score? MIKE (CHECKING THE APPOINTMENT BOARD) Dolphins down by nine, minute forty to go. It's over. ALEX Don't underestimate Marino. Mike ticks off the appointment, raises the gate. MIKE I told you, they don't have it this year. With a wave of acknowledgment for Mike, Alex.. drives onto the grounds. ALEX (YELLING BACK) Judas! Grinning, Mike routinely writes down the license plate number. 17. 24 24 EXT. CADILLAC - DAY Alex cruises past a collection of oversized villas, and turns into the driveway of the gaudiest. He and Jason climb out of the car. Alex opens the trunk. He loads two wine cases into Jason's arms, takes the third himself. They haven't said a word to each other. 25 25 EXT. VILLA - DAY Alex rings the intercom with his elbow. Gabriella's VOICE CRACKLES in response. GABRIELLA (V.O.) on the intercom) Who is it? ALEX Wine delivery. The INTERCOM CLICKS off. They hear FOOTSTEPS approaching. The door opens. Jason's eyes focus. He's hooked. Gabriella is smiling at Alex. She has her arms full of clean burp cloths. GABRIELLA Oh, the boss himself! ALEX (with a modest chuckle) How are you? She glances politely toward Jason, not at all expecting what she sees. A circuit connects between them. ALEX Gabriella takes care of Baby Reese. (TO GABRIELLA) This is my stepson, Jason. GABRIELLA (VERY CORRECT) How do you do. JASON Hi. GABRIELLA Is the wine for the boat? Come through the house. 18. 26 26 INT./EXT. VILLA - DAY They follow her inside. Jason takes in the richness of the place, but is more focussed on Gabriella. They exit TO T he lawn which leads to a dock. 27 27 EXT. REESES' BOAT DAY A sleek, ocean-going yacht is tied up at the dock, the crew unobtrusively at work. FRANK REESE, a powerful, confidant man in his mid-sixties, is sitting with his INSURANCE AGENT at a table on deck where policies are spread out next to a jewelry box. Reese's expensive 35- year-old wife DINA has turned her chair to sun her legs while she plays with the BABY. DINA -- what's the point of having it, if I can't wear it, Frank? AGENT (DEFERENTIALLY) You can wear it anywhere you like, Mrs. Reese -- except out of the country. Gabriella leads Alex and Jason aboard. Frank likes Alex and is glad to see him. Alex can't help glancing at Dina's long legs.. She smiles. FRANK Alex, should we insure the wine while we're at it? His arms tired,'Alex is happy to set down the case. ALEX Aren't you covered on your home policy? GABRIELLA (TO JASON) I'll show you, come on. AGENT How much wine are we talking about? Jason follows Gabriella down below, the VOICES on the deck fading. DINA (O.S.) Why bother insuring it? Let's drink it instead. 19. 28 28 INT. BOAT - DAY It's quiet inside, not tasteful but impressive, like everything else of the Reeses. Jason takes a stab at conversation. JASON Big boat. Gabriella laughs and looks over her shoulder at him. They're both kids. GABRIELLA ugly, isn't it. He grins and relaxes, looks around. JASON The fittings are definitely -- yeah on the ugly side. But damn, she's solid. GABRIELLA Oh, a boat type. JASON (proud, defensive) I like.boats. Gabriella shows him the climatized, built-in wine closet next to the galley. He starts to rack the bottles while she watches. He talks to stop her from leaving. JASON So where you headed? GABRIELLA I'm not going, 'I can't go. JASON They don't want to take the baby. GABRIELLA I don't have a green card, I can't leave the country. Baby goes with an American nurse. I house-sit. It's fine. JASON You don't like them. Gabriella laughs. (CONTINUED) 20. 28 28 CONTINUED: GABRIELLA God. I'm obvious. I just don't like working for people, but that's life. He chafes under authority the same way she does. JASON Doesn't have to be. GABRIELLA Maybe not with a rich stepfather. He laughs. JASON Worst kind. GABRIELLA (CORRECTIVELY) No. (A BEAT) You don't appreciate what you have, Jason. It's very poor where I came from. JASON Where's that? GABRIELLA Venezuela. Do I look it? JASON I don't know, I never been there. GABRIELLA Well, I don't. My mother's Indian. The India kind of Indian. (LAUGHS) Imagine a house where the father asks 'What's for dinner' in Spanish, and the mother answers 'Curry' in Hindi. 'Que hay para cenar' she says, 'Murgee, masala, ghaal.' He says, 'No es importante.' No wonder I'm nuts. JASON You don't seem too nuts. She laughs. GABRIELLA You don't know mel (OOR1TINUED ) 21. 28 CONTINUED: .( 2) 28 They're suddenly both very aware that they're alone together. 29 29 EXT. BOAT, THE DECK - DAY The agent is putting a magnificent diamond necklace in a velvet pouch that he fastidiously cinches and ties. Alex looks away from it to take a bottle out of the remaining case on deck. AGENT -- so back to the safe it goes -- Dina lifts up the baby and smells its bottom. FRANK Dina, that's disgusting. DINA The alternative is using your fingers, Frank. which offends you more? Alex laughs. Frank pushes back his chair. FRANK Don't encourage her, Alex. Her mouth is big enough. Dina is hurt. FRANK (to the agent) I'll show you that painting in our stateroom. The agent follows him away. ALEX (kindly; to Dina) Do you want to see the label? She hides her hurt by not looking at him. DINA Just open the bottle, Alex. Pour us both a glass. I'm not allowed to drink alone. When she turns her head and looks at him, she's flirting. 22. 30 30 INT. BOAT - DAY Jason has almost finished storing the wine. Gabriella is sitting on a bar stool at the galley,. listening to him, snared by the quiet passion in his voice. JASON -- when you're skimming along the water, nothing between you and the bottom of the sea but a layer of wood, your thoughts... end. All that noise inside your head? Gabriella nods, understanding exactly. JASON . . . Stops. Dina's VOICE booms over the INTERCOM, startling both of them. The BABY is FUSSING. Gabriella makes a gesture of apology to Jason. DINA (V.O.) Gabriella? Are you down there? GABRIELLA Yes, Mrs. Reese. DINA (V.0.) The baby needs you. And bring a pacifier for Frank. GABRIELLA Right there. She slides off the stool. JASON You should come out with me sometime. She smiles without answering and goes topside. His eyes follow her. A Deckhand comes down the ladder with the remaining case of wine for him to stock. 31 EXT. BOAT - DAY 31 Gabriella. lifts the fussy baby from Dina, her hands sure and calming. She coos nonsense to his little ear as she- reaches for the diaper bag and slings it over her arm. GABRIELLA He.'s ready for his nap. (CONTINUED) 23. 31 31 CONTINUED: Frank and the agent return from another section of the boat. FRANK You doing up to the house, Gabriella? (off her nod) Want to take this with you? He sweeps the policies into a large manila envelope, drops the 'pouch in with them, ties the string, hands it to her. FRANK Put it on my desk. He looks at his wife with her glass, Alex with his glass, and doesn't like it. His voice hardens slightly. FRANK Are we all set, Alex? ALEX I'm going to check the storage room, see what else'll travel. I know I put some vintage Armagnac in there, maybe some Porto? He heads down the gangplank. FRANK He's a vendor, Dina. It's like drinking with the help. DINA (DISARMING HIM) Did you pick the wine, sweetie? It's lovely. Frank grins, pleased. His hand curves around her shoulder. He has forgotten about the other vendor present, the agent. AGENT (AWKWARDLY) So I'll messenger over the rider for your signature -- Frank laughs out loud, in a better mood: FRANK -- You still here? Dina laughs, too. 24. 32 32 INT. VILLA, UPSTAIRS - DAY Gabriella settles the baby on his side, the only Reese she likes. She starts to close the shutters. Lullaby MUSIC is playing on the baby's TAPE DECK. IN THE HALLWAY She closes the nursery door as softly as possible. A man's hands go around her throat. Her gasp dies stillborn. It's Alex, kissing her.ear, holding Dina's diamond necklace to her neck. ALEX (MURMURING) Did he ever come on to you? GABRIELLA (ANGRY) Don't sneak up on me that way! ALEX Look how beautiful you are. He's an idiot if he didn't. Now she sees the necklace. GABRIELLA What are you doing? She snatches the necklace away from him and fairly runs down the hall to Frank's study. IN THE STUDY She tries td stuff it in the pouch. Alex is right behind her. GABRIELLA You're going to get me fired and deported. ALEX Just put it on for a minute. Look at yourself. She slaps at his hands half-heartedly, but it's so tempting. ALEX See what you deserve. GABRIELLA (SUCCUMBING) We're both crazy. (CONTINUED) 25. 32 32 CONTINUED: Alex moves her hair away. She lets him hook the necklace around her neck. He reaches over to open the closet door, fitted out now as a file cabinet, but with the original closet mirror still in place. The safe is visible. Gabriella stares at her reflection, Alex behind her, watching her. The necklace changes her posture. She angles her chin slightly, twists back her hair. Diamonds suit her. GABRIELLA (TITILLATED) It's vulgar. ALEX into her ear) Not against your skin. He starts to pleat her T-shirt loose from her jeans. She doesn't resist. They watch each other

escutcheon

How many times the word 'escutcheon' appears in the text?

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Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS BLOOD AND WINE Written by Nick Villiers SECOND DRAFT DECEMBER 12, 1994 FADE IN: A PAIR OF HANDS men's hands, nicely groomed, hold a small white terry towel spoiled by blood-red spots. The hands rinse the towel in a copper bar sink. The stains soften but stay. A tan jacket sleeve, spotted the same way, moves INTO FRAM. The hands dab the wet towel at the spots, with no more success, and throw it into the sink. It falls half in, still dripping the stains a drop at a time to the floor. ALL IN CLOSEUP The owner of the hands walks to a wine rack, opens a bottle of white wine, drizzles the wine on the jacket sleeve. The stains disappear. He hangs his jacket on a hook and walks from THE CELLAR and up the narrow stairs. His FOOTFALLS ECHO against the unadorned cement block walls. We see his shape, mid- forties, powerful, his shirt pulled out. He's carrying the open bottle by the neck. 2 INT. WINE STORE - NIGHT Still seen from behind, the man emerges from the cellar into a contrastingly elegant space with a wood-beamed. ceiling, vaguely European. He walks along a narrow aisle of wooden diamond bins. As the space widens his foot hits something in his path. He bends to find a shoe. He glances about nervously. There are shutters on the storefront windows. Shoe in hand, he tightens the shutters. We see his profile, a good-looking man. He walks toward a brighter room at the back of the store, the Tasting Room. Now he retrieves a pair of women's trousers from the floor, and as he straightens up we see his entire face, genial, venial, redeemed by his smile. ALEX GATES. He speaks nonchalantly toward the room. ALEX Twenty people tonight. I got a South Beach widow, a plastic surgeon -- they actually came together. (A BEAT) These people -- all they really want is something to brag about at dinner parties. He swigs from the bottle of white wine, grimaces, detours behind the counter, and spits the mouthful into the plastic lined wastebasket. He throws the bottle away. (CONTINUED) 2. 2 2 CONTINUED: There's a basket of baguettes on the counter. Alex breaks off an end and chews it to rid his mouth of the taste of the wine. Still chewing, he walks toward the tasting room. ALEX There I was, passing the wine, passing the bread, I suddenly felt like the priest at Masst Or maybe Mass started out as a wine tasting, and Jesus was a salesman. what do you think? He goes into THE TASTING ROOM It seems empty except for a large wooden table, folding chairs in disarray, open bottles clustered at one end of the table. A chalkboard on the wall has CHATEAU BEYCHEVELLE written across it at the top, vintages listed underneath. The woman's voice that replies is Gabriella's. GABRIELLA (0.S.) (with a throaty laugh) Maybe I should get dressed. Leaning against the corner is a woman wearing only her panties and a shirt. In her mid-twenties she has striking South American looks. GABRIELLA VASQUEZ. She's sipping red wine from a plastic glass. GABRIETM I don't want to spoil a religious experience. ALEX -- Ever heard of Georges Duboeuf? He throws away some of the glasses. ALEX Duboeuf has a nose and a palate -- like a gift from God. He can taste a single grape before the harvest... and describe the beaujolais it's going to produce. She laughs. GABRIELLA Oh, you have competition. (CONTINUED) 3. 2 2 CONTINUED: (2) ALEX (SLIGHTLY ANNOYED) You know how many bottles I have in this store? Open any one of 'em, I'll tell you the vintage and vintner, b lindfolded. He bends down to pick up the chunks of baguette strewn on the floor. He doesn't see her slip off her panties. She walks behind him, twirling them into a tight band. She whips them over his eyes. He laughs. GABRIELLA Okay. Show me. ALEX Victoria's Secret 95. She passes her glass under his nose. ALEX Gabriella, I picked these wines. GABRIELLA So what is it? ALEX All I can smell is your perfume. She laughs. GABRIELLA I'm not wearing any. ALEX I even bought it for you. She opens her shirt. She's not wearing a bra. She lowers her breast to the glass and then to his mouth. GABRIELLA Tell me now. He kisses her wet breast. ALEX (WITHOUT HESITATION) Beychevelle '83. Lot of body. Very aggressive. He pulls off the panty blindfold, kisses her on the mouth softly, then fully. (CONTINUED) 4. 2 2 CONTINUED: (3) GABRIELLA (LOW) -- I lo e y u, Alex. V O 3 3 INT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT (LATER) Alex is unlocking the door for Gabriella. Dressed, she looks younger. They're awkward with each other. GABRIELLA Don't think you have to say it because .1 say it, Alex. (SMILING BRIGHTLY) Doesn't mean anything.. ALEX It means something to me. GABRIELLA (EASED) We're good together, aren't we. Alex lets out a breath. ALEX Oh, yeah... We're pretty good. He kisses her goodbye, unlocks the door. She goes out to her Honda Civic. Alex doesn't wait to see her drive off before he heads back to finish cleaning up the tasting room. 4 4 INT. TASTING ROOM - NIGHT Alex straightens the last chair and starts to extract air from the open bottles. He hears a quiet CLANK of METAL. Instantly alert, he reaches for his jacket and turns off the-light. 5 5 INT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT Behind the cash register Alex opens a drawer and takes out a revolver. ze thumbs the safety off. The NOISES RECUR, like someone trying to break in through the back door from the parking lot. Alex slings his jacket casually over the gun. 5. 6 6 EXT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT Alex throws open the back door; he's counting on the element of surprise. HIS POV His red Cadillac convertible is idling nose.to the chain locked across the parking lot. A MAN in his twenties, whose tropical shirt fairly glows under the security lights, is using a pair of bolt cutters on the chain. ALEX (ADVANCING) You think you're gonna steal my car, asshole? The younger man whirls around. YOUNG MAN You scared me, man. A middle-aged man, a REPO MAN, calls out lazily from behind the wheel. REPO MAN This is not your car, sir. This car belongs to the Star Leasing Company. Alex buries the gun in the rear of his waistband as though he's rubbing his stiff back and cranks his smile to a higher wattage than the security lights. REPO MAN I can collect either the money or the car. Given how much you owe, I figure it's the car. The younger man has almost hacked through the chain. ALEX Pop the. trunk. REPO MAN We inventory the property at the yard. He keeps his eye on the chain, ready to gun the engine as soon as the exit is clear. ALEX I just want to show you something. Worked by the combination of natural curiosity and Alex's charm; the repo man pops the trunk and gets out of the still-running car. (CONTINUED) 6. 6 6 CONTINUED: In his hand he has the locking "Club" Alex usually uses to secure his. steering wheel. He's not stupid. Amused, Alex takes a step back, palms up. YOUNG MAN What are you doing? The repo man ignores him and looks in the trunk. ALEX Do you drink? REPO MAN Not on the job. What is this, booze? ALEX Two cases of single malt whiskey aged in the barrel before he was born. REPO MAN The Caddy's overdue. ALEX So are you. Drink it with the kid. Teach him what smooth is. Enjoy yourselves. Isn't that worth a few days' breather... (A BEAT) My accountant's a fuck-up. So am I, maybe, for not firing him. The bolt cutters clip through. The chain falls. YOUNG MAN We're clear. 7 7 INT. CADILLAC - NIGHT Alex is driving fast, top down, Samba MUSIC loud on the STEREO. He keeps time on the wheel as the Miami skyline cruises by. EXT. CADILLAC - NIGHT Alex turns into the garage of an expensive condominium building before the gate has slid all the way open. The TIRES SQUEAL as he powers the car around the corner. (CONTINUED) 7. 8 8 CONTINUED: A DUCATI MOTORCYCLE hogs his space. Alex lays the car in tightly. He has to squeeze out the door. He bumps the Ducati. It starts to topple; he grabs it before it goes over. 9 9 INT. CONDO - NIGHT Alex lets himself in. The entry ALARM starts to BEEP. He turns it off and resets it. The light has been left on in the kitchen. 10 10 INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT JASON, a handsome, troubled 17-year-old with long, dark hair, is filing barbs off a pile of fishing hooks on the center island. He looks harder and wiser than his years. Tackle is strewn everywhere. Some spaghetti remains in the pot it was cooked in and Jason's knife is standing upright in it. Alex walks into the kitchen. He makes an effort to be pleasant, although he's irritated by the mess, by the motorcycle. ALEX It's late, Jason. JASON I'm going out tonight. Alex exhales. ALEX You can't'fish all night and work all day. JASON Working for you doesn't exactly tax my mind. ALEX No wonder you drop bottles. JASON Fire me. ALEX Do you do it on purpose? JASON Fishing bought me my bike. (CONTINUED) 8. 10 10 CONTINUED: ALEX I almost knocked it over trying to get out of the car. JASON (SARCASTIC) I wasn't sure you were coming home. SEVERS The TOASTER OVEN DINGS. Jason takes out a muffin, it in two with his fishing knife. ALEX Use a regular knife. JASON This has a better edge. Feel it (pointing it at Alex, BLADE FLAT) -- feel it. Their voices are rising. ALEX Pointed, it's a fucking weapon. Put it away. JASON Hell with you. Jason exits to the stairs. ALEX And keep your voice down. Your mother's asleep. STAIRS JASON If you got home on time once in a while, maybe she could skip the chemical help. Alex is also on the stairs. ALEX You have no idea, none, zip, what goes on in a marriage. JASON Yeah, well, I'm learning more than I want to. (CONTINUED)' 9. 10 10 CONTINUED: (2) LANDING UPSTAIRS SUZANNE (O .S=.. ) Now what are you arguing about? SUZANNE is a pretty young woman in her late thirties with a sense of humor and irony. She's chemically relaxed, but not stupefied. She pulls a robe around herself, modest in front of her son; and although her body's not spectacular, like Gabriella's, she has a trim. athletic build. JASON It's not an argument. ALEX I asked him to clean up downstairs. SUZANNE (SOOTHING ALEX) Maybe he hadn't finished- ALEX A modicum of cooperation, you know? JASON A modicum. What's that. Modicum my ass. He pushes past his mother toward his own room. Suzanne follows him down the hallway, leaving. Alex behind. SUZANNE I don't like that tone from: you. JASON Then go to bed. ALEX Hey! JASON (RIGHT BACK) What! SUZANNE It's too late for this. ALEX Jason has gone into his room. He slams the door. CHOOSES enters his bedroom. Suzanne, alone for a-moment, to enter Jason's room. 10. 11 11 INT. JASON'S ROOM SUZANNE He's my husband. JASON (SOFTLY) I know, Mom. SUZANNE -- I still love him. JASON Whatever. She walks out. 12 12 INT. BATHROOM - NIGHT Alex stands under water as hot as he can stand, parboiling himself. Eyes squeezed shut, he lets out a long breath. His life demands more energy than he has anymore. He soaps himself thoroughly. 13 13 INT. MASTER BEDROOM - NIGHT Suzanne hears the front DOOR SLAM. Jason's DUCATI STARTS UP and ACCELERATES away. Alex comes out of the bathroom in a towel. SUZANNE (FONDLY) Lie down, I'll give you a back rub. She stumbles slightly against the bed, catches a bed post for balance, flops back on the bed with a laugh. SUZANNE -- maybe I'd better lie down. He bends down to kiss her, then heads for the television. Suzanne props herself up on her elbows. He pops a cassette into the VCR: porno, she assumes. She does her best. SUZANNE I liked the twin nurses. There was kind of a story. Alex brings the remote control back to bed. ALEX You'll like this one better. (CONTINUED) 11. 13 13 CONTINUED: He hangs his towel on a doorknob, slides into bed, starts the tape, which begins with sweat-slick dancing girls at Carnival. To Suzanne's astonishment, it turns out to be a travelog. SUZANNE Rio? ALEX I've been so busy. We could sneak away for a week.. Would you like that? SUZANNE If we really go. Last time I packed, we went nowhere. ALEX (SLEEPILY) Last time was different. SUZANNE (watching the tape) The beaches -- I thought we had a beach. I read how the hotels keep spotters on the roof with scopes, to keep thieves away from the guests. They can look at every inch of your body through the scope. (with a low laugh) Do you mind that I like that? Alex? He has fallen asleep. Tenderly she draws the sheet to his shoulder and settles down to watch the rest of the tape. DISSOLVE TO: 14 EXT. BOAT - DAWN 14 On the flying bridge of an old fishing boat, Jason eases the throttle to idle speed. The engine quiets down. The SWELLS SLAP harder against the wooden sides. The boat dips and dances to the music of the water. Jason swings down the ladder. He sets up his linis to troll. The starry dome of the sky is starting to brighten around its rim. Jason leans on the transom and stares at the flat, silvery wedge of wake. He breathes out a word. JASON :. Bite... (CONTINUED) 12. 14 14 CONTINUED: Nothing happens. He doesn't move. Then the top of one of the rods shivers slightly, goes still. Jason delicately fingers the rod like a blind man reading Braille, to feel for vibration. A smile pulls at his mouth. He steps behind the rod. The fish hits. JASON (CALLING OUT) Henryl Fish ont The line screams out. Jason's ready. He sets the hook. JASON Time to go to work, man! C'mon. A tall, black drifter appears from-below, still yawning, scratching. HENRY, 33. He wears a red Panama hat that's weathered his head for some time. HENRY Who we got? JASON Let's find out. He hauls back on the rod, the line rises from the ocean, they both recognize the fish at the end. HENRY Fucking sharks. Miami's fished out of the good stuff. Damn. He spits over the side. Jason grins. JASON This one's got more to worry about than you do. He starts to reel in the fish. Henry moves to the wheel.- HENRY Just shoot 'Jaws' in the water. I want to know the sucker's good and dead 'fore he sets a fin in my boat. You got a barb on that hook? . JASON Oh, yeah. Jason braces for the fight. 13. 15 15 EXT. DOCK - MORNING Jason and Henry are cutting the shark with the speed and dexterity of professionals. HENRY The Gulf, man, that's the place. And what makes you think fifty-fifty is right? My boat. My gas. JASON My skill. (slicing off the fins) ... My fins. 16 16 EXT. FISH MARKET - LONG SHOT - MORNING Jason and Henry slap their catch onto the Fishmonger's slippery counter. The market's noisy, men shouting. We see the negotiation from a distance. 17 EXT. DOCK - DAY (MINUTES LATE) 17 Jason and Henry walk through the hubbub. HENRY You cool? JASON I'm cool. HENRY We cool. Jason guns his Ducati. 18 INT. WINE STORE - DAY 18 Alex comes out of his office. ALEX Rob, has Jason shown up? A man's French-accented VOICE answers him from the store. ROBERT (O.S.) Not yet. ALEX You have his paycheck there? ROBERT All ready. (CONTINUED) 14. 18 18 CONTINUED: Alex takes it, and rips it up. 19 19 INT. CHINESE RESTAURANT - DAY The Chinese CHEF in the busy, steamy kitchen is inspecting the shark fins Jason has brought him. Jason is anxious to finish business and go. CHEF You no like my company? Fine. Who cares. Bring me more fin, you retire. You no want to retire? Good. Don't charge starving Chinese so much for these things. JASON You ever caught a shark? CHEF (BIGGER) You ever cook one? JASON Lemme -- lemme show you something. Jason pulls up the sleeve of his denim jacket to display a fresh gash across his arm. JASON He was already gaffed onto the side of the boat, good as dead. Two hours dead! And I was still too close to the mouth. Revenge is the last instinct to go, did you know that? The chef shrugs and shows his thumb, missing a joint. CHEF -- Work's a dangerous thing. (smiling with lots of TEETH) Nice fin, Jason. He tosses the fins in a cauldron of boiling water, slaps the CASH REGISTER on the side. It RINGS. 20 20 EXT. RESTAURANT - DAY Jason jams on his helmet and starts his. motorcycle, guns it down the street. (CONTINUED) 15. 20 20 CONTINUED: MIAMI SKYLINE Jason weaves through traffic, expert enough to take chances that goose the adrenalin. 21 21 EXT. WINE SHOP - DAY Robert and Alex are loading cases of wine into the trunk of the Caddy when Jason skids into the parking lot. He takes off his helmet. ALEX Just get in the car. 22 22 INT. CADILLAC - DAY (TRAVELING) Jason has fallen asleep while Alex drives. Alex picks up Jason's hand. Jerking awake, Jason tries to pull away, but his reflexes are sleep-slowed. Alex sniffs Jason's fingers, wrinkles his nose, lets Jason have his hand back. ALEX You stink. JASON I washed. ALEX There's Wash IN Dries in the glove compartment. Jason opens the compartment, finds the packets, opens one, rubs his hands. ALEX ... I'm trying here, Jason -- I really am. When you didn't want to go to college, I took your side, I said fine -- I mean, I -didn't finish college, and I've done all right. I gave you a job', a steady check, which is more than anybody else has done. And what do I get back? Shit. I've tried to teach you the business -- the care, the finesse... Jason laughs dismissively. (CONTINUED) 16. 22 22 CONTINUED: ALEX Well, look at it this way, Jason, someday you'll have your boat and I'll have my vineyard, and the best part '11 be they're nowhere near each other. JASON (SATISFIED) I'll send you a Christmas card. ALEX Save the stamp. They turn into the driveway to an expensive development. 23 23 EXT. SECURITY BOOTH, CORAL GABLES - DAY The Cadillac rolls to a stop at the ate. A tough, but amicable-looking armed guard in his forties, MIKE, opens the window of the air-conditioned booth. His RADIO is tuned to the FOOTBALL GAME. ALEX Hi, mike -- what's the score? MIKE (CHECKING THE APPOINTMENT BOARD) Dolphins down by nine, minute forty to go. It's over. ALEX Don't underestimate Marino. Mike ticks off the appointment, raises the gate. MIKE I told you, they don't have it this year. With a wave of acknowledgment for Mike, Alex.. drives onto the grounds. ALEX (YELLING BACK) Judas! Grinning, Mike routinely writes down the license plate number. 17. 24 24 EXT. CADILLAC - DAY Alex cruises past a collection of oversized villas, and turns into the driveway of the gaudiest. He and Jason climb out of the car. Alex opens the trunk. He loads two wine cases into Jason's arms, takes the third himself. They haven't said a word to each other. 25 25 EXT. VILLA - DAY Alex rings the intercom with his elbow. Gabriella's VOICE CRACKLES in response. GABRIELLA (V.O.) on the intercom) Who is it? ALEX Wine delivery. The INTERCOM CLICKS off. They hear FOOTSTEPS approaching. The door opens. Jason's eyes focus. He's hooked. Gabriella is smiling at Alex. She has her arms full of clean burp cloths. GABRIELLA Oh, the boss himself! ALEX (with a modest chuckle) How are you? She glances politely toward Jason, not at all expecting what she sees. A circuit connects between them. ALEX Gabriella takes care of Baby Reese. (TO GABRIELLA) This is my stepson, Jason. GABRIELLA (VERY CORRECT) How do you do. JASON Hi. GABRIELLA Is the wine for the boat? Come through the house. 18. 26 26 INT./EXT. VILLA - DAY They follow her inside. Jason takes in the richness of the place, but is more focussed on Gabriella. They exit TO T he lawn which leads to a dock. 27 27 EXT. REESES' BOAT DAY A sleek, ocean-going yacht is tied up at the dock, the crew unobtrusively at work. FRANK REESE, a powerful, confidant man in his mid-sixties, is sitting with his INSURANCE AGENT at a table on deck where policies are spread out next to a jewelry box. Reese's expensive 35- year-old wife DINA has turned her chair to sun her legs while she plays with the BABY. DINA -- what's the point of having it, if I can't wear it, Frank? AGENT (DEFERENTIALLY) You can wear it anywhere you like, Mrs. Reese -- except out of the country. Gabriella leads Alex and Jason aboard. Frank likes Alex and is glad to see him. Alex can't help glancing at Dina's long legs.. She smiles. FRANK Alex, should we insure the wine while we're at it? His arms tired,'Alex is happy to set down the case. ALEX Aren't you covered on your home policy? GABRIELLA (TO JASON) I'll show you, come on. AGENT How much wine are we talking about? Jason follows Gabriella down below, the VOICES on the deck fading. DINA (O.S.) Why bother insuring it? Let's drink it instead. 19. 28 28 INT. BOAT - DAY It's quiet inside, not tasteful but impressive, like everything else of the Reeses. Jason takes a stab at conversation. JASON Big boat. Gabriella laughs and looks over her shoulder at him. They're both kids. GABRIELLA ugly, isn't it. He grins and relaxes, looks around. JASON The fittings are definitely -- yeah on the ugly side. But damn, she's solid. GABRIELLA Oh, a boat type. JASON (proud, defensive) I like.boats. Gabriella shows him the climatized, built-in wine closet next to the galley. He starts to rack the bottles while she watches. He talks to stop her from leaving. JASON So where you headed? GABRIELLA I'm not going, 'I can't go. JASON They don't want to take the baby. GABRIELLA I don't have a green card, I can't leave the country. Baby goes with an American nurse. I house-sit. It's fine. JASON You don't like them. Gabriella laughs. (CONTINUED) 20. 28 28 CONTINUED: GABRIELLA God. I'm obvious. I just don't like working for people, but that's life. He chafes under authority the same way she does. JASON Doesn't have to be. GABRIELLA Maybe not with a rich stepfather. He laughs. JASON Worst kind. GABRIELLA (CORRECTIVELY) No. (A BEAT) You don't appreciate what you have, Jason. It's very poor where I came from. JASON Where's that? GABRIELLA Venezuela. Do I look it? JASON I don't know, I never been there. GABRIELLA Well, I don't. My mother's Indian. The India kind of Indian. (LAUGHS) Imagine a house where the father asks 'What's for dinner' in Spanish, and the mother answers 'Curry' in Hindi. 'Que hay para cenar' she says, 'Murgee, masala, ghaal.' He says, 'No es importante.' No wonder I'm nuts. JASON You don't seem too nuts. She laughs. GABRIELLA You don't know mel (OOR1TINUED ) 21. 28 CONTINUED: .( 2) 28 They're suddenly both very aware that they're alone together. 29 29 EXT. BOAT, THE DECK - DAY The agent is putting a magnificent diamond necklace in a velvet pouch that he fastidiously cinches and ties. Alex looks away from it to take a bottle out of the remaining case on deck. AGENT -- so back to the safe it goes -- Dina lifts up the baby and smells its bottom. FRANK Dina, that's disgusting. DINA The alternative is using your fingers, Frank. which offends you more? Alex laughs. Frank pushes back his chair. FRANK Don't encourage her, Alex. Her mouth is big enough. Dina is hurt. FRANK (to the agent) I'll show you that painting in our stateroom. The agent follows him away. ALEX (kindly; to Dina) Do you want to see the label? She hides her hurt by not looking at him. DINA Just open the bottle, Alex. Pour us both a glass. I'm not allowed to drink alone. When she turns her head and looks at him, she's flirting. 22. 30 30 INT. BOAT - DAY Jason has almost finished storing the wine. Gabriella is sitting on a bar stool at the galley,. listening to him, snared by the quiet passion in his voice. JASON -- when you're skimming along the water, nothing between you and the bottom of the sea but a layer of wood, your thoughts... end. All that noise inside your head? Gabriella nods, understanding exactly. JASON . . . Stops. Dina's VOICE booms over the INTERCOM, startling both of them. The BABY is FUSSING. Gabriella makes a gesture of apology to Jason. DINA (V.O.) Gabriella? Are you down there? GABRIELLA Yes, Mrs. Reese. DINA (V.0.) The baby needs you. And bring a pacifier for Frank. GABRIELLA Right there. She slides off the stool. JASON You should come out with me sometime. She smiles without answering and goes topside. His eyes follow her. A Deckhand comes down the ladder with the remaining case of wine for him to stock. 31 EXT. BOAT - DAY 31 Gabriella. lifts the fussy baby from Dina, her hands sure and calming. She coos nonsense to his little ear as she- reaches for the diaper bag and slings it over her arm. GABRIELLA He.'s ready for his nap. (CONTINUED) 23. 31 31 CONTINUED: Frank and the agent return from another section of the boat. FRANK You doing up to the house, Gabriella? (off her nod) Want to take this with you? He sweeps the policies into a large manila envelope, drops the 'pouch in with them, ties the string, hands it to her. FRANK Put it on my desk. He looks at his wife with her glass, Alex with his glass, and doesn't like it. His voice hardens slightly. FRANK Are we all set, Alex? ALEX I'm going to check the storage room, see what else'll travel. I know I put some vintage Armagnac in there, maybe some Porto? He heads down the gangplank. FRANK He's a vendor, Dina. It's like drinking with the help. DINA (DISARMING HIM) Did you pick the wine, sweetie? It's lovely. Frank grins, pleased. His hand curves around her shoulder. He has forgotten about the other vendor present, the agent. AGENT (AWKWARDLY) So I'll messenger over the rider for your signature -- Frank laughs out loud, in a better mood: FRANK -- You still here? Dina laughs, too. 24. 32 32 INT. VILLA, UPSTAIRS - DAY Gabriella settles the baby on his side, the only Reese she likes. She starts to close the shutters. Lullaby MUSIC is playing on the baby's TAPE DECK. IN THE HALLWAY She closes the nursery door as softly as possible. A man's hands go around her throat. Her gasp dies stillborn. It's Alex, kissing her.ear, holding Dina's diamond necklace to her neck. ALEX (MURMURING) Did he ever come on to you? GABRIELLA (ANGRY) Don't sneak up on me that way! ALEX Look how beautiful you are. He's an idiot if he didn't. Now she sees the necklace. GABRIELLA What are you doing? She snatches the necklace away from him and fairly runs down the hall to Frank's study. IN THE STUDY She tries td stuff it in the pouch. Alex is right behind her. GABRIELLA You're going to get me fired and deported. ALEX Just put it on for a minute. Look at yourself. She slaps at his hands half-heartedly, but it's so tempting. ALEX See what you deserve. GABRIELLA (SUCCUMBING) We're both crazy. (CONTINUED) 25. 32 32 CONTINUED: Alex moves her hair away. She lets him hook the necklace around her neck. He reaches over to open the closet door, fitted out now as a file cabinet, but with the original closet mirror still in place. The safe is visible. Gabriella stares at her reflection, Alex behind her, watching her. The necklace changes her posture. She angles her chin slightly, twists back her hair. Diamonds suit her. GABRIELLA (TITILLATED) It's vulgar. ALEX into her ear) Not against your skin. He starts to pleat her T-shirt loose from her jeans. She doesn't resist. They watch each other

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How many times the word 'laughter' appears in the text?

Blood and Wine Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS BLOOD AND WINE Written by Nick Villiers SECOND DRAFT DECEMBER 12, 1994 FADE IN: A PAIR OF HANDS men's hands, nicely groomed, hold a small white terry towel spoiled by blood-red spots. The hands rinse the towel in a copper bar sink. The stains soften but stay. A tan jacket sleeve, spotted the same way, moves INTO FRAM. The hands dab the wet towel at the spots, with no more success, and throw it into the sink. It falls half in, still dripping the stains a drop at a time to the floor. ALL IN CLOSEUP The owner of the hands walks to a wine rack, opens a bottle of white wine, drizzles the wine on the jacket sleeve. The stains disappear. He hangs his jacket on a hook and walks from THE CELLAR and up the narrow stairs. His FOOTFALLS ECHO against the unadorned cement block walls. We see his shape, mid- forties, powerful, his shirt pulled out. He's carrying the open bottle by the neck. 2 INT. WINE STORE - NIGHT Still seen from behind, the man emerges from the cellar into a contrastingly elegant space with a wood-beamed. ceiling, vaguely European. He walks along a narrow aisle of wooden diamond bins. As the space widens his foot hits something in his path. He bends to find a shoe. He glances about nervously. There are shutters on the storefront windows. Shoe in hand, he tightens the shutters. We see his profile, a good-looking man. He walks toward a brighter room at the back of the store, the Tasting Room. Now he retrieves a pair of women's trousers from the floor, and as he straightens up we see his entire face, genial, venial, redeemed by his smile. ALEX GATES. He speaks nonchalantly toward the room. ALEX Twenty people tonight. I got a South Beach widow, a plastic surgeon -- they actually came together. (A BEAT) These people -- all they really want is something to brag about at dinner parties. He swigs from the bottle of white wine, grimaces, detours behind the counter, and spits the mouthful into the plastic lined wastebasket. He throws the bottle away. (CONTINUED) 2. 2 2 CONTINUED: There's a basket of baguettes on the counter. Alex breaks off an end and chews it to rid his mouth of the taste of the wine. Still chewing, he walks toward the tasting room. ALEX There I was, passing the wine, passing the bread, I suddenly felt like the priest at Masst Or maybe Mass started out as a wine tasting, and Jesus was a salesman. what do you think? He goes into THE TASTING ROOM It seems empty except for a large wooden table, folding chairs in disarray, open bottles clustered at one end of the table. A chalkboard on the wall has CHATEAU BEYCHEVELLE written across it at the top, vintages listed underneath. The woman's voice that replies is Gabriella's. GABRIELLA (0.S.) (with a throaty laugh) Maybe I should get dressed. Leaning against the corner is a woman wearing only her panties and a shirt. In her mid-twenties she has striking South American looks. GABRIELLA VASQUEZ. She's sipping red wine from a plastic glass. GABRIETM I don't want to spoil a religious experience. ALEX -- Ever heard of Georges Duboeuf? He throws away some of the glasses. ALEX Duboeuf has a nose and a palate -- like a gift from God. He can taste a single grape before the harvest... and describe the beaujolais it's going to produce. She laughs. GABRIELLA Oh, you have competition. (CONTINUED) 3. 2 2 CONTINUED: (2) ALEX (SLIGHTLY ANNOYED) You know how many bottles I have in this store? Open any one of 'em, I'll tell you the vintage and vintner, b lindfolded. He bends down to pick up the chunks of baguette strewn on the floor. He doesn't see her slip off her panties. She walks behind him, twirling them into a tight band. She whips them over his eyes. He laughs. GABRIELLA Okay. Show me. ALEX Victoria's Secret 95. She passes her glass under his nose. ALEX Gabriella, I picked these wines. GABRIELLA So what is it? ALEX All I can smell is your perfume. She laughs. GABRIELLA I'm not wearing any. ALEX I even bought it for you. She opens her shirt. She's not wearing a bra. She lowers her breast to the glass and then to his mouth. GABRIELLA Tell me now. He kisses her wet breast. ALEX (WITHOUT HESITATION) Beychevelle '83. Lot of body. Very aggressive. He pulls off the panty blindfold, kisses her on the mouth softly, then fully. (CONTINUED) 4. 2 2 CONTINUED: (3) GABRIELLA (LOW) -- I lo e y u, Alex. V O 3 3 INT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT (LATER) Alex is unlocking the door for Gabriella. Dressed, she looks younger. They're awkward with each other. GABRIELLA Don't think you have to say it because .1 say it, Alex. (SMILING BRIGHTLY) Doesn't mean anything.. ALEX It means something to me. GABRIELLA (EASED) We're good together, aren't we. Alex lets out a breath. ALEX Oh, yeah... We're pretty good. He kisses her goodbye, unlocks the door. She goes out to her Honda Civic. Alex doesn't wait to see her drive off before he heads back to finish cleaning up the tasting room. 4 4 INT. TASTING ROOM - NIGHT Alex straightens the last chair and starts to extract air from the open bottles. He hears a quiet CLANK of METAL. Instantly alert, he reaches for his jacket and turns off the-light. 5 5 INT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT Behind the cash register Alex opens a drawer and takes out a revolver. ze thumbs the safety off. The NOISES RECUR, like someone trying to break in through the back door from the parking lot. Alex slings his jacket casually over the gun. 5. 6 6 EXT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT Alex throws open the back door; he's counting on the element of surprise. HIS POV His red Cadillac convertible is idling nose.to the chain locked across the parking lot. A MAN in his twenties, whose tropical shirt fairly glows under the security lights, is using a pair of bolt cutters on the chain. ALEX (ADVANCING) You think you're gonna steal my car, asshole? The younger man whirls around. YOUNG MAN You scared me, man. A middle-aged man, a REPO MAN, calls out lazily from behind the wheel. REPO MAN This is not your car, sir. This car belongs to the Star Leasing Company. Alex buries the gun in the rear of his waistband as though he's rubbing his stiff back and cranks his smile to a higher wattage than the security lights. REPO MAN I can collect either the money or the car. Given how much you owe, I figure it's the car. The younger man has almost hacked through the chain. ALEX Pop the. trunk. REPO MAN We inventory the property at the yard. He keeps his eye on the chain, ready to gun the engine as soon as the exit is clear. ALEX I just want to show you something. Worked by the combination of natural curiosity and Alex's charm; the repo man pops the trunk and gets out of the still-running car. (CONTINUED) 6. 6 6 CONTINUED: In his hand he has the locking "Club" Alex usually uses to secure his. steering wheel. He's not stupid. Amused, Alex takes a step back, palms up. YOUNG MAN What are you doing? The repo man ignores him and looks in the trunk. ALEX Do you drink? REPO MAN Not on the job. What is this, booze? ALEX Two cases of single malt whiskey aged in the barrel before he was born. REPO MAN The Caddy's overdue. ALEX So are you. Drink it with the kid. Teach him what smooth is. Enjoy yourselves. Isn't that worth a few days' breather... (A BEAT) My accountant's a fuck-up. So am I, maybe, for not firing him. The bolt cutters clip through. The chain falls. YOUNG MAN We're clear. 7 7 INT. CADILLAC - NIGHT Alex is driving fast, top down, Samba MUSIC loud on the STEREO. He keeps time on the wheel as the Miami skyline cruises by. EXT. CADILLAC - NIGHT Alex turns into the garage of an expensive condominium building before the gate has slid all the way open. The TIRES SQUEAL as he powers the car around the corner. (CONTINUED) 7. 8 8 CONTINUED: A DUCATI MOTORCYCLE hogs his space. Alex lays the car in tightly. He has to squeeze out the door. He bumps the Ducati. It starts to topple; he grabs it before it goes over. 9 9 INT. CONDO - NIGHT Alex lets himself in. The entry ALARM starts to BEEP. He turns it off and resets it. The light has been left on in the kitchen. 10 10 INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT JASON, a handsome, troubled 17-year-old with long, dark hair, is filing barbs off a pile of fishing hooks on the center island. He looks harder and wiser than his years. Tackle is strewn everywhere. Some spaghetti remains in the pot it was cooked in and Jason's knife is standing upright in it. Alex walks into the kitchen. He makes an effort to be pleasant, although he's irritated by the mess, by the motorcycle. ALEX It's late, Jason. JASON I'm going out tonight. Alex exhales. ALEX You can't'fish all night and work all day. JASON Working for you doesn't exactly tax my mind. ALEX No wonder you drop bottles. JASON Fire me. ALEX Do you do it on purpose? JASON Fishing bought me my bike. (CONTINUED) 8. 10 10 CONTINUED: ALEX I almost knocked it over trying to get out of the car. JASON (SARCASTIC) I wasn't sure you were coming home. SEVERS The TOASTER OVEN DINGS. Jason takes out a muffin, it in two with his fishing knife. ALEX Use a regular knife. JASON This has a better edge. Feel it (pointing it at Alex, BLADE FLAT) -- feel it. Their voices are rising. ALEX Pointed, it's a fucking weapon. Put it away. JASON Hell with you. Jason exits to the stairs. ALEX And keep your voice down. Your mother's asleep. STAIRS JASON If you got home on time once in a while, maybe she could skip the chemical help. Alex is also on the stairs. ALEX You have no idea, none, zip, what goes on in a marriage. JASON Yeah, well, I'm learning more than I want to. (CONTINUED)' 9. 10 10 CONTINUED: (2) LANDING UPSTAIRS SUZANNE (O .S=.. ) Now what are you arguing about? SUZANNE is a pretty young woman in her late thirties with a sense of humor and irony. She's chemically relaxed, but not stupefied. She pulls a robe around herself, modest in front of her son; and although her body's not spectacular, like Gabriella's, she has a trim. athletic build. JASON It's not an argument. ALEX I asked him to clean up downstairs. SUZANNE (SOOTHING ALEX) Maybe he hadn't finished- ALEX A modicum of cooperation, you know? JASON A modicum. What's that. Modicum my ass. He pushes past his mother toward his own room. Suzanne follows him down the hallway, leaving. Alex behind. SUZANNE I don't like that tone from: you. JASON Then go to bed. ALEX Hey! JASON (RIGHT BACK) What! SUZANNE It's too late for this. ALEX Jason has gone into his room. He slams the door. CHOOSES enters his bedroom. Suzanne, alone for a-moment, to enter Jason's room. 10. 11 11 INT. JASON'S ROOM SUZANNE He's my husband. JASON (SOFTLY) I know, Mom. SUZANNE -- I still love him. JASON Whatever. She walks out. 12 12 INT. BATHROOM - NIGHT Alex stands under water as hot as he can stand, parboiling himself. Eyes squeezed shut, he lets out a long breath. His life demands more energy than he has anymore. He soaps himself thoroughly. 13 13 INT. MASTER BEDROOM - NIGHT Suzanne hears the front DOOR SLAM. Jason's DUCATI STARTS UP and ACCELERATES away. Alex comes out of the bathroom in a towel. SUZANNE (FONDLY) Lie down, I'll give you a back rub. She stumbles slightly against the bed, catches a bed post for balance, flops back on the bed with a laugh. SUZANNE -- maybe I'd better lie down. He bends down to kiss her, then heads for the television. Suzanne props herself up on her elbows. He pops a cassette into the VCR: porno, she assumes. She does her best. SUZANNE I liked the twin nurses. There was kind of a story. Alex brings the remote control back to bed. ALEX You'll like this one better. (CONTINUED) 11. 13 13 CONTINUED: He hangs his towel on a doorknob, slides into bed, starts the tape, which begins with sweat-slick dancing girls at Carnival. To Suzanne's astonishment, it turns out to be a travelog. SUZANNE Rio? ALEX I've been so busy. We could sneak away for a week.. Would you like that? SUZANNE If we really go. Last time I packed, we went nowhere. ALEX (SLEEPILY) Last time was different. SUZANNE (watching the tape) The beaches -- I thought we had a beach. I read how the hotels keep spotters on the roof with scopes, to keep thieves away from the guests. They can look at every inch of your body through the scope. (with a low laugh) Do you mind that I like that? Alex? He has fallen asleep. Tenderly she draws the sheet to his shoulder and settles down to watch the rest of the tape. DISSOLVE TO: 14 EXT. BOAT - DAWN 14 On the flying bridge of an old fishing boat, Jason eases the throttle to idle speed. The engine quiets down. The SWELLS SLAP harder against the wooden sides. The boat dips and dances to the music of the water. Jason swings down the ladder. He sets up his linis to troll. The starry dome of the sky is starting to brighten around its rim. Jason leans on the transom and stares at the flat, silvery wedge of wake. He breathes out a word. JASON :. Bite... (CONTINUED) 12. 14 14 CONTINUED: Nothing happens. He doesn't move. Then the top of one of the rods shivers slightly, goes still. Jason delicately fingers the rod like a blind man reading Braille, to feel for vibration. A smile pulls at his mouth. He steps behind the rod. The fish hits. JASON (CALLING OUT) Henryl Fish ont The line screams out. Jason's ready. He sets the hook. JASON Time to go to work, man! C'mon. A tall, black drifter appears from-below, still yawning, scratching. HENRY, 33. He wears a red Panama hat that's weathered his head for some time. HENRY Who we got? JASON Let's find out. He hauls back on the rod, the line rises from the ocean, they both recognize the fish at the end. HENRY Fucking sharks. Miami's fished out of the good stuff. Damn. He spits over the side. Jason grins. JASON This one's got more to worry about than you do. He starts to reel in the fish. Henry moves to the wheel.- HENRY Just shoot 'Jaws' in the water. I want to know the sucker's good and dead 'fore he sets a fin in my boat. You got a barb on that hook? . JASON Oh, yeah. Jason braces for the fight. 13. 15 15 EXT. DOCK - MORNING Jason and Henry are cutting the shark with the speed and dexterity of professionals. HENRY The Gulf, man, that's the place. And what makes you think fifty-fifty is right? My boat. My gas. JASON My skill. (slicing off the fins) ... My fins. 16 16 EXT. FISH MARKET - LONG SHOT - MORNING Jason and Henry slap their catch onto the Fishmonger's slippery counter. The market's noisy, men shouting. We see the negotiation from a distance. 17 EXT. DOCK - DAY (MINUTES LATE) 17 Jason and Henry walk through the hubbub. HENRY You cool? JASON I'm cool. HENRY We cool. Jason guns his Ducati. 18 INT. WINE STORE - DAY 18 Alex comes out of his office. ALEX Rob, has Jason shown up? A man's French-accented VOICE answers him from the store. ROBERT (O.S.) Not yet. ALEX You have his paycheck there? ROBERT All ready. (CONTINUED) 14. 18 18 CONTINUED: Alex takes it, and rips it up. 19 19 INT. CHINESE RESTAURANT - DAY The Chinese CHEF in the busy, steamy kitchen is inspecting the shark fins Jason has brought him. Jason is anxious to finish business and go. CHEF You no like my company? Fine. Who cares. Bring me more fin, you retire. You no want to retire? Good. Don't charge starving Chinese so much for these things. JASON You ever caught a shark? CHEF (BIGGER) You ever cook one? JASON Lemme -- lemme show you something. Jason pulls up the sleeve of his denim jacket to display a fresh gash across his arm. JASON He was already gaffed onto the side of the boat, good as dead. Two hours dead! And I was still too close to the mouth. Revenge is the last instinct to go, did you know that? The chef shrugs and shows his thumb, missing a joint. CHEF -- Work's a dangerous thing. (smiling with lots of TEETH) Nice fin, Jason. He tosses the fins in a cauldron of boiling water, slaps the CASH REGISTER on the side. It RINGS. 20 20 EXT. RESTAURANT - DAY Jason jams on his helmet and starts his. motorcycle, guns it down the street. (CONTINUED) 15. 20 20 CONTINUED: MIAMI SKYLINE Jason weaves through traffic, expert enough to take chances that goose the adrenalin. 21 21 EXT. WINE SHOP - DAY Robert and Alex are loading cases of wine into the trunk of the Caddy when Jason skids into the parking lot. He takes off his helmet. ALEX Just get in the car. 22 22 INT. CADILLAC - DAY (TRAVELING) Jason has fallen asleep while Alex drives. Alex picks up Jason's hand. Jerking awake, Jason tries to pull away, but his reflexes are sleep-slowed. Alex sniffs Jason's fingers, wrinkles his nose, lets Jason have his hand back. ALEX You stink. JASON I washed. ALEX There's Wash IN Dries in the glove compartment. Jason opens the compartment, finds the packets, opens one, rubs his hands. ALEX ... I'm trying here, Jason -- I really am. When you didn't want to go to college, I took your side, I said fine -- I mean, I -didn't finish college, and I've done all right. I gave you a job', a steady check, which is more than anybody else has done. And what do I get back? Shit. I've tried to teach you the business -- the care, the finesse... Jason laughs dismissively. (CONTINUED) 16. 22 22 CONTINUED: ALEX Well, look at it this way, Jason, someday you'll have your boat and I'll have my vineyard, and the best part '11 be they're nowhere near each other. JASON (SATISFIED) I'll send you a Christmas card. ALEX Save the stamp. They turn into the driveway to an expensive development. 23 23 EXT. SECURITY BOOTH, CORAL GABLES - DAY The Cadillac rolls to a stop at the ate. A tough, but amicable-looking armed guard in his forties, MIKE, opens the window of the air-conditioned booth. His RADIO is tuned to the FOOTBALL GAME. ALEX Hi, mike -- what's the score? MIKE (CHECKING THE APPOINTMENT BOARD) Dolphins down by nine, minute forty to go. It's over. ALEX Don't underestimate Marino. Mike ticks off the appointment, raises the gate. MIKE I told you, they don't have it this year. With a wave of acknowledgment for Mike, Alex.. drives onto the grounds. ALEX (YELLING BACK) Judas! Grinning, Mike routinely writes down the license plate number. 17. 24 24 EXT. CADILLAC - DAY Alex cruises past a collection of oversized villas, and turns into the driveway of the gaudiest. He and Jason climb out of the car. Alex opens the trunk. He loads two wine cases into Jason's arms, takes the third himself. They haven't said a word to each other. 25 25 EXT. VILLA - DAY Alex rings the intercom with his elbow. Gabriella's VOICE CRACKLES in response. GABRIELLA (V.O.) on the intercom) Who is it? ALEX Wine delivery. The INTERCOM CLICKS off. They hear FOOTSTEPS approaching. The door opens. Jason's eyes focus. He's hooked. Gabriella is smiling at Alex. She has her arms full of clean burp cloths. GABRIELLA Oh, the boss himself! ALEX (with a modest chuckle) How are you? She glances politely toward Jason, not at all expecting what she sees. A circuit connects between them. ALEX Gabriella takes care of Baby Reese. (TO GABRIELLA) This is my stepson, Jason. GABRIELLA (VERY CORRECT) How do you do. JASON Hi. GABRIELLA Is the wine for the boat? Come through the house. 18. 26 26 INT./EXT. VILLA - DAY They follow her inside. Jason takes in the richness of the place, but is more focussed on Gabriella. They exit TO T he lawn which leads to a dock. 27 27 EXT. REESES' BOAT DAY A sleek, ocean-going yacht is tied up at the dock, the crew unobtrusively at work. FRANK REESE, a powerful, confidant man in his mid-sixties, is sitting with his INSURANCE AGENT at a table on deck where policies are spread out next to a jewelry box. Reese's expensive 35- year-old wife DINA has turned her chair to sun her legs while she plays with the BABY. DINA -- what's the point of having it, if I can't wear it, Frank? AGENT (DEFERENTIALLY) You can wear it anywhere you like, Mrs. Reese -- except out of the country. Gabriella leads Alex and Jason aboard. Frank likes Alex and is glad to see him. Alex can't help glancing at Dina's long legs.. She smiles. FRANK Alex, should we insure the wine while we're at it? His arms tired,'Alex is happy to set down the case. ALEX Aren't you covered on your home policy? GABRIELLA (TO JASON) I'll show you, come on. AGENT How much wine are we talking about? Jason follows Gabriella down below, the VOICES on the deck fading. DINA (O.S.) Why bother insuring it? Let's drink it instead. 19. 28 28 INT. BOAT - DAY It's quiet inside, not tasteful but impressive, like everything else of the Reeses. Jason takes a stab at conversation. JASON Big boat. Gabriella laughs and looks over her shoulder at him. They're both kids. GABRIELLA ugly, isn't it. He grins and relaxes, looks around. JASON The fittings are definitely -- yeah on the ugly side. But damn, she's solid. GABRIELLA Oh, a boat type. JASON (proud, defensive) I like.boats. Gabriella shows him the climatized, built-in wine closet next to the galley. He starts to rack the bottles while she watches. He talks to stop her from leaving. JASON So where you headed? GABRIELLA I'm not going, 'I can't go. JASON They don't want to take the baby. GABRIELLA I don't have a green card, I can't leave the country. Baby goes with an American nurse. I house-sit. It's fine. JASON You don't like them. Gabriella laughs. (CONTINUED) 20. 28 28 CONTINUED: GABRIELLA God. I'm obvious. I just don't like working for people, but that's life. He chafes under authority the same way she does. JASON Doesn't have to be. GABRIELLA Maybe not with a rich stepfather. He laughs. JASON Worst kind. GABRIELLA (CORRECTIVELY) No. (A BEAT) You don't appreciate what you have, Jason. It's very poor where I came from. JASON Where's that? GABRIELLA Venezuela. Do I look it? JASON I don't know, I never been there. GABRIELLA Well, I don't. My mother's Indian. The India kind of Indian. (LAUGHS) Imagine a house where the father asks 'What's for dinner' in Spanish, and the mother answers 'Curry' in Hindi. 'Que hay para cenar' she says, 'Murgee, masala, ghaal.' He says, 'No es importante.' No wonder I'm nuts. JASON You don't seem too nuts. She laughs. GABRIELLA You don't know mel (OOR1TINUED ) 21. 28 CONTINUED: .( 2) 28 They're suddenly both very aware that they're alone together. 29 29 EXT. BOAT, THE DECK - DAY The agent is putting a magnificent diamond necklace in a velvet pouch that he fastidiously cinches and ties. Alex looks away from it to take a bottle out of the remaining case on deck. AGENT -- so back to the safe it goes -- Dina lifts up the baby and smells its bottom. FRANK Dina, that's disgusting. DINA The alternative is using your fingers, Frank. which offends you more? Alex laughs. Frank pushes back his chair. FRANK Don't encourage her, Alex. Her mouth is big enough. Dina is hurt. FRANK (to the agent) I'll show you that painting in our stateroom. The agent follows him away. ALEX (kindly; to Dina) Do you want to see the label? She hides her hurt by not looking at him. DINA Just open the bottle, Alex. Pour us both a glass. I'm not allowed to drink alone. When she turns her head and looks at him, she's flirting. 22. 30 30 INT. BOAT - DAY Jason has almost finished storing the wine. Gabriella is sitting on a bar stool at the galley,. listening to him, snared by the quiet passion in his voice. JASON -- when you're skimming along the water, nothing between you and the bottom of the sea but a layer of wood, your thoughts... end. All that noise inside your head? Gabriella nods, understanding exactly. JASON . . . Stops. Dina's VOICE booms over the INTERCOM, startling both of them. The BABY is FUSSING. Gabriella makes a gesture of apology to Jason. DINA (V.O.) Gabriella? Are you down there? GABRIELLA Yes, Mrs. Reese. DINA (V.0.) The baby needs you. And bring a pacifier for Frank. GABRIELLA Right there. She slides off the stool. JASON You should come out with me sometime. She smiles without answering and goes topside. His eyes follow her. A Deckhand comes down the ladder with the remaining case of wine for him to stock. 31 EXT. BOAT - DAY 31 Gabriella. lifts the fussy baby from Dina, her hands sure and calming. She coos nonsense to his little ear as she- reaches for the diaper bag and slings it over her arm. GABRIELLA He.'s ready for his nap. (CONTINUED) 23. 31 31 CONTINUED: Frank and the agent return from another section of the boat. FRANK You doing up to the house, Gabriella? (off her nod) Want to take this with you? He sweeps the policies into a large manila envelope, drops the 'pouch in with them, ties the string, hands it to her. FRANK Put it on my desk. He looks at his wife with her glass, Alex with his glass, and doesn't like it. His voice hardens slightly. FRANK Are we all set, Alex? ALEX I'm going to check the storage room, see what else'll travel. I know I put some vintage Armagnac in there, maybe some Porto? He heads down the gangplank. FRANK He's a vendor, Dina. It's like drinking with the help. DINA (DISARMING HIM) Did you pick the wine, sweetie? It's lovely. Frank grins, pleased. His hand curves around her shoulder. He has forgotten about the other vendor present, the agent. AGENT (AWKWARDLY) So I'll messenger over the rider for your signature -- Frank laughs out loud, in a better mood: FRANK -- You still here? Dina laughs, too. 24. 32 32 INT. VILLA, UPSTAIRS - DAY Gabriella settles the baby on his side, the only Reese she likes. She starts to close the shutters. Lullaby MUSIC is playing on the baby's TAPE DECK. IN THE HALLWAY She closes the nursery door as softly as possible. A man's hands go around her throat. Her gasp dies stillborn. It's Alex, kissing her.ear, holding Dina's diamond necklace to her neck. ALEX (MURMURING) Did he ever come on to you? GABRIELLA (ANGRY) Don't sneak up on me that way! ALEX Look how beautiful you are. He's an idiot if he didn't. Now she sees the necklace. GABRIELLA What are you doing? She snatches the necklace away from him and fairly runs down the hall to Frank's study. IN THE STUDY She tries td stuff it in the pouch. Alex is right behind her. GABRIELLA You're going to get me fired and deported. ALEX Just put it on for a minute. Look at yourself. She slaps at his hands half-heartedly, but it's so tempting. ALEX See what you deserve. GABRIELLA (SUCCUMBING) We're both crazy. (CONTINUED) 25. 32 32 CONTINUED: Alex moves her hair away. She lets him hook the necklace around her neck. He reaches over to open the closet door, fitted out now as a file cabinet, but with the original closet mirror still in place. The safe is visible. Gabriella stares at her reflection, Alex behind her, watching her. The necklace changes her posture. She angles her chin slightly, twists back her hair. Diamonds suit her. GABRIELLA (TITILLATED) It's vulgar. ALEX into her ear) Not against your skin. He starts to pleat her T-shirt loose from her jeans. She doesn't resist. They watch each other

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How many times the word 'wheel' appears in the text?

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Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS BLOOD AND WINE Written by Nick Villiers SECOND DRAFT DECEMBER 12, 1994 FADE IN: A PAIR OF HANDS men's hands, nicely groomed, hold a small white terry towel spoiled by blood-red spots. The hands rinse the towel in a copper bar sink. The stains soften but stay. A tan jacket sleeve, spotted the same way, moves INTO FRAM. The hands dab the wet towel at the spots, with no more success, and throw it into the sink. It falls half in, still dripping the stains a drop at a time to the floor. ALL IN CLOSEUP The owner of the hands walks to a wine rack, opens a bottle of white wine, drizzles the wine on the jacket sleeve. The stains disappear. He hangs his jacket on a hook and walks from THE CELLAR and up the narrow stairs. His FOOTFALLS ECHO against the unadorned cement block walls. We see his shape, mid- forties, powerful, his shirt pulled out. He's carrying the open bottle by the neck. 2 INT. WINE STORE - NIGHT Still seen from behind, the man emerges from the cellar into a contrastingly elegant space with a wood-beamed. ceiling, vaguely European. He walks along a narrow aisle of wooden diamond bins. As the space widens his foot hits something in his path. He bends to find a shoe. He glances about nervously. There are shutters on the storefront windows. Shoe in hand, he tightens the shutters. We see his profile, a good-looking man. He walks toward a brighter room at the back of the store, the Tasting Room. Now he retrieves a pair of women's trousers from the floor, and as he straightens up we see his entire face, genial, venial, redeemed by his smile. ALEX GATES. He speaks nonchalantly toward the room. ALEX Twenty people tonight. I got a South Beach widow, a plastic surgeon -- they actually came together. (A BEAT) These people -- all they really want is something to brag about at dinner parties. He swigs from the bottle of white wine, grimaces, detours behind the counter, and spits the mouthful into the plastic lined wastebasket. He throws the bottle away. (CONTINUED) 2. 2 2 CONTINUED: There's a basket of baguettes on the counter. Alex breaks off an end and chews it to rid his mouth of the taste of the wine. Still chewing, he walks toward the tasting room. ALEX There I was, passing the wine, passing the bread, I suddenly felt like the priest at Masst Or maybe Mass started out as a wine tasting, and Jesus was a salesman. what do you think? He goes into THE TASTING ROOM It seems empty except for a large wooden table, folding chairs in disarray, open bottles clustered at one end of the table. A chalkboard on the wall has CHATEAU BEYCHEVELLE written across it at the top, vintages listed underneath. The woman's voice that replies is Gabriella's. GABRIELLA (0.S.) (with a throaty laugh) Maybe I should get dressed. Leaning against the corner is a woman wearing only her panties and a shirt. In her mid-twenties she has striking South American looks. GABRIELLA VASQUEZ. She's sipping red wine from a plastic glass. GABRIETM I don't want to spoil a religious experience. ALEX -- Ever heard of Georges Duboeuf? He throws away some of the glasses. ALEX Duboeuf has a nose and a palate -- like a gift from God. He can taste a single grape before the harvest... and describe the beaujolais it's going to produce. She laughs. GABRIELLA Oh, you have competition. (CONTINUED) 3. 2 2 CONTINUED: (2) ALEX (SLIGHTLY ANNOYED) You know how many bottles I have in this store? Open any one of 'em, I'll tell you the vintage and vintner, b lindfolded. He bends down to pick up the chunks of baguette strewn on the floor. He doesn't see her slip off her panties. She walks behind him, twirling them into a tight band. She whips them over his eyes. He laughs. GABRIELLA Okay. Show me. ALEX Victoria's Secret 95. She passes her glass under his nose. ALEX Gabriella, I picked these wines. GABRIELLA So what is it? ALEX All I can smell is your perfume. She laughs. GABRIELLA I'm not wearing any. ALEX I even bought it for you. She opens her shirt. She's not wearing a bra. She lowers her breast to the glass and then to his mouth. GABRIELLA Tell me now. He kisses her wet breast. ALEX (WITHOUT HESITATION) Beychevelle '83. Lot of body. Very aggressive. He pulls off the panty blindfold, kisses her on the mouth softly, then fully. (CONTINUED) 4. 2 2 CONTINUED: (3) GABRIELLA (LOW) -- I lo e y u, Alex. V O 3 3 INT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT (LATER) Alex is unlocking the door for Gabriella. Dressed, she looks younger. They're awkward with each other. GABRIELLA Don't think you have to say it because .1 say it, Alex. (SMILING BRIGHTLY) Doesn't mean anything.. ALEX It means something to me. GABRIELLA (EASED) We're good together, aren't we. Alex lets out a breath. ALEX Oh, yeah... We're pretty good. He kisses her goodbye, unlocks the door. She goes out to her Honda Civic. Alex doesn't wait to see her drive off before he heads back to finish cleaning up the tasting room. 4 4 INT. TASTING ROOM - NIGHT Alex straightens the last chair and starts to extract air from the open bottles. He hears a quiet CLANK of METAL. Instantly alert, he reaches for his jacket and turns off the-light. 5 5 INT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT Behind the cash register Alex opens a drawer and takes out a revolver. ze thumbs the safety off. The NOISES RECUR, like someone trying to break in through the back door from the parking lot. Alex slings his jacket casually over the gun. 5. 6 6 EXT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT Alex throws open the back door; he's counting on the element of surprise. HIS POV His red Cadillac convertible is idling nose.to the chain locked across the parking lot. A MAN in his twenties, whose tropical shirt fairly glows under the security lights, is using a pair of bolt cutters on the chain. ALEX (ADVANCING) You think you're gonna steal my car, asshole? The younger man whirls around. YOUNG MAN You scared me, man. A middle-aged man, a REPO MAN, calls out lazily from behind the wheel. REPO MAN This is not your car, sir. This car belongs to the Star Leasing Company. Alex buries the gun in the rear of his waistband as though he's rubbing his stiff back and cranks his smile to a higher wattage than the security lights. REPO MAN I can collect either the money or the car. Given how much you owe, I figure it's the car. The younger man has almost hacked through the chain. ALEX Pop the. trunk. REPO MAN We inventory the property at the yard. He keeps his eye on the chain, ready to gun the engine as soon as the exit is clear. ALEX I just want to show you something. Worked by the combination of natural curiosity and Alex's charm; the repo man pops the trunk and gets out of the still-running car. (CONTINUED) 6. 6 6 CONTINUED: In his hand he has the locking "Club" Alex usually uses to secure his. steering wheel. He's not stupid. Amused, Alex takes a step back, palms up. YOUNG MAN What are you doing? The repo man ignores him and looks in the trunk. ALEX Do you drink? REPO MAN Not on the job. What is this, booze? ALEX Two cases of single malt whiskey aged in the barrel before he was born. REPO MAN The Caddy's overdue. ALEX So are you. Drink it with the kid. Teach him what smooth is. Enjoy yourselves. Isn't that worth a few days' breather... (A BEAT) My accountant's a fuck-up. So am I, maybe, for not firing him. The bolt cutters clip through. The chain falls. YOUNG MAN We're clear. 7 7 INT. CADILLAC - NIGHT Alex is driving fast, top down, Samba MUSIC loud on the STEREO. He keeps time on the wheel as the Miami skyline cruises by. EXT. CADILLAC - NIGHT Alex turns into the garage of an expensive condominium building before the gate has slid all the way open. The TIRES SQUEAL as he powers the car around the corner. (CONTINUED) 7. 8 8 CONTINUED: A DUCATI MOTORCYCLE hogs his space. Alex lays the car in tightly. He has to squeeze out the door. He bumps the Ducati. It starts to topple; he grabs it before it goes over. 9 9 INT. CONDO - NIGHT Alex lets himself in. The entry ALARM starts to BEEP. He turns it off and resets it. The light has been left on in the kitchen. 10 10 INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT JASON, a handsome, troubled 17-year-old with long, dark hair, is filing barbs off a pile of fishing hooks on the center island. He looks harder and wiser than his years. Tackle is strewn everywhere. Some spaghetti remains in the pot it was cooked in and Jason's knife is standing upright in it. Alex walks into the kitchen. He makes an effort to be pleasant, although he's irritated by the mess, by the motorcycle. ALEX It's late, Jason. JASON I'm going out tonight. Alex exhales. ALEX You can't'fish all night and work all day. JASON Working for you doesn't exactly tax my mind. ALEX No wonder you drop bottles. JASON Fire me. ALEX Do you do it on purpose? JASON Fishing bought me my bike. (CONTINUED) 8. 10 10 CONTINUED: ALEX I almost knocked it over trying to get out of the car. JASON (SARCASTIC) I wasn't sure you were coming home. SEVERS The TOASTER OVEN DINGS. Jason takes out a muffin, it in two with his fishing knife. ALEX Use a regular knife. JASON This has a better edge. Feel it (pointing it at Alex, BLADE FLAT) -- feel it. Their voices are rising. ALEX Pointed, it's a fucking weapon. Put it away. JASON Hell with you. Jason exits to the stairs. ALEX And keep your voice down. Your mother's asleep. STAIRS JASON If you got home on time once in a while, maybe she could skip the chemical help. Alex is also on the stairs. ALEX You have no idea, none, zip, what goes on in a marriage. JASON Yeah, well, I'm learning more than I want to. (CONTINUED)' 9. 10 10 CONTINUED: (2) LANDING UPSTAIRS SUZANNE (O .S=.. ) Now what are you arguing about? SUZANNE is a pretty young woman in her late thirties with a sense of humor and irony. She's chemically relaxed, but not stupefied. She pulls a robe around herself, modest in front of her son; and although her body's not spectacular, like Gabriella's, she has a trim. athletic build. JASON It's not an argument. ALEX I asked him to clean up downstairs. SUZANNE (SOOTHING ALEX) Maybe he hadn't finished- ALEX A modicum of cooperation, you know? JASON A modicum. What's that. Modicum my ass. He pushes past his mother toward his own room. Suzanne follows him down the hallway, leaving. Alex behind. SUZANNE I don't like that tone from: you. JASON Then go to bed. ALEX Hey! JASON (RIGHT BACK) What! SUZANNE It's too late for this. ALEX Jason has gone into his room. He slams the door. CHOOSES enters his bedroom. Suzanne, alone for a-moment, to enter Jason's room. 10. 11 11 INT. JASON'S ROOM SUZANNE He's my husband. JASON (SOFTLY) I know, Mom. SUZANNE -- I still love him. JASON Whatever. She walks out. 12 12 INT. BATHROOM - NIGHT Alex stands under water as hot as he can stand, parboiling himself. Eyes squeezed shut, he lets out a long breath. His life demands more energy than he has anymore. He soaps himself thoroughly. 13 13 INT. MASTER BEDROOM - NIGHT Suzanne hears the front DOOR SLAM. Jason's DUCATI STARTS UP and ACCELERATES away. Alex comes out of the bathroom in a towel. SUZANNE (FONDLY) Lie down, I'll give you a back rub. She stumbles slightly against the bed, catches a bed post for balance, flops back on the bed with a laugh. SUZANNE -- maybe I'd better lie down. He bends down to kiss her, then heads for the television. Suzanne props herself up on her elbows. He pops a cassette into the VCR: porno, she assumes. She does her best. SUZANNE I liked the twin nurses. There was kind of a story. Alex brings the remote control back to bed. ALEX You'll like this one better. (CONTINUED) 11. 13 13 CONTINUED: He hangs his towel on a doorknob, slides into bed, starts the tape, which begins with sweat-slick dancing girls at Carnival. To Suzanne's astonishment, it turns out to be a travelog. SUZANNE Rio? ALEX I've been so busy. We could sneak away for a week.. Would you like that? SUZANNE If we really go. Last time I packed, we went nowhere. ALEX (SLEEPILY) Last time was different. SUZANNE (watching the tape) The beaches -- I thought we had a beach. I read how the hotels keep spotters on the roof with scopes, to keep thieves away from the guests. They can look at every inch of your body through the scope. (with a low laugh) Do you mind that I like that? Alex? He has fallen asleep. Tenderly she draws the sheet to his shoulder and settles down to watch the rest of the tape. DISSOLVE TO: 14 EXT. BOAT - DAWN 14 On the flying bridge of an old fishing boat, Jason eases the throttle to idle speed. The engine quiets down. The SWELLS SLAP harder against the wooden sides. The boat dips and dances to the music of the water. Jason swings down the ladder. He sets up his linis to troll. The starry dome of the sky is starting to brighten around its rim. Jason leans on the transom and stares at the flat, silvery wedge of wake. He breathes out a word. JASON :. Bite... (CONTINUED) 12. 14 14 CONTINUED: Nothing happens. He doesn't move. Then the top of one of the rods shivers slightly, goes still. Jason delicately fingers the rod like a blind man reading Braille, to feel for vibration. A smile pulls at his mouth. He steps behind the rod. The fish hits. JASON (CALLING OUT) Henryl Fish ont The line screams out. Jason's ready. He sets the hook. JASON Time to go to work, man! C'mon. A tall, black drifter appears from-below, still yawning, scratching. HENRY, 33. He wears a red Panama hat that's weathered his head for some time. HENRY Who we got? JASON Let's find out. He hauls back on the rod, the line rises from the ocean, they both recognize the fish at the end. HENRY Fucking sharks. Miami's fished out of the good stuff. Damn. He spits over the side. Jason grins. JASON This one's got more to worry about than you do. He starts to reel in the fish. Henry moves to the wheel.- HENRY Just shoot 'Jaws' in the water. I want to know the sucker's good and dead 'fore he sets a fin in my boat. You got a barb on that hook? . JASON Oh, yeah. Jason braces for the fight. 13. 15 15 EXT. DOCK - MORNING Jason and Henry are cutting the shark with the speed and dexterity of professionals. HENRY The Gulf, man, that's the place. And what makes you think fifty-fifty is right? My boat. My gas. JASON My skill. (slicing off the fins) ... My fins. 16 16 EXT. FISH MARKET - LONG SHOT - MORNING Jason and Henry slap their catch onto the Fishmonger's slippery counter. The market's noisy, men shouting. We see the negotiation from a distance. 17 EXT. DOCK - DAY (MINUTES LATE) 17 Jason and Henry walk through the hubbub. HENRY You cool? JASON I'm cool. HENRY We cool. Jason guns his Ducati. 18 INT. WINE STORE - DAY 18 Alex comes out of his office. ALEX Rob, has Jason shown up? A man's French-accented VOICE answers him from the store. ROBERT (O.S.) Not yet. ALEX You have his paycheck there? ROBERT All ready. (CONTINUED) 14. 18 18 CONTINUED: Alex takes it, and rips it up. 19 19 INT. CHINESE RESTAURANT - DAY The Chinese CHEF in the busy, steamy kitchen is inspecting the shark fins Jason has brought him. Jason is anxious to finish business and go. CHEF You no like my company? Fine. Who cares. Bring me more fin, you retire. You no want to retire? Good. Don't charge starving Chinese so much for these things. JASON You ever caught a shark? CHEF (BIGGER) You ever cook one? JASON Lemme -- lemme show you something. Jason pulls up the sleeve of his denim jacket to display a fresh gash across his arm. JASON He was already gaffed onto the side of the boat, good as dead. Two hours dead! And I was still too close to the mouth. Revenge is the last instinct to go, did you know that? The chef shrugs and shows his thumb, missing a joint. CHEF -- Work's a dangerous thing. (smiling with lots of TEETH) Nice fin, Jason. He tosses the fins in a cauldron of boiling water, slaps the CASH REGISTER on the side. It RINGS. 20 20 EXT. RESTAURANT - DAY Jason jams on his helmet and starts his. motorcycle, guns it down the street. (CONTINUED) 15. 20 20 CONTINUED: MIAMI SKYLINE Jason weaves through traffic, expert enough to take chances that goose the adrenalin. 21 21 EXT. WINE SHOP - DAY Robert and Alex are loading cases of wine into the trunk of the Caddy when Jason skids into the parking lot. He takes off his helmet. ALEX Just get in the car. 22 22 INT. CADILLAC - DAY (TRAVELING) Jason has fallen asleep while Alex drives. Alex picks up Jason's hand. Jerking awake, Jason tries to pull away, but his reflexes are sleep-slowed. Alex sniffs Jason's fingers, wrinkles his nose, lets Jason have his hand back. ALEX You stink. JASON I washed. ALEX There's Wash IN Dries in the glove compartment. Jason opens the compartment, finds the packets, opens one, rubs his hands. ALEX ... I'm trying here, Jason -- I really am. When you didn't want to go to college, I took your side, I said fine -- I mean, I -didn't finish college, and I've done all right. I gave you a job', a steady check, which is more than anybody else has done. And what do I get back? Shit. I've tried to teach you the business -- the care, the finesse... Jason laughs dismissively. (CONTINUED) 16. 22 22 CONTINUED: ALEX Well, look at it this way, Jason, someday you'll have your boat and I'll have my vineyard, and the best part '11 be they're nowhere near each other. JASON (SATISFIED) I'll send you a Christmas card. ALEX Save the stamp. They turn into the driveway to an expensive development. 23 23 EXT. SECURITY BOOTH, CORAL GABLES - DAY The Cadillac rolls to a stop at the ate. A tough, but amicable-looking armed guard in his forties, MIKE, opens the window of the air-conditioned booth. His RADIO is tuned to the FOOTBALL GAME. ALEX Hi, mike -- what's the score? MIKE (CHECKING THE APPOINTMENT BOARD) Dolphins down by nine, minute forty to go. It's over. ALEX Don't underestimate Marino. Mike ticks off the appointment, raises the gate. MIKE I told you, they don't have it this year. With a wave of acknowledgment for Mike, Alex.. drives onto the grounds. ALEX (YELLING BACK) Judas! Grinning, Mike routinely writes down the license plate number. 17. 24 24 EXT. CADILLAC - DAY Alex cruises past a collection of oversized villas, and turns into the driveway of the gaudiest. He and Jason climb out of the car. Alex opens the trunk. He loads two wine cases into Jason's arms, takes the third himself. They haven't said a word to each other. 25 25 EXT. VILLA - DAY Alex rings the intercom with his elbow. Gabriella's VOICE CRACKLES in response. GABRIELLA (V.O.) on the intercom) Who is it? ALEX Wine delivery. The INTERCOM CLICKS off. They hear FOOTSTEPS approaching. The door opens. Jason's eyes focus. He's hooked. Gabriella is smiling at Alex. She has her arms full of clean burp cloths. GABRIELLA Oh, the boss himself! ALEX (with a modest chuckle) How are you? She glances politely toward Jason, not at all expecting what she sees. A circuit connects between them. ALEX Gabriella takes care of Baby Reese. (TO GABRIELLA) This is my stepson, Jason. GABRIELLA (VERY CORRECT) How do you do. JASON Hi. GABRIELLA Is the wine for the boat? Come through the house. 18. 26 26 INT./EXT. VILLA - DAY They follow her inside. Jason takes in the richness of the place, but is more focussed on Gabriella. They exit TO T he lawn which leads to a dock. 27 27 EXT. REESES' BOAT DAY A sleek, ocean-going yacht is tied up at the dock, the crew unobtrusively at work. FRANK REESE, a powerful, confidant man in his mid-sixties, is sitting with his INSURANCE AGENT at a table on deck where policies are spread out next to a jewelry box. Reese's expensive 35- year-old wife DINA has turned her chair to sun her legs while she plays with the BABY. DINA -- what's the point of having it, if I can't wear it, Frank? AGENT (DEFERENTIALLY) You can wear it anywhere you like, Mrs. Reese -- except out of the country. Gabriella leads Alex and Jason aboard. Frank likes Alex and is glad to see him. Alex can't help glancing at Dina's long legs.. She smiles. FRANK Alex, should we insure the wine while we're at it? His arms tired,'Alex is happy to set down the case. ALEX Aren't you covered on your home policy? GABRIELLA (TO JASON) I'll show you, come on. AGENT How much wine are we talking about? Jason follows Gabriella down below, the VOICES on the deck fading. DINA (O.S.) Why bother insuring it? Let's drink it instead. 19. 28 28 INT. BOAT - DAY It's quiet inside, not tasteful but impressive, like everything else of the Reeses. Jason takes a stab at conversation. JASON Big boat. Gabriella laughs and looks over her shoulder at him. They're both kids. GABRIELLA ugly, isn't it. He grins and relaxes, looks around. JASON The fittings are definitely -- yeah on the ugly side. But damn, she's solid. GABRIELLA Oh, a boat type. JASON (proud, defensive) I like.boats. Gabriella shows him the climatized, built-in wine closet next to the galley. He starts to rack the bottles while she watches. He talks to stop her from leaving. JASON So where you headed? GABRIELLA I'm not going, 'I can't go. JASON They don't want to take the baby. GABRIELLA I don't have a green card, I can't leave the country. Baby goes with an American nurse. I house-sit. It's fine. JASON You don't like them. Gabriella laughs. (CONTINUED) 20. 28 28 CONTINUED: GABRIELLA God. I'm obvious. I just don't like working for people, but that's life. He chafes under authority the same way she does. JASON Doesn't have to be. GABRIELLA Maybe not with a rich stepfather. He laughs. JASON Worst kind. GABRIELLA (CORRECTIVELY) No. (A BEAT) You don't appreciate what you have, Jason. It's very poor where I came from. JASON Where's that? GABRIELLA Venezuela. Do I look it? JASON I don't know, I never been there. GABRIELLA Well, I don't. My mother's Indian. The India kind of Indian. (LAUGHS) Imagine a house where the father asks 'What's for dinner' in Spanish, and the mother answers 'Curry' in Hindi. 'Que hay para cenar' she says, 'Murgee, masala, ghaal.' He says, 'No es importante.' No wonder I'm nuts. JASON You don't seem too nuts. She laughs. GABRIELLA You don't know mel (OOR1TINUED ) 21. 28 CONTINUED: .( 2) 28 They're suddenly both very aware that they're alone together. 29 29 EXT. BOAT, THE DECK - DAY The agent is putting a magnificent diamond necklace in a velvet pouch that he fastidiously cinches and ties. Alex looks away from it to take a bottle out of the remaining case on deck. AGENT -- so back to the safe it goes -- Dina lifts up the baby and smells its bottom. FRANK Dina, that's disgusting. DINA The alternative is using your fingers, Frank. which offends you more? Alex laughs. Frank pushes back his chair. FRANK Don't encourage her, Alex. Her mouth is big enough. Dina is hurt. FRANK (to the agent) I'll show you that painting in our stateroom. The agent follows him away. ALEX (kindly; to Dina) Do you want to see the label? She hides her hurt by not looking at him. DINA Just open the bottle, Alex. Pour us both a glass. I'm not allowed to drink alone. When she turns her head and looks at him, she's flirting. 22. 30 30 INT. BOAT - DAY Jason has almost finished storing the wine. Gabriella is sitting on a bar stool at the galley,. listening to him, snared by the quiet passion in his voice. JASON -- when you're skimming along the water, nothing between you and the bottom of the sea but a layer of wood, your thoughts... end. All that noise inside your head? Gabriella nods, understanding exactly. JASON . . . Stops. Dina's VOICE booms over the INTERCOM, startling both of them. The BABY is FUSSING. Gabriella makes a gesture of apology to Jason. DINA (V.O.) Gabriella? Are you down there? GABRIELLA Yes, Mrs. Reese. DINA (V.0.) The baby needs you. And bring a pacifier for Frank. GABRIELLA Right there. She slides off the stool. JASON You should come out with me sometime. She smiles without answering and goes topside. His eyes follow her. A Deckhand comes down the ladder with the remaining case of wine for him to stock. 31 EXT. BOAT - DAY 31 Gabriella. lifts the fussy baby from Dina, her hands sure and calming. She coos nonsense to his little ear as she- reaches for the diaper bag and slings it over her arm. GABRIELLA He.'s ready for his nap. (CONTINUED) 23. 31 31 CONTINUED: Frank and the agent return from another section of the boat. FRANK You doing up to the house, Gabriella? (off her nod) Want to take this with you? He sweeps the policies into a large manila envelope, drops the 'pouch in with them, ties the string, hands it to her. FRANK Put it on my desk. He looks at his wife with her glass, Alex with his glass, and doesn't like it. His voice hardens slightly. FRANK Are we all set, Alex? ALEX I'm going to check the storage room, see what else'll travel. I know I put some vintage Armagnac in there, maybe some Porto? He heads down the gangplank. FRANK He's a vendor, Dina. It's like drinking with the help. DINA (DISARMING HIM) Did you pick the wine, sweetie? It's lovely. Frank grins, pleased. His hand curves around her shoulder. He has forgotten about the other vendor present, the agent. AGENT (AWKWARDLY) So I'll messenger over the rider for your signature -- Frank laughs out loud, in a better mood: FRANK -- You still here? Dina laughs, too. 24. 32 32 INT. VILLA, UPSTAIRS - DAY Gabriella settles the baby on his side, the only Reese she likes. She starts to close the shutters. Lullaby MUSIC is playing on the baby's TAPE DECK. IN THE HALLWAY She closes the nursery door as softly as possible. A man's hands go around her throat. Her gasp dies stillborn. It's Alex, kissing her.ear, holding Dina's diamond necklace to her neck. ALEX (MURMURING) Did he ever come on to you? GABRIELLA (ANGRY) Don't sneak up on me that way! ALEX Look how beautiful you are. He's an idiot if he didn't. Now she sees the necklace. GABRIELLA What are you doing? She snatches the necklace away from him and fairly runs down the hall to Frank's study. IN THE STUDY She tries td stuff it in the pouch. Alex is right behind her. GABRIELLA You're going to get me fired and deported. ALEX Just put it on for a minute. Look at yourself. She slaps at his hands half-heartedly, but it's so tempting. ALEX See what you deserve. GABRIELLA (SUCCUMBING) We're both crazy. (CONTINUED) 25. 32 32 CONTINUED: Alex moves her hair away. She lets him hook the necklace around her neck. He reaches over to open the closet door, fitted out now as a file cabinet, but with the original closet mirror still in place. The safe is visible. Gabriella stares at her reflection, Alex behind her, watching her. The necklace changes her posture. She angles her chin slightly, twists back her hair. Diamonds suit her. GABRIELLA (TITILLATED) It's vulgar. ALEX into her ear) Not against your skin. He starts to pleat her T-shirt loose from her jeans. She doesn't resist. They watch each other

gabrietm

How many times the word 'gabrietm' appears in the text?

Blood and Wine Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS BLOOD AND WINE Written by Nick Villiers SECOND DRAFT DECEMBER 12, 1994 FADE IN: A PAIR OF HANDS men's hands, nicely groomed, hold a small white terry towel spoiled by blood-red spots. The hands rinse the towel in a copper bar sink. The stains soften but stay. A tan jacket sleeve, spotted the same way, moves INTO FRAM. The hands dab the wet towel at the spots, with no more success, and throw it into the sink. It falls half in, still dripping the stains a drop at a time to the floor. ALL IN CLOSEUP The owner of the hands walks to a wine rack, opens a bottle of white wine, drizzles the wine on the jacket sleeve. The stains disappear. He hangs his jacket on a hook and walks from THE CELLAR and up the narrow stairs. His FOOTFALLS ECHO against the unadorned cement block walls. We see his shape, mid- forties, powerful, his shirt pulled out. He's carrying the open bottle by the neck. 2 INT. WINE STORE - NIGHT Still seen from behind, the man emerges from the cellar into a contrastingly elegant space with a wood-beamed. ceiling, vaguely European. He walks along a narrow aisle of wooden diamond bins. As the space widens his foot hits something in his path. He bends to find a shoe. He glances about nervously. There are shutters on the storefront windows. Shoe in hand, he tightens the shutters. We see his profile, a good-looking man. He walks toward a brighter room at the back of the store, the Tasting Room. Now he retrieves a pair of women's trousers from the floor, and as he straightens up we see his entire face, genial, venial, redeemed by his smile. ALEX GATES. He speaks nonchalantly toward the room. ALEX Twenty people tonight. I got a South Beach widow, a plastic surgeon -- they actually came together. (A BEAT) These people -- all they really want is something to brag about at dinner parties. He swigs from the bottle of white wine, grimaces, detours behind the counter, and spits the mouthful into the plastic lined wastebasket. He throws the bottle away. (CONTINUED) 2. 2 2 CONTINUED: There's a basket of baguettes on the counter. Alex breaks off an end and chews it to rid his mouth of the taste of the wine. Still chewing, he walks toward the tasting room. ALEX There I was, passing the wine, passing the bread, I suddenly felt like the priest at Masst Or maybe Mass started out as a wine tasting, and Jesus was a salesman. what do you think? He goes into THE TASTING ROOM It seems empty except for a large wooden table, folding chairs in disarray, open bottles clustered at one end of the table. A chalkboard on the wall has CHATEAU BEYCHEVELLE written across it at the top, vintages listed underneath. The woman's voice that replies is Gabriella's. GABRIELLA (0.S.) (with a throaty laugh) Maybe I should get dressed. Leaning against the corner is a woman wearing only her panties and a shirt. In her mid-twenties she has striking South American looks. GABRIELLA VASQUEZ. She's sipping red wine from a plastic glass. GABRIETM I don't want to spoil a religious experience. ALEX -- Ever heard of Georges Duboeuf? He throws away some of the glasses. ALEX Duboeuf has a nose and a palate -- like a gift from God. He can taste a single grape before the harvest... and describe the beaujolais it's going to produce. She laughs. GABRIELLA Oh, you have competition. (CONTINUED) 3. 2 2 CONTINUED: (2) ALEX (SLIGHTLY ANNOYED) You know how many bottles I have in this store? Open any one of 'em, I'll tell you the vintage and vintner, b lindfolded. He bends down to pick up the chunks of baguette strewn on the floor. He doesn't see her slip off her panties. She walks behind him, twirling them into a tight band. She whips them over his eyes. He laughs. GABRIELLA Okay. Show me. ALEX Victoria's Secret 95. She passes her glass under his nose. ALEX Gabriella, I picked these wines. GABRIELLA So what is it? ALEX All I can smell is your perfume. She laughs. GABRIELLA I'm not wearing any. ALEX I even bought it for you. She opens her shirt. She's not wearing a bra. She lowers her breast to the glass and then to his mouth. GABRIELLA Tell me now. He kisses her wet breast. ALEX (WITHOUT HESITATION) Beychevelle '83. Lot of body. Very aggressive. He pulls off the panty blindfold, kisses her on the mouth softly, then fully. (CONTINUED) 4. 2 2 CONTINUED: (3) GABRIELLA (LOW) -- I lo e y u, Alex. V O 3 3 INT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT (LATER) Alex is unlocking the door for Gabriella. Dressed, she looks younger. They're awkward with each other. GABRIELLA Don't think you have to say it because .1 say it, Alex. (SMILING BRIGHTLY) Doesn't mean anything.. ALEX It means something to me. GABRIELLA (EASED) We're good together, aren't we. Alex lets out a breath. ALEX Oh, yeah... We're pretty good. He kisses her goodbye, unlocks the door. She goes out to her Honda Civic. Alex doesn't wait to see her drive off before he heads back to finish cleaning up the tasting room. 4 4 INT. TASTING ROOM - NIGHT Alex straightens the last chair and starts to extract air from the open bottles. He hears a quiet CLANK of METAL. Instantly alert, he reaches for his jacket and turns off the-light. 5 5 INT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT Behind the cash register Alex opens a drawer and takes out a revolver. ze thumbs the safety off. The NOISES RECUR, like someone trying to break in through the back door from the parking lot. Alex slings his jacket casually over the gun. 5. 6 6 EXT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT Alex throws open the back door; he's counting on the element of surprise. HIS POV His red Cadillac convertible is idling nose.to the chain locked across the parking lot. A MAN in his twenties, whose tropical shirt fairly glows under the security lights, is using a pair of bolt cutters on the chain. ALEX (ADVANCING) You think you're gonna steal my car, asshole? The younger man whirls around. YOUNG MAN You scared me, man. A middle-aged man, a REPO MAN, calls out lazily from behind the wheel. REPO MAN This is not your car, sir. This car belongs to the Star Leasing Company. Alex buries the gun in the rear of his waistband as though he's rubbing his stiff back and cranks his smile to a higher wattage than the security lights. REPO MAN I can collect either the money or the car. Given how much you owe, I figure it's the car. The younger man has almost hacked through the chain. ALEX Pop the. trunk. REPO MAN We inventory the property at the yard. He keeps his eye on the chain, ready to gun the engine as soon as the exit is clear. ALEX I just want to show you something. Worked by the combination of natural curiosity and Alex's charm; the repo man pops the trunk and gets out of the still-running car. (CONTINUED) 6. 6 6 CONTINUED: In his hand he has the locking "Club" Alex usually uses to secure his. steering wheel. He's not stupid. Amused, Alex takes a step back, palms up. YOUNG MAN What are you doing? The repo man ignores him and looks in the trunk. ALEX Do you drink? REPO MAN Not on the job. What is this, booze? ALEX Two cases of single malt whiskey aged in the barrel before he was born. REPO MAN The Caddy's overdue. ALEX So are you. Drink it with the kid. Teach him what smooth is. Enjoy yourselves. Isn't that worth a few days' breather... (A BEAT) My accountant's a fuck-up. So am I, maybe, for not firing him. The bolt cutters clip through. The chain falls. YOUNG MAN We're clear. 7 7 INT. CADILLAC - NIGHT Alex is driving fast, top down, Samba MUSIC loud on the STEREO. He keeps time on the wheel as the Miami skyline cruises by. EXT. CADILLAC - NIGHT Alex turns into the garage of an expensive condominium building before the gate has slid all the way open. The TIRES SQUEAL as he powers the car around the corner. (CONTINUED) 7. 8 8 CONTINUED: A DUCATI MOTORCYCLE hogs his space. Alex lays the car in tightly. He has to squeeze out the door. He bumps the Ducati. It starts to topple; he grabs it before it goes over. 9 9 INT. CONDO - NIGHT Alex lets himself in. The entry ALARM starts to BEEP. He turns it off and resets it. The light has been left on in the kitchen. 10 10 INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT JASON, a handsome, troubled 17-year-old with long, dark hair, is filing barbs off a pile of fishing hooks on the center island. He looks harder and wiser than his years. Tackle is strewn everywhere. Some spaghetti remains in the pot it was cooked in and Jason's knife is standing upright in it. Alex walks into the kitchen. He makes an effort to be pleasant, although he's irritated by the mess, by the motorcycle. ALEX It's late, Jason. JASON I'm going out tonight. Alex exhales. ALEX You can't'fish all night and work all day. JASON Working for you doesn't exactly tax my mind. ALEX No wonder you drop bottles. JASON Fire me. ALEX Do you do it on purpose? JASON Fishing bought me my bike. (CONTINUED) 8. 10 10 CONTINUED: ALEX I almost knocked it over trying to get out of the car. JASON (SARCASTIC) I wasn't sure you were coming home. SEVERS The TOASTER OVEN DINGS. Jason takes out a muffin, it in two with his fishing knife. ALEX Use a regular knife. JASON This has a better edge. Feel it (pointing it at Alex, BLADE FLAT) -- feel it. Their voices are rising. ALEX Pointed, it's a fucking weapon. Put it away. JASON Hell with you. Jason exits to the stairs. ALEX And keep your voice down. Your mother's asleep. STAIRS JASON If you got home on time once in a while, maybe she could skip the chemical help. Alex is also on the stairs. ALEX You have no idea, none, zip, what goes on in a marriage. JASON Yeah, well, I'm learning more than I want to. (CONTINUED)' 9. 10 10 CONTINUED: (2) LANDING UPSTAIRS SUZANNE (O .S=.. ) Now what are you arguing about? SUZANNE is a pretty young woman in her late thirties with a sense of humor and irony. She's chemically relaxed, but not stupefied. She pulls a robe around herself, modest in front of her son; and although her body's not spectacular, like Gabriella's, she has a trim. athletic build. JASON It's not an argument. ALEX I asked him to clean up downstairs. SUZANNE (SOOTHING ALEX) Maybe he hadn't finished- ALEX A modicum of cooperation, you know? JASON A modicum. What's that. Modicum my ass. He pushes past his mother toward his own room. Suzanne follows him down the hallway, leaving. Alex behind. SUZANNE I don't like that tone from: you. JASON Then go to bed. ALEX Hey! JASON (RIGHT BACK) What! SUZANNE It's too late for this. ALEX Jason has gone into his room. He slams the door. CHOOSES enters his bedroom. Suzanne, alone for a-moment, to enter Jason's room. 10. 11 11 INT. JASON'S ROOM SUZANNE He's my husband. JASON (SOFTLY) I know, Mom. SUZANNE -- I still love him. JASON Whatever. She walks out. 12 12 INT. BATHROOM - NIGHT Alex stands under water as hot as he can stand, parboiling himself. Eyes squeezed shut, he lets out a long breath. His life demands more energy than he has anymore. He soaps himself thoroughly. 13 13 INT. MASTER BEDROOM - NIGHT Suzanne hears the front DOOR SLAM. Jason's DUCATI STARTS UP and ACCELERATES away. Alex comes out of the bathroom in a towel. SUZANNE (FONDLY) Lie down, I'll give you a back rub. She stumbles slightly against the bed, catches a bed post for balance, flops back on the bed with a laugh. SUZANNE -- maybe I'd better lie down. He bends down to kiss her, then heads for the television. Suzanne props herself up on her elbows. He pops a cassette into the VCR: porno, she assumes. She does her best. SUZANNE I liked the twin nurses. There was kind of a story. Alex brings the remote control back to bed. ALEX You'll like this one better. (CONTINUED) 11. 13 13 CONTINUED: He hangs his towel on a doorknob, slides into bed, starts the tape, which begins with sweat-slick dancing girls at Carnival. To Suzanne's astonishment, it turns out to be a travelog. SUZANNE Rio? ALEX I've been so busy. We could sneak away for a week.. Would you like that? SUZANNE If we really go. Last time I packed, we went nowhere. ALEX (SLEEPILY) Last time was different. SUZANNE (watching the tape) The beaches -- I thought we had a beach. I read how the hotels keep spotters on the roof with scopes, to keep thieves away from the guests. They can look at every inch of your body through the scope. (with a low laugh) Do you mind that I like that? Alex? He has fallen asleep. Tenderly she draws the sheet to his shoulder and settles down to watch the rest of the tape. DISSOLVE TO: 14 EXT. BOAT - DAWN 14 On the flying bridge of an old fishing boat, Jason eases the throttle to idle speed. The engine quiets down. The SWELLS SLAP harder against the wooden sides. The boat dips and dances to the music of the water. Jason swings down the ladder. He sets up his linis to troll. The starry dome of the sky is starting to brighten around its rim. Jason leans on the transom and stares at the flat, silvery wedge of wake. He breathes out a word. JASON :. Bite... (CONTINUED) 12. 14 14 CONTINUED: Nothing happens. He doesn't move. Then the top of one of the rods shivers slightly, goes still. Jason delicately fingers the rod like a blind man reading Braille, to feel for vibration. A smile pulls at his mouth. He steps behind the rod. The fish hits. JASON (CALLING OUT) Henryl Fish ont The line screams out. Jason's ready. He sets the hook. JASON Time to go to work, man! C'mon. A tall, black drifter appears from-below, still yawning, scratching. HENRY, 33. He wears a red Panama hat that's weathered his head for some time. HENRY Who we got? JASON Let's find out. He hauls back on the rod, the line rises from the ocean, they both recognize the fish at the end. HENRY Fucking sharks. Miami's fished out of the good stuff. Damn. He spits over the side. Jason grins. JASON This one's got more to worry about than you do. He starts to reel in the fish. Henry moves to the wheel.- HENRY Just shoot 'Jaws' in the water. I want to know the sucker's good and dead 'fore he sets a fin in my boat. You got a barb on that hook? . JASON Oh, yeah. Jason braces for the fight. 13. 15 15 EXT. DOCK - MORNING Jason and Henry are cutting the shark with the speed and dexterity of professionals. HENRY The Gulf, man, that's the place. And what makes you think fifty-fifty is right? My boat. My gas. JASON My skill. (slicing off the fins) ... My fins. 16 16 EXT. FISH MARKET - LONG SHOT - MORNING Jason and Henry slap their catch onto the Fishmonger's slippery counter. The market's noisy, men shouting. We see the negotiation from a distance. 17 EXT. DOCK - DAY (MINUTES LATE) 17 Jason and Henry walk through the hubbub. HENRY You cool? JASON I'm cool. HENRY We cool. Jason guns his Ducati. 18 INT. WINE STORE - DAY 18 Alex comes out of his office. ALEX Rob, has Jason shown up? A man's French-accented VOICE answers him from the store. ROBERT (O.S.) Not yet. ALEX You have his paycheck there? ROBERT All ready. (CONTINUED) 14. 18 18 CONTINUED: Alex takes it, and rips it up. 19 19 INT. CHINESE RESTAURANT - DAY The Chinese CHEF in the busy, steamy kitchen is inspecting the shark fins Jason has brought him. Jason is anxious to finish business and go. CHEF You no like my company? Fine. Who cares. Bring me more fin, you retire. You no want to retire? Good. Don't charge starving Chinese so much for these things. JASON You ever caught a shark? CHEF (BIGGER) You ever cook one? JASON Lemme -- lemme show you something. Jason pulls up the sleeve of his denim jacket to display a fresh gash across his arm. JASON He was already gaffed onto the side of the boat, good as dead. Two hours dead! And I was still too close to the mouth. Revenge is the last instinct to go, did you know that? The chef shrugs and shows his thumb, missing a joint. CHEF -- Work's a dangerous thing. (smiling with lots of TEETH) Nice fin, Jason. He tosses the fins in a cauldron of boiling water, slaps the CASH REGISTER on the side. It RINGS. 20 20 EXT. RESTAURANT - DAY Jason jams on his helmet and starts his. motorcycle, guns it down the street. (CONTINUED) 15. 20 20 CONTINUED: MIAMI SKYLINE Jason weaves through traffic, expert enough to take chances that goose the adrenalin. 21 21 EXT. WINE SHOP - DAY Robert and Alex are loading cases of wine into the trunk of the Caddy when Jason skids into the parking lot. He takes off his helmet. ALEX Just get in the car. 22 22 INT. CADILLAC - DAY (TRAVELING) Jason has fallen asleep while Alex drives. Alex picks up Jason's hand. Jerking awake, Jason tries to pull away, but his reflexes are sleep-slowed. Alex sniffs Jason's fingers, wrinkles his nose, lets Jason have his hand back. ALEX You stink. JASON I washed. ALEX There's Wash IN Dries in the glove compartment. Jason opens the compartment, finds the packets, opens one, rubs his hands. ALEX ... I'm trying here, Jason -- I really am. When you didn't want to go to college, I took your side, I said fine -- I mean, I -didn't finish college, and I've done all right. I gave you a job', a steady check, which is more than anybody else has done. And what do I get back? Shit. I've tried to teach you the business -- the care, the finesse... Jason laughs dismissively. (CONTINUED) 16. 22 22 CONTINUED: ALEX Well, look at it this way, Jason, someday you'll have your boat and I'll have my vineyard, and the best part '11 be they're nowhere near each other. JASON (SATISFIED) I'll send you a Christmas card. ALEX Save the stamp. They turn into the driveway to an expensive development. 23 23 EXT. SECURITY BOOTH, CORAL GABLES - DAY The Cadillac rolls to a stop at the ate. A tough, but amicable-looking armed guard in his forties, MIKE, opens the window of the air-conditioned booth. His RADIO is tuned to the FOOTBALL GAME. ALEX Hi, mike -- what's the score? MIKE (CHECKING THE APPOINTMENT BOARD) Dolphins down by nine, minute forty to go. It's over. ALEX Don't underestimate Marino. Mike ticks off the appointment, raises the gate. MIKE I told you, they don't have it this year. With a wave of acknowledgment for Mike, Alex.. drives onto the grounds. ALEX (YELLING BACK) Judas! Grinning, Mike routinely writes down the license plate number. 17. 24 24 EXT. CADILLAC - DAY Alex cruises past a collection of oversized villas, and turns into the driveway of the gaudiest. He and Jason climb out of the car. Alex opens the trunk. He loads two wine cases into Jason's arms, takes the third himself. They haven't said a word to each other. 25 25 EXT. VILLA - DAY Alex rings the intercom with his elbow. Gabriella's VOICE CRACKLES in response. GABRIELLA (V.O.) on the intercom) Who is it? ALEX Wine delivery. The INTERCOM CLICKS off. They hear FOOTSTEPS approaching. The door opens. Jason's eyes focus. He's hooked. Gabriella is smiling at Alex. She has her arms full of clean burp cloths. GABRIELLA Oh, the boss himself! ALEX (with a modest chuckle) How are you? She glances politely toward Jason, not at all expecting what she sees. A circuit connects between them. ALEX Gabriella takes care of Baby Reese. (TO GABRIELLA) This is my stepson, Jason. GABRIELLA (VERY CORRECT) How do you do. JASON Hi. GABRIELLA Is the wine for the boat? Come through the house. 18. 26 26 INT./EXT. VILLA - DAY They follow her inside. Jason takes in the richness of the place, but is more focussed on Gabriella. They exit TO T he lawn which leads to a dock. 27 27 EXT. REESES' BOAT DAY A sleek, ocean-going yacht is tied up at the dock, the crew unobtrusively at work. FRANK REESE, a powerful, confidant man in his mid-sixties, is sitting with his INSURANCE AGENT at a table on deck where policies are spread out next to a jewelry box. Reese's expensive 35- year-old wife DINA has turned her chair to sun her legs while she plays with the BABY. DINA -- what's the point of having it, if I can't wear it, Frank? AGENT (DEFERENTIALLY) You can wear it anywhere you like, Mrs. Reese -- except out of the country. Gabriella leads Alex and Jason aboard. Frank likes Alex and is glad to see him. Alex can't help glancing at Dina's long legs.. She smiles. FRANK Alex, should we insure the wine while we're at it? His arms tired,'Alex is happy to set down the case. ALEX Aren't you covered on your home policy? GABRIELLA (TO JASON) I'll show you, come on. AGENT How much wine are we talking about? Jason follows Gabriella down below, the VOICES on the deck fading. DINA (O.S.) Why bother insuring it? Let's drink it instead. 19. 28 28 INT. BOAT - DAY It's quiet inside, not tasteful but impressive, like everything else of the Reeses. Jason takes a stab at conversation. JASON Big boat. Gabriella laughs and looks over her shoulder at him. They're both kids. GABRIELLA ugly, isn't it. He grins and relaxes, looks around. JASON The fittings are definitely -- yeah on the ugly side. But damn, she's solid. GABRIELLA Oh, a boat type. JASON (proud, defensive) I like.boats. Gabriella shows him the climatized, built-in wine closet next to the galley. He starts to rack the bottles while she watches. He talks to stop her from leaving. JASON So where you headed? GABRIELLA I'm not going, 'I can't go. JASON They don't want to take the baby. GABRIELLA I don't have a green card, I can't leave the country. Baby goes with an American nurse. I house-sit. It's fine. JASON You don't like them. Gabriella laughs. (CONTINUED) 20. 28 28 CONTINUED: GABRIELLA God. I'm obvious. I just don't like working for people, but that's life. He chafes under authority the same way she does. JASON Doesn't have to be. GABRIELLA Maybe not with a rich stepfather. He laughs. JASON Worst kind. GABRIELLA (CORRECTIVELY) No. (A BEAT) You don't appreciate what you have, Jason. It's very poor where I came from. JASON Where's that? GABRIELLA Venezuela. Do I look it? JASON I don't know, I never been there. GABRIELLA Well, I don't. My mother's Indian. The India kind of Indian. (LAUGHS) Imagine a house where the father asks 'What's for dinner' in Spanish, and the mother answers 'Curry' in Hindi. 'Que hay para cenar' she says, 'Murgee, masala, ghaal.' He says, 'No es importante.' No wonder I'm nuts. JASON You don't seem too nuts. She laughs. GABRIELLA You don't know mel (OOR1TINUED ) 21. 28 CONTINUED: .( 2) 28 They're suddenly both very aware that they're alone together. 29 29 EXT. BOAT, THE DECK - DAY The agent is putting a magnificent diamond necklace in a velvet pouch that he fastidiously cinches and ties. Alex looks away from it to take a bottle out of the remaining case on deck. AGENT -- so back to the safe it goes -- Dina lifts up the baby and smells its bottom. FRANK Dina, that's disgusting. DINA The alternative is using your fingers, Frank. which offends you more? Alex laughs. Frank pushes back his chair. FRANK Don't encourage her, Alex. Her mouth is big enough. Dina is hurt. FRANK (to the agent) I'll show you that painting in our stateroom. The agent follows him away. ALEX (kindly; to Dina) Do you want to see the label? She hides her hurt by not looking at him. DINA Just open the bottle, Alex. Pour us both a glass. I'm not allowed to drink alone. When she turns her head and looks at him, she's flirting. 22. 30 30 INT. BOAT - DAY Jason has almost finished storing the wine. Gabriella is sitting on a bar stool at the galley,. listening to him, snared by the quiet passion in his voice. JASON -- when you're skimming along the water, nothing between you and the bottom of the sea but a layer of wood, your thoughts... end. All that noise inside your head? Gabriella nods, understanding exactly. JASON . . . Stops. Dina's VOICE booms over the INTERCOM, startling both of them. The BABY is FUSSING. Gabriella makes a gesture of apology to Jason. DINA (V.O.) Gabriella? Are you down there? GABRIELLA Yes, Mrs. Reese. DINA (V.0.) The baby needs you. And bring a pacifier for Frank. GABRIELLA Right there. She slides off the stool. JASON You should come out with me sometime. She smiles without answering and goes topside. His eyes follow her. A Deckhand comes down the ladder with the remaining case of wine for him to stock. 31 EXT. BOAT - DAY 31 Gabriella. lifts the fussy baby from Dina, her hands sure and calming. She coos nonsense to his little ear as she- reaches for the diaper bag and slings it over her arm. GABRIELLA He.'s ready for his nap. (CONTINUED) 23. 31 31 CONTINUED: Frank and the agent return from another section of the boat. FRANK You doing up to the house, Gabriella? (off her nod) Want to take this with you? He sweeps the policies into a large manila envelope, drops the 'pouch in with them, ties the string, hands it to her. FRANK Put it on my desk. He looks at his wife with her glass, Alex with his glass, and doesn't like it. His voice hardens slightly. FRANK Are we all set, Alex? ALEX I'm going to check the storage room, see what else'll travel. I know I put some vintage Armagnac in there, maybe some Porto? He heads down the gangplank. FRANK He's a vendor, Dina. It's like drinking with the help. DINA (DISARMING HIM) Did you pick the wine, sweetie? It's lovely. Frank grins, pleased. His hand curves around her shoulder. He has forgotten about the other vendor present, the agent. AGENT (AWKWARDLY) So I'll messenger over the rider for your signature -- Frank laughs out loud, in a better mood: FRANK -- You still here? Dina laughs, too. 24. 32 32 INT. VILLA, UPSTAIRS - DAY Gabriella settles the baby on his side, the only Reese she likes. She starts to close the shutters. Lullaby MUSIC is playing on the baby's TAPE DECK. IN THE HALLWAY She closes the nursery door as softly as possible. A man's hands go around her throat. Her gasp dies stillborn. It's Alex, kissing her.ear, holding Dina's diamond necklace to her neck. ALEX (MURMURING) Did he ever come on to you? GABRIELLA (ANGRY) Don't sneak up on me that way! ALEX Look how beautiful you are. He's an idiot if he didn't. Now she sees the necklace. GABRIELLA What are you doing? She snatches the necklace away from him and fairly runs down the hall to Frank's study. IN THE STUDY She tries td stuff it in the pouch. Alex is right behind her. GABRIELLA You're going to get me fired and deported. ALEX Just put it on for a minute. Look at yourself. She slaps at his hands half-heartedly, but it's so tempting. ALEX See what you deserve. GABRIELLA (SUCCUMBING) We're both crazy. (CONTINUED) 25. 32 32 CONTINUED: Alex moves her hair away. She lets him hook the necklace around her neck. He reaches over to open the closet door, fitted out now as a file cabinet, but with the original closet mirror still in place. The safe is visible. Gabriella stares at her reflection, Alex behind her, watching her. The necklace changes her posture. She angles her chin slightly, twists back her hair. Diamonds suit her. GABRIELLA (TITILLATED) It's vulgar. ALEX into her ear) Not against your skin. He starts to pleat her T-shirt loose from her jeans. She doesn't resist. They watch each other

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Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS BLOOD AND WINE Written by Nick Villiers SECOND DRAFT DECEMBER 12, 1994 FADE IN: A PAIR OF HANDS men's hands, nicely groomed, hold a small white terry towel spoiled by blood-red spots. The hands rinse the towel in a copper bar sink. The stains soften but stay. A tan jacket sleeve, spotted the same way, moves INTO FRAM. The hands dab the wet towel at the spots, with no more success, and throw it into the sink. It falls half in, still dripping the stains a drop at a time to the floor. ALL IN CLOSEUP The owner of the hands walks to a wine rack, opens a bottle of white wine, drizzles the wine on the jacket sleeve. The stains disappear. He hangs his jacket on a hook and walks from THE CELLAR and up the narrow stairs. His FOOTFALLS ECHO against the unadorned cement block walls. We see his shape, mid- forties, powerful, his shirt pulled out. He's carrying the open bottle by the neck. 2 INT. WINE STORE - NIGHT Still seen from behind, the man emerges from the cellar into a contrastingly elegant space with a wood-beamed. ceiling, vaguely European. He walks along a narrow aisle of wooden diamond bins. As the space widens his foot hits something in his path. He bends to find a shoe. He glances about nervously. There are shutters on the storefront windows. Shoe in hand, he tightens the shutters. We see his profile, a good-looking man. He walks toward a brighter room at the back of the store, the Tasting Room. Now he retrieves a pair of women's trousers from the floor, and as he straightens up we see his entire face, genial, venial, redeemed by his smile. ALEX GATES. He speaks nonchalantly toward the room. ALEX Twenty people tonight. I got a South Beach widow, a plastic surgeon -- they actually came together. (A BEAT) These people -- all they really want is something to brag about at dinner parties. He swigs from the bottle of white wine, grimaces, detours behind the counter, and spits the mouthful into the plastic lined wastebasket. He throws the bottle away. (CONTINUED) 2. 2 2 CONTINUED: There's a basket of baguettes on the counter. Alex breaks off an end and chews it to rid his mouth of the taste of the wine. Still chewing, he walks toward the tasting room. ALEX There I was, passing the wine, passing the bread, I suddenly felt like the priest at Masst Or maybe Mass started out as a wine tasting, and Jesus was a salesman. what do you think? He goes into THE TASTING ROOM It seems empty except for a large wooden table, folding chairs in disarray, open bottles clustered at one end of the table. A chalkboard on the wall has CHATEAU BEYCHEVELLE written across it at the top, vintages listed underneath. The woman's voice that replies is Gabriella's. GABRIELLA (0.S.) (with a throaty laugh) Maybe I should get dressed. Leaning against the corner is a woman wearing only her panties and a shirt. In her mid-twenties she has striking South American looks. GABRIELLA VASQUEZ. She's sipping red wine from a plastic glass. GABRIETM I don't want to spoil a religious experience. ALEX -- Ever heard of Georges Duboeuf? He throws away some of the glasses. ALEX Duboeuf has a nose and a palate -- like a gift from God. He can taste a single grape before the harvest... and describe the beaujolais it's going to produce. She laughs. GABRIELLA Oh, you have competition. (CONTINUED) 3. 2 2 CONTINUED: (2) ALEX (SLIGHTLY ANNOYED) You know how many bottles I have in this store? Open any one of 'em, I'll tell you the vintage and vintner, b lindfolded. He bends down to pick up the chunks of baguette strewn on the floor. He doesn't see her slip off her panties. She walks behind him, twirling them into a tight band. She whips them over his eyes. He laughs. GABRIELLA Okay. Show me. ALEX Victoria's Secret 95. She passes her glass under his nose. ALEX Gabriella, I picked these wines. GABRIELLA So what is it? ALEX All I can smell is your perfume. She laughs. GABRIELLA I'm not wearing any. ALEX I even bought it for you. She opens her shirt. She's not wearing a bra. She lowers her breast to the glass and then to his mouth. GABRIELLA Tell me now. He kisses her wet breast. ALEX (WITHOUT HESITATION) Beychevelle '83. Lot of body. Very aggressive. He pulls off the panty blindfold, kisses her on the mouth softly, then fully. (CONTINUED) 4. 2 2 CONTINUED: (3) GABRIELLA (LOW) -- I lo e y u, Alex. V O 3 3 INT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT (LATER) Alex is unlocking the door for Gabriella. Dressed, she looks younger. They're awkward with each other. GABRIELLA Don't think you have to say it because .1 say it, Alex. (SMILING BRIGHTLY) Doesn't mean anything.. ALEX It means something to me. GABRIELLA (EASED) We're good together, aren't we. Alex lets out a breath. ALEX Oh, yeah... We're pretty good. He kisses her goodbye, unlocks the door. She goes out to her Honda Civic. Alex doesn't wait to see her drive off before he heads back to finish cleaning up the tasting room. 4 4 INT. TASTING ROOM - NIGHT Alex straightens the last chair and starts to extract air from the open bottles. He hears a quiet CLANK of METAL. Instantly alert, he reaches for his jacket and turns off the-light. 5 5 INT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT Behind the cash register Alex opens a drawer and takes out a revolver. ze thumbs the safety off. The NOISES RECUR, like someone trying to break in through the back door from the parking lot. Alex slings his jacket casually over the gun. 5. 6 6 EXT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT Alex throws open the back door; he's counting on the element of surprise. HIS POV His red Cadillac convertible is idling nose.to the chain locked across the parking lot. A MAN in his twenties, whose tropical shirt fairly glows under the security lights, is using a pair of bolt cutters on the chain. ALEX (ADVANCING) You think you're gonna steal my car, asshole? The younger man whirls around. YOUNG MAN You scared me, man. A middle-aged man, a REPO MAN, calls out lazily from behind the wheel. REPO MAN This is not your car, sir. This car belongs to the Star Leasing Company. Alex buries the gun in the rear of his waistband as though he's rubbing his stiff back and cranks his smile to a higher wattage than the security lights. REPO MAN I can collect either the money or the car. Given how much you owe, I figure it's the car. The younger man has almost hacked through the chain. ALEX Pop the. trunk. REPO MAN We inventory the property at the yard. He keeps his eye on the chain, ready to gun the engine as soon as the exit is clear. ALEX I just want to show you something. Worked by the combination of natural curiosity and Alex's charm; the repo man pops the trunk and gets out of the still-running car. (CONTINUED) 6. 6 6 CONTINUED: In his hand he has the locking "Club" Alex usually uses to secure his. steering wheel. He's not stupid. Amused, Alex takes a step back, palms up. YOUNG MAN What are you doing? The repo man ignores him and looks in the trunk. ALEX Do you drink? REPO MAN Not on the job. What is this, booze? ALEX Two cases of single malt whiskey aged in the barrel before he was born. REPO MAN The Caddy's overdue. ALEX So are you. Drink it with the kid. Teach him what smooth is. Enjoy yourselves. Isn't that worth a few days' breather... (A BEAT) My accountant's a fuck-up. So am I, maybe, for not firing him. The bolt cutters clip through. The chain falls. YOUNG MAN We're clear. 7 7 INT. CADILLAC - NIGHT Alex is driving fast, top down, Samba MUSIC loud on the STEREO. He keeps time on the wheel as the Miami skyline cruises by. EXT. CADILLAC - NIGHT Alex turns into the garage of an expensive condominium building before the gate has slid all the way open. The TIRES SQUEAL as he powers the car around the corner. (CONTINUED) 7. 8 8 CONTINUED: A DUCATI MOTORCYCLE hogs his space. Alex lays the car in tightly. He has to squeeze out the door. He bumps the Ducati. It starts to topple; he grabs it before it goes over. 9 9 INT. CONDO - NIGHT Alex lets himself in. The entry ALARM starts to BEEP. He turns it off and resets it. The light has been left on in the kitchen. 10 10 INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT JASON, a handsome, troubled 17-year-old with long, dark hair, is filing barbs off a pile of fishing hooks on the center island. He looks harder and wiser than his years. Tackle is strewn everywhere. Some spaghetti remains in the pot it was cooked in and Jason's knife is standing upright in it. Alex walks into the kitchen. He makes an effort to be pleasant, although he's irritated by the mess, by the motorcycle. ALEX It's late, Jason. JASON I'm going out tonight. Alex exhales. ALEX You can't'fish all night and work all day. JASON Working for you doesn't exactly tax my mind. ALEX No wonder you drop bottles. JASON Fire me. ALEX Do you do it on purpose? JASON Fishing bought me my bike. (CONTINUED) 8. 10 10 CONTINUED: ALEX I almost knocked it over trying to get out of the car. JASON (SARCASTIC) I wasn't sure you were coming home. SEVERS The TOASTER OVEN DINGS. Jason takes out a muffin, it in two with his fishing knife. ALEX Use a regular knife. JASON This has a better edge. Feel it (pointing it at Alex, BLADE FLAT) -- feel it. Their voices are rising. ALEX Pointed, it's a fucking weapon. Put it away. JASON Hell with you. Jason exits to the stairs. ALEX And keep your voice down. Your mother's asleep. STAIRS JASON If you got home on time once in a while, maybe she could skip the chemical help. Alex is also on the stairs. ALEX You have no idea, none, zip, what goes on in a marriage. JASON Yeah, well, I'm learning more than I want to. (CONTINUED)' 9. 10 10 CONTINUED: (2) LANDING UPSTAIRS SUZANNE (O .S=.. ) Now what are you arguing about? SUZANNE is a pretty young woman in her late thirties with a sense of humor and irony. She's chemically relaxed, but not stupefied. She pulls a robe around herself, modest in front of her son; and although her body's not spectacular, like Gabriella's, she has a trim. athletic build. JASON It's not an argument. ALEX I asked him to clean up downstairs. SUZANNE (SOOTHING ALEX) Maybe he hadn't finished- ALEX A modicum of cooperation, you know? JASON A modicum. What's that. Modicum my ass. He pushes past his mother toward his own room. Suzanne follows him down the hallway, leaving. Alex behind. SUZANNE I don't like that tone from: you. JASON Then go to bed. ALEX Hey! JASON (RIGHT BACK) What! SUZANNE It's too late for this. ALEX Jason has gone into his room. He slams the door. CHOOSES enters his bedroom. Suzanne, alone for a-moment, to enter Jason's room. 10. 11 11 INT. JASON'S ROOM SUZANNE He's my husband. JASON (SOFTLY) I know, Mom. SUZANNE -- I still love him. JASON Whatever. She walks out. 12 12 INT. BATHROOM - NIGHT Alex stands under water as hot as he can stand, parboiling himself. Eyes squeezed shut, he lets out a long breath. His life demands more energy than he has anymore. He soaps himself thoroughly. 13 13 INT. MASTER BEDROOM - NIGHT Suzanne hears the front DOOR SLAM. Jason's DUCATI STARTS UP and ACCELERATES away. Alex comes out of the bathroom in a towel. SUZANNE (FONDLY) Lie down, I'll give you a back rub. She stumbles slightly against the bed, catches a bed post for balance, flops back on the bed with a laugh. SUZANNE -- maybe I'd better lie down. He bends down to kiss her, then heads for the television. Suzanne props herself up on her elbows. He pops a cassette into the VCR: porno, she assumes. She does her best. SUZANNE I liked the twin nurses. There was kind of a story. Alex brings the remote control back to bed. ALEX You'll like this one better. (CONTINUED) 11. 13 13 CONTINUED: He hangs his towel on a doorknob, slides into bed, starts the tape, which begins with sweat-slick dancing girls at Carnival. To Suzanne's astonishment, it turns out to be a travelog. SUZANNE Rio? ALEX I've been so busy. We could sneak away for a week.. Would you like that? SUZANNE If we really go. Last time I packed, we went nowhere. ALEX (SLEEPILY) Last time was different. SUZANNE (watching the tape) The beaches -- I thought we had a beach. I read how the hotels keep spotters on the roof with scopes, to keep thieves away from the guests. They can look at every inch of your body through the scope. (with a low laugh) Do you mind that I like that? Alex? He has fallen asleep. Tenderly she draws the sheet to his shoulder and settles down to watch the rest of the tape. DISSOLVE TO: 14 EXT. BOAT - DAWN 14 On the flying bridge of an old fishing boat, Jason eases the throttle to idle speed. The engine quiets down. The SWELLS SLAP harder against the wooden sides. The boat dips and dances to the music of the water. Jason swings down the ladder. He sets up his linis to troll. The starry dome of the sky is starting to brighten around its rim. Jason leans on the transom and stares at the flat, silvery wedge of wake. He breathes out a word. JASON :. Bite... (CONTINUED) 12. 14 14 CONTINUED: Nothing happens. He doesn't move. Then the top of one of the rods shivers slightly, goes still. Jason delicately fingers the rod like a blind man reading Braille, to feel for vibration. A smile pulls at his mouth. He steps behind the rod. The fish hits. JASON (CALLING OUT) Henryl Fish ont The line screams out. Jason's ready. He sets the hook. JASON Time to go to work, man! C'mon. A tall, black drifter appears from-below, still yawning, scratching. HENRY, 33. He wears a red Panama hat that's weathered his head for some time. HENRY Who we got? JASON Let's find out. He hauls back on the rod, the line rises from the ocean, they both recognize the fish at the end. HENRY Fucking sharks. Miami's fished out of the good stuff. Damn. He spits over the side. Jason grins. JASON This one's got more to worry about than you do. He starts to reel in the fish. Henry moves to the wheel.- HENRY Just shoot 'Jaws' in the water. I want to know the sucker's good and dead 'fore he sets a fin in my boat. You got a barb on that hook? . JASON Oh, yeah. Jason braces for the fight. 13. 15 15 EXT. DOCK - MORNING Jason and Henry are cutting the shark with the speed and dexterity of professionals. HENRY The Gulf, man, that's the place. And what makes you think fifty-fifty is right? My boat. My gas. JASON My skill. (slicing off the fins) ... My fins. 16 16 EXT. FISH MARKET - LONG SHOT - MORNING Jason and Henry slap their catch onto the Fishmonger's slippery counter. The market's noisy, men shouting. We see the negotiation from a distance. 17 EXT. DOCK - DAY (MINUTES LATE) 17 Jason and Henry walk through the hubbub. HENRY You cool? JASON I'm cool. HENRY We cool. Jason guns his Ducati. 18 INT. WINE STORE - DAY 18 Alex comes out of his office. ALEX Rob, has Jason shown up? A man's French-accented VOICE answers him from the store. ROBERT (O.S.) Not yet. ALEX You have his paycheck there? ROBERT All ready. (CONTINUED) 14. 18 18 CONTINUED: Alex takes it, and rips it up. 19 19 INT. CHINESE RESTAURANT - DAY The Chinese CHEF in the busy, steamy kitchen is inspecting the shark fins Jason has brought him. Jason is anxious to finish business and go. CHEF You no like my company? Fine. Who cares. Bring me more fin, you retire. You no want to retire? Good. Don't charge starving Chinese so much for these things. JASON You ever caught a shark? CHEF (BIGGER) You ever cook one? JASON Lemme -- lemme show you something. Jason pulls up the sleeve of his denim jacket to display a fresh gash across his arm. JASON He was already gaffed onto the side of the boat, good as dead. Two hours dead! And I was still too close to the mouth. Revenge is the last instinct to go, did you know that? The chef shrugs and shows his thumb, missing a joint. CHEF -- Work's a dangerous thing. (smiling with lots of TEETH) Nice fin, Jason. He tosses the fins in a cauldron of boiling water, slaps the CASH REGISTER on the side. It RINGS. 20 20 EXT. RESTAURANT - DAY Jason jams on his helmet and starts his. motorcycle, guns it down the street. (CONTINUED) 15. 20 20 CONTINUED: MIAMI SKYLINE Jason weaves through traffic, expert enough to take chances that goose the adrenalin. 21 21 EXT. WINE SHOP - DAY Robert and Alex are loading cases of wine into the trunk of the Caddy when Jason skids into the parking lot. He takes off his helmet. ALEX Just get in the car. 22 22 INT. CADILLAC - DAY (TRAVELING) Jason has fallen asleep while Alex drives. Alex picks up Jason's hand. Jerking awake, Jason tries to pull away, but his reflexes are sleep-slowed. Alex sniffs Jason's fingers, wrinkles his nose, lets Jason have his hand back. ALEX You stink. JASON I washed. ALEX There's Wash IN Dries in the glove compartment. Jason opens the compartment, finds the packets, opens one, rubs his hands. ALEX ... I'm trying here, Jason -- I really am. When you didn't want to go to college, I took your side, I said fine -- I mean, I -didn't finish college, and I've done all right. I gave you a job', a steady check, which is more than anybody else has done. And what do I get back? Shit. I've tried to teach you the business -- the care, the finesse... Jason laughs dismissively. (CONTINUED) 16. 22 22 CONTINUED: ALEX Well, look at it this way, Jason, someday you'll have your boat and I'll have my vineyard, and the best part '11 be they're nowhere near each other. JASON (SATISFIED) I'll send you a Christmas card. ALEX Save the stamp. They turn into the driveway to an expensive development. 23 23 EXT. SECURITY BOOTH, CORAL GABLES - DAY The Cadillac rolls to a stop at the ate. A tough, but amicable-looking armed guard in his forties, MIKE, opens the window of the air-conditioned booth. His RADIO is tuned to the FOOTBALL GAME. ALEX Hi, mike -- what's the score? MIKE (CHECKING THE APPOINTMENT BOARD) Dolphins down by nine, minute forty to go. It's over. ALEX Don't underestimate Marino. Mike ticks off the appointment, raises the gate. MIKE I told you, they don't have it this year. With a wave of acknowledgment for Mike, Alex.. drives onto the grounds. ALEX (YELLING BACK) Judas! Grinning, Mike routinely writes down the license plate number. 17. 24 24 EXT. CADILLAC - DAY Alex cruises past a collection of oversized villas, and turns into the driveway of the gaudiest. He and Jason climb out of the car. Alex opens the trunk. He loads two wine cases into Jason's arms, takes the third himself. They haven't said a word to each other. 25 25 EXT. VILLA - DAY Alex rings the intercom with his elbow. Gabriella's VOICE CRACKLES in response. GABRIELLA (V.O.) on the intercom) Who is it? ALEX Wine delivery. The INTERCOM CLICKS off. They hear FOOTSTEPS approaching. The door opens. Jason's eyes focus. He's hooked. Gabriella is smiling at Alex. She has her arms full of clean burp cloths. GABRIELLA Oh, the boss himself! ALEX (with a modest chuckle) How are you? She glances politely toward Jason, not at all expecting what she sees. A circuit connects between them. ALEX Gabriella takes care of Baby Reese. (TO GABRIELLA) This is my stepson, Jason. GABRIELLA (VERY CORRECT) How do you do. JASON Hi. GABRIELLA Is the wine for the boat? Come through the house. 18. 26 26 INT./EXT. VILLA - DAY They follow her inside. Jason takes in the richness of the place, but is more focussed on Gabriella. They exit TO T he lawn which leads to a dock. 27 27 EXT. REESES' BOAT DAY A sleek, ocean-going yacht is tied up at the dock, the crew unobtrusively at work. FRANK REESE, a powerful, confidant man in his mid-sixties, is sitting with his INSURANCE AGENT at a table on deck where policies are spread out next to a jewelry box. Reese's expensive 35- year-old wife DINA has turned her chair to sun her legs while she plays with the BABY. DINA -- what's the point of having it, if I can't wear it, Frank? AGENT (DEFERENTIALLY) You can wear it anywhere you like, Mrs. Reese -- except out of the country. Gabriella leads Alex and Jason aboard. Frank likes Alex and is glad to see him. Alex can't help glancing at Dina's long legs.. She smiles. FRANK Alex, should we insure the wine while we're at it? His arms tired,'Alex is happy to set down the case. ALEX Aren't you covered on your home policy? GABRIELLA (TO JASON) I'll show you, come on. AGENT How much wine are we talking about? Jason follows Gabriella down below, the VOICES on the deck fading. DINA (O.S.) Why bother insuring it? Let's drink it instead. 19. 28 28 INT. BOAT - DAY It's quiet inside, not tasteful but impressive, like everything else of the Reeses. Jason takes a stab at conversation. JASON Big boat. Gabriella laughs and looks over her shoulder at him. They're both kids. GABRIELLA ugly, isn't it. He grins and relaxes, looks around. JASON The fittings are definitely -- yeah on the ugly side. But damn, she's solid. GABRIELLA Oh, a boat type. JASON (proud, defensive) I like.boats. Gabriella shows him the climatized, built-in wine closet next to the galley. He starts to rack the bottles while she watches. He talks to stop her from leaving. JASON So where you headed? GABRIELLA I'm not going, 'I can't go. JASON They don't want to take the baby. GABRIELLA I don't have a green card, I can't leave the country. Baby goes with an American nurse. I house-sit. It's fine. JASON You don't like them. Gabriella laughs. (CONTINUED) 20. 28 28 CONTINUED: GABRIELLA God. I'm obvious. I just don't like working for people, but that's life. He chafes under authority the same way she does. JASON Doesn't have to be. GABRIELLA Maybe not with a rich stepfather. He laughs. JASON Worst kind. GABRIELLA (CORRECTIVELY) No. (A BEAT) You don't appreciate what you have, Jason. It's very poor where I came from. JASON Where's that? GABRIELLA Venezuela. Do I look it? JASON I don't know, I never been there. GABRIELLA Well, I don't. My mother's Indian. The India kind of Indian. (LAUGHS) Imagine a house where the father asks 'What's for dinner' in Spanish, and the mother answers 'Curry' in Hindi. 'Que hay para cenar' she says, 'Murgee, masala, ghaal.' He says, 'No es importante.' No wonder I'm nuts. JASON You don't seem too nuts. She laughs. GABRIELLA You don't know mel (OOR1TINUED ) 21. 28 CONTINUED: .( 2) 28 They're suddenly both very aware that they're alone together. 29 29 EXT. BOAT, THE DECK - DAY The agent is putting a magnificent diamond necklace in a velvet pouch that he fastidiously cinches and ties. Alex looks away from it to take a bottle out of the remaining case on deck. AGENT -- so back to the safe it goes -- Dina lifts up the baby and smells its bottom. FRANK Dina, that's disgusting. DINA The alternative is using your fingers, Frank. which offends you more? Alex laughs. Frank pushes back his chair. FRANK Don't encourage her, Alex. Her mouth is big enough. Dina is hurt. FRANK (to the agent) I'll show you that painting in our stateroom. The agent follows him away. ALEX (kindly; to Dina) Do you want to see the label? She hides her hurt by not looking at him. DINA Just open the bottle, Alex. Pour us both a glass. I'm not allowed to drink alone. When she turns her head and looks at him, she's flirting. 22. 30 30 INT. BOAT - DAY Jason has almost finished storing the wine. Gabriella is sitting on a bar stool at the galley,. listening to him, snared by the quiet passion in his voice. JASON -- when you're skimming along the water, nothing between you and the bottom of the sea but a layer of wood, your thoughts... end. All that noise inside your head? Gabriella nods, understanding exactly. JASON . . . Stops. Dina's VOICE booms over the INTERCOM, startling both of them. The BABY is FUSSING. Gabriella makes a gesture of apology to Jason. DINA (V.O.) Gabriella? Are you down there? GABRIELLA Yes, Mrs. Reese. DINA (V.0.) The baby needs you. And bring a pacifier for Frank. GABRIELLA Right there. She slides off the stool. JASON You should come out with me sometime. She smiles without answering and goes topside. His eyes follow her. A Deckhand comes down the ladder with the remaining case of wine for him to stock. 31 EXT. BOAT - DAY 31 Gabriella. lifts the fussy baby from Dina, her hands sure and calming. She coos nonsense to his little ear as she- reaches for the diaper bag and slings it over her arm. GABRIELLA He.'s ready for his nap. (CONTINUED) 23. 31 31 CONTINUED: Frank and the agent return from another section of the boat. FRANK You doing up to the house, Gabriella? (off her nod) Want to take this with you? He sweeps the policies into a large manila envelope, drops the 'pouch in with them, ties the string, hands it to her. FRANK Put it on my desk. He looks at his wife with her glass, Alex with his glass, and doesn't like it. His voice hardens slightly. FRANK Are we all set, Alex? ALEX I'm going to check the storage room, see what else'll travel. I know I put some vintage Armagnac in there, maybe some Porto? He heads down the gangplank. FRANK He's a vendor, Dina. It's like drinking with the help. DINA (DISARMING HIM) Did you pick the wine, sweetie? It's lovely. Frank grins, pleased. His hand curves around her shoulder. He has forgotten about the other vendor present, the agent. AGENT (AWKWARDLY) So I'll messenger over the rider for your signature -- Frank laughs out loud, in a better mood: FRANK -- You still here? Dina laughs, too. 24. 32 32 INT. VILLA, UPSTAIRS - DAY Gabriella settles the baby on his side, the only Reese she likes. She starts to close the shutters. Lullaby MUSIC is playing on the baby's TAPE DECK. IN THE HALLWAY She closes the nursery door as softly as possible. A man's hands go around her throat. Her gasp dies stillborn. It's Alex, kissing her.ear, holding Dina's diamond necklace to her neck. ALEX (MURMURING) Did he ever come on to you? GABRIELLA (ANGRY) Don't sneak up on me that way! ALEX Look how beautiful you are. He's an idiot if he didn't. Now she sees the necklace. GABRIELLA What are you doing? She snatches the necklace away from him and fairly runs down the hall to Frank's study. IN THE STUDY She tries td stuff it in the pouch. Alex is right behind her. GABRIELLA You're going to get me fired and deported. ALEX Just put it on for a minute. Look at yourself. She slaps at his hands half-heartedly, but it's so tempting. ALEX See what you deserve. GABRIELLA (SUCCUMBING) We're both crazy. (CONTINUED) 25. 32 32 CONTINUED: Alex moves her hair away. She lets him hook the necklace around her neck. He reaches over to open the closet door, fitted out now as a file cabinet, but with the original closet mirror still in place. The safe is visible. Gabriella stares at her reflection, Alex behind her, watching her. The necklace changes her posture. She angles her chin slightly, twists back her hair. Diamonds suit her. GABRIELLA (TITILLATED) It's vulgar. ALEX into her ear) Not against your skin. He starts to pleat her T-shirt loose from her jeans. She doesn't resist. They watch each other

lifetime

How many times the word 'lifetime' appears in the text?

Blood and Wine Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS BLOOD AND WINE Written by Nick Villiers SECOND DRAFT DECEMBER 12, 1994 FADE IN: A PAIR OF HANDS men's hands, nicely groomed, hold a small white terry towel spoiled by blood-red spots. The hands rinse the towel in a copper bar sink. The stains soften but stay. A tan jacket sleeve, spotted the same way, moves INTO FRAM. The hands dab the wet towel at the spots, with no more success, and throw it into the sink. It falls half in, still dripping the stains a drop at a time to the floor. ALL IN CLOSEUP The owner of the hands walks to a wine rack, opens a bottle of white wine, drizzles the wine on the jacket sleeve. The stains disappear. He hangs his jacket on a hook and walks from THE CELLAR and up the narrow stairs. His FOOTFALLS ECHO against the unadorned cement block walls. We see his shape, mid- forties, powerful, his shirt pulled out. He's carrying the open bottle by the neck. 2 INT. WINE STORE - NIGHT Still seen from behind, the man emerges from the cellar into a contrastingly elegant space with a wood-beamed. ceiling, vaguely European. He walks along a narrow aisle of wooden diamond bins. As the space widens his foot hits something in his path. He bends to find a shoe. He glances about nervously. There are shutters on the storefront windows. Shoe in hand, he tightens the shutters. We see his profile, a good-looking man. He walks toward a brighter room at the back of the store, the Tasting Room. Now he retrieves a pair of women's trousers from the floor, and as he straightens up we see his entire face, genial, venial, redeemed by his smile. ALEX GATES. He speaks nonchalantly toward the room. ALEX Twenty people tonight. I got a South Beach widow, a plastic surgeon -- they actually came together. (A BEAT) These people -- all they really want is something to brag about at dinner parties. He swigs from the bottle of white wine, grimaces, detours behind the counter, and spits the mouthful into the plastic lined wastebasket. He throws the bottle away. (CONTINUED) 2. 2 2 CONTINUED: There's a basket of baguettes on the counter. Alex breaks off an end and chews it to rid his mouth of the taste of the wine. Still chewing, he walks toward the tasting room. ALEX There I was, passing the wine, passing the bread, I suddenly felt like the priest at Masst Or maybe Mass started out as a wine tasting, and Jesus was a salesman. what do you think? He goes into THE TASTING ROOM It seems empty except for a large wooden table, folding chairs in disarray, open bottles clustered at one end of the table. A chalkboard on the wall has CHATEAU BEYCHEVELLE written across it at the top, vintages listed underneath. The woman's voice that replies is Gabriella's. GABRIELLA (0.S.) (with a throaty laugh) Maybe I should get dressed. Leaning against the corner is a woman wearing only her panties and a shirt. In her mid-twenties she has striking South American looks. GABRIELLA VASQUEZ. She's sipping red wine from a plastic glass. GABRIETM I don't want to spoil a religious experience. ALEX -- Ever heard of Georges Duboeuf? He throws away some of the glasses. ALEX Duboeuf has a nose and a palate -- like a gift from God. He can taste a single grape before the harvest... and describe the beaujolais it's going to produce. She laughs. GABRIELLA Oh, you have competition. (CONTINUED) 3. 2 2 CONTINUED: (2) ALEX (SLIGHTLY ANNOYED) You know how many bottles I have in this store? Open any one of 'em, I'll tell you the vintage and vintner, b lindfolded. He bends down to pick up the chunks of baguette strewn on the floor. He doesn't see her slip off her panties. She walks behind him, twirling them into a tight band. She whips them over his eyes. He laughs. GABRIELLA Okay. Show me. ALEX Victoria's Secret 95. She passes her glass under his nose. ALEX Gabriella, I picked these wines. GABRIELLA So what is it? ALEX All I can smell is your perfume. She laughs. GABRIELLA I'm not wearing any. ALEX I even bought it for you. She opens her shirt. She's not wearing a bra. She lowers her breast to the glass and then to his mouth. GABRIELLA Tell me now. He kisses her wet breast. ALEX (WITHOUT HESITATION) Beychevelle '83. Lot of body. Very aggressive. He pulls off the panty blindfold, kisses her on the mouth softly, then fully. (CONTINUED) 4. 2 2 CONTINUED: (3) GABRIELLA (LOW) -- I lo e y u, Alex. V O 3 3 INT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT (LATER) Alex is unlocking the door for Gabriella. Dressed, she looks younger. They're awkward with each other. GABRIELLA Don't think you have to say it because .1 say it, Alex. (SMILING BRIGHTLY) Doesn't mean anything.. ALEX It means something to me. GABRIELLA (EASED) We're good together, aren't we. Alex lets out a breath. ALEX Oh, yeah... We're pretty good. He kisses her goodbye, unlocks the door. She goes out to her Honda Civic. Alex doesn't wait to see her drive off before he heads back to finish cleaning up the tasting room. 4 4 INT. TASTING ROOM - NIGHT Alex straightens the last chair and starts to extract air from the open bottles. He hears a quiet CLANK of METAL. Instantly alert, he reaches for his jacket and turns off the-light. 5 5 INT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT Behind the cash register Alex opens a drawer and takes out a revolver. ze thumbs the safety off. The NOISES RECUR, like someone trying to break in through the back door from the parking lot. Alex slings his jacket casually over the gun. 5. 6 6 EXT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT Alex throws open the back door; he's counting on the element of surprise. HIS POV His red Cadillac convertible is idling nose.to the chain locked across the parking lot. A MAN in his twenties, whose tropical shirt fairly glows under the security lights, is using a pair of bolt cutters on the chain. ALEX (ADVANCING) You think you're gonna steal my car, asshole? The younger man whirls around. YOUNG MAN You scared me, man. A middle-aged man, a REPO MAN, calls out lazily from behind the wheel. REPO MAN This is not your car, sir. This car belongs to the Star Leasing Company. Alex buries the gun in the rear of his waistband as though he's rubbing his stiff back and cranks his smile to a higher wattage than the security lights. REPO MAN I can collect either the money or the car. Given how much you owe, I figure it's the car. The younger man has almost hacked through the chain. ALEX Pop the. trunk. REPO MAN We inventory the property at the yard. He keeps his eye on the chain, ready to gun the engine as soon as the exit is clear. ALEX I just want to show you something. Worked by the combination of natural curiosity and Alex's charm; the repo man pops the trunk and gets out of the still-running car. (CONTINUED) 6. 6 6 CONTINUED: In his hand he has the locking "Club" Alex usually uses to secure his. steering wheel. He's not stupid. Amused, Alex takes a step back, palms up. YOUNG MAN What are you doing? The repo man ignores him and looks in the trunk. ALEX Do you drink? REPO MAN Not on the job. What is this, booze? ALEX Two cases of single malt whiskey aged in the barrel before he was born. REPO MAN The Caddy's overdue. ALEX So are you. Drink it with the kid. Teach him what smooth is. Enjoy yourselves. Isn't that worth a few days' breather... (A BEAT) My accountant's a fuck-up. So am I, maybe, for not firing him. The bolt cutters clip through. The chain falls. YOUNG MAN We're clear. 7 7 INT. CADILLAC - NIGHT Alex is driving fast, top down, Samba MUSIC loud on the STEREO. He keeps time on the wheel as the Miami skyline cruises by. EXT. CADILLAC - NIGHT Alex turns into the garage of an expensive condominium building before the gate has slid all the way open. The TIRES SQUEAL as he powers the car around the corner. (CONTINUED) 7. 8 8 CONTINUED: A DUCATI MOTORCYCLE hogs his space. Alex lays the car in tightly. He has to squeeze out the door. He bumps the Ducati. It starts to topple; he grabs it before it goes over. 9 9 INT. CONDO - NIGHT Alex lets himself in. The entry ALARM starts to BEEP. He turns it off and resets it. The light has been left on in the kitchen. 10 10 INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT JASON, a handsome, troubled 17-year-old with long, dark hair, is filing barbs off a pile of fishing hooks on the center island. He looks harder and wiser than his years. Tackle is strewn everywhere. Some spaghetti remains in the pot it was cooked in and Jason's knife is standing upright in it. Alex walks into the kitchen. He makes an effort to be pleasant, although he's irritated by the mess, by the motorcycle. ALEX It's late, Jason. JASON I'm going out tonight. Alex exhales. ALEX You can't'fish all night and work all day. JASON Working for you doesn't exactly tax my mind. ALEX No wonder you drop bottles. JASON Fire me. ALEX Do you do it on purpose? JASON Fishing bought me my bike. (CONTINUED) 8. 10 10 CONTINUED: ALEX I almost knocked it over trying to get out of the car. JASON (SARCASTIC) I wasn't sure you were coming home. SEVERS The TOASTER OVEN DINGS. Jason takes out a muffin, it in two with his fishing knife. ALEX Use a regular knife. JASON This has a better edge. Feel it (pointing it at Alex, BLADE FLAT) -- feel it. Their voices are rising. ALEX Pointed, it's a fucking weapon. Put it away. JASON Hell with you. Jason exits to the stairs. ALEX And keep your voice down. Your mother's asleep. STAIRS JASON If you got home on time once in a while, maybe she could skip the chemical help. Alex is also on the stairs. ALEX You have no idea, none, zip, what goes on in a marriage. JASON Yeah, well, I'm learning more than I want to. (CONTINUED)' 9. 10 10 CONTINUED: (2) LANDING UPSTAIRS SUZANNE (O .S=.. ) Now what are you arguing about? SUZANNE is a pretty young woman in her late thirties with a sense of humor and irony. She's chemically relaxed, but not stupefied. She pulls a robe around herself, modest in front of her son; and although her body's not spectacular, like Gabriella's, she has a trim. athletic build. JASON It's not an argument. ALEX I asked him to clean up downstairs. SUZANNE (SOOTHING ALEX) Maybe he hadn't finished- ALEX A modicum of cooperation, you know? JASON A modicum. What's that. Modicum my ass. He pushes past his mother toward his own room. Suzanne follows him down the hallway, leaving. Alex behind. SUZANNE I don't like that tone from: you. JASON Then go to bed. ALEX Hey! JASON (RIGHT BACK) What! SUZANNE It's too late for this. ALEX Jason has gone into his room. He slams the door. CHOOSES enters his bedroom. Suzanne, alone for a-moment, to enter Jason's room. 10. 11 11 INT. JASON'S ROOM SUZANNE He's my husband. JASON (SOFTLY) I know, Mom. SUZANNE -- I still love him. JASON Whatever. She walks out. 12 12 INT. BATHROOM - NIGHT Alex stands under water as hot as he can stand, parboiling himself. Eyes squeezed shut, he lets out a long breath. His life demands more energy than he has anymore. He soaps himself thoroughly. 13 13 INT. MASTER BEDROOM - NIGHT Suzanne hears the front DOOR SLAM. Jason's DUCATI STARTS UP and ACCELERATES away. Alex comes out of the bathroom in a towel. SUZANNE (FONDLY) Lie down, I'll give you a back rub. She stumbles slightly against the bed, catches a bed post for balance, flops back on the bed with a laugh. SUZANNE -- maybe I'd better lie down. He bends down to kiss her, then heads for the television. Suzanne props herself up on her elbows. He pops a cassette into the VCR: porno, she assumes. She does her best. SUZANNE I liked the twin nurses. There was kind of a story. Alex brings the remote control back to bed. ALEX You'll like this one better. (CONTINUED) 11. 13 13 CONTINUED: He hangs his towel on a doorknob, slides into bed, starts the tape, which begins with sweat-slick dancing girls at Carnival. To Suzanne's astonishment, it turns out to be a travelog. SUZANNE Rio? ALEX I've been so busy. We could sneak away for a week.. Would you like that? SUZANNE If we really go. Last time I packed, we went nowhere. ALEX (SLEEPILY) Last time was different. SUZANNE (watching the tape) The beaches -- I thought we had a beach. I read how the hotels keep spotters on the roof with scopes, to keep thieves away from the guests. They can look at every inch of your body through the scope. (with a low laugh) Do you mind that I like that? Alex? He has fallen asleep. Tenderly she draws the sheet to his shoulder and settles down to watch the rest of the tape. DISSOLVE TO: 14 EXT. BOAT - DAWN 14 On the flying bridge of an old fishing boat, Jason eases the throttle to idle speed. The engine quiets down. The SWELLS SLAP harder against the wooden sides. The boat dips and dances to the music of the water. Jason swings down the ladder. He sets up his linis to troll. The starry dome of the sky is starting to brighten around its rim. Jason leans on the transom and stares at the flat, silvery wedge of wake. He breathes out a word. JASON :. Bite... (CONTINUED) 12. 14 14 CONTINUED: Nothing happens. He doesn't move. Then the top of one of the rods shivers slightly, goes still. Jason delicately fingers the rod like a blind man reading Braille, to feel for vibration. A smile pulls at his mouth. He steps behind the rod. The fish hits. JASON (CALLING OUT) Henryl Fish ont The line screams out. Jason's ready. He sets the hook. JASON Time to go to work, man! C'mon. A tall, black drifter appears from-below, still yawning, scratching. HENRY, 33. He wears a red Panama hat that's weathered his head for some time. HENRY Who we got? JASON Let's find out. He hauls back on the rod, the line rises from the ocean, they both recognize the fish at the end. HENRY Fucking sharks. Miami's fished out of the good stuff. Damn. He spits over the side. Jason grins. JASON This one's got more to worry about than you do. He starts to reel in the fish. Henry moves to the wheel.- HENRY Just shoot 'Jaws' in the water. I want to know the sucker's good and dead 'fore he sets a fin in my boat. You got a barb on that hook? . JASON Oh, yeah. Jason braces for the fight. 13. 15 15 EXT. DOCK - MORNING Jason and Henry are cutting the shark with the speed and dexterity of professionals. HENRY The Gulf, man, that's the place. And what makes you think fifty-fifty is right? My boat. My gas. JASON My skill. (slicing off the fins) ... My fins. 16 16 EXT. FISH MARKET - LONG SHOT - MORNING Jason and Henry slap their catch onto the Fishmonger's slippery counter. The market's noisy, men shouting. We see the negotiation from a distance. 17 EXT. DOCK - DAY (MINUTES LATE) 17 Jason and Henry walk through the hubbub. HENRY You cool? JASON I'm cool. HENRY We cool. Jason guns his Ducati. 18 INT. WINE STORE - DAY 18 Alex comes out of his office. ALEX Rob, has Jason shown up? A man's French-accented VOICE answers him from the store. ROBERT (O.S.) Not yet. ALEX You have his paycheck there? ROBERT All ready. (CONTINUED) 14. 18 18 CONTINUED: Alex takes it, and rips it up. 19 19 INT. CHINESE RESTAURANT - DAY The Chinese CHEF in the busy, steamy kitchen is inspecting the shark fins Jason has brought him. Jason is anxious to finish business and go. CHEF You no like my company? Fine. Who cares. Bring me more fin, you retire. You no want to retire? Good. Don't charge starving Chinese so much for these things. JASON You ever caught a shark? CHEF (BIGGER) You ever cook one? JASON Lemme -- lemme show you something. Jason pulls up the sleeve of his denim jacket to display a fresh gash across his arm. JASON He was already gaffed onto the side of the boat, good as dead. Two hours dead! And I was still too close to the mouth. Revenge is the last instinct to go, did you know that? The chef shrugs and shows his thumb, missing a joint. CHEF -- Work's a dangerous thing. (smiling with lots of TEETH) Nice fin, Jason. He tosses the fins in a cauldron of boiling water, slaps the CASH REGISTER on the side. It RINGS. 20 20 EXT. RESTAURANT - DAY Jason jams on his helmet and starts his. motorcycle, guns it down the street. (CONTINUED) 15. 20 20 CONTINUED: MIAMI SKYLINE Jason weaves through traffic, expert enough to take chances that goose the adrenalin. 21 21 EXT. WINE SHOP - DAY Robert and Alex are loading cases of wine into the trunk of the Caddy when Jason skids into the parking lot. He takes off his helmet. ALEX Just get in the car. 22 22 INT. CADILLAC - DAY (TRAVELING) Jason has fallen asleep while Alex drives. Alex picks up Jason's hand. Jerking awake, Jason tries to pull away, but his reflexes are sleep-slowed. Alex sniffs Jason's fingers, wrinkles his nose, lets Jason have his hand back. ALEX You stink. JASON I washed. ALEX There's Wash IN Dries in the glove compartment. Jason opens the compartment, finds the packets, opens one, rubs his hands. ALEX ... I'm trying here, Jason -- I really am. When you didn't want to go to college, I took your side, I said fine -- I mean, I -didn't finish college, and I've done all right. I gave you a job', a steady check, which is more than anybody else has done. And what do I get back? Shit. I've tried to teach you the business -- the care, the finesse... Jason laughs dismissively. (CONTINUED) 16. 22 22 CONTINUED: ALEX Well, look at it this way, Jason, someday you'll have your boat and I'll have my vineyard, and the best part '11 be they're nowhere near each other. JASON (SATISFIED) I'll send you a Christmas card. ALEX Save the stamp. They turn into the driveway to an expensive development. 23 23 EXT. SECURITY BOOTH, CORAL GABLES - DAY The Cadillac rolls to a stop at the ate. A tough, but amicable-looking armed guard in his forties, MIKE, opens the window of the air-conditioned booth. His RADIO is tuned to the FOOTBALL GAME. ALEX Hi, mike -- what's the score? MIKE (CHECKING THE APPOINTMENT BOARD) Dolphins down by nine, minute forty to go. It's over. ALEX Don't underestimate Marino. Mike ticks off the appointment, raises the gate. MIKE I told you, they don't have it this year. With a wave of acknowledgment for Mike, Alex.. drives onto the grounds. ALEX (YELLING BACK) Judas! Grinning, Mike routinely writes down the license plate number. 17. 24 24 EXT. CADILLAC - DAY Alex cruises past a collection of oversized villas, and turns into the driveway of the gaudiest. He and Jason climb out of the car. Alex opens the trunk. He loads two wine cases into Jason's arms, takes the third himself. They haven't said a word to each other. 25 25 EXT. VILLA - DAY Alex rings the intercom with his elbow. Gabriella's VOICE CRACKLES in response. GABRIELLA (V.O.) on the intercom) Who is it? ALEX Wine delivery. The INTERCOM CLICKS off. They hear FOOTSTEPS approaching. The door opens. Jason's eyes focus. He's hooked. Gabriella is smiling at Alex. She has her arms full of clean burp cloths. GABRIELLA Oh, the boss himself! ALEX (with a modest chuckle) How are you? She glances politely toward Jason, not at all expecting what she sees. A circuit connects between them. ALEX Gabriella takes care of Baby Reese. (TO GABRIELLA) This is my stepson, Jason. GABRIELLA (VERY CORRECT) How do you do. JASON Hi. GABRIELLA Is the wine for the boat? Come through the house. 18. 26 26 INT./EXT. VILLA - DAY They follow her inside. Jason takes in the richness of the place, but is more focussed on Gabriella. They exit TO T he lawn which leads to a dock. 27 27 EXT. REESES' BOAT DAY A sleek, ocean-going yacht is tied up at the dock, the crew unobtrusively at work. FRANK REESE, a powerful, confidant man in his mid-sixties, is sitting with his INSURANCE AGENT at a table on deck where policies are spread out next to a jewelry box. Reese's expensive 35- year-old wife DINA has turned her chair to sun her legs while she plays with the BABY. DINA -- what's the point of having it, if I can't wear it, Frank? AGENT (DEFERENTIALLY) You can wear it anywhere you like, Mrs. Reese -- except out of the country. Gabriella leads Alex and Jason aboard. Frank likes Alex and is glad to see him. Alex can't help glancing at Dina's long legs.. She smiles. FRANK Alex, should we insure the wine while we're at it? His arms tired,'Alex is happy to set down the case. ALEX Aren't you covered on your home policy? GABRIELLA (TO JASON) I'll show you, come on. AGENT How much wine are we talking about? Jason follows Gabriella down below, the VOICES on the deck fading. DINA (O.S.) Why bother insuring it? Let's drink it instead. 19. 28 28 INT. BOAT - DAY It's quiet inside, not tasteful but impressive, like everything else of the Reeses. Jason takes a stab at conversation. JASON Big boat. Gabriella laughs and looks over her shoulder at him. They're both kids. GABRIELLA ugly, isn't it. He grins and relaxes, looks around. JASON The fittings are definitely -- yeah on the ugly side. But damn, she's solid. GABRIELLA Oh, a boat type. JASON (proud, defensive) I like.boats. Gabriella shows him the climatized, built-in wine closet next to the galley. He starts to rack the bottles while she watches. He talks to stop her from leaving. JASON So where you headed? GABRIELLA I'm not going, 'I can't go. JASON They don't want to take the baby. GABRIELLA I don't have a green card, I can't leave the country. Baby goes with an American nurse. I house-sit. It's fine. JASON You don't like them. Gabriella laughs. (CONTINUED) 20. 28 28 CONTINUED: GABRIELLA God. I'm obvious. I just don't like working for people, but that's life. He chafes under authority the same way she does. JASON Doesn't have to be. GABRIELLA Maybe not with a rich stepfather. He laughs. JASON Worst kind. GABRIELLA (CORRECTIVELY) No. (A BEAT) You don't appreciate what you have, Jason. It's very poor where I came from. JASON Where's that? GABRIELLA Venezuela. Do I look it? JASON I don't know, I never been there. GABRIELLA Well, I don't. My mother's Indian. The India kind of Indian. (LAUGHS) Imagine a house where the father asks 'What's for dinner' in Spanish, and the mother answers 'Curry' in Hindi. 'Que hay para cenar' she says, 'Murgee, masala, ghaal.' He says, 'No es importante.' No wonder I'm nuts. JASON You don't seem too nuts. She laughs. GABRIELLA You don't know mel (OOR1TINUED ) 21. 28 CONTINUED: .( 2) 28 They're suddenly both very aware that they're alone together. 29 29 EXT. BOAT, THE DECK - DAY The agent is putting a magnificent diamond necklace in a velvet pouch that he fastidiously cinches and ties. Alex looks away from it to take a bottle out of the remaining case on deck. AGENT -- so back to the safe it goes -- Dina lifts up the baby and smells its bottom. FRANK Dina, that's disgusting. DINA The alternative is using your fingers, Frank. which offends you more? Alex laughs. Frank pushes back his chair. FRANK Don't encourage her, Alex. Her mouth is big enough. Dina is hurt. FRANK (to the agent) I'll show you that painting in our stateroom. The agent follows him away. ALEX (kindly; to Dina) Do you want to see the label? She hides her hurt by not looking at him. DINA Just open the bottle, Alex. Pour us both a glass. I'm not allowed to drink alone. When she turns her head and looks at him, she's flirting. 22. 30 30 INT. BOAT - DAY Jason has almost finished storing the wine. Gabriella is sitting on a bar stool at the galley,. listening to him, snared by the quiet passion in his voice. JASON -- when you're skimming along the water, nothing between you and the bottom of the sea but a layer of wood, your thoughts... end. All that noise inside your head? Gabriella nods, understanding exactly. JASON . . . Stops. Dina's VOICE booms over the INTERCOM, startling both of them. The BABY is FUSSING. Gabriella makes a gesture of apology to Jason. DINA (V.O.) Gabriella? Are you down there? GABRIELLA Yes, Mrs. Reese. DINA (V.0.) The baby needs you. And bring a pacifier for Frank. GABRIELLA Right there. She slides off the stool. JASON You should come out with me sometime. She smiles without answering and goes topside. His eyes follow her. A Deckhand comes down the ladder with the remaining case of wine for him to stock. 31 EXT. BOAT - DAY 31 Gabriella. lifts the fussy baby from Dina, her hands sure and calming. She coos nonsense to his little ear as she- reaches for the diaper bag and slings it over her arm. GABRIELLA He.'s ready for his nap. (CONTINUED) 23. 31 31 CONTINUED: Frank and the agent return from another section of the boat. FRANK You doing up to the house, Gabriella? (off her nod) Want to take this with you? He sweeps the policies into a large manila envelope, drops the 'pouch in with them, ties the string, hands it to her. FRANK Put it on my desk. He looks at his wife with her glass, Alex with his glass, and doesn't like it. His voice hardens slightly. FRANK Are we all set, Alex? ALEX I'm going to check the storage room, see what else'll travel. I know I put some vintage Armagnac in there, maybe some Porto? He heads down the gangplank. FRANK He's a vendor, Dina. It's like drinking with the help. DINA (DISARMING HIM) Did you pick the wine, sweetie? It's lovely. Frank grins, pleased. His hand curves around her shoulder. He has forgotten about the other vendor present, the agent. AGENT (AWKWARDLY) So I'll messenger over the rider for your signature -- Frank laughs out loud, in a better mood: FRANK -- You still here? Dina laughs, too. 24. 32 32 INT. VILLA, UPSTAIRS - DAY Gabriella settles the baby on his side, the only Reese she likes. She starts to close the shutters. Lullaby MUSIC is playing on the baby's TAPE DECK. IN THE HALLWAY She closes the nursery door as softly as possible. A man's hands go around her throat. Her gasp dies stillborn. It's Alex, kissing her.ear, holding Dina's diamond necklace to her neck. ALEX (MURMURING) Did he ever come on to you? GABRIELLA (ANGRY) Don't sneak up on me that way! ALEX Look how beautiful you are. He's an idiot if he didn't. Now she sees the necklace. GABRIELLA What are you doing? She snatches the necklace away from him and fairly runs down the hall to Frank's study. IN THE STUDY She tries td stuff it in the pouch. Alex is right behind her. GABRIELLA You're going to get me fired and deported. ALEX Just put it on for a minute. Look at yourself. She slaps at his hands half-heartedly, but it's so tempting. ALEX See what you deserve. GABRIELLA (SUCCUMBING) We're both crazy. (CONTINUED) 25. 32 32 CONTINUED: Alex moves her hair away. She lets him hook the necklace around her neck. He reaches over to open the closet door, fitted out now as a file cabinet, but with the original closet mirror still in place. The safe is visible. Gabriella stares at her reflection, Alex behind her, watching her. The necklace changes her posture. She angles her chin slightly, twists back her hair. Diamonds suit her. GABRIELLA (TITILLATED) It's vulgar. ALEX into her ear) Not against your skin. He starts to pleat her T-shirt loose from her jeans. She doesn't resist. They watch each other

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How many times the word 'mind' appears in the text?

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Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS BLOOD AND WINE Written by Nick Villiers SECOND DRAFT DECEMBER 12, 1994 FADE IN: A PAIR OF HANDS men's hands, nicely groomed, hold a small white terry towel spoiled by blood-red spots. The hands rinse the towel in a copper bar sink. The stains soften but stay. A tan jacket sleeve, spotted the same way, moves INTO FRAM. The hands dab the wet towel at the spots, with no more success, and throw it into the sink. It falls half in, still dripping the stains a drop at a time to the floor. ALL IN CLOSEUP The owner of the hands walks to a wine rack, opens a bottle of white wine, drizzles the wine on the jacket sleeve. The stains disappear. He hangs his jacket on a hook and walks from THE CELLAR and up the narrow stairs. His FOOTFALLS ECHO against the unadorned cement block walls. We see his shape, mid- forties, powerful, his shirt pulled out. He's carrying the open bottle by the neck. 2 INT. WINE STORE - NIGHT Still seen from behind, the man emerges from the cellar into a contrastingly elegant space with a wood-beamed. ceiling, vaguely European. He walks along a narrow aisle of wooden diamond bins. As the space widens his foot hits something in his path. He bends to find a shoe. He glances about nervously. There are shutters on the storefront windows. Shoe in hand, he tightens the shutters. We see his profile, a good-looking man. He walks toward a brighter room at the back of the store, the Tasting Room. Now he retrieves a pair of women's trousers from the floor, and as he straightens up we see his entire face, genial, venial, redeemed by his smile. ALEX GATES. He speaks nonchalantly toward the room. ALEX Twenty people tonight. I got a South Beach widow, a plastic surgeon -- they actually came together. (A BEAT) These people -- all they really want is something to brag about at dinner parties. He swigs from the bottle of white wine, grimaces, detours behind the counter, and spits the mouthful into the plastic lined wastebasket. He throws the bottle away. (CONTINUED) 2. 2 2 CONTINUED: There's a basket of baguettes on the counter. Alex breaks off an end and chews it to rid his mouth of the taste of the wine. Still chewing, he walks toward the tasting room. ALEX There I was, passing the wine, passing the bread, I suddenly felt like the priest at Masst Or maybe Mass started out as a wine tasting, and Jesus was a salesman. what do you think? He goes into THE TASTING ROOM It seems empty except for a large wooden table, folding chairs in disarray, open bottles clustered at one end of the table. A chalkboard on the wall has CHATEAU BEYCHEVELLE written across it at the top, vintages listed underneath. The woman's voice that replies is Gabriella's. GABRIELLA (0.S.) (with a throaty laugh) Maybe I should get dressed. Leaning against the corner is a woman wearing only her panties and a shirt. In her mid-twenties she has striking South American looks. GABRIELLA VASQUEZ. She's sipping red wine from a plastic glass. GABRIETM I don't want to spoil a religious experience. ALEX -- Ever heard of Georges Duboeuf? He throws away some of the glasses. ALEX Duboeuf has a nose and a palate -- like a gift from God. He can taste a single grape before the harvest... and describe the beaujolais it's going to produce. She laughs. GABRIELLA Oh, you have competition. (CONTINUED) 3. 2 2 CONTINUED: (2) ALEX (SLIGHTLY ANNOYED) You know how many bottles I have in this store? Open any one of 'em, I'll tell you the vintage and vintner, b lindfolded. He bends down to pick up the chunks of baguette strewn on the floor. He doesn't see her slip off her panties. She walks behind him, twirling them into a tight band. She whips them over his eyes. He laughs. GABRIELLA Okay. Show me. ALEX Victoria's Secret 95. She passes her glass under his nose. ALEX Gabriella, I picked these wines. GABRIELLA So what is it? ALEX All I can smell is your perfume. She laughs. GABRIELLA I'm not wearing any. ALEX I even bought it for you. She opens her shirt. She's not wearing a bra. She lowers her breast to the glass and then to his mouth. GABRIELLA Tell me now. He kisses her wet breast. ALEX (WITHOUT HESITATION) Beychevelle '83. Lot of body. Very aggressive. He pulls off the panty blindfold, kisses her on the mouth softly, then fully. (CONTINUED) 4. 2 2 CONTINUED: (3) GABRIELLA (LOW) -- I lo e y u, Alex. V O 3 3 INT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT (LATER) Alex is unlocking the door for Gabriella. Dressed, she looks younger. They're awkward with each other. GABRIELLA Don't think you have to say it because .1 say it, Alex. (SMILING BRIGHTLY) Doesn't mean anything.. ALEX It means something to me. GABRIELLA (EASED) We're good together, aren't we. Alex lets out a breath. ALEX Oh, yeah... We're pretty good. He kisses her goodbye, unlocks the door. She goes out to her Honda Civic. Alex doesn't wait to see her drive off before he heads back to finish cleaning up the tasting room. 4 4 INT. TASTING ROOM - NIGHT Alex straightens the last chair and starts to extract air from the open bottles. He hears a quiet CLANK of METAL. Instantly alert, he reaches for his jacket and turns off the-light. 5 5 INT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT Behind the cash register Alex opens a drawer and takes out a revolver. ze thumbs the safety off. The NOISES RECUR, like someone trying to break in through the back door from the parking lot. Alex slings his jacket casually over the gun. 5. 6 6 EXT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT Alex throws open the back door; he's counting on the element of surprise. HIS POV His red Cadillac convertible is idling nose.to the chain locked across the parking lot. A MAN in his twenties, whose tropical shirt fairly glows under the security lights, is using a pair of bolt cutters on the chain. ALEX (ADVANCING) You think you're gonna steal my car, asshole? The younger man whirls around. YOUNG MAN You scared me, man. A middle-aged man, a REPO MAN, calls out lazily from behind the wheel. REPO MAN This is not your car, sir. This car belongs to the Star Leasing Company. Alex buries the gun in the rear of his waistband as though he's rubbing his stiff back and cranks his smile to a higher wattage than the security lights. REPO MAN I can collect either the money or the car. Given how much you owe, I figure it's the car. The younger man has almost hacked through the chain. ALEX Pop the. trunk. REPO MAN We inventory the property at the yard. He keeps his eye on the chain, ready to gun the engine as soon as the exit is clear. ALEX I just want to show you something. Worked by the combination of natural curiosity and Alex's charm; the repo man pops the trunk and gets out of the still-running car. (CONTINUED) 6. 6 6 CONTINUED: In his hand he has the locking "Club" Alex usually uses to secure his. steering wheel. He's not stupid. Amused, Alex takes a step back, palms up. YOUNG MAN What are you doing? The repo man ignores him and looks in the trunk. ALEX Do you drink? REPO MAN Not on the job. What is this, booze? ALEX Two cases of single malt whiskey aged in the barrel before he was born. REPO MAN The Caddy's overdue. ALEX So are you. Drink it with the kid. Teach him what smooth is. Enjoy yourselves. Isn't that worth a few days' breather... (A BEAT) My accountant's a fuck-up. So am I, maybe, for not firing him. The bolt cutters clip through. The chain falls. YOUNG MAN We're clear. 7 7 INT. CADILLAC - NIGHT Alex is driving fast, top down, Samba MUSIC loud on the STEREO. He keeps time on the wheel as the Miami skyline cruises by. EXT. CADILLAC - NIGHT Alex turns into the garage of an expensive condominium building before the gate has slid all the way open. The TIRES SQUEAL as he powers the car around the corner. (CONTINUED) 7. 8 8 CONTINUED: A DUCATI MOTORCYCLE hogs his space. Alex lays the car in tightly. He has to squeeze out the door. He bumps the Ducati. It starts to topple; he grabs it before it goes over. 9 9 INT. CONDO - NIGHT Alex lets himself in. The entry ALARM starts to BEEP. He turns it off and resets it. The light has been left on in the kitchen. 10 10 INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT JASON, a handsome, troubled 17-year-old with long, dark hair, is filing barbs off a pile of fishing hooks on the center island. He looks harder and wiser than his years. Tackle is strewn everywhere. Some spaghetti remains in the pot it was cooked in and Jason's knife is standing upright in it. Alex walks into the kitchen. He makes an effort to be pleasant, although he's irritated by the mess, by the motorcycle. ALEX It's late, Jason. JASON I'm going out tonight. Alex exhales. ALEX You can't'fish all night and work all day. JASON Working for you doesn't exactly tax my mind. ALEX No wonder you drop bottles. JASON Fire me. ALEX Do you do it on purpose? JASON Fishing bought me my bike. (CONTINUED) 8. 10 10 CONTINUED: ALEX I almost knocked it over trying to get out of the car. JASON (SARCASTIC) I wasn't sure you were coming home. SEVERS The TOASTER OVEN DINGS. Jason takes out a muffin, it in two with his fishing knife. ALEX Use a regular knife. JASON This has a better edge. Feel it (pointing it at Alex, BLADE FLAT) -- feel it. Their voices are rising. ALEX Pointed, it's a fucking weapon. Put it away. JASON Hell with you. Jason exits to the stairs. ALEX And keep your voice down. Your mother's asleep. STAIRS JASON If you got home on time once in a while, maybe she could skip the chemical help. Alex is also on the stairs. ALEX You have no idea, none, zip, what goes on in a marriage. JASON Yeah, well, I'm learning more than I want to. (CONTINUED)' 9. 10 10 CONTINUED: (2) LANDING UPSTAIRS SUZANNE (O .S=.. ) Now what are you arguing about? SUZANNE is a pretty young woman in her late thirties with a sense of humor and irony. She's chemically relaxed, but not stupefied. She pulls a robe around herself, modest in front of her son; and although her body's not spectacular, like Gabriella's, she has a trim. athletic build. JASON It's not an argument. ALEX I asked him to clean up downstairs. SUZANNE (SOOTHING ALEX) Maybe he hadn't finished- ALEX A modicum of cooperation, you know? JASON A modicum. What's that. Modicum my ass. He pushes past his mother toward his own room. Suzanne follows him down the hallway, leaving. Alex behind. SUZANNE I don't like that tone from: you. JASON Then go to bed. ALEX Hey! JASON (RIGHT BACK) What! SUZANNE It's too late for this. ALEX Jason has gone into his room. He slams the door. CHOOSES enters his bedroom. Suzanne, alone for a-moment, to enter Jason's room. 10. 11 11 INT. JASON'S ROOM SUZANNE He's my husband. JASON (SOFTLY) I know, Mom. SUZANNE -- I still love him. JASON Whatever. She walks out. 12 12 INT. BATHROOM - NIGHT Alex stands under water as hot as he can stand, parboiling himself. Eyes squeezed shut, he lets out a long breath. His life demands more energy than he has anymore. He soaps himself thoroughly. 13 13 INT. MASTER BEDROOM - NIGHT Suzanne hears the front DOOR SLAM. Jason's DUCATI STARTS UP and ACCELERATES away. Alex comes out of the bathroom in a towel. SUZANNE (FONDLY) Lie down, I'll give you a back rub. She stumbles slightly against the bed, catches a bed post for balance, flops back on the bed with a laugh. SUZANNE -- maybe I'd better lie down. He bends down to kiss her, then heads for the television. Suzanne props herself up on her elbows. He pops a cassette into the VCR: porno, she assumes. She does her best. SUZANNE I liked the twin nurses. There was kind of a story. Alex brings the remote control back to bed. ALEX You'll like this one better. (CONTINUED) 11. 13 13 CONTINUED: He hangs his towel on a doorknob, slides into bed, starts the tape, which begins with sweat-slick dancing girls at Carnival. To Suzanne's astonishment, it turns out to be a travelog. SUZANNE Rio? ALEX I've been so busy. We could sneak away for a week.. Would you like that? SUZANNE If we really go. Last time I packed, we went nowhere. ALEX (SLEEPILY) Last time was different. SUZANNE (watching the tape) The beaches -- I thought we had a beach. I read how the hotels keep spotters on the roof with scopes, to keep thieves away from the guests. They can look at every inch of your body through the scope. (with a low laugh) Do you mind that I like that? Alex? He has fallen asleep. Tenderly she draws the sheet to his shoulder and settles down to watch the rest of the tape. DISSOLVE TO: 14 EXT. BOAT - DAWN 14 On the flying bridge of an old fishing boat, Jason eases the throttle to idle speed. The engine quiets down. The SWELLS SLAP harder against the wooden sides. The boat dips and dances to the music of the water. Jason swings down the ladder. He sets up his linis to troll. The starry dome of the sky is starting to brighten around its rim. Jason leans on the transom and stares at the flat, silvery wedge of wake. He breathes out a word. JASON :. Bite... (CONTINUED) 12. 14 14 CONTINUED: Nothing happens. He doesn't move. Then the top of one of the rods shivers slightly, goes still. Jason delicately fingers the rod like a blind man reading Braille, to feel for vibration. A smile pulls at his mouth. He steps behind the rod. The fish hits. JASON (CALLING OUT) Henryl Fish ont The line screams out. Jason's ready. He sets the hook. JASON Time to go to work, man! C'mon. A tall, black drifter appears from-below, still yawning, scratching. HENRY, 33. He wears a red Panama hat that's weathered his head for some time. HENRY Who we got? JASON Let's find out. He hauls back on the rod, the line rises from the ocean, they both recognize the fish at the end. HENRY Fucking sharks. Miami's fished out of the good stuff. Damn. He spits over the side. Jason grins. JASON This one's got more to worry about than you do. He starts to reel in the fish. Henry moves to the wheel.- HENRY Just shoot 'Jaws' in the water. I want to know the sucker's good and dead 'fore he sets a fin in my boat. You got a barb on that hook? . JASON Oh, yeah. Jason braces for the fight. 13. 15 15 EXT. DOCK - MORNING Jason and Henry are cutting the shark with the speed and dexterity of professionals. HENRY The Gulf, man, that's the place. And what makes you think fifty-fifty is right? My boat. My gas. JASON My skill. (slicing off the fins) ... My fins. 16 16 EXT. FISH MARKET - LONG SHOT - MORNING Jason and Henry slap their catch onto the Fishmonger's slippery counter. The market's noisy, men shouting. We see the negotiation from a distance. 17 EXT. DOCK - DAY (MINUTES LATE) 17 Jason and Henry walk through the hubbub. HENRY You cool? JASON I'm cool. HENRY We cool. Jason guns his Ducati. 18 INT. WINE STORE - DAY 18 Alex comes out of his office. ALEX Rob, has Jason shown up? A man's French-accented VOICE answers him from the store. ROBERT (O.S.) Not yet. ALEX You have his paycheck there? ROBERT All ready. (CONTINUED) 14. 18 18 CONTINUED: Alex takes it, and rips it up. 19 19 INT. CHINESE RESTAURANT - DAY The Chinese CHEF in the busy, steamy kitchen is inspecting the shark fins Jason has brought him. Jason is anxious to finish business and go. CHEF You no like my company? Fine. Who cares. Bring me more fin, you retire. You no want to retire? Good. Don't charge starving Chinese so much for these things. JASON You ever caught a shark? CHEF (BIGGER) You ever cook one? JASON Lemme -- lemme show you something. Jason pulls up the sleeve of his denim jacket to display a fresh gash across his arm. JASON He was already gaffed onto the side of the boat, good as dead. Two hours dead! And I was still too close to the mouth. Revenge is the last instinct to go, did you know that? The chef shrugs and shows his thumb, missing a joint. CHEF -- Work's a dangerous thing. (smiling with lots of TEETH) Nice fin, Jason. He tosses the fins in a cauldron of boiling water, slaps the CASH REGISTER on the side. It RINGS. 20 20 EXT. RESTAURANT - DAY Jason jams on his helmet and starts his. motorcycle, guns it down the street. (CONTINUED) 15. 20 20 CONTINUED: MIAMI SKYLINE Jason weaves through traffic, expert enough to take chances that goose the adrenalin. 21 21 EXT. WINE SHOP - DAY Robert and Alex are loading cases of wine into the trunk of the Caddy when Jason skids into the parking lot. He takes off his helmet. ALEX Just get in the car. 22 22 INT. CADILLAC - DAY (TRAVELING) Jason has fallen asleep while Alex drives. Alex picks up Jason's hand. Jerking awake, Jason tries to pull away, but his reflexes are sleep-slowed. Alex sniffs Jason's fingers, wrinkles his nose, lets Jason have his hand back. ALEX You stink. JASON I washed. ALEX There's Wash IN Dries in the glove compartment. Jason opens the compartment, finds the packets, opens one, rubs his hands. ALEX ... I'm trying here, Jason -- I really am. When you didn't want to go to college, I took your side, I said fine -- I mean, I -didn't finish college, and I've done all right. I gave you a job', a steady check, which is more than anybody else has done. And what do I get back? Shit. I've tried to teach you the business -- the care, the finesse... Jason laughs dismissively. (CONTINUED) 16. 22 22 CONTINUED: ALEX Well, look at it this way, Jason, someday you'll have your boat and I'll have my vineyard, and the best part '11 be they're nowhere near each other. JASON (SATISFIED) I'll send you a Christmas card. ALEX Save the stamp. They turn into the driveway to an expensive development. 23 23 EXT. SECURITY BOOTH, CORAL GABLES - DAY The Cadillac rolls to a stop at the ate. A tough, but amicable-looking armed guard in his forties, MIKE, opens the window of the air-conditioned booth. His RADIO is tuned to the FOOTBALL GAME. ALEX Hi, mike -- what's the score? MIKE (CHECKING THE APPOINTMENT BOARD) Dolphins down by nine, minute forty to go. It's over. ALEX Don't underestimate Marino. Mike ticks off the appointment, raises the gate. MIKE I told you, they don't have it this year. With a wave of acknowledgment for Mike, Alex.. drives onto the grounds. ALEX (YELLING BACK) Judas! Grinning, Mike routinely writes down the license plate number. 17. 24 24 EXT. CADILLAC - DAY Alex cruises past a collection of oversized villas, and turns into the driveway of the gaudiest. He and Jason climb out of the car. Alex opens the trunk. He loads two wine cases into Jason's arms, takes the third himself. They haven't said a word to each other. 25 25 EXT. VILLA - DAY Alex rings the intercom with his elbow. Gabriella's VOICE CRACKLES in response. GABRIELLA (V.O.) on the intercom) Who is it? ALEX Wine delivery. The INTERCOM CLICKS off. They hear FOOTSTEPS approaching. The door opens. Jason's eyes focus. He's hooked. Gabriella is smiling at Alex. She has her arms full of clean burp cloths. GABRIELLA Oh, the boss himself! ALEX (with a modest chuckle) How are you? She glances politely toward Jason, not at all expecting what she sees. A circuit connects between them. ALEX Gabriella takes care of Baby Reese. (TO GABRIELLA) This is my stepson, Jason. GABRIELLA (VERY CORRECT) How do you do. JASON Hi. GABRIELLA Is the wine for the boat? Come through the house. 18. 26 26 INT./EXT. VILLA - DAY They follow her inside. Jason takes in the richness of the place, but is more focussed on Gabriella. They exit TO T he lawn which leads to a dock. 27 27 EXT. REESES' BOAT DAY A sleek, ocean-going yacht is tied up at the dock, the crew unobtrusively at work. FRANK REESE, a powerful, confidant man in his mid-sixties, is sitting with his INSURANCE AGENT at a table on deck where policies are spread out next to a jewelry box. Reese's expensive 35- year-old wife DINA has turned her chair to sun her legs while she plays with the BABY. DINA -- what's the point of having it, if I can't wear it, Frank? AGENT (DEFERENTIALLY) You can wear it anywhere you like, Mrs. Reese -- except out of the country. Gabriella leads Alex and Jason aboard. Frank likes Alex and is glad to see him. Alex can't help glancing at Dina's long legs.. She smiles. FRANK Alex, should we insure the wine while we're at it? His arms tired,'Alex is happy to set down the case. ALEX Aren't you covered on your home policy? GABRIELLA (TO JASON) I'll show you, come on. AGENT How much wine are we talking about? Jason follows Gabriella down below, the VOICES on the deck fading. DINA (O.S.) Why bother insuring it? Let's drink it instead. 19. 28 28 INT. BOAT - DAY It's quiet inside, not tasteful but impressive, like everything else of the Reeses. Jason takes a stab at conversation. JASON Big boat. Gabriella laughs and looks over her shoulder at him. They're both kids. GABRIELLA ugly, isn't it. He grins and relaxes, looks around. JASON The fittings are definitely -- yeah on the ugly side. But damn, she's solid. GABRIELLA Oh, a boat type. JASON (proud, defensive) I like.boats. Gabriella shows him the climatized, built-in wine closet next to the galley. He starts to rack the bottles while she watches. He talks to stop her from leaving. JASON So where you headed? GABRIELLA I'm not going, 'I can't go. JASON They don't want to take the baby. GABRIELLA I don't have a green card, I can't leave the country. Baby goes with an American nurse. I house-sit. It's fine. JASON You don't like them. Gabriella laughs. (CONTINUED) 20. 28 28 CONTINUED: GABRIELLA God. I'm obvious. I just don't like working for people, but that's life. He chafes under authority the same way she does. JASON Doesn't have to be. GABRIELLA Maybe not with a rich stepfather. He laughs. JASON Worst kind. GABRIELLA (CORRECTIVELY) No. (A BEAT) You don't appreciate what you have, Jason. It's very poor where I came from. JASON Where's that? GABRIELLA Venezuela. Do I look it? JASON I don't know, I never been there. GABRIELLA Well, I don't. My mother's Indian. The India kind of Indian. (LAUGHS) Imagine a house where the father asks 'What's for dinner' in Spanish, and the mother answers 'Curry' in Hindi. 'Que hay para cenar' she says, 'Murgee, masala, ghaal.' He says, 'No es importante.' No wonder I'm nuts. JASON You don't seem too nuts. She laughs. GABRIELLA You don't know mel (OOR1TINUED ) 21. 28 CONTINUED: .( 2) 28 They're suddenly both very aware that they're alone together. 29 29 EXT. BOAT, THE DECK - DAY The agent is putting a magnificent diamond necklace in a velvet pouch that he fastidiously cinches and ties. Alex looks away from it to take a bottle out of the remaining case on deck. AGENT -- so back to the safe it goes -- Dina lifts up the baby and smells its bottom. FRANK Dina, that's disgusting. DINA The alternative is using your fingers, Frank. which offends you more? Alex laughs. Frank pushes back his chair. FRANK Don't encourage her, Alex. Her mouth is big enough. Dina is hurt. FRANK (to the agent) I'll show you that painting in our stateroom. The agent follows him away. ALEX (kindly; to Dina) Do you want to see the label? She hides her hurt by not looking at him. DINA Just open the bottle, Alex. Pour us both a glass. I'm not allowed to drink alone. When she turns her head and looks at him, she's flirting. 22. 30 30 INT. BOAT - DAY Jason has almost finished storing the wine. Gabriella is sitting on a bar stool at the galley,. listening to him, snared by the quiet passion in his voice. JASON -- when you're skimming along the water, nothing between you and the bottom of the sea but a layer of wood, your thoughts... end. All that noise inside your head? Gabriella nods, understanding exactly. JASON . . . Stops. Dina's VOICE booms over the INTERCOM, startling both of them. The BABY is FUSSING. Gabriella makes a gesture of apology to Jason. DINA (V.O.) Gabriella? Are you down there? GABRIELLA Yes, Mrs. Reese. DINA (V.0.) The baby needs you. And bring a pacifier for Frank. GABRIELLA Right there. She slides off the stool. JASON You should come out with me sometime. She smiles without answering and goes topside. His eyes follow her. A Deckhand comes down the ladder with the remaining case of wine for him to stock. 31 EXT. BOAT - DAY 31 Gabriella. lifts the fussy baby from Dina, her hands sure and calming. She coos nonsense to his little ear as she- reaches for the diaper bag and slings it over her arm. GABRIELLA He.'s ready for his nap. (CONTINUED) 23. 31 31 CONTINUED: Frank and the agent return from another section of the boat. FRANK You doing up to the house, Gabriella? (off her nod) Want to take this with you? He sweeps the policies into a large manila envelope, drops the 'pouch in with them, ties the string, hands it to her. FRANK Put it on my desk. He looks at his wife with her glass, Alex with his glass, and doesn't like it. His voice hardens slightly. FRANK Are we all set, Alex? ALEX I'm going to check the storage room, see what else'll travel. I know I put some vintage Armagnac in there, maybe some Porto? He heads down the gangplank. FRANK He's a vendor, Dina. It's like drinking with the help. DINA (DISARMING HIM) Did you pick the wine, sweetie? It's lovely. Frank grins, pleased. His hand curves around her shoulder. He has forgotten about the other vendor present, the agent. AGENT (AWKWARDLY) So I'll messenger over the rider for your signature -- Frank laughs out loud, in a better mood: FRANK -- You still here? Dina laughs, too. 24. 32 32 INT. VILLA, UPSTAIRS - DAY Gabriella settles the baby on his side, the only Reese she likes. She starts to close the shutters. Lullaby MUSIC is playing on the baby's TAPE DECK. IN THE HALLWAY She closes the nursery door as softly as possible. A man's hands go around her throat. Her gasp dies stillborn. It's Alex, kissing her.ear, holding Dina's diamond necklace to her neck. ALEX (MURMURING) Did he ever come on to you? GABRIELLA (ANGRY) Don't sneak up on me that way! ALEX Look how beautiful you are. He's an idiot if he didn't. Now she sees the necklace. GABRIELLA What are you doing? She snatches the necklace away from him and fairly runs down the hall to Frank's study. IN THE STUDY She tries td stuff it in the pouch. Alex is right behind her. GABRIELLA You're going to get me fired and deported. ALEX Just put it on for a minute. Look at yourself. She slaps at his hands half-heartedly, but it's so tempting. ALEX See what you deserve. GABRIELLA (SUCCUMBING) We're both crazy. (CONTINUED) 25. 32 32 CONTINUED: Alex moves her hair away. She lets him hook the necklace around her neck. He reaches over to open the closet door, fitted out now as a file cabinet, but with the original closet mirror still in place. The safe is visible. Gabriella stares at her reflection, Alex behind her, watching her. The necklace changes her posture. She angles her chin slightly, twists back her hair. Diamonds suit her. GABRIELLA (TITILLATED) It's vulgar. ALEX into her ear) Not against your skin. He starts to pleat her T-shirt loose from her jeans. She doesn't resist. They watch each other

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Blood and Wine Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS BLOOD AND WINE Written by Nick Villiers SECOND DRAFT DECEMBER 12, 1994 FADE IN: A PAIR OF HANDS men's hands, nicely groomed, hold a small white terry towel spoiled by blood-red spots. The hands rinse the towel in a copper bar sink. The stains soften but stay. A tan jacket sleeve, spotted the same way, moves INTO FRAM. The hands dab the wet towel at the spots, with no more success, and throw it into the sink. It falls half in, still dripping the stains a drop at a time to the floor. ALL IN CLOSEUP The owner of the hands walks to a wine rack, opens a bottle of white wine, drizzles the wine on the jacket sleeve. The stains disappear. He hangs his jacket on a hook and walks from THE CELLAR and up the narrow stairs. His FOOTFALLS ECHO against the unadorned cement block walls. We see his shape, mid- forties, powerful, his shirt pulled out. He's carrying the open bottle by the neck. 2 INT. WINE STORE - NIGHT Still seen from behind, the man emerges from the cellar into a contrastingly elegant space with a wood-beamed. ceiling, vaguely European. He walks along a narrow aisle of wooden diamond bins. As the space widens his foot hits something in his path. He bends to find a shoe. He glances about nervously. There are shutters on the storefront windows. Shoe in hand, he tightens the shutters. We see his profile, a good-looking man. He walks toward a brighter room at the back of the store, the Tasting Room. Now he retrieves a pair of women's trousers from the floor, and as he straightens up we see his entire face, genial, venial, redeemed by his smile. ALEX GATES. He speaks nonchalantly toward the room. ALEX Twenty people tonight. I got a South Beach widow, a plastic surgeon -- they actually came together. (A BEAT) These people -- all they really want is something to brag about at dinner parties. He swigs from the bottle of white wine, grimaces, detours behind the counter, and spits the mouthful into the plastic lined wastebasket. He throws the bottle away. (CONTINUED) 2. 2 2 CONTINUED: There's a basket of baguettes on the counter. Alex breaks off an end and chews it to rid his mouth of the taste of the wine. Still chewing, he walks toward the tasting room. ALEX There I was, passing the wine, passing the bread, I suddenly felt like the priest at Masst Or maybe Mass started out as a wine tasting, and Jesus was a salesman. what do you think? He goes into THE TASTING ROOM It seems empty except for a large wooden table, folding chairs in disarray, open bottles clustered at one end of the table. A chalkboard on the wall has CHATEAU BEYCHEVELLE written across it at the top, vintages listed underneath. The woman's voice that replies is Gabriella's. GABRIELLA (0.S.) (with a throaty laugh) Maybe I should get dressed. Leaning against the corner is a woman wearing only her panties and a shirt. In her mid-twenties she has striking South American looks. GABRIELLA VASQUEZ. She's sipping red wine from a plastic glass. GABRIETM I don't want to spoil a religious experience. ALEX -- Ever heard of Georges Duboeuf? He throws away some of the glasses. ALEX Duboeuf has a nose and a palate -- like a gift from God. He can taste a single grape before the harvest... and describe the beaujolais it's going to produce. She laughs. GABRIELLA Oh, you have competition. (CONTINUED) 3. 2 2 CONTINUED: (2) ALEX (SLIGHTLY ANNOYED) You know how many bottles I have in this store? Open any one of 'em, I'll tell you the vintage and vintner, b lindfolded. He bends down to pick up the chunks of baguette strewn on the floor. He doesn't see her slip off her panties. She walks behind him, twirling them into a tight band. She whips them over his eyes. He laughs. GABRIELLA Okay. Show me. ALEX Victoria's Secret 95. She passes her glass under his nose. ALEX Gabriella, I picked these wines. GABRIELLA So what is it? ALEX All I can smell is your perfume. She laughs. GABRIELLA I'm not wearing any. ALEX I even bought it for you. She opens her shirt. She's not wearing a bra. She lowers her breast to the glass and then to his mouth. GABRIELLA Tell me now. He kisses her wet breast. ALEX (WITHOUT HESITATION) Beychevelle '83. Lot of body. Very aggressive. He pulls off the panty blindfold, kisses her on the mouth softly, then fully. (CONTINUED) 4. 2 2 CONTINUED: (3) GABRIELLA (LOW) -- I lo e y u, Alex. V O 3 3 INT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT (LATER) Alex is unlocking the door for Gabriella. Dressed, she looks younger. They're awkward with each other. GABRIELLA Don't think you have to say it because .1 say it, Alex. (SMILING BRIGHTLY) Doesn't mean anything.. ALEX It means something to me. GABRIELLA (EASED) We're good together, aren't we. Alex lets out a breath. ALEX Oh, yeah... We're pretty good. He kisses her goodbye, unlocks the door. She goes out to her Honda Civic. Alex doesn't wait to see her drive off before he heads back to finish cleaning up the tasting room. 4 4 INT. TASTING ROOM - NIGHT Alex straightens the last chair and starts to extract air from the open bottles. He hears a quiet CLANK of METAL. Instantly alert, he reaches for his jacket and turns off the-light. 5 5 INT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT Behind the cash register Alex opens a drawer and takes out a revolver. ze thumbs the safety off. The NOISES RECUR, like someone trying to break in through the back door from the parking lot. Alex slings his jacket casually over the gun. 5. 6 6 EXT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT Alex throws open the back door; he's counting on the element of surprise. HIS POV His red Cadillac convertible is idling nose.to the chain locked across the parking lot. A MAN in his twenties, whose tropical shirt fairly glows under the security lights, is using a pair of bolt cutters on the chain. ALEX (ADVANCING) You think you're gonna steal my car, asshole? The younger man whirls around. YOUNG MAN You scared me, man. A middle-aged man, a REPO MAN, calls out lazily from behind the wheel. REPO MAN This is not your car, sir. This car belongs to the Star Leasing Company. Alex buries the gun in the rear of his waistband as though he's rubbing his stiff back and cranks his smile to a higher wattage than the security lights. REPO MAN I can collect either the money or the car. Given how much you owe, I figure it's the car. The younger man has almost hacked through the chain. ALEX Pop the. trunk. REPO MAN We inventory the property at the yard. He keeps his eye on the chain, ready to gun the engine as soon as the exit is clear. ALEX I just want to show you something. Worked by the combination of natural curiosity and Alex's charm; the repo man pops the trunk and gets out of the still-running car. (CONTINUED) 6. 6 6 CONTINUED: In his hand he has the locking "Club" Alex usually uses to secure his. steering wheel. He's not stupid. Amused, Alex takes a step back, palms up. YOUNG MAN What are you doing? The repo man ignores him and looks in the trunk. ALEX Do you drink? REPO MAN Not on the job. What is this, booze? ALEX Two cases of single malt whiskey aged in the barrel before he was born. REPO MAN The Caddy's overdue. ALEX So are you. Drink it with the kid. Teach him what smooth is. Enjoy yourselves. Isn't that worth a few days' breather... (A BEAT) My accountant's a fuck-up. So am I, maybe, for not firing him. The bolt cutters clip through. The chain falls. YOUNG MAN We're clear. 7 7 INT. CADILLAC - NIGHT Alex is driving fast, top down, Samba MUSIC loud on the STEREO. He keeps time on the wheel as the Miami skyline cruises by. EXT. CADILLAC - NIGHT Alex turns into the garage of an expensive condominium building before the gate has slid all the way open. The TIRES SQUEAL as he powers the car around the corner. (CONTINUED) 7. 8 8 CONTINUED: A DUCATI MOTORCYCLE hogs his space. Alex lays the car in tightly. He has to squeeze out the door. He bumps the Ducati. It starts to topple; he grabs it before it goes over. 9 9 INT. CONDO - NIGHT Alex lets himself in. The entry ALARM starts to BEEP. He turns it off and resets it. The light has been left on in the kitchen. 10 10 INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT JASON, a handsome, troubled 17-year-old with long, dark hair, is filing barbs off a pile of fishing hooks on the center island. He looks harder and wiser than his years. Tackle is strewn everywhere. Some spaghetti remains in the pot it was cooked in and Jason's knife is standing upright in it. Alex walks into the kitchen. He makes an effort to be pleasant, although he's irritated by the mess, by the motorcycle. ALEX It's late, Jason. JASON I'm going out tonight. Alex exhales. ALEX You can't'fish all night and work all day. JASON Working for you doesn't exactly tax my mind. ALEX No wonder you drop bottles. JASON Fire me. ALEX Do you do it on purpose? JASON Fishing bought me my bike. (CONTINUED) 8. 10 10 CONTINUED: ALEX I almost knocked it over trying to get out of the car. JASON (SARCASTIC) I wasn't sure you were coming home. SEVERS The TOASTER OVEN DINGS. Jason takes out a muffin, it in two with his fishing knife. ALEX Use a regular knife. JASON This has a better edge. Feel it (pointing it at Alex, BLADE FLAT) -- feel it. Their voices are rising. ALEX Pointed, it's a fucking weapon. Put it away. JASON Hell with you. Jason exits to the stairs. ALEX And keep your voice down. Your mother's asleep. STAIRS JASON If you got home on time once in a while, maybe she could skip the chemical help. Alex is also on the stairs. ALEX You have no idea, none, zip, what goes on in a marriage. JASON Yeah, well, I'm learning more than I want to. (CONTINUED)' 9. 10 10 CONTINUED: (2) LANDING UPSTAIRS SUZANNE (O .S=.. ) Now what are you arguing about? SUZANNE is a pretty young woman in her late thirties with a sense of humor and irony. She's chemically relaxed, but not stupefied. She pulls a robe around herself, modest in front of her son; and although her body's not spectacular, like Gabriella's, she has a trim. athletic build. JASON It's not an argument. ALEX I asked him to clean up downstairs. SUZANNE (SOOTHING ALEX) Maybe he hadn't finished- ALEX A modicum of cooperation, you know? JASON A modicum. What's that. Modicum my ass. He pushes past his mother toward his own room. Suzanne follows him down the hallway, leaving. Alex behind. SUZANNE I don't like that tone from: you. JASON Then go to bed. ALEX Hey! JASON (RIGHT BACK) What! SUZANNE It's too late for this. ALEX Jason has gone into his room. He slams the door. CHOOSES enters his bedroom. Suzanne, alone for a-moment, to enter Jason's room. 10. 11 11 INT. JASON'S ROOM SUZANNE He's my husband. JASON (SOFTLY) I know, Mom. SUZANNE -- I still love him. JASON Whatever. She walks out. 12 12 INT. BATHROOM - NIGHT Alex stands under water as hot as he can stand, parboiling himself. Eyes squeezed shut, he lets out a long breath. His life demands more energy than he has anymore. He soaps himself thoroughly. 13 13 INT. MASTER BEDROOM - NIGHT Suzanne hears the front DOOR SLAM. Jason's DUCATI STARTS UP and ACCELERATES away. Alex comes out of the bathroom in a towel. SUZANNE (FONDLY) Lie down, I'll give you a back rub. She stumbles slightly against the bed, catches a bed post for balance, flops back on the bed with a laugh. SUZANNE -- maybe I'd better lie down. He bends down to kiss her, then heads for the television. Suzanne props herself up on her elbows. He pops a cassette into the VCR: porno, she assumes. She does her best. SUZANNE I liked the twin nurses. There was kind of a story. Alex brings the remote control back to bed. ALEX You'll like this one better. (CONTINUED) 11. 13 13 CONTINUED: He hangs his towel on a doorknob, slides into bed, starts the tape, which begins with sweat-slick dancing girls at Carnival. To Suzanne's astonishment, it turns out to be a travelog. SUZANNE Rio? ALEX I've been so busy. We could sneak away for a week.. Would you like that? SUZANNE If we really go. Last time I packed, we went nowhere. ALEX (SLEEPILY) Last time was different. SUZANNE (watching the tape) The beaches -- I thought we had a beach. I read how the hotels keep spotters on the roof with scopes, to keep thieves away from the guests. They can look at every inch of your body through the scope. (with a low laugh) Do you mind that I like that? Alex? He has fallen asleep. Tenderly she draws the sheet to his shoulder and settles down to watch the rest of the tape. DISSOLVE TO: 14 EXT. BOAT - DAWN 14 On the flying bridge of an old fishing boat, Jason eases the throttle to idle speed. The engine quiets down. The SWELLS SLAP harder against the wooden sides. The boat dips and dances to the music of the water. Jason swings down the ladder. He sets up his linis to troll. The starry dome of the sky is starting to brighten around its rim. Jason leans on the transom and stares at the flat, silvery wedge of wake. He breathes out a word. JASON :. Bite... (CONTINUED) 12. 14 14 CONTINUED: Nothing happens. He doesn't move. Then the top of one of the rods shivers slightly, goes still. Jason delicately fingers the rod like a blind man reading Braille, to feel for vibration. A smile pulls at his mouth. He steps behind the rod. The fish hits. JASON (CALLING OUT) Henryl Fish ont The line screams out. Jason's ready. He sets the hook. JASON Time to go to work, man! C'mon. A tall, black drifter appears from-below, still yawning, scratching. HENRY, 33. He wears a red Panama hat that's weathered his head for some time. HENRY Who we got? JASON Let's find out. He hauls back on the rod, the line rises from the ocean, they both recognize the fish at the end. HENRY Fucking sharks. Miami's fished out of the good stuff. Damn. He spits over the side. Jason grins. JASON This one's got more to worry about than you do. He starts to reel in the fish. Henry moves to the wheel.- HENRY Just shoot 'Jaws' in the water. I want to know the sucker's good and dead 'fore he sets a fin in my boat. You got a barb on that hook? . JASON Oh, yeah. Jason braces for the fight. 13. 15 15 EXT. DOCK - MORNING Jason and Henry are cutting the shark with the speed and dexterity of professionals. HENRY The Gulf, man, that's the place. And what makes you think fifty-fifty is right? My boat. My gas. JASON My skill. (slicing off the fins) ... My fins. 16 16 EXT. FISH MARKET - LONG SHOT - MORNING Jason and Henry slap their catch onto the Fishmonger's slippery counter. The market's noisy, men shouting. We see the negotiation from a distance. 17 EXT. DOCK - DAY (MINUTES LATE) 17 Jason and Henry walk through the hubbub. HENRY You cool? JASON I'm cool. HENRY We cool. Jason guns his Ducati. 18 INT. WINE STORE - DAY 18 Alex comes out of his office. ALEX Rob, has Jason shown up? A man's French-accented VOICE answers him from the store. ROBERT (O.S.) Not yet. ALEX You have his paycheck there? ROBERT All ready. (CONTINUED) 14. 18 18 CONTINUED: Alex takes it, and rips it up. 19 19 INT. CHINESE RESTAURANT - DAY The Chinese CHEF in the busy, steamy kitchen is inspecting the shark fins Jason has brought him. Jason is anxious to finish business and go. CHEF You no like my company? Fine. Who cares. Bring me more fin, you retire. You no want to retire? Good. Don't charge starving Chinese so much for these things. JASON You ever caught a shark? CHEF (BIGGER) You ever cook one? JASON Lemme -- lemme show you something. Jason pulls up the sleeve of his denim jacket to display a fresh gash across his arm. JASON He was already gaffed onto the side of the boat, good as dead. Two hours dead! And I was still too close to the mouth. Revenge is the last instinct to go, did you know that? The chef shrugs and shows his thumb, missing a joint. CHEF -- Work's a dangerous thing. (smiling with lots of TEETH) Nice fin, Jason. He tosses the fins in a cauldron of boiling water, slaps the CASH REGISTER on the side. It RINGS. 20 20 EXT. RESTAURANT - DAY Jason jams on his helmet and starts his. motorcycle, guns it down the street. (CONTINUED) 15. 20 20 CONTINUED: MIAMI SKYLINE Jason weaves through traffic, expert enough to take chances that goose the adrenalin. 21 21 EXT. WINE SHOP - DAY Robert and Alex are loading cases of wine into the trunk of the Caddy when Jason skids into the parking lot. He takes off his helmet. ALEX Just get in the car. 22 22 INT. CADILLAC - DAY (TRAVELING) Jason has fallen asleep while Alex drives. Alex picks up Jason's hand. Jerking awake, Jason tries to pull away, but his reflexes are sleep-slowed. Alex sniffs Jason's fingers, wrinkles his nose, lets Jason have his hand back. ALEX You stink. JASON I washed. ALEX There's Wash IN Dries in the glove compartment. Jason opens the compartment, finds the packets, opens one, rubs his hands. ALEX ... I'm trying here, Jason -- I really am. When you didn't want to go to college, I took your side, I said fine -- I mean, I -didn't finish college, and I've done all right. I gave you a job', a steady check, which is more than anybody else has done. And what do I get back? Shit. I've tried to teach you the business -- the care, the finesse... Jason laughs dismissively. (CONTINUED) 16. 22 22 CONTINUED: ALEX Well, look at it this way, Jason, someday you'll have your boat and I'll have my vineyard, and the best part '11 be they're nowhere near each other. JASON (SATISFIED) I'll send you a Christmas card. ALEX Save the stamp. They turn into the driveway to an expensive development. 23 23 EXT. SECURITY BOOTH, CORAL GABLES - DAY The Cadillac rolls to a stop at the ate. A tough, but amicable-looking armed guard in his forties, MIKE, opens the window of the air-conditioned booth. His RADIO is tuned to the FOOTBALL GAME. ALEX Hi, mike -- what's the score? MIKE (CHECKING THE APPOINTMENT BOARD) Dolphins down by nine, minute forty to go. It's over. ALEX Don't underestimate Marino. Mike ticks off the appointment, raises the gate. MIKE I told you, they don't have it this year. With a wave of acknowledgment for Mike, Alex.. drives onto the grounds. ALEX (YELLING BACK) Judas! Grinning, Mike routinely writes down the license plate number. 17. 24 24 EXT. CADILLAC - DAY Alex cruises past a collection of oversized villas, and turns into the driveway of the gaudiest. He and Jason climb out of the car. Alex opens the trunk. He loads two wine cases into Jason's arms, takes the third himself. They haven't said a word to each other. 25 25 EXT. VILLA - DAY Alex rings the intercom with his elbow. Gabriella's VOICE CRACKLES in response. GABRIELLA (V.O.) on the intercom) Who is it? ALEX Wine delivery. The INTERCOM CLICKS off. They hear FOOTSTEPS approaching. The door opens. Jason's eyes focus. He's hooked. Gabriella is smiling at Alex. She has her arms full of clean burp cloths. GABRIELLA Oh, the boss himself! ALEX (with a modest chuckle) How are you? She glances politely toward Jason, not at all expecting what she sees. A circuit connects between them. ALEX Gabriella takes care of Baby Reese. (TO GABRIELLA) This is my stepson, Jason. GABRIELLA (VERY CORRECT) How do you do. JASON Hi. GABRIELLA Is the wine for the boat? Come through the house. 18. 26 26 INT./EXT. VILLA - DAY They follow her inside. Jason takes in the richness of the place, but is more focussed on Gabriella. They exit TO T he lawn which leads to a dock. 27 27 EXT. REESES' BOAT DAY A sleek, ocean-going yacht is tied up at the dock, the crew unobtrusively at work. FRANK REESE, a powerful, confidant man in his mid-sixties, is sitting with his INSURANCE AGENT at a table on deck where policies are spread out next to a jewelry box. Reese's expensive 35- year-old wife DINA has turned her chair to sun her legs while she plays with the BABY. DINA -- what's the point of having it, if I can't wear it, Frank? AGENT (DEFERENTIALLY) You can wear it anywhere you like, Mrs. Reese -- except out of the country. Gabriella leads Alex and Jason aboard. Frank likes Alex and is glad to see him. Alex can't help glancing at Dina's long legs.. She smiles. FRANK Alex, should we insure the wine while we're at it? His arms tired,'Alex is happy to set down the case. ALEX Aren't you covered on your home policy? GABRIELLA (TO JASON) I'll show you, come on. AGENT How much wine are we talking about? Jason follows Gabriella down below, the VOICES on the deck fading. DINA (O.S.) Why bother insuring it? Let's drink it instead. 19. 28 28 INT. BOAT - DAY It's quiet inside, not tasteful but impressive, like everything else of the Reeses. Jason takes a stab at conversation. JASON Big boat. Gabriella laughs and looks over her shoulder at him. They're both kids. GABRIELLA ugly, isn't it. He grins and relaxes, looks around. JASON The fittings are definitely -- yeah on the ugly side. But damn, she's solid. GABRIELLA Oh, a boat type. JASON (proud, defensive) I like.boats. Gabriella shows him the climatized, built-in wine closet next to the galley. He starts to rack the bottles while she watches. He talks to stop her from leaving. JASON So where you headed? GABRIELLA I'm not going, 'I can't go. JASON They don't want to take the baby. GABRIELLA I don't have a green card, I can't leave the country. Baby goes with an American nurse. I house-sit. It's fine. JASON You don't like them. Gabriella laughs. (CONTINUED) 20. 28 28 CONTINUED: GABRIELLA God. I'm obvious. I just don't like working for people, but that's life. He chafes under authority the same way she does. JASON Doesn't have to be. GABRIELLA Maybe not with a rich stepfather. He laughs. JASON Worst kind. GABRIELLA (CORRECTIVELY) No. (A BEAT) You don't appreciate what you have, Jason. It's very poor where I came from. JASON Where's that? GABRIELLA Venezuela. Do I look it? JASON I don't know, I never been there. GABRIELLA Well, I don't. My mother's Indian. The India kind of Indian. (LAUGHS) Imagine a house where the father asks 'What's for dinner' in Spanish, and the mother answers 'Curry' in Hindi. 'Que hay para cenar' she says, 'Murgee, masala, ghaal.' He says, 'No es importante.' No wonder I'm nuts. JASON You don't seem too nuts. She laughs. GABRIELLA You don't know mel (OOR1TINUED ) 21. 28 CONTINUED: .( 2) 28 They're suddenly both very aware that they're alone together. 29 29 EXT. BOAT, THE DECK - DAY The agent is putting a magnificent diamond necklace in a velvet pouch that he fastidiously cinches and ties. Alex looks away from it to take a bottle out of the remaining case on deck. AGENT -- so back to the safe it goes -- Dina lifts up the baby and smells its bottom. FRANK Dina, that's disgusting. DINA The alternative is using your fingers, Frank. which offends you more? Alex laughs. Frank pushes back his chair. FRANK Don't encourage her, Alex. Her mouth is big enough. Dina is hurt. FRANK (to the agent) I'll show you that painting in our stateroom. The agent follows him away. ALEX (kindly; to Dina) Do you want to see the label? She hides her hurt by not looking at him. DINA Just open the bottle, Alex. Pour us both a glass. I'm not allowed to drink alone. When she turns her head and looks at him, she's flirting. 22. 30 30 INT. BOAT - DAY Jason has almost finished storing the wine. Gabriella is sitting on a bar stool at the galley,. listening to him, snared by the quiet passion in his voice. JASON -- when you're skimming along the water, nothing between you and the bottom of the sea but a layer of wood, your thoughts... end. All that noise inside your head? Gabriella nods, understanding exactly. JASON . . . Stops. Dina's VOICE booms over the INTERCOM, startling both of them. The BABY is FUSSING. Gabriella makes a gesture of apology to Jason. DINA (V.O.) Gabriella? Are you down there? GABRIELLA Yes, Mrs. Reese. DINA (V.0.) The baby needs you. And bring a pacifier for Frank. GABRIELLA Right there. She slides off the stool. JASON You should come out with me sometime. She smiles without answering and goes topside. His eyes follow her. A Deckhand comes down the ladder with the remaining case of wine for him to stock. 31 EXT. BOAT - DAY 31 Gabriella. lifts the fussy baby from Dina, her hands sure and calming. She coos nonsense to his little ear as she- reaches for the diaper bag and slings it over her arm. GABRIELLA He.'s ready for his nap. (CONTINUED) 23. 31 31 CONTINUED: Frank and the agent return from another section of the boat. FRANK You doing up to the house, Gabriella? (off her nod) Want to take this with you? He sweeps the policies into a large manila envelope, drops the 'pouch in with them, ties the string, hands it to her. FRANK Put it on my desk. He looks at his wife with her glass, Alex with his glass, and doesn't like it. His voice hardens slightly. FRANK Are we all set, Alex? ALEX I'm going to check the storage room, see what else'll travel. I know I put some vintage Armagnac in there, maybe some Porto? He heads down the gangplank. FRANK He's a vendor, Dina. It's like drinking with the help. DINA (DISARMING HIM) Did you pick the wine, sweetie? It's lovely. Frank grins, pleased. His hand curves around her shoulder. He has forgotten about the other vendor present, the agent. AGENT (AWKWARDLY) So I'll messenger over the rider for your signature -- Frank laughs out loud, in a better mood: FRANK -- You still here? Dina laughs, too. 24. 32 32 INT. VILLA, UPSTAIRS - DAY Gabriella settles the baby on his side, the only Reese she likes. She starts to close the shutters. Lullaby MUSIC is playing on the baby's TAPE DECK. IN THE HALLWAY She closes the nursery door as softly as possible. A man's hands go around her throat. Her gasp dies stillborn. It's Alex, kissing her.ear, holding Dina's diamond necklace to her neck. ALEX (MURMURING) Did he ever come on to you? GABRIELLA (ANGRY) Don't sneak up on me that way! ALEX Look how beautiful you are. He's an idiot if he didn't. Now she sees the necklace. GABRIELLA What are you doing? She snatches the necklace away from him and fairly runs down the hall to Frank's study. IN THE STUDY She tries td stuff it in the pouch. Alex is right behind her. GABRIELLA You're going to get me fired and deported. ALEX Just put it on for a minute. Look at yourself. She slaps at his hands half-heartedly, but it's so tempting. ALEX See what you deserve. GABRIELLA (SUCCUMBING) We're both crazy. (CONTINUED) 25. 32 32 CONTINUED: Alex moves her hair away. She lets him hook the necklace around her neck. He reaches over to open the closet door, fitted out now as a file cabinet, but with the original closet mirror still in place. The safe is visible. Gabriella stares at her reflection, Alex behind her, watching her. The necklace changes her posture. She angles her chin slightly, twists back her hair. Diamonds suit her. GABRIELLA (TITILLATED) It's vulgar. ALEX into her ear) Not against your skin. He starts to pleat her T-shirt loose from her jeans. She doesn't resist. They watch each other

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How many times the word 'cement' appears in the text?

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Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS BLOOD AND WINE Written by Nick Villiers SECOND DRAFT DECEMBER 12, 1994 FADE IN: A PAIR OF HANDS men's hands, nicely groomed, hold a small white terry towel spoiled by blood-red spots. The hands rinse the towel in a copper bar sink. The stains soften but stay. A tan jacket sleeve, spotted the same way, moves INTO FRAM. The hands dab the wet towel at the spots, with no more success, and throw it into the sink. It falls half in, still dripping the stains a drop at a time to the floor. ALL IN CLOSEUP The owner of the hands walks to a wine rack, opens a bottle of white wine, drizzles the wine on the jacket sleeve. The stains disappear. He hangs his jacket on a hook and walks from THE CELLAR and up the narrow stairs. His FOOTFALLS ECHO against the unadorned cement block walls. We see his shape, mid- forties, powerful, his shirt pulled out. He's carrying the open bottle by the neck. 2 INT. WINE STORE - NIGHT Still seen from behind, the man emerges from the cellar into a contrastingly elegant space with a wood-beamed. ceiling, vaguely European. He walks along a narrow aisle of wooden diamond bins. As the space widens his foot hits something in his path. He bends to find a shoe. He glances about nervously. There are shutters on the storefront windows. Shoe in hand, he tightens the shutters. We see his profile, a good-looking man. He walks toward a brighter room at the back of the store, the Tasting Room. Now he retrieves a pair of women's trousers from the floor, and as he straightens up we see his entire face, genial, venial, redeemed by his smile. ALEX GATES. He speaks nonchalantly toward the room. ALEX Twenty people tonight. I got a South Beach widow, a plastic surgeon -- they actually came together. (A BEAT) These people -- all they really want is something to brag about at dinner parties. He swigs from the bottle of white wine, grimaces, detours behind the counter, and spits the mouthful into the plastic lined wastebasket. He throws the bottle away. (CONTINUED) 2. 2 2 CONTINUED: There's a basket of baguettes on the counter. Alex breaks off an end and chews it to rid his mouth of the taste of the wine. Still chewing, he walks toward the tasting room. ALEX There I was, passing the wine, passing the bread, I suddenly felt like the priest at Masst Or maybe Mass started out as a wine tasting, and Jesus was a salesman. what do you think? He goes into THE TASTING ROOM It seems empty except for a large wooden table, folding chairs in disarray, open bottles clustered at one end of the table. A chalkboard on the wall has CHATEAU BEYCHEVELLE written across it at the top, vintages listed underneath. The woman's voice that replies is Gabriella's. GABRIELLA (0.S.) (with a throaty laugh) Maybe I should get dressed. Leaning against the corner is a woman wearing only her panties and a shirt. In her mid-twenties she has striking South American looks. GABRIELLA VASQUEZ. She's sipping red wine from a plastic glass. GABRIETM I don't want to spoil a religious experience. ALEX -- Ever heard of Georges Duboeuf? He throws away some of the glasses. ALEX Duboeuf has a nose and a palate -- like a gift from God. He can taste a single grape before the harvest... and describe the beaujolais it's going to produce. She laughs. GABRIELLA Oh, you have competition. (CONTINUED) 3. 2 2 CONTINUED: (2) ALEX (SLIGHTLY ANNOYED) You know how many bottles I have in this store? Open any one of 'em, I'll tell you the vintage and vintner, b lindfolded. He bends down to pick up the chunks of baguette strewn on the floor. He doesn't see her slip off her panties. She walks behind him, twirling them into a tight band. She whips them over his eyes. He laughs. GABRIELLA Okay. Show me. ALEX Victoria's Secret 95. She passes her glass under his nose. ALEX Gabriella, I picked these wines. GABRIELLA So what is it? ALEX All I can smell is your perfume. She laughs. GABRIELLA I'm not wearing any. ALEX I even bought it for you. She opens her shirt. She's not wearing a bra. She lowers her breast to the glass and then to his mouth. GABRIELLA Tell me now. He kisses her wet breast. ALEX (WITHOUT HESITATION) Beychevelle '83. Lot of body. Very aggressive. He pulls off the panty blindfold, kisses her on the mouth softly, then fully. (CONTINUED) 4. 2 2 CONTINUED: (3) GABRIELLA (LOW) -- I lo e y u, Alex. V O 3 3 INT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT (LATER) Alex is unlocking the door for Gabriella. Dressed, she looks younger. They're awkward with each other. GABRIELLA Don't think you have to say it because .1 say it, Alex. (SMILING BRIGHTLY) Doesn't mean anything.. ALEX It means something to me. GABRIELLA (EASED) We're good together, aren't we. Alex lets out a breath. ALEX Oh, yeah... We're pretty good. He kisses her goodbye, unlocks the door. She goes out to her Honda Civic. Alex doesn't wait to see her drive off before he heads back to finish cleaning up the tasting room. 4 4 INT. TASTING ROOM - NIGHT Alex straightens the last chair and starts to extract air from the open bottles. He hears a quiet CLANK of METAL. Instantly alert, he reaches for his jacket and turns off the-light. 5 5 INT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT Behind the cash register Alex opens a drawer and takes out a revolver. ze thumbs the safety off. The NOISES RECUR, like someone trying to break in through the back door from the parking lot. Alex slings his jacket casually over the gun. 5. 6 6 EXT. WINE SHOP - NIGHT Alex throws open the back door; he's counting on the element of surprise. HIS POV His red Cadillac convertible is idling nose.to the chain locked across the parking lot. A MAN in his twenties, whose tropical shirt fairly glows under the security lights, is using a pair of bolt cutters on the chain. ALEX (ADVANCING) You think you're gonna steal my car, asshole? The younger man whirls around. YOUNG MAN You scared me, man. A middle-aged man, a REPO MAN, calls out lazily from behind the wheel. REPO MAN This is not your car, sir. This car belongs to the Star Leasing Company. Alex buries the gun in the rear of his waistband as though he's rubbing his stiff back and cranks his smile to a higher wattage than the security lights. REPO MAN I can collect either the money or the car. Given how much you owe, I figure it's the car. The younger man has almost hacked through the chain. ALEX Pop the. trunk. REPO MAN We inventory the property at the yard. He keeps his eye on the chain, ready to gun the engine as soon as the exit is clear. ALEX I just want to show you something. Worked by the combination of natural curiosity and Alex's charm; the repo man pops the trunk and gets out of the still-running car. (CONTINUED) 6. 6 6 CONTINUED: In his hand he has the locking "Club" Alex usually uses to secure his. steering wheel. He's not stupid. Amused, Alex takes a step back, palms up. YOUNG MAN What are you doing? The repo man ignores him and looks in the trunk. ALEX Do you drink? REPO MAN Not on the job. What is this, booze? ALEX Two cases of single malt whiskey aged in the barrel before he was born. REPO MAN The Caddy's overdue. ALEX So are you. Drink it with the kid. Teach him what smooth is. Enjoy yourselves. Isn't that worth a few days' breather... (A BEAT) My accountant's a fuck-up. So am I, maybe, for not firing him. The bolt cutters clip through. The chain falls. YOUNG MAN We're clear. 7 7 INT. CADILLAC - NIGHT Alex is driving fast, top down, Samba MUSIC loud on the STEREO. He keeps time on the wheel as the Miami skyline cruises by. EXT. CADILLAC - NIGHT Alex turns into the garage of an expensive condominium building before the gate has slid all the way open. The TIRES SQUEAL as he powers the car around the corner. (CONTINUED) 7. 8 8 CONTINUED: A DUCATI MOTORCYCLE hogs his space. Alex lays the car in tightly. He has to squeeze out the door. He bumps the Ducati. It starts to topple; he grabs it before it goes over. 9 9 INT. CONDO - NIGHT Alex lets himself in. The entry ALARM starts to BEEP. He turns it off and resets it. The light has been left on in the kitchen. 10 10 INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT JASON, a handsome, troubled 17-year-old with long, dark hair, is filing barbs off a pile of fishing hooks on the center island. He looks harder and wiser than his years. Tackle is strewn everywhere. Some spaghetti remains in the pot it was cooked in and Jason's knife is standing upright in it. Alex walks into the kitchen. He makes an effort to be pleasant, although he's irritated by the mess, by the motorcycle. ALEX It's late, Jason. JASON I'm going out tonight. Alex exhales. ALEX You can't'fish all night and work all day. JASON Working for you doesn't exactly tax my mind. ALEX No wonder you drop bottles. JASON Fire me. ALEX Do you do it on purpose? JASON Fishing bought me my bike. (CONTINUED) 8. 10 10 CONTINUED: ALEX I almost knocked it over trying to get out of the car. JASON (SARCASTIC) I wasn't sure you were coming home. SEVERS The TOASTER OVEN DINGS. Jason takes out a muffin, it in two with his fishing knife. ALEX Use a regular knife. JASON This has a better edge. Feel it (pointing it at Alex, BLADE FLAT) -- feel it. Their voices are rising. ALEX Pointed, it's a fucking weapon. Put it away. JASON Hell with you. Jason exits to the stairs. ALEX And keep your voice down. Your mother's asleep. STAIRS JASON If you got home on time once in a while, maybe she could skip the chemical help. Alex is also on the stairs. ALEX You have no idea, none, zip, what goes on in a marriage. JASON Yeah, well, I'm learning more than I want to. (CONTINUED)' 9. 10 10 CONTINUED: (2) LANDING UPSTAIRS SUZANNE (O .S=.. ) Now what are you arguing about? SUZANNE is a pretty young woman in her late thirties with a sense of humor and irony. She's chemically relaxed, but not stupefied. She pulls a robe around herself, modest in front of her son; and although her body's not spectacular, like Gabriella's, she has a trim. athletic build. JASON It's not an argument. ALEX I asked him to clean up downstairs. SUZANNE (SOOTHING ALEX) Maybe he hadn't finished- ALEX A modicum of cooperation, you know? JASON A modicum. What's that. Modicum my ass. He pushes past his mother toward his own room. Suzanne follows him down the hallway, leaving. Alex behind. SUZANNE I don't like that tone from: you. JASON Then go to bed. ALEX Hey! JASON (RIGHT BACK) What! SUZANNE It's too late for this. ALEX Jason has gone into his room. He slams the door. CHOOSES enters his bedroom. Suzanne, alone for a-moment, to enter Jason's room. 10. 11 11 INT. JASON'S ROOM SUZANNE He's my husband. JASON (SOFTLY) I know, Mom. SUZANNE -- I still love him. JASON Whatever. She walks out. 12 12 INT. BATHROOM - NIGHT Alex stands under water as hot as he can stand, parboiling himself. Eyes squeezed shut, he lets out a long breath. His life demands more energy than he has anymore. He soaps himself thoroughly. 13 13 INT. MASTER BEDROOM - NIGHT Suzanne hears the front DOOR SLAM. Jason's DUCATI STARTS UP and ACCELERATES away. Alex comes out of the bathroom in a towel. SUZANNE (FONDLY) Lie down, I'll give you a back rub. She stumbles slightly against the bed, catches a bed post for balance, flops back on the bed with a laugh. SUZANNE -- maybe I'd better lie down. He bends down to kiss her, then heads for the television. Suzanne props herself up on her elbows. He pops a cassette into the VCR: porno, she assumes. She does her best. SUZANNE I liked the twin nurses. There was kind of a story. Alex brings the remote control back to bed. ALEX You'll like this one better. (CONTINUED) 11. 13 13 CONTINUED: He hangs his towel on a doorknob, slides into bed, starts the tape, which begins with sweat-slick dancing girls at Carnival. To Suzanne's astonishment, it turns out to be a travelog. SUZANNE Rio? ALEX I've been so busy. We could sneak away for a week.. Would you like that? SUZANNE If we really go. Last time I packed, we went nowhere. ALEX (SLEEPILY) Last time was different. SUZANNE (watching the tape) The beaches -- I thought we had a beach. I read how the hotels keep spotters on the roof with scopes, to keep thieves away from the guests. They can look at every inch of your body through the scope. (with a low laugh) Do you mind that I like that? Alex? He has fallen asleep. Tenderly she draws the sheet to his shoulder and settles down to watch the rest of the tape. DISSOLVE TO: 14 EXT. BOAT - DAWN 14 On the flying bridge of an old fishing boat, Jason eases the throttle to idle speed. The engine quiets down. The SWELLS SLAP harder against the wooden sides. The boat dips and dances to the music of the water. Jason swings down the ladder. He sets up his linis to troll. The starry dome of the sky is starting to brighten around its rim. Jason leans on the transom and stares at the flat, silvery wedge of wake. He breathes out a word. JASON :. Bite... (CONTINUED) 12. 14 14 CONTINUED: Nothing happens. He doesn't move. Then the top of one of the rods shivers slightly, goes still. Jason delicately fingers the rod like a blind man reading Braille, to feel for vibration. A smile pulls at his mouth. He steps behind the rod. The fish hits. JASON (CALLING OUT) Henryl Fish ont The line screams out. Jason's ready. He sets the hook. JASON Time to go to work, man! C'mon. A tall, black drifter appears from-below, still yawning, scratching. HENRY, 33. He wears a red Panama hat that's weathered his head for some time. HENRY Who we got? JASON Let's find out. He hauls back on the rod, the line rises from the ocean, they both recognize the fish at the end. HENRY Fucking sharks. Miami's fished out of the good stuff. Damn. He spits over the side. Jason grins. JASON This one's got more to worry about than you do. He starts to reel in the fish. Henry moves to the wheel.- HENRY Just shoot 'Jaws' in the water. I want to know the sucker's good and dead 'fore he sets a fin in my boat. You got a barb on that hook? . JASON Oh, yeah. Jason braces for the fight. 13. 15 15 EXT. DOCK - MORNING Jason and Henry are cutting the shark with the speed and dexterity of professionals. HENRY The Gulf, man, that's the place. And what makes you think fifty-fifty is right? My boat. My gas. JASON My skill. (slicing off the fins) ... My fins. 16 16 EXT. FISH MARKET - LONG SHOT - MORNING Jason and Henry slap their catch onto the Fishmonger's slippery counter. The market's noisy, men shouting. We see the negotiation from a distance. 17 EXT. DOCK - DAY (MINUTES LATE) 17 Jason and Henry walk through the hubbub. HENRY You cool? JASON I'm cool. HENRY We cool. Jason guns his Ducati. 18 INT. WINE STORE - DAY 18 Alex comes out of his office. ALEX Rob, has Jason shown up? A man's French-accented VOICE answers him from the store. ROBERT (O.S.) Not yet. ALEX You have his paycheck there? ROBERT All ready. (CONTINUED) 14. 18 18 CONTINUED: Alex takes it, and rips it up. 19 19 INT. CHINESE RESTAURANT - DAY The Chinese CHEF in the busy, steamy kitchen is inspecting the shark fins Jason has brought him. Jason is anxious to finish business and go. CHEF You no like my company? Fine. Who cares. Bring me more fin, you retire. You no want to retire? Good. Don't charge starving Chinese so much for these things. JASON You ever caught a shark? CHEF (BIGGER) You ever cook one? JASON Lemme -- lemme show you something. Jason pulls up the sleeve of his denim jacket to display a fresh gash across his arm. JASON He was already gaffed onto the side of the boat, good as dead. Two hours dead! And I was still too close to the mouth. Revenge is the last instinct to go, did you know that? The chef shrugs and shows his thumb, missing a joint. CHEF -- Work's a dangerous thing. (smiling with lots of TEETH) Nice fin, Jason. He tosses the fins in a cauldron of boiling water, slaps the CASH REGISTER on the side. It RINGS. 20 20 EXT. RESTAURANT - DAY Jason jams on his helmet and starts his. motorcycle, guns it down the street. (CONTINUED) 15. 20 20 CONTINUED: MIAMI SKYLINE Jason weaves through traffic, expert enough to take chances that goose the adrenalin. 21 21 EXT. WINE SHOP - DAY Robert and Alex are loading cases of wine into the trunk of the Caddy when Jason skids into the parking lot. He takes off his helmet. ALEX Just get in the car. 22 22 INT. CADILLAC - DAY (TRAVELING) Jason has fallen asleep while Alex drives. Alex picks up Jason's hand. Jerking awake, Jason tries to pull away, but his reflexes are sleep-slowed. Alex sniffs Jason's fingers, wrinkles his nose, lets Jason have his hand back. ALEX You stink. JASON I washed. ALEX There's Wash IN Dries in the glove compartment. Jason opens the compartment, finds the packets, opens one, rubs his hands. ALEX ... I'm trying here, Jason -- I really am. When you didn't want to go to college, I took your side, I said fine -- I mean, I -didn't finish college, and I've done all right. I gave you a job', a steady check, which is more than anybody else has done. And what do I get back? Shit. I've tried to teach you the business -- the care, the finesse... Jason laughs dismissively. (CONTINUED) 16. 22 22 CONTINUED: ALEX Well, look at it this way, Jason, someday you'll have your boat and I'll have my vineyard, and the best part '11 be they're nowhere near each other. JASON (SATISFIED) I'll send you a Christmas card. ALEX Save the stamp. They turn into the driveway to an expensive development. 23 23 EXT. SECURITY BOOTH, CORAL GABLES - DAY The Cadillac rolls to a stop at the ate. A tough, but amicable-looking armed guard in his forties, MIKE, opens the window of the air-conditioned booth. His RADIO is tuned to the FOOTBALL GAME. ALEX Hi, mike -- what's the score? MIKE (CHECKING THE APPOINTMENT BOARD) Dolphins down by nine, minute forty to go. It's over. ALEX Don't underestimate Marino. Mike ticks off the appointment, raises the gate. MIKE I told you, they don't have it this year. With a wave of acknowledgment for Mike, Alex.. drives onto the grounds. ALEX (YELLING BACK) Judas! Grinning, Mike routinely writes down the license plate number. 17. 24 24 EXT. CADILLAC - DAY Alex cruises past a collection of oversized villas, and turns into the driveway of the gaudiest. He and Jason climb out of the car. Alex opens the trunk. He loads two wine cases into Jason's arms, takes the third himself. They haven't said a word to each other. 25 25 EXT. VILLA - DAY Alex rings the intercom with his elbow. Gabriella's VOICE CRACKLES in response. GABRIELLA (V.O.) on the intercom) Who is it? ALEX Wine delivery. The INTERCOM CLICKS off. They hear FOOTSTEPS approaching. The door opens. Jason's eyes focus. He's hooked. Gabriella is smiling at Alex. She has her arms full of clean burp cloths. GABRIELLA Oh, the boss himself! ALEX (with a modest chuckle) How are you? She glances politely toward Jason, not at all expecting what she sees. A circuit connects between them. ALEX Gabriella takes care of Baby Reese. (TO GABRIELLA) This is my stepson, Jason. GABRIELLA (VERY CORRECT) How do you do. JASON Hi. GABRIELLA Is the wine for the boat? Come through the house. 18. 26 26 INT./EXT. VILLA - DAY They follow her inside. Jason takes in the richness of the place, but is more focussed on Gabriella. They exit TO T he lawn which leads to a dock. 27 27 EXT. REESES' BOAT DAY A sleek, ocean-going yacht is tied up at the dock, the crew unobtrusively at work. FRANK REESE, a powerful, confidant man in his mid-sixties, is sitting with his INSURANCE AGENT at a table on deck where policies are spread out next to a jewelry box. Reese's expensive 35- year-old wife DINA has turned her chair to sun her legs while she plays with the BABY. DINA -- what's the point of having it, if I can't wear it, Frank? AGENT (DEFERENTIALLY) You can wear it anywhere you like, Mrs. Reese -- except out of the country. Gabriella leads Alex and Jason aboard. Frank likes Alex and is glad to see him. Alex can't help glancing at Dina's long legs.. She smiles. FRANK Alex, should we insure the wine while we're at it? His arms tired,'Alex is happy to set down the case. ALEX Aren't you covered on your home policy? GABRIELLA (TO JASON) I'll show you, come on. AGENT How much wine are we talking about? Jason follows Gabriella down below, the VOICES on the deck fading. DINA (O.S.) Why bother insuring it? Let's drink it instead. 19. 28 28 INT. BOAT - DAY It's quiet inside, not tasteful but impressive, like everything else of the Reeses. Jason takes a stab at conversation. JASON Big boat. Gabriella laughs and looks over her shoulder at him. They're both kids. GABRIELLA ugly, isn't it. He grins and relaxes, looks around. JASON The fittings are definitely -- yeah on the ugly side. But damn, she's solid. GABRIELLA Oh, a boat type. JASON (proud, defensive) I like.boats. Gabriella shows him the climatized, built-in wine closet next to the galley. He starts to rack the bottles while she watches. He talks to stop her from leaving. JASON So where you headed? GABRIELLA I'm not going, 'I can't go. JASON They don't want to take the baby. GABRIELLA I don't have a green card, I can't leave the country. Baby goes with an American nurse. I house-sit. It's fine. JASON You don't like them. Gabriella laughs. (CONTINUED) 20. 28 28 CONTINUED: GABRIELLA God. I'm obvious. I just don't like working for people, but that's life. He chafes under authority the same way she does. JASON Doesn't have to be. GABRIELLA Maybe not with a rich stepfather. He laughs. JASON Worst kind. GABRIELLA (CORRECTIVELY) No. (A BEAT) You don't appreciate what you have, Jason. It's very poor where I came from. JASON Where's that? GABRIELLA Venezuela. Do I look it? JASON I don't know, I never been there. GABRIELLA Well, I don't. My mother's Indian. The India kind of Indian. (LAUGHS) Imagine a house where the father asks 'What's for dinner' in Spanish, and the mother answers 'Curry' in Hindi. 'Que hay para cenar' she says, 'Murgee, masala, ghaal.' He says, 'No es importante.' No wonder I'm nuts. JASON You don't seem too nuts. She laughs. GABRIELLA You don't know mel (OOR1TINUED ) 21. 28 CONTINUED: .( 2) 28 They're suddenly both very aware that they're alone together. 29 29 EXT. BOAT, THE DECK - DAY The agent is putting a magnificent diamond necklace in a velvet pouch that he fastidiously cinches and ties. Alex looks away from it to take a bottle out of the remaining case on deck. AGENT -- so back to the safe it goes -- Dina lifts up the baby and smells its bottom. FRANK Dina, that's disgusting. DINA The alternative is using your fingers, Frank. which offends you more? Alex laughs. Frank pushes back his chair. FRANK Don't encourage her, Alex. Her mouth is big enough. Dina is hurt. FRANK (to the agent) I'll show you that painting in our stateroom. The agent follows him away. ALEX (kindly; to Dina) Do you want to see the label? She hides her hurt by not looking at him. DINA Just open the bottle, Alex. Pour us both a glass. I'm not allowed to drink alone. When she turns her head and looks at him, she's flirting. 22. 30 30 INT. BOAT - DAY Jason has almost finished storing the wine. Gabriella is sitting on a bar stool at the galley,. listening to him, snared by the quiet passion in his voice. JASON -- when you're skimming along the water, nothing between you and the bottom of the sea but a layer of wood, your thoughts... end. All that noise inside your head? Gabriella nods, understanding exactly. JASON . . . Stops. Dina's VOICE booms over the INTERCOM, startling both of them. The BABY is FUSSING. Gabriella makes a gesture of apology to Jason. DINA (V.O.) Gabriella? Are you down there? GABRIELLA Yes, Mrs. Reese. DINA (V.0.) The baby needs you. And bring a pacifier for Frank. GABRIELLA Right there. She slides off the stool. JASON You should come out with me sometime. She smiles without answering and goes topside. His eyes follow her. A Deckhand comes down the ladder with the remaining case of wine for him to stock. 31 EXT. BOAT - DAY 31 Gabriella. lifts the fussy baby from Dina, her hands sure and calming. She coos nonsense to his little ear as she- reaches for the diaper bag and slings it over her arm. GABRIELLA He.'s ready for his nap. (CONTINUED) 23. 31 31 CONTINUED: Frank and the agent return from another section of the boat. FRANK You doing up to the house, Gabriella? (off her nod) Want to take this with you? He sweeps the policies into a large manila envelope, drops the 'pouch in with them, ties the string, hands it to her. FRANK Put it on my desk. He looks at his wife with her glass, Alex with his glass, and doesn't like it. His voice hardens slightly. FRANK Are we all set, Alex? ALEX I'm going to check the storage room, see what else'll travel. I know I put some vintage Armagnac in there, maybe some Porto? He heads down the gangplank. FRANK He's a vendor, Dina. It's like drinking with the help. DINA (DISARMING HIM) Did you pick the wine, sweetie? It's lovely. Frank grins, pleased. His hand curves around her shoulder. He has forgotten about the other vendor present, the agent. AGENT (AWKWARDLY) So I'll messenger over the rider for your signature -- Frank laughs out loud, in a better mood: FRANK -- You still here? Dina laughs, too. 24. 32 32 INT. VILLA, UPSTAIRS - DAY Gabriella settles the baby on his side, the only Reese she likes. She starts to close the shutters. Lullaby MUSIC is playing on the baby's TAPE DECK. IN THE HALLWAY She closes the nursery door as softly as possible. A man's hands go around her throat. Her gasp dies stillborn. It's Alex, kissing her.ear, holding Dina's diamond necklace to her neck. ALEX (MURMURING) Did he ever come on to you? GABRIELLA (ANGRY) Don't sneak up on me that way! ALEX Look how beautiful you are. He's an idiot if he didn't. Now she sees the necklace. GABRIELLA What are you doing? She snatches the necklace away from him and fairly runs down the hall to Frank's study. IN THE STUDY She tries td stuff it in the pouch. Alex is right behind her. GABRIELLA You're going to get me fired and deported. ALEX Just put it on for a minute. Look at yourself. She slaps at his hands half-heartedly, but it's so tempting. ALEX See what you deserve. GABRIELLA (SUCCUMBING) We're both crazy. (CONTINUED) 25. 32 32 CONTINUED: Alex moves her hair away. She lets him hook the necklace around her neck. He reaches over to open the closet door, fitted out now as a file cabinet, but with the original closet mirror still in place. The safe is visible. Gabriella stares at her reflection, Alex behind her, watching her. The necklace changes her posture. She angles her chin slightly, twists back her hair. Diamonds suit her. GABRIELLA (TITILLATED) It's vulgar. ALEX into her ear) Not against your skin. He starts to pleat her T-shirt loose from her jeans. She doesn't resist. They watch each other

wrinklings

How many times the word 'wrinklings' appears in the text?

Both existed before Christianity; both are of Pagan origin; both were afterwards consecrated to the service of the Church." "Pardon me," interrupted Bateman, "Gregorians were Jewish, not Pagan." "Be it so, for argument sake," said Campbell; "still, at least, they were not of Christian origin. Next, both the old music and the old architecture were inartificial and limited, as methods of exhibiting their respective arts. You can't have a large Grecian temple, you can't have a long Gregorian _Gloria_." "Not a long one!" said Bateman; "why there's poor Willis used to complain how tedious the old Gregorian compositions were abroad." "I don't explain myself," answered Campbell; "of course you may produce them to any length, but merely by addition, not by carrying on the melody. You can put two together, and then have one twice as long as either. But I speak of a musical piece, which must of course be the natural development of certain ideas, with one part depending on another. In like manner, you might make an Ionic temple twice as long or twice as wide as the Parthenon; but you would lose the beauty of proportion by doing so. This, then, is what I meant to say of the primitive architecture and the primitive music, that they soon come to their limit; they soon are exhausted, and can do nothing more. If you attempt more, it's like taxing a musical instrument beyond its powers." "You but try, Bateman," said Reding, "to make a bass play quadrilles, and you will see what is meant by taxing an instrument." "Well, I have heard Lindley play all sorts of quick tunes on his bass," said Bateman, "and most wonderful it is." "Wonderful is the right word," answered Reding; "it is very wonderful. You say, 'How _can_ he manage it?' and 'It's very wonderful for a bass;' but it is not pleasant in itself. In like manner, I have always felt a disgust when Mr. So-and-so comes forward to make his sweet flute bleat and bray like a hautbois; it's forcing the poor thing to do what it was never made for." "This is literally true as regards Gregorian music," said Campbell; "instruments did not exist in primitive times which could execute any other. But I am speaking under correction; Mr. Reding seems to know more about the subject than I do." "I have always understood, as you say," answered Charles, "modern music did not come into existence till after the powers of the violin became known. Corelli himself, who wrote not two hundred years ago, hardly ventures on the shift. The piano, again, I have heard, has almost given birth to Beethoven." "Modern music, then, could not be in ancient times, for want of modern instruments," said Campbell; "and, in like manner, Gothic architecture could not exist until vaulting was brought to perfection. Great mechanical inventions have taken place, both in architecture and in music, since the age of basilicas and Gregorians; and each science has gained by it." "It is curious enough," said Reding, "one thing I have been accustomed to say, quite falls in with this view of yours. When people who are not musicians have accused Handel and Beethoven of not being _simple_, I have always said, 'Is Gothic architecture _simple_?' A cathedral expresses one idea, but it is indefinitely varied and elaborated in its parts; so is a symphony or quartett of Beethoven." "Certainly, Bateman, you must tolerate Pagan architecture, or you must in consistency exclude Pagan or Jewish Gregorians," said Campbell; "you must tolerate figured music, or reprobate tracery windows." "And which are you for," asked Bateman, "Gothic with Handel, or Roman with Gregorians?" "For both in their place," answered Campbell. "I exceedingly prefer Gothic architecture to classical. I think it the one true child and development of Christianity; but I won't, for that reason, discard the Pagan style which has been sanctified by eighteen centuries, by the exclusive love of many Christian countries, and by the sanction of a host of saints. I am for toleration. Give Gothic an ascendancy; be respectful towards classical." The conversation slackened. "Much as I like modern music," said Charles, "I can't quite go the length to which your doctrine would lead me. I cannot, indeed, help liking Mozart; but surely his music is not religious." "I have not been speaking in defence of particular composers," said Campbell; "figured music may be right, yet Mozart or Beethoven inadmissible. In like manner, you don't suppose, because I tolerate Roman architecture, that therefore I like naked cupids to stand for cherubs, and sprawling women for the cardinal virtues." He paused. "Besides," he added, "as you were saying yourself just now, we must consult the genius of our country and the religious associations of our people." "Well," said Bateman, "I think the perfection of sacred music is Gregorian set to harmonies; there you have the glorious old chants, and just a little modern richness." "And I think it just the worst of all," answered Campbell; "it is a mixture of two things, each good in itself, and incongruous together. It's a mixture of the first and second courses at table. It's like the architecture of the fa ade at Milan, half Gothic, half Grecian." "It's what is always used, I believe," said Charles. "Oh yes, we must not go against the age," said Campbell; "it would be absurd to do so. I only spoke of what was right and wrong on abstract principles; and, to tell the truth, I can't help liking the mixture myself, though I can't defend it." Bateman rang for tea; his friends wished to return home soon; it was the month of January, and no season for after-dinner strolls. "Well," he said, "Campbell, you are more lenient to the age than to me; you yield to the age when it sets a figured bass to a Gregorian tone; but you laugh at me for setting a coat upon a cassock." "It's no honour to be the author of a mongrel type," said Campbell. "A mongrel type?" said Bateman; "rather it is a transition state." "What are you passing to?" asked Charles. "Talking of transitions," said Campbell abruptly, "do you know that your man Willis--I don't know his college, he turned Romanist--is living in my parish, and I have hopes he is making a transition back again." "Have you seen him?" said Charles. "No; I have called, but was unfortunate; he was out. He still goes to mass, I find." "Why, where does he find a chapel?" asked Bateman. "At Seaton. A good seven miles from you," said Charles. "Yes," answered Campbell; "and he walks to and fro every Sunday." "That is not like a transition, except a physical one," observed Reding. "A person must go somewhere," answered Campbell; "I suppose he went to church up to the week he joined the Romanists." "Very awful, these defections," said Bateman; "but very satisfactory, a melancholy satisfaction," with a look at Charles, "that the victims of delusions should be at length recovered." "Yes," said Campbell; "very sad indeed. I am afraid we must expect a number more." "Well, I don't know how to think it," said Charles; "the hold our Church has on the mind is so powerful; it is such a wrench to leave it, I cannot fancy any party-tie standing against it. Humanly speaking, there is far, far more to keep them fast than to carry them away." "Yes, if they moved as a party," said Campbell; "but that is not the case. They don't move simply because others move, but, poor fellows, because they can't help it.--Bateman, will you let my chaise be brought round?--How _can_ they help it?" continued he, standing up over the fire; "their Catholic principles lead them on, and there's nothing to drive them back." "Why should not their love for their own Church?" asked Bateman; "it is deplorable, unpardonable." "They will keep going one after another, as they ripen," said Campbell. "Did you hear the report--I did not think much of it myself," said Reding,--"that Smith was moving?" "Not impossible," answered Campbell thoughtfully. "Impossible, quite impossible," cried Bateman; "such a triumph to the enemy; I'll not believe it till I see it." "_Not_ impossible," repeated Campbell, as he buttoned and fitted his great-coat about him; "he has shifted his ground." His carriage was announced. "Mr. Reding, I believe I can take you part of your way, if you will accept of a seat in my pony-chaise." Charles accepted the offer; and Bateman was soon deserted by his two guests. CHAPTER XVII. Campbell put Charles down about half-way between Melford and his home. It was bright moonlight; and, after thanking his new friend for the lift, he bounded over the stile at the side of the road, and was at once buried in the shade of the copse along which his path lay. Soon he came in sight of a tall wooden Cross, which, in better days, had been a religious emblem, but had served in latter times to mark the boundary between two contiguous parishes. The moon was behind him, and the sacred symbol rose awfully in the pale sky, overhanging a pool, which was still venerated in the neighbourhood for its reported miraculous virtue. Charles, to his surprise, saw distinctly a man kneeling on the little mound out of which the Cross grew; nay, heard him, for his shoulders were bare, and he was using the discipline upon them, while he repeated what appeared to be some form of devotion. Charles stopped, unwilling to interrupt, yet not knowing how to pass; but the stranger had caught the sound of feet, and in a few seconds vanished from his view. He was overcome with a sudden emotion, which he could not control. "O happy times," he cried, "when faith was one! O blessed penitent, whoever you are, who know what to believe, and how to gain pardon, and can begin where others end! Here am I, in my twenty-third year, uncertain about everything, because I have nothing to trust." He drew near to the Cross, took off his hat, knelt down and kissed the wood, and prayed awhile that whatever might be the consequences, whatever the trial, whatever the loss, he might have grace to follow whithersoever God should call him. He then rose and turned to the cold well; he took some water in his palm and drank it. He felt as if he could have prayed to the Saint who owned that pool--St. Thomas the Martyr, he believed--to plead for him, and to aid him in his search after the true faith; but something whispered, "It is wrong;" and he checked the wish. So, regaining his hat, he passed away, and pursued his homeward path at a brisk pace. The family had retired for the night, and he went up without delay to his bedroom. Passing through his study, he found a letter lying on his table, without post-mark, which had come for him in his absence. He broke the seal; it was an anonymous paper, and began as follows:-- "_Questions for one whom it concerns._ 1. What is meant by the One Church of which the Creed speaks?" "This is too much for to-night," thought Charles, "it is late already;" and he folded it up again and threw it on his dressing-table. "Some well-meaning person, I dare say, who thinks he knows me." He wound up his watch, gave a yawn, and put on his slippers. "Who can there be in this neighbourhood to write it?" He opened it again. "It's certainly a Catholic's writing," he said. His mind glanced to the person whom he had seen under the Cross; perhaps it glanced further. He sat down and began reading _in extenso:_-- "_Questions for one whom it concerns._ 1. What is meant by the One Church of which the Creed speaks? 2. Is it a generalization or a thing? 3. Does it belong to past history or to the present time? 4. Does not Scripture speak of it as a kingdom? 5. And a kingdom which was to last to the end? 6. What is a kingdom? and what is meant when Scripture calls the Church a kingdom? 7. Is it a visible kingdom, or an invisible? 8. Can a kingdom have two governments, and these acting in contrary directions? 9. Is identity of institutions, opinions, or race, sufficient to make two nations one kingdom? 10. Is the Episcopal form, the hierarchy, or the Apostles' Creed, sufficient to make the Churches of Rome and of England one? 11. Where there are parts, does not unity require union, and a visible unity require a visible union? 12. How can two religions be the same which have utterly distinct worships and ideas of worship? 13. Can two religions be one, if the most sacred and peculiar act of worship in the one is called 'a blasphemous fable and dangerous deceit' in the other? 14. Has not the One Church of Christ one faith? 15. Can a Church be Christ's which has not one faith? 16. Which is contradictory to itself in its documents? 17. And in different centuries? 18. And in its documents contrasted with its divines? 19. And in its divines and members one with another? 20. What is _the_ faith of the English Church? 21. How many Councils does the English Church admit? 22. Does the English Church consider the present Nestorian and Jacobite Churches under an anathema, or part of the visible Church? 23. Is it necessary, or possible, to believe any one but a professed messenger from God? 24. Is the English Church, does she claim to be, a messenger from God? 25. Does she impart the truth, or bid us seek it? 26. If she leaves us to seek it, do members of the English Church seek it with that earnestness which Scripture enjoins? 27. Is a person safe who lives without faith, even though he seems to have hope and charity?" Charles got very sleepy before he reached the "twenty-seventhly." "It won't do," he said; "I am only losing my time. They seem well put; but they must stand over." He put the paper from him, said his prayers, and was soon fast asleep. Next morning, on waking, the subject of the letter came into his mind, and he lay for some time thinking over it. "Certainly," he said, "I do wish very much to be settled either in the English Church or somewhere else. I wish I knew _what_ Christianity was; I am ready to be at pains to seek it, and would accept it eagerly and thankfully, if found. But it's a work of time; all the paper-arguments in the world are unequal to giving one a view in a moment. There must be a process; they may shorten it, as medicine shortens physical processes, but they can't supersede its necessity. I recollect how all my religious doubts and theories went to flight on my dear father's death. They weren't part of me, and could not sustain rough weather. Conviction is the eyesight of the mind, not a conclusion from premises; God works it, and His works are slow. At least so it is with me. I can't believe on a sudden; if I attempt it, I shall be using words for things, and be sure to repent it. Or if not, I shall go right merely by hazard. I must move in what seems God's way; I can but put myself on the road; a higher power must overtake me, and carry me forward. At present I have a direct duty upon me, which my dear father left me, to take a good class. This is the path of duty. I won't put off the inquiry, but I'll let it proceed in that path. God can bless my reading to my spiritual illumination, as well as anything else. Saul sought his father's asses, and found a kingdom. All in good time. When I have taken my degree the subject will properly come on me." He sighed. "My degree! those odious Articles! rather, when I have passed my examination. Well, it's no good lying here;" and he jumped up, and signed himself with the Cross. His eye caught the letter. "It's well written--better than Willis could write; it's not Willis's. There's something about that Willis I don't understand. I wonder how he and his mother get on together. I don't think he _has_ any sisters." CHAPTER XVIII. Campbell had been much pleased with Reding, and his interest in him was not lessened by a hint from Bateman that his allegiance to the English Church was in danger. He called on him in no long time, asked him to dinner, and, when Charles had returned his invitation, and Campbell had accepted it, the beginning of an acquaintance was formed between the rectory at Sutton and the family at Boughton which grew into an intimacy as time went on. Campbell was a gentleman, a travelled man, of clear head and ardent mind, candid, well-read in English divinity, a devoted Anglican, and the incumbent of a living so well endowed as almost to be a dignity. Mary was pleased at the introduction, as bringing her brother under the influence of an intellect which he could not make light of; and, as Campbell had a carriage, it was natural that he should wish to save Charles the loss of a day's reading and the trouble of a muddy walk to the rectory and back by coming over himself to Boughton. Accordingly it so happened that he saw Charles twice at his mother's for once that he saw him at Sutton. But whatever came of these visits, nothing occurred which particularly bears upon the line of our narrative; so let them pass. One day Charles called upon Bateman, and, on entering the room, was surprised to see him and Campbell at luncheon, and in conversation with a third person. There was a moment's surprise and hesitation on seeing him before they rose and welcomed him as usual. When he looked at the stranger he felt a slight awkwardness himself, which he could not control. It was Willis; and apparently submitted to the process of reconversion. Charles was evidently _de trop_, but there was no help for it; so he shook hands with Willis, and accepted the pressing call of Bateman to seat himself at table, and to share their bread and cheese. Charles sat down opposite Willis, and for a while could not keep his eyes from him. At first he had some difficulty in believing he had before him the impetuous youth he had known two years and a half before. He had always been silent in general company; but in that he was changed, as in everything else. Not that he talked more than was natural, but he talked freely and easily. The great change, however, was in his appearance and manner. He had lost his bloom and youthfulness; his expression was sweeter indeed than before, and very placid, but there was a thin line down his face on each side of his mouth; his cheeks were wanting in fulness, and he had the air of a man of thirty. When he entered into conversation, and became animated, his former self returned. "I suppose we may all admire this cream at this season," said Charles, as he helped himself, "for we are none of us Devonshire men." "It's not peculiar to Devonshire," answered Campbell; "that is, they have it abroad. At Rome there is a sort of cream or cheese very like it, and very common." "Will butter and cream keep in so warm a climate?" asked Charles; "I fancied oil was the substitute." "Rome is not so warm as you fancy," said Willis, "except during the summer." "Oil? so it is," said Campbell; "thus we read in Scripture of the multiplication of the oil and meal, which seems to answer to bread and butter. The oil in Rome is excellent, so clear and pale; you can eat it as milk." "The taste, I suppose, is peculiar," observed Charles. "Just at first," answered Campbell; "but one soon gets used to it. All such substances, milk, butter, cheese, oil, have a particular taste at first, which use alone gets over. The rich Guernsey butter is too much for strangers, while Russians relish whale-oil. Most of our tastes are in a measure artificial." "It is certainly so with vegetables," said Willis; "when I was a boy I could not eat beans, spinach, asparagus, parsnips, and I think some others." "Therefore your hermit's fare is not only the most natural, but the only naturally palatable, I suppose,--a crust of bread and a draught from the stream," replied Campbell. "Or the Clerk of Copmanhurst's dry peas," said Charles. "The macaroni and grapes of the Neapolitans are as natural and more palatable," said Willis. "Rather they are a luxury," said Bateman. "No," answered Campbell, "not a luxury; a luxury is in its very idea a something _recherch _. Thus Horace speaks of the '_peregrina lagois_.' What nature yields _sponte su _ around you, however delicious, is no luxury. Wild ducks are no luxury in your old neighbourhood, amid your Oxford fens, Bateman; nor grapes at Naples." "Then the old women here are luxurious over their sixpenn'rth of tea," said Bateman; "for it comes from China." Campbell was posed for an instant. Somehow neither he nor Bateman were quite at their ease, whether with themselves or with each other; it might be Charles's sudden intrusion, or something which had happened before it. Campbell answered at length that steamers and railroads were making strange changes; that time and place were vanishing, and price would soon be the only measure of luxury. "This seems the measure also of _grasso_ and _magro_ food in Italy," said Willis; "for I think there are dispensations for butcher's meat in Lent, in consequence of the dearness of bread and oil." "This seems to show that the age for abstinences and fastings is past," observed Campbell; "for it's absurd to keep Lent on beef and mutton." "Oh, Campbell, what are you saying?" cried Bateman; "past! are we bound by their lax ways in Italy?" "I do certainly think," answered Campbell, "that fasting is unsuitable to this age, in England as well as in Rome." "Take care, my fine fellows," thought Charles; "keep your ranks, or you won't secure your prisoner." "What, not fast on Friday!" cried Bateman; "we always did so most rigidly at Oxford." "It does you credit," answered Campbell; "but I am of Cambridge." "But what do you say to Rubrics and the Calendar?" insisted Bateman. "They are not binding," answered Campbell. "They _are_, binding," said Bateman. A pause, as between the rounds of a boxing-match. Reding interposed: "Bateman, cut me, please, a bit of your capital bread--home-made, I suppose?" "A thousand pardons!" said Bateman:--"not binding?--Pass it to him, Willis, if you please. Yes, it comes from a farmer, next door. I'm glad you like it.--I repeat, they _are_ binding, Campbell." "An odd sort of binding, when they have never bound," answered Campbell; "they have existed two or three hundred years; when were they ever put in force?" "But there they are," said Bateman, "in the Prayer Book." "Yes, and there let them lie and never get out of it," retorted Campbell; "there they will stay till the end of the story." "Oh, for shame!" cried Bateman; "you should aid your mother in a difficulty, and not be like the priest and the Levite." "My mother does not wish to be aided," continued Campbell. "Oh, how you talk! What shall I do? What can be done?" cried poor Bateman. "Done! nothing," said Campbell; "is there no such thing as the desuetude of a law? Does not a law cease to be binding when it is not enforced? I appeal to Mr. Willis." Willis, thus addressed, answered that he was no moral theologian, but he had attended some schools, and he believed it was the Catholic rule that when a law had been promulgated, and was not observed by the majority, if the legislator knew the state of the case, and yet kept silence, he was considered _ipso facto_ to revoke it. "What!" said Bateman to Campbell, "do you appeal to the Romish Church?" "No," answered Campbell; "I appeal to the whole Catholic Church, of which the Church of Rome happens in this particular case to be the exponent. It is plain common sense, that, if a law is not enforced, at length it ceases to be binding. Else it would be quite a tyranny; we should not know where we were. The Church of Rome does but give expression to this common-sense view." "Well, then," said Bateman, "I will appeal to the Church of Rome too. Rome is part of the Catholic Church as well as we: since, then, the Romish Church has ever kept up fastings the ordinance is not abolished; the 'greater part' of the Catholic Church has always observed it." "But it has not," said Campbell; "it now dispenses with fasts, as you have heard." Willis interposed to ask a question. "Do you mean then," he said to Bateman, "that the Church of England and the Church of Rome make one Church?" "Most certainly," answered Bateman. "Is it possible?" said Willis; "in what sense of the word _one_?" "In every sense," answered Bateman, "but that of intercommunion." "That is, I suppose," said Willis, "they are one, except that they have no intercourse with each other." Bateman assented. Willis continued: "No intercourse; that is, no social dealings, no consulting or arranging, no ordering and obeying, no mutual support; in short, no visible union." Bateman still assented. "Well, that is my difficulty," said Willis; "I can't understand how two parts can make up one visible body if they are not visibly united; unity implies _union_." "I don't see that at all," said Bateman; "I don't see that at all. No, Willis, you must not expect I shall give that up to you; it is one of our points. There is only one visible Church, and therefore the English and Romish Churches are both parts of it." Campbell saw clearly that Bateman had got into a difficulty, and he came to the rescue in his own way. "We must distinguish," he said, "the state of the case more exactly. A kingdom may be divided, it may be distracted by parties, by dissensions, yet be still a kingdom. That, I conceive, is the real condition of the Church; in this way the Churches of England, Rome, and Greece are one." "I suppose you will grant," said Willis, "that in proportion as a rebellion is strong, so is the unity of the kingdom threatened; and if a rebellion is successful, or if the parties in a civil war manage to divide the power and territory between them, then forthwith, instead of one kingdom, we have two. Ten or fifteen years since, Belgium was part of the kingdom of the Netherlands: I suppose you would not call it part of that kingdom now? This seems the case of the Churches of Rome and England." "Still, a kingdom may be in a state of decay," replied Campbell; "consider the case of the Turkish Empire at this moment. The Union between its separate portions is so languid, that each separate Pasha may almost be termed a separate sovereign; still it is one kingdom." "The Church, then, at present," said Willis, "is a kingdom tending to dissolution?" "Certainly it is," answered Campbell. "And will ultimately fail?" asked Willis. "Certainly," said Campbell; "when the end comes, according to our Lord's saying, 'When the Son of man cometh, shall He find faith on the earth?' just as in the case of the chosen people, the sceptre failed from Judah when the Shiloh came." "Surely the Church has failed already _before_ the end," said Willis, "according to the view you take of failing. How _can_ any separation be more complete than exists at present between Rome, Greece, and England?" "They might excommunicate each other," said Campbell. "Then you are willing," said Willis, "to assign beforehand something definite, the occurrence of which will constitute a real separation." "Don't do so," said Reding to Campbell; "it is dangerous; don't commit yourself in a moral question; for then, if the thing specified did occur, it would be difficult to see our way." "No," said Willis; "you certainly _would_ be in a difficulty; but you would find your way out, I know. In that case you would choose some other _ultimatum_ as your test of schism. There would be," he added, speaking with some emotion, "'in the lowest depth a lower still.'" The concluding words were out of keeping with the tone of the conversation hitherto, and fairly excited Bateman, who, for some time, had been an impatient listener. "That's a dangerous line, Campbell," he said, "it is indeed; I can't go along with you. It will never do to say that the Church is failing; no, it never fails. It is always strong, and pure, and perfect, as the Prophets describe it. Look at its cathedrals, abbey-churches, and other sanctuaries, these fitly typify it." "My dear Bateman," answered Campbell, "I am as willing as you to maintain the fulfilment of the prophecies made to the Church, but we must allow the _fact_ that the branches of the Church are _divided_, while we maintain the _doctrine_, that the Church should be one." "I don't see that at all," answered Bateman; "no, we need not allow it. There's no such thing as Churches, there's but one Church everywhere, and it is _not_ divided. It is merely the outward forms, appearances, manifestations of the Church that are divided. The Church is one as much as ever it was." "That will never do," said Campbell; and he stood up before the fire in

acting

How many times the word 'acting' appears in the text?

Both existed before Christianity; both are of Pagan origin; both were afterwards consecrated to the service of the Church." "Pardon me," interrupted Bateman, "Gregorians were Jewish, not Pagan." "Be it so, for argument sake," said Campbell; "still, at least, they were not of Christian origin. Next, both the old music and the old architecture were inartificial and limited, as methods of exhibiting their respective arts. You can't have a large Grecian temple, you can't have a long Gregorian _Gloria_." "Not a long one!" said Bateman; "why there's poor Willis used to complain how tedious the old Gregorian compositions were abroad." "I don't explain myself," answered Campbell; "of course you may produce them to any length, but merely by addition, not by carrying on the melody. You can put two together, and then have one twice as long as either. But I speak of a musical piece, which must of course be the natural development of certain ideas, with one part depending on another. In like manner, you might make an Ionic temple twice as long or twice as wide as the Parthenon; but you would lose the beauty of proportion by doing so. This, then, is what I meant to say of the primitive architecture and the primitive music, that they soon come to their limit; they soon are exhausted, and can do nothing more. If you attempt more, it's like taxing a musical instrument beyond its powers." "You but try, Bateman," said Reding, "to make a bass play quadrilles, and you will see what is meant by taxing an instrument." "Well, I have heard Lindley play all sorts of quick tunes on his bass," said Bateman, "and most wonderful it is." "Wonderful is the right word," answered Reding; "it is very wonderful. You say, 'How _can_ he manage it?' and 'It's very wonderful for a bass;' but it is not pleasant in itself. In like manner, I have always felt a disgust when Mr. So-and-so comes forward to make his sweet flute bleat and bray like a hautbois; it's forcing the poor thing to do what it was never made for." "This is literally true as regards Gregorian music," said Campbell; "instruments did not exist in primitive times which could execute any other. But I am speaking under correction; Mr. Reding seems to know more about the subject than I do." "I have always understood, as you say," answered Charles, "modern music did not come into existence till after the powers of the violin became known. Corelli himself, who wrote not two hundred years ago, hardly ventures on the shift. The piano, again, I have heard, has almost given birth to Beethoven." "Modern music, then, could not be in ancient times, for want of modern instruments," said Campbell; "and, in like manner, Gothic architecture could not exist until vaulting was brought to perfection. Great mechanical inventions have taken place, both in architecture and in music, since the age of basilicas and Gregorians; and each science has gained by it." "It is curious enough," said Reding, "one thing I have been accustomed to say, quite falls in with this view of yours. When people who are not musicians have accused Handel and Beethoven of not being _simple_, I have always said, 'Is Gothic architecture _simple_?' A cathedral expresses one idea, but it is indefinitely varied and elaborated in its parts; so is a symphony or quartett of Beethoven." "Certainly, Bateman, you must tolerate Pagan architecture, or you must in consistency exclude Pagan or Jewish Gregorians," said Campbell; "you must tolerate figured music, or reprobate tracery windows." "And which are you for," asked Bateman, "Gothic with Handel, or Roman with Gregorians?" "For both in their place," answered Campbell. "I exceedingly prefer Gothic architecture to classical. I think it the one true child and development of Christianity; but I won't, for that reason, discard the Pagan style which has been sanctified by eighteen centuries, by the exclusive love of many Christian countries, and by the sanction of a host of saints. I am for toleration. Give Gothic an ascendancy; be respectful towards classical." The conversation slackened. "Much as I like modern music," said Charles, "I can't quite go the length to which your doctrine would lead me. I cannot, indeed, help liking Mozart; but surely his music is not religious." "I have not been speaking in defence of particular composers," said Campbell; "figured music may be right, yet Mozart or Beethoven inadmissible. In like manner, you don't suppose, because I tolerate Roman architecture, that therefore I like naked cupids to stand for cherubs, and sprawling women for the cardinal virtues." He paused. "Besides," he added, "as you were saying yourself just now, we must consult the genius of our country and the religious associations of our people." "Well," said Bateman, "I think the perfection of sacred music is Gregorian set to harmonies; there you have the glorious old chants, and just a little modern richness." "And I think it just the worst of all," answered Campbell; "it is a mixture of two things, each good in itself, and incongruous together. It's a mixture of the first and second courses at table. It's like the architecture of the fa ade at Milan, half Gothic, half Grecian." "It's what is always used, I believe," said Charles. "Oh yes, we must not go against the age," said Campbell; "it would be absurd to do so. I only spoke of what was right and wrong on abstract principles; and, to tell the truth, I can't help liking the mixture myself, though I can't defend it." Bateman rang for tea; his friends wished to return home soon; it was the month of January, and no season for after-dinner strolls. "Well," he said, "Campbell, you are more lenient to the age than to me; you yield to the age when it sets a figured bass to a Gregorian tone; but you laugh at me for setting a coat upon a cassock." "It's no honour to be the author of a mongrel type," said Campbell. "A mongrel type?" said Bateman; "rather it is a transition state." "What are you passing to?" asked Charles. "Talking of transitions," said Campbell abruptly, "do you know that your man Willis--I don't know his college, he turned Romanist--is living in my parish, and I have hopes he is making a transition back again." "Have you seen him?" said Charles. "No; I have called, but was unfortunate; he was out. He still goes to mass, I find." "Why, where does he find a chapel?" asked Bateman. "At Seaton. A good seven miles from you," said Charles. "Yes," answered Campbell; "and he walks to and fro every Sunday." "That is not like a transition, except a physical one," observed Reding. "A person must go somewhere," answered Campbell; "I suppose he went to church up to the week he joined the Romanists." "Very awful, these defections," said Bateman; "but very satisfactory, a melancholy satisfaction," with a look at Charles, "that the victims of delusions should be at length recovered." "Yes," said Campbell; "very sad indeed. I am afraid we must expect a number more." "Well, I don't know how to think it," said Charles; "the hold our Church has on the mind is so powerful; it is such a wrench to leave it, I cannot fancy any party-tie standing against it. Humanly speaking, there is far, far more to keep them fast than to carry them away." "Yes, if they moved as a party," said Campbell; "but that is not the case. They don't move simply because others move, but, poor fellows, because they can't help it.--Bateman, will you let my chaise be brought round?--How _can_ they help it?" continued he, standing up over the fire; "their Catholic principles lead them on, and there's nothing to drive them back." "Why should not their love for their own Church?" asked Bateman; "it is deplorable, unpardonable." "They will keep going one after another, as they ripen," said Campbell. "Did you hear the report--I did not think much of it myself," said Reding,--"that Smith was moving?" "Not impossible," answered Campbell thoughtfully. "Impossible, quite impossible," cried Bateman; "such a triumph to the enemy; I'll not believe it till I see it." "_Not_ impossible," repeated Campbell, as he buttoned and fitted his great-coat about him; "he has shifted his ground." His carriage was announced. "Mr. Reding, I believe I can take you part of your way, if you will accept of a seat in my pony-chaise." Charles accepted the offer; and Bateman was soon deserted by his two guests. CHAPTER XVII. Campbell put Charles down about half-way between Melford and his home. It was bright moonlight; and, after thanking his new friend for the lift, he bounded over the stile at the side of the road, and was at once buried in the shade of the copse along which his path lay. Soon he came in sight of a tall wooden Cross, which, in better days, had been a religious emblem, but had served in latter times to mark the boundary between two contiguous parishes. The moon was behind him, and the sacred symbol rose awfully in the pale sky, overhanging a pool, which was still venerated in the neighbourhood for its reported miraculous virtue. Charles, to his surprise, saw distinctly a man kneeling on the little mound out of which the Cross grew; nay, heard him, for his shoulders were bare, and he was using the discipline upon them, while he repeated what appeared to be some form of devotion. Charles stopped, unwilling to interrupt, yet not knowing how to pass; but the stranger had caught the sound of feet, and in a few seconds vanished from his view. He was overcome with a sudden emotion, which he could not control. "O happy times," he cried, "when faith was one! O blessed penitent, whoever you are, who know what to believe, and how to gain pardon, and can begin where others end! Here am I, in my twenty-third year, uncertain about everything, because I have nothing to trust." He drew near to the Cross, took off his hat, knelt down and kissed the wood, and prayed awhile that whatever might be the consequences, whatever the trial, whatever the loss, he might have grace to follow whithersoever God should call him. He then rose and turned to the cold well; he took some water in his palm and drank it. He felt as if he could have prayed to the Saint who owned that pool--St. Thomas the Martyr, he believed--to plead for him, and to aid him in his search after the true faith; but something whispered, "It is wrong;" and he checked the wish. So, regaining his hat, he passed away, and pursued his homeward path at a brisk pace. The family had retired for the night, and he went up without delay to his bedroom. Passing through his study, he found a letter lying on his table, without post-mark, which had come for him in his absence. He broke the seal; it was an anonymous paper, and began as follows:-- "_Questions for one whom it concerns._ 1. What is meant by the One Church of which the Creed speaks?" "This is too much for to-night," thought Charles, "it is late already;" and he folded it up again and threw it on his dressing-table. "Some well-meaning person, I dare say, who thinks he knows me." He wound up his watch, gave a yawn, and put on his slippers. "Who can there be in this neighbourhood to write it?" He opened it again. "It's certainly a Catholic's writing," he said. His mind glanced to the person whom he had seen under the Cross; perhaps it glanced further. He sat down and began reading _in extenso:_-- "_Questions for one whom it concerns._ 1. What is meant by the One Church of which the Creed speaks? 2. Is it a generalization or a thing? 3. Does it belong to past history or to the present time? 4. Does not Scripture speak of it as a kingdom? 5. And a kingdom which was to last to the end? 6. What is a kingdom? and what is meant when Scripture calls the Church a kingdom? 7. Is it a visible kingdom, or an invisible? 8. Can a kingdom have two governments, and these acting in contrary directions? 9. Is identity of institutions, opinions, or race, sufficient to make two nations one kingdom? 10. Is the Episcopal form, the hierarchy, or the Apostles' Creed, sufficient to make the Churches of Rome and of England one? 11. Where there are parts, does not unity require union, and a visible unity require a visible union? 12. How can two religions be the same which have utterly distinct worships and ideas of worship? 13. Can two religions be one, if the most sacred and peculiar act of worship in the one is called 'a blasphemous fable and dangerous deceit' in the other? 14. Has not the One Church of Christ one faith? 15. Can a Church be Christ's which has not one faith? 16. Which is contradictory to itself in its documents? 17. And in different centuries? 18. And in its documents contrasted with its divines? 19. And in its divines and members one with another? 20. What is _the_ faith of the English Church? 21. How many Councils does the English Church admit? 22. Does the English Church consider the present Nestorian and Jacobite Churches under an anathema, or part of the visible Church? 23. Is it necessary, or possible, to believe any one but a professed messenger from God? 24. Is the English Church, does she claim to be, a messenger from God? 25. Does she impart the truth, or bid us seek it? 26. If she leaves us to seek it, do members of the English Church seek it with that earnestness which Scripture enjoins? 27. Is a person safe who lives without faith, even though he seems to have hope and charity?" Charles got very sleepy before he reached the "twenty-seventhly." "It won't do," he said; "I am only losing my time. They seem well put; but they must stand over." He put the paper from him, said his prayers, and was soon fast asleep. Next morning, on waking, the subject of the letter came into his mind, and he lay for some time thinking over it. "Certainly," he said, "I do wish very much to be settled either in the English Church or somewhere else. I wish I knew _what_ Christianity was; I am ready to be at pains to seek it, and would accept it eagerly and thankfully, if found. But it's a work of time; all the paper-arguments in the world are unequal to giving one a view in a moment. There must be a process; they may shorten it, as medicine shortens physical processes, but they can't supersede its necessity. I recollect how all my religious doubts and theories went to flight on my dear father's death. They weren't part of me, and could not sustain rough weather. Conviction is the eyesight of the mind, not a conclusion from premises; God works it, and His works are slow. At least so it is with me. I can't believe on a sudden; if I attempt it, I shall be using words for things, and be sure to repent it. Or if not, I shall go right merely by hazard. I must move in what seems God's way; I can but put myself on the road; a higher power must overtake me, and carry me forward. At present I have a direct duty upon me, which my dear father left me, to take a good class. This is the path of duty. I won't put off the inquiry, but I'll let it proceed in that path. God can bless my reading to my spiritual illumination, as well as anything else. Saul sought his father's asses, and found a kingdom. All in good time. When I have taken my degree the subject will properly come on me." He sighed. "My degree! those odious Articles! rather, when I have passed my examination. Well, it's no good lying here;" and he jumped up, and signed himself with the Cross. His eye caught the letter. "It's well written--better than Willis could write; it's not Willis's. There's something about that Willis I don't understand. I wonder how he and his mother get on together. I don't think he _has_ any sisters." CHAPTER XVIII. Campbell had been much pleased with Reding, and his interest in him was not lessened by a hint from Bateman that his allegiance to the English Church was in danger. He called on him in no long time, asked him to dinner, and, when Charles had returned his invitation, and Campbell had accepted it, the beginning of an acquaintance was formed between the rectory at Sutton and the family at Boughton which grew into an intimacy as time went on. Campbell was a gentleman, a travelled man, of clear head and ardent mind, candid, well-read in English divinity, a devoted Anglican, and the incumbent of a living so well endowed as almost to be a dignity. Mary was pleased at the introduction, as bringing her brother under the influence of an intellect which he could not make light of; and, as Campbell had a carriage, it was natural that he should wish to save Charles the loss of a day's reading and the trouble of a muddy walk to the rectory and back by coming over himself to Boughton. Accordingly it so happened that he saw Charles twice at his mother's for once that he saw him at Sutton. But whatever came of these visits, nothing occurred which particularly bears upon the line of our narrative; so let them pass. One day Charles called upon Bateman, and, on entering the room, was surprised to see him and Campbell at luncheon, and in conversation with a third person. There was a moment's surprise and hesitation on seeing him before they rose and welcomed him as usual. When he looked at the stranger he felt a slight awkwardness himself, which he could not control. It was Willis; and apparently submitted to the process of reconversion. Charles was evidently _de trop_, but there was no help for it; so he shook hands with Willis, and accepted the pressing call of Bateman to seat himself at table, and to share their bread and cheese. Charles sat down opposite Willis, and for a while could not keep his eyes from him. At first he had some difficulty in believing he had before him the impetuous youth he had known two years and a half before. He had always been silent in general company; but in that he was changed, as in everything else. Not that he talked more than was natural, but he talked freely and easily. The great change, however, was in his appearance and manner. He had lost his bloom and youthfulness; his expression was sweeter indeed than before, and very placid, but there was a thin line down his face on each side of his mouth; his cheeks were wanting in fulness, and he had the air of a man of thirty. When he entered into conversation, and became animated, his former self returned. "I suppose we may all admire this cream at this season," said Charles, as he helped himself, "for we are none of us Devonshire men." "It's not peculiar to Devonshire," answered Campbell; "that is, they have it abroad. At Rome there is a sort of cream or cheese very like it, and very common." "Will butter and cream keep in so warm a climate?" asked Charles; "I fancied oil was the substitute." "Rome is not so warm as you fancy," said Willis, "except during the summer." "Oil? so it is," said Campbell; "thus we read in Scripture of the multiplication of the oil and meal, which seems to answer to bread and butter. The oil in Rome is excellent, so clear and pale; you can eat it as milk." "The taste, I suppose, is peculiar," observed Charles. "Just at first," answered Campbell; "but one soon gets used to it. All such substances, milk, butter, cheese, oil, have a particular taste at first, which use alone gets over. The rich Guernsey butter is too much for strangers, while Russians relish whale-oil. Most of our tastes are in a measure artificial." "It is certainly so with vegetables," said Willis; "when I was a boy I could not eat beans, spinach, asparagus, parsnips, and I think some others." "Therefore your hermit's fare is not only the most natural, but the only naturally palatable, I suppose,--a crust of bread and a draught from the stream," replied Campbell. "Or the Clerk of Copmanhurst's dry peas," said Charles. "The macaroni and grapes of the Neapolitans are as natural and more palatable," said Willis. "Rather they are a luxury," said Bateman. "No," answered Campbell, "not a luxury; a luxury is in its very idea a something _recherch _. Thus Horace speaks of the '_peregrina lagois_.' What nature yields _sponte su _ around you, however delicious, is no luxury. Wild ducks are no luxury in your old neighbourhood, amid your Oxford fens, Bateman; nor grapes at Naples." "Then the old women here are luxurious over their sixpenn'rth of tea," said Bateman; "for it comes from China." Campbell was posed for an instant. Somehow neither he nor Bateman were quite at their ease, whether with themselves or with each other; it might be Charles's sudden intrusion, or something which had happened before it. Campbell answered at length that steamers and railroads were making strange changes; that time and place were vanishing, and price would soon be the only measure of luxury. "This seems the measure also of _grasso_ and _magro_ food in Italy," said Willis; "for I think there are dispensations for butcher's meat in Lent, in consequence of the dearness of bread and oil." "This seems to show that the age for abstinences and fastings is past," observed Campbell; "for it's absurd to keep Lent on beef and mutton." "Oh, Campbell, what are you saying?" cried Bateman; "past! are we bound by their lax ways in Italy?" "I do certainly think," answered Campbell, "that fasting is unsuitable to this age, in England as well as in Rome." "Take care, my fine fellows," thought Charles; "keep your ranks, or you won't secure your prisoner." "What, not fast on Friday!" cried Bateman; "we always did so most rigidly at Oxford." "It does you credit," answered Campbell; "but I am of Cambridge." "But what do you say to Rubrics and the Calendar?" insisted Bateman. "They are not binding," answered Campbell. "They _are_, binding," said Bateman. A pause, as between the rounds of a boxing-match. Reding interposed: "Bateman, cut me, please, a bit of your capital bread--home-made, I suppose?" "A thousand pardons!" said Bateman:--"not binding?--Pass it to him, Willis, if you please. Yes, it comes from a farmer, next door. I'm glad you like it.--I repeat, they _are_ binding, Campbell." "An odd sort of binding, when they have never bound," answered Campbell; "they have existed two or three hundred years; when were they ever put in force?" "But there they are," said Bateman, "in the Prayer Book." "Yes, and there let them lie and never get out of it," retorted Campbell; "there they will stay till the end of the story." "Oh, for shame!" cried Bateman; "you should aid your mother in a difficulty, and not be like the priest and the Levite." "My mother does not wish to be aided," continued Campbell. "Oh, how you talk! What shall I do? What can be done?" cried poor Bateman. "Done! nothing," said Campbell; "is there no such thing as the desuetude of a law? Does not a law cease to be binding when it is not enforced? I appeal to Mr. Willis." Willis, thus addressed, answered that he was no moral theologian, but he had attended some schools, and he believed it was the Catholic rule that when a law had been promulgated, and was not observed by the majority, if the legislator knew the state of the case, and yet kept silence, he was considered _ipso facto_ to revoke it. "What!" said Bateman to Campbell, "do you appeal to the Romish Church?" "No," answered Campbell; "I appeal to the whole Catholic Church, of which the Church of Rome happens in this particular case to be the exponent. It is plain common sense, that, if a law is not enforced, at length it ceases to be binding. Else it would be quite a tyranny; we should not know where we were. The Church of Rome does but give expression to this common-sense view." "Well, then," said Bateman, "I will appeal to the Church of Rome too. Rome is part of the Catholic Church as well as we: since, then, the Romish Church has ever kept up fastings the ordinance is not abolished; the 'greater part' of the Catholic Church has always observed it." "But it has not," said Campbell; "it now dispenses with fasts, as you have heard." Willis interposed to ask a question. "Do you mean then," he said to Bateman, "that the Church of England and the Church of Rome make one Church?" "Most certainly," answered Bateman. "Is it possible?" said Willis; "in what sense of the word _one_?" "In every sense," answered Bateman, "but that of intercommunion." "That is, I suppose," said Willis, "they are one, except that they have no intercourse with each other." Bateman assented. Willis continued: "No intercourse; that is, no social dealings, no consulting or arranging, no ordering and obeying, no mutual support; in short, no visible union." Bateman still assented. "Well, that is my difficulty," said Willis; "I can't understand how two parts can make up one visible body if they are not visibly united; unity implies _union_." "I don't see that at all," said Bateman; "I don't see that at all. No, Willis, you must not expect I shall give that up to you; it is one of our points. There is only one visible Church, and therefore the English and Romish Churches are both parts of it." Campbell saw clearly that Bateman had got into a difficulty, and he came to the rescue in his own way. "We must distinguish," he said, "the state of the case more exactly. A kingdom may be divided, it may be distracted by parties, by dissensions, yet be still a kingdom. That, I conceive, is the real condition of the Church; in this way the Churches of England, Rome, and Greece are one." "I suppose you will grant," said Willis, "that in proportion as a rebellion is strong, so is the unity of the kingdom threatened; and if a rebellion is successful, or if the parties in a civil war manage to divide the power and territory between them, then forthwith, instead of one kingdom, we have two. Ten or fifteen years since, Belgium was part of the kingdom of the Netherlands: I suppose you would not call it part of that kingdom now? This seems the case of the Churches of Rome and England." "Still, a kingdom may be in a state of decay," replied Campbell; "consider the case of the Turkish Empire at this moment. The Union between its separate portions is so languid, that each separate Pasha may almost be termed a separate sovereign; still it is one kingdom." "The Church, then, at present," said Willis, "is a kingdom tending to dissolution?" "Certainly it is," answered Campbell. "And will ultimately fail?" asked Willis. "Certainly," said Campbell; "when the end comes, according to our Lord's saying, 'When the Son of man cometh, shall He find faith on the earth?' just as in the case of the chosen people, the sceptre failed from Judah when the Shiloh came." "Surely the Church has failed already _before_ the end," said Willis, "according to the view you take of failing. How _can_ any separation be more complete than exists at present between Rome, Greece, and England?" "They might excommunicate each other," said Campbell. "Then you are willing," said Willis, "to assign beforehand something definite, the occurrence of which will constitute a real separation." "Don't do so," said Reding to Campbell; "it is dangerous; don't commit yourself in a moral question; for then, if the thing specified did occur, it would be difficult to see our way." "No," said Willis; "you certainly _would_ be in a difficulty; but you would find your way out, I know. In that case you would choose some other _ultimatum_ as your test of schism. There would be," he added, speaking with some emotion, "'in the lowest depth a lower still.'" The concluding words were out of keeping with the tone of the conversation hitherto, and fairly excited Bateman, who, for some time, had been an impatient listener. "That's a dangerous line, Campbell," he said, "it is indeed; I can't go along with you. It will never do to say that the Church is failing; no, it never fails. It is always strong, and pure, and perfect, as the Prophets describe it. Look at its cathedrals, abbey-churches, and other sanctuaries, these fitly typify it." "My dear Bateman," answered Campbell, "I am as willing as you to maintain the fulfilment of the prophecies made to the Church, but we must allow the _fact_ that the branches of the Church are _divided_, while we maintain the _doctrine_, that the Church should be one." "I don't see that at all," answered Bateman; "no, we need not allow it. There's no such thing as Churches, there's but one Church everywhere, and it is _not_ divided. It is merely the outward forms, appearances, manifestations of the Church that are divided. The Church is one as much as ever it was." "That will never do," said Campbell; and he stood up before the fire in

against

How many times the word 'against' appears in the text?

Both existed before Christianity; both are of Pagan origin; both were afterwards consecrated to the service of the Church." "Pardon me," interrupted Bateman, "Gregorians were Jewish, not Pagan." "Be it so, for argument sake," said Campbell; "still, at least, they were not of Christian origin. Next, both the old music and the old architecture were inartificial and limited, as methods of exhibiting their respective arts. You can't have a large Grecian temple, you can't have a long Gregorian _Gloria_." "Not a long one!" said Bateman; "why there's poor Willis used to complain how tedious the old Gregorian compositions were abroad." "I don't explain myself," answered Campbell; "of course you may produce them to any length, but merely by addition, not by carrying on the melody. You can put two together, and then have one twice as long as either. But I speak of a musical piece, which must of course be the natural development of certain ideas, with one part depending on another. In like manner, you might make an Ionic temple twice as long or twice as wide as the Parthenon; but you would lose the beauty of proportion by doing so. This, then, is what I meant to say of the primitive architecture and the primitive music, that they soon come to their limit; they soon are exhausted, and can do nothing more. If you attempt more, it's like taxing a musical instrument beyond its powers." "You but try, Bateman," said Reding, "to make a bass play quadrilles, and you will see what is meant by taxing an instrument." "Well, I have heard Lindley play all sorts of quick tunes on his bass," said Bateman, "and most wonderful it is." "Wonderful is the right word," answered Reding; "it is very wonderful. You say, 'How _can_ he manage it?' and 'It's very wonderful for a bass;' but it is not pleasant in itself. In like manner, I have always felt a disgust when Mr. So-and-so comes forward to make his sweet flute bleat and bray like a hautbois; it's forcing the poor thing to do what it was never made for." "This is literally true as regards Gregorian music," said Campbell; "instruments did not exist in primitive times which could execute any other. But I am speaking under correction; Mr. Reding seems to know more about the subject than I do." "I have always understood, as you say," answered Charles, "modern music did not come into existence till after the powers of the violin became known. Corelli himself, who wrote not two hundred years ago, hardly ventures on the shift. The piano, again, I have heard, has almost given birth to Beethoven." "Modern music, then, could not be in ancient times, for want of modern instruments," said Campbell; "and, in like manner, Gothic architecture could not exist until vaulting was brought to perfection. Great mechanical inventions have taken place, both in architecture and in music, since the age of basilicas and Gregorians; and each science has gained by it." "It is curious enough," said Reding, "one thing I have been accustomed to say, quite falls in with this view of yours. When people who are not musicians have accused Handel and Beethoven of not being _simple_, I have always said, 'Is Gothic architecture _simple_?' A cathedral expresses one idea, but it is indefinitely varied and elaborated in its parts; so is a symphony or quartett of Beethoven." "Certainly, Bateman, you must tolerate Pagan architecture, or you must in consistency exclude Pagan or Jewish Gregorians," said Campbell; "you must tolerate figured music, or reprobate tracery windows." "And which are you for," asked Bateman, "Gothic with Handel, or Roman with Gregorians?" "For both in their place," answered Campbell. "I exceedingly prefer Gothic architecture to classical. I think it the one true child and development of Christianity; but I won't, for that reason, discard the Pagan style which has been sanctified by eighteen centuries, by the exclusive love of many Christian countries, and by the sanction of a host of saints. I am for toleration. Give Gothic an ascendancy; be respectful towards classical." The conversation slackened. "Much as I like modern music," said Charles, "I can't quite go the length to which your doctrine would lead me. I cannot, indeed, help liking Mozart; but surely his music is not religious." "I have not been speaking in defence of particular composers," said Campbell; "figured music may be right, yet Mozart or Beethoven inadmissible. In like manner, you don't suppose, because I tolerate Roman architecture, that therefore I like naked cupids to stand for cherubs, and sprawling women for the cardinal virtues." He paused. "Besides," he added, "as you were saying yourself just now, we must consult the genius of our country and the religious associations of our people." "Well," said Bateman, "I think the perfection of sacred music is Gregorian set to harmonies; there you have the glorious old chants, and just a little modern richness." "And I think it just the worst of all," answered Campbell; "it is a mixture of two things, each good in itself, and incongruous together. It's a mixture of the first and second courses at table. It's like the architecture of the fa ade at Milan, half Gothic, half Grecian." "It's what is always used, I believe," said Charles. "Oh yes, we must not go against the age," said Campbell; "it would be absurd to do so. I only spoke of what was right and wrong on abstract principles; and, to tell the truth, I can't help liking the mixture myself, though I can't defend it." Bateman rang for tea; his friends wished to return home soon; it was the month of January, and no season for after-dinner strolls. "Well," he said, "Campbell, you are more lenient to the age than to me; you yield to the age when it sets a figured bass to a Gregorian tone; but you laugh at me for setting a coat upon a cassock." "It's no honour to be the author of a mongrel type," said Campbell. "A mongrel type?" said Bateman; "rather it is a transition state." "What are you passing to?" asked Charles. "Talking of transitions," said Campbell abruptly, "do you know that your man Willis--I don't know his college, he turned Romanist--is living in my parish, and I have hopes he is making a transition back again." "Have you seen him?" said Charles. "No; I have called, but was unfortunate; he was out. He still goes to mass, I find." "Why, where does he find a chapel?" asked Bateman. "At Seaton. A good seven miles from you," said Charles. "Yes," answered Campbell; "and he walks to and fro every Sunday." "That is not like a transition, except a physical one," observed Reding. "A person must go somewhere," answered Campbell; "I suppose he went to church up to the week he joined the Romanists." "Very awful, these defections," said Bateman; "but very satisfactory, a melancholy satisfaction," with a look at Charles, "that the victims of delusions should be at length recovered." "Yes," said Campbell; "very sad indeed. I am afraid we must expect a number more." "Well, I don't know how to think it," said Charles; "the hold our Church has on the mind is so powerful; it is such a wrench to leave it, I cannot fancy any party-tie standing against it. Humanly speaking, there is far, far more to keep them fast than to carry them away." "Yes, if they moved as a party," said Campbell; "but that is not the case. They don't move simply because others move, but, poor fellows, because they can't help it.--Bateman, will you let my chaise be brought round?--How _can_ they help it?" continued he, standing up over the fire; "their Catholic principles lead them on, and there's nothing to drive them back." "Why should not their love for their own Church?" asked Bateman; "it is deplorable, unpardonable." "They will keep going one after another, as they ripen," said Campbell. "Did you hear the report--I did not think much of it myself," said Reding,--"that Smith was moving?" "Not impossible," answered Campbell thoughtfully. "Impossible, quite impossible," cried Bateman; "such a triumph to the enemy; I'll not believe it till I see it." "_Not_ impossible," repeated Campbell, as he buttoned and fitted his great-coat about him; "he has shifted his ground." His carriage was announced. "Mr. Reding, I believe I can take you part of your way, if you will accept of a seat in my pony-chaise." Charles accepted the offer; and Bateman was soon deserted by his two guests. CHAPTER XVII. Campbell put Charles down about half-way between Melford and his home. It was bright moonlight; and, after thanking his new friend for the lift, he bounded over the stile at the side of the road, and was at once buried in the shade of the copse along which his path lay. Soon he came in sight of a tall wooden Cross, which, in better days, had been a religious emblem, but had served in latter times to mark the boundary between two contiguous parishes. The moon was behind him, and the sacred symbol rose awfully in the pale sky, overhanging a pool, which was still venerated in the neighbourhood for its reported miraculous virtue. Charles, to his surprise, saw distinctly a man kneeling on the little mound out of which the Cross grew; nay, heard him, for his shoulders were bare, and he was using the discipline upon them, while he repeated what appeared to be some form of devotion. Charles stopped, unwilling to interrupt, yet not knowing how to pass; but the stranger had caught the sound of feet, and in a few seconds vanished from his view. He was overcome with a sudden emotion, which he could not control. "O happy times," he cried, "when faith was one! O blessed penitent, whoever you are, who know what to believe, and how to gain pardon, and can begin where others end! Here am I, in my twenty-third year, uncertain about everything, because I have nothing to trust." He drew near to the Cross, took off his hat, knelt down and kissed the wood, and prayed awhile that whatever might be the consequences, whatever the trial, whatever the loss, he might have grace to follow whithersoever God should call him. He then rose and turned to the cold well; he took some water in his palm and drank it. He felt as if he could have prayed to the Saint who owned that pool--St. Thomas the Martyr, he believed--to plead for him, and to aid him in his search after the true faith; but something whispered, "It is wrong;" and he checked the wish. So, regaining his hat, he passed away, and pursued his homeward path at a brisk pace. The family had retired for the night, and he went up without delay to his bedroom. Passing through his study, he found a letter lying on his table, without post-mark, which had come for him in his absence. He broke the seal; it was an anonymous paper, and began as follows:-- "_Questions for one whom it concerns._ 1. What is meant by the One Church of which the Creed speaks?" "This is too much for to-night," thought Charles, "it is late already;" and he folded it up again and threw it on his dressing-table. "Some well-meaning person, I dare say, who thinks he knows me." He wound up his watch, gave a yawn, and put on his slippers. "Who can there be in this neighbourhood to write it?" He opened it again. "It's certainly a Catholic's writing," he said. His mind glanced to the person whom he had seen under the Cross; perhaps it glanced further. He sat down and began reading _in extenso:_-- "_Questions for one whom it concerns._ 1. What is meant by the One Church of which the Creed speaks? 2. Is it a generalization or a thing? 3. Does it belong to past history or to the present time? 4. Does not Scripture speak of it as a kingdom? 5. And a kingdom which was to last to the end? 6. What is a kingdom? and what is meant when Scripture calls the Church a kingdom? 7. Is it a visible kingdom, or an invisible? 8. Can a kingdom have two governments, and these acting in contrary directions? 9. Is identity of institutions, opinions, or race, sufficient to make two nations one kingdom? 10. Is the Episcopal form, the hierarchy, or the Apostles' Creed, sufficient to make the Churches of Rome and of England one? 11. Where there are parts, does not unity require union, and a visible unity require a visible union? 12. How can two religions be the same which have utterly distinct worships and ideas of worship? 13. Can two religions be one, if the most sacred and peculiar act of worship in the one is called 'a blasphemous fable and dangerous deceit' in the other? 14. Has not the One Church of Christ one faith? 15. Can a Church be Christ's which has not one faith? 16. Which is contradictory to itself in its documents? 17. And in different centuries? 18. And in its documents contrasted with its divines? 19. And in its divines and members one with another? 20. What is _the_ faith of the English Church? 21. How many Councils does the English Church admit? 22. Does the English Church consider the present Nestorian and Jacobite Churches under an anathema, or part of the visible Church? 23. Is it necessary, or possible, to believe any one but a professed messenger from God? 24. Is the English Church, does she claim to be, a messenger from God? 25. Does she impart the truth, or bid us seek it? 26. If she leaves us to seek it, do members of the English Church seek it with that earnestness which Scripture enjoins? 27. Is a person safe who lives without faith, even though he seems to have hope and charity?" Charles got very sleepy before he reached the "twenty-seventhly." "It won't do," he said; "I am only losing my time. They seem well put; but they must stand over." He put the paper from him, said his prayers, and was soon fast asleep. Next morning, on waking, the subject of the letter came into his mind, and he lay for some time thinking over it. "Certainly," he said, "I do wish very much to be settled either in the English Church or somewhere else. I wish I knew _what_ Christianity was; I am ready to be at pains to seek it, and would accept it eagerly and thankfully, if found. But it's a work of time; all the paper-arguments in the world are unequal to giving one a view in a moment. There must be a process; they may shorten it, as medicine shortens physical processes, but they can't supersede its necessity. I recollect how all my religious doubts and theories went to flight on my dear father's death. They weren't part of me, and could not sustain rough weather. Conviction is the eyesight of the mind, not a conclusion from premises; God works it, and His works are slow. At least so it is with me. I can't believe on a sudden; if I attempt it, I shall be using words for things, and be sure to repent it. Or if not, I shall go right merely by hazard. I must move in what seems God's way; I can but put myself on the road; a higher power must overtake me, and carry me forward. At present I have a direct duty upon me, which my dear father left me, to take a good class. This is the path of duty. I won't put off the inquiry, but I'll let it proceed in that path. God can bless my reading to my spiritual illumination, as well as anything else. Saul sought his father's asses, and found a kingdom. All in good time. When I have taken my degree the subject will properly come on me." He sighed. "My degree! those odious Articles! rather, when I have passed my examination. Well, it's no good lying here;" and he jumped up, and signed himself with the Cross. His eye caught the letter. "It's well written--better than Willis could write; it's not Willis's. There's something about that Willis I don't understand. I wonder how he and his mother get on together. I don't think he _has_ any sisters." CHAPTER XVIII. Campbell had been much pleased with Reding, and his interest in him was not lessened by a hint from Bateman that his allegiance to the English Church was in danger. He called on him in no long time, asked him to dinner, and, when Charles had returned his invitation, and Campbell had accepted it, the beginning of an acquaintance was formed between the rectory at Sutton and the family at Boughton which grew into an intimacy as time went on. Campbell was a gentleman, a travelled man, of clear head and ardent mind, candid, well-read in English divinity, a devoted Anglican, and the incumbent of a living so well endowed as almost to be a dignity. Mary was pleased at the introduction, as bringing her brother under the influence of an intellect which he could not make light of; and, as Campbell had a carriage, it was natural that he should wish to save Charles the loss of a day's reading and the trouble of a muddy walk to the rectory and back by coming over himself to Boughton. Accordingly it so happened that he saw Charles twice at his mother's for once that he saw him at Sutton. But whatever came of these visits, nothing occurred which particularly bears upon the line of our narrative; so let them pass. One day Charles called upon Bateman, and, on entering the room, was surprised to see him and Campbell at luncheon, and in conversation with a third person. There was a moment's surprise and hesitation on seeing him before they rose and welcomed him as usual. When he looked at the stranger he felt a slight awkwardness himself, which he could not control. It was Willis; and apparently submitted to the process of reconversion. Charles was evidently _de trop_, but there was no help for it; so he shook hands with Willis, and accepted the pressing call of Bateman to seat himself at table, and to share their bread and cheese. Charles sat down opposite Willis, and for a while could not keep his eyes from him. At first he had some difficulty in believing he had before him the impetuous youth he had known two years and a half before. He had always been silent in general company; but in that he was changed, as in everything else. Not that he talked more than was natural, but he talked freely and easily. The great change, however, was in his appearance and manner. He had lost his bloom and youthfulness; his expression was sweeter indeed than before, and very placid, but there was a thin line down his face on each side of his mouth; his cheeks were wanting in fulness, and he had the air of a man of thirty. When he entered into conversation, and became animated, his former self returned. "I suppose we may all admire this cream at this season," said Charles, as he helped himself, "for we are none of us Devonshire men." "It's not peculiar to Devonshire," answered Campbell; "that is, they have it abroad. At Rome there is a sort of cream or cheese very like it, and very common." "Will butter and cream keep in so warm a climate?" asked Charles; "I fancied oil was the substitute." "Rome is not so warm as you fancy," said Willis, "except during the summer." "Oil? so it is," said Campbell; "thus we read in Scripture of the multiplication of the oil and meal, which seems to answer to bread and butter. The oil in Rome is excellent, so clear and pale; you can eat it as milk." "The taste, I suppose, is peculiar," observed Charles. "Just at first," answered Campbell; "but one soon gets used to it. All such substances, milk, butter, cheese, oil, have a particular taste at first, which use alone gets over. The rich Guernsey butter is too much for strangers, while Russians relish whale-oil. Most of our tastes are in a measure artificial." "It is certainly so with vegetables," said Willis; "when I was a boy I could not eat beans, spinach, asparagus, parsnips, and I think some others." "Therefore your hermit's fare is not only the most natural, but the only naturally palatable, I suppose,--a crust of bread and a draught from the stream," replied Campbell. "Or the Clerk of Copmanhurst's dry peas," said Charles. "The macaroni and grapes of the Neapolitans are as natural and more palatable," said Willis. "Rather they are a luxury," said Bateman. "No," answered Campbell, "not a luxury; a luxury is in its very idea a something _recherch _. Thus Horace speaks of the '_peregrina lagois_.' What nature yields _sponte su _ around you, however delicious, is no luxury. Wild ducks are no luxury in your old neighbourhood, amid your Oxford fens, Bateman; nor grapes at Naples." "Then the old women here are luxurious over their sixpenn'rth of tea," said Bateman; "for it comes from China." Campbell was posed for an instant. Somehow neither he nor Bateman were quite at their ease, whether with themselves or with each other; it might be Charles's sudden intrusion, or something which had happened before it. Campbell answered at length that steamers and railroads were making strange changes; that time and place were vanishing, and price would soon be the only measure of luxury. "This seems the measure also of _grasso_ and _magro_ food in Italy," said Willis; "for I think there are dispensations for butcher's meat in Lent, in consequence of the dearness of bread and oil." "This seems to show that the age for abstinences and fastings is past," observed Campbell; "for it's absurd to keep Lent on beef and mutton." "Oh, Campbell, what are you saying?" cried Bateman; "past! are we bound by their lax ways in Italy?" "I do certainly think," answered Campbell, "that fasting is unsuitable to this age, in England as well as in Rome." "Take care, my fine fellows," thought Charles; "keep your ranks, or you won't secure your prisoner." "What, not fast on Friday!" cried Bateman; "we always did so most rigidly at Oxford." "It does you credit," answered Campbell; "but I am of Cambridge." "But what do you say to Rubrics and the Calendar?" insisted Bateman. "They are not binding," answered Campbell. "They _are_, binding," said Bateman. A pause, as between the rounds of a boxing-match. Reding interposed: "Bateman, cut me, please, a bit of your capital bread--home-made, I suppose?" "A thousand pardons!" said Bateman:--"not binding?--Pass it to him, Willis, if you please. Yes, it comes from a farmer, next door. I'm glad you like it.--I repeat, they _are_ binding, Campbell." "An odd sort of binding, when they have never bound," answered Campbell; "they have existed two or three hundred years; when were they ever put in force?" "But there they are," said Bateman, "in the Prayer Book." "Yes, and there let them lie and never get out of it," retorted Campbell; "there they will stay till the end of the story." "Oh, for shame!" cried Bateman; "you should aid your mother in a difficulty, and not be like the priest and the Levite." "My mother does not wish to be aided," continued Campbell. "Oh, how you talk! What shall I do? What can be done?" cried poor Bateman. "Done! nothing," said Campbell; "is there no such thing as the desuetude of a law? Does not a law cease to be binding when it is not enforced? I appeal to Mr. Willis." Willis, thus addressed, answered that he was no moral theologian, but he had attended some schools, and he believed it was the Catholic rule that when a law had been promulgated, and was not observed by the majority, if the legislator knew the state of the case, and yet kept silence, he was considered _ipso facto_ to revoke it. "What!" said Bateman to Campbell, "do you appeal to the Romish Church?" "No," answered Campbell; "I appeal to the whole Catholic Church, of which the Church of Rome happens in this particular case to be the exponent. It is plain common sense, that, if a law is not enforced, at length it ceases to be binding. Else it would be quite a tyranny; we should not know where we were. The Church of Rome does but give expression to this common-sense view." "Well, then," said Bateman, "I will appeal to the Church of Rome too. Rome is part of the Catholic Church as well as we: since, then, the Romish Church has ever kept up fastings the ordinance is not abolished; the 'greater part' of the Catholic Church has always observed it." "But it has not," said Campbell; "it now dispenses with fasts, as you have heard." Willis interposed to ask a question. "Do you mean then," he said to Bateman, "that the Church of England and the Church of Rome make one Church?" "Most certainly," answered Bateman. "Is it possible?" said Willis; "in what sense of the word _one_?" "In every sense," answered Bateman, "but that of intercommunion." "That is, I suppose," said Willis, "they are one, except that they have no intercourse with each other." Bateman assented. Willis continued: "No intercourse; that is, no social dealings, no consulting or arranging, no ordering and obeying, no mutual support; in short, no visible union." Bateman still assented. "Well, that is my difficulty," said Willis; "I can't understand how two parts can make up one visible body if they are not visibly united; unity implies _union_." "I don't see that at all," said Bateman; "I don't see that at all. No, Willis, you must not expect I shall give that up to you; it is one of our points. There is only one visible Church, and therefore the English and Romish Churches are both parts of it." Campbell saw clearly that Bateman had got into a difficulty, and he came to the rescue in his own way. "We must distinguish," he said, "the state of the case more exactly. A kingdom may be divided, it may be distracted by parties, by dissensions, yet be still a kingdom. That, I conceive, is the real condition of the Church; in this way the Churches of England, Rome, and Greece are one." "I suppose you will grant," said Willis, "that in proportion as a rebellion is strong, so is the unity of the kingdom threatened; and if a rebellion is successful, or if the parties in a civil war manage to divide the power and territory between them, then forthwith, instead of one kingdom, we have two. Ten or fifteen years since, Belgium was part of the kingdom of the Netherlands: I suppose you would not call it part of that kingdom now? This seems the case of the Churches of Rome and England." "Still, a kingdom may be in a state of decay," replied Campbell; "consider the case of the Turkish Empire at this moment. The Union between its separate portions is so languid, that each separate Pasha may almost be termed a separate sovereign; still it is one kingdom." "The Church, then, at present," said Willis, "is a kingdom tending to dissolution?" "Certainly it is," answered Campbell. "And will ultimately fail?" asked Willis. "Certainly," said Campbell; "when the end comes, according to our Lord's saying, 'When the Son of man cometh, shall He find faith on the earth?' just as in the case of the chosen people, the sceptre failed from Judah when the Shiloh came." "Surely the Church has failed already _before_ the end," said Willis, "according to the view you take of failing. How _can_ any separation be more complete than exists at present between Rome, Greece, and England?" "They might excommunicate each other," said Campbell. "Then you are willing," said Willis, "to assign beforehand something definite, the occurrence of which will constitute a real separation." "Don't do so," said Reding to Campbell; "it is dangerous; don't commit yourself in a moral question; for then, if the thing specified did occur, it would be difficult to see our way." "No," said Willis; "you certainly _would_ be in a difficulty; but you would find your way out, I know. In that case you would choose some other _ultimatum_ as your test of schism. There would be," he added, speaking with some emotion, "'in the lowest depth a lower still.'" The concluding words were out of keeping with the tone of the conversation hitherto, and fairly excited Bateman, who, for some time, had been an impatient listener. "That's a dangerous line, Campbell," he said, "it is indeed; I can't go along with you. It will never do to say that the Church is failing; no, it never fails. It is always strong, and pure, and perfect, as the Prophets describe it. Look at its cathedrals, abbey-churches, and other sanctuaries, these fitly typify it." "My dear Bateman," answered Campbell, "I am as willing as you to maintain the fulfilment of the prophecies made to the Church, but we must allow the _fact_ that the branches of the Church are _divided_, while we maintain the _doctrine_, that the Church should be one." "I don't see that at all," answered Bateman; "no, we need not allow it. There's no such thing as Churches, there's but one Church everywhere, and it is _not_ divided. It is merely the outward forms, appearances, manifestations of the Church that are divided. The Church is one as much as ever it was." "That will never do," said Campbell; and he stood up before the fire in

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How many times the word 'mark' appears in the text?

Both existed before Christianity; both are of Pagan origin; both were afterwards consecrated to the service of the Church." "Pardon me," interrupted Bateman, "Gregorians were Jewish, not Pagan." "Be it so, for argument sake," said Campbell; "still, at least, they were not of Christian origin. Next, both the old music and the old architecture were inartificial and limited, as methods of exhibiting their respective arts. You can't have a large Grecian temple, you can't have a long Gregorian _Gloria_." "Not a long one!" said Bateman; "why there's poor Willis used to complain how tedious the old Gregorian compositions were abroad." "I don't explain myself," answered Campbell; "of course you may produce them to any length, but merely by addition, not by carrying on the melody. You can put two together, and then have one twice as long as either. But I speak of a musical piece, which must of course be the natural development of certain ideas, with one part depending on another. In like manner, you might make an Ionic temple twice as long or twice as wide as the Parthenon; but you would lose the beauty of proportion by doing so. This, then, is what I meant to say of the primitive architecture and the primitive music, that they soon come to their limit; they soon are exhausted, and can do nothing more. If you attempt more, it's like taxing a musical instrument beyond its powers." "You but try, Bateman," said Reding, "to make a bass play quadrilles, and you will see what is meant by taxing an instrument." "Well, I have heard Lindley play all sorts of quick tunes on his bass," said Bateman, "and most wonderful it is." "Wonderful is the right word," answered Reding; "it is very wonderful. You say, 'How _can_ he manage it?' and 'It's very wonderful for a bass;' but it is not pleasant in itself. In like manner, I have always felt a disgust when Mr. So-and-so comes forward to make his sweet flute bleat and bray like a hautbois; it's forcing the poor thing to do what it was never made for." "This is literally true as regards Gregorian music," said Campbell; "instruments did not exist in primitive times which could execute any other. But I am speaking under correction; Mr. Reding seems to know more about the subject than I do." "I have always understood, as you say," answered Charles, "modern music did not come into existence till after the powers of the violin became known. Corelli himself, who wrote not two hundred years ago, hardly ventures on the shift. The piano, again, I have heard, has almost given birth to Beethoven." "Modern music, then, could not be in ancient times, for want of modern instruments," said Campbell; "and, in like manner, Gothic architecture could not exist until vaulting was brought to perfection. Great mechanical inventions have taken place, both in architecture and in music, since the age of basilicas and Gregorians; and each science has gained by it." "It is curious enough," said Reding, "one thing I have been accustomed to say, quite falls in with this view of yours. When people who are not musicians have accused Handel and Beethoven of not being _simple_, I have always said, 'Is Gothic architecture _simple_?' A cathedral expresses one idea, but it is indefinitely varied and elaborated in its parts; so is a symphony or quartett of Beethoven." "Certainly, Bateman, you must tolerate Pagan architecture, or you must in consistency exclude Pagan or Jewish Gregorians," said Campbell; "you must tolerate figured music, or reprobate tracery windows." "And which are you for," asked Bateman, "Gothic with Handel, or Roman with Gregorians?" "For both in their place," answered Campbell. "I exceedingly prefer Gothic architecture to classical. I think it the one true child and development of Christianity; but I won't, for that reason, discard the Pagan style which has been sanctified by eighteen centuries, by the exclusive love of many Christian countries, and by the sanction of a host of saints. I am for toleration. Give Gothic an ascendancy; be respectful towards classical." The conversation slackened. "Much as I like modern music," said Charles, "I can't quite go the length to which your doctrine would lead me. I cannot, indeed, help liking Mozart; but surely his music is not religious." "I have not been speaking in defence of particular composers," said Campbell; "figured music may be right, yet Mozart or Beethoven inadmissible. In like manner, you don't suppose, because I tolerate Roman architecture, that therefore I like naked cupids to stand for cherubs, and sprawling women for the cardinal virtues." He paused. "Besides," he added, "as you were saying yourself just now, we must consult the genius of our country and the religious associations of our people." "Well," said Bateman, "I think the perfection of sacred music is Gregorian set to harmonies; there you have the glorious old chants, and just a little modern richness." "And I think it just the worst of all," answered Campbell; "it is a mixture of two things, each good in itself, and incongruous together. It's a mixture of the first and second courses at table. It's like the architecture of the fa ade at Milan, half Gothic, half Grecian." "It's what is always used, I believe," said Charles. "Oh yes, we must not go against the age," said Campbell; "it would be absurd to do so. I only spoke of what was right and wrong on abstract principles; and, to tell the truth, I can't help liking the mixture myself, though I can't defend it." Bateman rang for tea; his friends wished to return home soon; it was the month of January, and no season for after-dinner strolls. "Well," he said, "Campbell, you are more lenient to the age than to me; you yield to the age when it sets a figured bass to a Gregorian tone; but you laugh at me for setting a coat upon a cassock." "It's no honour to be the author of a mongrel type," said Campbell. "A mongrel type?" said Bateman; "rather it is a transition state." "What are you passing to?" asked Charles. "Talking of transitions," said Campbell abruptly, "do you know that your man Willis--I don't know his college, he turned Romanist--is living in my parish, and I have hopes he is making a transition back again." "Have you seen him?" said Charles. "No; I have called, but was unfortunate; he was out. He still goes to mass, I find." "Why, where does he find a chapel?" asked Bateman. "At Seaton. A good seven miles from you," said Charles. "Yes," answered Campbell; "and he walks to and fro every Sunday." "That is not like a transition, except a physical one," observed Reding. "A person must go somewhere," answered Campbell; "I suppose he went to church up to the week he joined the Romanists." "Very awful, these defections," said Bateman; "but very satisfactory, a melancholy satisfaction," with a look at Charles, "that the victims of delusions should be at length recovered." "Yes," said Campbell; "very sad indeed. I am afraid we must expect a number more." "Well, I don't know how to think it," said Charles; "the hold our Church has on the mind is so powerful; it is such a wrench to leave it, I cannot fancy any party-tie standing against it. Humanly speaking, there is far, far more to keep them fast than to carry them away." "Yes, if they moved as a party," said Campbell; "but that is not the case. They don't move simply because others move, but, poor fellows, because they can't help it.--Bateman, will you let my chaise be brought round?--How _can_ they help it?" continued he, standing up over the fire; "their Catholic principles lead them on, and there's nothing to drive them back." "Why should not their love for their own Church?" asked Bateman; "it is deplorable, unpardonable." "They will keep going one after another, as they ripen," said Campbell. "Did you hear the report--I did not think much of it myself," said Reding,--"that Smith was moving?" "Not impossible," answered Campbell thoughtfully. "Impossible, quite impossible," cried Bateman; "such a triumph to the enemy; I'll not believe it till I see it." "_Not_ impossible," repeated Campbell, as he buttoned and fitted his great-coat about him; "he has shifted his ground." His carriage was announced. "Mr. Reding, I believe I can take you part of your way, if you will accept of a seat in my pony-chaise." Charles accepted the offer; and Bateman was soon deserted by his two guests. CHAPTER XVII. Campbell put Charles down about half-way between Melford and his home. It was bright moonlight; and, after thanking his new friend for the lift, he bounded over the stile at the side of the road, and was at once buried in the shade of the copse along which his path lay. Soon he came in sight of a tall wooden Cross, which, in better days, had been a religious emblem, but had served in latter times to mark the boundary between two contiguous parishes. The moon was behind him, and the sacred symbol rose awfully in the pale sky, overhanging a pool, which was still venerated in the neighbourhood for its reported miraculous virtue. Charles, to his surprise, saw distinctly a man kneeling on the little mound out of which the Cross grew; nay, heard him, for his shoulders were bare, and he was using the discipline upon them, while he repeated what appeared to be some form of devotion. Charles stopped, unwilling to interrupt, yet not knowing how to pass; but the stranger had caught the sound of feet, and in a few seconds vanished from his view. He was overcome with a sudden emotion, which he could not control. "O happy times," he cried, "when faith was one! O blessed penitent, whoever you are, who know what to believe, and how to gain pardon, and can begin where others end! Here am I, in my twenty-third year, uncertain about everything, because I have nothing to trust." He drew near to the Cross, took off his hat, knelt down and kissed the wood, and prayed awhile that whatever might be the consequences, whatever the trial, whatever the loss, he might have grace to follow whithersoever God should call him. He then rose and turned to the cold well; he took some water in his palm and drank it. He felt as if he could have prayed to the Saint who owned that pool--St. Thomas the Martyr, he believed--to plead for him, and to aid him in his search after the true faith; but something whispered, "It is wrong;" and he checked the wish. So, regaining his hat, he passed away, and pursued his homeward path at a brisk pace. The family had retired for the night, and he went up without delay to his bedroom. Passing through his study, he found a letter lying on his table, without post-mark, which had come for him in his absence. He broke the seal; it was an anonymous paper, and began as follows:-- "_Questions for one whom it concerns._ 1. What is meant by the One Church of which the Creed speaks?" "This is too much for to-night," thought Charles, "it is late already;" and he folded it up again and threw it on his dressing-table. "Some well-meaning person, I dare say, who thinks he knows me." He wound up his watch, gave a yawn, and put on his slippers. "Who can there be in this neighbourhood to write it?" He opened it again. "It's certainly a Catholic's writing," he said. His mind glanced to the person whom he had seen under the Cross; perhaps it glanced further. He sat down and began reading _in extenso:_-- "_Questions for one whom it concerns._ 1. What is meant by the One Church of which the Creed speaks? 2. Is it a generalization or a thing? 3. Does it belong to past history or to the present time? 4. Does not Scripture speak of it as a kingdom? 5. And a kingdom which was to last to the end? 6. What is a kingdom? and what is meant when Scripture calls the Church a kingdom? 7. Is it a visible kingdom, or an invisible? 8. Can a kingdom have two governments, and these acting in contrary directions? 9. Is identity of institutions, opinions, or race, sufficient to make two nations one kingdom? 10. Is the Episcopal form, the hierarchy, or the Apostles' Creed, sufficient to make the Churches of Rome and of England one? 11. Where there are parts, does not unity require union, and a visible unity require a visible union? 12. How can two religions be the same which have utterly distinct worships and ideas of worship? 13. Can two religions be one, if the most sacred and peculiar act of worship in the one is called 'a blasphemous fable and dangerous deceit' in the other? 14. Has not the One Church of Christ one faith? 15. Can a Church be Christ's which has not one faith? 16. Which is contradictory to itself in its documents? 17. And in different centuries? 18. And in its documents contrasted with its divines? 19. And in its divines and members one with another? 20. What is _the_ faith of the English Church? 21. How many Councils does the English Church admit? 22. Does the English Church consider the present Nestorian and Jacobite Churches under an anathema, or part of the visible Church? 23. Is it necessary, or possible, to believe any one but a professed messenger from God? 24. Is the English Church, does she claim to be, a messenger from God? 25. Does she impart the truth, or bid us seek it? 26. If she leaves us to seek it, do members of the English Church seek it with that earnestness which Scripture enjoins? 27. Is a person safe who lives without faith, even though he seems to have hope and charity?" Charles got very sleepy before he reached the "twenty-seventhly." "It won't do," he said; "I am only losing my time. They seem well put; but they must stand over." He put the paper from him, said his prayers, and was soon fast asleep. Next morning, on waking, the subject of the letter came into his mind, and he lay for some time thinking over it. "Certainly," he said, "I do wish very much to be settled either in the English Church or somewhere else. I wish I knew _what_ Christianity was; I am ready to be at pains to seek it, and would accept it eagerly and thankfully, if found. But it's a work of time; all the paper-arguments in the world are unequal to giving one a view in a moment. There must be a process; they may shorten it, as medicine shortens physical processes, but they can't supersede its necessity. I recollect how all my religious doubts and theories went to flight on my dear father's death. They weren't part of me, and could not sustain rough weather. Conviction is the eyesight of the mind, not a conclusion from premises; God works it, and His works are slow. At least so it is with me. I can't believe on a sudden; if I attempt it, I shall be using words for things, and be sure to repent it. Or if not, I shall go right merely by hazard. I must move in what seems God's way; I can but put myself on the road; a higher power must overtake me, and carry me forward. At present I have a direct duty upon me, which my dear father left me, to take a good class. This is the path of duty. I won't put off the inquiry, but I'll let it proceed in that path. God can bless my reading to my spiritual illumination, as well as anything else. Saul sought his father's asses, and found a kingdom. All in good time. When I have taken my degree the subject will properly come on me." He sighed. "My degree! those odious Articles! rather, when I have passed my examination. Well, it's no good lying here;" and he jumped up, and signed himself with the Cross. His eye caught the letter. "It's well written--better than Willis could write; it's not Willis's. There's something about that Willis I don't understand. I wonder how he and his mother get on together. I don't think he _has_ any sisters." CHAPTER XVIII. Campbell had been much pleased with Reding, and his interest in him was not lessened by a hint from Bateman that his allegiance to the English Church was in danger. He called on him in no long time, asked him to dinner, and, when Charles had returned his invitation, and Campbell had accepted it, the beginning of an acquaintance was formed between the rectory at Sutton and the family at Boughton which grew into an intimacy as time went on. Campbell was a gentleman, a travelled man, of clear head and ardent mind, candid, well-read in English divinity, a devoted Anglican, and the incumbent of a living so well endowed as almost to be a dignity. Mary was pleased at the introduction, as bringing her brother under the influence of an intellect which he could not make light of; and, as Campbell had a carriage, it was natural that he should wish to save Charles the loss of a day's reading and the trouble of a muddy walk to the rectory and back by coming over himself to Boughton. Accordingly it so happened that he saw Charles twice at his mother's for once that he saw him at Sutton. But whatever came of these visits, nothing occurred which particularly bears upon the line of our narrative; so let them pass. One day Charles called upon Bateman, and, on entering the room, was surprised to see him and Campbell at luncheon, and in conversation with a third person. There was a moment's surprise and hesitation on seeing him before they rose and welcomed him as usual. When he looked at the stranger he felt a slight awkwardness himself, which he could not control. It was Willis; and apparently submitted to the process of reconversion. Charles was evidently _de trop_, but there was no help for it; so he shook hands with Willis, and accepted the pressing call of Bateman to seat himself at table, and to share their bread and cheese. Charles sat down opposite Willis, and for a while could not keep his eyes from him. At first he had some difficulty in believing he had before him the impetuous youth he had known two years and a half before. He had always been silent in general company; but in that he was changed, as in everything else. Not that he talked more than was natural, but he talked freely and easily. The great change, however, was in his appearance and manner. He had lost his bloom and youthfulness; his expression was sweeter indeed than before, and very placid, but there was a thin line down his face on each side of his mouth; his cheeks were wanting in fulness, and he had the air of a man of thirty. When he entered into conversation, and became animated, his former self returned. "I suppose we may all admire this cream at this season," said Charles, as he helped himself, "for we are none of us Devonshire men." "It's not peculiar to Devonshire," answered Campbell; "that is, they have it abroad. At Rome there is a sort of cream or cheese very like it, and very common." "Will butter and cream keep in so warm a climate?" asked Charles; "I fancied oil was the substitute." "Rome is not so warm as you fancy," said Willis, "except during the summer." "Oil? so it is," said Campbell; "thus we read in Scripture of the multiplication of the oil and meal, which seems to answer to bread and butter. The oil in Rome is excellent, so clear and pale; you can eat it as milk." "The taste, I suppose, is peculiar," observed Charles. "Just at first," answered Campbell; "but one soon gets used to it. All such substances, milk, butter, cheese, oil, have a particular taste at first, which use alone gets over. The rich Guernsey butter is too much for strangers, while Russians relish whale-oil. Most of our tastes are in a measure artificial." "It is certainly so with vegetables," said Willis; "when I was a boy I could not eat beans, spinach, asparagus, parsnips, and I think some others." "Therefore your hermit's fare is not only the most natural, but the only naturally palatable, I suppose,--a crust of bread and a draught from the stream," replied Campbell. "Or the Clerk of Copmanhurst's dry peas," said Charles. "The macaroni and grapes of the Neapolitans are as natural and more palatable," said Willis. "Rather they are a luxury," said Bateman. "No," answered Campbell, "not a luxury; a luxury is in its very idea a something _recherch _. Thus Horace speaks of the '_peregrina lagois_.' What nature yields _sponte su _ around you, however delicious, is no luxury. Wild ducks are no luxury in your old neighbourhood, amid your Oxford fens, Bateman; nor grapes at Naples." "Then the old women here are luxurious over their sixpenn'rth of tea," said Bateman; "for it comes from China." Campbell was posed for an instant. Somehow neither he nor Bateman were quite at their ease, whether with themselves or with each other; it might be Charles's sudden intrusion, or something which had happened before it. Campbell answered at length that steamers and railroads were making strange changes; that time and place were vanishing, and price would soon be the only measure of luxury. "This seems the measure also of _grasso_ and _magro_ food in Italy," said Willis; "for I think there are dispensations for butcher's meat in Lent, in consequence of the dearness of bread and oil." "This seems to show that the age for abstinences and fastings is past," observed Campbell; "for it's absurd to keep Lent on beef and mutton." "Oh, Campbell, what are you saying?" cried Bateman; "past! are we bound by their lax ways in Italy?" "I do certainly think," answered Campbell, "that fasting is unsuitable to this age, in England as well as in Rome." "Take care, my fine fellows," thought Charles; "keep your ranks, or you won't secure your prisoner." "What, not fast on Friday!" cried Bateman; "we always did so most rigidly at Oxford." "It does you credit," answered Campbell; "but I am of Cambridge." "But what do you say to Rubrics and the Calendar?" insisted Bateman. "They are not binding," answered Campbell. "They _are_, binding," said Bateman. A pause, as between the rounds of a boxing-match. Reding interposed: "Bateman, cut me, please, a bit of your capital bread--home-made, I suppose?" "A thousand pardons!" said Bateman:--"not binding?--Pass it to him, Willis, if you please. Yes, it comes from a farmer, next door. I'm glad you like it.--I repeat, they _are_ binding, Campbell." "An odd sort of binding, when they have never bound," answered Campbell; "they have existed two or three hundred years; when were they ever put in force?" "But there they are," said Bateman, "in the Prayer Book." "Yes, and there let them lie and never get out of it," retorted Campbell; "there they will stay till the end of the story." "Oh, for shame!" cried Bateman; "you should aid your mother in a difficulty, and not be like the priest and the Levite." "My mother does not wish to be aided," continued Campbell. "Oh, how you talk! What shall I do? What can be done?" cried poor Bateman. "Done! nothing," said Campbell; "is there no such thing as the desuetude of a law? Does not a law cease to be binding when it is not enforced? I appeal to Mr. Willis." Willis, thus addressed, answered that he was no moral theologian, but he had attended some schools, and he believed it was the Catholic rule that when a law had been promulgated, and was not observed by the majority, if the legislator knew the state of the case, and yet kept silence, he was considered _ipso facto_ to revoke it. "What!" said Bateman to Campbell, "do you appeal to the Romish Church?" "No," answered Campbell; "I appeal to the whole Catholic Church, of which the Church of Rome happens in this particular case to be the exponent. It is plain common sense, that, if a law is not enforced, at length it ceases to be binding. Else it would be quite a tyranny; we should not know where we were. The Church of Rome does but give expression to this common-sense view." "Well, then," said Bateman, "I will appeal to the Church of Rome too. Rome is part of the Catholic Church as well as we: since, then, the Romish Church has ever kept up fastings the ordinance is not abolished; the 'greater part' of the Catholic Church has always observed it." "But it has not," said Campbell; "it now dispenses with fasts, as you have heard." Willis interposed to ask a question. "Do you mean then," he said to Bateman, "that the Church of England and the Church of Rome make one Church?" "Most certainly," answered Bateman. "Is it possible?" said Willis; "in what sense of the word _one_?" "In every sense," answered Bateman, "but that of intercommunion." "That is, I suppose," said Willis, "they are one, except that they have no intercourse with each other." Bateman assented. Willis continued: "No intercourse; that is, no social dealings, no consulting or arranging, no ordering and obeying, no mutual support; in short, no visible union." Bateman still assented. "Well, that is my difficulty," said Willis; "I can't understand how two parts can make up one visible body if they are not visibly united; unity implies _union_." "I don't see that at all," said Bateman; "I don't see that at all. No, Willis, you must not expect I shall give that up to you; it is one of our points. There is only one visible Church, and therefore the English and Romish Churches are both parts of it." Campbell saw clearly that Bateman had got into a difficulty, and he came to the rescue in his own way. "We must distinguish," he said, "the state of the case more exactly. A kingdom may be divided, it may be distracted by parties, by dissensions, yet be still a kingdom. That, I conceive, is the real condition of the Church; in this way the Churches of England, Rome, and Greece are one." "I suppose you will grant," said Willis, "that in proportion as a rebellion is strong, so is the unity of the kingdom threatened; and if a rebellion is successful, or if the parties in a civil war manage to divide the power and territory between them, then forthwith, instead of one kingdom, we have two. Ten or fifteen years since, Belgium was part of the kingdom of the Netherlands: I suppose you would not call it part of that kingdom now? This seems the case of the Churches of Rome and England." "Still, a kingdom may be in a state of decay," replied Campbell; "consider the case of the Turkish Empire at this moment. The Union between its separate portions is so languid, that each separate Pasha may almost be termed a separate sovereign; still it is one kingdom." "The Church, then, at present," said Willis, "is a kingdom tending to dissolution?" "Certainly it is," answered Campbell. "And will ultimately fail?" asked Willis. "Certainly," said Campbell; "when the end comes, according to our Lord's saying, 'When the Son of man cometh, shall He find faith on the earth?' just as in the case of the chosen people, the sceptre failed from Judah when the Shiloh came." "Surely the Church has failed already _before_ the end," said Willis, "according to the view you take of failing. How _can_ any separation be more complete than exists at present between Rome, Greece, and England?" "They might excommunicate each other," said Campbell. "Then you are willing," said Willis, "to assign beforehand something definite, the occurrence of which will constitute a real separation." "Don't do so," said Reding to Campbell; "it is dangerous; don't commit yourself in a moral question; for then, if the thing specified did occur, it would be difficult to see our way." "No," said Willis; "you certainly _would_ be in a difficulty; but you would find your way out, I know. In that case you would choose some other _ultimatum_ as your test of schism. There would be," he added, speaking with some emotion, "'in the lowest depth a lower still.'" The concluding words were out of keeping with the tone of the conversation hitherto, and fairly excited Bateman, who, for some time, had been an impatient listener. "That's a dangerous line, Campbell," he said, "it is indeed; I can't go along with you. It will never do to say that the Church is failing; no, it never fails. It is always strong, and pure, and perfect, as the Prophets describe it. Look at its cathedrals, abbey-churches, and other sanctuaries, these fitly typify it." "My dear Bateman," answered Campbell, "I am as willing as you to maintain the fulfilment of the prophecies made to the Church, but we must allow the _fact_ that the branches of the Church are _divided_, while we maintain the _doctrine_, that the Church should be one." "I don't see that at all," answered Bateman; "no, we need not allow it. There's no such thing as Churches, there's but one Church everywhere, and it is _not_ divided. It is merely the outward forms, appearances, manifestations of the Church that are divided. The Church is one as much as ever it was." "That will never do," said Campbell; and he stood up before the fire in

cross

How many times the word 'cross' appears in the text?

Both existed before Christianity; both are of Pagan origin; both were afterwards consecrated to the service of the Church." "Pardon me," interrupted Bateman, "Gregorians were Jewish, not Pagan." "Be it so, for argument sake," said Campbell; "still, at least, they were not of Christian origin. Next, both the old music and the old architecture were inartificial and limited, as methods of exhibiting their respective arts. You can't have a large Grecian temple, you can't have a long Gregorian _Gloria_." "Not a long one!" said Bateman; "why there's poor Willis used to complain how tedious the old Gregorian compositions were abroad." "I don't explain myself," answered Campbell; "of course you may produce them to any length, but merely by addition, not by carrying on the melody. You can put two together, and then have one twice as long as either. But I speak of a musical piece, which must of course be the natural development of certain ideas, with one part depending on another. In like manner, you might make an Ionic temple twice as long or twice as wide as the Parthenon; but you would lose the beauty of proportion by doing so. This, then, is what I meant to say of the primitive architecture and the primitive music, that they soon come to their limit; they soon are exhausted, and can do nothing more. If you attempt more, it's like taxing a musical instrument beyond its powers." "You but try, Bateman," said Reding, "to make a bass play quadrilles, and you will see what is meant by taxing an instrument." "Well, I have heard Lindley play all sorts of quick tunes on his bass," said Bateman, "and most wonderful it is." "Wonderful is the right word," answered Reding; "it is very wonderful. You say, 'How _can_ he manage it?' and 'It's very wonderful for a bass;' but it is not pleasant in itself. In like manner, I have always felt a disgust when Mr. So-and-so comes forward to make his sweet flute bleat and bray like a hautbois; it's forcing the poor thing to do what it was never made for." "This is literally true as regards Gregorian music," said Campbell; "instruments did not exist in primitive times which could execute any other. But I am speaking under correction; Mr. Reding seems to know more about the subject than I do." "I have always understood, as you say," answered Charles, "modern music did not come into existence till after the powers of the violin became known. Corelli himself, who wrote not two hundred years ago, hardly ventures on the shift. The piano, again, I have heard, has almost given birth to Beethoven." "Modern music, then, could not be in ancient times, for want of modern instruments," said Campbell; "and, in like manner, Gothic architecture could not exist until vaulting was brought to perfection. Great mechanical inventions have taken place, both in architecture and in music, since the age of basilicas and Gregorians; and each science has gained by it." "It is curious enough," said Reding, "one thing I have been accustomed to say, quite falls in with this view of yours. When people who are not musicians have accused Handel and Beethoven of not being _simple_, I have always said, 'Is Gothic architecture _simple_?' A cathedral expresses one idea, but it is indefinitely varied and elaborated in its parts; so is a symphony or quartett of Beethoven." "Certainly, Bateman, you must tolerate Pagan architecture, or you must in consistency exclude Pagan or Jewish Gregorians," said Campbell; "you must tolerate figured music, or reprobate tracery windows." "And which are you for," asked Bateman, "Gothic with Handel, or Roman with Gregorians?" "For both in their place," answered Campbell. "I exceedingly prefer Gothic architecture to classical. I think it the one true child and development of Christianity; but I won't, for that reason, discard the Pagan style which has been sanctified by eighteen centuries, by the exclusive love of many Christian countries, and by the sanction of a host of saints. I am for toleration. Give Gothic an ascendancy; be respectful towards classical." The conversation slackened. "Much as I like modern music," said Charles, "I can't quite go the length to which your doctrine would lead me. I cannot, indeed, help liking Mozart; but surely his music is not religious." "I have not been speaking in defence of particular composers," said Campbell; "figured music may be right, yet Mozart or Beethoven inadmissible. In like manner, you don't suppose, because I tolerate Roman architecture, that therefore I like naked cupids to stand for cherubs, and sprawling women for the cardinal virtues." He paused. "Besides," he added, "as you were saying yourself just now, we must consult the genius of our country and the religious associations of our people." "Well," said Bateman, "I think the perfection of sacred music is Gregorian set to harmonies; there you have the glorious old chants, and just a little modern richness." "And I think it just the worst of all," answered Campbell; "it is a mixture of two things, each good in itself, and incongruous together. It's a mixture of the first and second courses at table. It's like the architecture of the fa ade at Milan, half Gothic, half Grecian." "It's what is always used, I believe," said Charles. "Oh yes, we must not go against the age," said Campbell; "it would be absurd to do so. I only spoke of what was right and wrong on abstract principles; and, to tell the truth, I can't help liking the mixture myself, though I can't defend it." Bateman rang for tea; his friends wished to return home soon; it was the month of January, and no season for after-dinner strolls. "Well," he said, "Campbell, you are more lenient to the age than to me; you yield to the age when it sets a figured bass to a Gregorian tone; but you laugh at me for setting a coat upon a cassock." "It's no honour to be the author of a mongrel type," said Campbell. "A mongrel type?" said Bateman; "rather it is a transition state." "What are you passing to?" asked Charles. "Talking of transitions," said Campbell abruptly, "do you know that your man Willis--I don't know his college, he turned Romanist--is living in my parish, and I have hopes he is making a transition back again." "Have you seen him?" said Charles. "No; I have called, but was unfortunate; he was out. He still goes to mass, I find." "Why, where does he find a chapel?" asked Bateman. "At Seaton. A good seven miles from you," said Charles. "Yes," answered Campbell; "and he walks to and fro every Sunday." "That is not like a transition, except a physical one," observed Reding. "A person must go somewhere," answered Campbell; "I suppose he went to church up to the week he joined the Romanists." "Very awful, these defections," said Bateman; "but very satisfactory, a melancholy satisfaction," with a look at Charles, "that the victims of delusions should be at length recovered." "Yes," said Campbell; "very sad indeed. I am afraid we must expect a number more." "Well, I don't know how to think it," said Charles; "the hold our Church has on the mind is so powerful; it is such a wrench to leave it, I cannot fancy any party-tie standing against it. Humanly speaking, there is far, far more to keep them fast than to carry them away." "Yes, if they moved as a party," said Campbell; "but that is not the case. They don't move simply because others move, but, poor fellows, because they can't help it.--Bateman, will you let my chaise be brought round?--How _can_ they help it?" continued he, standing up over the fire; "their Catholic principles lead them on, and there's nothing to drive them back." "Why should not their love for their own Church?" asked Bateman; "it is deplorable, unpardonable." "They will keep going one after another, as they ripen," said Campbell. "Did you hear the report--I did not think much of it myself," said Reding,--"that Smith was moving?" "Not impossible," answered Campbell thoughtfully. "Impossible, quite impossible," cried Bateman; "such a triumph to the enemy; I'll not believe it till I see it." "_Not_ impossible," repeated Campbell, as he buttoned and fitted his great-coat about him; "he has shifted his ground." His carriage was announced. "Mr. Reding, I believe I can take you part of your way, if you will accept of a seat in my pony-chaise." Charles accepted the offer; and Bateman was soon deserted by his two guests. CHAPTER XVII. Campbell put Charles down about half-way between Melford and his home. It was bright moonlight; and, after thanking his new friend for the lift, he bounded over the stile at the side of the road, and was at once buried in the shade of the copse along which his path lay. Soon he came in sight of a tall wooden Cross, which, in better days, had been a religious emblem, but had served in latter times to mark the boundary between two contiguous parishes. The moon was behind him, and the sacred symbol rose awfully in the pale sky, overhanging a pool, which was still venerated in the neighbourhood for its reported miraculous virtue. Charles, to his surprise, saw distinctly a man kneeling on the little mound out of which the Cross grew; nay, heard him, for his shoulders were bare, and he was using the discipline upon them, while he repeated what appeared to be some form of devotion. Charles stopped, unwilling to interrupt, yet not knowing how to pass; but the stranger had caught the sound of feet, and in a few seconds vanished from his view. He was overcome with a sudden emotion, which he could not control. "O happy times," he cried, "when faith was one! O blessed penitent, whoever you are, who know what to believe, and how to gain pardon, and can begin where others end! Here am I, in my twenty-third year, uncertain about everything, because I have nothing to trust." He drew near to the Cross, took off his hat, knelt down and kissed the wood, and prayed awhile that whatever might be the consequences, whatever the trial, whatever the loss, he might have grace to follow whithersoever God should call him. He then rose and turned to the cold well; he took some water in his palm and drank it. He felt as if he could have prayed to the Saint who owned that pool--St. Thomas the Martyr, he believed--to plead for him, and to aid him in his search after the true faith; but something whispered, "It is wrong;" and he checked the wish. So, regaining his hat, he passed away, and pursued his homeward path at a brisk pace. The family had retired for the night, and he went up without delay to his bedroom. Passing through his study, he found a letter lying on his table, without post-mark, which had come for him in his absence. He broke the seal; it was an anonymous paper, and began as follows:-- "_Questions for one whom it concerns._ 1. What is meant by the One Church of which the Creed speaks?" "This is too much for to-night," thought Charles, "it is late already;" and he folded it up again and threw it on his dressing-table. "Some well-meaning person, I dare say, who thinks he knows me." He wound up his watch, gave a yawn, and put on his slippers. "Who can there be in this neighbourhood to write it?" He opened it again. "It's certainly a Catholic's writing," he said. His mind glanced to the person whom he had seen under the Cross; perhaps it glanced further. He sat down and began reading _in extenso:_-- "_Questions for one whom it concerns._ 1. What is meant by the One Church of which the Creed speaks? 2. Is it a generalization or a thing? 3. Does it belong to past history or to the present time? 4. Does not Scripture speak of it as a kingdom? 5. And a kingdom which was to last to the end? 6. What is a kingdom? and what is meant when Scripture calls the Church a kingdom? 7. Is it a visible kingdom, or an invisible? 8. Can a kingdom have two governments, and these acting in contrary directions? 9. Is identity of institutions, opinions, or race, sufficient to make two nations one kingdom? 10. Is the Episcopal form, the hierarchy, or the Apostles' Creed, sufficient to make the Churches of Rome and of England one? 11. Where there are parts, does not unity require union, and a visible unity require a visible union? 12. How can two religions be the same which have utterly distinct worships and ideas of worship? 13. Can two religions be one, if the most sacred and peculiar act of worship in the one is called 'a blasphemous fable and dangerous deceit' in the other? 14. Has not the One Church of Christ one faith? 15. Can a Church be Christ's which has not one faith? 16. Which is contradictory to itself in its documents? 17. And in different centuries? 18. And in its documents contrasted with its divines? 19. And in its divines and members one with another? 20. What is _the_ faith of the English Church? 21. How many Councils does the English Church admit? 22. Does the English Church consider the present Nestorian and Jacobite Churches under an anathema, or part of the visible Church? 23. Is it necessary, or possible, to believe any one but a professed messenger from God? 24. Is the English Church, does she claim to be, a messenger from God? 25. Does she impart the truth, or bid us seek it? 26. If she leaves us to seek it, do members of the English Church seek it with that earnestness which Scripture enjoins? 27. Is a person safe who lives without faith, even though he seems to have hope and charity?" Charles got very sleepy before he reached the "twenty-seventhly." "It won't do," he said; "I am only losing my time. They seem well put; but they must stand over." He put the paper from him, said his prayers, and was soon fast asleep. Next morning, on waking, the subject of the letter came into his mind, and he lay for some time thinking over it. "Certainly," he said, "I do wish very much to be settled either in the English Church or somewhere else. I wish I knew _what_ Christianity was; I am ready to be at pains to seek it, and would accept it eagerly and thankfully, if found. But it's a work of time; all the paper-arguments in the world are unequal to giving one a view in a moment. There must be a process; they may shorten it, as medicine shortens physical processes, but they can't supersede its necessity. I recollect how all my religious doubts and theories went to flight on my dear father's death. They weren't part of me, and could not sustain rough weather. Conviction is the eyesight of the mind, not a conclusion from premises; God works it, and His works are slow. At least so it is with me. I can't believe on a sudden; if I attempt it, I shall be using words for things, and be sure to repent it. Or if not, I shall go right merely by hazard. I must move in what seems God's way; I can but put myself on the road; a higher power must overtake me, and carry me forward. At present I have a direct duty upon me, which my dear father left me, to take a good class. This is the path of duty. I won't put off the inquiry, but I'll let it proceed in that path. God can bless my reading to my spiritual illumination, as well as anything else. Saul sought his father's asses, and found a kingdom. All in good time. When I have taken my degree the subject will properly come on me." He sighed. "My degree! those odious Articles! rather, when I have passed my examination. Well, it's no good lying here;" and he jumped up, and signed himself with the Cross. His eye caught the letter. "It's well written--better than Willis could write; it's not Willis's. There's something about that Willis I don't understand. I wonder how he and his mother get on together. I don't think he _has_ any sisters." CHAPTER XVIII. Campbell had been much pleased with Reding, and his interest in him was not lessened by a hint from Bateman that his allegiance to the English Church was in danger. He called on him in no long time, asked him to dinner, and, when Charles had returned his invitation, and Campbell had accepted it, the beginning of an acquaintance was formed between the rectory at Sutton and the family at Boughton which grew into an intimacy as time went on. Campbell was a gentleman, a travelled man, of clear head and ardent mind, candid, well-read in English divinity, a devoted Anglican, and the incumbent of a living so well endowed as almost to be a dignity. Mary was pleased at the introduction, as bringing her brother under the influence of an intellect which he could not make light of; and, as Campbell had a carriage, it was natural that he should wish to save Charles the loss of a day's reading and the trouble of a muddy walk to the rectory and back by coming over himself to Boughton. Accordingly it so happened that he saw Charles twice at his mother's for once that he saw him at Sutton. But whatever came of these visits, nothing occurred which particularly bears upon the line of our narrative; so let them pass. One day Charles called upon Bateman, and, on entering the room, was surprised to see him and Campbell at luncheon, and in conversation with a third person. There was a moment's surprise and hesitation on seeing him before they rose and welcomed him as usual. When he looked at the stranger he felt a slight awkwardness himself, which he could not control. It was Willis; and apparently submitted to the process of reconversion. Charles was evidently _de trop_, but there was no help for it; so he shook hands with Willis, and accepted the pressing call of Bateman to seat himself at table, and to share their bread and cheese. Charles sat down opposite Willis, and for a while could not keep his eyes from him. At first he had some difficulty in believing he had before him the impetuous youth he had known two years and a half before. He had always been silent in general company; but in that he was changed, as in everything else. Not that he talked more than was natural, but he talked freely and easily. The great change, however, was in his appearance and manner. He had lost his bloom and youthfulness; his expression was sweeter indeed than before, and very placid, but there was a thin line down his face on each side of his mouth; his cheeks were wanting in fulness, and he had the air of a man of thirty. When he entered into conversation, and became animated, his former self returned. "I suppose we may all admire this cream at this season," said Charles, as he helped himself, "for we are none of us Devonshire men." "It's not peculiar to Devonshire," answered Campbell; "that is, they have it abroad. At Rome there is a sort of cream or cheese very like it, and very common." "Will butter and cream keep in so warm a climate?" asked Charles; "I fancied oil was the substitute." "Rome is not so warm as you fancy," said Willis, "except during the summer." "Oil? so it is," said Campbell; "thus we read in Scripture of the multiplication of the oil and meal, which seems to answer to bread and butter. The oil in Rome is excellent, so clear and pale; you can eat it as milk." "The taste, I suppose, is peculiar," observed Charles. "Just at first," answered Campbell; "but one soon gets used to it. All such substances, milk, butter, cheese, oil, have a particular taste at first, which use alone gets over. The rich Guernsey butter is too much for strangers, while Russians relish whale-oil. Most of our tastes are in a measure artificial." "It is certainly so with vegetables," said Willis; "when I was a boy I could not eat beans, spinach, asparagus, parsnips, and I think some others." "Therefore your hermit's fare is not only the most natural, but the only naturally palatable, I suppose,--a crust of bread and a draught from the stream," replied Campbell. "Or the Clerk of Copmanhurst's dry peas," said Charles. "The macaroni and grapes of the Neapolitans are as natural and more palatable," said Willis. "Rather they are a luxury," said Bateman. "No," answered Campbell, "not a luxury; a luxury is in its very idea a something _recherch _. Thus Horace speaks of the '_peregrina lagois_.' What nature yields _sponte su _ around you, however delicious, is no luxury. Wild ducks are no luxury in your old neighbourhood, amid your Oxford fens, Bateman; nor grapes at Naples." "Then the old women here are luxurious over their sixpenn'rth of tea," said Bateman; "for it comes from China." Campbell was posed for an instant. Somehow neither he nor Bateman were quite at their ease, whether with themselves or with each other; it might be Charles's sudden intrusion, or something which had happened before it. Campbell answered at length that steamers and railroads were making strange changes; that time and place were vanishing, and price would soon be the only measure of luxury. "This seems the measure also of _grasso_ and _magro_ food in Italy," said Willis; "for I think there are dispensations for butcher's meat in Lent, in consequence of the dearness of bread and oil." "This seems to show that the age for abstinences and fastings is past," observed Campbell; "for it's absurd to keep Lent on beef and mutton." "Oh, Campbell, what are you saying?" cried Bateman; "past! are we bound by their lax ways in Italy?" "I do certainly think," answered Campbell, "that fasting is unsuitable to this age, in England as well as in Rome." "Take care, my fine fellows," thought Charles; "keep your ranks, or you won't secure your prisoner." "What, not fast on Friday!" cried Bateman; "we always did so most rigidly at Oxford." "It does you credit," answered Campbell; "but I am of Cambridge." "But what do you say to Rubrics and the Calendar?" insisted Bateman. "They are not binding," answered Campbell. "They _are_, binding," said Bateman. A pause, as between the rounds of a boxing-match. Reding interposed: "Bateman, cut me, please, a bit of your capital bread--home-made, I suppose?" "A thousand pardons!" said Bateman:--"not binding?--Pass it to him, Willis, if you please. Yes, it comes from a farmer, next door. I'm glad you like it.--I repeat, they _are_ binding, Campbell." "An odd sort of binding, when they have never bound," answered Campbell; "they have existed two or three hundred years; when were they ever put in force?" "But there they are," said Bateman, "in the Prayer Book." "Yes, and there let them lie and never get out of it," retorted Campbell; "there they will stay till the end of the story." "Oh, for shame!" cried Bateman; "you should aid your mother in a difficulty, and not be like the priest and the Levite." "My mother does not wish to be aided," continued Campbell. "Oh, how you talk! What shall I do? What can be done?" cried poor Bateman. "Done! nothing," said Campbell; "is there no such thing as the desuetude of a law? Does not a law cease to be binding when it is not enforced? I appeal to Mr. Willis." Willis, thus addressed, answered that he was no moral theologian, but he had attended some schools, and he believed it was the Catholic rule that when a law had been promulgated, and was not observed by the majority, if the legislator knew the state of the case, and yet kept silence, he was considered _ipso facto_ to revoke it. "What!" said Bateman to Campbell, "do you appeal to the Romish Church?" "No," answered Campbell; "I appeal to the whole Catholic Church, of which the Church of Rome happens in this particular case to be the exponent. It is plain common sense, that, if a law is not enforced, at length it ceases to be binding. Else it would be quite a tyranny; we should not know where we were. The Church of Rome does but give expression to this common-sense view." "Well, then," said Bateman, "I will appeal to the Church of Rome too. Rome is part of the Catholic Church as well as we: since, then, the Romish Church has ever kept up fastings the ordinance is not abolished; the 'greater part' of the Catholic Church has always observed it." "But it has not," said Campbell; "it now dispenses with fasts, as you have heard." Willis interposed to ask a question. "Do you mean then," he said to Bateman, "that the Church of England and the Church of Rome make one Church?" "Most certainly," answered Bateman. "Is it possible?" said Willis; "in what sense of the word _one_?" "In every sense," answered Bateman, "but that of intercommunion." "That is, I suppose," said Willis, "they are one, except that they have no intercourse with each other." Bateman assented. Willis continued: "No intercourse; that is, no social dealings, no consulting or arranging, no ordering and obeying, no mutual support; in short, no visible union." Bateman still assented. "Well, that is my difficulty," said Willis; "I can't understand how two parts can make up one visible body if they are not visibly united; unity implies _union_." "I don't see that at all," said Bateman; "I don't see that at all. No, Willis, you must not expect I shall give that up to you; it is one of our points. There is only one visible Church, and therefore the English and Romish Churches are both parts of it." Campbell saw clearly that Bateman had got into a difficulty, and he came to the rescue in his own way. "We must distinguish," he said, "the state of the case more exactly. A kingdom may be divided, it may be distracted by parties, by dissensions, yet be still a kingdom. That, I conceive, is the real condition of the Church; in this way the Churches of England, Rome, and Greece are one." "I suppose you will grant," said Willis, "that in proportion as a rebellion is strong, so is the unity of the kingdom threatened; and if a rebellion is successful, or if the parties in a civil war manage to divide the power and territory between them, then forthwith, instead of one kingdom, we have two. Ten or fifteen years since, Belgium was part of the kingdom of the Netherlands: I suppose you would not call it part of that kingdom now? This seems the case of the Churches of Rome and England." "Still, a kingdom may be in a state of decay," replied Campbell; "consider the case of the Turkish Empire at this moment. The Union between its separate portions is so languid, that each separate Pasha may almost be termed a separate sovereign; still it is one kingdom." "The Church, then, at present," said Willis, "is a kingdom tending to dissolution?" "Certainly it is," answered Campbell. "And will ultimately fail?" asked Willis. "Certainly," said Campbell; "when the end comes, according to our Lord's saying, 'When the Son of man cometh, shall He find faith on the earth?' just as in the case of the chosen people, the sceptre failed from Judah when the Shiloh came." "Surely the Church has failed already _before_ the end," said Willis, "according to the view you take of failing. How _can_ any separation be more complete than exists at present between Rome, Greece, and England?" "They might excommunicate each other," said Campbell. "Then you are willing," said Willis, "to assign beforehand something definite, the occurrence of which will constitute a real separation." "Don't do so," said Reding to Campbell; "it is dangerous; don't commit yourself in a moral question; for then, if the thing specified did occur, it would be difficult to see our way." "No," said Willis; "you certainly _would_ be in a difficulty; but you would find your way out, I know. In that case you would choose some other _ultimatum_ as your test of schism. There would be," he added, speaking with some emotion, "'in the lowest depth a lower still.'" The concluding words were out of keeping with the tone of the conversation hitherto, and fairly excited Bateman, who, for some time, had been an impatient listener. "That's a dangerous line, Campbell," he said, "it is indeed; I can't go along with you. It will never do to say that the Church is failing; no, it never fails. It is always strong, and pure, and perfect, as the Prophets describe it. Look at its cathedrals, abbey-churches, and other sanctuaries, these fitly typify it." "My dear Bateman," answered Campbell, "I am as willing as you to maintain the fulfilment of the prophecies made to the Church, but we must allow the _fact_ that the branches of the Church are _divided_, while we maintain the _doctrine_, that the Church should be one." "I don't see that at all," answered Bateman; "no, we need not allow it. There's no such thing as Churches, there's but one Church everywhere, and it is _not_ divided. It is merely the outward forms, appearances, manifestations of the Church that are divided. The Church is one as much as ever it was." "That will never do," said Campbell; and he stood up before the fire in

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Both existed before Christianity; both are of Pagan origin; both were afterwards consecrated to the service of the Church." "Pardon me," interrupted Bateman, "Gregorians were Jewish, not Pagan." "Be it so, for argument sake," said Campbell; "still, at least, they were not of Christian origin. Next, both the old music and the old architecture were inartificial and limited, as methods of exhibiting their respective arts. You can't have a large Grecian temple, you can't have a long Gregorian _Gloria_." "Not a long one!" said Bateman; "why there's poor Willis used to complain how tedious the old Gregorian compositions were abroad." "I don't explain myself," answered Campbell; "of course you may produce them to any length, but merely by addition, not by carrying on the melody. You can put two together, and then have one twice as long as either. But I speak of a musical piece, which must of course be the natural development of certain ideas, with one part depending on another. In like manner, you might make an Ionic temple twice as long or twice as wide as the Parthenon; but you would lose the beauty of proportion by doing so. This, then, is what I meant to say of the primitive architecture and the primitive music, that they soon come to their limit; they soon are exhausted, and can do nothing more. If you attempt more, it's like taxing a musical instrument beyond its powers." "You but try, Bateman," said Reding, "to make a bass play quadrilles, and you will see what is meant by taxing an instrument." "Well, I have heard Lindley play all sorts of quick tunes on his bass," said Bateman, "and most wonderful it is." "Wonderful is the right word," answered Reding; "it is very wonderful. You say, 'How _can_ he manage it?' and 'It's very wonderful for a bass;' but it is not pleasant in itself. In like manner, I have always felt a disgust when Mr. So-and-so comes forward to make his sweet flute bleat and bray like a hautbois; it's forcing the poor thing to do what it was never made for." "This is literally true as regards Gregorian music," said Campbell; "instruments did not exist in primitive times which could execute any other. But I am speaking under correction; Mr. Reding seems to know more about the subject than I do." "I have always understood, as you say," answered Charles, "modern music did not come into existence till after the powers of the violin became known. Corelli himself, who wrote not two hundred years ago, hardly ventures on the shift. The piano, again, I have heard, has almost given birth to Beethoven." "Modern music, then, could not be in ancient times, for want of modern instruments," said Campbell; "and, in like manner, Gothic architecture could not exist until vaulting was brought to perfection. Great mechanical inventions have taken place, both in architecture and in music, since the age of basilicas and Gregorians; and each science has gained by it." "It is curious enough," said Reding, "one thing I have been accustomed to say, quite falls in with this view of yours. When people who are not musicians have accused Handel and Beethoven of not being _simple_, I have always said, 'Is Gothic architecture _simple_?' A cathedral expresses one idea, but it is indefinitely varied and elaborated in its parts; so is a symphony or quartett of Beethoven." "Certainly, Bateman, you must tolerate Pagan architecture, or you must in consistency exclude Pagan or Jewish Gregorians," said Campbell; "you must tolerate figured music, or reprobate tracery windows." "And which are you for," asked Bateman, "Gothic with Handel, or Roman with Gregorians?" "For both in their place," answered Campbell. "I exceedingly prefer Gothic architecture to classical. I think it the one true child and development of Christianity; but I won't, for that reason, discard the Pagan style which has been sanctified by eighteen centuries, by the exclusive love of many Christian countries, and by the sanction of a host of saints. I am for toleration. Give Gothic an ascendancy; be respectful towards classical." The conversation slackened. "Much as I like modern music," said Charles, "I can't quite go the length to which your doctrine would lead me. I cannot, indeed, help liking Mozart; but surely his music is not religious." "I have not been speaking in defence of particular composers," said Campbell; "figured music may be right, yet Mozart or Beethoven inadmissible. In like manner, you don't suppose, because I tolerate Roman architecture, that therefore I like naked cupids to stand for cherubs, and sprawling women for the cardinal virtues." He paused. "Besides," he added, "as you were saying yourself just now, we must consult the genius of our country and the religious associations of our people." "Well," said Bateman, "I think the perfection of sacred music is Gregorian set to harmonies; there you have the glorious old chants, and just a little modern richness." "And I think it just the worst of all," answered Campbell; "it is a mixture of two things, each good in itself, and incongruous together. It's a mixture of the first and second courses at table. It's like the architecture of the fa ade at Milan, half Gothic, half Grecian." "It's what is always used, I believe," said Charles. "Oh yes, we must not go against the age," said Campbell; "it would be absurd to do so. I only spoke of what was right and wrong on abstract principles; and, to tell the truth, I can't help liking the mixture myself, though I can't defend it." Bateman rang for tea; his friends wished to return home soon; it was the month of January, and no season for after-dinner strolls. "Well," he said, "Campbell, you are more lenient to the age than to me; you yield to the age when it sets a figured bass to a Gregorian tone; but you laugh at me for setting a coat upon a cassock." "It's no honour to be the author of a mongrel type," said Campbell. "A mongrel type?" said Bateman; "rather it is a transition state." "What are you passing to?" asked Charles. "Talking of transitions," said Campbell abruptly, "do you know that your man Willis--I don't know his college, he turned Romanist--is living in my parish, and I have hopes he is making a transition back again." "Have you seen him?" said Charles. "No; I have called, but was unfortunate; he was out. He still goes to mass, I find." "Why, where does he find a chapel?" asked Bateman. "At Seaton. A good seven miles from you," said Charles. "Yes," answered Campbell; "and he walks to and fro every Sunday." "That is not like a transition, except a physical one," observed Reding. "A person must go somewhere," answered Campbell; "I suppose he went to church up to the week he joined the Romanists." "Very awful, these defections," said Bateman; "but very satisfactory, a melancholy satisfaction," with a look at Charles, "that the victims of delusions should be at length recovered." "Yes," said Campbell; "very sad indeed. I am afraid we must expect a number more." "Well, I don't know how to think it," said Charles; "the hold our Church has on the mind is so powerful; it is such a wrench to leave it, I cannot fancy any party-tie standing against it. Humanly speaking, there is far, far more to keep them fast than to carry them away." "Yes, if they moved as a party," said Campbell; "but that is not the case. They don't move simply because others move, but, poor fellows, because they can't help it.--Bateman, will you let my chaise be brought round?--How _can_ they help it?" continued he, standing up over the fire; "their Catholic principles lead them on, and there's nothing to drive them back." "Why should not their love for their own Church?" asked Bateman; "it is deplorable, unpardonable." "They will keep going one after another, as they ripen," said Campbell. "Did you hear the report--I did not think much of it myself," said Reding,--"that Smith was moving?" "Not impossible," answered Campbell thoughtfully. "Impossible, quite impossible," cried Bateman; "such a triumph to the enemy; I'll not believe it till I see it." "_Not_ impossible," repeated Campbell, as he buttoned and fitted his great-coat about him; "he has shifted his ground." His carriage was announced. "Mr. Reding, I believe I can take you part of your way, if you will accept of a seat in my pony-chaise." Charles accepted the offer; and Bateman was soon deserted by his two guests. CHAPTER XVII. Campbell put Charles down about half-way between Melford and his home. It was bright moonlight; and, after thanking his new friend for the lift, he bounded over the stile at the side of the road, and was at once buried in the shade of the copse along which his path lay. Soon he came in sight of a tall wooden Cross, which, in better days, had been a religious emblem, but had served in latter times to mark the boundary between two contiguous parishes. The moon was behind him, and the sacred symbol rose awfully in the pale sky, overhanging a pool, which was still venerated in the neighbourhood for its reported miraculous virtue. Charles, to his surprise, saw distinctly a man kneeling on the little mound out of which the Cross grew; nay, heard him, for his shoulders were bare, and he was using the discipline upon them, while he repeated what appeared to be some form of devotion. Charles stopped, unwilling to interrupt, yet not knowing how to pass; but the stranger had caught the sound of feet, and in a few seconds vanished from his view. He was overcome with a sudden emotion, which he could not control. "O happy times," he cried, "when faith was one! O blessed penitent, whoever you are, who know what to believe, and how to gain pardon, and can begin where others end! Here am I, in my twenty-third year, uncertain about everything, because I have nothing to trust." He drew near to the Cross, took off his hat, knelt down and kissed the wood, and prayed awhile that whatever might be the consequences, whatever the trial, whatever the loss, he might have grace to follow whithersoever God should call him. He then rose and turned to the cold well; he took some water in his palm and drank it. He felt as if he could have prayed to the Saint who owned that pool--St. Thomas the Martyr, he believed--to plead for him, and to aid him in his search after the true faith; but something whispered, "It is wrong;" and he checked the wish. So, regaining his hat, he passed away, and pursued his homeward path at a brisk pace. The family had retired for the night, and he went up without delay to his bedroom. Passing through his study, he found a letter lying on his table, without post-mark, which had come for him in his absence. He broke the seal; it was an anonymous paper, and began as follows:-- "_Questions for one whom it concerns._ 1. What is meant by the One Church of which the Creed speaks?" "This is too much for to-night," thought Charles, "it is late already;" and he folded it up again and threw it on his dressing-table. "Some well-meaning person, I dare say, who thinks he knows me." He wound up his watch, gave a yawn, and put on his slippers. "Who can there be in this neighbourhood to write it?" He opened it again. "It's certainly a Catholic's writing," he said. His mind glanced to the person whom he had seen under the Cross; perhaps it glanced further. He sat down and began reading _in extenso:_-- "_Questions for one whom it concerns._ 1. What is meant by the One Church of which the Creed speaks? 2. Is it a generalization or a thing? 3. Does it belong to past history or to the present time? 4. Does not Scripture speak of it as a kingdom? 5. And a kingdom which was to last to the end? 6. What is a kingdom? and what is meant when Scripture calls the Church a kingdom? 7. Is it a visible kingdom, or an invisible? 8. Can a kingdom have two governments, and these acting in contrary directions? 9. Is identity of institutions, opinions, or race, sufficient to make two nations one kingdom? 10. Is the Episcopal form, the hierarchy, or the Apostles' Creed, sufficient to make the Churches of Rome and of England one? 11. Where there are parts, does not unity require union, and a visible unity require a visible union? 12. How can two religions be the same which have utterly distinct worships and ideas of worship? 13. Can two religions be one, if the most sacred and peculiar act of worship in the one is called 'a blasphemous fable and dangerous deceit' in the other? 14. Has not the One Church of Christ one faith? 15. Can a Church be Christ's which has not one faith? 16. Which is contradictory to itself in its documents? 17. And in different centuries? 18. And in its documents contrasted with its divines? 19. And in its divines and members one with another? 20. What is _the_ faith of the English Church? 21. How many Councils does the English Church admit? 22. Does the English Church consider the present Nestorian and Jacobite Churches under an anathema, or part of the visible Church? 23. Is it necessary, or possible, to believe any one but a professed messenger from God? 24. Is the English Church, does she claim to be, a messenger from God? 25. Does she impart the truth, or bid us seek it? 26. If she leaves us to seek it, do members of the English Church seek it with that earnestness which Scripture enjoins? 27. Is a person safe who lives without faith, even though he seems to have hope and charity?" Charles got very sleepy before he reached the "twenty-seventhly." "It won't do," he said; "I am only losing my time. They seem well put; but they must stand over." He put the paper from him, said his prayers, and was soon fast asleep. Next morning, on waking, the subject of the letter came into his mind, and he lay for some time thinking over it. "Certainly," he said, "I do wish very much to be settled either in the English Church or somewhere else. I wish I knew _what_ Christianity was; I am ready to be at pains to seek it, and would accept it eagerly and thankfully, if found. But it's a work of time; all the paper-arguments in the world are unequal to giving one a view in a moment. There must be a process; they may shorten it, as medicine shortens physical processes, but they can't supersede its necessity. I recollect how all my religious doubts and theories went to flight on my dear father's death. They weren't part of me, and could not sustain rough weather. Conviction is the eyesight of the mind, not a conclusion from premises; God works it, and His works are slow. At least so it is with me. I can't believe on a sudden; if I attempt it, I shall be using words for things, and be sure to repent it. Or if not, I shall go right merely by hazard. I must move in what seems God's way; I can but put myself on the road; a higher power must overtake me, and carry me forward. At present I have a direct duty upon me, which my dear father left me, to take a good class. This is the path of duty. I won't put off the inquiry, but I'll let it proceed in that path. God can bless my reading to my spiritual illumination, as well as anything else. Saul sought his father's asses, and found a kingdom. All in good time. When I have taken my degree the subject will properly come on me." He sighed. "My degree! those odious Articles! rather, when I have passed my examination. Well, it's no good lying here;" and he jumped up, and signed himself with the Cross. His eye caught the letter. "It's well written--better than Willis could write; it's not Willis's. There's something about that Willis I don't understand. I wonder how he and his mother get on together. I don't think he _has_ any sisters." CHAPTER XVIII. Campbell had been much pleased with Reding, and his interest in him was not lessened by a hint from Bateman that his allegiance to the English Church was in danger. He called on him in no long time, asked him to dinner, and, when Charles had returned his invitation, and Campbell had accepted it, the beginning of an acquaintance was formed between the rectory at Sutton and the family at Boughton which grew into an intimacy as time went on. Campbell was a gentleman, a travelled man, of clear head and ardent mind, candid, well-read in English divinity, a devoted Anglican, and the incumbent of a living so well endowed as almost to be a dignity. Mary was pleased at the introduction, as bringing her brother under the influence of an intellect which he could not make light of; and, as Campbell had a carriage, it was natural that he should wish to save Charles the loss of a day's reading and the trouble of a muddy walk to the rectory and back by coming over himself to Boughton. Accordingly it so happened that he saw Charles twice at his mother's for once that he saw him at Sutton. But whatever came of these visits, nothing occurred which particularly bears upon the line of our narrative; so let them pass. One day Charles called upon Bateman, and, on entering the room, was surprised to see him and Campbell at luncheon, and in conversation with a third person. There was a moment's surprise and hesitation on seeing him before they rose and welcomed him as usual. When he looked at the stranger he felt a slight awkwardness himself, which he could not control. It was Willis; and apparently submitted to the process of reconversion. Charles was evidently _de trop_, but there was no help for it; so he shook hands with Willis, and accepted the pressing call of Bateman to seat himself at table, and to share their bread and cheese. Charles sat down opposite Willis, and for a while could not keep his eyes from him. At first he had some difficulty in believing he had before him the impetuous youth he had known two years and a half before. He had always been silent in general company; but in that he was changed, as in everything else. Not that he talked more than was natural, but he talked freely and easily. The great change, however, was in his appearance and manner. He had lost his bloom and youthfulness; his expression was sweeter indeed than before, and very placid, but there was a thin line down his face on each side of his mouth; his cheeks were wanting in fulness, and he had the air of a man of thirty. When he entered into conversation, and became animated, his former self returned. "I suppose we may all admire this cream at this season," said Charles, as he helped himself, "for we are none of us Devonshire men." "It's not peculiar to Devonshire," answered Campbell; "that is, they have it abroad. At Rome there is a sort of cream or cheese very like it, and very common." "Will butter and cream keep in so warm a climate?" asked Charles; "I fancied oil was the substitute." "Rome is not so warm as you fancy," said Willis, "except during the summer." "Oil? so it is," said Campbell; "thus we read in Scripture of the multiplication of the oil and meal, which seems to answer to bread and butter. The oil in Rome is excellent, so clear and pale; you can eat it as milk." "The taste, I suppose, is peculiar," observed Charles. "Just at first," answered Campbell; "but one soon gets used to it. All such substances, milk, butter, cheese, oil, have a particular taste at first, which use alone gets over. The rich Guernsey butter is too much for strangers, while Russians relish whale-oil. Most of our tastes are in a measure artificial." "It is certainly so with vegetables," said Willis; "when I was a boy I could not eat beans, spinach, asparagus, parsnips, and I think some others." "Therefore your hermit's fare is not only the most natural, but the only naturally palatable, I suppose,--a crust of bread and a draught from the stream," replied Campbell. "Or the Clerk of Copmanhurst's dry peas," said Charles. "The macaroni and grapes of the Neapolitans are as natural and more palatable," said Willis. "Rather they are a luxury," said Bateman. "No," answered Campbell, "not a luxury; a luxury is in its very idea a something _recherch _. Thus Horace speaks of the '_peregrina lagois_.' What nature yields _sponte su _ around you, however delicious, is no luxury. Wild ducks are no luxury in your old neighbourhood, amid your Oxford fens, Bateman; nor grapes at Naples." "Then the old women here are luxurious over their sixpenn'rth of tea," said Bateman; "for it comes from China." Campbell was posed for an instant. Somehow neither he nor Bateman were quite at their ease, whether with themselves or with each other; it might be Charles's sudden intrusion, or something which had happened before it. Campbell answered at length that steamers and railroads were making strange changes; that time and place were vanishing, and price would soon be the only measure of luxury. "This seems the measure also of _grasso_ and _magro_ food in Italy," said Willis; "for I think there are dispensations for butcher's meat in Lent, in consequence of the dearness of bread and oil." "This seems to show that the age for abstinences and fastings is past," observed Campbell; "for it's absurd to keep Lent on beef and mutton." "Oh, Campbell, what are you saying?" cried Bateman; "past! are we bound by their lax ways in Italy?" "I do certainly think," answered Campbell, "that fasting is unsuitable to this age, in England as well as in Rome." "Take care, my fine fellows," thought Charles; "keep your ranks, or you won't secure your prisoner." "What, not fast on Friday!" cried Bateman; "we always did so most rigidly at Oxford." "It does you credit," answered Campbell; "but I am of Cambridge." "But what do you say to Rubrics and the Calendar?" insisted Bateman. "They are not binding," answered Campbell. "They _are_, binding," said Bateman. A pause, as between the rounds of a boxing-match. Reding interposed: "Bateman, cut me, please, a bit of your capital bread--home-made, I suppose?" "A thousand pardons!" said Bateman:--"not binding?--Pass it to him, Willis, if you please. Yes, it comes from a farmer, next door. I'm glad you like it.--I repeat, they _are_ binding, Campbell." "An odd sort of binding, when they have never bound," answered Campbell; "they have existed two or three hundred years; when were they ever put in force?" "But there they are," said Bateman, "in the Prayer Book." "Yes, and there let them lie and never get out of it," retorted Campbell; "there they will stay till the end of the story." "Oh, for shame!" cried Bateman; "you should aid your mother in a difficulty, and not be like the priest and the Levite." "My mother does not wish to be aided," continued Campbell. "Oh, how you talk! What shall I do? What can be done?" cried poor Bateman. "Done! nothing," said Campbell; "is there no such thing as the desuetude of a law? Does not a law cease to be binding when it is not enforced? I appeal to Mr. Willis." Willis, thus addressed, answered that he was no moral theologian, but he had attended some schools, and he believed it was the Catholic rule that when a law had been promulgated, and was not observed by the majority, if the legislator knew the state of the case, and yet kept silence, he was considered _ipso facto_ to revoke it. "What!" said Bateman to Campbell, "do you appeal to the Romish Church?" "No," answered Campbell; "I appeal to the whole Catholic Church, of which the Church of Rome happens in this particular case to be the exponent. It is plain common sense, that, if a law is not enforced, at length it ceases to be binding. Else it would be quite a tyranny; we should not know where we were. The Church of Rome does but give expression to this common-sense view." "Well, then," said Bateman, "I will appeal to the Church of Rome too. Rome is part of the Catholic Church as well as we: since, then, the Romish Church has ever kept up fastings the ordinance is not abolished; the 'greater part' of the Catholic Church has always observed it." "But it has not," said Campbell; "it now dispenses with fasts, as you have heard." Willis interposed to ask a question. "Do you mean then," he said to Bateman, "that the Church of England and the Church of Rome make one Church?" "Most certainly," answered Bateman. "Is it possible?" said Willis; "in what sense of the word _one_?" "In every sense," answered Bateman, "but that of intercommunion." "That is, I suppose," said Willis, "they are one, except that they have no intercourse with each other." Bateman assented. Willis continued: "No intercourse; that is, no social dealings, no consulting or arranging, no ordering and obeying, no mutual support; in short, no visible union." Bateman still assented. "Well, that is my difficulty," said Willis; "I can't understand how two parts can make up one visible body if they are not visibly united; unity implies _union_." "I don't see that at all," said Bateman; "I don't see that at all. No, Willis, you must not expect I shall give that up to you; it is one of our points. There is only one visible Church, and therefore the English and Romish Churches are both parts of it." Campbell saw clearly that Bateman had got into a difficulty, and he came to the rescue in his own way. "We must distinguish," he said, "the state of the case more exactly. A kingdom may be divided, it may be distracted by parties, by dissensions, yet be still a kingdom. That, I conceive, is the real condition of the Church; in this way the Churches of England, Rome, and Greece are one." "I suppose you will grant," said Willis, "that in proportion as a rebellion is strong, so is the unity of the kingdom threatened; and if a rebellion is successful, or if the parties in a civil war manage to divide the power and territory between them, then forthwith, instead of one kingdom, we have two. Ten or fifteen years since, Belgium was part of the kingdom of the Netherlands: I suppose you would not call it part of that kingdom now? This seems the case of the Churches of Rome and England." "Still, a kingdom may be in a state of decay," replied Campbell; "consider the case of the Turkish Empire at this moment. The Union between its separate portions is so languid, that each separate Pasha may almost be termed a separate sovereign; still it is one kingdom." "The Church, then, at present," said Willis, "is a kingdom tending to dissolution?" "Certainly it is," answered Campbell. "And will ultimately fail?" asked Willis. "Certainly," said Campbell; "when the end comes, according to our Lord's saying, 'When the Son of man cometh, shall He find faith on the earth?' just as in the case of the chosen people, the sceptre failed from Judah when the Shiloh came." "Surely the Church has failed already _before_ the end," said Willis, "according to the view you take of failing. How _can_ any separation be more complete than exists at present between Rome, Greece, and England?" "They might excommunicate each other," said Campbell. "Then you are willing," said Willis, "to assign beforehand something definite, the occurrence of which will constitute a real separation." "Don't do so," said Reding to Campbell; "it is dangerous; don't commit yourself in a moral question; for then, if the thing specified did occur, it would be difficult to see our way." "No," said Willis; "you certainly _would_ be in a difficulty; but you would find your way out, I know. In that case you would choose some other _ultimatum_ as your test of schism. There would be," he added, speaking with some emotion, "'in the lowest depth a lower still.'" The concluding words were out of keeping with the tone of the conversation hitherto, and fairly excited Bateman, who, for some time, had been an impatient listener. "That's a dangerous line, Campbell," he said, "it is indeed; I can't go along with you. It will never do to say that the Church is failing; no, it never fails. It is always strong, and pure, and perfect, as the Prophets describe it. Look at its cathedrals, abbey-churches, and other sanctuaries, these fitly typify it." "My dear Bateman," answered Campbell, "I am as willing as you to maintain the fulfilment of the prophecies made to the Church, but we must allow the _fact_ that the branches of the Church are _divided_, while we maintain the _doctrine_, that the Church should be one." "I don't see that at all," answered Bateman; "no, we need not allow it. There's no such thing as Churches, there's but one Church everywhere, and it is _not_ divided. It is merely the outward forms, appearances, manifestations of the Church that are divided. The Church is one as much as ever it was." "That will never do," said Campbell; and he stood up before the fire in

type

How many times the word 'type' appears in the text?

Both existed before Christianity; both are of Pagan origin; both were afterwards consecrated to the service of the Church." "Pardon me," interrupted Bateman, "Gregorians were Jewish, not Pagan." "Be it so, for argument sake," said Campbell; "still, at least, they were not of Christian origin. Next, both the old music and the old architecture were inartificial and limited, as methods of exhibiting their respective arts. You can't have a large Grecian temple, you can't have a long Gregorian _Gloria_." "Not a long one!" said Bateman; "why there's poor Willis used to complain how tedious the old Gregorian compositions were abroad." "I don't explain myself," answered Campbell; "of course you may produce them to any length, but merely by addition, not by carrying on the melody. You can put two together, and then have one twice as long as either. But I speak of a musical piece, which must of course be the natural development of certain ideas, with one part depending on another. In like manner, you might make an Ionic temple twice as long or twice as wide as the Parthenon; but you would lose the beauty of proportion by doing so. This, then, is what I meant to say of the primitive architecture and the primitive music, that they soon come to their limit; they soon are exhausted, and can do nothing more. If you attempt more, it's like taxing a musical instrument beyond its powers." "You but try, Bateman," said Reding, "to make a bass play quadrilles, and you will see what is meant by taxing an instrument." "Well, I have heard Lindley play all sorts of quick tunes on his bass," said Bateman, "and most wonderful it is." "Wonderful is the right word," answered Reding; "it is very wonderful. You say, 'How _can_ he manage it?' and 'It's very wonderful for a bass;' but it is not pleasant in itself. In like manner, I have always felt a disgust when Mr. So-and-so comes forward to make his sweet flute bleat and bray like a hautbois; it's forcing the poor thing to do what it was never made for." "This is literally true as regards Gregorian music," said Campbell; "instruments did not exist in primitive times which could execute any other. But I am speaking under correction; Mr. Reding seems to know more about the subject than I do." "I have always understood, as you say," answered Charles, "modern music did not come into existence till after the powers of the violin became known. Corelli himself, who wrote not two hundred years ago, hardly ventures on the shift. The piano, again, I have heard, has almost given birth to Beethoven." "Modern music, then, could not be in ancient times, for want of modern instruments," said Campbell; "and, in like manner, Gothic architecture could not exist until vaulting was brought to perfection. Great mechanical inventions have taken place, both in architecture and in music, since the age of basilicas and Gregorians; and each science has gained by it." "It is curious enough," said Reding, "one thing I have been accustomed to say, quite falls in with this view of yours. When people who are not musicians have accused Handel and Beethoven of not being _simple_, I have always said, 'Is Gothic architecture _simple_?' A cathedral expresses one idea, but it is indefinitely varied and elaborated in its parts; so is a symphony or quartett of Beethoven." "Certainly, Bateman, you must tolerate Pagan architecture, or you must in consistency exclude Pagan or Jewish Gregorians," said Campbell; "you must tolerate figured music, or reprobate tracery windows." "And which are you for," asked Bateman, "Gothic with Handel, or Roman with Gregorians?" "For both in their place," answered Campbell. "I exceedingly prefer Gothic architecture to classical. I think it the one true child and development of Christianity; but I won't, for that reason, discard the Pagan style which has been sanctified by eighteen centuries, by the exclusive love of many Christian countries, and by the sanction of a host of saints. I am for toleration. Give Gothic an ascendancy; be respectful towards classical." The conversation slackened. "Much as I like modern music," said Charles, "I can't quite go the length to which your doctrine would lead me. I cannot, indeed, help liking Mozart; but surely his music is not religious." "I have not been speaking in defence of particular composers," said Campbell; "figured music may be right, yet Mozart or Beethoven inadmissible. In like manner, you don't suppose, because I tolerate Roman architecture, that therefore I like naked cupids to stand for cherubs, and sprawling women for the cardinal virtues." He paused. "Besides," he added, "as you were saying yourself just now, we must consult the genius of our country and the religious associations of our people." "Well," said Bateman, "I think the perfection of sacred music is Gregorian set to harmonies; there you have the glorious old chants, and just a little modern richness." "And I think it just the worst of all," answered Campbell; "it is a mixture of two things, each good in itself, and incongruous together. It's a mixture of the first and second courses at table. It's like the architecture of the fa ade at Milan, half Gothic, half Grecian." "It's what is always used, I believe," said Charles. "Oh yes, we must not go against the age," said Campbell; "it would be absurd to do so. I only spoke of what was right and wrong on abstract principles; and, to tell the truth, I can't help liking the mixture myself, though I can't defend it." Bateman rang for tea; his friends wished to return home soon; it was the month of January, and no season for after-dinner strolls. "Well," he said, "Campbell, you are more lenient to the age than to me; you yield to the age when it sets a figured bass to a Gregorian tone; but you laugh at me for setting a coat upon a cassock." "It's no honour to be the author of a mongrel type," said Campbell. "A mongrel type?" said Bateman; "rather it is a transition state." "What are you passing to?" asked Charles. "Talking of transitions," said Campbell abruptly, "do you know that your man Willis--I don't know his college, he turned Romanist--is living in my parish, and I have hopes he is making a transition back again." "Have you seen him?" said Charles. "No; I have called, but was unfortunate; he was out. He still goes to mass, I find." "Why, where does he find a chapel?" asked Bateman. "At Seaton. A good seven miles from you," said Charles. "Yes," answered Campbell; "and he walks to and fro every Sunday." "That is not like a transition, except a physical one," observed Reding. "A person must go somewhere," answered Campbell; "I suppose he went to church up to the week he joined the Romanists." "Very awful, these defections," said Bateman; "but very satisfactory, a melancholy satisfaction," with a look at Charles, "that the victims of delusions should be at length recovered." "Yes," said Campbell; "very sad indeed. I am afraid we must expect a number more." "Well, I don't know how to think it," said Charles; "the hold our Church has on the mind is so powerful; it is such a wrench to leave it, I cannot fancy any party-tie standing against it. Humanly speaking, there is far, far more to keep them fast than to carry them away." "Yes, if they moved as a party," said Campbell; "but that is not the case. They don't move simply because others move, but, poor fellows, because they can't help it.--Bateman, will you let my chaise be brought round?--How _can_ they help it?" continued he, standing up over the fire; "their Catholic principles lead them on, and there's nothing to drive them back." "Why should not their love for their own Church?" asked Bateman; "it is deplorable, unpardonable." "They will keep going one after another, as they ripen," said Campbell. "Did you hear the report--I did not think much of it myself," said Reding,--"that Smith was moving?" "Not impossible," answered Campbell thoughtfully. "Impossible, quite impossible," cried Bateman; "such a triumph to the enemy; I'll not believe it till I see it." "_Not_ impossible," repeated Campbell, as he buttoned and fitted his great-coat about him; "he has shifted his ground." His carriage was announced. "Mr. Reding, I believe I can take you part of your way, if you will accept of a seat in my pony-chaise." Charles accepted the offer; and Bateman was soon deserted by his two guests. CHAPTER XVII. Campbell put Charles down about half-way between Melford and his home. It was bright moonlight; and, after thanking his new friend for the lift, he bounded over the stile at the side of the road, and was at once buried in the shade of the copse along which his path lay. Soon he came in sight of a tall wooden Cross, which, in better days, had been a religious emblem, but had served in latter times to mark the boundary between two contiguous parishes. The moon was behind him, and the sacred symbol rose awfully in the pale sky, overhanging a pool, which was still venerated in the neighbourhood for its reported miraculous virtue. Charles, to his surprise, saw distinctly a man kneeling on the little mound out of which the Cross grew; nay, heard him, for his shoulders were bare, and he was using the discipline upon them, while he repeated what appeared to be some form of devotion. Charles stopped, unwilling to interrupt, yet not knowing how to pass; but the stranger had caught the sound of feet, and in a few seconds vanished from his view. He was overcome with a sudden emotion, which he could not control. "O happy times," he cried, "when faith was one! O blessed penitent, whoever you are, who know what to believe, and how to gain pardon, and can begin where others end! Here am I, in my twenty-third year, uncertain about everything, because I have nothing to trust." He drew near to the Cross, took off his hat, knelt down and kissed the wood, and prayed awhile that whatever might be the consequences, whatever the trial, whatever the loss, he might have grace to follow whithersoever God should call him. He then rose and turned to the cold well; he took some water in his palm and drank it. He felt as if he could have prayed to the Saint who owned that pool--St. Thomas the Martyr, he believed--to plead for him, and to aid him in his search after the true faith; but something whispered, "It is wrong;" and he checked the wish. So, regaining his hat, he passed away, and pursued his homeward path at a brisk pace. The family had retired for the night, and he went up without delay to his bedroom. Passing through his study, he found a letter lying on his table, without post-mark, which had come for him in his absence. He broke the seal; it was an anonymous paper, and began as follows:-- "_Questions for one whom it concerns._ 1. What is meant by the One Church of which the Creed speaks?" "This is too much for to-night," thought Charles, "it is late already;" and he folded it up again and threw it on his dressing-table. "Some well-meaning person, I dare say, who thinks he knows me." He wound up his watch, gave a yawn, and put on his slippers. "Who can there be in this neighbourhood to write it?" He opened it again. "It's certainly a Catholic's writing," he said. His mind glanced to the person whom he had seen under the Cross; perhaps it glanced further. He sat down and began reading _in extenso:_-- "_Questions for one whom it concerns._ 1. What is meant by the One Church of which the Creed speaks? 2. Is it a generalization or a thing? 3. Does it belong to past history or to the present time? 4. Does not Scripture speak of it as a kingdom? 5. And a kingdom which was to last to the end? 6. What is a kingdom? and what is meant when Scripture calls the Church a kingdom? 7. Is it a visible kingdom, or an invisible? 8. Can a kingdom have two governments, and these acting in contrary directions? 9. Is identity of institutions, opinions, or race, sufficient to make two nations one kingdom? 10. Is the Episcopal form, the hierarchy, or the Apostles' Creed, sufficient to make the Churches of Rome and of England one? 11. Where there are parts, does not unity require union, and a visible unity require a visible union? 12. How can two religions be the same which have utterly distinct worships and ideas of worship? 13. Can two religions be one, if the most sacred and peculiar act of worship in the one is called 'a blasphemous fable and dangerous deceit' in the other? 14. Has not the One Church of Christ one faith? 15. Can a Church be Christ's which has not one faith? 16. Which is contradictory to itself in its documents? 17. And in different centuries? 18. And in its documents contrasted with its divines? 19. And in its divines and members one with another? 20. What is _the_ faith of the English Church? 21. How many Councils does the English Church admit? 22. Does the English Church consider the present Nestorian and Jacobite Churches under an anathema, or part of the visible Church? 23. Is it necessary, or possible, to believe any one but a professed messenger from God? 24. Is the English Church, does she claim to be, a messenger from God? 25. Does she impart the truth, or bid us seek it? 26. If she leaves us to seek it, do members of the English Church seek it with that earnestness which Scripture enjoins? 27. Is a person safe who lives without faith, even though he seems to have hope and charity?" Charles got very sleepy before he reached the "twenty-seventhly." "It won't do," he said; "I am only losing my time. They seem well put; but they must stand over." He put the paper from him, said his prayers, and was soon fast asleep. Next morning, on waking, the subject of the letter came into his mind, and he lay for some time thinking over it. "Certainly," he said, "I do wish very much to be settled either in the English Church or somewhere else. I wish I knew _what_ Christianity was; I am ready to be at pains to seek it, and would accept it eagerly and thankfully, if found. But it's a work of time; all the paper-arguments in the world are unequal to giving one a view in a moment. There must be a process; they may shorten it, as medicine shortens physical processes, but they can't supersede its necessity. I recollect how all my religious doubts and theories went to flight on my dear father's death. They weren't part of me, and could not sustain rough weather. Conviction is the eyesight of the mind, not a conclusion from premises; God works it, and His works are slow. At least so it is with me. I can't believe on a sudden; if I attempt it, I shall be using words for things, and be sure to repent it. Or if not, I shall go right merely by hazard. I must move in what seems God's way; I can but put myself on the road; a higher power must overtake me, and carry me forward. At present I have a direct duty upon me, which my dear father left me, to take a good class. This is the path of duty. I won't put off the inquiry, but I'll let it proceed in that path. God can bless my reading to my spiritual illumination, as well as anything else. Saul sought his father's asses, and found a kingdom. All in good time. When I have taken my degree the subject will properly come on me." He sighed. "My degree! those odious Articles! rather, when I have passed my examination. Well, it's no good lying here;" and he jumped up, and signed himself with the Cross. His eye caught the letter. "It's well written--better than Willis could write; it's not Willis's. There's something about that Willis I don't understand. I wonder how he and his mother get on together. I don't think he _has_ any sisters." CHAPTER XVIII. Campbell had been much pleased with Reding, and his interest in him was not lessened by a hint from Bateman that his allegiance to the English Church was in danger. He called on him in no long time, asked him to dinner, and, when Charles had returned his invitation, and Campbell had accepted it, the beginning of an acquaintance was formed between the rectory at Sutton and the family at Boughton which grew into an intimacy as time went on. Campbell was a gentleman, a travelled man, of clear head and ardent mind, candid, well-read in English divinity, a devoted Anglican, and the incumbent of a living so well endowed as almost to be a dignity. Mary was pleased at the introduction, as bringing her brother under the influence of an intellect which he could not make light of; and, as Campbell had a carriage, it was natural that he should wish to save Charles the loss of a day's reading and the trouble of a muddy walk to the rectory and back by coming over himself to Boughton. Accordingly it so happened that he saw Charles twice at his mother's for once that he saw him at Sutton. But whatever came of these visits, nothing occurred which particularly bears upon the line of our narrative; so let them pass. One day Charles called upon Bateman, and, on entering the room, was surprised to see him and Campbell at luncheon, and in conversation with a third person. There was a moment's surprise and hesitation on seeing him before they rose and welcomed him as usual. When he looked at the stranger he felt a slight awkwardness himself, which he could not control. It was Willis; and apparently submitted to the process of reconversion. Charles was evidently _de trop_, but there was no help for it; so he shook hands with Willis, and accepted the pressing call of Bateman to seat himself at table, and to share their bread and cheese. Charles sat down opposite Willis, and for a while could not keep his eyes from him. At first he had some difficulty in believing he had before him the impetuous youth he had known two years and a half before. He had always been silent in general company; but in that he was changed, as in everything else. Not that he talked more than was natural, but he talked freely and easily. The great change, however, was in his appearance and manner. He had lost his bloom and youthfulness; his expression was sweeter indeed than before, and very placid, but there was a thin line down his face on each side of his mouth; his cheeks were wanting in fulness, and he had the air of a man of thirty. When he entered into conversation, and became animated, his former self returned. "I suppose we may all admire this cream at this season," said Charles, as he helped himself, "for we are none of us Devonshire men." "It's not peculiar to Devonshire," answered Campbell; "that is, they have it abroad. At Rome there is a sort of cream or cheese very like it, and very common." "Will butter and cream keep in so warm a climate?" asked Charles; "I fancied oil was the substitute." "Rome is not so warm as you fancy," said Willis, "except during the summer." "Oil? so it is," said Campbell; "thus we read in Scripture of the multiplication of the oil and meal, which seems to answer to bread and butter. The oil in Rome is excellent, so clear and pale; you can eat it as milk." "The taste, I suppose, is peculiar," observed Charles. "Just at first," answered Campbell; "but one soon gets used to it. All such substances, milk, butter, cheese, oil, have a particular taste at first, which use alone gets over. The rich Guernsey butter is too much for strangers, while Russians relish whale-oil. Most of our tastes are in a measure artificial." "It is certainly so with vegetables," said Willis; "when I was a boy I could not eat beans, spinach, asparagus, parsnips, and I think some others." "Therefore your hermit's fare is not only the most natural, but the only naturally palatable, I suppose,--a crust of bread and a draught from the stream," replied Campbell. "Or the Clerk of Copmanhurst's dry peas," said Charles. "The macaroni and grapes of the Neapolitans are as natural and more palatable," said Willis. "Rather they are a luxury," said Bateman. "No," answered Campbell, "not a luxury; a luxury is in its very idea a something _recherch _. Thus Horace speaks of the '_peregrina lagois_.' What nature yields _sponte su _ around you, however delicious, is no luxury. Wild ducks are no luxury in your old neighbourhood, amid your Oxford fens, Bateman; nor grapes at Naples." "Then the old women here are luxurious over their sixpenn'rth of tea," said Bateman; "for it comes from China." Campbell was posed for an instant. Somehow neither he nor Bateman were quite at their ease, whether with themselves or with each other; it might be Charles's sudden intrusion, or something which had happened before it. Campbell answered at length that steamers and railroads were making strange changes; that time and place were vanishing, and price would soon be the only measure of luxury. "This seems the measure also of _grasso_ and _magro_ food in Italy," said Willis; "for I think there are dispensations for butcher's meat in Lent, in consequence of the dearness of bread and oil." "This seems to show that the age for abstinences and fastings is past," observed Campbell; "for it's absurd to keep Lent on beef and mutton." "Oh, Campbell, what are you saying?" cried Bateman; "past! are we bound by their lax ways in Italy?" "I do certainly think," answered Campbell, "that fasting is unsuitable to this age, in England as well as in Rome." "Take care, my fine fellows," thought Charles; "keep your ranks, or you won't secure your prisoner." "What, not fast on Friday!" cried Bateman; "we always did so most rigidly at Oxford." "It does you credit," answered Campbell; "but I am of Cambridge." "But what do you say to Rubrics and the Calendar?" insisted Bateman. "They are not binding," answered Campbell. "They _are_, binding," said Bateman. A pause, as between the rounds of a boxing-match. Reding interposed: "Bateman, cut me, please, a bit of your capital bread--home-made, I suppose?" "A thousand pardons!" said Bateman:--"not binding?--Pass it to him, Willis, if you please. Yes, it comes from a farmer, next door. I'm glad you like it.--I repeat, they _are_ binding, Campbell." "An odd sort of binding, when they have never bound," answered Campbell; "they have existed two or three hundred years; when were they ever put in force?" "But there they are," said Bateman, "in the Prayer Book." "Yes, and there let them lie and never get out of it," retorted Campbell; "there they will stay till the end of the story." "Oh, for shame!" cried Bateman; "you should aid your mother in a difficulty, and not be like the priest and the Levite." "My mother does not wish to be aided," continued Campbell. "Oh, how you talk! What shall I do? What can be done?" cried poor Bateman. "Done! nothing," said Campbell; "is there no such thing as the desuetude of a law? Does not a law cease to be binding when it is not enforced? I appeal to Mr. Willis." Willis, thus addressed, answered that he was no moral theologian, but he had attended some schools, and he believed it was the Catholic rule that when a law had been promulgated, and was not observed by the majority, if the legislator knew the state of the case, and yet kept silence, he was considered _ipso facto_ to revoke it. "What!" said Bateman to Campbell, "do you appeal to the Romish Church?" "No," answered Campbell; "I appeal to the whole Catholic Church, of which the Church of Rome happens in this particular case to be the exponent. It is plain common sense, that, if a law is not enforced, at length it ceases to be binding. Else it would be quite a tyranny; we should not know where we were. The Church of Rome does but give expression to this common-sense view." "Well, then," said Bateman, "I will appeal to the Church of Rome too. Rome is part of the Catholic Church as well as we: since, then, the Romish Church has ever kept up fastings the ordinance is not abolished; the 'greater part' of the Catholic Church has always observed it." "But it has not," said Campbell; "it now dispenses with fasts, as you have heard." Willis interposed to ask a question. "Do you mean then," he said to Bateman, "that the Church of England and the Church of Rome make one Church?" "Most certainly," answered Bateman. "Is it possible?" said Willis; "in what sense of the word _one_?" "In every sense," answered Bateman, "but that of intercommunion." "That is, I suppose," said Willis, "they are one, except that they have no intercourse with each other." Bateman assented. Willis continued: "No intercourse; that is, no social dealings, no consulting or arranging, no ordering and obeying, no mutual support; in short, no visible union." Bateman still assented. "Well, that is my difficulty," said Willis; "I can't understand how two parts can make up one visible body if they are not visibly united; unity implies _union_." "I don't see that at all," said Bateman; "I don't see that at all. No, Willis, you must not expect I shall give that up to you; it is one of our points. There is only one visible Church, and therefore the English and Romish Churches are both parts of it." Campbell saw clearly that Bateman had got into a difficulty, and he came to the rescue in his own way. "We must distinguish," he said, "the state of the case more exactly. A kingdom may be divided, it may be distracted by parties, by dissensions, yet be still a kingdom. That, I conceive, is the real condition of the Church; in this way the Churches of England, Rome, and Greece are one." "I suppose you will grant," said Willis, "that in proportion as a rebellion is strong, so is the unity of the kingdom threatened; and if a rebellion is successful, or if the parties in a civil war manage to divide the power and territory between them, then forthwith, instead of one kingdom, we have two. Ten or fifteen years since, Belgium was part of the kingdom of the Netherlands: I suppose you would not call it part of that kingdom now? This seems the case of the Churches of Rome and England." "Still, a kingdom may be in a state of decay," replied Campbell; "consider the case of the Turkish Empire at this moment. The Union between its separate portions is so languid, that each separate Pasha may almost be termed a separate sovereign; still it is one kingdom." "The Church, then, at present," said Willis, "is a kingdom tending to dissolution?" "Certainly it is," answered Campbell. "And will ultimately fail?" asked Willis. "Certainly," said Campbell; "when the end comes, according to our Lord's saying, 'When the Son of man cometh, shall He find faith on the earth?' just as in the case of the chosen people, the sceptre failed from Judah when the Shiloh came." "Surely the Church has failed already _before_ the end," said Willis, "according to the view you take of failing. How _can_ any separation be more complete than exists at present between Rome, Greece, and England?" "They might excommunicate each other," said Campbell. "Then you are willing," said Willis, "to assign beforehand something definite, the occurrence of which will constitute a real separation." "Don't do so," said Reding to Campbell; "it is dangerous; don't commit yourself in a moral question; for then, if the thing specified did occur, it would be difficult to see our way." "No," said Willis; "you certainly _would_ be in a difficulty; but you would find your way out, I know. In that case you would choose some other _ultimatum_ as your test of schism. There would be," he added, speaking with some emotion, "'in the lowest depth a lower still.'" The concluding words were out of keeping with the tone of the conversation hitherto, and fairly excited Bateman, who, for some time, had been an impatient listener. "That's a dangerous line, Campbell," he said, "it is indeed; I can't go along with you. It will never do to say that the Church is failing; no, it never fails. It is always strong, and pure, and perfect, as the Prophets describe it. Look at its cathedrals, abbey-churches, and other sanctuaries, these fitly typify it." "My dear Bateman," answered Campbell, "I am as willing as you to maintain the fulfilment of the prophecies made to the Church, but we must allow the _fact_ that the branches of the Church are _divided_, while we maintain the _doctrine_, that the Church should be one." "I don't see that at all," answered Bateman; "no, we need not allow it. There's no such thing as Churches, there's but one Church everywhere, and it is _not_ divided. It is merely the outward forms, appearances, manifestations of the Church that are divided. The Church is one as much as ever it was." "That will never do," said Campbell; and he stood up before the fire in

mixture

How many times the word 'mixture' appears in the text?

Both existed before Christianity; both are of Pagan origin; both were afterwards consecrated to the service of the Church." "Pardon me," interrupted Bateman, "Gregorians were Jewish, not Pagan." "Be it so, for argument sake," said Campbell; "still, at least, they were not of Christian origin. Next, both the old music and the old architecture were inartificial and limited, as methods of exhibiting their respective arts. You can't have a large Grecian temple, you can't have a long Gregorian _Gloria_." "Not a long one!" said Bateman; "why there's poor Willis used to complain how tedious the old Gregorian compositions were abroad." "I don't explain myself," answered Campbell; "of course you may produce them to any length, but merely by addition, not by carrying on the melody. You can put two together, and then have one twice as long as either. But I speak of a musical piece, which must of course be the natural development of certain ideas, with one part depending on another. In like manner, you might make an Ionic temple twice as long or twice as wide as the Parthenon; but you would lose the beauty of proportion by doing so. This, then, is what I meant to say of the primitive architecture and the primitive music, that they soon come to their limit; they soon are exhausted, and can do nothing more. If you attempt more, it's like taxing a musical instrument beyond its powers." "You but try, Bateman," said Reding, "to make a bass play quadrilles, and you will see what is meant by taxing an instrument." "Well, I have heard Lindley play all sorts of quick tunes on his bass," said Bateman, "and most wonderful it is." "Wonderful is the right word," answered Reding; "it is very wonderful. You say, 'How _can_ he manage it?' and 'It's very wonderful for a bass;' but it is not pleasant in itself. In like manner, I have always felt a disgust when Mr. So-and-so comes forward to make his sweet flute bleat and bray like a hautbois; it's forcing the poor thing to do what it was never made for." "This is literally true as regards Gregorian music," said Campbell; "instruments did not exist in primitive times which could execute any other. But I am speaking under correction; Mr. Reding seems to know more about the subject than I do." "I have always understood, as you say," answered Charles, "modern music did not come into existence till after the powers of the violin became known. Corelli himself, who wrote not two hundred years ago, hardly ventures on the shift. The piano, again, I have heard, has almost given birth to Beethoven." "Modern music, then, could not be in ancient times, for want of modern instruments," said Campbell; "and, in like manner, Gothic architecture could not exist until vaulting was brought to perfection. Great mechanical inventions have taken place, both in architecture and in music, since the age of basilicas and Gregorians; and each science has gained by it." "It is curious enough," said Reding, "one thing I have been accustomed to say, quite falls in with this view of yours. When people who are not musicians have accused Handel and Beethoven of not being _simple_, I have always said, 'Is Gothic architecture _simple_?' A cathedral expresses one idea, but it is indefinitely varied and elaborated in its parts; so is a symphony or quartett of Beethoven." "Certainly, Bateman, you must tolerate Pagan architecture, or you must in consistency exclude Pagan or Jewish Gregorians," said Campbell; "you must tolerate figured music, or reprobate tracery windows." "And which are you for," asked Bateman, "Gothic with Handel, or Roman with Gregorians?" "For both in their place," answered Campbell. "I exceedingly prefer Gothic architecture to classical. I think it the one true child and development of Christianity; but I won't, for that reason, discard the Pagan style which has been sanctified by eighteen centuries, by the exclusive love of many Christian countries, and by the sanction of a host of saints. I am for toleration. Give Gothic an ascendancy; be respectful towards classical." The conversation slackened. "Much as I like modern music," said Charles, "I can't quite go the length to which your doctrine would lead me. I cannot, indeed, help liking Mozart; but surely his music is not religious." "I have not been speaking in defence of particular composers," said Campbell; "figured music may be right, yet Mozart or Beethoven inadmissible. In like manner, you don't suppose, because I tolerate Roman architecture, that therefore I like naked cupids to stand for cherubs, and sprawling women for the cardinal virtues." He paused. "Besides," he added, "as you were saying yourself just now, we must consult the genius of our country and the religious associations of our people." "Well," said Bateman, "I think the perfection of sacred music is Gregorian set to harmonies; there you have the glorious old chants, and just a little modern richness." "And I think it just the worst of all," answered Campbell; "it is a mixture of two things, each good in itself, and incongruous together. It's a mixture of the first and second courses at table. It's like the architecture of the fa ade at Milan, half Gothic, half Grecian." "It's what is always used, I believe," said Charles. "Oh yes, we must not go against the age," said Campbell; "it would be absurd to do so. I only spoke of what was right and wrong on abstract principles; and, to tell the truth, I can't help liking the mixture myself, though I can't defend it." Bateman rang for tea; his friends wished to return home soon; it was the month of January, and no season for after-dinner strolls. "Well," he said, "Campbell, you are more lenient to the age than to me; you yield to the age when it sets a figured bass to a Gregorian tone; but you laugh at me for setting a coat upon a cassock." "It's no honour to be the author of a mongrel type," said Campbell. "A mongrel type?" said Bateman; "rather it is a transition state." "What are you passing to?" asked Charles. "Talking of transitions," said Campbell abruptly, "do you know that your man Willis--I don't know his college, he turned Romanist--is living in my parish, and I have hopes he is making a transition back again." "Have you seen him?" said Charles. "No; I have called, but was unfortunate; he was out. He still goes to mass, I find." "Why, where does he find a chapel?" asked Bateman. "At Seaton. A good seven miles from you," said Charles. "Yes," answered Campbell; "and he walks to and fro every Sunday." "That is not like a transition, except a physical one," observed Reding. "A person must go somewhere," answered Campbell; "I suppose he went to church up to the week he joined the Romanists." "Very awful, these defections," said Bateman; "but very satisfactory, a melancholy satisfaction," with a look at Charles, "that the victims of delusions should be at length recovered." "Yes," said Campbell; "very sad indeed. I am afraid we must expect a number more." "Well, I don't know how to think it," said Charles; "the hold our Church has on the mind is so powerful; it is such a wrench to leave it, I cannot fancy any party-tie standing against it. Humanly speaking, there is far, far more to keep them fast than to carry them away." "Yes, if they moved as a party," said Campbell; "but that is not the case. They don't move simply because others move, but, poor fellows, because they can't help it.--Bateman, will you let my chaise be brought round?--How _can_ they help it?" continued he, standing up over the fire; "their Catholic principles lead them on, and there's nothing to drive them back." "Why should not their love for their own Church?" asked Bateman; "it is deplorable, unpardonable." "They will keep going one after another, as they ripen," said Campbell. "Did you hear the report--I did not think much of it myself," said Reding,--"that Smith was moving?" "Not impossible," answered Campbell thoughtfully. "Impossible, quite impossible," cried Bateman; "such a triumph to the enemy; I'll not believe it till I see it." "_Not_ impossible," repeated Campbell, as he buttoned and fitted his great-coat about him; "he has shifted his ground." His carriage was announced. "Mr. Reding, I believe I can take you part of your way, if you will accept of a seat in my pony-chaise." Charles accepted the offer; and Bateman was soon deserted by his two guests. CHAPTER XVII. Campbell put Charles down about half-way between Melford and his home. It was bright moonlight; and, after thanking his new friend for the lift, he bounded over the stile at the side of the road, and was at once buried in the shade of the copse along which his path lay. Soon he came in sight of a tall wooden Cross, which, in better days, had been a religious emblem, but had served in latter times to mark the boundary between two contiguous parishes. The moon was behind him, and the sacred symbol rose awfully in the pale sky, overhanging a pool, which was still venerated in the neighbourhood for its reported miraculous virtue. Charles, to his surprise, saw distinctly a man kneeling on the little mound out of which the Cross grew; nay, heard him, for his shoulders were bare, and he was using the discipline upon them, while he repeated what appeared to be some form of devotion. Charles stopped, unwilling to interrupt, yet not knowing how to pass; but the stranger had caught the sound of feet, and in a few seconds vanished from his view. He was overcome with a sudden emotion, which he could not control. "O happy times," he cried, "when faith was one! O blessed penitent, whoever you are, who know what to believe, and how to gain pardon, and can begin where others end! Here am I, in my twenty-third year, uncertain about everything, because I have nothing to trust." He drew near to the Cross, took off his hat, knelt down and kissed the wood, and prayed awhile that whatever might be the consequences, whatever the trial, whatever the loss, he might have grace to follow whithersoever God should call him. He then rose and turned to the cold well; he took some water in his palm and drank it. He felt as if he could have prayed to the Saint who owned that pool--St. Thomas the Martyr, he believed--to plead for him, and to aid him in his search after the true faith; but something whispered, "It is wrong;" and he checked the wish. So, regaining his hat, he passed away, and pursued his homeward path at a brisk pace. The family had retired for the night, and he went up without delay to his bedroom. Passing through his study, he found a letter lying on his table, without post-mark, which had come for him in his absence. He broke the seal; it was an anonymous paper, and began as follows:-- "_Questions for one whom it concerns._ 1. What is meant by the One Church of which the Creed speaks?" "This is too much for to-night," thought Charles, "it is late already;" and he folded it up again and threw it on his dressing-table. "Some well-meaning person, I dare say, who thinks he knows me." He wound up his watch, gave a yawn, and put on his slippers. "Who can there be in this neighbourhood to write it?" He opened it again. "It's certainly a Catholic's writing," he said. His mind glanced to the person whom he had seen under the Cross; perhaps it glanced further. He sat down and began reading _in extenso:_-- "_Questions for one whom it concerns._ 1. What is meant by the One Church of which the Creed speaks? 2. Is it a generalization or a thing? 3. Does it belong to past history or to the present time? 4. Does not Scripture speak of it as a kingdom? 5. And a kingdom which was to last to the end? 6. What is a kingdom? and what is meant when Scripture calls the Church a kingdom? 7. Is it a visible kingdom, or an invisible? 8. Can a kingdom have two governments, and these acting in contrary directions? 9. Is identity of institutions, opinions, or race, sufficient to make two nations one kingdom? 10. Is the Episcopal form, the hierarchy, or the Apostles' Creed, sufficient to make the Churches of Rome and of England one? 11. Where there are parts, does not unity require union, and a visible unity require a visible union? 12. How can two religions be the same which have utterly distinct worships and ideas of worship? 13. Can two religions be one, if the most sacred and peculiar act of worship in the one is called 'a blasphemous fable and dangerous deceit' in the other? 14. Has not the One Church of Christ one faith? 15. Can a Church be Christ's which has not one faith? 16. Which is contradictory to itself in its documents? 17. And in different centuries? 18. And in its documents contrasted with its divines? 19. And in its divines and members one with another? 20. What is _the_ faith of the English Church? 21. How many Councils does the English Church admit? 22. Does the English Church consider the present Nestorian and Jacobite Churches under an anathema, or part of the visible Church? 23. Is it necessary, or possible, to believe any one but a professed messenger from God? 24. Is the English Church, does she claim to be, a messenger from God? 25. Does she impart the truth, or bid us seek it? 26. If she leaves us to seek it, do members of the English Church seek it with that earnestness which Scripture enjoins? 27. Is a person safe who lives without faith, even though he seems to have hope and charity?" Charles got very sleepy before he reached the "twenty-seventhly." "It won't do," he said; "I am only losing my time. They seem well put; but they must stand over." He put the paper from him, said his prayers, and was soon fast asleep. Next morning, on waking, the subject of the letter came into his mind, and he lay for some time thinking over it. "Certainly," he said, "I do wish very much to be settled either in the English Church or somewhere else. I wish I knew _what_ Christianity was; I am ready to be at pains to seek it, and would accept it eagerly and thankfully, if found. But it's a work of time; all the paper-arguments in the world are unequal to giving one a view in a moment. There must be a process; they may shorten it, as medicine shortens physical processes, but they can't supersede its necessity. I recollect how all my religious doubts and theories went to flight on my dear father's death. They weren't part of me, and could not sustain rough weather. Conviction is the eyesight of the mind, not a conclusion from premises; God works it, and His works are slow. At least so it is with me. I can't believe on a sudden; if I attempt it, I shall be using words for things, and be sure to repent it. Or if not, I shall go right merely by hazard. I must move in what seems God's way; I can but put myself on the road; a higher power must overtake me, and carry me forward. At present I have a direct duty upon me, which my dear father left me, to take a good class. This is the path of duty. I won't put off the inquiry, but I'll let it proceed in that path. God can bless my reading to my spiritual illumination, as well as anything else. Saul sought his father's asses, and found a kingdom. All in good time. When I have taken my degree the subject will properly come on me." He sighed. "My degree! those odious Articles! rather, when I have passed my examination. Well, it's no good lying here;" and he jumped up, and signed himself with the Cross. His eye caught the letter. "It's well written--better than Willis could write; it's not Willis's. There's something about that Willis I don't understand. I wonder how he and his mother get on together. I don't think he _has_ any sisters." CHAPTER XVIII. Campbell had been much pleased with Reding, and his interest in him was not lessened by a hint from Bateman that his allegiance to the English Church was in danger. He called on him in no long time, asked him to dinner, and, when Charles had returned his invitation, and Campbell had accepted it, the beginning of an acquaintance was formed between the rectory at Sutton and the family at Boughton which grew into an intimacy as time went on. Campbell was a gentleman, a travelled man, of clear head and ardent mind, candid, well-read in English divinity, a devoted Anglican, and the incumbent of a living so well endowed as almost to be a dignity. Mary was pleased at the introduction, as bringing her brother under the influence of an intellect which he could not make light of; and, as Campbell had a carriage, it was natural that he should wish to save Charles the loss of a day's reading and the trouble of a muddy walk to the rectory and back by coming over himself to Boughton. Accordingly it so happened that he saw Charles twice at his mother's for once that he saw him at Sutton. But whatever came of these visits, nothing occurred which particularly bears upon the line of our narrative; so let them pass. One day Charles called upon Bateman, and, on entering the room, was surprised to see him and Campbell at luncheon, and in conversation with a third person. There was a moment's surprise and hesitation on seeing him before they rose and welcomed him as usual. When he looked at the stranger he felt a slight awkwardness himself, which he could not control. It was Willis; and apparently submitted to the process of reconversion. Charles was evidently _de trop_, but there was no help for it; so he shook hands with Willis, and accepted the pressing call of Bateman to seat himself at table, and to share their bread and cheese. Charles sat down opposite Willis, and for a while could not keep his eyes from him. At first he had some difficulty in believing he had before him the impetuous youth he had known two years and a half before. He had always been silent in general company; but in that he was changed, as in everything else. Not that he talked more than was natural, but he talked freely and easily. The great change, however, was in his appearance and manner. He had lost his bloom and youthfulness; his expression was sweeter indeed than before, and very placid, but there was a thin line down his face on each side of his mouth; his cheeks were wanting in fulness, and he had the air of a man of thirty. When he entered into conversation, and became animated, his former self returned. "I suppose we may all admire this cream at this season," said Charles, as he helped himself, "for we are none of us Devonshire men." "It's not peculiar to Devonshire," answered Campbell; "that is, they have it abroad. At Rome there is a sort of cream or cheese very like it, and very common." "Will butter and cream keep in so warm a climate?" asked Charles; "I fancied oil was the substitute." "Rome is not so warm as you fancy," said Willis, "except during the summer." "Oil? so it is," said Campbell; "thus we read in Scripture of the multiplication of the oil and meal, which seems to answer to bread and butter. The oil in Rome is excellent, so clear and pale; you can eat it as milk." "The taste, I suppose, is peculiar," observed Charles. "Just at first," answered Campbell; "but one soon gets used to it. All such substances, milk, butter, cheese, oil, have a particular taste at first, which use alone gets over. The rich Guernsey butter is too much for strangers, while Russians relish whale-oil. Most of our tastes are in a measure artificial." "It is certainly so with vegetables," said Willis; "when I was a boy I could not eat beans, spinach, asparagus, parsnips, and I think some others." "Therefore your hermit's fare is not only the most natural, but the only naturally palatable, I suppose,--a crust of bread and a draught from the stream," replied Campbell. "Or the Clerk of Copmanhurst's dry peas," said Charles. "The macaroni and grapes of the Neapolitans are as natural and more palatable," said Willis. "Rather they are a luxury," said Bateman. "No," answered Campbell, "not a luxury; a luxury is in its very idea a something _recherch _. Thus Horace speaks of the '_peregrina lagois_.' What nature yields _sponte su _ around you, however delicious, is no luxury. Wild ducks are no luxury in your old neighbourhood, amid your Oxford fens, Bateman; nor grapes at Naples." "Then the old women here are luxurious over their sixpenn'rth of tea," said Bateman; "for it comes from China." Campbell was posed for an instant. Somehow neither he nor Bateman were quite at their ease, whether with themselves or with each other; it might be Charles's sudden intrusion, or something which had happened before it. Campbell answered at length that steamers and railroads were making strange changes; that time and place were vanishing, and price would soon be the only measure of luxury. "This seems the measure also of _grasso_ and _magro_ food in Italy," said Willis; "for I think there are dispensations for butcher's meat in Lent, in consequence of the dearness of bread and oil." "This seems to show that the age for abstinences and fastings is past," observed Campbell; "for it's absurd to keep Lent on beef and mutton." "Oh, Campbell, what are you saying?" cried Bateman; "past! are we bound by their lax ways in Italy?" "I do certainly think," answered Campbell, "that fasting is unsuitable to this age, in England as well as in Rome." "Take care, my fine fellows," thought Charles; "keep your ranks, or you won't secure your prisoner." "What, not fast on Friday!" cried Bateman; "we always did so most rigidly at Oxford." "It does you credit," answered Campbell; "but I am of Cambridge." "But what do you say to Rubrics and the Calendar?" insisted Bateman. "They are not binding," answered Campbell. "They _are_, binding," said Bateman. A pause, as between the rounds of a boxing-match. Reding interposed: "Bateman, cut me, please, a bit of your capital bread--home-made, I suppose?" "A thousand pardons!" said Bateman:--"not binding?--Pass it to him, Willis, if you please. Yes, it comes from a farmer, next door. I'm glad you like it.--I repeat, they _are_ binding, Campbell." "An odd sort of binding, when they have never bound," answered Campbell; "they have existed two or three hundred years; when were they ever put in force?" "But there they are," said Bateman, "in the Prayer Book." "Yes, and there let them lie and never get out of it," retorted Campbell; "there they will stay till the end of the story." "Oh, for shame!" cried Bateman; "you should aid your mother in a difficulty, and not be like the priest and the Levite." "My mother does not wish to be aided," continued Campbell. "Oh, how you talk! What shall I do? What can be done?" cried poor Bateman. "Done! nothing," said Campbell; "is there no such thing as the desuetude of a law? Does not a law cease to be binding when it is not enforced? I appeal to Mr. Willis." Willis, thus addressed, answered that he was no moral theologian, but he had attended some schools, and he believed it was the Catholic rule that when a law had been promulgated, and was not observed by the majority, if the legislator knew the state of the case, and yet kept silence, he was considered _ipso facto_ to revoke it. "What!" said Bateman to Campbell, "do you appeal to the Romish Church?" "No," answered Campbell; "I appeal to the whole Catholic Church, of which the Church of Rome happens in this particular case to be the exponent. It is plain common sense, that, if a law is not enforced, at length it ceases to be binding. Else it would be quite a tyranny; we should not know where we were. The Church of Rome does but give expression to this common-sense view." "Well, then," said Bateman, "I will appeal to the Church of Rome too. Rome is part of the Catholic Church as well as we: since, then, the Romish Church has ever kept up fastings the ordinance is not abolished; the 'greater part' of the Catholic Church has always observed it." "But it has not," said Campbell; "it now dispenses with fasts, as you have heard." Willis interposed to ask a question. "Do you mean then," he said to Bateman, "that the Church of England and the Church of Rome make one Church?" "Most certainly," answered Bateman. "Is it possible?" said Willis; "in what sense of the word _one_?" "In every sense," answered Bateman, "but that of intercommunion." "That is, I suppose," said Willis, "they are one, except that they have no intercourse with each other." Bateman assented. Willis continued: "No intercourse; that is, no social dealings, no consulting or arranging, no ordering and obeying, no mutual support; in short, no visible union." Bateman still assented. "Well, that is my difficulty," said Willis; "I can't understand how two parts can make up one visible body if they are not visibly united; unity implies _union_." "I don't see that at all," said Bateman; "I don't see that at all. No, Willis, you must not expect I shall give that up to you; it is one of our points. There is only one visible Church, and therefore the English and Romish Churches are both parts of it." Campbell saw clearly that Bateman had got into a difficulty, and he came to the rescue in his own way. "We must distinguish," he said, "the state of the case more exactly. A kingdom may be divided, it may be distracted by parties, by dissensions, yet be still a kingdom. That, I conceive, is the real condition of the Church; in this way the Churches of England, Rome, and Greece are one." "I suppose you will grant," said Willis, "that in proportion as a rebellion is strong, so is the unity of the kingdom threatened; and if a rebellion is successful, or if the parties in a civil war manage to divide the power and territory between them, then forthwith, instead of one kingdom, we have two. Ten or fifteen years since, Belgium was part of the kingdom of the Netherlands: I suppose you would not call it part of that kingdom now? This seems the case of the Churches of Rome and England." "Still, a kingdom may be in a state of decay," replied Campbell; "consider the case of the Turkish Empire at this moment. The Union between its separate portions is so languid, that each separate Pasha may almost be termed a separate sovereign; still it is one kingdom." "The Church, then, at present," said Willis, "is a kingdom tending to dissolution?" "Certainly it is," answered Campbell. "And will ultimately fail?" asked Willis. "Certainly," said Campbell; "when the end comes, according to our Lord's saying, 'When the Son of man cometh, shall He find faith on the earth?' just as in the case of the chosen people, the sceptre failed from Judah when the Shiloh came." "Surely the Church has failed already _before_ the end," said Willis, "according to the view you take of failing. How _can_ any separation be more complete than exists at present between Rome, Greece, and England?" "They might excommunicate each other," said Campbell. "Then you are willing," said Willis, "to assign beforehand something definite, the occurrence of which will constitute a real separation." "Don't do so," said Reding to Campbell; "it is dangerous; don't commit yourself in a moral question; for then, if the thing specified did occur, it would be difficult to see our way." "No," said Willis; "you certainly _would_ be in a difficulty; but you would find your way out, I know. In that case you would choose some other _ultimatum_ as your test of schism. There would be," he added, speaking with some emotion, "'in the lowest depth a lower still.'" The concluding words were out of keeping with the tone of the conversation hitherto, and fairly excited Bateman, who, for some time, had been an impatient listener. "That's a dangerous line, Campbell," he said, "it is indeed; I can't go along with you. It will never do to say that the Church is failing; no, it never fails. It is always strong, and pure, and perfect, as the Prophets describe it. Look at its cathedrals, abbey-churches, and other sanctuaries, these fitly typify it." "My dear Bateman," answered Campbell, "I am as willing as you to maintain the fulfilment of the prophecies made to the Church, but we must allow the _fact_ that the branches of the Church are _divided_, while we maintain the _doctrine_, that the Church should be one." "I don't see that at all," answered Bateman; "no, we need not allow it. There's no such thing as Churches, there's but one Church everywhere, and it is _not_ divided. It is merely the outward forms, appearances, manifestations of the Church that are divided. The Church is one as much as ever it was." "That will never do," said Campbell; and he stood up before the fire in

prefer

How many times the word 'prefer' appears in the text?

Both existed before Christianity; both are of Pagan origin; both were afterwards consecrated to the service of the Church." "Pardon me," interrupted Bateman, "Gregorians were Jewish, not Pagan." "Be it so, for argument sake," said Campbell; "still, at least, they were not of Christian origin. Next, both the old music and the old architecture were inartificial and limited, as methods of exhibiting their respective arts. You can't have a large Grecian temple, you can't have a long Gregorian _Gloria_." "Not a long one!" said Bateman; "why there's poor Willis used to complain how tedious the old Gregorian compositions were abroad." "I don't explain myself," answered Campbell; "of course you may produce them to any length, but merely by addition, not by carrying on the melody. You can put two together, and then have one twice as long as either. But I speak of a musical piece, which must of course be the natural development of certain ideas, with one part depending on another. In like manner, you might make an Ionic temple twice as long or twice as wide as the Parthenon; but you would lose the beauty of proportion by doing so. This, then, is what I meant to say of the primitive architecture and the primitive music, that they soon come to their limit; they soon are exhausted, and can do nothing more. If you attempt more, it's like taxing a musical instrument beyond its powers." "You but try, Bateman," said Reding, "to make a bass play quadrilles, and you will see what is meant by taxing an instrument." "Well, I have heard Lindley play all sorts of quick tunes on his bass," said Bateman, "and most wonderful it is." "Wonderful is the right word," answered Reding; "it is very wonderful. You say, 'How _can_ he manage it?' and 'It's very wonderful for a bass;' but it is not pleasant in itself. In like manner, I have always felt a disgust when Mr. So-and-so comes forward to make his sweet flute bleat and bray like a hautbois; it's forcing the poor thing to do what it was never made for." "This is literally true as regards Gregorian music," said Campbell; "instruments did not exist in primitive times which could execute any other. But I am speaking under correction; Mr. Reding seems to know more about the subject than I do." "I have always understood, as you say," answered Charles, "modern music did not come into existence till after the powers of the violin became known. Corelli himself, who wrote not two hundred years ago, hardly ventures on the shift. The piano, again, I have heard, has almost given birth to Beethoven." "Modern music, then, could not be in ancient times, for want of modern instruments," said Campbell; "and, in like manner, Gothic architecture could not exist until vaulting was brought to perfection. Great mechanical inventions have taken place, both in architecture and in music, since the age of basilicas and Gregorians; and each science has gained by it." "It is curious enough," said Reding, "one thing I have been accustomed to say, quite falls in with this view of yours. When people who are not musicians have accused Handel and Beethoven of not being _simple_, I have always said, 'Is Gothic architecture _simple_?' A cathedral expresses one idea, but it is indefinitely varied and elaborated in its parts; so is a symphony or quartett of Beethoven." "Certainly, Bateman, you must tolerate Pagan architecture, or you must in consistency exclude Pagan or Jewish Gregorians," said Campbell; "you must tolerate figured music, or reprobate tracery windows." "And which are you for," asked Bateman, "Gothic with Handel, or Roman with Gregorians?" "For both in their place," answered Campbell. "I exceedingly prefer Gothic architecture to classical. I think it the one true child and development of Christianity; but I won't, for that reason, discard the Pagan style which has been sanctified by eighteen centuries, by the exclusive love of many Christian countries, and by the sanction of a host of saints. I am for toleration. Give Gothic an ascendancy; be respectful towards classical." The conversation slackened. "Much as I like modern music," said Charles, "I can't quite go the length to which your doctrine would lead me. I cannot, indeed, help liking Mozart; but surely his music is not religious." "I have not been speaking in defence of particular composers," said Campbell; "figured music may be right, yet Mozart or Beethoven inadmissible. In like manner, you don't suppose, because I tolerate Roman architecture, that therefore I like naked cupids to stand for cherubs, and sprawling women for the cardinal virtues." He paused. "Besides," he added, "as you were saying yourself just now, we must consult the genius of our country and the religious associations of our people." "Well," said Bateman, "I think the perfection of sacred music is Gregorian set to harmonies; there you have the glorious old chants, and just a little modern richness." "And I think it just the worst of all," answered Campbell; "it is a mixture of two things, each good in itself, and incongruous together. It's a mixture of the first and second courses at table. It's like the architecture of the fa ade at Milan, half Gothic, half Grecian." "It's what is always used, I believe," said Charles. "Oh yes, we must not go against the age," said Campbell; "it would be absurd to do so. I only spoke of what was right and wrong on abstract principles; and, to tell the truth, I can't help liking the mixture myself, though I can't defend it." Bateman rang for tea; his friends wished to return home soon; it was the month of January, and no season for after-dinner strolls. "Well," he said, "Campbell, you are more lenient to the age than to me; you yield to the age when it sets a figured bass to a Gregorian tone; but you laugh at me for setting a coat upon a cassock." "It's no honour to be the author of a mongrel type," said Campbell. "A mongrel type?" said Bateman; "rather it is a transition state." "What are you passing to?" asked Charles. "Talking of transitions," said Campbell abruptly, "do you know that your man Willis--I don't know his college, he turned Romanist--is living in my parish, and I have hopes he is making a transition back again." "Have you seen him?" said Charles. "No; I have called, but was unfortunate; he was out. He still goes to mass, I find." "Why, where does he find a chapel?" asked Bateman. "At Seaton. A good seven miles from you," said Charles. "Yes," answered Campbell; "and he walks to and fro every Sunday." "That is not like a transition, except a physical one," observed Reding. "A person must go somewhere," answered Campbell; "I suppose he went to church up to the week he joined the Romanists." "Very awful, these defections," said Bateman; "but very satisfactory, a melancholy satisfaction," with a look at Charles, "that the victims of delusions should be at length recovered." "Yes," said Campbell; "very sad indeed. I am afraid we must expect a number more." "Well, I don't know how to think it," said Charles; "the hold our Church has on the mind is so powerful; it is such a wrench to leave it, I cannot fancy any party-tie standing against it. Humanly speaking, there is far, far more to keep them fast than to carry them away." "Yes, if they moved as a party," said Campbell; "but that is not the case. They don't move simply because others move, but, poor fellows, because they can't help it.--Bateman, will you let my chaise be brought round?--How _can_ they help it?" continued he, standing up over the fire; "their Catholic principles lead them on, and there's nothing to drive them back." "Why should not their love for their own Church?" asked Bateman; "it is deplorable, unpardonable." "They will keep going one after another, as they ripen," said Campbell. "Did you hear the report--I did not think much of it myself," said Reding,--"that Smith was moving?" "Not impossible," answered Campbell thoughtfully. "Impossible, quite impossible," cried Bateman; "such a triumph to the enemy; I'll not believe it till I see it." "_Not_ impossible," repeated Campbell, as he buttoned and fitted his great-coat about him; "he has shifted his ground." His carriage was announced. "Mr. Reding, I believe I can take you part of your way, if you will accept of a seat in my pony-chaise." Charles accepted the offer; and Bateman was soon deserted by his two guests. CHAPTER XVII. Campbell put Charles down about half-way between Melford and his home. It was bright moonlight; and, after thanking his new friend for the lift, he bounded over the stile at the side of the road, and was at once buried in the shade of the copse along which his path lay. Soon he came in sight of a tall wooden Cross, which, in better days, had been a religious emblem, but had served in latter times to mark the boundary between two contiguous parishes. The moon was behind him, and the sacred symbol rose awfully in the pale sky, overhanging a pool, which was still venerated in the neighbourhood for its reported miraculous virtue. Charles, to his surprise, saw distinctly a man kneeling on the little mound out of which the Cross grew; nay, heard him, for his shoulders were bare, and he was using the discipline upon them, while he repeated what appeared to be some form of devotion. Charles stopped, unwilling to interrupt, yet not knowing how to pass; but the stranger had caught the sound of feet, and in a few seconds vanished from his view. He was overcome with a sudden emotion, which he could not control. "O happy times," he cried, "when faith was one! O blessed penitent, whoever you are, who know what to believe, and how to gain pardon, and can begin where others end! Here am I, in my twenty-third year, uncertain about everything, because I have nothing to trust." He drew near to the Cross, took off his hat, knelt down and kissed the wood, and prayed awhile that whatever might be the consequences, whatever the trial, whatever the loss, he might have grace to follow whithersoever God should call him. He then rose and turned to the cold well; he took some water in his palm and drank it. He felt as if he could have prayed to the Saint who owned that pool--St. Thomas the Martyr, he believed--to plead for him, and to aid him in his search after the true faith; but something whispered, "It is wrong;" and he checked the wish. So, regaining his hat, he passed away, and pursued his homeward path at a brisk pace. The family had retired for the night, and he went up without delay to his bedroom. Passing through his study, he found a letter lying on his table, without post-mark, which had come for him in his absence. He broke the seal; it was an anonymous paper, and began as follows:-- "_Questions for one whom it concerns._ 1. What is meant by the One Church of which the Creed speaks?" "This is too much for to-night," thought Charles, "it is late already;" and he folded it up again and threw it on his dressing-table. "Some well-meaning person, I dare say, who thinks he knows me." He wound up his watch, gave a yawn, and put on his slippers. "Who can there be in this neighbourhood to write it?" He opened it again. "It's certainly a Catholic's writing," he said. His mind glanced to the person whom he had seen under the Cross; perhaps it glanced further. He sat down and began reading _in extenso:_-- "_Questions for one whom it concerns._ 1. What is meant by the One Church of which the Creed speaks? 2. Is it a generalization or a thing? 3. Does it belong to past history or to the present time? 4. Does not Scripture speak of it as a kingdom? 5. And a kingdom which was to last to the end? 6. What is a kingdom? and what is meant when Scripture calls the Church a kingdom? 7. Is it a visible kingdom, or an invisible? 8. Can a kingdom have two governments, and these acting in contrary directions? 9. Is identity of institutions, opinions, or race, sufficient to make two nations one kingdom? 10. Is the Episcopal form, the hierarchy, or the Apostles' Creed, sufficient to make the Churches of Rome and of England one? 11. Where there are parts, does not unity require union, and a visible unity require a visible union? 12. How can two religions be the same which have utterly distinct worships and ideas of worship? 13. Can two religions be one, if the most sacred and peculiar act of worship in the one is called 'a blasphemous fable and dangerous deceit' in the other? 14. Has not the One Church of Christ one faith? 15. Can a Church be Christ's which has not one faith? 16. Which is contradictory to itself in its documents? 17. And in different centuries? 18. And in its documents contrasted with its divines? 19. And in its divines and members one with another? 20. What is _the_ faith of the English Church? 21. How many Councils does the English Church admit? 22. Does the English Church consider the present Nestorian and Jacobite Churches under an anathema, or part of the visible Church? 23. Is it necessary, or possible, to believe any one but a professed messenger from God? 24. Is the English Church, does she claim to be, a messenger from God? 25. Does she impart the truth, or bid us seek it? 26. If she leaves us to seek it, do members of the English Church seek it with that earnestness which Scripture enjoins? 27. Is a person safe who lives without faith, even though he seems to have hope and charity?" Charles got very sleepy before he reached the "twenty-seventhly." "It won't do," he said; "I am only losing my time. They seem well put; but they must stand over." He put the paper from him, said his prayers, and was soon fast asleep. Next morning, on waking, the subject of the letter came into his mind, and he lay for some time thinking over it. "Certainly," he said, "I do wish very much to be settled either in the English Church or somewhere else. I wish I knew _what_ Christianity was; I am ready to be at pains to seek it, and would accept it eagerly and thankfully, if found. But it's a work of time; all the paper-arguments in the world are unequal to giving one a view in a moment. There must be a process; they may shorten it, as medicine shortens physical processes, but they can't supersede its necessity. I recollect how all my religious doubts and theories went to flight on my dear father's death. They weren't part of me, and could not sustain rough weather. Conviction is the eyesight of the mind, not a conclusion from premises; God works it, and His works are slow. At least so it is with me. I can't believe on a sudden; if I attempt it, I shall be using words for things, and be sure to repent it. Or if not, I shall go right merely by hazard. I must move in what seems God's way; I can but put myself on the road; a higher power must overtake me, and carry me forward. At present I have a direct duty upon me, which my dear father left me, to take a good class. This is the path of duty. I won't put off the inquiry, but I'll let it proceed in that path. God can bless my reading to my spiritual illumination, as well as anything else. Saul sought his father's asses, and found a kingdom. All in good time. When I have taken my degree the subject will properly come on me." He sighed. "My degree! those odious Articles! rather, when I have passed my examination. Well, it's no good lying here;" and he jumped up, and signed himself with the Cross. His eye caught the letter. "It's well written--better than Willis could write; it's not Willis's. There's something about that Willis I don't understand. I wonder how he and his mother get on together. I don't think he _has_ any sisters." CHAPTER XVIII. Campbell had been much pleased with Reding, and his interest in him was not lessened by a hint from Bateman that his allegiance to the English Church was in danger. He called on him in no long time, asked him to dinner, and, when Charles had returned his invitation, and Campbell had accepted it, the beginning of an acquaintance was formed between the rectory at Sutton and the family at Boughton which grew into an intimacy as time went on. Campbell was a gentleman, a travelled man, of clear head and ardent mind, candid, well-read in English divinity, a devoted Anglican, and the incumbent of a living so well endowed as almost to be a dignity. Mary was pleased at the introduction, as bringing her brother under the influence of an intellect which he could not make light of; and, as Campbell had a carriage, it was natural that he should wish to save Charles the loss of a day's reading and the trouble of a muddy walk to the rectory and back by coming over himself to Boughton. Accordingly it so happened that he saw Charles twice at his mother's for once that he saw him at Sutton. But whatever came of these visits, nothing occurred which particularly bears upon the line of our narrative; so let them pass. One day Charles called upon Bateman, and, on entering the room, was surprised to see him and Campbell at luncheon, and in conversation with a third person. There was a moment's surprise and hesitation on seeing him before they rose and welcomed him as usual. When he looked at the stranger he felt a slight awkwardness himself, which he could not control. It was Willis; and apparently submitted to the process of reconversion. Charles was evidently _de trop_, but there was no help for it; so he shook hands with Willis, and accepted the pressing call of Bateman to seat himself at table, and to share their bread and cheese. Charles sat down opposite Willis, and for a while could not keep his eyes from him. At first he had some difficulty in believing he had before him the impetuous youth he had known two years and a half before. He had always been silent in general company; but in that he was changed, as in everything else. Not that he talked more than was natural, but he talked freely and easily. The great change, however, was in his appearance and manner. He had lost his bloom and youthfulness; his expression was sweeter indeed than before, and very placid, but there was a thin line down his face on each side of his mouth; his cheeks were wanting in fulness, and he had the air of a man of thirty. When he entered into conversation, and became animated, his former self returned. "I suppose we may all admire this cream at this season," said Charles, as he helped himself, "for we are none of us Devonshire men." "It's not peculiar to Devonshire," answered Campbell; "that is, they have it abroad. At Rome there is a sort of cream or cheese very like it, and very common." "Will butter and cream keep in so warm a climate?" asked Charles; "I fancied oil was the substitute." "Rome is not so warm as you fancy," said Willis, "except during the summer." "Oil? so it is," said Campbell; "thus we read in Scripture of the multiplication of the oil and meal, which seems to answer to bread and butter. The oil in Rome is excellent, so clear and pale; you can eat it as milk." "The taste, I suppose, is peculiar," observed Charles. "Just at first," answered Campbell; "but one soon gets used to it. All such substances, milk, butter, cheese, oil, have a particular taste at first, which use alone gets over. The rich Guernsey butter is too much for strangers, while Russians relish whale-oil. Most of our tastes are in a measure artificial." "It is certainly so with vegetables," said Willis; "when I was a boy I could not eat beans, spinach, asparagus, parsnips, and I think some others." "Therefore your hermit's fare is not only the most natural, but the only naturally palatable, I suppose,--a crust of bread and a draught from the stream," replied Campbell. "Or the Clerk of Copmanhurst's dry peas," said Charles. "The macaroni and grapes of the Neapolitans are as natural and more palatable," said Willis. "Rather they are a luxury," said Bateman. "No," answered Campbell, "not a luxury; a luxury is in its very idea a something _recherch _. Thus Horace speaks of the '_peregrina lagois_.' What nature yields _sponte su _ around you, however delicious, is no luxury. Wild ducks are no luxury in your old neighbourhood, amid your Oxford fens, Bateman; nor grapes at Naples." "Then the old women here are luxurious over their sixpenn'rth of tea," said Bateman; "for it comes from China." Campbell was posed for an instant. Somehow neither he nor Bateman were quite at their ease, whether with themselves or with each other; it might be Charles's sudden intrusion, or something which had happened before it. Campbell answered at length that steamers and railroads were making strange changes; that time and place were vanishing, and price would soon be the only measure of luxury. "This seems the measure also of _grasso_ and _magro_ food in Italy," said Willis; "for I think there are dispensations for butcher's meat in Lent, in consequence of the dearness of bread and oil." "This seems to show that the age for abstinences and fastings is past," observed Campbell; "for it's absurd to keep Lent on beef and mutton." "Oh, Campbell, what are you saying?" cried Bateman; "past! are we bound by their lax ways in Italy?" "I do certainly think," answered Campbell, "that fasting is unsuitable to this age, in England as well as in Rome." "Take care, my fine fellows," thought Charles; "keep your ranks, or you won't secure your prisoner." "What, not fast on Friday!" cried Bateman; "we always did so most rigidly at Oxford." "It does you credit," answered Campbell; "but I am of Cambridge." "But what do you say to Rubrics and the Calendar?" insisted Bateman. "They are not binding," answered Campbell. "They _are_, binding," said Bateman. A pause, as between the rounds of a boxing-match. Reding interposed: "Bateman, cut me, please, a bit of your capital bread--home-made, I suppose?" "A thousand pardons!" said Bateman:--"not binding?--Pass it to him, Willis, if you please. Yes, it comes from a farmer, next door. I'm glad you like it.--I repeat, they _are_ binding, Campbell." "An odd sort of binding, when they have never bound," answered Campbell; "they have existed two or three hundred years; when were they ever put in force?" "But there they are," said Bateman, "in the Prayer Book." "Yes, and there let them lie and never get out of it," retorted Campbell; "there they will stay till the end of the story." "Oh, for shame!" cried Bateman; "you should aid your mother in a difficulty, and not be like the priest and the Levite." "My mother does not wish to be aided," continued Campbell. "Oh, how you talk! What shall I do? What can be done?" cried poor Bateman. "Done! nothing," said Campbell; "is there no such thing as the desuetude of a law? Does not a law cease to be binding when it is not enforced? I appeal to Mr. Willis." Willis, thus addressed, answered that he was no moral theologian, but he had attended some schools, and he believed it was the Catholic rule that when a law had been promulgated, and was not observed by the majority, if the legislator knew the state of the case, and yet kept silence, he was considered _ipso facto_ to revoke it. "What!" said Bateman to Campbell, "do you appeal to the Romish Church?" "No," answered Campbell; "I appeal to the whole Catholic Church, of which the Church of Rome happens in this particular case to be the exponent. It is plain common sense, that, if a law is not enforced, at length it ceases to be binding. Else it would be quite a tyranny; we should not know where we were. The Church of Rome does but give expression to this common-sense view." "Well, then," said Bateman, "I will appeal to the Church of Rome too. Rome is part of the Catholic Church as well as we: since, then, the Romish Church has ever kept up fastings the ordinance is not abolished; the 'greater part' of the Catholic Church has always observed it." "But it has not," said Campbell; "it now dispenses with fasts, as you have heard." Willis interposed to ask a question. "Do you mean then," he said to Bateman, "that the Church of England and the Church of Rome make one Church?" "Most certainly," answered Bateman. "Is it possible?" said Willis; "in what sense of the word _one_?" "In every sense," answered Bateman, "but that of intercommunion." "That is, I suppose," said Willis, "they are one, except that they have no intercourse with each other." Bateman assented. Willis continued: "No intercourse; that is, no social dealings, no consulting or arranging, no ordering and obeying, no mutual support; in short, no visible union." Bateman still assented. "Well, that is my difficulty," said Willis; "I can't understand how two parts can make up one visible body if they are not visibly united; unity implies _union_." "I don't see that at all," said Bateman; "I don't see that at all. No, Willis, you must not expect I shall give that up to you; it is one of our points. There is only one visible Church, and therefore the English and Romish Churches are both parts of it." Campbell saw clearly that Bateman had got into a difficulty, and he came to the rescue in his own way. "We must distinguish," he said, "the state of the case more exactly. A kingdom may be divided, it may be distracted by parties, by dissensions, yet be still a kingdom. That, I conceive, is the real condition of the Church; in this way the Churches of England, Rome, and Greece are one." "I suppose you will grant," said Willis, "that in proportion as a rebellion is strong, so is the unity of the kingdom threatened; and if a rebellion is successful, or if the parties in a civil war manage to divide the power and territory between them, then forthwith, instead of one kingdom, we have two. Ten or fifteen years since, Belgium was part of the kingdom of the Netherlands: I suppose you would not call it part of that kingdom now? This seems the case of the Churches of Rome and England." "Still, a kingdom may be in a state of decay," replied Campbell; "consider the case of the Turkish Empire at this moment. The Union between its separate portions is so languid, that each separate Pasha may almost be termed a separate sovereign; still it is one kingdom." "The Church, then, at present," said Willis, "is a kingdom tending to dissolution?" "Certainly it is," answered Campbell. "And will ultimately fail?" asked Willis. "Certainly," said Campbell; "when the end comes, according to our Lord's saying, 'When the Son of man cometh, shall He find faith on the earth?' just as in the case of the chosen people, the sceptre failed from Judah when the Shiloh came." "Surely the Church has failed already _before_ the end," said Willis, "according to the view you take of failing. How _can_ any separation be more complete than exists at present between Rome, Greece, and England?" "They might excommunicate each other," said Campbell. "Then you are willing," said Willis, "to assign beforehand something definite, the occurrence of which will constitute a real separation." "Don't do so," said Reding to Campbell; "it is dangerous; don't commit yourself in a moral question; for then, if the thing specified did occur, it would be difficult to see our way." "No," said Willis; "you certainly _would_ be in a difficulty; but you would find your way out, I know. In that case you would choose some other _ultimatum_ as your test of schism. There would be," he added, speaking with some emotion, "'in the lowest depth a lower still.'" The concluding words were out of keeping with the tone of the conversation hitherto, and fairly excited Bateman, who, for some time, had been an impatient listener. "That's a dangerous line, Campbell," he said, "it is indeed; I can't go along with you. It will never do to say that the Church is failing; no, it never fails. It is always strong, and pure, and perfect, as the Prophets describe it. Look at its cathedrals, abbey-churches, and other sanctuaries, these fitly typify it." "My dear Bateman," answered Campbell, "I am as willing as you to maintain the fulfilment of the prophecies made to the Church, but we must allow the _fact_ that the branches of the Church are _divided_, while we maintain the _doctrine_, that the Church should be one." "I don't see that at all," answered Bateman; "no, we need not allow it. There's no such thing as Churches, there's but one Church everywhere, and it is _not_ divided. It is merely the outward forms, appearances, manifestations of the Church that are divided. The Church is one as much as ever it was." "That will never do," said Campbell; and he stood up before the fire in

glanced

How many times the word 'glanced' appears in the text?

Both existed before Christianity; both are of Pagan origin; both were afterwards consecrated to the service of the Church." "Pardon me," interrupted Bateman, "Gregorians were Jewish, not Pagan." "Be it so, for argument sake," said Campbell; "still, at least, they were not of Christian origin. Next, both the old music and the old architecture were inartificial and limited, as methods of exhibiting their respective arts. You can't have a large Grecian temple, you can't have a long Gregorian _Gloria_." "Not a long one!" said Bateman; "why there's poor Willis used to complain how tedious the old Gregorian compositions were abroad." "I don't explain myself," answered Campbell; "of course you may produce them to any length, but merely by addition, not by carrying on the melody. You can put two together, and then have one twice as long as either. But I speak of a musical piece, which must of course be the natural development of certain ideas, with one part depending on another. In like manner, you might make an Ionic temple twice as long or twice as wide as the Parthenon; but you would lose the beauty of proportion by doing so. This, then, is what I meant to say of the primitive architecture and the primitive music, that they soon come to their limit; they soon are exhausted, and can do nothing more. If you attempt more, it's like taxing a musical instrument beyond its powers." "You but try, Bateman," said Reding, "to make a bass play quadrilles, and you will see what is meant by taxing an instrument." "Well, I have heard Lindley play all sorts of quick tunes on his bass," said Bateman, "and most wonderful it is." "Wonderful is the right word," answered Reding; "it is very wonderful. You say, 'How _can_ he manage it?' and 'It's very wonderful for a bass;' but it is not pleasant in itself. In like manner, I have always felt a disgust when Mr. So-and-so comes forward to make his sweet flute bleat and bray like a hautbois; it's forcing the poor thing to do what it was never made for." "This is literally true as regards Gregorian music," said Campbell; "instruments did not exist in primitive times which could execute any other. But I am speaking under correction; Mr. Reding seems to know more about the subject than I do." "I have always understood, as you say," answered Charles, "modern music did not come into existence till after the powers of the violin became known. Corelli himself, who wrote not two hundred years ago, hardly ventures on the shift. The piano, again, I have heard, has almost given birth to Beethoven." "Modern music, then, could not be in ancient times, for want of modern instruments," said Campbell; "and, in like manner, Gothic architecture could not exist until vaulting was brought to perfection. Great mechanical inventions have taken place, both in architecture and in music, since the age of basilicas and Gregorians; and each science has gained by it." "It is curious enough," said Reding, "one thing I have been accustomed to say, quite falls in with this view of yours. When people who are not musicians have accused Handel and Beethoven of not being _simple_, I have always said, 'Is Gothic architecture _simple_?' A cathedral expresses one idea, but it is indefinitely varied and elaborated in its parts; so is a symphony or quartett of Beethoven." "Certainly, Bateman, you must tolerate Pagan architecture, or you must in consistency exclude Pagan or Jewish Gregorians," said Campbell; "you must tolerate figured music, or reprobate tracery windows." "And which are you for," asked Bateman, "Gothic with Handel, or Roman with Gregorians?" "For both in their place," answered Campbell. "I exceedingly prefer Gothic architecture to classical. I think it the one true child and development of Christianity; but I won't, for that reason, discard the Pagan style which has been sanctified by eighteen centuries, by the exclusive love of many Christian countries, and by the sanction of a host of saints. I am for toleration. Give Gothic an ascendancy; be respectful towards classical." The conversation slackened. "Much as I like modern music," said Charles, "I can't quite go the length to which your doctrine would lead me. I cannot, indeed, help liking Mozart; but surely his music is not religious." "I have not been speaking in defence of particular composers," said Campbell; "figured music may be right, yet Mozart or Beethoven inadmissible. In like manner, you don't suppose, because I tolerate Roman architecture, that therefore I like naked cupids to stand for cherubs, and sprawling women for the cardinal virtues." He paused. "Besides," he added, "as you were saying yourself just now, we must consult the genius of our country and the religious associations of our people." "Well," said Bateman, "I think the perfection of sacred music is Gregorian set to harmonies; there you have the glorious old chants, and just a little modern richness." "And I think it just the worst of all," answered Campbell; "it is a mixture of two things, each good in itself, and incongruous together. It's a mixture of the first and second courses at table. It's like the architecture of the fa ade at Milan, half Gothic, half Grecian." "It's what is always used, I believe," said Charles. "Oh yes, we must not go against the age," said Campbell; "it would be absurd to do so. I only spoke of what was right and wrong on abstract principles; and, to tell the truth, I can't help liking the mixture myself, though I can't defend it." Bateman rang for tea; his friends wished to return home soon; it was the month of January, and no season for after-dinner strolls. "Well," he said, "Campbell, you are more lenient to the age than to me; you yield to the age when it sets a figured bass to a Gregorian tone; but you laugh at me for setting a coat upon a cassock." "It's no honour to be the author of a mongrel type," said Campbell. "A mongrel type?" said Bateman; "rather it is a transition state." "What are you passing to?" asked Charles. "Talking of transitions," said Campbell abruptly, "do you know that your man Willis--I don't know his college, he turned Romanist--is living in my parish, and I have hopes he is making a transition back again." "Have you seen him?" said Charles. "No; I have called, but was unfortunate; he was out. He still goes to mass, I find." "Why, where does he find a chapel?" asked Bateman. "At Seaton. A good seven miles from you," said Charles. "Yes," answered Campbell; "and he walks to and fro every Sunday." "That is not like a transition, except a physical one," observed Reding. "A person must go somewhere," answered Campbell; "I suppose he went to church up to the week he joined the Romanists." "Very awful, these defections," said Bateman; "but very satisfactory, a melancholy satisfaction," with a look at Charles, "that the victims of delusions should be at length recovered." "Yes," said Campbell; "very sad indeed. I am afraid we must expect a number more." "Well, I don't know how to think it," said Charles; "the hold our Church has on the mind is so powerful; it is such a wrench to leave it, I cannot fancy any party-tie standing against it. Humanly speaking, there is far, far more to keep them fast than to carry them away." "Yes, if they moved as a party," said Campbell; "but that is not the case. They don't move simply because others move, but, poor fellows, because they can't help it.--Bateman, will you let my chaise be brought round?--How _can_ they help it?" continued he, standing up over the fire; "their Catholic principles lead them on, and there's nothing to drive them back." "Why should not their love for their own Church?" asked Bateman; "it is deplorable, unpardonable." "They will keep going one after another, as they ripen," said Campbell. "Did you hear the report--I did not think much of it myself," said Reding,--"that Smith was moving?" "Not impossible," answered Campbell thoughtfully. "Impossible, quite impossible," cried Bateman; "such a triumph to the enemy; I'll not believe it till I see it." "_Not_ impossible," repeated Campbell, as he buttoned and fitted his great-coat about him; "he has shifted his ground." His carriage was announced. "Mr. Reding, I believe I can take you part of your way, if you will accept of a seat in my pony-chaise." Charles accepted the offer; and Bateman was soon deserted by his two guests. CHAPTER XVII. Campbell put Charles down about half-way between Melford and his home. It was bright moonlight; and, after thanking his new friend for the lift, he bounded over the stile at the side of the road, and was at once buried in the shade of the copse along which his path lay. Soon he came in sight of a tall wooden Cross, which, in better days, had been a religious emblem, but had served in latter times to mark the boundary between two contiguous parishes. The moon was behind him, and the sacred symbol rose awfully in the pale sky, overhanging a pool, which was still venerated in the neighbourhood for its reported miraculous virtue. Charles, to his surprise, saw distinctly a man kneeling on the little mound out of which the Cross grew; nay, heard him, for his shoulders were bare, and he was using the discipline upon them, while he repeated what appeared to be some form of devotion. Charles stopped, unwilling to interrupt, yet not knowing how to pass; but the stranger had caught the sound of feet, and in a few seconds vanished from his view. He was overcome with a sudden emotion, which he could not control. "O happy times," he cried, "when faith was one! O blessed penitent, whoever you are, who know what to believe, and how to gain pardon, and can begin where others end! Here am I, in my twenty-third year, uncertain about everything, because I have nothing to trust." He drew near to the Cross, took off his hat, knelt down and kissed the wood, and prayed awhile that whatever might be the consequences, whatever the trial, whatever the loss, he might have grace to follow whithersoever God should call him. He then rose and turned to the cold well; he took some water in his palm and drank it. He felt as if he could have prayed to the Saint who owned that pool--St. Thomas the Martyr, he believed--to plead for him, and to aid him in his search after the true faith; but something whispered, "It is wrong;" and he checked the wish. So, regaining his hat, he passed away, and pursued his homeward path at a brisk pace. The family had retired for the night, and he went up without delay to his bedroom. Passing through his study, he found a letter lying on his table, without post-mark, which had come for him in his absence. He broke the seal; it was an anonymous paper, and began as follows:-- "_Questions for one whom it concerns._ 1. What is meant by the One Church of which the Creed speaks?" "This is too much for to-night," thought Charles, "it is late already;" and he folded it up again and threw it on his dressing-table. "Some well-meaning person, I dare say, who thinks he knows me." He wound up his watch, gave a yawn, and put on his slippers. "Who can there be in this neighbourhood to write it?" He opened it again. "It's certainly a Catholic's writing," he said. His mind glanced to the person whom he had seen under the Cross; perhaps it glanced further. He sat down and began reading _in extenso:_-- "_Questions for one whom it concerns._ 1. What is meant by the One Church of which the Creed speaks? 2. Is it a generalization or a thing? 3. Does it belong to past history or to the present time? 4. Does not Scripture speak of it as a kingdom? 5. And a kingdom which was to last to the end? 6. What is a kingdom? and what is meant when Scripture calls the Church a kingdom? 7. Is it a visible kingdom, or an invisible? 8. Can a kingdom have two governments, and these acting in contrary directions? 9. Is identity of institutions, opinions, or race, sufficient to make two nations one kingdom? 10. Is the Episcopal form, the hierarchy, or the Apostles' Creed, sufficient to make the Churches of Rome and of England one? 11. Where there are parts, does not unity require union, and a visible unity require a visible union? 12. How can two religions be the same which have utterly distinct worships and ideas of worship? 13. Can two religions be one, if the most sacred and peculiar act of worship in the one is called 'a blasphemous fable and dangerous deceit' in the other? 14. Has not the One Church of Christ one faith? 15. Can a Church be Christ's which has not one faith? 16. Which is contradictory to itself in its documents? 17. And in different centuries? 18. And in its documents contrasted with its divines? 19. And in its divines and members one with another? 20. What is _the_ faith of the English Church? 21. How many Councils does the English Church admit? 22. Does the English Church consider the present Nestorian and Jacobite Churches under an anathema, or part of the visible Church? 23. Is it necessary, or possible, to believe any one but a professed messenger from God? 24. Is the English Church, does she claim to be, a messenger from God? 25. Does she impart the truth, or bid us seek it? 26. If she leaves us to seek it, do members of the English Church seek it with that earnestness which Scripture enjoins? 27. Is a person safe who lives without faith, even though he seems to have hope and charity?" Charles got very sleepy before he reached the "twenty-seventhly." "It won't do," he said; "I am only losing my time. They seem well put; but they must stand over." He put the paper from him, said his prayers, and was soon fast asleep. Next morning, on waking, the subject of the letter came into his mind, and he lay for some time thinking over it. "Certainly," he said, "I do wish very much to be settled either in the English Church or somewhere else. I wish I knew _what_ Christianity was; I am ready to be at pains to seek it, and would accept it eagerly and thankfully, if found. But it's a work of time; all the paper-arguments in the world are unequal to giving one a view in a moment. There must be a process; they may shorten it, as medicine shortens physical processes, but they can't supersede its necessity. I recollect how all my religious doubts and theories went to flight on my dear father's death. They weren't part of me, and could not sustain rough weather. Conviction is the eyesight of the mind, not a conclusion from premises; God works it, and His works are slow. At least so it is with me. I can't believe on a sudden; if I attempt it, I shall be using words for things, and be sure to repent it. Or if not, I shall go right merely by hazard. I must move in what seems God's way; I can but put myself on the road; a higher power must overtake me, and carry me forward. At present I have a direct duty upon me, which my dear father left me, to take a good class. This is the path of duty. I won't put off the inquiry, but I'll let it proceed in that path. God can bless my reading to my spiritual illumination, as well as anything else. Saul sought his father's asses, and found a kingdom. All in good time. When I have taken my degree the subject will properly come on me." He sighed. "My degree! those odious Articles! rather, when I have passed my examination. Well, it's no good lying here;" and he jumped up, and signed himself with the Cross. His eye caught the letter. "It's well written--better than Willis could write; it's not Willis's. There's something about that Willis I don't understand. I wonder how he and his mother get on together. I don't think he _has_ any sisters." CHAPTER XVIII. Campbell had been much pleased with Reding, and his interest in him was not lessened by a hint from Bateman that his allegiance to the English Church was in danger. He called on him in no long time, asked him to dinner, and, when Charles had returned his invitation, and Campbell had accepted it, the beginning of an acquaintance was formed between the rectory at Sutton and the family at Boughton which grew into an intimacy as time went on. Campbell was a gentleman, a travelled man, of clear head and ardent mind, candid, well-read in English divinity, a devoted Anglican, and the incumbent of a living so well endowed as almost to be a dignity. Mary was pleased at the introduction, as bringing her brother under the influence of an intellect which he could not make light of; and, as Campbell had a carriage, it was natural that he should wish to save Charles the loss of a day's reading and the trouble of a muddy walk to the rectory and back by coming over himself to Boughton. Accordingly it so happened that he saw Charles twice at his mother's for once that he saw him at Sutton. But whatever came of these visits, nothing occurred which particularly bears upon the line of our narrative; so let them pass. One day Charles called upon Bateman, and, on entering the room, was surprised to see him and Campbell at luncheon, and in conversation with a third person. There was a moment's surprise and hesitation on seeing him before they rose and welcomed him as usual. When he looked at the stranger he felt a slight awkwardness himself, which he could not control. It was Willis; and apparently submitted to the process of reconversion. Charles was evidently _de trop_, but there was no help for it; so he shook hands with Willis, and accepted the pressing call of Bateman to seat himself at table, and to share their bread and cheese. Charles sat down opposite Willis, and for a while could not keep his eyes from him. At first he had some difficulty in believing he had before him the impetuous youth he had known two years and a half before. He had always been silent in general company; but in that he was changed, as in everything else. Not that he talked more than was natural, but he talked freely and easily. The great change, however, was in his appearance and manner. He had lost his bloom and youthfulness; his expression was sweeter indeed than before, and very placid, but there was a thin line down his face on each side of his mouth; his cheeks were wanting in fulness, and he had the air of a man of thirty. When he entered into conversation, and became animated, his former self returned. "I suppose we may all admire this cream at this season," said Charles, as he helped himself, "for we are none of us Devonshire men." "It's not peculiar to Devonshire," answered Campbell; "that is, they have it abroad. At Rome there is a sort of cream or cheese very like it, and very common." "Will butter and cream keep in so warm a climate?" asked Charles; "I fancied oil was the substitute." "Rome is not so warm as you fancy," said Willis, "except during the summer." "Oil? so it is," said Campbell; "thus we read in Scripture of the multiplication of the oil and meal, which seems to answer to bread and butter. The oil in Rome is excellent, so clear and pale; you can eat it as milk." "The taste, I suppose, is peculiar," observed Charles. "Just at first," answered Campbell; "but one soon gets used to it. All such substances, milk, butter, cheese, oil, have a particular taste at first, which use alone gets over. The rich Guernsey butter is too much for strangers, while Russians relish whale-oil. Most of our tastes are in a measure artificial." "It is certainly so with vegetables," said Willis; "when I was a boy I could not eat beans, spinach, asparagus, parsnips, and I think some others." "Therefore your hermit's fare is not only the most natural, but the only naturally palatable, I suppose,--a crust of bread and a draught from the stream," replied Campbell. "Or the Clerk of Copmanhurst's dry peas," said Charles. "The macaroni and grapes of the Neapolitans are as natural and more palatable," said Willis. "Rather they are a luxury," said Bateman. "No," answered Campbell, "not a luxury; a luxury is in its very idea a something _recherch _. Thus Horace speaks of the '_peregrina lagois_.' What nature yields _sponte su _ around you, however delicious, is no luxury. Wild ducks are no luxury in your old neighbourhood, amid your Oxford fens, Bateman; nor grapes at Naples." "Then the old women here are luxurious over their sixpenn'rth of tea," said Bateman; "for it comes from China." Campbell was posed for an instant. Somehow neither he nor Bateman were quite at their ease, whether with themselves or with each other; it might be Charles's sudden intrusion, or something which had happened before it. Campbell answered at length that steamers and railroads were making strange changes; that time and place were vanishing, and price would soon be the only measure of luxury. "This seems the measure also of _grasso_ and _magro_ food in Italy," said Willis; "for I think there are dispensations for butcher's meat in Lent, in consequence of the dearness of bread and oil." "This seems to show that the age for abstinences and fastings is past," observed Campbell; "for it's absurd to keep Lent on beef and mutton." "Oh, Campbell, what are you saying?" cried Bateman; "past! are we bound by their lax ways in Italy?" "I do certainly think," answered Campbell, "that fasting is unsuitable to this age, in England as well as in Rome." "Take care, my fine fellows," thought Charles; "keep your ranks, or you won't secure your prisoner." "What, not fast on Friday!" cried Bateman; "we always did so most rigidly at Oxford." "It does you credit," answered Campbell; "but I am of Cambridge." "But what do you say to Rubrics and the Calendar?" insisted Bateman. "They are not binding," answered Campbell. "They _are_, binding," said Bateman. A pause, as between the rounds of a boxing-match. Reding interposed: "Bateman, cut me, please, a bit of your capital bread--home-made, I suppose?" "A thousand pardons!" said Bateman:--"not binding?--Pass it to him, Willis, if you please. Yes, it comes from a farmer, next door. I'm glad you like it.--I repeat, they _are_ binding, Campbell." "An odd sort of binding, when they have never bound," answered Campbell; "they have existed two or three hundred years; when were they ever put in force?" "But there they are," said Bateman, "in the Prayer Book." "Yes, and there let them lie and never get out of it," retorted Campbell; "there they will stay till the end of the story." "Oh, for shame!" cried Bateman; "you should aid your mother in a difficulty, and not be like the priest and the Levite." "My mother does not wish to be aided," continued Campbell. "Oh, how you talk! What shall I do? What can be done?" cried poor Bateman. "Done! nothing," said Campbell; "is there no such thing as the desuetude of a law? Does not a law cease to be binding when it is not enforced? I appeal to Mr. Willis." Willis, thus addressed, answered that he was no moral theologian, but he had attended some schools, and he believed it was the Catholic rule that when a law had been promulgated, and was not observed by the majority, if the legislator knew the state of the case, and yet kept silence, he was considered _ipso facto_ to revoke it. "What!" said Bateman to Campbell, "do you appeal to the Romish Church?" "No," answered Campbell; "I appeal to the whole Catholic Church, of which the Church of Rome happens in this particular case to be the exponent. It is plain common sense, that, if a law is not enforced, at length it ceases to be binding. Else it would be quite a tyranny; we should not know where we were. The Church of Rome does but give expression to this common-sense view." "Well, then," said Bateman, "I will appeal to the Church of Rome too. Rome is part of the Catholic Church as well as we: since, then, the Romish Church has ever kept up fastings the ordinance is not abolished; the 'greater part' of the Catholic Church has always observed it." "But it has not," said Campbell; "it now dispenses with fasts, as you have heard." Willis interposed to ask a question. "Do you mean then," he said to Bateman, "that the Church of England and the Church of Rome make one Church?" "Most certainly," answered Bateman. "Is it possible?" said Willis; "in what sense of the word _one_?" "In every sense," answered Bateman, "but that of intercommunion." "That is, I suppose," said Willis, "they are one, except that they have no intercourse with each other." Bateman assented. Willis continued: "No intercourse; that is, no social dealings, no consulting or arranging, no ordering and obeying, no mutual support; in short, no visible union." Bateman still assented. "Well, that is my difficulty," said Willis; "I can't understand how two parts can make up one visible body if they are not visibly united; unity implies _union_." "I don't see that at all," said Bateman; "I don't see that at all. No, Willis, you must not expect I shall give that up to you; it is one of our points. There is only one visible Church, and therefore the English and Romish Churches are both parts of it." Campbell saw clearly that Bateman had got into a difficulty, and he came to the rescue in his own way. "We must distinguish," he said, "the state of the case more exactly. A kingdom may be divided, it may be distracted by parties, by dissensions, yet be still a kingdom. That, I conceive, is the real condition of the Church; in this way the Churches of England, Rome, and Greece are one." "I suppose you will grant," said Willis, "that in proportion as a rebellion is strong, so is the unity of the kingdom threatened; and if a rebellion is successful, or if the parties in a civil war manage to divide the power and territory between them, then forthwith, instead of one kingdom, we have two. Ten or fifteen years since, Belgium was part of the kingdom of the Netherlands: I suppose you would not call it part of that kingdom now? This seems the case of the Churches of Rome and England." "Still, a kingdom may be in a state of decay," replied Campbell; "consider the case of the Turkish Empire at this moment. The Union between its separate portions is so languid, that each separate Pasha may almost be termed a separate sovereign; still it is one kingdom." "The Church, then, at present," said Willis, "is a kingdom tending to dissolution?" "Certainly it is," answered Campbell. "And will ultimately fail?" asked Willis. "Certainly," said Campbell; "when the end comes, according to our Lord's saying, 'When the Son of man cometh, shall He find faith on the earth?' just as in the case of the chosen people, the sceptre failed from Judah when the Shiloh came." "Surely the Church has failed already _before_ the end," said Willis, "according to the view you take of failing. How _can_ any separation be more complete than exists at present between Rome, Greece, and England?" "They might excommunicate each other," said Campbell. "Then you are willing," said Willis, "to assign beforehand something definite, the occurrence of which will constitute a real separation." "Don't do so," said Reding to Campbell; "it is dangerous; don't commit yourself in a moral question; for then, if the thing specified did occur, it would be difficult to see our way." "No," said Willis; "you certainly _would_ be in a difficulty; but you would find your way out, I know. In that case you would choose some other _ultimatum_ as your test of schism. There would be," he added, speaking with some emotion, "'in the lowest depth a lower still.'" The concluding words were out of keeping with the tone of the conversation hitherto, and fairly excited Bateman, who, for some time, had been an impatient listener. "That's a dangerous line, Campbell," he said, "it is indeed; I can't go along with you. It will never do to say that the Church is failing; no, it never fails. It is always strong, and pure, and perfect, as the Prophets describe it. Look at its cathedrals, abbey-churches, and other sanctuaries, these fitly typify it." "My dear Bateman," answered Campbell, "I am as willing as you to maintain the fulfilment of the prophecies made to the Church, but we must allow the _fact_ that the branches of the Church are _divided_, while we maintain the _doctrine_, that the Church should be one." "I don't see that at all," answered Bateman; "no, we need not allow it. There's no such thing as Churches, there's but one Church everywhere, and it is _not_ divided. It is merely the outward forms, appearances, manifestations of the Church that are divided. The Church is one as much as ever it was." "That will never do," said Campbell; and he stood up before the fire in

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Both existed before Christianity; both are of Pagan origin; both were afterwards consecrated to the service of the Church." "Pardon me," interrupted Bateman, "Gregorians were Jewish, not Pagan." "Be it so, for argument sake," said Campbell; "still, at least, they were not of Christian origin. Next, both the old music and the old architecture were inartificial and limited, as methods of exhibiting their respective arts. You can't have a large Grecian temple, you can't have a long Gregorian _Gloria_." "Not a long one!" said Bateman; "why there's poor Willis used to complain how tedious the old Gregorian compositions were abroad." "I don't explain myself," answered Campbell; "of course you may produce them to any length, but merely by addition, not by carrying on the melody. You can put two together, and then have one twice as long as either. But I speak of a musical piece, which must of course be the natural development of certain ideas, with one part depending on another. In like manner, you might make an Ionic temple twice as long or twice as wide as the Parthenon; but you would lose the beauty of proportion by doing so. This, then, is what I meant to say of the primitive architecture and the primitive music, that they soon come to their limit; they soon are exhausted, and can do nothing more. If you attempt more, it's like taxing a musical instrument beyond its powers." "You but try, Bateman," said Reding, "to make a bass play quadrilles, and you will see what is meant by taxing an instrument." "Well, I have heard Lindley play all sorts of quick tunes on his bass," said Bateman, "and most wonderful it is." "Wonderful is the right word," answered Reding; "it is very wonderful. You say, 'How _can_ he manage it?' and 'It's very wonderful for a bass;' but it is not pleasant in itself. In like manner, I have always felt a disgust when Mr. So-and-so comes forward to make his sweet flute bleat and bray like a hautbois; it's forcing the poor thing to do what it was never made for." "This is literally true as regards Gregorian music," said Campbell; "instruments did not exist in primitive times which could execute any other. But I am speaking under correction; Mr. Reding seems to know more about the subject than I do." "I have always understood, as you say," answered Charles, "modern music did not come into existence till after the powers of the violin became known. Corelli himself, who wrote not two hundred years ago, hardly ventures on the shift. The piano, again, I have heard, has almost given birth to Beethoven." "Modern music, then, could not be in ancient times, for want of modern instruments," said Campbell; "and, in like manner, Gothic architecture could not exist until vaulting was brought to perfection. Great mechanical inventions have taken place, both in architecture and in music, since the age of basilicas and Gregorians; and each science has gained by it." "It is curious enough," said Reding, "one thing I have been accustomed to say, quite falls in with this view of yours. When people who are not musicians have accused Handel and Beethoven of not being _simple_, I have always said, 'Is Gothic architecture _simple_?' A cathedral expresses one idea, but it is indefinitely varied and elaborated in its parts; so is a symphony or quartett of Beethoven." "Certainly, Bateman, you must tolerate Pagan architecture, or you must in consistency exclude Pagan or Jewish Gregorians," said Campbell; "you must tolerate figured music, or reprobate tracery windows." "And which are you for," asked Bateman, "Gothic with Handel, or Roman with Gregorians?" "For both in their place," answered Campbell. "I exceedingly prefer Gothic architecture to classical. I think it the one true child and development of Christianity; but I won't, for that reason, discard the Pagan style which has been sanctified by eighteen centuries, by the exclusive love of many Christian countries, and by the sanction of a host of saints. I am for toleration. Give Gothic an ascendancy; be respectful towards classical." The conversation slackened. "Much as I like modern music," said Charles, "I can't quite go the length to which your doctrine would lead me. I cannot, indeed, help liking Mozart; but surely his music is not religious." "I have not been speaking in defence of particular composers," said Campbell; "figured music may be right, yet Mozart or Beethoven inadmissible. In like manner, you don't suppose, because I tolerate Roman architecture, that therefore I like naked cupids to stand for cherubs, and sprawling women for the cardinal virtues." He paused. "Besides," he added, "as you were saying yourself just now, we must consult the genius of our country and the religious associations of our people." "Well," said Bateman, "I think the perfection of sacred music is Gregorian set to harmonies; there you have the glorious old chants, and just a little modern richness." "And I think it just the worst of all," answered Campbell; "it is a mixture of two things, each good in itself, and incongruous together. It's a mixture of the first and second courses at table. It's like the architecture of the fa ade at Milan, half Gothic, half Grecian." "It's what is always used, I believe," said Charles. "Oh yes, we must not go against the age," said Campbell; "it would be absurd to do so. I only spoke of what was right and wrong on abstract principles; and, to tell the truth, I can't help liking the mixture myself, though I can't defend it." Bateman rang for tea; his friends wished to return home soon; it was the month of January, and no season for after-dinner strolls. "Well," he said, "Campbell, you are more lenient to the age than to me; you yield to the age when it sets a figured bass to a Gregorian tone; but you laugh at me for setting a coat upon a cassock." "It's no honour to be the author of a mongrel type," said Campbell. "A mongrel type?" said Bateman; "rather it is a transition state." "What are you passing to?" asked Charles. "Talking of transitions," said Campbell abruptly, "do you know that your man Willis--I don't know his college, he turned Romanist--is living in my parish, and I have hopes he is making a transition back again." "Have you seen him?" said Charles. "No; I have called, but was unfortunate; he was out. He still goes to mass, I find." "Why, where does he find a chapel?" asked Bateman. "At Seaton. A good seven miles from you," said Charles. "Yes," answered Campbell; "and he walks to and fro every Sunday." "That is not like a transition, except a physical one," observed Reding. "A person must go somewhere," answered Campbell; "I suppose he went to church up to the week he joined the Romanists." "Very awful, these defections," said Bateman; "but very satisfactory, a melancholy satisfaction," with a look at Charles, "that the victims of delusions should be at length recovered." "Yes," said Campbell; "very sad indeed. I am afraid we must expect a number more." "Well, I don't know how to think it," said Charles; "the hold our Church has on the mind is so powerful; it is such a wrench to leave it, I cannot fancy any party-tie standing against it. Humanly speaking, there is far, far more to keep them fast than to carry them away." "Yes, if they moved as a party," said Campbell; "but that is not the case. They don't move simply because others move, but, poor fellows, because they can't help it.--Bateman, will you let my chaise be brought round?--How _can_ they help it?" continued he, standing up over the fire; "their Catholic principles lead them on, and there's nothing to drive them back." "Why should not their love for their own Church?" asked Bateman; "it is deplorable, unpardonable." "They will keep going one after another, as they ripen," said Campbell. "Did you hear the report--I did not think much of it myself," said Reding,--"that Smith was moving?" "Not impossible," answered Campbell thoughtfully. "Impossible, quite impossible," cried Bateman; "such a triumph to the enemy; I'll not believe it till I see it." "_Not_ impossible," repeated Campbell, as he buttoned and fitted his great-coat about him; "he has shifted his ground." His carriage was announced. "Mr. Reding, I believe I can take you part of your way, if you will accept of a seat in my pony-chaise." Charles accepted the offer; and Bateman was soon deserted by his two guests. CHAPTER XVII. Campbell put Charles down about half-way between Melford and his home. It was bright moonlight; and, after thanking his new friend for the lift, he bounded over the stile at the side of the road, and was at once buried in the shade of the copse along which his path lay. Soon he came in sight of a tall wooden Cross, which, in better days, had been a religious emblem, but had served in latter times to mark the boundary between two contiguous parishes. The moon was behind him, and the sacred symbol rose awfully in the pale sky, overhanging a pool, which was still venerated in the neighbourhood for its reported miraculous virtue. Charles, to his surprise, saw distinctly a man kneeling on the little mound out of which the Cross grew; nay, heard him, for his shoulders were bare, and he was using the discipline upon them, while he repeated what appeared to be some form of devotion. Charles stopped, unwilling to interrupt, yet not knowing how to pass; but the stranger had caught the sound of feet, and in a few seconds vanished from his view. He was overcome with a sudden emotion, which he could not control. "O happy times," he cried, "when faith was one! O blessed penitent, whoever you are, who know what to believe, and how to gain pardon, and can begin where others end! Here am I, in my twenty-third year, uncertain about everything, because I have nothing to trust." He drew near to the Cross, took off his hat, knelt down and kissed the wood, and prayed awhile that whatever might be the consequences, whatever the trial, whatever the loss, he might have grace to follow whithersoever God should call him. He then rose and turned to the cold well; he took some water in his palm and drank it. He felt as if he could have prayed to the Saint who owned that pool--St. Thomas the Martyr, he believed--to plead for him, and to aid him in his search after the true faith; but something whispered, "It is wrong;" and he checked the wish. So, regaining his hat, he passed away, and pursued his homeward path at a brisk pace. The family had retired for the night, and he went up without delay to his bedroom. Passing through his study, he found a letter lying on his table, without post-mark, which had come for him in his absence. He broke the seal; it was an anonymous paper, and began as follows:-- "_Questions for one whom it concerns._ 1. What is meant by the One Church of which the Creed speaks?" "This is too much for to-night," thought Charles, "it is late already;" and he folded it up again and threw it on his dressing-table. "Some well-meaning person, I dare say, who thinks he knows me." He wound up his watch, gave a yawn, and put on his slippers. "Who can there be in this neighbourhood to write it?" He opened it again. "It's certainly a Catholic's writing," he said. His mind glanced to the person whom he had seen under the Cross; perhaps it glanced further. He sat down and began reading _in extenso:_-- "_Questions for one whom it concerns._ 1. What is meant by the One Church of which the Creed speaks? 2. Is it a generalization or a thing? 3. Does it belong to past history or to the present time? 4. Does not Scripture speak of it as a kingdom? 5. And a kingdom which was to last to the end? 6. What is a kingdom? and what is meant when Scripture calls the Church a kingdom? 7. Is it a visible kingdom, or an invisible? 8. Can a kingdom have two governments, and these acting in contrary directions? 9. Is identity of institutions, opinions, or race, sufficient to make two nations one kingdom? 10. Is the Episcopal form, the hierarchy, or the Apostles' Creed, sufficient to make the Churches of Rome and of England one? 11. Where there are parts, does not unity require union, and a visible unity require a visible union? 12. How can two religions be the same which have utterly distinct worships and ideas of worship? 13. Can two religions be one, if the most sacred and peculiar act of worship in the one is called 'a blasphemous fable and dangerous deceit' in the other? 14. Has not the One Church of Christ one faith? 15. Can a Church be Christ's which has not one faith? 16. Which is contradictory to itself in its documents? 17. And in different centuries? 18. And in its documents contrasted with its divines? 19. And in its divines and members one with another? 20. What is _the_ faith of the English Church? 21. How many Councils does the English Church admit? 22. Does the English Church consider the present Nestorian and Jacobite Churches under an anathema, or part of the visible Church? 23. Is it necessary, or possible, to believe any one but a professed messenger from God? 24. Is the English Church, does she claim to be, a messenger from God? 25. Does she impart the truth, or bid us seek it? 26. If she leaves us to seek it, do members of the English Church seek it with that earnestness which Scripture enjoins? 27. Is a person safe who lives without faith, even though he seems to have hope and charity?" Charles got very sleepy before he reached the "twenty-seventhly." "It won't do," he said; "I am only losing my time. They seem well put; but they must stand over." He put the paper from him, said his prayers, and was soon fast asleep. Next morning, on waking, the subject of the letter came into his mind, and he lay for some time thinking over it. "Certainly," he said, "I do wish very much to be settled either in the English Church or somewhere else. I wish I knew _what_ Christianity was; I am ready to be at pains to seek it, and would accept it eagerly and thankfully, if found. But it's a work of time; all the paper-arguments in the world are unequal to giving one a view in a moment. There must be a process; they may shorten it, as medicine shortens physical processes, but they can't supersede its necessity. I recollect how all my religious doubts and theories went to flight on my dear father's death. They weren't part of me, and could not sustain rough weather. Conviction is the eyesight of the mind, not a conclusion from premises; God works it, and His works are slow. At least so it is with me. I can't believe on a sudden; if I attempt it, I shall be using words for things, and be sure to repent it. Or if not, I shall go right merely by hazard. I must move in what seems God's way; I can but put myself on the road; a higher power must overtake me, and carry me forward. At present I have a direct duty upon me, which my dear father left me, to take a good class. This is the path of duty. I won't put off the inquiry, but I'll let it proceed in that path. God can bless my reading to my spiritual illumination, as well as anything else. Saul sought his father's asses, and found a kingdom. All in good time. When I have taken my degree the subject will properly come on me." He sighed. "My degree! those odious Articles! rather, when I have passed my examination. Well, it's no good lying here;" and he jumped up, and signed himself with the Cross. His eye caught the letter. "It's well written--better than Willis could write; it's not Willis's. There's something about that Willis I don't understand. I wonder how he and his mother get on together. I don't think he _has_ any sisters." CHAPTER XVIII. Campbell had been much pleased with Reding, and his interest in him was not lessened by a hint from Bateman that his allegiance to the English Church was in danger. He called on him in no long time, asked him to dinner, and, when Charles had returned his invitation, and Campbell had accepted it, the beginning of an acquaintance was formed between the rectory at Sutton and the family at Boughton which grew into an intimacy as time went on. Campbell was a gentleman, a travelled man, of clear head and ardent mind, candid, well-read in English divinity, a devoted Anglican, and the incumbent of a living so well endowed as almost to be a dignity. Mary was pleased at the introduction, as bringing her brother under the influence of an intellect which he could not make light of; and, as Campbell had a carriage, it was natural that he should wish to save Charles the loss of a day's reading and the trouble of a muddy walk to the rectory and back by coming over himself to Boughton. Accordingly it so happened that he saw Charles twice at his mother's for once that he saw him at Sutton. But whatever came of these visits, nothing occurred which particularly bears upon the line of our narrative; so let them pass. One day Charles called upon Bateman, and, on entering the room, was surprised to see him and Campbell at luncheon, and in conversation with a third person. There was a moment's surprise and hesitation on seeing him before they rose and welcomed him as usual. When he looked at the stranger he felt a slight awkwardness himself, which he could not control. It was Willis; and apparently submitted to the process of reconversion. Charles was evidently _de trop_, but there was no help for it; so he shook hands with Willis, and accepted the pressing call of Bateman to seat himself at table, and to share their bread and cheese. Charles sat down opposite Willis, and for a while could not keep his eyes from him. At first he had some difficulty in believing he had before him the impetuous youth he had known two years and a half before. He had always been silent in general company; but in that he was changed, as in everything else. Not that he talked more than was natural, but he talked freely and easily. The great change, however, was in his appearance and manner. He had lost his bloom and youthfulness; his expression was sweeter indeed than before, and very placid, but there was a thin line down his face on each side of his mouth; his cheeks were wanting in fulness, and he had the air of a man of thirty. When he entered into conversation, and became animated, his former self returned. "I suppose we may all admire this cream at this season," said Charles, as he helped himself, "for we are none of us Devonshire men." "It's not peculiar to Devonshire," answered Campbell; "that is, they have it abroad. At Rome there is a sort of cream or cheese very like it, and very common." "Will butter and cream keep in so warm a climate?" asked Charles; "I fancied oil was the substitute." "Rome is not so warm as you fancy," said Willis, "except during the summer." "Oil? so it is," said Campbell; "thus we read in Scripture of the multiplication of the oil and meal, which seems to answer to bread and butter. The oil in Rome is excellent, so clear and pale; you can eat it as milk." "The taste, I suppose, is peculiar," observed Charles. "Just at first," answered Campbell; "but one soon gets used to it. All such substances, milk, butter, cheese, oil, have a particular taste at first, which use alone gets over. The rich Guernsey butter is too much for strangers, while Russians relish whale-oil. Most of our tastes are in a measure artificial." "It is certainly so with vegetables," said Willis; "when I was a boy I could not eat beans, spinach, asparagus, parsnips, and I think some others." "Therefore your hermit's fare is not only the most natural, but the only naturally palatable, I suppose,--a crust of bread and a draught from the stream," replied Campbell. "Or the Clerk of Copmanhurst's dry peas," said Charles. "The macaroni and grapes of the Neapolitans are as natural and more palatable," said Willis. "Rather they are a luxury," said Bateman. "No," answered Campbell, "not a luxury; a luxury is in its very idea a something _recherch _. Thus Horace speaks of the '_peregrina lagois_.' What nature yields _sponte su _ around you, however delicious, is no luxury. Wild ducks are no luxury in your old neighbourhood, amid your Oxford fens, Bateman; nor grapes at Naples." "Then the old women here are luxurious over their sixpenn'rth of tea," said Bateman; "for it comes from China." Campbell was posed for an instant. Somehow neither he nor Bateman were quite at their ease, whether with themselves or with each other; it might be Charles's sudden intrusion, or something which had happened before it. Campbell answered at length that steamers and railroads were making strange changes; that time and place were vanishing, and price would soon be the only measure of luxury. "This seems the measure also of _grasso_ and _magro_ food in Italy," said Willis; "for I think there are dispensations for butcher's meat in Lent, in consequence of the dearness of bread and oil." "This seems to show that the age for abstinences and fastings is past," observed Campbell; "for it's absurd to keep Lent on beef and mutton." "Oh, Campbell, what are you saying?" cried Bateman; "past! are we bound by their lax ways in Italy?" "I do certainly think," answered Campbell, "that fasting is unsuitable to this age, in England as well as in Rome." "Take care, my fine fellows," thought Charles; "keep your ranks, or you won't secure your prisoner." "What, not fast on Friday!" cried Bateman; "we always did so most rigidly at Oxford." "It does you credit," answered Campbell; "but I am of Cambridge." "But what do you say to Rubrics and the Calendar?" insisted Bateman. "They are not binding," answered Campbell. "They _are_, binding," said Bateman. A pause, as between the rounds of a boxing-match. Reding interposed: "Bateman, cut me, please, a bit of your capital bread--home-made, I suppose?" "A thousand pardons!" said Bateman:--"not binding?--Pass it to him, Willis, if you please. Yes, it comes from a farmer, next door. I'm glad you like it.--I repeat, they _are_ binding, Campbell." "An odd sort of binding, when they have never bound," answered Campbell; "they have existed two or three hundred years; when were they ever put in force?" "But there they are," said Bateman, "in the Prayer Book." "Yes, and there let them lie and never get out of it," retorted Campbell; "there they will stay till the end of the story." "Oh, for shame!" cried Bateman; "you should aid your mother in a difficulty, and not be like the priest and the Levite." "My mother does not wish to be aided," continued Campbell. "Oh, how you talk! What shall I do? What can be done?" cried poor Bateman. "Done! nothing," said Campbell; "is there no such thing as the desuetude of a law? Does not a law cease to be binding when it is not enforced? I appeal to Mr. Willis." Willis, thus addressed, answered that he was no moral theologian, but he had attended some schools, and he believed it was the Catholic rule that when a law had been promulgated, and was not observed by the majority, if the legislator knew the state of the case, and yet kept silence, he was considered _ipso facto_ to revoke it. "What!" said Bateman to Campbell, "do you appeal to the Romish Church?" "No," answered Campbell; "I appeal to the whole Catholic Church, of which the Church of Rome happens in this particular case to be the exponent. It is plain common sense, that, if a law is not enforced, at length it ceases to be binding. Else it would be quite a tyranny; we should not know where we were. The Church of Rome does but give expression to this common-sense view." "Well, then," said Bateman, "I will appeal to the Church of Rome too. Rome is part of the Catholic Church as well as we: since, then, the Romish Church has ever kept up fastings the ordinance is not abolished; the 'greater part' of the Catholic Church has always observed it." "But it has not," said Campbell; "it now dispenses with fasts, as you have heard." Willis interposed to ask a question. "Do you mean then," he said to Bateman, "that the Church of England and the Church of Rome make one Church?" "Most certainly," answered Bateman. "Is it possible?" said Willis; "in what sense of the word _one_?" "In every sense," answered Bateman, "but that of intercommunion." "That is, I suppose," said Willis, "they are one, except that they have no intercourse with each other." Bateman assented. Willis continued: "No intercourse; that is, no social dealings, no consulting or arranging, no ordering and obeying, no mutual support; in short, no visible union." Bateman still assented. "Well, that is my difficulty," said Willis; "I can't understand how two parts can make up one visible body if they are not visibly united; unity implies _union_." "I don't see that at all," said Bateman; "I don't see that at all. No, Willis, you must not expect I shall give that up to you; it is one of our points. There is only one visible Church, and therefore the English and Romish Churches are both parts of it." Campbell saw clearly that Bateman had got into a difficulty, and he came to the rescue in his own way. "We must distinguish," he said, "the state of the case more exactly. A kingdom may be divided, it may be distracted by parties, by dissensions, yet be still a kingdom. That, I conceive, is the real condition of the Church; in this way the Churches of England, Rome, and Greece are one." "I suppose you will grant," said Willis, "that in proportion as a rebellion is strong, so is the unity of the kingdom threatened; and if a rebellion is successful, or if the parties in a civil war manage to divide the power and territory between them, then forthwith, instead of one kingdom, we have two. Ten or fifteen years since, Belgium was part of the kingdom of the Netherlands: I suppose you would not call it part of that kingdom now? This seems the case of the Churches of Rome and England." "Still, a kingdom may be in a state of decay," replied Campbell; "consider the case of the Turkish Empire at this moment. The Union between its separate portions is so languid, that each separate Pasha may almost be termed a separate sovereign; still it is one kingdom." "The Church, then, at present," said Willis, "is a kingdom tending to dissolution?" "Certainly it is," answered Campbell. "And will ultimately fail?" asked Willis. "Certainly," said Campbell; "when the end comes, according to our Lord's saying, 'When the Son of man cometh, shall He find faith on the earth?' just as in the case of the chosen people, the sceptre failed from Judah when the Shiloh came." "Surely the Church has failed already _before_ the end," said Willis, "according to the view you take of failing. How _can_ any separation be more complete than exists at present between Rome, Greece, and England?" "They might excommunicate each other," said Campbell. "Then you are willing," said Willis, "to assign beforehand something definite, the occurrence of which will constitute a real separation." "Don't do so," said Reding to Campbell; "it is dangerous; don't commit yourself in a moral question; for then, if the thing specified did occur, it would be difficult to see our way." "No," said Willis; "you certainly _would_ be in a difficulty; but you would find your way out, I know. In that case you would choose some other _ultimatum_ as your test of schism. There would be," he added, speaking with some emotion, "'in the lowest depth a lower still.'" The concluding words were out of keeping with the tone of the conversation hitherto, and fairly excited Bateman, who, for some time, had been an impatient listener. "That's a dangerous line, Campbell," he said, "it is indeed; I can't go along with you. It will never do to say that the Church is failing; no, it never fails. It is always strong, and pure, and perfect, as the Prophets describe it. Look at its cathedrals, abbey-churches, and other sanctuaries, these fitly typify it." "My dear Bateman," answered Campbell, "I am as willing as you to maintain the fulfilment of the prophecies made to the Church, but we must allow the _fact_ that the branches of the Church are _divided_, while we maintain the _doctrine_, that the Church should be one." "I don't see that at all," answered Bateman; "no, we need not allow it. There's no such thing as Churches, there's but one Church everywhere, and it is _not_ divided. It is merely the outward forms, appearances, manifestations of the Church that are divided. The Church is one as much as ever it was." "That will never do," said Campbell; and he stood up before the fire in

mound

How many times the word 'mound' appears in the text?

Both existed before Christianity; both are of Pagan origin; both were afterwards consecrated to the service of the Church." "Pardon me," interrupted Bateman, "Gregorians were Jewish, not Pagan." "Be it so, for argument sake," said Campbell; "still, at least, they were not of Christian origin. Next, both the old music and the old architecture were inartificial and limited, as methods of exhibiting their respective arts. You can't have a large Grecian temple, you can't have a long Gregorian _Gloria_." "Not a long one!" said Bateman; "why there's poor Willis used to complain how tedious the old Gregorian compositions were abroad." "I don't explain myself," answered Campbell; "of course you may produce them to any length, but merely by addition, not by carrying on the melody. You can put two together, and then have one twice as long as either. But I speak of a musical piece, which must of course be the natural development of certain ideas, with one part depending on another. In like manner, you might make an Ionic temple twice as long or twice as wide as the Parthenon; but you would lose the beauty of proportion by doing so. This, then, is what I meant to say of the primitive architecture and the primitive music, that they soon come to their limit; they soon are exhausted, and can do nothing more. If you attempt more, it's like taxing a musical instrument beyond its powers." "You but try, Bateman," said Reding, "to make a bass play quadrilles, and you will see what is meant by taxing an instrument." "Well, I have heard Lindley play all sorts of quick tunes on his bass," said Bateman, "and most wonderful it is." "Wonderful is the right word," answered Reding; "it is very wonderful. You say, 'How _can_ he manage it?' and 'It's very wonderful for a bass;' but it is not pleasant in itself. In like manner, I have always felt a disgust when Mr. So-and-so comes forward to make his sweet flute bleat and bray like a hautbois; it's forcing the poor thing to do what it was never made for." "This is literally true as regards Gregorian music," said Campbell; "instruments did not exist in primitive times which could execute any other. But I am speaking under correction; Mr. Reding seems to know more about the subject than I do." "I have always understood, as you say," answered Charles, "modern music did not come into existence till after the powers of the violin became known. Corelli himself, who wrote not two hundred years ago, hardly ventures on the shift. The piano, again, I have heard, has almost given birth to Beethoven." "Modern music, then, could not be in ancient times, for want of modern instruments," said Campbell; "and, in like manner, Gothic architecture could not exist until vaulting was brought to perfection. Great mechanical inventions have taken place, both in architecture and in music, since the age of basilicas and Gregorians; and each science has gained by it." "It is curious enough," said Reding, "one thing I have been accustomed to say, quite falls in with this view of yours. When people who are not musicians have accused Handel and Beethoven of not being _simple_, I have always said, 'Is Gothic architecture _simple_?' A cathedral expresses one idea, but it is indefinitely varied and elaborated in its parts; so is a symphony or quartett of Beethoven." "Certainly, Bateman, you must tolerate Pagan architecture, or you must in consistency exclude Pagan or Jewish Gregorians," said Campbell; "you must tolerate figured music, or reprobate tracery windows." "And which are you for," asked Bateman, "Gothic with Handel, or Roman with Gregorians?" "For both in their place," answered Campbell. "I exceedingly prefer Gothic architecture to classical. I think it the one true child and development of Christianity; but I won't, for that reason, discard the Pagan style which has been sanctified by eighteen centuries, by the exclusive love of many Christian countries, and by the sanction of a host of saints. I am for toleration. Give Gothic an ascendancy; be respectful towards classical." The conversation slackened. "Much as I like modern music," said Charles, "I can't quite go the length to which your doctrine would lead me. I cannot, indeed, help liking Mozart; but surely his music is not religious." "I have not been speaking in defence of particular composers," said Campbell; "figured music may be right, yet Mozart or Beethoven inadmissible. In like manner, you don't suppose, because I tolerate Roman architecture, that therefore I like naked cupids to stand for cherubs, and sprawling women for the cardinal virtues." He paused. "Besides," he added, "as you were saying yourself just now, we must consult the genius of our country and the religious associations of our people." "Well," said Bateman, "I think the perfection of sacred music is Gregorian set to harmonies; there you have the glorious old chants, and just a little modern richness." "And I think it just the worst of all," answered Campbell; "it is a mixture of two things, each good in itself, and incongruous together. It's a mixture of the first and second courses at table. It's like the architecture of the fa ade at Milan, half Gothic, half Grecian." "It's what is always used, I believe," said Charles. "Oh yes, we must not go against the age," said Campbell; "it would be absurd to do so. I only spoke of what was right and wrong on abstract principles; and, to tell the truth, I can't help liking the mixture myself, though I can't defend it." Bateman rang for tea; his friends wished to return home soon; it was the month of January, and no season for after-dinner strolls. "Well," he said, "Campbell, you are more lenient to the age than to me; you yield to the age when it sets a figured bass to a Gregorian tone; but you laugh at me for setting a coat upon a cassock." "It's no honour to be the author of a mongrel type," said Campbell. "A mongrel type?" said Bateman; "rather it is a transition state." "What are you passing to?" asked Charles. "Talking of transitions," said Campbell abruptly, "do you know that your man Willis--I don't know his college, he turned Romanist--is living in my parish, and I have hopes he is making a transition back again." "Have you seen him?" said Charles. "No; I have called, but was unfortunate; he was out. He still goes to mass, I find." "Why, where does he find a chapel?" asked Bateman. "At Seaton. A good seven miles from you," said Charles. "Yes," answered Campbell; "and he walks to and fro every Sunday." "That is not like a transition, except a physical one," observed Reding. "A person must go somewhere," answered Campbell; "I suppose he went to church up to the week he joined the Romanists." "Very awful, these defections," said Bateman; "but very satisfactory, a melancholy satisfaction," with a look at Charles, "that the victims of delusions should be at length recovered." "Yes," said Campbell; "very sad indeed. I am afraid we must expect a number more." "Well, I don't know how to think it," said Charles; "the hold our Church has on the mind is so powerful; it is such a wrench to leave it, I cannot fancy any party-tie standing against it. Humanly speaking, there is far, far more to keep them fast than to carry them away." "Yes, if they moved as a party," said Campbell; "but that is not the case. They don't move simply because others move, but, poor fellows, because they can't help it.--Bateman, will you let my chaise be brought round?--How _can_ they help it?" continued he, standing up over the fire; "their Catholic principles lead them on, and there's nothing to drive them back." "Why should not their love for their own Church?" asked Bateman; "it is deplorable, unpardonable." "They will keep going one after another, as they ripen," said Campbell. "Did you hear the report--I did not think much of it myself," said Reding,--"that Smith was moving?" "Not impossible," answered Campbell thoughtfully. "Impossible, quite impossible," cried Bateman; "such a triumph to the enemy; I'll not believe it till I see it." "_Not_ impossible," repeated Campbell, as he buttoned and fitted his great-coat about him; "he has shifted his ground." His carriage was announced. "Mr. Reding, I believe I can take you part of your way, if you will accept of a seat in my pony-chaise." Charles accepted the offer; and Bateman was soon deserted by his two guests. CHAPTER XVII. Campbell put Charles down about half-way between Melford and his home. It was bright moonlight; and, after thanking his new friend for the lift, he bounded over the stile at the side of the road, and was at once buried in the shade of the copse along which his path lay. Soon he came in sight of a tall wooden Cross, which, in better days, had been a religious emblem, but had served in latter times to mark the boundary between two contiguous parishes. The moon was behind him, and the sacred symbol rose awfully in the pale sky, overhanging a pool, which was still venerated in the neighbourhood for its reported miraculous virtue. Charles, to his surprise, saw distinctly a man kneeling on the little mound out of which the Cross grew; nay, heard him, for his shoulders were bare, and he was using the discipline upon them, while he repeated what appeared to be some form of devotion. Charles stopped, unwilling to interrupt, yet not knowing how to pass; but the stranger had caught the sound of feet, and in a few seconds vanished from his view. He was overcome with a sudden emotion, which he could not control. "O happy times," he cried, "when faith was one! O blessed penitent, whoever you are, who know what to believe, and how to gain pardon, and can begin where others end! Here am I, in my twenty-third year, uncertain about everything, because I have nothing to trust." He drew near to the Cross, took off his hat, knelt down and kissed the wood, and prayed awhile that whatever might be the consequences, whatever the trial, whatever the loss, he might have grace to follow whithersoever God should call him. He then rose and turned to the cold well; he took some water in his palm and drank it. He felt as if he could have prayed to the Saint who owned that pool--St. Thomas the Martyr, he believed--to plead for him, and to aid him in his search after the true faith; but something whispered, "It is wrong;" and he checked the wish. So, regaining his hat, he passed away, and pursued his homeward path at a brisk pace. The family had retired for the night, and he went up without delay to his bedroom. Passing through his study, he found a letter lying on his table, without post-mark, which had come for him in his absence. He broke the seal; it was an anonymous paper, and began as follows:-- "_Questions for one whom it concerns._ 1. What is meant by the One Church of which the Creed speaks?" "This is too much for to-night," thought Charles, "it is late already;" and he folded it up again and threw it on his dressing-table. "Some well-meaning person, I dare say, who thinks he knows me." He wound up his watch, gave a yawn, and put on his slippers. "Who can there be in this neighbourhood to write it?" He opened it again. "It's certainly a Catholic's writing," he said. His mind glanced to the person whom he had seen under the Cross; perhaps it glanced further. He sat down and began reading _in extenso:_-- "_Questions for one whom it concerns._ 1. What is meant by the One Church of which the Creed speaks? 2. Is it a generalization or a thing? 3. Does it belong to past history or to the present time? 4. Does not Scripture speak of it as a kingdom? 5. And a kingdom which was to last to the end? 6. What is a kingdom? and what is meant when Scripture calls the Church a kingdom? 7. Is it a visible kingdom, or an invisible? 8. Can a kingdom have two governments, and these acting in contrary directions? 9. Is identity of institutions, opinions, or race, sufficient to make two nations one kingdom? 10. Is the Episcopal form, the hierarchy, or the Apostles' Creed, sufficient to make the Churches of Rome and of England one? 11. Where there are parts, does not unity require union, and a visible unity require a visible union? 12. How can two religions be the same which have utterly distinct worships and ideas of worship? 13. Can two religions be one, if the most sacred and peculiar act of worship in the one is called 'a blasphemous fable and dangerous deceit' in the other? 14. Has not the One Church of Christ one faith? 15. Can a Church be Christ's which has not one faith? 16. Which is contradictory to itself in its documents? 17. And in different centuries? 18. And in its documents contrasted with its divines? 19. And in its divines and members one with another? 20. What is _the_ faith of the English Church? 21. How many Councils does the English Church admit? 22. Does the English Church consider the present Nestorian and Jacobite Churches under an anathema, or part of the visible Church? 23. Is it necessary, or possible, to believe any one but a professed messenger from God? 24. Is the English Church, does she claim to be, a messenger from God? 25. Does she impart the truth, or bid us seek it? 26. If she leaves us to seek it, do members of the English Church seek it with that earnestness which Scripture enjoins? 27. Is a person safe who lives without faith, even though he seems to have hope and charity?" Charles got very sleepy before he reached the "twenty-seventhly." "It won't do," he said; "I am only losing my time. They seem well put; but they must stand over." He put the paper from him, said his prayers, and was soon fast asleep. Next morning, on waking, the subject of the letter came into his mind, and he lay for some time thinking over it. "Certainly," he said, "I do wish very much to be settled either in the English Church or somewhere else. I wish I knew _what_ Christianity was; I am ready to be at pains to seek it, and would accept it eagerly and thankfully, if found. But it's a work of time; all the paper-arguments in the world are unequal to giving one a view in a moment. There must be a process; they may shorten it, as medicine shortens physical processes, but they can't supersede its necessity. I recollect how all my religious doubts and theories went to flight on my dear father's death. They weren't part of me, and could not sustain rough weather. Conviction is the eyesight of the mind, not a conclusion from premises; God works it, and His works are slow. At least so it is with me. I can't believe on a sudden; if I attempt it, I shall be using words for things, and be sure to repent it. Or if not, I shall go right merely by hazard. I must move in what seems God's way; I can but put myself on the road; a higher power must overtake me, and carry me forward. At present I have a direct duty upon me, which my dear father left me, to take a good class. This is the path of duty. I won't put off the inquiry, but I'll let it proceed in that path. God can bless my reading to my spiritual illumination, as well as anything else. Saul sought his father's asses, and found a kingdom. All in good time. When I have taken my degree the subject will properly come on me." He sighed. "My degree! those odious Articles! rather, when I have passed my examination. Well, it's no good lying here;" and he jumped up, and signed himself with the Cross. His eye caught the letter. "It's well written--better than Willis could write; it's not Willis's. There's something about that Willis I don't understand. I wonder how he and his mother get on together. I don't think he _has_ any sisters." CHAPTER XVIII. Campbell had been much pleased with Reding, and his interest in him was not lessened by a hint from Bateman that his allegiance to the English Church was in danger. He called on him in no long time, asked him to dinner, and, when Charles had returned his invitation, and Campbell had accepted it, the beginning of an acquaintance was formed between the rectory at Sutton and the family at Boughton which grew into an intimacy as time went on. Campbell was a gentleman, a travelled man, of clear head and ardent mind, candid, well-read in English divinity, a devoted Anglican, and the incumbent of a living so well endowed as almost to be a dignity. Mary was pleased at the introduction, as bringing her brother under the influence of an intellect which he could not make light of; and, as Campbell had a carriage, it was natural that he should wish to save Charles the loss of a day's reading and the trouble of a muddy walk to the rectory and back by coming over himself to Boughton. Accordingly it so happened that he saw Charles twice at his mother's for once that he saw him at Sutton. But whatever came of these visits, nothing occurred which particularly bears upon the line of our narrative; so let them pass. One day Charles called upon Bateman, and, on entering the room, was surprised to see him and Campbell at luncheon, and in conversation with a third person. There was a moment's surprise and hesitation on seeing him before they rose and welcomed him as usual. When he looked at the stranger he felt a slight awkwardness himself, which he could not control. It was Willis; and apparently submitted to the process of reconversion. Charles was evidently _de trop_, but there was no help for it; so he shook hands with Willis, and accepted the pressing call of Bateman to seat himself at table, and to share their bread and cheese. Charles sat down opposite Willis, and for a while could not keep his eyes from him. At first he had some difficulty in believing he had before him the impetuous youth he had known two years and a half before. He had always been silent in general company; but in that he was changed, as in everything else. Not that he talked more than was natural, but he talked freely and easily. The great change, however, was in his appearance and manner. He had lost his bloom and youthfulness; his expression was sweeter indeed than before, and very placid, but there was a thin line down his face on each side of his mouth; his cheeks were wanting in fulness, and he had the air of a man of thirty. When he entered into conversation, and became animated, his former self returned. "I suppose we may all admire this cream at this season," said Charles, as he helped himself, "for we are none of us Devonshire men." "It's not peculiar to Devonshire," answered Campbell; "that is, they have it abroad. At Rome there is a sort of cream or cheese very like it, and very common." "Will butter and cream keep in so warm a climate?" asked Charles; "I fancied oil was the substitute." "Rome is not so warm as you fancy," said Willis, "except during the summer." "Oil? so it is," said Campbell; "thus we read in Scripture of the multiplication of the oil and meal, which seems to answer to bread and butter. The oil in Rome is excellent, so clear and pale; you can eat it as milk." "The taste, I suppose, is peculiar," observed Charles. "Just at first," answered Campbell; "but one soon gets used to it. All such substances, milk, butter, cheese, oil, have a particular taste at first, which use alone gets over. The rich Guernsey butter is too much for strangers, while Russians relish whale-oil. Most of our tastes are in a measure artificial." "It is certainly so with vegetables," said Willis; "when I was a boy I could not eat beans, spinach, asparagus, parsnips, and I think some others." "Therefore your hermit's fare is not only the most natural, but the only naturally palatable, I suppose,--a crust of bread and a draught from the stream," replied Campbell. "Or the Clerk of Copmanhurst's dry peas," said Charles. "The macaroni and grapes of the Neapolitans are as natural and more palatable," said Willis. "Rather they are a luxury," said Bateman. "No," answered Campbell, "not a luxury; a luxury is in its very idea a something _recherch _. Thus Horace speaks of the '_peregrina lagois_.' What nature yields _sponte su _ around you, however delicious, is no luxury. Wild ducks are no luxury in your old neighbourhood, amid your Oxford fens, Bateman; nor grapes at Naples." "Then the old women here are luxurious over their sixpenn'rth of tea," said Bateman; "for it comes from China." Campbell was posed for an instant. Somehow neither he nor Bateman were quite at their ease, whether with themselves or with each other; it might be Charles's sudden intrusion, or something which had happened before it. Campbell answered at length that steamers and railroads were making strange changes; that time and place were vanishing, and price would soon be the only measure of luxury. "This seems the measure also of _grasso_ and _magro_ food in Italy," said Willis; "for I think there are dispensations for butcher's meat in Lent, in consequence of the dearness of bread and oil." "This seems to show that the age for abstinences and fastings is past," observed Campbell; "for it's absurd to keep Lent on beef and mutton." "Oh, Campbell, what are you saying?" cried Bateman; "past! are we bound by their lax ways in Italy?" "I do certainly think," answered Campbell, "that fasting is unsuitable to this age, in England as well as in Rome." "Take care, my fine fellows," thought Charles; "keep your ranks, or you won't secure your prisoner." "What, not fast on Friday!" cried Bateman; "we always did so most rigidly at Oxford." "It does you credit," answered Campbell; "but I am of Cambridge." "But what do you say to Rubrics and the Calendar?" insisted Bateman. "They are not binding," answered Campbell. "They _are_, binding," said Bateman. A pause, as between the rounds of a boxing-match. Reding interposed: "Bateman, cut me, please, a bit of your capital bread--home-made, I suppose?" "A thousand pardons!" said Bateman:--"not binding?--Pass it to him, Willis, if you please. Yes, it comes from a farmer, next door. I'm glad you like it.--I repeat, they _are_ binding, Campbell." "An odd sort of binding, when they have never bound," answered Campbell; "they have existed two or three hundred years; when were they ever put in force?" "But there they are," said Bateman, "in the Prayer Book." "Yes, and there let them lie and never get out of it," retorted Campbell; "there they will stay till the end of the story." "Oh, for shame!" cried Bateman; "you should aid your mother in a difficulty, and not be like the priest and the Levite." "My mother does not wish to be aided," continued Campbell. "Oh, how you talk! What shall I do? What can be done?" cried poor Bateman. "Done! nothing," said Campbell; "is there no such thing as the desuetude of a law? Does not a law cease to be binding when it is not enforced? I appeal to Mr. Willis." Willis, thus addressed, answered that he was no moral theologian, but he had attended some schools, and he believed it was the Catholic rule that when a law had been promulgated, and was not observed by the majority, if the legislator knew the state of the case, and yet kept silence, he was considered _ipso facto_ to revoke it. "What!" said Bateman to Campbell, "do you appeal to the Romish Church?" "No," answered Campbell; "I appeal to the whole Catholic Church, of which the Church of Rome happens in this particular case to be the exponent. It is plain common sense, that, if a law is not enforced, at length it ceases to be binding. Else it would be quite a tyranny; we should not know where we were. The Church of Rome does but give expression to this common-sense view." "Well, then," said Bateman, "I will appeal to the Church of Rome too. Rome is part of the Catholic Church as well as we: since, then, the Romish Church has ever kept up fastings the ordinance is not abolished; the 'greater part' of the Catholic Church has always observed it." "But it has not," said Campbell; "it now dispenses with fasts, as you have heard." Willis interposed to ask a question. "Do you mean then," he said to Bateman, "that the Church of England and the Church of Rome make one Church?" "Most certainly," answered Bateman. "Is it possible?" said Willis; "in what sense of the word _one_?" "In every sense," answered Bateman, "but that of intercommunion." "That is, I suppose," said Willis, "they are one, except that they have no intercourse with each other." Bateman assented. Willis continued: "No intercourse; that is, no social dealings, no consulting or arranging, no ordering and obeying, no mutual support; in short, no visible union." Bateman still assented. "Well, that is my difficulty," said Willis; "I can't understand how two parts can make up one visible body if they are not visibly united; unity implies _union_." "I don't see that at all," said Bateman; "I don't see that at all. No, Willis, you must not expect I shall give that up to you; it is one of our points. There is only one visible Church, and therefore the English and Romish Churches are both parts of it." Campbell saw clearly that Bateman had got into a difficulty, and he came to the rescue in his own way. "We must distinguish," he said, "the state of the case more exactly. A kingdom may be divided, it may be distracted by parties, by dissensions, yet be still a kingdom. That, I conceive, is the real condition of the Church; in this way the Churches of England, Rome, and Greece are one." "I suppose you will grant," said Willis, "that in proportion as a rebellion is strong, so is the unity of the kingdom threatened; and if a rebellion is successful, or if the parties in a civil war manage to divide the power and territory between them, then forthwith, instead of one kingdom, we have two. Ten or fifteen years since, Belgium was part of the kingdom of the Netherlands: I suppose you would not call it part of that kingdom now? This seems the case of the Churches of Rome and England." "Still, a kingdom may be in a state of decay," replied Campbell; "consider the case of the Turkish Empire at this moment. The Union between its separate portions is so languid, that each separate Pasha may almost be termed a separate sovereign; still it is one kingdom." "The Church, then, at present," said Willis, "is a kingdom tending to dissolution?" "Certainly it is," answered Campbell. "And will ultimately fail?" asked Willis. "Certainly," said Campbell; "when the end comes, according to our Lord's saying, 'When the Son of man cometh, shall He find faith on the earth?' just as in the case of the chosen people, the sceptre failed from Judah when the Shiloh came." "Surely the Church has failed already _before_ the end," said Willis, "according to the view you take of failing. How _can_ any separation be more complete than exists at present between Rome, Greece, and England?" "They might excommunicate each other," said Campbell. "Then you are willing," said Willis, "to assign beforehand something definite, the occurrence of which will constitute a real separation." "Don't do so," said Reding to Campbell; "it is dangerous; don't commit yourself in a moral question; for then, if the thing specified did occur, it would be difficult to see our way." "No," said Willis; "you certainly _would_ be in a difficulty; but you would find your way out, I know. In that case you would choose some other _ultimatum_ as your test of schism. There would be," he added, speaking with some emotion, "'in the lowest depth a lower still.'" The concluding words were out of keeping with the tone of the conversation hitherto, and fairly excited Bateman, who, for some time, had been an impatient listener. "That's a dangerous line, Campbell," he said, "it is indeed; I can't go along with you. It will never do to say that the Church is failing; no, it never fails. It is always strong, and pure, and perfect, as the Prophets describe it. Look at its cathedrals, abbey-churches, and other sanctuaries, these fitly typify it." "My dear Bateman," answered Campbell, "I am as willing as you to maintain the fulfilment of the prophecies made to the Church, but we must allow the _fact_ that the branches of the Church are _divided_, while we maintain the _doctrine_, that the Church should be one." "I don't see that at all," answered Bateman; "no, we need not allow it. There's no such thing as Churches, there's but one Church everywhere, and it is _not_ divided. It is merely the outward forms, appearances, manifestations of the Church that are divided. The Church is one as much as ever it was." "That will never do," said Campbell; and he stood up before the fire in

moving

How many times the word 'moving' appears in the text?

Both existed before Christianity; both are of Pagan origin; both were afterwards consecrated to the service of the Church." "Pardon me," interrupted Bateman, "Gregorians were Jewish, not Pagan." "Be it so, for argument sake," said Campbell; "still, at least, they were not of Christian origin. Next, both the old music and the old architecture were inartificial and limited, as methods of exhibiting their respective arts. You can't have a large Grecian temple, you can't have a long Gregorian _Gloria_." "Not a long one!" said Bateman; "why there's poor Willis used to complain how tedious the old Gregorian compositions were abroad." "I don't explain myself," answered Campbell; "of course you may produce them to any length, but merely by addition, not by carrying on the melody. You can put two together, and then have one twice as long as either. But I speak of a musical piece, which must of course be the natural development of certain ideas, with one part depending on another. In like manner, you might make an Ionic temple twice as long or twice as wide as the Parthenon; but you would lose the beauty of proportion by doing so. This, then, is what I meant to say of the primitive architecture and the primitive music, that they soon come to their limit; they soon are exhausted, and can do nothing more. If you attempt more, it's like taxing a musical instrument beyond its powers." "You but try, Bateman," said Reding, "to make a bass play quadrilles, and you will see what is meant by taxing an instrument." "Well, I have heard Lindley play all sorts of quick tunes on his bass," said Bateman, "and most wonderful it is." "Wonderful is the right word," answered Reding; "it is very wonderful. You say, 'How _can_ he manage it?' and 'It's very wonderful for a bass;' but it is not pleasant in itself. In like manner, I have always felt a disgust when Mr. So-and-so comes forward to make his sweet flute bleat and bray like a hautbois; it's forcing the poor thing to do what it was never made for." "This is literally true as regards Gregorian music," said Campbell; "instruments did not exist in primitive times which could execute any other. But I am speaking under correction; Mr. Reding seems to know more about the subject than I do." "I have always understood, as you say," answered Charles, "modern music did not come into existence till after the powers of the violin became known. Corelli himself, who wrote not two hundred years ago, hardly ventures on the shift. The piano, again, I have heard, has almost given birth to Beethoven." "Modern music, then, could not be in ancient times, for want of modern instruments," said Campbell; "and, in like manner, Gothic architecture could not exist until vaulting was brought to perfection. Great mechanical inventions have taken place, both in architecture and in music, since the age of basilicas and Gregorians; and each science has gained by it." "It is curious enough," said Reding, "one thing I have been accustomed to say, quite falls in with this view of yours. When people who are not musicians have accused Handel and Beethoven of not being _simple_, I have always said, 'Is Gothic architecture _simple_?' A cathedral expresses one idea, but it is indefinitely varied and elaborated in its parts; so is a symphony or quartett of Beethoven." "Certainly, Bateman, you must tolerate Pagan architecture, or you must in consistency exclude Pagan or Jewish Gregorians," said Campbell; "you must tolerate figured music, or reprobate tracery windows." "And which are you for," asked Bateman, "Gothic with Handel, or Roman with Gregorians?" "For both in their place," answered Campbell. "I exceedingly prefer Gothic architecture to classical. I think it the one true child and development of Christianity; but I won't, for that reason, discard the Pagan style which has been sanctified by eighteen centuries, by the exclusive love of many Christian countries, and by the sanction of a host of saints. I am for toleration. Give Gothic an ascendancy; be respectful towards classical." The conversation slackened. "Much as I like modern music," said Charles, "I can't quite go the length to which your doctrine would lead me. I cannot, indeed, help liking Mozart; but surely his music is not religious." "I have not been speaking in defence of particular composers," said Campbell; "figured music may be right, yet Mozart or Beethoven inadmissible. In like manner, you don't suppose, because I tolerate Roman architecture, that therefore I like naked cupids to stand for cherubs, and sprawling women for the cardinal virtues." He paused. "Besides," he added, "as you were saying yourself just now, we must consult the genius of our country and the religious associations of our people." "Well," said Bateman, "I think the perfection of sacred music is Gregorian set to harmonies; there you have the glorious old chants, and just a little modern richness." "And I think it just the worst of all," answered Campbell; "it is a mixture of two things, each good in itself, and incongruous together. It's a mixture of the first and second courses at table. It's like the architecture of the fa ade at Milan, half Gothic, half Grecian." "It's what is always used, I believe," said Charles. "Oh yes, we must not go against the age," said Campbell; "it would be absurd to do so. I only spoke of what was right and wrong on abstract principles; and, to tell the truth, I can't help liking the mixture myself, though I can't defend it." Bateman rang for tea; his friends wished to return home soon; it was the month of January, and no season for after-dinner strolls. "Well," he said, "Campbell, you are more lenient to the age than to me; you yield to the age when it sets a figured bass to a Gregorian tone; but you laugh at me for setting a coat upon a cassock." "It's no honour to be the author of a mongrel type," said Campbell. "A mongrel type?" said Bateman; "rather it is a transition state." "What are you passing to?" asked Charles. "Talking of transitions," said Campbell abruptly, "do you know that your man Willis--I don't know his college, he turned Romanist--is living in my parish, and I have hopes he is making a transition back again." "Have you seen him?" said Charles. "No; I have called, but was unfortunate; he was out. He still goes to mass, I find." "Why, where does he find a chapel?" asked Bateman. "At Seaton. A good seven miles from you," said Charles. "Yes," answered Campbell; "and he walks to and fro every Sunday." "That is not like a transition, except a physical one," observed Reding. "A person must go somewhere," answered Campbell; "I suppose he went to church up to the week he joined the Romanists." "Very awful, these defections," said Bateman; "but very satisfactory, a melancholy satisfaction," with a look at Charles, "that the victims of delusions should be at length recovered." "Yes," said Campbell; "very sad indeed. I am afraid we must expect a number more." "Well, I don't know how to think it," said Charles; "the hold our Church has on the mind is so powerful; it is such a wrench to leave it, I cannot fancy any party-tie standing against it. Humanly speaking, there is far, far more to keep them fast than to carry them away." "Yes, if they moved as a party," said Campbell; "but that is not the case. They don't move simply because others move, but, poor fellows, because they can't help it.--Bateman, will you let my chaise be brought round?--How _can_ they help it?" continued he, standing up over the fire; "their Catholic principles lead them on, and there's nothing to drive them back." "Why should not their love for their own Church?" asked Bateman; "it is deplorable, unpardonable." "They will keep going one after another, as they ripen," said Campbell. "Did you hear the report--I did not think much of it myself," said Reding,--"that Smith was moving?" "Not impossible," answered Campbell thoughtfully. "Impossible, quite impossible," cried Bateman; "such a triumph to the enemy; I'll not believe it till I see it." "_Not_ impossible," repeated Campbell, as he buttoned and fitted his great-coat about him; "he has shifted his ground." His carriage was announced. "Mr. Reding, I believe I can take you part of your way, if you will accept of a seat in my pony-chaise." Charles accepted the offer; and Bateman was soon deserted by his two guests. CHAPTER XVII. Campbell put Charles down about half-way between Melford and his home. It was bright moonlight; and, after thanking his new friend for the lift, he bounded over the stile at the side of the road, and was at once buried in the shade of the copse along which his path lay. Soon he came in sight of a tall wooden Cross, which, in better days, had been a religious emblem, but had served in latter times to mark the boundary between two contiguous parishes. The moon was behind him, and the sacred symbol rose awfully in the pale sky, overhanging a pool, which was still venerated in the neighbourhood for its reported miraculous virtue. Charles, to his surprise, saw distinctly a man kneeling on the little mound out of which the Cross grew; nay, heard him, for his shoulders were bare, and he was using the discipline upon them, while he repeated what appeared to be some form of devotion. Charles stopped, unwilling to interrupt, yet not knowing how to pass; but the stranger had caught the sound of feet, and in a few seconds vanished from his view. He was overcome with a sudden emotion, which he could not control. "O happy times," he cried, "when faith was one! O blessed penitent, whoever you are, who know what to believe, and how to gain pardon, and can begin where others end! Here am I, in my twenty-third year, uncertain about everything, because I have nothing to trust." He drew near to the Cross, took off his hat, knelt down and kissed the wood, and prayed awhile that whatever might be the consequences, whatever the trial, whatever the loss, he might have grace to follow whithersoever God should call him. He then rose and turned to the cold well; he took some water in his palm and drank it. He felt as if he could have prayed to the Saint who owned that pool--St. Thomas the Martyr, he believed--to plead for him, and to aid him in his search after the true faith; but something whispered, "It is wrong;" and he checked the wish. So, regaining his hat, he passed away, and pursued his homeward path at a brisk pace. The family had retired for the night, and he went up without delay to his bedroom. Passing through his study, he found a letter lying on his table, without post-mark, which had come for him in his absence. He broke the seal; it was an anonymous paper, and began as follows:-- "_Questions for one whom it concerns._ 1. What is meant by the One Church of which the Creed speaks?" "This is too much for to-night," thought Charles, "it is late already;" and he folded it up again and threw it on his dressing-table. "Some well-meaning person, I dare say, who thinks he knows me." He wound up his watch, gave a yawn, and put on his slippers. "Who can there be in this neighbourhood to write it?" He opened it again. "It's certainly a Catholic's writing," he said. His mind glanced to the person whom he had seen under the Cross; perhaps it glanced further. He sat down and began reading _in extenso:_-- "_Questions for one whom it concerns._ 1. What is meant by the One Church of which the Creed speaks? 2. Is it a generalization or a thing? 3. Does it belong to past history or to the present time? 4. Does not Scripture speak of it as a kingdom? 5. And a kingdom which was to last to the end? 6. What is a kingdom? and what is meant when Scripture calls the Church a kingdom? 7. Is it a visible kingdom, or an invisible? 8. Can a kingdom have two governments, and these acting in contrary directions? 9. Is identity of institutions, opinions, or race, sufficient to make two nations one kingdom? 10. Is the Episcopal form, the hierarchy, or the Apostles' Creed, sufficient to make the Churches of Rome and of England one? 11. Where there are parts, does not unity require union, and a visible unity require a visible union? 12. How can two religions be the same which have utterly distinct worships and ideas of worship? 13. Can two religions be one, if the most sacred and peculiar act of worship in the one is called 'a blasphemous fable and dangerous deceit' in the other? 14. Has not the One Church of Christ one faith? 15. Can a Church be Christ's which has not one faith? 16. Which is contradictory to itself in its documents? 17. And in different centuries? 18. And in its documents contrasted with its divines? 19. And in its divines and members one with another? 20. What is _the_ faith of the English Church? 21. How many Councils does the English Church admit? 22. Does the English Church consider the present Nestorian and Jacobite Churches under an anathema, or part of the visible Church? 23. Is it necessary, or possible, to believe any one but a professed messenger from God? 24. Is the English Church, does she claim to be, a messenger from God? 25. Does she impart the truth, or bid us seek it? 26. If she leaves us to seek it, do members of the English Church seek it with that earnestness which Scripture enjoins? 27. Is a person safe who lives without faith, even though he seems to have hope and charity?" Charles got very sleepy before he reached the "twenty-seventhly." "It won't do," he said; "I am only losing my time. They seem well put; but they must stand over." He put the paper from him, said his prayers, and was soon fast asleep. Next morning, on waking, the subject of the letter came into his mind, and he lay for some time thinking over it. "Certainly," he said, "I do wish very much to be settled either in the English Church or somewhere else. I wish I knew _what_ Christianity was; I am ready to be at pains to seek it, and would accept it eagerly and thankfully, if found. But it's a work of time; all the paper-arguments in the world are unequal to giving one a view in a moment. There must be a process; they may shorten it, as medicine shortens physical processes, but they can't supersede its necessity. I recollect how all my religious doubts and theories went to flight on my dear father's death. They weren't part of me, and could not sustain rough weather. Conviction is the eyesight of the mind, not a conclusion from premises; God works it, and His works are slow. At least so it is with me. I can't believe on a sudden; if I attempt it, I shall be using words for things, and be sure to repent it. Or if not, I shall go right merely by hazard. I must move in what seems God's way; I can but put myself on the road; a higher power must overtake me, and carry me forward. At present I have a direct duty upon me, which my dear father left me, to take a good class. This is the path of duty. I won't put off the inquiry, but I'll let it proceed in that path. God can bless my reading to my spiritual illumination, as well as anything else. Saul sought his father's asses, and found a kingdom. All in good time. When I have taken my degree the subject will properly come on me." He sighed. "My degree! those odious Articles! rather, when I have passed my examination. Well, it's no good lying here;" and he jumped up, and signed himself with the Cross. His eye caught the letter. "It's well written--better than Willis could write; it's not Willis's. There's something about that Willis I don't understand. I wonder how he and his mother get on together. I don't think he _has_ any sisters." CHAPTER XVIII. Campbell had been much pleased with Reding, and his interest in him was not lessened by a hint from Bateman that his allegiance to the English Church was in danger. He called on him in no long time, asked him to dinner, and, when Charles had returned his invitation, and Campbell had accepted it, the beginning of an acquaintance was formed between the rectory at Sutton and the family at Boughton which grew into an intimacy as time went on. Campbell was a gentleman, a travelled man, of clear head and ardent mind, candid, well-read in English divinity, a devoted Anglican, and the incumbent of a living so well endowed as almost to be a dignity. Mary was pleased at the introduction, as bringing her brother under the influence of an intellect which he could not make light of; and, as Campbell had a carriage, it was natural that he should wish to save Charles the loss of a day's reading and the trouble of a muddy walk to the rectory and back by coming over himself to Boughton. Accordingly it so happened that he saw Charles twice at his mother's for once that he saw him at Sutton. But whatever came of these visits, nothing occurred which particularly bears upon the line of our narrative; so let them pass. One day Charles called upon Bateman, and, on entering the room, was surprised to see him and Campbell at luncheon, and in conversation with a third person. There was a moment's surprise and hesitation on seeing him before they rose and welcomed him as usual. When he looked at the stranger he felt a slight awkwardness himself, which he could not control. It was Willis; and apparently submitted to the process of reconversion. Charles was evidently _de trop_, but there was no help for it; so he shook hands with Willis, and accepted the pressing call of Bateman to seat himself at table, and to share their bread and cheese. Charles sat down opposite Willis, and for a while could not keep his eyes from him. At first he had some difficulty in believing he had before him the impetuous youth he had known two years and a half before. He had always been silent in general company; but in that he was changed, as in everything else. Not that he talked more than was natural, but he talked freely and easily. The great change, however, was in his appearance and manner. He had lost his bloom and youthfulness; his expression was sweeter indeed than before, and very placid, but there was a thin line down his face on each side of his mouth; his cheeks were wanting in fulness, and he had the air of a man of thirty. When he entered into conversation, and became animated, his former self returned. "I suppose we may all admire this cream at this season," said Charles, as he helped himself, "for we are none of us Devonshire men." "It's not peculiar to Devonshire," answered Campbell; "that is, they have it abroad. At Rome there is a sort of cream or cheese very like it, and very common." "Will butter and cream keep in so warm a climate?" asked Charles; "I fancied oil was the substitute." "Rome is not so warm as you fancy," said Willis, "except during the summer." "Oil? so it is," said Campbell; "thus we read in Scripture of the multiplication of the oil and meal, which seems to answer to bread and butter. The oil in Rome is excellent, so clear and pale; you can eat it as milk." "The taste, I suppose, is peculiar," observed Charles. "Just at first," answered Campbell; "but one soon gets used to it. All such substances, milk, butter, cheese, oil, have a particular taste at first, which use alone gets over. The rich Guernsey butter is too much for strangers, while Russians relish whale-oil. Most of our tastes are in a measure artificial." "It is certainly so with vegetables," said Willis; "when I was a boy I could not eat beans, spinach, asparagus, parsnips, and I think some others." "Therefore your hermit's fare is not only the most natural, but the only naturally palatable, I suppose,--a crust of bread and a draught from the stream," replied Campbell. "Or the Clerk of Copmanhurst's dry peas," said Charles. "The macaroni and grapes of the Neapolitans are as natural and more palatable," said Willis. "Rather they are a luxury," said Bateman. "No," answered Campbell, "not a luxury; a luxury is in its very idea a something _recherch _. Thus Horace speaks of the '_peregrina lagois_.' What nature yields _sponte su _ around you, however delicious, is no luxury. Wild ducks are no luxury in your old neighbourhood, amid your Oxford fens, Bateman; nor grapes at Naples." "Then the old women here are luxurious over their sixpenn'rth of tea," said Bateman; "for it comes from China." Campbell was posed for an instant. Somehow neither he nor Bateman were quite at their ease, whether with themselves or with each other; it might be Charles's sudden intrusion, or something which had happened before it. Campbell answered at length that steamers and railroads were making strange changes; that time and place were vanishing, and price would soon be the only measure of luxury. "This seems the measure also of _grasso_ and _magro_ food in Italy," said Willis; "for I think there are dispensations for butcher's meat in Lent, in consequence of the dearness of bread and oil." "This seems to show that the age for abstinences and fastings is past," observed Campbell; "for it's absurd to keep Lent on beef and mutton." "Oh, Campbell, what are you saying?" cried Bateman; "past! are we bound by their lax ways in Italy?" "I do certainly think," answered Campbell, "that fasting is unsuitable to this age, in England as well as in Rome." "Take care, my fine fellows," thought Charles; "keep your ranks, or you won't secure your prisoner." "What, not fast on Friday!" cried Bateman; "we always did so most rigidly at Oxford." "It does you credit," answered Campbell; "but I am of Cambridge." "But what do you say to Rubrics and the Calendar?" insisted Bateman. "They are not binding," answered Campbell. "They _are_, binding," said Bateman. A pause, as between the rounds of a boxing-match. Reding interposed: "Bateman, cut me, please, a bit of your capital bread--home-made, I suppose?" "A thousand pardons!" said Bateman:--"not binding?--Pass it to him, Willis, if you please. Yes, it comes from a farmer, next door. I'm glad you like it.--I repeat, they _are_ binding, Campbell." "An odd sort of binding, when they have never bound," answered Campbell; "they have existed two or three hundred years; when were they ever put in force?" "But there they are," said Bateman, "in the Prayer Book." "Yes, and there let them lie and never get out of it," retorted Campbell; "there they will stay till the end of the story." "Oh, for shame!" cried Bateman; "you should aid your mother in a difficulty, and not be like the priest and the Levite." "My mother does not wish to be aided," continued Campbell. "Oh, how you talk! What shall I do? What can be done?" cried poor Bateman. "Done! nothing," said Campbell; "is there no such thing as the desuetude of a law? Does not a law cease to be binding when it is not enforced? I appeal to Mr. Willis." Willis, thus addressed, answered that he was no moral theologian, but he had attended some schools, and he believed it was the Catholic rule that when a law had been promulgated, and was not observed by the majority, if the legislator knew the state of the case, and yet kept silence, he was considered _ipso facto_ to revoke it. "What!" said Bateman to Campbell, "do you appeal to the Romish Church?" "No," answered Campbell; "I appeal to the whole Catholic Church, of which the Church of Rome happens in this particular case to be the exponent. It is plain common sense, that, if a law is not enforced, at length it ceases to be binding. Else it would be quite a tyranny; we should not know where we were. The Church of Rome does but give expression to this common-sense view." "Well, then," said Bateman, "I will appeal to the Church of Rome too. Rome is part of the Catholic Church as well as we: since, then, the Romish Church has ever kept up fastings the ordinance is not abolished; the 'greater part' of the Catholic Church has always observed it." "But it has not," said Campbell; "it now dispenses with fasts, as you have heard." Willis interposed to ask a question. "Do you mean then," he said to Bateman, "that the Church of England and the Church of Rome make one Church?" "Most certainly," answered Bateman. "Is it possible?" said Willis; "in what sense of the word _one_?" "In every sense," answered Bateman, "but that of intercommunion." "That is, I suppose," said Willis, "they are one, except that they have no intercourse with each other." Bateman assented. Willis continued: "No intercourse; that is, no social dealings, no consulting or arranging, no ordering and obeying, no mutual support; in short, no visible union." Bateman still assented. "Well, that is my difficulty," said Willis; "I can't understand how two parts can make up one visible body if they are not visibly united; unity implies _union_." "I don't see that at all," said Bateman; "I don't see that at all. No, Willis, you must not expect I shall give that up to you; it is one of our points. There is only one visible Church, and therefore the English and Romish Churches are both parts of it." Campbell saw clearly that Bateman had got into a difficulty, and he came to the rescue in his own way. "We must distinguish," he said, "the state of the case more exactly. A kingdom may be divided, it may be distracted by parties, by dissensions, yet be still a kingdom. That, I conceive, is the real condition of the Church; in this way the Churches of England, Rome, and Greece are one." "I suppose you will grant," said Willis, "that in proportion as a rebellion is strong, so is the unity of the kingdom threatened; and if a rebellion is successful, or if the parties in a civil war manage to divide the power and territory between them, then forthwith, instead of one kingdom, we have two. Ten or fifteen years since, Belgium was part of the kingdom of the Netherlands: I suppose you would not call it part of that kingdom now? This seems the case of the Churches of Rome and England." "Still, a kingdom may be in a state of decay," replied Campbell; "consider the case of the Turkish Empire at this moment. The Union between its separate portions is so languid, that each separate Pasha may almost be termed a separate sovereign; still it is one kingdom." "The Church, then, at present," said Willis, "is a kingdom tending to dissolution?" "Certainly it is," answered Campbell. "And will ultimately fail?" asked Willis. "Certainly," said Campbell; "when the end comes, according to our Lord's saying, 'When the Son of man cometh, shall He find faith on the earth?' just as in the case of the chosen people, the sceptre failed from Judah when the Shiloh came." "Surely the Church has failed already _before_ the end," said Willis, "according to the view you take of failing. How _can_ any separation be more complete than exists at present between Rome, Greece, and England?" "They might excommunicate each other," said Campbell. "Then you are willing," said Willis, "to assign beforehand something definite, the occurrence of which will constitute a real separation." "Don't do so," said Reding to Campbell; "it is dangerous; don't commit yourself in a moral question; for then, if the thing specified did occur, it would be difficult to see our way." "No," said Willis; "you certainly _would_ be in a difficulty; but you would find your way out, I know. In that case you would choose some other _ultimatum_ as your test of schism. There would be," he added, speaking with some emotion, "'in the lowest depth a lower still.'" The concluding words were out of keeping with the tone of the conversation hitherto, and fairly excited Bateman, who, for some time, had been an impatient listener. "That's a dangerous line, Campbell," he said, "it is indeed; I can't go along with you. It will never do to say that the Church is failing; no, it never fails. It is always strong, and pure, and perfect, as the Prophets describe it. Look at its cathedrals, abbey-churches, and other sanctuaries, these fitly typify it." "My dear Bateman," answered Campbell, "I am as willing as you to maintain the fulfilment of the prophecies made to the Church, but we must allow the _fact_ that the branches of the Church are _divided_, while we maintain the _doctrine_, that the Church should be one." "I don't see that at all," answered Bateman; "no, we need not allow it. There's no such thing as Churches, there's but one Church everywhere, and it is _not_ divided. It is merely the outward forms, appearances, manifestations of the Church that are divided. The Church is one as much as ever it was." "That will never do," said Campbell; and he stood up before the fire in

equal

How many times the word 'equal' appears in the text?

Both existed before Christianity; both are of Pagan origin; both were afterwards consecrated to the service of the Church." "Pardon me," interrupted Bateman, "Gregorians were Jewish, not Pagan." "Be it so, for argument sake," said Campbell; "still, at least, they were not of Christian origin. Next, both the old music and the old architecture were inartificial and limited, as methods of exhibiting their respective arts. You can't have a large Grecian temple, you can't have a long Gregorian _Gloria_." "Not a long one!" said Bateman; "why there's poor Willis used to complain how tedious the old Gregorian compositions were abroad." "I don't explain myself," answered Campbell; "of course you may produce them to any length, but merely by addition, not by carrying on the melody. You can put two together, and then have one twice as long as either. But I speak of a musical piece, which must of course be the natural development of certain ideas, with one part depending on another. In like manner, you might make an Ionic temple twice as long or twice as wide as the Parthenon; but you would lose the beauty of proportion by doing so. This, then, is what I meant to say of the primitive architecture and the primitive music, that they soon come to their limit; they soon are exhausted, and can do nothing more. If you attempt more, it's like taxing a musical instrument beyond its powers." "You but try, Bateman," said Reding, "to make a bass play quadrilles, and you will see what is meant by taxing an instrument." "Well, I have heard Lindley play all sorts of quick tunes on his bass," said Bateman, "and most wonderful it is." "Wonderful is the right word," answered Reding; "it is very wonderful. You say, 'How _can_ he manage it?' and 'It's very wonderful for a bass;' but it is not pleasant in itself. In like manner, I have always felt a disgust when Mr. So-and-so comes forward to make his sweet flute bleat and bray like a hautbois; it's forcing the poor thing to do what it was never made for." "This is literally true as regards Gregorian music," said Campbell; "instruments did not exist in primitive times which could execute any other. But I am speaking under correction; Mr. Reding seems to know more about the subject than I do." "I have always understood, as you say," answered Charles, "modern music did not come into existence till after the powers of the violin became known. Corelli himself, who wrote not two hundred years ago, hardly ventures on the shift. The piano, again, I have heard, has almost given birth to Beethoven." "Modern music, then, could not be in ancient times, for want of modern instruments," said Campbell; "and, in like manner, Gothic architecture could not exist until vaulting was brought to perfection. Great mechanical inventions have taken place, both in architecture and in music, since the age of basilicas and Gregorians; and each science has gained by it." "It is curious enough," said Reding, "one thing I have been accustomed to say, quite falls in with this view of yours. When people who are not musicians have accused Handel and Beethoven of not being _simple_, I have always said, 'Is Gothic architecture _simple_?' A cathedral expresses one idea, but it is indefinitely varied and elaborated in its parts; so is a symphony or quartett of Beethoven." "Certainly, Bateman, you must tolerate Pagan architecture, or you must in consistency exclude Pagan or Jewish Gregorians," said Campbell; "you must tolerate figured music, or reprobate tracery windows." "And which are you for," asked Bateman, "Gothic with Handel, or Roman with Gregorians?" "For both in their place," answered Campbell. "I exceedingly prefer Gothic architecture to classical. I think it the one true child and development of Christianity; but I won't, for that reason, discard the Pagan style which has been sanctified by eighteen centuries, by the exclusive love of many Christian countries, and by the sanction of a host of saints. I am for toleration. Give Gothic an ascendancy; be respectful towards classical." The conversation slackened. "Much as I like modern music," said Charles, "I can't quite go the length to which your doctrine would lead me. I cannot, indeed, help liking Mozart; but surely his music is not religious." "I have not been speaking in defence of particular composers," said Campbell; "figured music may be right, yet Mozart or Beethoven inadmissible. In like manner, you don't suppose, because I tolerate Roman architecture, that therefore I like naked cupids to stand for cherubs, and sprawling women for the cardinal virtues." He paused. "Besides," he added, "as you were saying yourself just now, we must consult the genius of our country and the religious associations of our people." "Well," said Bateman, "I think the perfection of sacred music is Gregorian set to harmonies; there you have the glorious old chants, and just a little modern richness." "And I think it just the worst of all," answered Campbell; "it is a mixture of two things, each good in itself, and incongruous together. It's a mixture of the first and second courses at table. It's like the architecture of the fa ade at Milan, half Gothic, half Grecian." "It's what is always used, I believe," said Charles. "Oh yes, we must not go against the age," said Campbell; "it would be absurd to do so. I only spoke of what was right and wrong on abstract principles; and, to tell the truth, I can't help liking the mixture myself, though I can't defend it." Bateman rang for tea; his friends wished to return home soon; it was the month of January, and no season for after-dinner strolls. "Well," he said, "Campbell, you are more lenient to the age than to me; you yield to the age when it sets a figured bass to a Gregorian tone; but you laugh at me for setting a coat upon a cassock." "It's no honour to be the author of a mongrel type," said Campbell. "A mongrel type?" said Bateman; "rather it is a transition state." "What are you passing to?" asked Charles. "Talking of transitions," said Campbell abruptly, "do you know that your man Willis--I don't know his college, he turned Romanist--is living in my parish, and I have hopes he is making a transition back again." "Have you seen him?" said Charles. "No; I have called, but was unfortunate; he was out. He still goes to mass, I find." "Why, where does he find a chapel?" asked Bateman. "At Seaton. A good seven miles from you," said Charles. "Yes," answered Campbell; "and he walks to and fro every Sunday." "That is not like a transition, except a physical one," observed Reding. "A person must go somewhere," answered Campbell; "I suppose he went to church up to the week he joined the Romanists." "Very awful, these defections," said Bateman; "but very satisfactory, a melancholy satisfaction," with a look at Charles, "that the victims of delusions should be at length recovered." "Yes," said Campbell; "very sad indeed. I am afraid we must expect a number more." "Well, I don't know how to think it," said Charles; "the hold our Church has on the mind is so powerful; it is such a wrench to leave it, I cannot fancy any party-tie standing against it. Humanly speaking, there is far, far more to keep them fast than to carry them away." "Yes, if they moved as a party," said Campbell; "but that is not the case. They don't move simply because others move, but, poor fellows, because they can't help it.--Bateman, will you let my chaise be brought round?--How _can_ they help it?" continued he, standing up over the fire; "their Catholic principles lead them on, and there's nothing to drive them back." "Why should not their love for their own Church?" asked Bateman; "it is deplorable, unpardonable." "They will keep going one after another, as they ripen," said Campbell. "Did you hear the report--I did not think much of it myself," said Reding,--"that Smith was moving?" "Not impossible," answered Campbell thoughtfully. "Impossible, quite impossible," cried Bateman; "such a triumph to the enemy; I'll not believe it till I see it." "_Not_ impossible," repeated Campbell, as he buttoned and fitted his great-coat about him; "he has shifted his ground." His carriage was announced. "Mr. Reding, I believe I can take you part of your way, if you will accept of a seat in my pony-chaise." Charles accepted the offer; and Bateman was soon deserted by his two guests. CHAPTER XVII. Campbell put Charles down about half-way between Melford and his home. It was bright moonlight; and, after thanking his new friend for the lift, he bounded over the stile at the side of the road, and was at once buried in the shade of the copse along which his path lay. Soon he came in sight of a tall wooden Cross, which, in better days, had been a religious emblem, but had served in latter times to mark the boundary between two contiguous parishes. The moon was behind him, and the sacred symbol rose awfully in the pale sky, overhanging a pool, which was still venerated in the neighbourhood for its reported miraculous virtue. Charles, to his surprise, saw distinctly a man kneeling on the little mound out of which the Cross grew; nay, heard him, for his shoulders were bare, and he was using the discipline upon them, while he repeated what appeared to be some form of devotion. Charles stopped, unwilling to interrupt, yet not knowing how to pass; but the stranger had caught the sound of feet, and in a few seconds vanished from his view. He was overcome with a sudden emotion, which he could not control. "O happy times," he cried, "when faith was one! O blessed penitent, whoever you are, who know what to believe, and how to gain pardon, and can begin where others end! Here am I, in my twenty-third year, uncertain about everything, because I have nothing to trust." He drew near to the Cross, took off his hat, knelt down and kissed the wood, and prayed awhile that whatever might be the consequences, whatever the trial, whatever the loss, he might have grace to follow whithersoever God should call him. He then rose and turned to the cold well; he took some water in his palm and drank it. He felt as if he could have prayed to the Saint who owned that pool--St. Thomas the Martyr, he believed--to plead for him, and to aid him in his search after the true faith; but something whispered, "It is wrong;" and he checked the wish. So, regaining his hat, he passed away, and pursued his homeward path at a brisk pace. The family had retired for the night, and he went up without delay to his bedroom. Passing through his study, he found a letter lying on his table, without post-mark, which had come for him in his absence. He broke the seal; it was an anonymous paper, and began as follows:-- "_Questions for one whom it concerns._ 1. What is meant by the One Church of which the Creed speaks?" "This is too much for to-night," thought Charles, "it is late already;" and he folded it up again and threw it on his dressing-table. "Some well-meaning person, I dare say, who thinks he knows me." He wound up his watch, gave a yawn, and put on his slippers. "Who can there be in this neighbourhood to write it?" He opened it again. "It's certainly a Catholic's writing," he said. His mind glanced to the person whom he had seen under the Cross; perhaps it glanced further. He sat down and began reading _in extenso:_-- "_Questions for one whom it concerns._ 1. What is meant by the One Church of which the Creed speaks? 2. Is it a generalization or a thing? 3. Does it belong to past history or to the present time? 4. Does not Scripture speak of it as a kingdom? 5. And a kingdom which was to last to the end? 6. What is a kingdom? and what is meant when Scripture calls the Church a kingdom? 7. Is it a visible kingdom, or an invisible? 8. Can a kingdom have two governments, and these acting in contrary directions? 9. Is identity of institutions, opinions, or race, sufficient to make two nations one kingdom? 10. Is the Episcopal form, the hierarchy, or the Apostles' Creed, sufficient to make the Churches of Rome and of England one? 11. Where there are parts, does not unity require union, and a visible unity require a visible union? 12. How can two religions be the same which have utterly distinct worships and ideas of worship? 13. Can two religions be one, if the most sacred and peculiar act of worship in the one is called 'a blasphemous fable and dangerous deceit' in the other? 14. Has not the One Church of Christ one faith? 15. Can a Church be Christ's which has not one faith? 16. Which is contradictory to itself in its documents? 17. And in different centuries? 18. And in its documents contrasted with its divines? 19. And in its divines and members one with another? 20. What is _the_ faith of the English Church? 21. How many Councils does the English Church admit? 22. Does the English Church consider the present Nestorian and Jacobite Churches under an anathema, or part of the visible Church? 23. Is it necessary, or possible, to believe any one but a professed messenger from God? 24. Is the English Church, does she claim to be, a messenger from God? 25. Does she impart the truth, or bid us seek it? 26. If she leaves us to seek it, do members of the English Church seek it with that earnestness which Scripture enjoins? 27. Is a person safe who lives without faith, even though he seems to have hope and charity?" Charles got very sleepy before he reached the "twenty-seventhly." "It won't do," he said; "I am only losing my time. They seem well put; but they must stand over." He put the paper from him, said his prayers, and was soon fast asleep. Next morning, on waking, the subject of the letter came into his mind, and he lay for some time thinking over it. "Certainly," he said, "I do wish very much to be settled either in the English Church or somewhere else. I wish I knew _what_ Christianity was; I am ready to be at pains to seek it, and would accept it eagerly and thankfully, if found. But it's a work of time; all the paper-arguments in the world are unequal to giving one a view in a moment. There must be a process; they may shorten it, as medicine shortens physical processes, but they can't supersede its necessity. I recollect how all my religious doubts and theories went to flight on my dear father's death. They weren't part of me, and could not sustain rough weather. Conviction is the eyesight of the mind, not a conclusion from premises; God works it, and His works are slow. At least so it is with me. I can't believe on a sudden; if I attempt it, I shall be using words for things, and be sure to repent it. Or if not, I shall go right merely by hazard. I must move in what seems God's way; I can but put myself on the road; a higher power must overtake me, and carry me forward. At present I have a direct duty upon me, which my dear father left me, to take a good class. This is the path of duty. I won't put off the inquiry, but I'll let it proceed in that path. God can bless my reading to my spiritual illumination, as well as anything else. Saul sought his father's asses, and found a kingdom. All in good time. When I have taken my degree the subject will properly come on me." He sighed. "My degree! those odious Articles! rather, when I have passed my examination. Well, it's no good lying here;" and he jumped up, and signed himself with the Cross. His eye caught the letter. "It's well written--better than Willis could write; it's not Willis's. There's something about that Willis I don't understand. I wonder how he and his mother get on together. I don't think he _has_ any sisters." CHAPTER XVIII. Campbell had been much pleased with Reding, and his interest in him was not lessened by a hint from Bateman that his allegiance to the English Church was in danger. He called on him in no long time, asked him to dinner, and, when Charles had returned his invitation, and Campbell had accepted it, the beginning of an acquaintance was formed between the rectory at Sutton and the family at Boughton which grew into an intimacy as time went on. Campbell was a gentleman, a travelled man, of clear head and ardent mind, candid, well-read in English divinity, a devoted Anglican, and the incumbent of a living so well endowed as almost to be a dignity. Mary was pleased at the introduction, as bringing her brother under the influence of an intellect which he could not make light of; and, as Campbell had a carriage, it was natural that he should wish to save Charles the loss of a day's reading and the trouble of a muddy walk to the rectory and back by coming over himself to Boughton. Accordingly it so happened that he saw Charles twice at his mother's for once that he saw him at Sutton. But whatever came of these visits, nothing occurred which particularly bears upon the line of our narrative; so let them pass. One day Charles called upon Bateman, and, on entering the room, was surprised to see him and Campbell at luncheon, and in conversation with a third person. There was a moment's surprise and hesitation on seeing him before they rose and welcomed him as usual. When he looked at the stranger he felt a slight awkwardness himself, which he could not control. It was Willis; and apparently submitted to the process of reconversion. Charles was evidently _de trop_, but there was no help for it; so he shook hands with Willis, and accepted the pressing call of Bateman to seat himself at table, and to share their bread and cheese. Charles sat down opposite Willis, and for a while could not keep his eyes from him. At first he had some difficulty in believing he had before him the impetuous youth he had known two years and a half before. He had always been silent in general company; but in that he was changed, as in everything else. Not that he talked more than was natural, but he talked freely and easily. The great change, however, was in his appearance and manner. He had lost his bloom and youthfulness; his expression was sweeter indeed than before, and very placid, but there was a thin line down his face on each side of his mouth; his cheeks were wanting in fulness, and he had the air of a man of thirty. When he entered into conversation, and became animated, his former self returned. "I suppose we may all admire this cream at this season," said Charles, as he helped himself, "for we are none of us Devonshire men." "It's not peculiar to Devonshire," answered Campbell; "that is, they have it abroad. At Rome there is a sort of cream or cheese very like it, and very common." "Will butter and cream keep in so warm a climate?" asked Charles; "I fancied oil was the substitute." "Rome is not so warm as you fancy," said Willis, "except during the summer." "Oil? so it is," said Campbell; "thus we read in Scripture of the multiplication of the oil and meal, which seems to answer to bread and butter. The oil in Rome is excellent, so clear and pale; you can eat it as milk." "The taste, I suppose, is peculiar," observed Charles. "Just at first," answered Campbell; "but one soon gets used to it. All such substances, milk, butter, cheese, oil, have a particular taste at first, which use alone gets over. The rich Guernsey butter is too much for strangers, while Russians relish whale-oil. Most of our tastes are in a measure artificial." "It is certainly so with vegetables," said Willis; "when I was a boy I could not eat beans, spinach, asparagus, parsnips, and I think some others." "Therefore your hermit's fare is not only the most natural, but the only naturally palatable, I suppose,--a crust of bread and a draught from the stream," replied Campbell. "Or the Clerk of Copmanhurst's dry peas," said Charles. "The macaroni and grapes of the Neapolitans are as natural and more palatable," said Willis. "Rather they are a luxury," said Bateman. "No," answered Campbell, "not a luxury; a luxury is in its very idea a something _recherch _. Thus Horace speaks of the '_peregrina lagois_.' What nature yields _sponte su _ around you, however delicious, is no luxury. Wild ducks are no luxury in your old neighbourhood, amid your Oxford fens, Bateman; nor grapes at Naples." "Then the old women here are luxurious over their sixpenn'rth of tea," said Bateman; "for it comes from China." Campbell was posed for an instant. Somehow neither he nor Bateman were quite at their ease, whether with themselves or with each other; it might be Charles's sudden intrusion, or something which had happened before it. Campbell answered at length that steamers and railroads were making strange changes; that time and place were vanishing, and price would soon be the only measure of luxury. "This seems the measure also of _grasso_ and _magro_ food in Italy," said Willis; "for I think there are dispensations for butcher's meat in Lent, in consequence of the dearness of bread and oil." "This seems to show that the age for abstinences and fastings is past," observed Campbell; "for it's absurd to keep Lent on beef and mutton." "Oh, Campbell, what are you saying?" cried Bateman; "past! are we bound by their lax ways in Italy?" "I do certainly think," answered Campbell, "that fasting is unsuitable to this age, in England as well as in Rome." "Take care, my fine fellows," thought Charles; "keep your ranks, or you won't secure your prisoner." "What, not fast on Friday!" cried Bateman; "we always did so most rigidly at Oxford." "It does you credit," answered Campbell; "but I am of Cambridge." "But what do you say to Rubrics and the Calendar?" insisted Bateman. "They are not binding," answered Campbell. "They _are_, binding," said Bateman. A pause, as between the rounds of a boxing-match. Reding interposed: "Bateman, cut me, please, a bit of your capital bread--home-made, I suppose?" "A thousand pardons!" said Bateman:--"not binding?--Pass it to him, Willis, if you please. Yes, it comes from a farmer, next door. I'm glad you like it.--I repeat, they _are_ binding, Campbell." "An odd sort of binding, when they have never bound," answered Campbell; "they have existed two or three hundred years; when were they ever put in force?" "But there they are," said Bateman, "in the Prayer Book." "Yes, and there let them lie and never get out of it," retorted Campbell; "there they will stay till the end of the story." "Oh, for shame!" cried Bateman; "you should aid your mother in a difficulty, and not be like the priest and the Levite." "My mother does not wish to be aided," continued Campbell. "Oh, how you talk! What shall I do? What can be done?" cried poor Bateman. "Done! nothing," said Campbell; "is there no such thing as the desuetude of a law? Does not a law cease to be binding when it is not enforced? I appeal to Mr. Willis." Willis, thus addressed, answered that he was no moral theologian, but he had attended some schools, and he believed it was the Catholic rule that when a law had been promulgated, and was not observed by the majority, if the legislator knew the state of the case, and yet kept silence, he was considered _ipso facto_ to revoke it. "What!" said Bateman to Campbell, "do you appeal to the Romish Church?" "No," answered Campbell; "I appeal to the whole Catholic Church, of which the Church of Rome happens in this particular case to be the exponent. It is plain common sense, that, if a law is not enforced, at length it ceases to be binding. Else it would be quite a tyranny; we should not know where we were. The Church of Rome does but give expression to this common-sense view." "Well, then," said Bateman, "I will appeal to the Church of Rome too. Rome is part of the Catholic Church as well as we: since, then, the Romish Church has ever kept up fastings the ordinance is not abolished; the 'greater part' of the Catholic Church has always observed it." "But it has not," said Campbell; "it now dispenses with fasts, as you have heard." Willis interposed to ask a question. "Do you mean then," he said to Bateman, "that the Church of England and the Church of Rome make one Church?" "Most certainly," answered Bateman. "Is it possible?" said Willis; "in what sense of the word _one_?" "In every sense," answered Bateman, "but that of intercommunion." "That is, I suppose," said Willis, "they are one, except that they have no intercourse with each other." Bateman assented. Willis continued: "No intercourse; that is, no social dealings, no consulting or arranging, no ordering and obeying, no mutual support; in short, no visible union." Bateman still assented. "Well, that is my difficulty," said Willis; "I can't understand how two parts can make up one visible body if they are not visibly united; unity implies _union_." "I don't see that at all," said Bateman; "I don't see that at all. No, Willis, you must not expect I shall give that up to you; it is one of our points. There is only one visible Church, and therefore the English and Romish Churches are both parts of it." Campbell saw clearly that Bateman had got into a difficulty, and he came to the rescue in his own way. "We must distinguish," he said, "the state of the case more exactly. A kingdom may be divided, it may be distracted by parties, by dissensions, yet be still a kingdom. That, I conceive, is the real condition of the Church; in this way the Churches of England, Rome, and Greece are one." "I suppose you will grant," said Willis, "that in proportion as a rebellion is strong, so is the unity of the kingdom threatened; and if a rebellion is successful, or if the parties in a civil war manage to divide the power and territory between them, then forthwith, instead of one kingdom, we have two. Ten or fifteen years since, Belgium was part of the kingdom of the Netherlands: I suppose you would not call it part of that kingdom now? This seems the case of the Churches of Rome and England." "Still, a kingdom may be in a state of decay," replied Campbell; "consider the case of the Turkish Empire at this moment. The Union between its separate portions is so languid, that each separate Pasha may almost be termed a separate sovereign; still it is one kingdom." "The Church, then, at present," said Willis, "is a kingdom tending to dissolution?" "Certainly it is," answered Campbell. "And will ultimately fail?" asked Willis. "Certainly," said Campbell; "when the end comes, according to our Lord's saying, 'When the Son of man cometh, shall He find faith on the earth?' just as in the case of the chosen people, the sceptre failed from Judah when the Shiloh came." "Surely the Church has failed already _before_ the end," said Willis, "according to the view you take of failing. How _can_ any separation be more complete than exists at present between Rome, Greece, and England?" "They might excommunicate each other," said Campbell. "Then you are willing," said Willis, "to assign beforehand something definite, the occurrence of which will constitute a real separation." "Don't do so," said Reding to Campbell; "it is dangerous; don't commit yourself in a moral question; for then, if the thing specified did occur, it would be difficult to see our way." "No," said Willis; "you certainly _would_ be in a difficulty; but you would find your way out, I know. In that case you would choose some other _ultimatum_ as your test of schism. There would be," he added, speaking with some emotion, "'in the lowest depth a lower still.'" The concluding words were out of keeping with the tone of the conversation hitherto, and fairly excited Bateman, who, for some time, had been an impatient listener. "That's a dangerous line, Campbell," he said, "it is indeed; I can't go along with you. It will never do to say that the Church is failing; no, it never fails. It is always strong, and pure, and perfect, as the Prophets describe it. Look at its cathedrals, abbey-churches, and other sanctuaries, these fitly typify it." "My dear Bateman," answered Campbell, "I am as willing as you to maintain the fulfilment of the prophecies made to the Church, but we must allow the _fact_ that the branches of the Church are _divided_, while we maintain the _doctrine_, that the Church should be one." "I don't see that at all," answered Bateman; "no, we need not allow it. There's no such thing as Churches, there's but one Church everywhere, and it is _not_ divided. It is merely the outward forms, appearances, manifestations of the Church that are divided. The Church is one as much as ever it was." "That will never do," said Campbell; and he stood up before the fire in

grecian

How many times the word 'grecian' appears in the text?

Both existed before Christianity; both are of Pagan origin; both were afterwards consecrated to the service of the Church." "Pardon me," interrupted Bateman, "Gregorians were Jewish, not Pagan." "Be it so, for argument sake," said Campbell; "still, at least, they were not of Christian origin. Next, both the old music and the old architecture were inartificial and limited, as methods of exhibiting their respective arts. You can't have a large Grecian temple, you can't have a long Gregorian _Gloria_." "Not a long one!" said Bateman; "why there's poor Willis used to complain how tedious the old Gregorian compositions were abroad." "I don't explain myself," answered Campbell; "of course you may produce them to any length, but merely by addition, not by carrying on the melody. You can put two together, and then have one twice as long as either. But I speak of a musical piece, which must of course be the natural development of certain ideas, with one part depending on another. In like manner, you might make an Ionic temple twice as long or twice as wide as the Parthenon; but you would lose the beauty of proportion by doing so. This, then, is what I meant to say of the primitive architecture and the primitive music, that they soon come to their limit; they soon are exhausted, and can do nothing more. If you attempt more, it's like taxing a musical instrument beyond its powers." "You but try, Bateman," said Reding, "to make a bass play quadrilles, and you will see what is meant by taxing an instrument." "Well, I have heard Lindley play all sorts of quick tunes on his bass," said Bateman, "and most wonderful it is." "Wonderful is the right word," answered Reding; "it is very wonderful. You say, 'How _can_ he manage it?' and 'It's very wonderful for a bass;' but it is not pleasant in itself. In like manner, I have always felt a disgust when Mr. So-and-so comes forward to make his sweet flute bleat and bray like a hautbois; it's forcing the poor thing to do what it was never made for." "This is literally true as regards Gregorian music," said Campbell; "instruments did not exist in primitive times which could execute any other. But I am speaking under correction; Mr. Reding seems to know more about the subject than I do." "I have always understood, as you say," answered Charles, "modern music did not come into existence till after the powers of the violin became known. Corelli himself, who wrote not two hundred years ago, hardly ventures on the shift. The piano, again, I have heard, has almost given birth to Beethoven." "Modern music, then, could not be in ancient times, for want of modern instruments," said Campbell; "and, in like manner, Gothic architecture could not exist until vaulting was brought to perfection. Great mechanical inventions have taken place, both in architecture and in music, since the age of basilicas and Gregorians; and each science has gained by it." "It is curious enough," said Reding, "one thing I have been accustomed to say, quite falls in with this view of yours. When people who are not musicians have accused Handel and Beethoven of not being _simple_, I have always said, 'Is Gothic architecture _simple_?' A cathedral expresses one idea, but it is indefinitely varied and elaborated in its parts; so is a symphony or quartett of Beethoven." "Certainly, Bateman, you must tolerate Pagan architecture, or you must in consistency exclude Pagan or Jewish Gregorians," said Campbell; "you must tolerate figured music, or reprobate tracery windows." "And which are you for," asked Bateman, "Gothic with Handel, or Roman with Gregorians?" "For both in their place," answered Campbell. "I exceedingly prefer Gothic architecture to classical. I think it the one true child and development of Christianity; but I won't, for that reason, discard the Pagan style which has been sanctified by eighteen centuries, by the exclusive love of many Christian countries, and by the sanction of a host of saints. I am for toleration. Give Gothic an ascendancy; be respectful towards classical." The conversation slackened. "Much as I like modern music," said Charles, "I can't quite go the length to which your doctrine would lead me. I cannot, indeed, help liking Mozart; but surely his music is not religious." "I have not been speaking in defence of particular composers," said Campbell; "figured music may be right, yet Mozart or Beethoven inadmissible. In like manner, you don't suppose, because I tolerate Roman architecture, that therefore I like naked cupids to stand for cherubs, and sprawling women for the cardinal virtues." He paused. "Besides," he added, "as you were saying yourself just now, we must consult the genius of our country and the religious associations of our people." "Well," said Bateman, "I think the perfection of sacred music is Gregorian set to harmonies; there you have the glorious old chants, and just a little modern richness." "And I think it just the worst of all," answered Campbell; "it is a mixture of two things, each good in itself, and incongruous together. It's a mixture of the first and second courses at table. It's like the architecture of the fa ade at Milan, half Gothic, half Grecian." "It's what is always used, I believe," said Charles. "Oh yes, we must not go against the age," said Campbell; "it would be absurd to do so. I only spoke of what was right and wrong on abstract principles; and, to tell the truth, I can't help liking the mixture myself, though I can't defend it." Bateman rang for tea; his friends wished to return home soon; it was the month of January, and no season for after-dinner strolls. "Well," he said, "Campbell, you are more lenient to the age than to me; you yield to the age when it sets a figured bass to a Gregorian tone; but you laugh at me for setting a coat upon a cassock." "It's no honour to be the author of a mongrel type," said Campbell. "A mongrel type?" said Bateman; "rather it is a transition state." "What are you passing to?" asked Charles. "Talking of transitions," said Campbell abruptly, "do you know that your man Willis--I don't know his college, he turned Romanist--is living in my parish, and I have hopes he is making a transition back again." "Have you seen him?" said Charles. "No; I have called, but was unfortunate; he was out. He still goes to mass, I find." "Why, where does he find a chapel?" asked Bateman. "At Seaton. A good seven miles from you," said Charles. "Yes," answered Campbell; "and he walks to and fro every Sunday." "That is not like a transition, except a physical one," observed Reding. "A person must go somewhere," answered Campbell; "I suppose he went to church up to the week he joined the Romanists." "Very awful, these defections," said Bateman; "but very satisfactory, a melancholy satisfaction," with a look at Charles, "that the victims of delusions should be at length recovered." "Yes," said Campbell; "very sad indeed. I am afraid we must expect a number more." "Well, I don't know how to think it," said Charles; "the hold our Church has on the mind is so powerful; it is such a wrench to leave it, I cannot fancy any party-tie standing against it. Humanly speaking, there is far, far more to keep them fast than to carry them away." "Yes, if they moved as a party," said Campbell; "but that is not the case. They don't move simply because others move, but, poor fellows, because they can't help it.--Bateman, will you let my chaise be brought round?--How _can_ they help it?" continued he, standing up over the fire; "their Catholic principles lead them on, and there's nothing to drive them back." "Why should not their love for their own Church?" asked Bateman; "it is deplorable, unpardonable." "They will keep going one after another, as they ripen," said Campbell. "Did you hear the report--I did not think much of it myself," said Reding,--"that Smith was moving?" "Not impossible," answered Campbell thoughtfully. "Impossible, quite impossible," cried Bateman; "such a triumph to the enemy; I'll not believe it till I see it." "_Not_ impossible," repeated Campbell, as he buttoned and fitted his great-coat about him; "he has shifted his ground." His carriage was announced. "Mr. Reding, I believe I can take you part of your way, if you will accept of a seat in my pony-chaise." Charles accepted the offer; and Bateman was soon deserted by his two guests. CHAPTER XVII. Campbell put Charles down about half-way between Melford and his home. It was bright moonlight; and, after thanking his new friend for the lift, he bounded over the stile at the side of the road, and was at once buried in the shade of the copse along which his path lay. Soon he came in sight of a tall wooden Cross, which, in better days, had been a religious emblem, but had served in latter times to mark the boundary between two contiguous parishes. The moon was behind him, and the sacred symbol rose awfully in the pale sky, overhanging a pool, which was still venerated in the neighbourhood for its reported miraculous virtue. Charles, to his surprise, saw distinctly a man kneeling on the little mound out of which the Cross grew; nay, heard him, for his shoulders were bare, and he was using the discipline upon them, while he repeated what appeared to be some form of devotion. Charles stopped, unwilling to interrupt, yet not knowing how to pass; but the stranger had caught the sound of feet, and in a few seconds vanished from his view. He was overcome with a sudden emotion, which he could not control. "O happy times," he cried, "when faith was one! O blessed penitent, whoever you are, who know what to believe, and how to gain pardon, and can begin where others end! Here am I, in my twenty-third year, uncertain about everything, because I have nothing to trust." He drew near to the Cross, took off his hat, knelt down and kissed the wood, and prayed awhile that whatever might be the consequences, whatever the trial, whatever the loss, he might have grace to follow whithersoever God should call him. He then rose and turned to the cold well; he took some water in his palm and drank it. He felt as if he could have prayed to the Saint who owned that pool--St. Thomas the Martyr, he believed--to plead for him, and to aid him in his search after the true faith; but something whispered, "It is wrong;" and he checked the wish. So, regaining his hat, he passed away, and pursued his homeward path at a brisk pace. The family had retired for the night, and he went up without delay to his bedroom. Passing through his study, he found a letter lying on his table, without post-mark, which had come for him in his absence. He broke the seal; it was an anonymous paper, and began as follows:-- "_Questions for one whom it concerns._ 1. What is meant by the One Church of which the Creed speaks?" "This is too much for to-night," thought Charles, "it is late already;" and he folded it up again and threw it on his dressing-table. "Some well-meaning person, I dare say, who thinks he knows me." He wound up his watch, gave a yawn, and put on his slippers. "Who can there be in this neighbourhood to write it?" He opened it again. "It's certainly a Catholic's writing," he said. His mind glanced to the person whom he had seen under the Cross; perhaps it glanced further. He sat down and began reading _in extenso:_-- "_Questions for one whom it concerns._ 1. What is meant by the One Church of which the Creed speaks? 2. Is it a generalization or a thing? 3. Does it belong to past history or to the present time? 4. Does not Scripture speak of it as a kingdom? 5. And a kingdom which was to last to the end? 6. What is a kingdom? and what is meant when Scripture calls the Church a kingdom? 7. Is it a visible kingdom, or an invisible? 8. Can a kingdom have two governments, and these acting in contrary directions? 9. Is identity of institutions, opinions, or race, sufficient to make two nations one kingdom? 10. Is the Episcopal form, the hierarchy, or the Apostles' Creed, sufficient to make the Churches of Rome and of England one? 11. Where there are parts, does not unity require union, and a visible unity require a visible union? 12. How can two religions be the same which have utterly distinct worships and ideas of worship? 13. Can two religions be one, if the most sacred and peculiar act of worship in the one is called 'a blasphemous fable and dangerous deceit' in the other? 14. Has not the One Church of Christ one faith? 15. Can a Church be Christ's which has not one faith? 16. Which is contradictory to itself in its documents? 17. And in different centuries? 18. And in its documents contrasted with its divines? 19. And in its divines and members one with another? 20. What is _the_ faith of the English Church? 21. How many Councils does the English Church admit? 22. Does the English Church consider the present Nestorian and Jacobite Churches under an anathema, or part of the visible Church? 23. Is it necessary, or possible, to believe any one but a professed messenger from God? 24. Is the English Church, does she claim to be, a messenger from God? 25. Does she impart the truth, or bid us seek it? 26. If she leaves us to seek it, do members of the English Church seek it with that earnestness which Scripture enjoins? 27. Is a person safe who lives without faith, even though he seems to have hope and charity?" Charles got very sleepy before he reached the "twenty-seventhly." "It won't do," he said; "I am only losing my time. They seem well put; but they must stand over." He put the paper from him, said his prayers, and was soon fast asleep. Next morning, on waking, the subject of the letter came into his mind, and he lay for some time thinking over it. "Certainly," he said, "I do wish very much to be settled either in the English Church or somewhere else. I wish I knew _what_ Christianity was; I am ready to be at pains to seek it, and would accept it eagerly and thankfully, if found. But it's a work of time; all the paper-arguments in the world are unequal to giving one a view in a moment. There must be a process; they may shorten it, as medicine shortens physical processes, but they can't supersede its necessity. I recollect how all my religious doubts and theories went to flight on my dear father's death. They weren't part of me, and could not sustain rough weather. Conviction is the eyesight of the mind, not a conclusion from premises; God works it, and His works are slow. At least so it is with me. I can't believe on a sudden; if I attempt it, I shall be using words for things, and be sure to repent it. Or if not, I shall go right merely by hazard. I must move in what seems God's way; I can but put myself on the road; a higher power must overtake me, and carry me forward. At present I have a direct duty upon me, which my dear father left me, to take a good class. This is the path of duty. I won't put off the inquiry, but I'll let it proceed in that path. God can bless my reading to my spiritual illumination, as well as anything else. Saul sought his father's asses, and found a kingdom. All in good time. When I have taken my degree the subject will properly come on me." He sighed. "My degree! those odious Articles! rather, when I have passed my examination. Well, it's no good lying here;" and he jumped up, and signed himself with the Cross. His eye caught the letter. "It's well written--better than Willis could write; it's not Willis's. There's something about that Willis I don't understand. I wonder how he and his mother get on together. I don't think he _has_ any sisters." CHAPTER XVIII. Campbell had been much pleased with Reding, and his interest in him was not lessened by a hint from Bateman that his allegiance to the English Church was in danger. He called on him in no long time, asked him to dinner, and, when Charles had returned his invitation, and Campbell had accepted it, the beginning of an acquaintance was formed between the rectory at Sutton and the family at Boughton which grew into an intimacy as time went on. Campbell was a gentleman, a travelled man, of clear head and ardent mind, candid, well-read in English divinity, a devoted Anglican, and the incumbent of a living so well endowed as almost to be a dignity. Mary was pleased at the introduction, as bringing her brother under the influence of an intellect which he could not make light of; and, as Campbell had a carriage, it was natural that he should wish to save Charles the loss of a day's reading and the trouble of a muddy walk to the rectory and back by coming over himself to Boughton. Accordingly it so happened that he saw Charles twice at his mother's for once that he saw him at Sutton. But whatever came of these visits, nothing occurred which particularly bears upon the line of our narrative; so let them pass. One day Charles called upon Bateman, and, on entering the room, was surprised to see him and Campbell at luncheon, and in conversation with a third person. There was a moment's surprise and hesitation on seeing him before they rose and welcomed him as usual. When he looked at the stranger he felt a slight awkwardness himself, which he could not control. It was Willis; and apparently submitted to the process of reconversion. Charles was evidently _de trop_, but there was no help for it; so he shook hands with Willis, and accepted the pressing call of Bateman to seat himself at table, and to share their bread and cheese. Charles sat down opposite Willis, and for a while could not keep his eyes from him. At first he had some difficulty in believing he had before him the impetuous youth he had known two years and a half before. He had always been silent in general company; but in that he was changed, as in everything else. Not that he talked more than was natural, but he talked freely and easily. The great change, however, was in his appearance and manner. He had lost his bloom and youthfulness; his expression was sweeter indeed than before, and very placid, but there was a thin line down his face on each side of his mouth; his cheeks were wanting in fulness, and he had the air of a man of thirty. When he entered into conversation, and became animated, his former self returned. "I suppose we may all admire this cream at this season," said Charles, as he helped himself, "for we are none of us Devonshire men." "It's not peculiar to Devonshire," answered Campbell; "that is, they have it abroad. At Rome there is a sort of cream or cheese very like it, and very common." "Will butter and cream keep in so warm a climate?" asked Charles; "I fancied oil was the substitute." "Rome is not so warm as you fancy," said Willis, "except during the summer." "Oil? so it is," said Campbell; "thus we read in Scripture of the multiplication of the oil and meal, which seems to answer to bread and butter. The oil in Rome is excellent, so clear and pale; you can eat it as milk." "The taste, I suppose, is peculiar," observed Charles. "Just at first," answered Campbell; "but one soon gets used to it. All such substances, milk, butter, cheese, oil, have a particular taste at first, which use alone gets over. The rich Guernsey butter is too much for strangers, while Russians relish whale-oil. Most of our tastes are in a measure artificial." "It is certainly so with vegetables," said Willis; "when I was a boy I could not eat beans, spinach, asparagus, parsnips, and I think some others." "Therefore your hermit's fare is not only the most natural, but the only naturally palatable, I suppose,--a crust of bread and a draught from the stream," replied Campbell. "Or the Clerk of Copmanhurst's dry peas," said Charles. "The macaroni and grapes of the Neapolitans are as natural and more palatable," said Willis. "Rather they are a luxury," said Bateman. "No," answered Campbell, "not a luxury; a luxury is in its very idea a something _recherch _. Thus Horace speaks of the '_peregrina lagois_.' What nature yields _sponte su _ around you, however delicious, is no luxury. Wild ducks are no luxury in your old neighbourhood, amid your Oxford fens, Bateman; nor grapes at Naples." "Then the old women here are luxurious over their sixpenn'rth of tea," said Bateman; "for it comes from China." Campbell was posed for an instant. Somehow neither he nor Bateman were quite at their ease, whether with themselves or with each other; it might be Charles's sudden intrusion, or something which had happened before it. Campbell answered at length that steamers and railroads were making strange changes; that time and place were vanishing, and price would soon be the only measure of luxury. "This seems the measure also of _grasso_ and _magro_ food in Italy," said Willis; "for I think there are dispensations for butcher's meat in Lent, in consequence of the dearness of bread and oil." "This seems to show that the age for abstinences and fastings is past," observed Campbell; "for it's absurd to keep Lent on beef and mutton." "Oh, Campbell, what are you saying?" cried Bateman; "past! are we bound by their lax ways in Italy?" "I do certainly think," answered Campbell, "that fasting is unsuitable to this age, in England as well as in Rome." "Take care, my fine fellows," thought Charles; "keep your ranks, or you won't secure your prisoner." "What, not fast on Friday!" cried Bateman; "we always did so most rigidly at Oxford." "It does you credit," answered Campbell; "but I am of Cambridge." "But what do you say to Rubrics and the Calendar?" insisted Bateman. "They are not binding," answered Campbell. "They _are_, binding," said Bateman. A pause, as between the rounds of a boxing-match. Reding interposed: "Bateman, cut me, please, a bit of your capital bread--home-made, I suppose?" "A thousand pardons!" said Bateman:--"not binding?--Pass it to him, Willis, if you please. Yes, it comes from a farmer, next door. I'm glad you like it.--I repeat, they _are_ binding, Campbell." "An odd sort of binding, when they have never bound," answered Campbell; "they have existed two or three hundred years; when were they ever put in force?" "But there they are," said Bateman, "in the Prayer Book." "Yes, and there let them lie and never get out of it," retorted Campbell; "there they will stay till the end of the story." "Oh, for shame!" cried Bateman; "you should aid your mother in a difficulty, and not be like the priest and the Levite." "My mother does not wish to be aided," continued Campbell. "Oh, how you talk! What shall I do? What can be done?" cried poor Bateman. "Done! nothing," said Campbell; "is there no such thing as the desuetude of a law? Does not a law cease to be binding when it is not enforced? I appeal to Mr. Willis." Willis, thus addressed, answered that he was no moral theologian, but he had attended some schools, and he believed it was the Catholic rule that when a law had been promulgated, and was not observed by the majority, if the legislator knew the state of the case, and yet kept silence, he was considered _ipso facto_ to revoke it. "What!" said Bateman to Campbell, "do you appeal to the Romish Church?" "No," answered Campbell; "I appeal to the whole Catholic Church, of which the Church of Rome happens in this particular case to be the exponent. It is plain common sense, that, if a law is not enforced, at length it ceases to be binding. Else it would be quite a tyranny; we should not know where we were. The Church of Rome does but give expression to this common-sense view." "Well, then," said Bateman, "I will appeal to the Church of Rome too. Rome is part of the Catholic Church as well as we: since, then, the Romish Church has ever kept up fastings the ordinance is not abolished; the 'greater part' of the Catholic Church has always observed it." "But it has not," said Campbell; "it now dispenses with fasts, as you have heard." Willis interposed to ask a question. "Do you mean then," he said to Bateman, "that the Church of England and the Church of Rome make one Church?" "Most certainly," answered Bateman. "Is it possible?" said Willis; "in what sense of the word _one_?" "In every sense," answered Bateman, "but that of intercommunion." "That is, I suppose," said Willis, "they are one, except that they have no intercourse with each other." Bateman assented. Willis continued: "No intercourse; that is, no social dealings, no consulting or arranging, no ordering and obeying, no mutual support; in short, no visible union." Bateman still assented. "Well, that is my difficulty," said Willis; "I can't understand how two parts can make up one visible body if they are not visibly united; unity implies _union_." "I don't see that at all," said Bateman; "I don't see that at all. No, Willis, you must not expect I shall give that up to you; it is one of our points. There is only one visible Church, and therefore the English and Romish Churches are both parts of it." Campbell saw clearly that Bateman had got into a difficulty, and he came to the rescue in his own way. "We must distinguish," he said, "the state of the case more exactly. A kingdom may be divided, it may be distracted by parties, by dissensions, yet be still a kingdom. That, I conceive, is the real condition of the Church; in this way the Churches of England, Rome, and Greece are one." "I suppose you will grant," said Willis, "that in proportion as a rebellion is strong, so is the unity of the kingdom threatened; and if a rebellion is successful, or if the parties in a civil war manage to divide the power and territory between them, then forthwith, instead of one kingdom, we have two. Ten or fifteen years since, Belgium was part of the kingdom of the Netherlands: I suppose you would not call it part of that kingdom now? This seems the case of the Churches of Rome and England." "Still, a kingdom may be in a state of decay," replied Campbell; "consider the case of the Turkish Empire at this moment. The Union between its separate portions is so languid, that each separate Pasha may almost be termed a separate sovereign; still it is one kingdom." "The Church, then, at present," said Willis, "is a kingdom tending to dissolution?" "Certainly it is," answered Campbell. "And will ultimately fail?" asked Willis. "Certainly," said Campbell; "when the end comes, according to our Lord's saying, 'When the Son of man cometh, shall He find faith on the earth?' just as in the case of the chosen people, the sceptre failed from Judah when the Shiloh came." "Surely the Church has failed already _before_ the end," said Willis, "according to the view you take of failing. How _can_ any separation be more complete than exists at present between Rome, Greece, and England?" "They might excommunicate each other," said Campbell. "Then you are willing," said Willis, "to assign beforehand something definite, the occurrence of which will constitute a real separation." "Don't do so," said Reding to Campbell; "it is dangerous; don't commit yourself in a moral question; for then, if the thing specified did occur, it would be difficult to see our way." "No," said Willis; "you certainly _would_ be in a difficulty; but you would find your way out, I know. In that case you would choose some other _ultimatum_ as your test of schism. There would be," he added, speaking with some emotion, "'in the lowest depth a lower still.'" The concluding words were out of keeping with the tone of the conversation hitherto, and fairly excited Bateman, who, for some time, had been an impatient listener. "That's a dangerous line, Campbell," he said, "it is indeed; I can't go along with you. It will never do to say that the Church is failing; no, it never fails. It is always strong, and pure, and perfect, as the Prophets describe it. Look at its cathedrals, abbey-churches, and other sanctuaries, these fitly typify it." "My dear Bateman," answered Campbell, "I am as willing as you to maintain the fulfilment of the prophecies made to the Church, but we must allow the _fact_ that the branches of the Church are _divided_, while we maintain the _doctrine_, that the Church should be one." "I don't see that at all," answered Bateman; "no, we need not allow it. There's no such thing as Churches, there's but one Church everywhere, and it is _not_ divided. It is merely the outward forms, appearances, manifestations of the Church that are divided. The Church is one as much as ever it was." "That will never do," said Campbell; and he stood up before the fire in

transition

How many times the word 'transition' appears in the text?

Both existed before Christianity; both are of Pagan origin; both were afterwards consecrated to the service of the Church." "Pardon me," interrupted Bateman, "Gregorians were Jewish, not Pagan." "Be it so, for argument sake," said Campbell; "still, at least, they were not of Christian origin. Next, both the old music and the old architecture were inartificial and limited, as methods of exhibiting their respective arts. You can't have a large Grecian temple, you can't have a long Gregorian _Gloria_." "Not a long one!" said Bateman; "why there's poor Willis used to complain how tedious the old Gregorian compositions were abroad." "I don't explain myself," answered Campbell; "of course you may produce them to any length, but merely by addition, not by carrying on the melody. You can put two together, and then have one twice as long as either. But I speak of a musical piece, which must of course be the natural development of certain ideas, with one part depending on another. In like manner, you might make an Ionic temple twice as long or twice as wide as the Parthenon; but you would lose the beauty of proportion by doing so. This, then, is what I meant to say of the primitive architecture and the primitive music, that they soon come to their limit; they soon are exhausted, and can do nothing more. If you attempt more, it's like taxing a musical instrument beyond its powers." "You but try, Bateman," said Reding, "to make a bass play quadrilles, and you will see what is meant by taxing an instrument." "Well, I have heard Lindley play all sorts of quick tunes on his bass," said Bateman, "and most wonderful it is." "Wonderful is the right word," answered Reding; "it is very wonderful. You say, 'How _can_ he manage it?' and 'It's very wonderful for a bass;' but it is not pleasant in itself. In like manner, I have always felt a disgust when Mr. So-and-so comes forward to make his sweet flute bleat and bray like a hautbois; it's forcing the poor thing to do what it was never made for." "This is literally true as regards Gregorian music," said Campbell; "instruments did not exist in primitive times which could execute any other. But I am speaking under correction; Mr. Reding seems to know more about the subject than I do." "I have always understood, as you say," answered Charles, "modern music did not come into existence till after the powers of the violin became known. Corelli himself, who wrote not two hundred years ago, hardly ventures on the shift. The piano, again, I have heard, has almost given birth to Beethoven." "Modern music, then, could not be in ancient times, for want of modern instruments," said Campbell; "and, in like manner, Gothic architecture could not exist until vaulting was brought to perfection. Great mechanical inventions have taken place, both in architecture and in music, since the age of basilicas and Gregorians; and each science has gained by it." "It is curious enough," said Reding, "one thing I have been accustomed to say, quite falls in with this view of yours. When people who are not musicians have accused Handel and Beethoven of not being _simple_, I have always said, 'Is Gothic architecture _simple_?' A cathedral expresses one idea, but it is indefinitely varied and elaborated in its parts; so is a symphony or quartett of Beethoven." "Certainly, Bateman, you must tolerate Pagan architecture, or you must in consistency exclude Pagan or Jewish Gregorians," said Campbell; "you must tolerate figured music, or reprobate tracery windows." "And which are you for," asked Bateman, "Gothic with Handel, or Roman with Gregorians?" "For both in their place," answered Campbell. "I exceedingly prefer Gothic architecture to classical. I think it the one true child and development of Christianity; but I won't, for that reason, discard the Pagan style which has been sanctified by eighteen centuries, by the exclusive love of many Christian countries, and by the sanction of a host of saints. I am for toleration. Give Gothic an ascendancy; be respectful towards classical." The conversation slackened. "Much as I like modern music," said Charles, "I can't quite go the length to which your doctrine would lead me. I cannot, indeed, help liking Mozart; but surely his music is not religious." "I have not been speaking in defence of particular composers," said Campbell; "figured music may be right, yet Mozart or Beethoven inadmissible. In like manner, you don't suppose, because I tolerate Roman architecture, that therefore I like naked cupids to stand for cherubs, and sprawling women for the cardinal virtues." He paused. "Besides," he added, "as you were saying yourself just now, we must consult the genius of our country and the religious associations of our people." "Well," said Bateman, "I think the perfection of sacred music is Gregorian set to harmonies; there you have the glorious old chants, and just a little modern richness." "And I think it just the worst of all," answered Campbell; "it is a mixture of two things, each good in itself, and incongruous together. It's a mixture of the first and second courses at table. It's like the architecture of the fa ade at Milan, half Gothic, half Grecian." "It's what is always used, I believe," said Charles. "Oh yes, we must not go against the age," said Campbell; "it would be absurd to do so. I only spoke of what was right and wrong on abstract principles; and, to tell the truth, I can't help liking the mixture myself, though I can't defend it." Bateman rang for tea; his friends wished to return home soon; it was the month of January, and no season for after-dinner strolls. "Well," he said, "Campbell, you are more lenient to the age than to me; you yield to the age when it sets a figured bass to a Gregorian tone; but you laugh at me for setting a coat upon a cassock." "It's no honour to be the author of a mongrel type," said Campbell. "A mongrel type?" said Bateman; "rather it is a transition state." "What are you passing to?" asked Charles. "Talking of transitions," said Campbell abruptly, "do you know that your man Willis--I don't know his college, he turned Romanist--is living in my parish, and I have hopes he is making a transition back again." "Have you seen him?" said Charles. "No; I have called, but was unfortunate; he was out. He still goes to mass, I find." "Why, where does he find a chapel?" asked Bateman. "At Seaton. A good seven miles from you," said Charles. "Yes," answered Campbell; "and he walks to and fro every Sunday." "That is not like a transition, except a physical one," observed Reding. "A person must go somewhere," answered Campbell; "I suppose he went to church up to the week he joined the Romanists." "Very awful, these defections," said Bateman; "but very satisfactory, a melancholy satisfaction," with a look at Charles, "that the victims of delusions should be at length recovered." "Yes," said Campbell; "very sad indeed. I am afraid we must expect a number more." "Well, I don't know how to think it," said Charles; "the hold our Church has on the mind is so powerful; it is such a wrench to leave it, I cannot fancy any party-tie standing against it. Humanly speaking, there is far, far more to keep them fast than to carry them away." "Yes, if they moved as a party," said Campbell; "but that is not the case. They don't move simply because others move, but, poor fellows, because they can't help it.--Bateman, will you let my chaise be brought round?--How _can_ they help it?" continued he, standing up over the fire; "their Catholic principles lead them on, and there's nothing to drive them back." "Why should not their love for their own Church?" asked Bateman; "it is deplorable, unpardonable." "They will keep going one after another, as they ripen," said Campbell. "Did you hear the report--I did not think much of it myself," said Reding,--"that Smith was moving?" "Not impossible," answered Campbell thoughtfully. "Impossible, quite impossible," cried Bateman; "such a triumph to the enemy; I'll not believe it till I see it." "_Not_ impossible," repeated Campbell, as he buttoned and fitted his great-coat about him; "he has shifted his ground." His carriage was announced. "Mr. Reding, I believe I can take you part of your way, if you will accept of a seat in my pony-chaise." Charles accepted the offer; and Bateman was soon deserted by his two guests. CHAPTER XVII. Campbell put Charles down about half-way between Melford and his home. It was bright moonlight; and, after thanking his new friend for the lift, he bounded over the stile at the side of the road, and was at once buried in the shade of the copse along which his path lay. Soon he came in sight of a tall wooden Cross, which, in better days, had been a religious emblem, but had served in latter times to mark the boundary between two contiguous parishes. The moon was behind him, and the sacred symbol rose awfully in the pale sky, overhanging a pool, which was still venerated in the neighbourhood for its reported miraculous virtue. Charles, to his surprise, saw distinctly a man kneeling on the little mound out of which the Cross grew; nay, heard him, for his shoulders were bare, and he was using the discipline upon them, while he repeated what appeared to be some form of devotion. Charles stopped, unwilling to interrupt, yet not knowing how to pass; but the stranger had caught the sound of feet, and in a few seconds vanished from his view. He was overcome with a sudden emotion, which he could not control. "O happy times," he cried, "when faith was one! O blessed penitent, whoever you are, who know what to believe, and how to gain pardon, and can begin where others end! Here am I, in my twenty-third year, uncertain about everything, because I have nothing to trust." He drew near to the Cross, took off his hat, knelt down and kissed the wood, and prayed awhile that whatever might be the consequences, whatever the trial, whatever the loss, he might have grace to follow whithersoever God should call him. He then rose and turned to the cold well; he took some water in his palm and drank it. He felt as if he could have prayed to the Saint who owned that pool--St. Thomas the Martyr, he believed--to plead for him, and to aid him in his search after the true faith; but something whispered, "It is wrong;" and he checked the wish. So, regaining his hat, he passed away, and pursued his homeward path at a brisk pace. The family had retired for the night, and he went up without delay to his bedroom. Passing through his study, he found a letter lying on his table, without post-mark, which had come for him in his absence. He broke the seal; it was an anonymous paper, and began as follows:-- "_Questions for one whom it concerns._ 1. What is meant by the One Church of which the Creed speaks?" "This is too much for to-night," thought Charles, "it is late already;" and he folded it up again and threw it on his dressing-table. "Some well-meaning person, I dare say, who thinks he knows me." He wound up his watch, gave a yawn, and put on his slippers. "Who can there be in this neighbourhood to write it?" He opened it again. "It's certainly a Catholic's writing," he said. His mind glanced to the person whom he had seen under the Cross; perhaps it glanced further. He sat down and began reading _in extenso:_-- "_Questions for one whom it concerns._ 1. What is meant by the One Church of which the Creed speaks? 2. Is it a generalization or a thing? 3. Does it belong to past history or to the present time? 4. Does not Scripture speak of it as a kingdom? 5. And a kingdom which was to last to the end? 6. What is a kingdom? and what is meant when Scripture calls the Church a kingdom? 7. Is it a visible kingdom, or an invisible? 8. Can a kingdom have two governments, and these acting in contrary directions? 9. Is identity of institutions, opinions, or race, sufficient to make two nations one kingdom? 10. Is the Episcopal form, the hierarchy, or the Apostles' Creed, sufficient to make the Churches of Rome and of England one? 11. Where there are parts, does not unity require union, and a visible unity require a visible union? 12. How can two religions be the same which have utterly distinct worships and ideas of worship? 13. Can two religions be one, if the most sacred and peculiar act of worship in the one is called 'a blasphemous fable and dangerous deceit' in the other? 14. Has not the One Church of Christ one faith? 15. Can a Church be Christ's which has not one faith? 16. Which is contradictory to itself in its documents? 17. And in different centuries? 18. And in its documents contrasted with its divines? 19. And in its divines and members one with another? 20. What is _the_ faith of the English Church? 21. How many Councils does the English Church admit? 22. Does the English Church consider the present Nestorian and Jacobite Churches under an anathema, or part of the visible Church? 23. Is it necessary, or possible, to believe any one but a professed messenger from God? 24. Is the English Church, does she claim to be, a messenger from God? 25. Does she impart the truth, or bid us seek it? 26. If she leaves us to seek it, do members of the English Church seek it with that earnestness which Scripture enjoins? 27. Is a person safe who lives without faith, even though he seems to have hope and charity?" Charles got very sleepy before he reached the "twenty-seventhly." "It won't do," he said; "I am only losing my time. They seem well put; but they must stand over." He put the paper from him, said his prayers, and was soon fast asleep. Next morning, on waking, the subject of the letter came into his mind, and he lay for some time thinking over it. "Certainly," he said, "I do wish very much to be settled either in the English Church or somewhere else. I wish I knew _what_ Christianity was; I am ready to be at pains to seek it, and would accept it eagerly and thankfully, if found. But it's a work of time; all the paper-arguments in the world are unequal to giving one a view in a moment. There must be a process; they may shorten it, as medicine shortens physical processes, but they can't supersede its necessity. I recollect how all my religious doubts and theories went to flight on my dear father's death. They weren't part of me, and could not sustain rough weather. Conviction is the eyesight of the mind, not a conclusion from premises; God works it, and His works are slow. At least so it is with me. I can't believe on a sudden; if I attempt it, I shall be using words for things, and be sure to repent it. Or if not, I shall go right merely by hazard. I must move in what seems God's way; I can but put myself on the road; a higher power must overtake me, and carry me forward. At present I have a direct duty upon me, which my dear father left me, to take a good class. This is the path of duty. I won't put off the inquiry, but I'll let it proceed in that path. God can bless my reading to my spiritual illumination, as well as anything else. Saul sought his father's asses, and found a kingdom. All in good time. When I have taken my degree the subject will properly come on me." He sighed. "My degree! those odious Articles! rather, when I have passed my examination. Well, it's no good lying here;" and he jumped up, and signed himself with the Cross. His eye caught the letter. "It's well written--better than Willis could write; it's not Willis's. There's something about that Willis I don't understand. I wonder how he and his mother get on together. I don't think he _has_ any sisters." CHAPTER XVIII. Campbell had been much pleased with Reding, and his interest in him was not lessened by a hint from Bateman that his allegiance to the English Church was in danger. He called on him in no long time, asked him to dinner, and, when Charles had returned his invitation, and Campbell had accepted it, the beginning of an acquaintance was formed between the rectory at Sutton and the family at Boughton which grew into an intimacy as time went on. Campbell was a gentleman, a travelled man, of clear head and ardent mind, candid, well-read in English divinity, a devoted Anglican, and the incumbent of a living so well endowed as almost to be a dignity. Mary was pleased at the introduction, as bringing her brother under the influence of an intellect which he could not make light of; and, as Campbell had a carriage, it was natural that he should wish to save Charles the loss of a day's reading and the trouble of a muddy walk to the rectory and back by coming over himself to Boughton. Accordingly it so happened that he saw Charles twice at his mother's for once that he saw him at Sutton. But whatever came of these visits, nothing occurred which particularly bears upon the line of our narrative; so let them pass. One day Charles called upon Bateman, and, on entering the room, was surprised to see him and Campbell at luncheon, and in conversation with a third person. There was a moment's surprise and hesitation on seeing him before they rose and welcomed him as usual. When he looked at the stranger he felt a slight awkwardness himself, which he could not control. It was Willis; and apparently submitted to the process of reconversion. Charles was evidently _de trop_, but there was no help for it; so he shook hands with Willis, and accepted the pressing call of Bateman to seat himself at table, and to share their bread and cheese. Charles sat down opposite Willis, and for a while could not keep his eyes from him. At first he had some difficulty in believing he had before him the impetuous youth he had known two years and a half before. He had always been silent in general company; but in that he was changed, as in everything else. Not that he talked more than was natural, but he talked freely and easily. The great change, however, was in his appearance and manner. He had lost his bloom and youthfulness; his expression was sweeter indeed than before, and very placid, but there was a thin line down his face on each side of his mouth; his cheeks were wanting in fulness, and he had the air of a man of thirty. When he entered into conversation, and became animated, his former self returned. "I suppose we may all admire this cream at this season," said Charles, as he helped himself, "for we are none of us Devonshire men." "It's not peculiar to Devonshire," answered Campbell; "that is, they have it abroad. At Rome there is a sort of cream or cheese very like it, and very common." "Will butter and cream keep in so warm a climate?" asked Charles; "I fancied oil was the substitute." "Rome is not so warm as you fancy," said Willis, "except during the summer." "Oil? so it is," said Campbell; "thus we read in Scripture of the multiplication of the oil and meal, which seems to answer to bread and butter. The oil in Rome is excellent, so clear and pale; you can eat it as milk." "The taste, I suppose, is peculiar," observed Charles. "Just at first," answered Campbell; "but one soon gets used to it. All such substances, milk, butter, cheese, oil, have a particular taste at first, which use alone gets over. The rich Guernsey butter is too much for strangers, while Russians relish whale-oil. Most of our tastes are in a measure artificial." "It is certainly so with vegetables," said Willis; "when I was a boy I could not eat beans, spinach, asparagus, parsnips, and I think some others." "Therefore your hermit's fare is not only the most natural, but the only naturally palatable, I suppose,--a crust of bread and a draught from the stream," replied Campbell. "Or the Clerk of Copmanhurst's dry peas," said Charles. "The macaroni and grapes of the Neapolitans are as natural and more palatable," said Willis. "Rather they are a luxury," said Bateman. "No," answered Campbell, "not a luxury; a luxury is in its very idea a something _recherch _. Thus Horace speaks of the '_peregrina lagois_.' What nature yields _sponte su _ around you, however delicious, is no luxury. Wild ducks are no luxury in your old neighbourhood, amid your Oxford fens, Bateman; nor grapes at Naples." "Then the old women here are luxurious over their sixpenn'rth of tea," said Bateman; "for it comes from China." Campbell was posed for an instant. Somehow neither he nor Bateman were quite at their ease, whether with themselves or with each other; it might be Charles's sudden intrusion, or something which had happened before it. Campbell answered at length that steamers and railroads were making strange changes; that time and place were vanishing, and price would soon be the only measure of luxury. "This seems the measure also of _grasso_ and _magro_ food in Italy," said Willis; "for I think there are dispensations for butcher's meat in Lent, in consequence of the dearness of bread and oil." "This seems to show that the age for abstinences and fastings is past," observed Campbell; "for it's absurd to keep Lent on beef and mutton." "Oh, Campbell, what are you saying?" cried Bateman; "past! are we bound by their lax ways in Italy?" "I do certainly think," answered Campbell, "that fasting is unsuitable to this age, in England as well as in Rome." "Take care, my fine fellows," thought Charles; "keep your ranks, or you won't secure your prisoner." "What, not fast on Friday!" cried Bateman; "we always did so most rigidly at Oxford." "It does you credit," answered Campbell; "but I am of Cambridge." "But what do you say to Rubrics and the Calendar?" insisted Bateman. "They are not binding," answered Campbell. "They _are_, binding," said Bateman. A pause, as between the rounds of a boxing-match. Reding interposed: "Bateman, cut me, please, a bit of your capital bread--home-made, I suppose?" "A thousand pardons!" said Bateman:--"not binding?--Pass it to him, Willis, if you please. Yes, it comes from a farmer, next door. I'm glad you like it.--I repeat, they _are_ binding, Campbell." "An odd sort of binding, when they have never bound," answered Campbell; "they have existed two or three hundred years; when were they ever put in force?" "But there they are," said Bateman, "in the Prayer Book." "Yes, and there let them lie and never get out of it," retorted Campbell; "there they will stay till the end of the story." "Oh, for shame!" cried Bateman; "you should aid your mother in a difficulty, and not be like the priest and the Levite." "My mother does not wish to be aided," continued Campbell. "Oh, how you talk! What shall I do? What can be done?" cried poor Bateman. "Done! nothing," said Campbell; "is there no such thing as the desuetude of a law? Does not a law cease to be binding when it is not enforced? I appeal to Mr. Willis." Willis, thus addressed, answered that he was no moral theologian, but he had attended some schools, and he believed it was the Catholic rule that when a law had been promulgated, and was not observed by the majority, if the legislator knew the state of the case, and yet kept silence, he was considered _ipso facto_ to revoke it. "What!" said Bateman to Campbell, "do you appeal to the Romish Church?" "No," answered Campbell; "I appeal to the whole Catholic Church, of which the Church of Rome happens in this particular case to be the exponent. It is plain common sense, that, if a law is not enforced, at length it ceases to be binding. Else it would be quite a tyranny; we should not know where we were. The Church of Rome does but give expression to this common-sense view." "Well, then," said Bateman, "I will appeal to the Church of Rome too. Rome is part of the Catholic Church as well as we: since, then, the Romish Church has ever kept up fastings the ordinance is not abolished; the 'greater part' of the Catholic Church has always observed it." "But it has not," said Campbell; "it now dispenses with fasts, as you have heard." Willis interposed to ask a question. "Do you mean then," he said to Bateman, "that the Church of England and the Church of Rome make one Church?" "Most certainly," answered Bateman. "Is it possible?" said Willis; "in what sense of the word _one_?" "In every sense," answered Bateman, "but that of intercommunion." "That is, I suppose," said Willis, "they are one, except that they have no intercourse with each other." Bateman assented. Willis continued: "No intercourse; that is, no social dealings, no consulting or arranging, no ordering and obeying, no mutual support; in short, no visible union." Bateman still assented. "Well, that is my difficulty," said Willis; "I can't understand how two parts can make up one visible body if they are not visibly united; unity implies _union_." "I don't see that at all," said Bateman; "I don't see that at all. No, Willis, you must not expect I shall give that up to you; it is one of our points. There is only one visible Church, and therefore the English and Romish Churches are both parts of it." Campbell saw clearly that Bateman had got into a difficulty, and he came to the rescue in his own way. "We must distinguish," he said, "the state of the case more exactly. A kingdom may be divided, it may be distracted by parties, by dissensions, yet be still a kingdom. That, I conceive, is the real condition of the Church; in this way the Churches of England, Rome, and Greece are one." "I suppose you will grant," said Willis, "that in proportion as a rebellion is strong, so is the unity of the kingdom threatened; and if a rebellion is successful, or if the parties in a civil war manage to divide the power and territory between them, then forthwith, instead of one kingdom, we have two. Ten or fifteen years since, Belgium was part of the kingdom of the Netherlands: I suppose you would not call it part of that kingdom now? This seems the case of the Churches of Rome and England." "Still, a kingdom may be in a state of decay," replied Campbell; "consider the case of the Turkish Empire at this moment. The Union between its separate portions is so languid, that each separate Pasha may almost be termed a separate sovereign; still it is one kingdom." "The Church, then, at present," said Willis, "is a kingdom tending to dissolution?" "Certainly it is," answered Campbell. "And will ultimately fail?" asked Willis. "Certainly," said Campbell; "when the end comes, according to our Lord's saying, 'When the Son of man cometh, shall He find faith on the earth?' just as in the case of the chosen people, the sceptre failed from Judah when the Shiloh came." "Surely the Church has failed already _before_ the end," said Willis, "according to the view you take of failing. How _can_ any separation be more complete than exists at present between Rome, Greece, and England?" "They might excommunicate each other," said Campbell. "Then you are willing," said Willis, "to assign beforehand something definite, the occurrence of which will constitute a real separation." "Don't do so," said Reding to Campbell; "it is dangerous; don't commit yourself in a moral question; for then, if the thing specified did occur, it would be difficult to see our way." "No," said Willis; "you certainly _would_ be in a difficulty; but you would find your way out, I know. In that case you would choose some other _ultimatum_ as your test of schism. There would be," he added, speaking with some emotion, "'in the lowest depth a lower still.'" The concluding words were out of keeping with the tone of the conversation hitherto, and fairly excited Bateman, who, for some time, had been an impatient listener. "That's a dangerous line, Campbell," he said, "it is indeed; I can't go along with you. It will never do to say that the Church is failing; no, it never fails. It is always strong, and pure, and perfect, as the Prophets describe it. Look at its cathedrals, abbey-churches, and other sanctuaries, these fitly typify it." "My dear Bateman," answered Campbell, "I am as willing as you to maintain the fulfilment of the prophecies made to the Church, but we must allow the _fact_ that the branches of the Church are _divided_, while we maintain the _doctrine_, that the Church should be one." "I don't see that at all," answered Bateman; "no, we need not allow it. There's no such thing as Churches, there's but one Church everywhere, and it is _not_ divided. It is merely the outward forms, appearances, manifestations of the Church that are divided. The Church is one as much as ever it was." "That will never do," said Campbell; and he stood up before the fire in

confidence

How many times the word 'confidence' appears in the text?

Both existed before Christianity; both are of Pagan origin; both were afterwards consecrated to the service of the Church." "Pardon me," interrupted Bateman, "Gregorians were Jewish, not Pagan." "Be it so, for argument sake," said Campbell; "still, at least, they were not of Christian origin. Next, both the old music and the old architecture were inartificial and limited, as methods of exhibiting their respective arts. You can't have a large Grecian temple, you can't have a long Gregorian _Gloria_." "Not a long one!" said Bateman; "why there's poor Willis used to complain how tedious the old Gregorian compositions were abroad." "I don't explain myself," answered Campbell; "of course you may produce them to any length, but merely by addition, not by carrying on the melody. You can put two together, and then have one twice as long as either. But I speak of a musical piece, which must of course be the natural development of certain ideas, with one part depending on another. In like manner, you might make an Ionic temple twice as long or twice as wide as the Parthenon; but you would lose the beauty of proportion by doing so. This, then, is what I meant to say of the primitive architecture and the primitive music, that they soon come to their limit; they soon are exhausted, and can do nothing more. If you attempt more, it's like taxing a musical instrument beyond its powers." "You but try, Bateman," said Reding, "to make a bass play quadrilles, and you will see what is meant by taxing an instrument." "Well, I have heard Lindley play all sorts of quick tunes on his bass," said Bateman, "and most wonderful it is." "Wonderful is the right word," answered Reding; "it is very wonderful. You say, 'How _can_ he manage it?' and 'It's very wonderful for a bass;' but it is not pleasant in itself. In like manner, I have always felt a disgust when Mr. So-and-so comes forward to make his sweet flute bleat and bray like a hautbois; it's forcing the poor thing to do what it was never made for." "This is literally true as regards Gregorian music," said Campbell; "instruments did not exist in primitive times which could execute any other. But I am speaking under correction; Mr. Reding seems to know more about the subject than I do." "I have always understood, as you say," answered Charles, "modern music did not come into existence till after the powers of the violin became known. Corelli himself, who wrote not two hundred years ago, hardly ventures on the shift. The piano, again, I have heard, has almost given birth to Beethoven." "Modern music, then, could not be in ancient times, for want of modern instruments," said Campbell; "and, in like manner, Gothic architecture could not exist until vaulting was brought to perfection. Great mechanical inventions have taken place, both in architecture and in music, since the age of basilicas and Gregorians; and each science has gained by it." "It is curious enough," said Reding, "one thing I have been accustomed to say, quite falls in with this view of yours. When people who are not musicians have accused Handel and Beethoven of not being _simple_, I have always said, 'Is Gothic architecture _simple_?' A cathedral expresses one idea, but it is indefinitely varied and elaborated in its parts; so is a symphony or quartett of Beethoven." "Certainly, Bateman, you must tolerate Pagan architecture, or you must in consistency exclude Pagan or Jewish Gregorians," said Campbell; "you must tolerate figured music, or reprobate tracery windows." "And which are you for," asked Bateman, "Gothic with Handel, or Roman with Gregorians?" "For both in their place," answered Campbell. "I exceedingly prefer Gothic architecture to classical. I think it the one true child and development of Christianity; but I won't, for that reason, discard the Pagan style which has been sanctified by eighteen centuries, by the exclusive love of many Christian countries, and by the sanction of a host of saints. I am for toleration. Give Gothic an ascendancy; be respectful towards classical." The conversation slackened. "Much as I like modern music," said Charles, "I can't quite go the length to which your doctrine would lead me. I cannot, indeed, help liking Mozart; but surely his music is not religious." "I have not been speaking in defence of particular composers," said Campbell; "figured music may be right, yet Mozart or Beethoven inadmissible. In like manner, you don't suppose, because I tolerate Roman architecture, that therefore I like naked cupids to stand for cherubs, and sprawling women for the cardinal virtues." He paused. "Besides," he added, "as you were saying yourself just now, we must consult the genius of our country and the religious associations of our people." "Well," said Bateman, "I think the perfection of sacred music is Gregorian set to harmonies; there you have the glorious old chants, and just a little modern richness." "And I think it just the worst of all," answered Campbell; "it is a mixture of two things, each good in itself, and incongruous together. It's a mixture of the first and second courses at table. It's like the architecture of the fa ade at Milan, half Gothic, half Grecian." "It's what is always used, I believe," said Charles. "Oh yes, we must not go against the age," said Campbell; "it would be absurd to do so. I only spoke of what was right and wrong on abstract principles; and, to tell the truth, I can't help liking the mixture myself, though I can't defend it." Bateman rang for tea; his friends wished to return home soon; it was the month of January, and no season for after-dinner strolls. "Well," he said, "Campbell, you are more lenient to the age than to me; you yield to the age when it sets a figured bass to a Gregorian tone; but you laugh at me for setting a coat upon a cassock." "It's no honour to be the author of a mongrel type," said Campbell. "A mongrel type?" said Bateman; "rather it is a transition state." "What are you passing to?" asked Charles. "Talking of transitions," said Campbell abruptly, "do you know that your man Willis--I don't know his college, he turned Romanist--is living in my parish, and I have hopes he is making a transition back again." "Have you seen him?" said Charles. "No; I have called, but was unfortunate; he was out. He still goes to mass, I find." "Why, where does he find a chapel?" asked Bateman. "At Seaton. A good seven miles from you," said Charles. "Yes," answered Campbell; "and he walks to and fro every Sunday." "That is not like a transition, except a physical one," observed Reding. "A person must go somewhere," answered Campbell; "I suppose he went to church up to the week he joined the Romanists." "Very awful, these defections," said Bateman; "but very satisfactory, a melancholy satisfaction," with a look at Charles, "that the victims of delusions should be at length recovered." "Yes," said Campbell; "very sad indeed. I am afraid we must expect a number more." "Well, I don't know how to think it," said Charles; "the hold our Church has on the mind is so powerful; it is such a wrench to leave it, I cannot fancy any party-tie standing against it. Humanly speaking, there is far, far more to keep them fast than to carry them away." "Yes, if they moved as a party," said Campbell; "but that is not the case. They don't move simply because others move, but, poor fellows, because they can't help it.--Bateman, will you let my chaise be brought round?--How _can_ they help it?" continued he, standing up over the fire; "their Catholic principles lead them on, and there's nothing to drive them back." "Why should not their love for their own Church?" asked Bateman; "it is deplorable, unpardonable." "They will keep going one after another, as they ripen," said Campbell. "Did you hear the report--I did not think much of it myself," said Reding,--"that Smith was moving?" "Not impossible," answered Campbell thoughtfully. "Impossible, quite impossible," cried Bateman; "such a triumph to the enemy; I'll not believe it till I see it." "_Not_ impossible," repeated Campbell, as he buttoned and fitted his great-coat about him; "he has shifted his ground." His carriage was announced. "Mr. Reding, I believe I can take you part of your way, if you will accept of a seat in my pony-chaise." Charles accepted the offer; and Bateman was soon deserted by his two guests. CHAPTER XVII. Campbell put Charles down about half-way between Melford and his home. It was bright moonlight; and, after thanking his new friend for the lift, he bounded over the stile at the side of the road, and was at once buried in the shade of the copse along which his path lay. Soon he came in sight of a tall wooden Cross, which, in better days, had been a religious emblem, but had served in latter times to mark the boundary between two contiguous parishes. The moon was behind him, and the sacred symbol rose awfully in the pale sky, overhanging a pool, which was still venerated in the neighbourhood for its reported miraculous virtue. Charles, to his surprise, saw distinctly a man kneeling on the little mound out of which the Cross grew; nay, heard him, for his shoulders were bare, and he was using the discipline upon them, while he repeated what appeared to be some form of devotion. Charles stopped, unwilling to interrupt, yet not knowing how to pass; but the stranger had caught the sound of feet, and in a few seconds vanished from his view. He was overcome with a sudden emotion, which he could not control. "O happy times," he cried, "when faith was one! O blessed penitent, whoever you are, who know what to believe, and how to gain pardon, and can begin where others end! Here am I, in my twenty-third year, uncertain about everything, because I have nothing to trust." He drew near to the Cross, took off his hat, knelt down and kissed the wood, and prayed awhile that whatever might be the consequences, whatever the trial, whatever the loss, he might have grace to follow whithersoever God should call him. He then rose and turned to the cold well; he took some water in his palm and drank it. He felt as if he could have prayed to the Saint who owned that pool--St. Thomas the Martyr, he believed--to plead for him, and to aid him in his search after the true faith; but something whispered, "It is wrong;" and he checked the wish. So, regaining his hat, he passed away, and pursued his homeward path at a brisk pace. The family had retired for the night, and he went up without delay to his bedroom. Passing through his study, he found a letter lying on his table, without post-mark, which had come for him in his absence. He broke the seal; it was an anonymous paper, and began as follows:-- "_Questions for one whom it concerns._ 1. What is meant by the One Church of which the Creed speaks?" "This is too much for to-night," thought Charles, "it is late already;" and he folded it up again and threw it on his dressing-table. "Some well-meaning person, I dare say, who thinks he knows me." He wound up his watch, gave a yawn, and put on his slippers. "Who can there be in this neighbourhood to write it?" He opened it again. "It's certainly a Catholic's writing," he said. His mind glanced to the person whom he had seen under the Cross; perhaps it glanced further. He sat down and began reading _in extenso:_-- "_Questions for one whom it concerns._ 1. What is meant by the One Church of which the Creed speaks? 2. Is it a generalization or a thing? 3. Does it belong to past history or to the present time? 4. Does not Scripture speak of it as a kingdom? 5. And a kingdom which was to last to the end? 6. What is a kingdom? and what is meant when Scripture calls the Church a kingdom? 7. Is it a visible kingdom, or an invisible? 8. Can a kingdom have two governments, and these acting in contrary directions? 9. Is identity of institutions, opinions, or race, sufficient to make two nations one kingdom? 10. Is the Episcopal form, the hierarchy, or the Apostles' Creed, sufficient to make the Churches of Rome and of England one? 11. Where there are parts, does not unity require union, and a visible unity require a visible union? 12. How can two religions be the same which have utterly distinct worships and ideas of worship? 13. Can two religions be one, if the most sacred and peculiar act of worship in the one is called 'a blasphemous fable and dangerous deceit' in the other? 14. Has not the One Church of Christ one faith? 15. Can a Church be Christ's which has not one faith? 16. Which is contradictory to itself in its documents? 17. And in different centuries? 18. And in its documents contrasted with its divines? 19. And in its divines and members one with another? 20. What is _the_ faith of the English Church? 21. How many Councils does the English Church admit? 22. Does the English Church consider the present Nestorian and Jacobite Churches under an anathema, or part of the visible Church? 23. Is it necessary, or possible, to believe any one but a professed messenger from God? 24. Is the English Church, does she claim to be, a messenger from God? 25. Does she impart the truth, or bid us seek it? 26. If she leaves us to seek it, do members of the English Church seek it with that earnestness which Scripture enjoins? 27. Is a person safe who lives without faith, even though he seems to have hope and charity?" Charles got very sleepy before he reached the "twenty-seventhly." "It won't do," he said; "I am only losing my time. They seem well put; but they must stand over." He put the paper from him, said his prayers, and was soon fast asleep. Next morning, on waking, the subject of the letter came into his mind, and he lay for some time thinking over it. "Certainly," he said, "I do wish very much to be settled either in the English Church or somewhere else. I wish I knew _what_ Christianity was; I am ready to be at pains to seek it, and would accept it eagerly and thankfully, if found. But it's a work of time; all the paper-arguments in the world are unequal to giving one a view in a moment. There must be a process; they may shorten it, as medicine shortens physical processes, but they can't supersede its necessity. I recollect how all my religious doubts and theories went to flight on my dear father's death. They weren't part of me, and could not sustain rough weather. Conviction is the eyesight of the mind, not a conclusion from premises; God works it, and His works are slow. At least so it is with me. I can't believe on a sudden; if I attempt it, I shall be using words for things, and be sure to repent it. Or if not, I shall go right merely by hazard. I must move in what seems God's way; I can but put myself on the road; a higher power must overtake me, and carry me forward. At present I have a direct duty upon me, which my dear father left me, to take a good class. This is the path of duty. I won't put off the inquiry, but I'll let it proceed in that path. God can bless my reading to my spiritual illumination, as well as anything else. Saul sought his father's asses, and found a kingdom. All in good time. When I have taken my degree the subject will properly come on me." He sighed. "My degree! those odious Articles! rather, when I have passed my examination. Well, it's no good lying here;" and he jumped up, and signed himself with the Cross. His eye caught the letter. "It's well written--better than Willis could write; it's not Willis's. There's something about that Willis I don't understand. I wonder how he and his mother get on together. I don't think he _has_ any sisters." CHAPTER XVIII. Campbell had been much pleased with Reding, and his interest in him was not lessened by a hint from Bateman that his allegiance to the English Church was in danger. He called on him in no long time, asked him to dinner, and, when Charles had returned his invitation, and Campbell had accepted it, the beginning of an acquaintance was formed between the rectory at Sutton and the family at Boughton which grew into an intimacy as time went on. Campbell was a gentleman, a travelled man, of clear head and ardent mind, candid, well-read in English divinity, a devoted Anglican, and the incumbent of a living so well endowed as almost to be a dignity. Mary was pleased at the introduction, as bringing her brother under the influence of an intellect which he could not make light of; and, as Campbell had a carriage, it was natural that he should wish to save Charles the loss of a day's reading and the trouble of a muddy walk to the rectory and back by coming over himself to Boughton. Accordingly it so happened that he saw Charles twice at his mother's for once that he saw him at Sutton. But whatever came of these visits, nothing occurred which particularly bears upon the line of our narrative; so let them pass. One day Charles called upon Bateman, and, on entering the room, was surprised to see him and Campbell at luncheon, and in conversation with a third person. There was a moment's surprise and hesitation on seeing him before they rose and welcomed him as usual. When he looked at the stranger he felt a slight awkwardness himself, which he could not control. It was Willis; and apparently submitted to the process of reconversion. Charles was evidently _de trop_, but there was no help for it; so he shook hands with Willis, and accepted the pressing call of Bateman to seat himself at table, and to share their bread and cheese. Charles sat down opposite Willis, and for a while could not keep his eyes from him. At first he had some difficulty in believing he had before him the impetuous youth he had known two years and a half before. He had always been silent in general company; but in that he was changed, as in everything else. Not that he talked more than was natural, but he talked freely and easily. The great change, however, was in his appearance and manner. He had lost his bloom and youthfulness; his expression was sweeter indeed than before, and very placid, but there was a thin line down his face on each side of his mouth; his cheeks were wanting in fulness, and he had the air of a man of thirty. When he entered into conversation, and became animated, his former self returned. "I suppose we may all admire this cream at this season," said Charles, as he helped himself, "for we are none of us Devonshire men." "It's not peculiar to Devonshire," answered Campbell; "that is, they have it abroad. At Rome there is a sort of cream or cheese very like it, and very common." "Will butter and cream keep in so warm a climate?" asked Charles; "I fancied oil was the substitute." "Rome is not so warm as you fancy," said Willis, "except during the summer." "Oil? so it is," said Campbell; "thus we read in Scripture of the multiplication of the oil and meal, which seems to answer to bread and butter. The oil in Rome is excellent, so clear and pale; you can eat it as milk." "The taste, I suppose, is peculiar," observed Charles. "Just at first," answered Campbell; "but one soon gets used to it. All such substances, milk, butter, cheese, oil, have a particular taste at first, which use alone gets over. The rich Guernsey butter is too much for strangers, while Russians relish whale-oil. Most of our tastes are in a measure artificial." "It is certainly so with vegetables," said Willis; "when I was a boy I could not eat beans, spinach, asparagus, parsnips, and I think some others." "Therefore your hermit's fare is not only the most natural, but the only naturally palatable, I suppose,--a crust of bread and a draught from the stream," replied Campbell. "Or the Clerk of Copmanhurst's dry peas," said Charles. "The macaroni and grapes of the Neapolitans are as natural and more palatable," said Willis. "Rather they are a luxury," said Bateman. "No," answered Campbell, "not a luxury; a luxury is in its very idea a something _recherch _. Thus Horace speaks of the '_peregrina lagois_.' What nature yields _sponte su _ around you, however delicious, is no luxury. Wild ducks are no luxury in your old neighbourhood, amid your Oxford fens, Bateman; nor grapes at Naples." "Then the old women here are luxurious over their sixpenn'rth of tea," said Bateman; "for it comes from China." Campbell was posed for an instant. Somehow neither he nor Bateman were quite at their ease, whether with themselves or with each other; it might be Charles's sudden intrusion, or something which had happened before it. Campbell answered at length that steamers and railroads were making strange changes; that time and place were vanishing, and price would soon be the only measure of luxury. "This seems the measure also of _grasso_ and _magro_ food in Italy," said Willis; "for I think there are dispensations for butcher's meat in Lent, in consequence of the dearness of bread and oil." "This seems to show that the age for abstinences and fastings is past," observed Campbell; "for it's absurd to keep Lent on beef and mutton." "Oh, Campbell, what are you saying?" cried Bateman; "past! are we bound by their lax ways in Italy?" "I do certainly think," answered Campbell, "that fasting is unsuitable to this age, in England as well as in Rome." "Take care, my fine fellows," thought Charles; "keep your ranks, or you won't secure your prisoner." "What, not fast on Friday!" cried Bateman; "we always did so most rigidly at Oxford." "It does you credit," answered Campbell; "but I am of Cambridge." "But what do you say to Rubrics and the Calendar?" insisted Bateman. "They are not binding," answered Campbell. "They _are_, binding," said Bateman. A pause, as between the rounds of a boxing-match. Reding interposed: "Bateman, cut me, please, a bit of your capital bread--home-made, I suppose?" "A thousand pardons!" said Bateman:--"not binding?--Pass it to him, Willis, if you please. Yes, it comes from a farmer, next door. I'm glad you like it.--I repeat, they _are_ binding, Campbell." "An odd sort of binding, when they have never bound," answered Campbell; "they have existed two or three hundred years; when were they ever put in force?" "But there they are," said Bateman, "in the Prayer Book." "Yes, and there let them lie and never get out of it," retorted Campbell; "there they will stay till the end of the story." "Oh, for shame!" cried Bateman; "you should aid your mother in a difficulty, and not be like the priest and the Levite." "My mother does not wish to be aided," continued Campbell. "Oh, how you talk! What shall I do? What can be done?" cried poor Bateman. "Done! nothing," said Campbell; "is there no such thing as the desuetude of a law? Does not a law cease to be binding when it is not enforced? I appeal to Mr. Willis." Willis, thus addressed, answered that he was no moral theologian, but he had attended some schools, and he believed it was the Catholic rule that when a law had been promulgated, and was not observed by the majority, if the legislator knew the state of the case, and yet kept silence, he was considered _ipso facto_ to revoke it. "What!" said Bateman to Campbell, "do you appeal to the Romish Church?" "No," answered Campbell; "I appeal to the whole Catholic Church, of which the Church of Rome happens in this particular case to be the exponent. It is plain common sense, that, if a law is not enforced, at length it ceases to be binding. Else it would be quite a tyranny; we should not know where we were. The Church of Rome does but give expression to this common-sense view." "Well, then," said Bateman, "I will appeal to the Church of Rome too. Rome is part of the Catholic Church as well as we: since, then, the Romish Church has ever kept up fastings the ordinance is not abolished; the 'greater part' of the Catholic Church has always observed it." "But it has not," said Campbell; "it now dispenses with fasts, as you have heard." Willis interposed to ask a question. "Do you mean then," he said to Bateman, "that the Church of England and the Church of Rome make one Church?" "Most certainly," answered Bateman. "Is it possible?" said Willis; "in what sense of the word _one_?" "In every sense," answered Bateman, "but that of intercommunion." "That is, I suppose," said Willis, "they are one, except that they have no intercourse with each other." Bateman assented. Willis continued: "No intercourse; that is, no social dealings, no consulting or arranging, no ordering and obeying, no mutual support; in short, no visible union." Bateman still assented. "Well, that is my difficulty," said Willis; "I can't understand how two parts can make up one visible body if they are not visibly united; unity implies _union_." "I don't see that at all," said Bateman; "I don't see that at all. No, Willis, you must not expect I shall give that up to you; it is one of our points. There is only one visible Church, and therefore the English and Romish Churches are both parts of it." Campbell saw clearly that Bateman had got into a difficulty, and he came to the rescue in his own way. "We must distinguish," he said, "the state of the case more exactly. A kingdom may be divided, it may be distracted by parties, by dissensions, yet be still a kingdom. That, I conceive, is the real condition of the Church; in this way the Churches of England, Rome, and Greece are one." "I suppose you will grant," said Willis, "that in proportion as a rebellion is strong, so is the unity of the kingdom threatened; and if a rebellion is successful, or if the parties in a civil war manage to divide the power and territory between them, then forthwith, instead of one kingdom, we have two. Ten or fifteen years since, Belgium was part of the kingdom of the Netherlands: I suppose you would not call it part of that kingdom now? This seems the case of the Churches of Rome and England." "Still, a kingdom may be in a state of decay," replied Campbell; "consider the case of the Turkish Empire at this moment. The Union between its separate portions is so languid, that each separate Pasha may almost be termed a separate sovereign; still it is one kingdom." "The Church, then, at present," said Willis, "is a kingdom tending to dissolution?" "Certainly it is," answered Campbell. "And will ultimately fail?" asked Willis. "Certainly," said Campbell; "when the end comes, according to our Lord's saying, 'When the Son of man cometh, shall He find faith on the earth?' just as in the case of the chosen people, the sceptre failed from Judah when the Shiloh came." "Surely the Church has failed already _before_ the end," said Willis, "according to the view you take of failing. How _can_ any separation be more complete than exists at present between Rome, Greece, and England?" "They might excommunicate each other," said Campbell. "Then you are willing," said Willis, "to assign beforehand something definite, the occurrence of which will constitute a real separation." "Don't do so," said Reding to Campbell; "it is dangerous; don't commit yourself in a moral question; for then, if the thing specified did occur, it would be difficult to see our way." "No," said Willis; "you certainly _would_ be in a difficulty; but you would find your way out, I know. In that case you would choose some other _ultimatum_ as your test of schism. There would be," he added, speaking with some emotion, "'in the lowest depth a lower still.'" The concluding words were out of keeping with the tone of the conversation hitherto, and fairly excited Bateman, who, for some time, had been an impatient listener. "That's a dangerous line, Campbell," he said, "it is indeed; I can't go along with you. It will never do to say that the Church is failing; no, it never fails. It is always strong, and pure, and perfect, as the Prophets describe it. Look at its cathedrals, abbey-churches, and other sanctuaries, these fitly typify it." "My dear Bateman," answered Campbell, "I am as willing as you to maintain the fulfilment of the prophecies made to the Church, but we must allow the _fact_ that the branches of the Church are _divided_, while we maintain the _doctrine_, that the Church should be one." "I don't see that at all," answered Bateman; "no, we need not allow it. There's no such thing as Churches, there's but one Church everywhere, and it is _not_ divided. It is merely the outward forms, appearances, manifestations of the Church that are divided. The Church is one as much as ever it was." "That will never do," said Campbell; and he stood up before the fire in

walks

How many times the word 'walks' appears in the text?

Both existed before Christianity; both are of Pagan origin; both were afterwards consecrated to the service of the Church." "Pardon me," interrupted Bateman, "Gregorians were Jewish, not Pagan." "Be it so, for argument sake," said Campbell; "still, at least, they were not of Christian origin. Next, both the old music and the old architecture were inartificial and limited, as methods of exhibiting their respective arts. You can't have a large Grecian temple, you can't have a long Gregorian _Gloria_." "Not a long one!" said Bateman; "why there's poor Willis used to complain how tedious the old Gregorian compositions were abroad." "I don't explain myself," answered Campbell; "of course you may produce them to any length, but merely by addition, not by carrying on the melody. You can put two together, and then have one twice as long as either. But I speak of a musical piece, which must of course be the natural development of certain ideas, with one part depending on another. In like manner, you might make an Ionic temple twice as long or twice as wide as the Parthenon; but you would lose the beauty of proportion by doing so. This, then, is what I meant to say of the primitive architecture and the primitive music, that they soon come to their limit; they soon are exhausted, and can do nothing more. If you attempt more, it's like taxing a musical instrument beyond its powers." "You but try, Bateman," said Reding, "to make a bass play quadrilles, and you will see what is meant by taxing an instrument." "Well, I have heard Lindley play all sorts of quick tunes on his bass," said Bateman, "and most wonderful it is." "Wonderful is the right word," answered Reding; "it is very wonderful. You say, 'How _can_ he manage it?' and 'It's very wonderful for a bass;' but it is not pleasant in itself. In like manner, I have always felt a disgust when Mr. So-and-so comes forward to make his sweet flute bleat and bray like a hautbois; it's forcing the poor thing to do what it was never made for." "This is literally true as regards Gregorian music," said Campbell; "instruments did not exist in primitive times which could execute any other. But I am speaking under correction; Mr. Reding seems to know more about the subject than I do." "I have always understood, as you say," answered Charles, "modern music did not come into existence till after the powers of the violin became known. Corelli himself, who wrote not two hundred years ago, hardly ventures on the shift. The piano, again, I have heard, has almost given birth to Beethoven." "Modern music, then, could not be in ancient times, for want of modern instruments," said Campbell; "and, in like manner, Gothic architecture could not exist until vaulting was brought to perfection. Great mechanical inventions have taken place, both in architecture and in music, since the age of basilicas and Gregorians; and each science has gained by it." "It is curious enough," said Reding, "one thing I have been accustomed to say, quite falls in with this view of yours. When people who are not musicians have accused Handel and Beethoven of not being _simple_, I have always said, 'Is Gothic architecture _simple_?' A cathedral expresses one idea, but it is indefinitely varied and elaborated in its parts; so is a symphony or quartett of Beethoven." "Certainly, Bateman, you must tolerate Pagan architecture, or you must in consistency exclude Pagan or Jewish Gregorians," said Campbell; "you must tolerate figured music, or reprobate tracery windows." "And which are you for," asked Bateman, "Gothic with Handel, or Roman with Gregorians?" "For both in their place," answered Campbell. "I exceedingly prefer Gothic architecture to classical. I think it the one true child and development of Christianity; but I won't, for that reason, discard the Pagan style which has been sanctified by eighteen centuries, by the exclusive love of many Christian countries, and by the sanction of a host of saints. I am for toleration. Give Gothic an ascendancy; be respectful towards classical." The conversation slackened. "Much as I like modern music," said Charles, "I can't quite go the length to which your doctrine would lead me. I cannot, indeed, help liking Mozart; but surely his music is not religious." "I have not been speaking in defence of particular composers," said Campbell; "figured music may be right, yet Mozart or Beethoven inadmissible. In like manner, you don't suppose, because I tolerate Roman architecture, that therefore I like naked cupids to stand for cherubs, and sprawling women for the cardinal virtues." He paused. "Besides," he added, "as you were saying yourself just now, we must consult the genius of our country and the religious associations of our people." "Well," said Bateman, "I think the perfection of sacred music is Gregorian set to harmonies; there you have the glorious old chants, and just a little modern richness." "And I think it just the worst of all," answered Campbell; "it is a mixture of two things, each good in itself, and incongruous together. It's a mixture of the first and second courses at table. It's like the architecture of the fa ade at Milan, half Gothic, half Grecian." "It's what is always used, I believe," said Charles. "Oh yes, we must not go against the age," said Campbell; "it would be absurd to do so. I only spoke of what was right and wrong on abstract principles; and, to tell the truth, I can't help liking the mixture myself, though I can't defend it." Bateman rang for tea; his friends wished to return home soon; it was the month of January, and no season for after-dinner strolls. "Well," he said, "Campbell, you are more lenient to the age than to me; you yield to the age when it sets a figured bass to a Gregorian tone; but you laugh at me for setting a coat upon a cassock." "It's no honour to be the author of a mongrel type," said Campbell. "A mongrel type?" said Bateman; "rather it is a transition state." "What are you passing to?" asked Charles. "Talking of transitions," said Campbell abruptly, "do you know that your man Willis--I don't know his college, he turned Romanist--is living in my parish, and I have hopes he is making a transition back again." "Have you seen him?" said Charles. "No; I have called, but was unfortunate; he was out. He still goes to mass, I find." "Why, where does he find a chapel?" asked Bateman. "At Seaton. A good seven miles from you," said Charles. "Yes," answered Campbell; "and he walks to and fro every Sunday." "That is not like a transition, except a physical one," observed Reding. "A person must go somewhere," answered Campbell; "I suppose he went to church up to the week he joined the Romanists." "Very awful, these defections," said Bateman; "but very satisfactory, a melancholy satisfaction," with a look at Charles, "that the victims of delusions should be at length recovered." "Yes," said Campbell; "very sad indeed. I am afraid we must expect a number more." "Well, I don't know how to think it," said Charles; "the hold our Church has on the mind is so powerful; it is such a wrench to leave it, I cannot fancy any party-tie standing against it. Humanly speaking, there is far, far more to keep them fast than to carry them away." "Yes, if they moved as a party," said Campbell; "but that is not the case. They don't move simply because others move, but, poor fellows, because they can't help it.--Bateman, will you let my chaise be brought round?--How _can_ they help it?" continued he, standing up over the fire; "their Catholic principles lead them on, and there's nothing to drive them back." "Why should not their love for their own Church?" asked Bateman; "it is deplorable, unpardonable." "They will keep going one after another, as they ripen," said Campbell. "Did you hear the report--I did not think much of it myself," said Reding,--"that Smith was moving?" "Not impossible," answered Campbell thoughtfully. "Impossible, quite impossible," cried Bateman; "such a triumph to the enemy; I'll not believe it till I see it." "_Not_ impossible," repeated Campbell, as he buttoned and fitted his great-coat about him; "he has shifted his ground." His carriage was announced. "Mr. Reding, I believe I can take you part of your way, if you will accept of a seat in my pony-chaise." Charles accepted the offer; and Bateman was soon deserted by his two guests. CHAPTER XVII. Campbell put Charles down about half-way between Melford and his home. It was bright moonlight; and, after thanking his new friend for the lift, he bounded over the stile at the side of the road, and was at once buried in the shade of the copse along which his path lay. Soon he came in sight of a tall wooden Cross, which, in better days, had been a religious emblem, but had served in latter times to mark the boundary between two contiguous parishes. The moon was behind him, and the sacred symbol rose awfully in the pale sky, overhanging a pool, which was still venerated in the neighbourhood for its reported miraculous virtue. Charles, to his surprise, saw distinctly a man kneeling on the little mound out of which the Cross grew; nay, heard him, for his shoulders were bare, and he was using the discipline upon them, while he repeated what appeared to be some form of devotion. Charles stopped, unwilling to interrupt, yet not knowing how to pass; but the stranger had caught the sound of feet, and in a few seconds vanished from his view. He was overcome with a sudden emotion, which he could not control. "O happy times," he cried, "when faith was one! O blessed penitent, whoever you are, who know what to believe, and how to gain pardon, and can begin where others end! Here am I, in my twenty-third year, uncertain about everything, because I have nothing to trust." He drew near to the Cross, took off his hat, knelt down and kissed the wood, and prayed awhile that whatever might be the consequences, whatever the trial, whatever the loss, he might have grace to follow whithersoever God should call him. He then rose and turned to the cold well; he took some water in his palm and drank it. He felt as if he could have prayed to the Saint who owned that pool--St. Thomas the Martyr, he believed--to plead for him, and to aid him in his search after the true faith; but something whispered, "It is wrong;" and he checked the wish. So, regaining his hat, he passed away, and pursued his homeward path at a brisk pace. The family had retired for the night, and he went up without delay to his bedroom. Passing through his study, he found a letter lying on his table, without post-mark, which had come for him in his absence. He broke the seal; it was an anonymous paper, and began as follows:-- "_Questions for one whom it concerns._ 1. What is meant by the One Church of which the Creed speaks?" "This is too much for to-night," thought Charles, "it is late already;" and he folded it up again and threw it on his dressing-table. "Some well-meaning person, I dare say, who thinks he knows me." He wound up his watch, gave a yawn, and put on his slippers. "Who can there be in this neighbourhood to write it?" He opened it again. "It's certainly a Catholic's writing," he said. His mind glanced to the person whom he had seen under the Cross; perhaps it glanced further. He sat down and began reading _in extenso:_-- "_Questions for one whom it concerns._ 1. What is meant by the One Church of which the Creed speaks? 2. Is it a generalization or a thing? 3. Does it belong to past history or to the present time? 4. Does not Scripture speak of it as a kingdom? 5. And a kingdom which was to last to the end? 6. What is a kingdom? and what is meant when Scripture calls the Church a kingdom? 7. Is it a visible kingdom, or an invisible? 8. Can a kingdom have two governments, and these acting in contrary directions? 9. Is identity of institutions, opinions, or race, sufficient to make two nations one kingdom? 10. Is the Episcopal form, the hierarchy, or the Apostles' Creed, sufficient to make the Churches of Rome and of England one? 11. Where there are parts, does not unity require union, and a visible unity require a visible union? 12. How can two religions be the same which have utterly distinct worships and ideas of worship? 13. Can two religions be one, if the most sacred and peculiar act of worship in the one is called 'a blasphemous fable and dangerous deceit' in the other? 14. Has not the One Church of Christ one faith? 15. Can a Church be Christ's which has not one faith? 16. Which is contradictory to itself in its documents? 17. And in different centuries? 18. And in its documents contrasted with its divines? 19. And in its divines and members one with another? 20. What is _the_ faith of the English Church? 21. How many Councils does the English Church admit? 22. Does the English Church consider the present Nestorian and Jacobite Churches under an anathema, or part of the visible Church? 23. Is it necessary, or possible, to believe any one but a professed messenger from God? 24. Is the English Church, does she claim to be, a messenger from God? 25. Does she impart the truth, or bid us seek it? 26. If she leaves us to seek it, do members of the English Church seek it with that earnestness which Scripture enjoins? 27. Is a person safe who lives without faith, even though he seems to have hope and charity?" Charles got very sleepy before he reached the "twenty-seventhly." "It won't do," he said; "I am only losing my time. They seem well put; but they must stand over." He put the paper from him, said his prayers, and was soon fast asleep. Next morning, on waking, the subject of the letter came into his mind, and he lay for some time thinking over it. "Certainly," he said, "I do wish very much to be settled either in the English Church or somewhere else. I wish I knew _what_ Christianity was; I am ready to be at pains to seek it, and would accept it eagerly and thankfully, if found. But it's a work of time; all the paper-arguments in the world are unequal to giving one a view in a moment. There must be a process; they may shorten it, as medicine shortens physical processes, but they can't supersede its necessity. I recollect how all my religious doubts and theories went to flight on my dear father's death. They weren't part of me, and could not sustain rough weather. Conviction is the eyesight of the mind, not a conclusion from premises; God works it, and His works are slow. At least so it is with me. I can't believe on a sudden; if I attempt it, I shall be using words for things, and be sure to repent it. Or if not, I shall go right merely by hazard. I must move in what seems God's way; I can but put myself on the road; a higher power must overtake me, and carry me forward. At present I have a direct duty upon me, which my dear father left me, to take a good class. This is the path of duty. I won't put off the inquiry, but I'll let it proceed in that path. God can bless my reading to my spiritual illumination, as well as anything else. Saul sought his father's asses, and found a kingdom. All in good time. When I have taken my degree the subject will properly come on me." He sighed. "My degree! those odious Articles! rather, when I have passed my examination. Well, it's no good lying here;" and he jumped up, and signed himself with the Cross. His eye caught the letter. "It's well written--better than Willis could write; it's not Willis's. There's something about that Willis I don't understand. I wonder how he and his mother get on together. I don't think he _has_ any sisters." CHAPTER XVIII. Campbell had been much pleased with Reding, and his interest in him was not lessened by a hint from Bateman that his allegiance to the English Church was in danger. He called on him in no long time, asked him to dinner, and, when Charles had returned his invitation, and Campbell had accepted it, the beginning of an acquaintance was formed between the rectory at Sutton and the family at Boughton which grew into an intimacy as time went on. Campbell was a gentleman, a travelled man, of clear head and ardent mind, candid, well-read in English divinity, a devoted Anglican, and the incumbent of a living so well endowed as almost to be a dignity. Mary was pleased at the introduction, as bringing her brother under the influence of an intellect which he could not make light of; and, as Campbell had a carriage, it was natural that he should wish to save Charles the loss of a day's reading and the trouble of a muddy walk to the rectory and back by coming over himself to Boughton. Accordingly it so happened that he saw Charles twice at his mother's for once that he saw him at Sutton. But whatever came of these visits, nothing occurred which particularly bears upon the line of our narrative; so let them pass. One day Charles called upon Bateman, and, on entering the room, was surprised to see him and Campbell at luncheon, and in conversation with a third person. There was a moment's surprise and hesitation on seeing him before they rose and welcomed him as usual. When he looked at the stranger he felt a slight awkwardness himself, which he could not control. It was Willis; and apparently submitted to the process of reconversion. Charles was evidently _de trop_, but there was no help for it; so he shook hands with Willis, and accepted the pressing call of Bateman to seat himself at table, and to share their bread and cheese. Charles sat down opposite Willis, and for a while could not keep his eyes from him. At first he had some difficulty in believing he had before him the impetuous youth he had known two years and a half before. He had always been silent in general company; but in that he was changed, as in everything else. Not that he talked more than was natural, but he talked freely and easily. The great change, however, was in his appearance and manner. He had lost his bloom and youthfulness; his expression was sweeter indeed than before, and very placid, but there was a thin line down his face on each side of his mouth; his cheeks were wanting in fulness, and he had the air of a man of thirty. When he entered into conversation, and became animated, his former self returned. "I suppose we may all admire this cream at this season," said Charles, as he helped himself, "for we are none of us Devonshire men." "It's not peculiar to Devonshire," answered Campbell; "that is, they have it abroad. At Rome there is a sort of cream or cheese very like it, and very common." "Will butter and cream keep in so warm a climate?" asked Charles; "I fancied oil was the substitute." "Rome is not so warm as you fancy," said Willis, "except during the summer." "Oil? so it is," said Campbell; "thus we read in Scripture of the multiplication of the oil and meal, which seems to answer to bread and butter. The oil in Rome is excellent, so clear and pale; you can eat it as milk." "The taste, I suppose, is peculiar," observed Charles. "Just at first," answered Campbell; "but one soon gets used to it. All such substances, milk, butter, cheese, oil, have a particular taste at first, which use alone gets over. The rich Guernsey butter is too much for strangers, while Russians relish whale-oil. Most of our tastes are in a measure artificial." "It is certainly so with vegetables," said Willis; "when I was a boy I could not eat beans, spinach, asparagus, parsnips, and I think some others." "Therefore your hermit's fare is not only the most natural, but the only naturally palatable, I suppose,--a crust of bread and a draught from the stream," replied Campbell. "Or the Clerk of Copmanhurst's dry peas," said Charles. "The macaroni and grapes of the Neapolitans are as natural and more palatable," said Willis. "Rather they are a luxury," said Bateman. "No," answered Campbell, "not a luxury; a luxury is in its very idea a something _recherch _. Thus Horace speaks of the '_peregrina lagois_.' What nature yields _sponte su _ around you, however delicious, is no luxury. Wild ducks are no luxury in your old neighbourhood, amid your Oxford fens, Bateman; nor grapes at Naples." "Then the old women here are luxurious over their sixpenn'rth of tea," said Bateman; "for it comes from China." Campbell was posed for an instant. Somehow neither he nor Bateman were quite at their ease, whether with themselves or with each other; it might be Charles's sudden intrusion, or something which had happened before it. Campbell answered at length that steamers and railroads were making strange changes; that time and place were vanishing, and price would soon be the only measure of luxury. "This seems the measure also of _grasso_ and _magro_ food in Italy," said Willis; "for I think there are dispensations for butcher's meat in Lent, in consequence of the dearness of bread and oil." "This seems to show that the age for abstinences and fastings is past," observed Campbell; "for it's absurd to keep Lent on beef and mutton." "Oh, Campbell, what are you saying?" cried Bateman; "past! are we bound by their lax ways in Italy?" "I do certainly think," answered Campbell, "that fasting is unsuitable to this age, in England as well as in Rome." "Take care, my fine fellows," thought Charles; "keep your ranks, or you won't secure your prisoner." "What, not fast on Friday!" cried Bateman; "we always did so most rigidly at Oxford." "It does you credit," answered Campbell; "but I am of Cambridge." "But what do you say to Rubrics and the Calendar?" insisted Bateman. "They are not binding," answered Campbell. "They _are_, binding," said Bateman. A pause, as between the rounds of a boxing-match. Reding interposed: "Bateman, cut me, please, a bit of your capital bread--home-made, I suppose?" "A thousand pardons!" said Bateman:--"not binding?--Pass it to him, Willis, if you please. Yes, it comes from a farmer, next door. I'm glad you like it.--I repeat, they _are_ binding, Campbell." "An odd sort of binding, when they have never bound," answered Campbell; "they have existed two or three hundred years; when were they ever put in force?" "But there they are," said Bateman, "in the Prayer Book." "Yes, and there let them lie and never get out of it," retorted Campbell; "there they will stay till the end of the story." "Oh, for shame!" cried Bateman; "you should aid your mother in a difficulty, and not be like the priest and the Levite." "My mother does not wish to be aided," continued Campbell. "Oh, how you talk! What shall I do? What can be done?" cried poor Bateman. "Done! nothing," said Campbell; "is there no such thing as the desuetude of a law? Does not a law cease to be binding when it is not enforced? I appeal to Mr. Willis." Willis, thus addressed, answered that he was no moral theologian, but he had attended some schools, and he believed it was the Catholic rule that when a law had been promulgated, and was not observed by the majority, if the legislator knew the state of the case, and yet kept silence, he was considered _ipso facto_ to revoke it. "What!" said Bateman to Campbell, "do you appeal to the Romish Church?" "No," answered Campbell; "I appeal to the whole Catholic Church, of which the Church of Rome happens in this particular case to be the exponent. It is plain common sense, that, if a law is not enforced, at length it ceases to be binding. Else it would be quite a tyranny; we should not know where we were. The Church of Rome does but give expression to this common-sense view." "Well, then," said Bateman, "I will appeal to the Church of Rome too. Rome is part of the Catholic Church as well as we: since, then, the Romish Church has ever kept up fastings the ordinance is not abolished; the 'greater part' of the Catholic Church has always observed it." "But it has not," said Campbell; "it now dispenses with fasts, as you have heard." Willis interposed to ask a question. "Do you mean then," he said to Bateman, "that the Church of England and the Church of Rome make one Church?" "Most certainly," answered Bateman. "Is it possible?" said Willis; "in what sense of the word _one_?" "In every sense," answered Bateman, "but that of intercommunion." "That is, I suppose," said Willis, "they are one, except that they have no intercourse with each other." Bateman assented. Willis continued: "No intercourse; that is, no social dealings, no consulting or arranging, no ordering and obeying, no mutual support; in short, no visible union." Bateman still assented. "Well, that is my difficulty," said Willis; "I can't understand how two parts can make up one visible body if they are not visibly united; unity implies _union_." "I don't see that at all," said Bateman; "I don't see that at all. No, Willis, you must not expect I shall give that up to you; it is one of our points. There is only one visible Church, and therefore the English and Romish Churches are both parts of it." Campbell saw clearly that Bateman had got into a difficulty, and he came to the rescue in his own way. "We must distinguish," he said, "the state of the case more exactly. A kingdom may be divided, it may be distracted by parties, by dissensions, yet be still a kingdom. That, I conceive, is the real condition of the Church; in this way the Churches of England, Rome, and Greece are one." "I suppose you will grant," said Willis, "that in proportion as a rebellion is strong, so is the unity of the kingdom threatened; and if a rebellion is successful, or if the parties in a civil war manage to divide the power and territory between them, then forthwith, instead of one kingdom, we have two. Ten or fifteen years since, Belgium was part of the kingdom of the Netherlands: I suppose you would not call it part of that kingdom now? This seems the case of the Churches of Rome and England." "Still, a kingdom may be in a state of decay," replied Campbell; "consider the case of the Turkish Empire at this moment. The Union between its separate portions is so languid, that each separate Pasha may almost be termed a separate sovereign; still it is one kingdom." "The Church, then, at present," said Willis, "is a kingdom tending to dissolution?" "Certainly it is," answered Campbell. "And will ultimately fail?" asked Willis. "Certainly," said Campbell; "when the end comes, according to our Lord's saying, 'When the Son of man cometh, shall He find faith on the earth?' just as in the case of the chosen people, the sceptre failed from Judah when the Shiloh came." "Surely the Church has failed already _before_ the end," said Willis, "according to the view you take of failing. How _can_ any separation be more complete than exists at present between Rome, Greece, and England?" "They might excommunicate each other," said Campbell. "Then you are willing," said Willis, "to assign beforehand something definite, the occurrence of which will constitute a real separation." "Don't do so," said Reding to Campbell; "it is dangerous; don't commit yourself in a moral question; for then, if the thing specified did occur, it would be difficult to see our way." "No," said Willis; "you certainly _would_ be in a difficulty; but you would find your way out, I know. In that case you would choose some other _ultimatum_ as your test of schism. There would be," he added, speaking with some emotion, "'in the lowest depth a lower still.'" The concluding words were out of keeping with the tone of the conversation hitherto, and fairly excited Bateman, who, for some time, had been an impatient listener. "That's a dangerous line, Campbell," he said, "it is indeed; I can't go along with you. It will never do to say that the Church is failing; no, it never fails. It is always strong, and pure, and perfect, as the Prophets describe it. Look at its cathedrals, abbey-churches, and other sanctuaries, these fitly typify it." "My dear Bateman," answered Campbell, "I am as willing as you to maintain the fulfilment of the prophecies made to the Church, but we must allow the _fact_ that the branches of the Church are _divided_, while we maintain the _doctrine_, that the Church should be one." "I don't see that at all," answered Bateman; "no, we need not allow it. There's no such thing as Churches, there's but one Church everywhere, and it is _not_ divided. It is merely the outward forms, appearances, manifestations of the Church that are divided. The Church is one as much as ever it was." "That will never do," said Campbell; and he stood up before the fire in

courses

How many times the word 'courses' appears in the text?

Both existed before Christianity; both are of Pagan origin; both were afterwards consecrated to the service of the Church." "Pardon me," interrupted Bateman, "Gregorians were Jewish, not Pagan." "Be it so, for argument sake," said Campbell; "still, at least, they were not of Christian origin. Next, both the old music and the old architecture were inartificial and limited, as methods of exhibiting their respective arts. You can't have a large Grecian temple, you can't have a long Gregorian _Gloria_." "Not a long one!" said Bateman; "why there's poor Willis used to complain how tedious the old Gregorian compositions were abroad." "I don't explain myself," answered Campbell; "of course you may produce them to any length, but merely by addition, not by carrying on the melody. You can put two together, and then have one twice as long as either. But I speak of a musical piece, which must of course be the natural development of certain ideas, with one part depending on another. In like manner, you might make an Ionic temple twice as long or twice as wide as the Parthenon; but you would lose the beauty of proportion by doing so. This, then, is what I meant to say of the primitive architecture and the primitive music, that they soon come to their limit; they soon are exhausted, and can do nothing more. If you attempt more, it's like taxing a musical instrument beyond its powers." "You but try, Bateman," said Reding, "to make a bass play quadrilles, and you will see what is meant by taxing an instrument." "Well, I have heard Lindley play all sorts of quick tunes on his bass," said Bateman, "and most wonderful it is." "Wonderful is the right word," answered Reding; "it is very wonderful. You say, 'How _can_ he manage it?' and 'It's very wonderful for a bass;' but it is not pleasant in itself. In like manner, I have always felt a disgust when Mr. So-and-so comes forward to make his sweet flute bleat and bray like a hautbois; it's forcing the poor thing to do what it was never made for." "This is literally true as regards Gregorian music," said Campbell; "instruments did not exist in primitive times which could execute any other. But I am speaking under correction; Mr. Reding seems to know more about the subject than I do." "I have always understood, as you say," answered Charles, "modern music did not come into existence till after the powers of the violin became known. Corelli himself, who wrote not two hundred years ago, hardly ventures on the shift. The piano, again, I have heard, has almost given birth to Beethoven." "Modern music, then, could not be in ancient times, for want of modern instruments," said Campbell; "and, in like manner, Gothic architecture could not exist until vaulting was brought to perfection. Great mechanical inventions have taken place, both in architecture and in music, since the age of basilicas and Gregorians; and each science has gained by it." "It is curious enough," said Reding, "one thing I have been accustomed to say, quite falls in with this view of yours. When people who are not musicians have accused Handel and Beethoven of not being _simple_, I have always said, 'Is Gothic architecture _simple_?' A cathedral expresses one idea, but it is indefinitely varied and elaborated in its parts; so is a symphony or quartett of Beethoven." "Certainly, Bateman, you must tolerate Pagan architecture, or you must in consistency exclude Pagan or Jewish Gregorians," said Campbell; "you must tolerate figured music, or reprobate tracery windows." "And which are you for," asked Bateman, "Gothic with Handel, or Roman with Gregorians?" "For both in their place," answered Campbell. "I exceedingly prefer Gothic architecture to classical. I think it the one true child and development of Christianity; but I won't, for that reason, discard the Pagan style which has been sanctified by eighteen centuries, by the exclusive love of many Christian countries, and by the sanction of a host of saints. I am for toleration. Give Gothic an ascendancy; be respectful towards classical." The conversation slackened. "Much as I like modern music," said Charles, "I can't quite go the length to which your doctrine would lead me. I cannot, indeed, help liking Mozart; but surely his music is not religious." "I have not been speaking in defence of particular composers," said Campbell; "figured music may be right, yet Mozart or Beethoven inadmissible. In like manner, you don't suppose, because I tolerate Roman architecture, that therefore I like naked cupids to stand for cherubs, and sprawling women for the cardinal virtues." He paused. "Besides," he added, "as you were saying yourself just now, we must consult the genius of our country and the religious associations of our people." "Well," said Bateman, "I think the perfection of sacred music is Gregorian set to harmonies; there you have the glorious old chants, and just a little modern richness." "And I think it just the worst of all," answered Campbell; "it is a mixture of two things, each good in itself, and incongruous together. It's a mixture of the first and second courses at table. It's like the architecture of the fa ade at Milan, half Gothic, half Grecian." "It's what is always used, I believe," said Charles. "Oh yes, we must not go against the age," said Campbell; "it would be absurd to do so. I only spoke of what was right and wrong on abstract principles; and, to tell the truth, I can't help liking the mixture myself, though I can't defend it." Bateman rang for tea; his friends wished to return home soon; it was the month of January, and no season for after-dinner strolls. "Well," he said, "Campbell, you are more lenient to the age than to me; you yield to the age when it sets a figured bass to a Gregorian tone; but you laugh at me for setting a coat upon a cassock." "It's no honour to be the author of a mongrel type," said Campbell. "A mongrel type?" said Bateman; "rather it is a transition state." "What are you passing to?" asked Charles. "Talking of transitions," said Campbell abruptly, "do you know that your man Willis--I don't know his college, he turned Romanist--is living in my parish, and I have hopes he is making a transition back again." "Have you seen him?" said Charles. "No; I have called, but was unfortunate; he was out. He still goes to mass, I find." "Why, where does he find a chapel?" asked Bateman. "At Seaton. A good seven miles from you," said Charles. "Yes," answered Campbell; "and he walks to and fro every Sunday." "That is not like a transition, except a physical one," observed Reding. "A person must go somewhere," answered Campbell; "I suppose he went to church up to the week he joined the Romanists." "Very awful, these defections," said Bateman; "but very satisfactory, a melancholy satisfaction," with a look at Charles, "that the victims of delusions should be at length recovered." "Yes," said Campbell; "very sad indeed. I am afraid we must expect a number more." "Well, I don't know how to think it," said Charles; "the hold our Church has on the mind is so powerful; it is such a wrench to leave it, I cannot fancy any party-tie standing against it. Humanly speaking, there is far, far more to keep them fast than to carry them away." "Yes, if they moved as a party," said Campbell; "but that is not the case. They don't move simply because others move, but, poor fellows, because they can't help it.--Bateman, will you let my chaise be brought round?--How _can_ they help it?" continued he, standing up over the fire; "their Catholic principles lead them on, and there's nothing to drive them back." "Why should not their love for their own Church?" asked Bateman; "it is deplorable, unpardonable." "They will keep going one after another, as they ripen," said Campbell. "Did you hear the report--I did not think much of it myself," said Reding,--"that Smith was moving?" "Not impossible," answered Campbell thoughtfully. "Impossible, quite impossible," cried Bateman; "such a triumph to the enemy; I'll not believe it till I see it." "_Not_ impossible," repeated Campbell, as he buttoned and fitted his great-coat about him; "he has shifted his ground." His carriage was announced. "Mr. Reding, I believe I can take you part of your way, if you will accept of a seat in my pony-chaise." Charles accepted the offer; and Bateman was soon deserted by his two guests. CHAPTER XVII. Campbell put Charles down about half-way between Melford and his home. It was bright moonlight; and, after thanking his new friend for the lift, he bounded over the stile at the side of the road, and was at once buried in the shade of the copse along which his path lay. Soon he came in sight of a tall wooden Cross, which, in better days, had been a religious emblem, but had served in latter times to mark the boundary between two contiguous parishes. The moon was behind him, and the sacred symbol rose awfully in the pale sky, overhanging a pool, which was still venerated in the neighbourhood for its reported miraculous virtue. Charles, to his surprise, saw distinctly a man kneeling on the little mound out of which the Cross grew; nay, heard him, for his shoulders were bare, and he was using the discipline upon them, while he repeated what appeared to be some form of devotion. Charles stopped, unwilling to interrupt, yet not knowing how to pass; but the stranger had caught the sound of feet, and in a few seconds vanished from his view. He was overcome with a sudden emotion, which he could not control. "O happy times," he cried, "when faith was one! O blessed penitent, whoever you are, who know what to believe, and how to gain pardon, and can begin where others end! Here am I, in my twenty-third year, uncertain about everything, because I have nothing to trust." He drew near to the Cross, took off his hat, knelt down and kissed the wood, and prayed awhile that whatever might be the consequences, whatever the trial, whatever the loss, he might have grace to follow whithersoever God should call him. He then rose and turned to the cold well; he took some water in his palm and drank it. He felt as if he could have prayed to the Saint who owned that pool--St. Thomas the Martyr, he believed--to plead for him, and to aid him in his search after the true faith; but something whispered, "It is wrong;" and he checked the wish. So, regaining his hat, he passed away, and pursued his homeward path at a brisk pace. The family had retired for the night, and he went up without delay to his bedroom. Passing through his study, he found a letter lying on his table, without post-mark, which had come for him in his absence. He broke the seal; it was an anonymous paper, and began as follows:-- "_Questions for one whom it concerns._ 1. What is meant by the One Church of which the Creed speaks?" "This is too much for to-night," thought Charles, "it is late already;" and he folded it up again and threw it on his dressing-table. "Some well-meaning person, I dare say, who thinks he knows me." He wound up his watch, gave a yawn, and put on his slippers. "Who can there be in this neighbourhood to write it?" He opened it again. "It's certainly a Catholic's writing," he said. His mind glanced to the person whom he had seen under the Cross; perhaps it glanced further. He sat down and began reading _in extenso:_-- "_Questions for one whom it concerns._ 1. What is meant by the One Church of which the Creed speaks? 2. Is it a generalization or a thing? 3. Does it belong to past history or to the present time? 4. Does not Scripture speak of it as a kingdom? 5. And a kingdom which was to last to the end? 6. What is a kingdom? and what is meant when Scripture calls the Church a kingdom? 7. Is it a visible kingdom, or an invisible? 8. Can a kingdom have two governments, and these acting in contrary directions? 9. Is identity of institutions, opinions, or race, sufficient to make two nations one kingdom? 10. Is the Episcopal form, the hierarchy, or the Apostles' Creed, sufficient to make the Churches of Rome and of England one? 11. Where there are parts, does not unity require union, and a visible unity require a visible union? 12. How can two religions be the same which have utterly distinct worships and ideas of worship? 13. Can two religions be one, if the most sacred and peculiar act of worship in the one is called 'a blasphemous fable and dangerous deceit' in the other? 14. Has not the One Church of Christ one faith? 15. Can a Church be Christ's which has not one faith? 16. Which is contradictory to itself in its documents? 17. And in different centuries? 18. And in its documents contrasted with its divines? 19. And in its divines and members one with another? 20. What is _the_ faith of the English Church? 21. How many Councils does the English Church admit? 22. Does the English Church consider the present Nestorian and Jacobite Churches under an anathema, or part of the visible Church? 23. Is it necessary, or possible, to believe any one but a professed messenger from God? 24. Is the English Church, does she claim to be, a messenger from God? 25. Does she impart the truth, or bid us seek it? 26. If she leaves us to seek it, do members of the English Church seek it with that earnestness which Scripture enjoins? 27. Is a person safe who lives without faith, even though he seems to have hope and charity?" Charles got very sleepy before he reached the "twenty-seventhly." "It won't do," he said; "I am only losing my time. They seem well put; but they must stand over." He put the paper from him, said his prayers, and was soon fast asleep. Next morning, on waking, the subject of the letter came into his mind, and he lay for some time thinking over it. "Certainly," he said, "I do wish very much to be settled either in the English Church or somewhere else. I wish I knew _what_ Christianity was; I am ready to be at pains to seek it, and would accept it eagerly and thankfully, if found. But it's a work of time; all the paper-arguments in the world are unequal to giving one a view in a moment. There must be a process; they may shorten it, as medicine shortens physical processes, but they can't supersede its necessity. I recollect how all my religious doubts and theories went to flight on my dear father's death. They weren't part of me, and could not sustain rough weather. Conviction is the eyesight of the mind, not a conclusion from premises; God works it, and His works are slow. At least so it is with me. I can't believe on a sudden; if I attempt it, I shall be using words for things, and be sure to repent it. Or if not, I shall go right merely by hazard. I must move in what seems God's way; I can but put myself on the road; a higher power must overtake me, and carry me forward. At present I have a direct duty upon me, which my dear father left me, to take a good class. This is the path of duty. I won't put off the inquiry, but I'll let it proceed in that path. God can bless my reading to my spiritual illumination, as well as anything else. Saul sought his father's asses, and found a kingdom. All in good time. When I have taken my degree the subject will properly come on me." He sighed. "My degree! those odious Articles! rather, when I have passed my examination. Well, it's no good lying here;" and he jumped up, and signed himself with the Cross. His eye caught the letter. "It's well written--better than Willis could write; it's not Willis's. There's something about that Willis I don't understand. I wonder how he and his mother get on together. I don't think he _has_ any sisters." CHAPTER XVIII. Campbell had been much pleased with Reding, and his interest in him was not lessened by a hint from Bateman that his allegiance to the English Church was in danger. He called on him in no long time, asked him to dinner, and, when Charles had returned his invitation, and Campbell had accepted it, the beginning of an acquaintance was formed between the rectory at Sutton and the family at Boughton which grew into an intimacy as time went on. Campbell was a gentleman, a travelled man, of clear head and ardent mind, candid, well-read in English divinity, a devoted Anglican, and the incumbent of a living so well endowed as almost to be a dignity. Mary was pleased at the introduction, as bringing her brother under the influence of an intellect which he could not make light of; and, as Campbell had a carriage, it was natural that he should wish to save Charles the loss of a day's reading and the trouble of a muddy walk to the rectory and back by coming over himself to Boughton. Accordingly it so happened that he saw Charles twice at his mother's for once that he saw him at Sutton. But whatever came of these visits, nothing occurred which particularly bears upon the line of our narrative; so let them pass. One day Charles called upon Bateman, and, on entering the room, was surprised to see him and Campbell at luncheon, and in conversation with a third person. There was a moment's surprise and hesitation on seeing him before they rose and welcomed him as usual. When he looked at the stranger he felt a slight awkwardness himself, which he could not control. It was Willis; and apparently submitted to the process of reconversion. Charles was evidently _de trop_, but there was no help for it; so he shook hands with Willis, and accepted the pressing call of Bateman to seat himself at table, and to share their bread and cheese. Charles sat down opposite Willis, and for a while could not keep his eyes from him. At first he had some difficulty in believing he had before him the impetuous youth he had known two years and a half before. He had always been silent in general company; but in that he was changed, as in everything else. Not that he talked more than was natural, but he talked freely and easily. The great change, however, was in his appearance and manner. He had lost his bloom and youthfulness; his expression was sweeter indeed than before, and very placid, but there was a thin line down his face on each side of his mouth; his cheeks were wanting in fulness, and he had the air of a man of thirty. When he entered into conversation, and became animated, his former self returned. "I suppose we may all admire this cream at this season," said Charles, as he helped himself, "for we are none of us Devonshire men." "It's not peculiar to Devonshire," answered Campbell; "that is, they have it abroad. At Rome there is a sort of cream or cheese very like it, and very common." "Will butter and cream keep in so warm a climate?" asked Charles; "I fancied oil was the substitute." "Rome is not so warm as you fancy," said Willis, "except during the summer." "Oil? so it is," said Campbell; "thus we read in Scripture of the multiplication of the oil and meal, which seems to answer to bread and butter. The oil in Rome is excellent, so clear and pale; you can eat it as milk." "The taste, I suppose, is peculiar," observed Charles. "Just at first," answered Campbell; "but one soon gets used to it. All such substances, milk, butter, cheese, oil, have a particular taste at first, which use alone gets over. The rich Guernsey butter is too much for strangers, while Russians relish whale-oil. Most of our tastes are in a measure artificial." "It is certainly so with vegetables," said Willis; "when I was a boy I could not eat beans, spinach, asparagus, parsnips, and I think some others." "Therefore your hermit's fare is not only the most natural, but the only naturally palatable, I suppose,--a crust of bread and a draught from the stream," replied Campbell. "Or the Clerk of Copmanhurst's dry peas," said Charles. "The macaroni and grapes of the Neapolitans are as natural and more palatable," said Willis. "Rather they are a luxury," said Bateman. "No," answered Campbell, "not a luxury; a luxury is in its very idea a something _recherch _. Thus Horace speaks of the '_peregrina lagois_.' What nature yields _sponte su _ around you, however delicious, is no luxury. Wild ducks are no luxury in your old neighbourhood, amid your Oxford fens, Bateman; nor grapes at Naples." "Then the old women here are luxurious over their sixpenn'rth of tea," said Bateman; "for it comes from China." Campbell was posed for an instant. Somehow neither he nor Bateman were quite at their ease, whether with themselves or with each other; it might be Charles's sudden intrusion, or something which had happened before it. Campbell answered at length that steamers and railroads were making strange changes; that time and place were vanishing, and price would soon be the only measure of luxury. "This seems the measure also of _grasso_ and _magro_ food in Italy," said Willis; "for I think there are dispensations for butcher's meat in Lent, in consequence of the dearness of bread and oil." "This seems to show that the age for abstinences and fastings is past," observed Campbell; "for it's absurd to keep Lent on beef and mutton." "Oh, Campbell, what are you saying?" cried Bateman; "past! are we bound by their lax ways in Italy?" "I do certainly think," answered Campbell, "that fasting is unsuitable to this age, in England as well as in Rome." "Take care, my fine fellows," thought Charles; "keep your ranks, or you won't secure your prisoner." "What, not fast on Friday!" cried Bateman; "we always did so most rigidly at Oxford." "It does you credit," answered Campbell; "but I am of Cambridge." "But what do you say to Rubrics and the Calendar?" insisted Bateman. "They are not binding," answered Campbell. "They _are_, binding," said Bateman. A pause, as between the rounds of a boxing-match. Reding interposed: "Bateman, cut me, please, a bit of your capital bread--home-made, I suppose?" "A thousand pardons!" said Bateman:--"not binding?--Pass it to him, Willis, if you please. Yes, it comes from a farmer, next door. I'm glad you like it.--I repeat, they _are_ binding, Campbell." "An odd sort of binding, when they have never bound," answered Campbell; "they have existed two or three hundred years; when were they ever put in force?" "But there they are," said Bateman, "in the Prayer Book." "Yes, and there let them lie and never get out of it," retorted Campbell; "there they will stay till the end of the story." "Oh, for shame!" cried Bateman; "you should aid your mother in a difficulty, and not be like the priest and the Levite." "My mother does not wish to be aided," continued Campbell. "Oh, how you talk! What shall I do? What can be done?" cried poor Bateman. "Done! nothing," said Campbell; "is there no such thing as the desuetude of a law? Does not a law cease to be binding when it is not enforced? I appeal to Mr. Willis." Willis, thus addressed, answered that he was no moral theologian, but he had attended some schools, and he believed it was the Catholic rule that when a law had been promulgated, and was not observed by the majority, if the legislator knew the state of the case, and yet kept silence, he was considered _ipso facto_ to revoke it. "What!" said Bateman to Campbell, "do you appeal to the Romish Church?" "No," answered Campbell; "I appeal to the whole Catholic Church, of which the Church of Rome happens in this particular case to be the exponent. It is plain common sense, that, if a law is not enforced, at length it ceases to be binding. Else it would be quite a tyranny; we should not know where we were. The Church of Rome does but give expression to this common-sense view." "Well, then," said Bateman, "I will appeal to the Church of Rome too. Rome is part of the Catholic Church as well as we: since, then, the Romish Church has ever kept up fastings the ordinance is not abolished; the 'greater part' of the Catholic Church has always observed it." "But it has not," said Campbell; "it now dispenses with fasts, as you have heard." Willis interposed to ask a question. "Do you mean then," he said to Bateman, "that the Church of England and the Church of Rome make one Church?" "Most certainly," answered Bateman. "Is it possible?" said Willis; "in what sense of the word _one_?" "In every sense," answered Bateman, "but that of intercommunion." "That is, I suppose," said Willis, "they are one, except that they have no intercourse with each other." Bateman assented. Willis continued: "No intercourse; that is, no social dealings, no consulting or arranging, no ordering and obeying, no mutual support; in short, no visible union." Bateman still assented. "Well, that is my difficulty," said Willis; "I can't understand how two parts can make up one visible body if they are not visibly united; unity implies _union_." "I don't see that at all," said Bateman; "I don't see that at all. No, Willis, you must not expect I shall give that up to you; it is one of our points. There is only one visible Church, and therefore the English and Romish Churches are both parts of it." Campbell saw clearly that Bateman had got into a difficulty, and he came to the rescue in his own way. "We must distinguish," he said, "the state of the case more exactly. A kingdom may be divided, it may be distracted by parties, by dissensions, yet be still a kingdom. That, I conceive, is the real condition of the Church; in this way the Churches of England, Rome, and Greece are one." "I suppose you will grant," said Willis, "that in proportion as a rebellion is strong, so is the unity of the kingdom threatened; and if a rebellion is successful, or if the parties in a civil war manage to divide the power and territory between them, then forthwith, instead of one kingdom, we have two. Ten or fifteen years since, Belgium was part of the kingdom of the Netherlands: I suppose you would not call it part of that kingdom now? This seems the case of the Churches of Rome and England." "Still, a kingdom may be in a state of decay," replied Campbell; "consider the case of the Turkish Empire at this moment. The Union between its separate portions is so languid, that each separate Pasha may almost be termed a separate sovereign; still it is one kingdom." "The Church, then, at present," said Willis, "is a kingdom tending to dissolution?" "Certainly it is," answered Campbell. "And will ultimately fail?" asked Willis. "Certainly," said Campbell; "when the end comes, according to our Lord's saying, 'When the Son of man cometh, shall He find faith on the earth?' just as in the case of the chosen people, the sceptre failed from Judah when the Shiloh came." "Surely the Church has failed already _before_ the end," said Willis, "according to the view you take of failing. How _can_ any separation be more complete than exists at present between Rome, Greece, and England?" "They might excommunicate each other," said Campbell. "Then you are willing," said Willis, "to assign beforehand something definite, the occurrence of which will constitute a real separation." "Don't do so," said Reding to Campbell; "it is dangerous; don't commit yourself in a moral question; for then, if the thing specified did occur, it would be difficult to see our way." "No," said Willis; "you certainly _would_ be in a difficulty; but you would find your way out, I know. In that case you would choose some other _ultimatum_ as your test of schism. There would be," he added, speaking with some emotion, "'in the lowest depth a lower still.'" The concluding words were out of keeping with the tone of the conversation hitherto, and fairly excited Bateman, who, for some time, had been an impatient listener. "That's a dangerous line, Campbell," he said, "it is indeed; I can't go along with you. It will never do to say that the Church is failing; no, it never fails. It is always strong, and pure, and perfect, as the Prophets describe it. Look at its cathedrals, abbey-churches, and other sanctuaries, these fitly typify it." "My dear Bateman," answered Campbell, "I am as willing as you to maintain the fulfilment of the prophecies made to the Church, but we must allow the _fact_ that the branches of the Church are _divided_, while we maintain the _doctrine_, that the Church should be one." "I don't see that at all," answered Bateman; "no, we need not allow it. There's no such thing as Churches, there's but one Church everywhere, and it is _not_ divided. It is merely the outward forms, appearances, manifestations of the Church that are divided. The Church is one as much as ever it was." "That will never do," said Campbell; and he stood up before the fire in

theories

How many times the word 'theories' appears in the text?

Both existed before Christianity; both are of Pagan origin; both were afterwards consecrated to the service of the Church." "Pardon me," interrupted Bateman, "Gregorians were Jewish, not Pagan." "Be it so, for argument sake," said Campbell; "still, at least, they were not of Christian origin. Next, both the old music and the old architecture were inartificial and limited, as methods of exhibiting their respective arts. You can't have a large Grecian temple, you can't have a long Gregorian _Gloria_." "Not a long one!" said Bateman; "why there's poor Willis used to complain how tedious the old Gregorian compositions were abroad." "I don't explain myself," answered Campbell; "of course you may produce them to any length, but merely by addition, not by carrying on the melody. You can put two together, and then have one twice as long as either. But I speak of a musical piece, which must of course be the natural development of certain ideas, with one part depending on another. In like manner, you might make an Ionic temple twice as long or twice as wide as the Parthenon; but you would lose the beauty of proportion by doing so. This, then, is what I meant to say of the primitive architecture and the primitive music, that they soon come to their limit; they soon are exhausted, and can do nothing more. If you attempt more, it's like taxing a musical instrument beyond its powers." "You but try, Bateman," said Reding, "to make a bass play quadrilles, and you will see what is meant by taxing an instrument." "Well, I have heard Lindley play all sorts of quick tunes on his bass," said Bateman, "and most wonderful it is." "Wonderful is the right word," answered Reding; "it is very wonderful. You say, 'How _can_ he manage it?' and 'It's very wonderful for a bass;' but it is not pleasant in itself. In like manner, I have always felt a disgust when Mr. So-and-so comes forward to make his sweet flute bleat and bray like a hautbois; it's forcing the poor thing to do what it was never made for." "This is literally true as regards Gregorian music," said Campbell; "instruments did not exist in primitive times which could execute any other. But I am speaking under correction; Mr. Reding seems to know more about the subject than I do." "I have always understood, as you say," answered Charles, "modern music did not come into existence till after the powers of the violin became known. Corelli himself, who wrote not two hundred years ago, hardly ventures on the shift. The piano, again, I have heard, has almost given birth to Beethoven." "Modern music, then, could not be in ancient times, for want of modern instruments," said Campbell; "and, in like manner, Gothic architecture could not exist until vaulting was brought to perfection. Great mechanical inventions have taken place, both in architecture and in music, since the age of basilicas and Gregorians; and each science has gained by it." "It is curious enough," said Reding, "one thing I have been accustomed to say, quite falls in with this view of yours. When people who are not musicians have accused Handel and Beethoven of not being _simple_, I have always said, 'Is Gothic architecture _simple_?' A cathedral expresses one idea, but it is indefinitely varied and elaborated in its parts; so is a symphony or quartett of Beethoven." "Certainly, Bateman, you must tolerate Pagan architecture, or you must in consistency exclude Pagan or Jewish Gregorians," said Campbell; "you must tolerate figured music, or reprobate tracery windows." "And which are you for," asked Bateman, "Gothic with Handel, or Roman with Gregorians?" "For both in their place," answered Campbell. "I exceedingly prefer Gothic architecture to classical. I think it the one true child and development of Christianity; but I won't, for that reason, discard the Pagan style which has been sanctified by eighteen centuries, by the exclusive love of many Christian countries, and by the sanction of a host of saints. I am for toleration. Give Gothic an ascendancy; be respectful towards classical." The conversation slackened. "Much as I like modern music," said Charles, "I can't quite go the length to which your doctrine would lead me. I cannot, indeed, help liking Mozart; but surely his music is not religious." "I have not been speaking in defence of particular composers," said Campbell; "figured music may be right, yet Mozart or Beethoven inadmissible. In like manner, you don't suppose, because I tolerate Roman architecture, that therefore I like naked cupids to stand for cherubs, and sprawling women for the cardinal virtues." He paused. "Besides," he added, "as you were saying yourself just now, we must consult the genius of our country and the religious associations of our people." "Well," said Bateman, "I think the perfection of sacred music is Gregorian set to harmonies; there you have the glorious old chants, and just a little modern richness." "And I think it just the worst of all," answered Campbell; "it is a mixture of two things, each good in itself, and incongruous together. It's a mixture of the first and second courses at table. It's like the architecture of the fa ade at Milan, half Gothic, half Grecian." "It's what is always used, I believe," said Charles. "Oh yes, we must not go against the age," said Campbell; "it would be absurd to do so. I only spoke of what was right and wrong on abstract principles; and, to tell the truth, I can't help liking the mixture myself, though I can't defend it." Bateman rang for tea; his friends wished to return home soon; it was the month of January, and no season for after-dinner strolls. "Well," he said, "Campbell, you are more lenient to the age than to me; you yield to the age when it sets a figured bass to a Gregorian tone; but you laugh at me for setting a coat upon a cassock." "It's no honour to be the author of a mongrel type," said Campbell. "A mongrel type?" said Bateman; "rather it is a transition state." "What are you passing to?" asked Charles. "Talking of transitions," said Campbell abruptly, "do you know that your man Willis--I don't know his college, he turned Romanist--is living in my parish, and I have hopes he is making a transition back again." "Have you seen him?" said Charles. "No; I have called, but was unfortunate; he was out. He still goes to mass, I find." "Why, where does he find a chapel?" asked Bateman. "At Seaton. A good seven miles from you," said Charles. "Yes," answered Campbell; "and he walks to and fro every Sunday." "That is not like a transition, except a physical one," observed Reding. "A person must go somewhere," answered Campbell; "I suppose he went to church up to the week he joined the Romanists." "Very awful, these defections," said Bateman; "but very satisfactory, a melancholy satisfaction," with a look at Charles, "that the victims of delusions should be at length recovered." "Yes," said Campbell; "very sad indeed. I am afraid we must expect a number more." "Well, I don't know how to think it," said Charles; "the hold our Church has on the mind is so powerful; it is such a wrench to leave it, I cannot fancy any party-tie standing against it. Humanly speaking, there is far, far more to keep them fast than to carry them away." "Yes, if they moved as a party," said Campbell; "but that is not the case. They don't move simply because others move, but, poor fellows, because they can't help it.--Bateman, will you let my chaise be brought round?--How _can_ they help it?" continued he, standing up over the fire; "their Catholic principles lead them on, and there's nothing to drive them back." "Why should not their love for their own Church?" asked Bateman; "it is deplorable, unpardonable." "They will keep going one after another, as they ripen," said Campbell. "Did you hear the report--I did not think much of it myself," said Reding,--"that Smith was moving?" "Not impossible," answered Campbell thoughtfully. "Impossible, quite impossible," cried Bateman; "such a triumph to the enemy; I'll not believe it till I see it." "_Not_ impossible," repeated Campbell, as he buttoned and fitted his great-coat about him; "he has shifted his ground." His carriage was announced. "Mr. Reding, I believe I can take you part of your way, if you will accept of a seat in my pony-chaise." Charles accepted the offer; and Bateman was soon deserted by his two guests. CHAPTER XVII. Campbell put Charles down about half-way between Melford and his home. It was bright moonlight; and, after thanking his new friend for the lift, he bounded over the stile at the side of the road, and was at once buried in the shade of the copse along which his path lay. Soon he came in sight of a tall wooden Cross, which, in better days, had been a religious emblem, but had served in latter times to mark the boundary between two contiguous parishes. The moon was behind him, and the sacred symbol rose awfully in the pale sky, overhanging a pool, which was still venerated in the neighbourhood for its reported miraculous virtue. Charles, to his surprise, saw distinctly a man kneeling on the little mound out of which the Cross grew; nay, heard him, for his shoulders were bare, and he was using the discipline upon them, while he repeated what appeared to be some form of devotion. Charles stopped, unwilling to interrupt, yet not knowing how to pass; but the stranger had caught the sound of feet, and in a few seconds vanished from his view. He was overcome with a sudden emotion, which he could not control. "O happy times," he cried, "when faith was one! O blessed penitent, whoever you are, who know what to believe, and how to gain pardon, and can begin where others end! Here am I, in my twenty-third year, uncertain about everything, because I have nothing to trust." He drew near to the Cross, took off his hat, knelt down and kissed the wood, and prayed awhile that whatever might be the consequences, whatever the trial, whatever the loss, he might have grace to follow whithersoever God should call him. He then rose and turned to the cold well; he took some water in his palm and drank it. He felt as if he could have prayed to the Saint who owned that pool--St. Thomas the Martyr, he believed--to plead for him, and to aid him in his search after the true faith; but something whispered, "It is wrong;" and he checked the wish. So, regaining his hat, he passed away, and pursued his homeward path at a brisk pace. The family had retired for the night, and he went up without delay to his bedroom. Passing through his study, he found a letter lying on his table, without post-mark, which had come for him in his absence. He broke the seal; it was an anonymous paper, and began as follows:-- "_Questions for one whom it concerns._ 1. What is meant by the One Church of which the Creed speaks?" "This is too much for to-night," thought Charles, "it is late already;" and he folded it up again and threw it on his dressing-table. "Some well-meaning person, I dare say, who thinks he knows me." He wound up his watch, gave a yawn, and put on his slippers. "Who can there be in this neighbourhood to write it?" He opened it again. "It's certainly a Catholic's writing," he said. His mind glanced to the person whom he had seen under the Cross; perhaps it glanced further. He sat down and began reading _in extenso:_-- "_Questions for one whom it concerns._ 1. What is meant by the One Church of which the Creed speaks? 2. Is it a generalization or a thing? 3. Does it belong to past history or to the present time? 4. Does not Scripture speak of it as a kingdom? 5. And a kingdom which was to last to the end? 6. What is a kingdom? and what is meant when Scripture calls the Church a kingdom? 7. Is it a visible kingdom, or an invisible? 8. Can a kingdom have two governments, and these acting in contrary directions? 9. Is identity of institutions, opinions, or race, sufficient to make two nations one kingdom? 10. Is the Episcopal form, the hierarchy, or the Apostles' Creed, sufficient to make the Churches of Rome and of England one? 11. Where there are parts, does not unity require union, and a visible unity require a visible union? 12. How can two religions be the same which have utterly distinct worships and ideas of worship? 13. Can two religions be one, if the most sacred and peculiar act of worship in the one is called 'a blasphemous fable and dangerous deceit' in the other? 14. Has not the One Church of Christ one faith? 15. Can a Church be Christ's which has not one faith? 16. Which is contradictory to itself in its documents? 17. And in different centuries? 18. And in its documents contrasted with its divines? 19. And in its divines and members one with another? 20. What is _the_ faith of the English Church? 21. How many Councils does the English Church admit? 22. Does the English Church consider the present Nestorian and Jacobite Churches under an anathema, or part of the visible Church? 23. Is it necessary, or possible, to believe any one but a professed messenger from God? 24. Is the English Church, does she claim to be, a messenger from God? 25. Does she impart the truth, or bid us seek it? 26. If she leaves us to seek it, do members of the English Church seek it with that earnestness which Scripture enjoins? 27. Is a person safe who lives without faith, even though he seems to have hope and charity?" Charles got very sleepy before he reached the "twenty-seventhly." "It won't do," he said; "I am only losing my time. They seem well put; but they must stand over." He put the paper from him, said his prayers, and was soon fast asleep. Next morning, on waking, the subject of the letter came into his mind, and he lay for some time thinking over it. "Certainly," he said, "I do wish very much to be settled either in the English Church or somewhere else. I wish I knew _what_ Christianity was; I am ready to be at pains to seek it, and would accept it eagerly and thankfully, if found. But it's a work of time; all the paper-arguments in the world are unequal to giving one a view in a moment. There must be a process; they may shorten it, as medicine shortens physical processes, but they can't supersede its necessity. I recollect how all my religious doubts and theories went to flight on my dear father's death. They weren't part of me, and could not sustain rough weather. Conviction is the eyesight of the mind, not a conclusion from premises; God works it, and His works are slow. At least so it is with me. I can't believe on a sudden; if I attempt it, I shall be using words for things, and be sure to repent it. Or if not, I shall go right merely by hazard. I must move in what seems God's way; I can but put myself on the road; a higher power must overtake me, and carry me forward. At present I have a direct duty upon me, which my dear father left me, to take a good class. This is the path of duty. I won't put off the inquiry, but I'll let it proceed in that path. God can bless my reading to my spiritual illumination, as well as anything else. Saul sought his father's asses, and found a kingdom. All in good time. When I have taken my degree the subject will properly come on me." He sighed. "My degree! those odious Articles! rather, when I have passed my examination. Well, it's no good lying here;" and he jumped up, and signed himself with the Cross. His eye caught the letter. "It's well written--better than Willis could write; it's not Willis's. There's something about that Willis I don't understand. I wonder how he and his mother get on together. I don't think he _has_ any sisters." CHAPTER XVIII. Campbell had been much pleased with Reding, and his interest in him was not lessened by a hint from Bateman that his allegiance to the English Church was in danger. He called on him in no long time, asked him to dinner, and, when Charles had returned his invitation, and Campbell had accepted it, the beginning of an acquaintance was formed between the rectory at Sutton and the family at Boughton which grew into an intimacy as time went on. Campbell was a gentleman, a travelled man, of clear head and ardent mind, candid, well-read in English divinity, a devoted Anglican, and the incumbent of a living so well endowed as almost to be a dignity. Mary was pleased at the introduction, as bringing her brother under the influence of an intellect which he could not make light of; and, as Campbell had a carriage, it was natural that he should wish to save Charles the loss of a day's reading and the trouble of a muddy walk to the rectory and back by coming over himself to Boughton. Accordingly it so happened that he saw Charles twice at his mother's for once that he saw him at Sutton. But whatever came of these visits, nothing occurred which particularly bears upon the line of our narrative; so let them pass. One day Charles called upon Bateman, and, on entering the room, was surprised to see him and Campbell at luncheon, and in conversation with a third person. There was a moment's surprise and hesitation on seeing him before they rose and welcomed him as usual. When he looked at the stranger he felt a slight awkwardness himself, which he could not control. It was Willis; and apparently submitted to the process of reconversion. Charles was evidently _de trop_, but there was no help for it; so he shook hands with Willis, and accepted the pressing call of Bateman to seat himself at table, and to share their bread and cheese. Charles sat down opposite Willis, and for a while could not keep his eyes from him. At first he had some difficulty in believing he had before him the impetuous youth he had known two years and a half before. He had always been silent in general company; but in that he was changed, as in everything else. Not that he talked more than was natural, but he talked freely and easily. The great change, however, was in his appearance and manner. He had lost his bloom and youthfulness; his expression was sweeter indeed than before, and very placid, but there was a thin line down his face on each side of his mouth; his cheeks were wanting in fulness, and he had the air of a man of thirty. When he entered into conversation, and became animated, his former self returned. "I suppose we may all admire this cream at this season," said Charles, as he helped himself, "for we are none of us Devonshire men." "It's not peculiar to Devonshire," answered Campbell; "that is, they have it abroad. At Rome there is a sort of cream or cheese very like it, and very common." "Will butter and cream keep in so warm a climate?" asked Charles; "I fancied oil was the substitute." "Rome is not so warm as you fancy," said Willis, "except during the summer." "Oil? so it is," said Campbell; "thus we read in Scripture of the multiplication of the oil and meal, which seems to answer to bread and butter. The oil in Rome is excellent, so clear and pale; you can eat it as milk." "The taste, I suppose, is peculiar," observed Charles. "Just at first," answered Campbell; "but one soon gets used to it. All such substances, milk, butter, cheese, oil, have a particular taste at first, which use alone gets over. The rich Guernsey butter is too much for strangers, while Russians relish whale-oil. Most of our tastes are in a measure artificial." "It is certainly so with vegetables," said Willis; "when I was a boy I could not eat beans, spinach, asparagus, parsnips, and I think some others." "Therefore your hermit's fare is not only the most natural, but the only naturally palatable, I suppose,--a crust of bread and a draught from the stream," replied Campbell. "Or the Clerk of Copmanhurst's dry peas," said Charles. "The macaroni and grapes of the Neapolitans are as natural and more palatable," said Willis. "Rather they are a luxury," said Bateman. "No," answered Campbell, "not a luxury; a luxury is in its very idea a something _recherch _. Thus Horace speaks of the '_peregrina lagois_.' What nature yields _sponte su _ around you, however delicious, is no luxury. Wild ducks are no luxury in your old neighbourhood, amid your Oxford fens, Bateman; nor grapes at Naples." "Then the old women here are luxurious over their sixpenn'rth of tea," said Bateman; "for it comes from China." Campbell was posed for an instant. Somehow neither he nor Bateman were quite at their ease, whether with themselves or with each other; it might be Charles's sudden intrusion, or something which had happened before it. Campbell answered at length that steamers and railroads were making strange changes; that time and place were vanishing, and price would soon be the only measure of luxury. "This seems the measure also of _grasso_ and _magro_ food in Italy," said Willis; "for I think there are dispensations for butcher's meat in Lent, in consequence of the dearness of bread and oil." "This seems to show that the age for abstinences and fastings is past," observed Campbell; "for it's absurd to keep Lent on beef and mutton." "Oh, Campbell, what are you saying?" cried Bateman; "past! are we bound by their lax ways in Italy?" "I do certainly think," answered Campbell, "that fasting is unsuitable to this age, in England as well as in Rome." "Take care, my fine fellows," thought Charles; "keep your ranks, or you won't secure your prisoner." "What, not fast on Friday!" cried Bateman; "we always did so most rigidly at Oxford." "It does you credit," answered Campbell; "but I am of Cambridge." "But what do you say to Rubrics and the Calendar?" insisted Bateman. "They are not binding," answered Campbell. "They _are_, binding," said Bateman. A pause, as between the rounds of a boxing-match. Reding interposed: "Bateman, cut me, please, a bit of your capital bread--home-made, I suppose?" "A thousand pardons!" said Bateman:--"not binding?--Pass it to him, Willis, if you please. Yes, it comes from a farmer, next door. I'm glad you like it.--I repeat, they _are_ binding, Campbell." "An odd sort of binding, when they have never bound," answered Campbell; "they have existed two or three hundred years; when were they ever put in force?" "But there they are," said Bateman, "in the Prayer Book." "Yes, and there let them lie and never get out of it," retorted Campbell; "there they will stay till the end of the story." "Oh, for shame!" cried Bateman; "you should aid your mother in a difficulty, and not be like the priest and the Levite." "My mother does not wish to be aided," continued Campbell. "Oh, how you talk! What shall I do? What can be done?" cried poor Bateman. "Done! nothing," said Campbell; "is there no such thing as the desuetude of a law? Does not a law cease to be binding when it is not enforced? I appeal to Mr. Willis." Willis, thus addressed, answered that he was no moral theologian, but he had attended some schools, and he believed it was the Catholic rule that when a law had been promulgated, and was not observed by the majority, if the legislator knew the state of the case, and yet kept silence, he was considered _ipso facto_ to revoke it. "What!" said Bateman to Campbell, "do you appeal to the Romish Church?" "No," answered Campbell; "I appeal to the whole Catholic Church, of which the Church of Rome happens in this particular case to be the exponent. It is plain common sense, that, if a law is not enforced, at length it ceases to be binding. Else it would be quite a tyranny; we should not know where we were. The Church of Rome does but give expression to this common-sense view." "Well, then," said Bateman, "I will appeal to the Church of Rome too. Rome is part of the Catholic Church as well as we: since, then, the Romish Church has ever kept up fastings the ordinance is not abolished; the 'greater part' of the Catholic Church has always observed it." "But it has not," said Campbell; "it now dispenses with fasts, as you have heard." Willis interposed to ask a question. "Do you mean then," he said to Bateman, "that the Church of England and the Church of Rome make one Church?" "Most certainly," answered Bateman. "Is it possible?" said Willis; "in what sense of the word _one_?" "In every sense," answered Bateman, "but that of intercommunion." "That is, I suppose," said Willis, "they are one, except that they have no intercourse with each other." Bateman assented. Willis continued: "No intercourse; that is, no social dealings, no consulting or arranging, no ordering and obeying, no mutual support; in short, no visible union." Bateman still assented. "Well, that is my difficulty," said Willis; "I can't understand how two parts can make up one visible body if they are not visibly united; unity implies _union_." "I don't see that at all," said Bateman; "I don't see that at all. No, Willis, you must not expect I shall give that up to you; it is one of our points. There is only one visible Church, and therefore the English and Romish Churches are both parts of it." Campbell saw clearly that Bateman had got into a difficulty, and he came to the rescue in his own way. "We must distinguish," he said, "the state of the case more exactly. A kingdom may be divided, it may be distracted by parties, by dissensions, yet be still a kingdom. That, I conceive, is the real condition of the Church; in this way the Churches of England, Rome, and Greece are one." "I suppose you will grant," said Willis, "that in proportion as a rebellion is strong, so is the unity of the kingdom threatened; and if a rebellion is successful, or if the parties in a civil war manage to divide the power and territory between them, then forthwith, instead of one kingdom, we have two. Ten or fifteen years since, Belgium was part of the kingdom of the Netherlands: I suppose you would not call it part of that kingdom now? This seems the case of the Churches of Rome and England." "Still, a kingdom may be in a state of decay," replied Campbell; "consider the case of the Turkish Empire at this moment. The Union between its separate portions is so languid, that each separate Pasha may almost be termed a separate sovereign; still it is one kingdom." "The Church, then, at present," said Willis, "is a kingdom tending to dissolution?" "Certainly it is," answered Campbell. "And will ultimately fail?" asked Willis. "Certainly," said Campbell; "when the end comes, according to our Lord's saying, 'When the Son of man cometh, shall He find faith on the earth?' just as in the case of the chosen people, the sceptre failed from Judah when the Shiloh came." "Surely the Church has failed already _before_ the end," said Willis, "according to the view you take of failing. How _can_ any separation be more complete than exists at present between Rome, Greece, and England?" "They might excommunicate each other," said Campbell. "Then you are willing," said Willis, "to assign beforehand something definite, the occurrence of which will constitute a real separation." "Don't do so," said Reding to Campbell; "it is dangerous; don't commit yourself in a moral question; for then, if the thing specified did occur, it would be difficult to see our way." "No," said Willis; "you certainly _would_ be in a difficulty; but you would find your way out, I know. In that case you would choose some other _ultimatum_ as your test of schism. There would be," he added, speaking with some emotion, "'in the lowest depth a lower still.'" The concluding words were out of keeping with the tone of the conversation hitherto, and fairly excited Bateman, who, for some time, had been an impatient listener. "That's a dangerous line, Campbell," he said, "it is indeed; I can't go along with you. It will never do to say that the Church is failing; no, it never fails. It is always strong, and pure, and perfect, as the Prophets describe it. Look at its cathedrals, abbey-churches, and other sanctuaries, these fitly typify it." "My dear Bateman," answered Campbell, "I am as willing as you to maintain the fulfilment of the prophecies made to the Church, but we must allow the _fact_ that the branches of the Church are _divided_, while we maintain the _doctrine_, that the Church should be one." "I don't see that at all," answered Bateman; "no, we need not allow it. There's no such thing as Churches, there's but one Church everywhere, and it is _not_ divided. It is merely the outward forms, appearances, manifestations of the Church that are divided. The Church is one as much as ever it was." "That will never do," said Campbell; and he stood up before the fire in

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Bound Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS BOUND Written by Larry & Andy Wachowski FADE IN: Inside a closet. It is a large closet with double doors, a crisp line of light cutting down through the center of the darkness. As we begin to descend, voices echo in our head. VIOLET (V.O.) I had this image of you, inside of me, like a part of me. We move past a shelf filled with hatboxes and handbags. It is a woman's closet. CORKY (V.O.) You planned this whole thing, didn't you? CAESAR (V.O.) Where's the fucking money? We glide over the tightly packed hangers, close enough to feel the different fabrics and descend past the dresses to the racks of high heels. VIOLET (V.O.) We make our own choices, we pay our own prices. CAESAR (V.O.) All part of the business. VIOLET (V.O.) All part of the business. CORKY (V.O.) What choice? We slide along the delicate taper of a stiletto heel and reach the bottom of the closet, where we find a pair of black Dr. Martens boots that are tied together with a white rope. VIOLET (V.O.) I want out. We move up the boots and we see it is a woman who is bound, lying motionless on the floor of the closet, the rope coiling tightly around her wrists. The crack at the bottom of the door lights her face. She is gagged and unconscious, a trickle of blood running down her forehead. Her name is CORKY. VIOLET (V.O.) Like a part of me. CUT TO: INT. ELEVATOR - DAY Leaning against the back of the elevator is Corky, a very butch-looking woman with short hair and a black leather jacket. She is a lesbian and wants people to know it. As the doors begin to slide shut, a woman yells. WOMAN Wait! Hold the elevator. Corky pushes the "open" button. A couple steps into the elevator. His name is CAESAR, a middle-aged Italian, wearing an expensive suit and sunglasses. She is VIOLET; a piece of sexual candy that would melt in your mouth. She hears it again, a guttural sound. CORKY Thanks again for this opportunity, Mr. Bianchinni. Goodbye. She hangs up the phone and walks toward the wall. As she gets closer, we hear a bed rocking, tapping against the wall. The man's breathing grows more and more labored until finally it swells -- DISSOLVING INTO: INT. BATHROOM - MORNING The whining motor of a high-powered drain-rod. The spiral cable whips wildly, spiraling deeper into the tub drain, black goo splattering everywhere. The machine is so loud Corky almost cannot hear someone pounding on the apartment door. Killing the motor, she stands and goes to the door. Behind the door is Violet, wearing jeans, a white T-shirt and cowboy boots. VIOLET Hi. My name is Violet. We sort of met in the elevator -- CORKY Yeah, sure. I'm Corky. VIOLET I heard you working in here and I just wondered if you'd like a cup of coffee? She is holding two cups of coffee: one black, one with cream. CORKY Sure. Come on in. Give me a minute. Violet steps inside as Corky goes back to the bathroom to wash off the drain dreck. VIOLET What happened to Rajeev? Corky calls from the bathroom, scrubbing her hands vigorously. CORKY Who? VIOLET Rajeev, the man who usually works on the building. CORKY Oh, he went home to India, but as far as I know he'll be back. She wipes her hands on her overalls, returning to the main room. VIOLET So this is temporary for you? CORKY Pretty much. One day at a time. Violet hands her the cup of black coffee. VIOLET I guessed you were straight black. CORKY Good guess. They both sip from the piping hot mugs. CORKY Mmmm ... thanks, I needed this. VIOLET My pleasure ... but to be honest, I did have a slightly ulterior motive here. I was wondering if I could ask a small favor? CORKY A favor? VIOLET Yeah, see, I'm kind of a night person, so I was wondering if it wasn't a terrible inconvenience if you could wait a bit before using power tools. CORKY Oh, I'm sorry -- VIOLET No, it isn't your fault. The walls here are just so thin. CORKY Are they really? VIOLET Yes, it really causes problems. Sometimes it's like you're in the same room. But if it's too much trouble, I understand ... CORKY No, no trouble. There's other work to do. VIOLET You're doing everything yourself? CORKY Yeah. VIOLET That is so amazing. I'm in awe of people who can fix things. My dad was like that. We never had anything new. Whenever something broke he would open it up, tinker with it and it would work. His hands were magic. She looks at Corky's hands cupped around the mug. VIOLET Yeah ... I bet your car is twenty years old. Corky smiles. CORKY Truck. VIOLET Truck. Of course. CORKY '63 Chevy. VIOLET I knew it. VIOLET SIPS VIOLET So, how do you know the owner, Mr. Bianchinni? CORKY I don't, really. I was referred to him. VIOLET Oh, really. Corky suddenly feels she has revealed something. CORKY Do you know him? VIOLET No, but Caesar does. He likes him. Says he's a good Italian. CORKY Caesar is your husband? VIOLET Oh no, no. I'm not the marrying kind. Smiling, she says nothing else. VIOLET I should be going. You can drop the cup off anytime. CORKY Thanks. VIOLET My pleasure. CORKY watches her leave. EXT. THE WATERING HOLE - NIGHT A dirty bar hidden away on a dark street, its cracked, moon- white sign the only evidence it exists. Corky's truck swings into a space in front of a couple of large motorcycles. She flips her collar and heads for the door. INT. THE WATERING HOLE - NIGHT The smell of leather and cigarette smoke fills Corky's nose as she crosses to the bar. BARTENDER Well, well ... Corky sits as the fat bartender waddles over. BARTENDER Been awhile, Cork. CORKY Five years, two months, sixteen days. How you doing, Sue? Corky puts a cigarette in her mouth and lights it. SUE Like shit. Now that we're all caught up, how about a drink? Sue opens the refrigerator and pulls out two Old Styles. CORKY Thanks. They click the bottles together and drink. SUE You got a job yet? CORKY Yeah. Some plumbing, painting and shit. Sue laughs. SUE I mean a J-O-B. A real job. CORKY Not for me, Sue. I'm straight and narrow. I'm just here to get laid or drunk and hopefully both. Corky gets off the stool. CORKY Thanks for the beer. Looking around, she sees a woman alone at one of the back tables. Through the smoky din, she bears a slight resemblance to Violet. The woman is dressed all in black, including a leather jacket. Smiling, Corky slides into the chair beside her. There is no one smoother. CORKY Hi. WOMAN Hello. CORKY You know ... that outfit would look great on my bedroom floor. The woman smiles just as someone taps Corky on the shoulder. She turns and is face-to-face with a large bull of a woman in a heavy leather Chicago Police jacket. She is more wide than fat. WOMAN COP Hey, Jesse. What's happening here? CORKY Nothing ... yet. WOMAN COP Who's this? Her coat opens as she puts her hands on her hips. A service revolver is clipped to her belt. She squints at Corky, her head nodding in recognition. WOMAN COP Wait, I know you. CORKY I don't think so. WOMAN COP I didn't know you were out. Corky smiles at the woman in black. CORKY When you get tired of Cagney and Lacey, come find me. She heads for the exit. EXT. CITY STREET - NIGHT The neighborhood would be politely described as "rough." Corky's truck does not stand out parked alone on the littered street. INT. CORKY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT It is a hole but it is home. Corky is lying on her futon staring up at the ceiling, a beer resting on her stomach; a folk singer quietly croons from the radio. We see the ceiling, a circle of light hovering over the small desk lamp. We move in on the spot, which slowly fills up the screen until there is nothing but the white light. Suddenly a wet paint roller loaded with white paint cuts a swath across the ceiling. MATCH CUT TO: INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - DAY Corky is painting the ceiling. The folk ballad has become an angry Riot Grrrl anthem. She is working hard, the roller sucking back and forth. Sweat covers her face. Dropping the roller down, she reloads it in the tray when the phone rings. She stops and answers it. CORKY Hello? Oh, hi, Mr. Bianchinni ... yes, everything is going fine. I got the tub drain all cleaned out. She listens for a moment. CORKY What apartment? She glances at the main wall. CORKY All right, all right, I guess I could take a look. Yeah, you're welcome, goodbye. She hangs up and looks again at the wall, feeling... curious. INT. HALL - NIGHT Corky knocks and after a moment Violet opens the door. She seems surprised. VIOLET Oh no. Shit. I didn't know he would call you. God, you must think |I'm a total nuisance. CORKY Not exactly. VIOLET I'm sorry, I usually would call Rajeev, but I didn't know what to do so I called Mr. Bianchinni. CORKY He said you lost something. VIOLET Yeah, come on in. She steps back and Corky walks inside. INT. CAESAR'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Violet leads her through the apartment. It is expensively furnished with very masculine tastes; a lot of gray and black leather. VIOLET I was doing some dishes and just as I pulled the stopper my earring fell in. Corky looks at her blankly. VIOLET It's one of my favorites. That's why I got upset. I know it probably seems ridiculous to you. An eyebrow goes up. VIOLET I'm sorry, look, forget it. I shouldn't have called... CORKY I told Bianchinni I would take a look. Is it that sink? Violet nods. She opens the sink cabinet and pulls out a pair of channel locks from her back pocket. The teeth of the channel locks open and bite onto the pressure nut. CORKY Do you have a pot or a bucket? VIOLET Sure. She hands one down to her. Corky slides it under the curved pipe. As she works, Corky feels herself staring at Violet, at the hem of her dress curving tightly around her thighs. Water begins to trickle into the pan. The nut slides loose and Corky tips the trap. Water splashes into the pan with a soft metal "tink." VIOLET Did you find it? Corky fishes into gray water and pulls out the earring. Violet screams, a huge smile on her face, half-falling as she tries to hug Corky. VIOLET I can't believe it! You did it! Corky leans back under and replaces the trap. VIOLET Thank you so much. You have to let me pay you something -- CORKY No. Mr. Bianchinni asked me to do it. I did it. Corky checks the drain by running the water. VIOLET If you won't take money, how about a drink? It's getting late. You can't work all night. Corky eyes her for a moment. CORKY Okay, one drink. VIOLET What do you want? CORKY A beer? VIOLET A beer. Of course. She smiles and turns to the bar. VIOLET Sit down. Corky sits on the black leather couch and Violet returns with two bottles of Heineken. Corky sneers. VIOLET Thanks again. They clink the bottles and swig. VIOLET You seem uncomfortable. Do I make you nervous, Corky? CORKY No. She looks at Violet, then takes another long pull on the bottle. VIOLET Thirsty, maybe. Violet smiles, her eyes again talking for her. CORKY Curious, maybe. VIOLET Curious? That's funny, I'm feeling a bit curious myself right now. Violet notices the tattoo on Corky's arm. VIOLET That's a great tattoo. She reaches over and touches it. VIOLET Beautiful labrys. Corky is a bit suprised that she knows what it is. She nods, rubbing it as if trying to hide it. VIOLET Are you surprised that I know what it is? CORKY Maybe. VIOLET I have a tattoo, would you like to see it? She moves closer, sliding over the leather cushions as she opens the front of her dress. VIOLET A woman in upstate New York did it for me. She is not wearing a bra. VIOLET Here. Do you like it? Set against the soft white skin of her breast is a bright green-stemmed violet. VIOLET It took her all day to do it. She promised me it wouldn't hurt, but it was sore for a long time after. I couldn't even touch it. Corky looks up from Violet's breast to her dark eyes. VIOLET But now I love the way it feels. She runs her fingers softly over the slightly scarred skin. VIOLET Here, touch it. Corky feels the blood pounding in her ears as Violet takes her hand and places it on her breast. CORKY What are you doing? Violet looks at her. VIOLET Isn't it obvious? I'm trying to seduce you. CORKY Why? VIOLET Because I want to. I've wanted to since I first saw you in the elevator. Corky watches her, trying to figure her out even as her thumb presses into Violet's nipple. Inhaling sharply, Violet closes her eyes; she can feel Corky staring at her. VIOLET You don't believe me. But I can prove it to you. She takes Corky's wrist and begins pulling her hand down her body. VIOLET You can't believe me because of what you see ... She forces Corky's hand between her legs, up under her dress. VIOLET But you can believe what you feel. Violet opens her eyes, a wanton smile on her lips. VIOLET You see ... I've been thinking about you all day. Corky's forearm flexes and Violet moans. With both hands, Violet takes hold of Corky's forearm. CORKY You planned this whole thing? Violet's head swims; she is unable to breathe. CORKY You dropped that earring down the drain on purpose, didn't you? VIOLET If I say yes, will you take your hand away? CORKY No. VIOLET ... yes. Now it is Corky who smiles. Violet shivers, her thighs rubbing, her hips thrusting against Corky's hand. VIOLET Please, Corky ... please ... Her eyes barely open. VIOLET ... kiss me. In a single motion, Corky takes hold of the back of her neck and covers Violet's open mouth with her own. With her hand still stuffed between Violet's legs, Corky lays her back onto the couch as the kiss becomes more -- More desperate, more hungry until -- We hear the front door unlock and open. CAESAR Violet? Violet's eyes pop open and she pushes Corky back. CAESAR Violet, you home? They scramble to compose themselves. VIOLET Yeah. In here, C. He comes around the corner and in the dim light sees the two figures sitting close on the couch. CAESAR What's this? He mistakes Corky for a man. CAESAR What the fuck is this? Violet stands as Caesar barrels toward the couch. VIOLET I didn't expect -- CAESAR What the fuck is going on? Corky stands and turns, Caesar suddenly realizing that she is a woman. CAESAR Oh, shit ... VIOLET Caesar, this is Corky. Corky, Caesar. CAESAR I'm sorry, Christ, I thought ... it's fucking dark in here. He reaches to the wall for the lights. VIOLET She is working for Bianchinni. Caesar extends his hand. CAESAR Oh, right, right. Don mentioned that to me. Hi, welcome to the family. Corky shakes his hand. CAESAR You're helping Rajeev? CORKY No. Rajeev's in India. VIOLET She's doing the work herself. CAESAR No shit. Bianchinni hired you? You know he's a good friend of mine. |Family, really. CORKY That's what Violet said. He looks at her as if he knows something. CAESAR So, you just got out? VIOLET Jesus, Caesar! CAESAR What? It ain't no big fuckin' deal. I know who Don hires. Did you know he did time himself? Corky shakes her head. CAESAR Thirteen fucking years. See, there ain't no secrets here. Corky doesn't like this man. CAESAR How many'd you do? CORKY Five. He whistles. CAESAR Not bad. What for? VIOLET That's none of your goddamn business, Caesar. CAESAR You're right. You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to. I just hope you understand you're among good people here. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a thick fold of money and peels several hundreds. Corky stares at it. CAESAR Come on, come on. if you understand what I'm talking about you're going to take the money. if you don't, I'm going to have to worry about you. Corky takes it. Caesar smiles. CAESAR Good. I hate to worry. I got ulcers. CORKY I should be going. CAESAR What? How about a drink? CORKY My brushes, I have to clean my brushes. Thanks, though. CAESAR Another time. CORKY Sure. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - NIGHT Close on the paintbrush, Corky's fingers pushing through and separating the black bristles under the running water. When the brush is clean, she flicks it dry and resets the edge. She goes to the sink to wash her hands when she stops, noticing her left hand. It is the hand that was between Violet's legs. She is about to smell her finger when she sees herself in the mirror. CORKY What are you doing? She drops her hand. CORKY What am I doing? I'm fucking up, that's what I'm doing. She scrubs her hands clean. EXT. PARKING LOT - NIGHT It is late, the area burnished with amber street light. Corky walks from the building to her truck. She climbs inside and slides the key into the ignition, when suddenly the passenger door opens and -- Violet gets in. Stunned, Corky stares at her. VIOLET I had to see you. CORKY Look, I don't think this is a good idea. VIOLET I wanted to apologize. CORKY Don't apologize, please. I can't stand women who apologize for wanting sex. Violet smiles. VIOLET I'm not apologizing for what I did -- She slides across the seat. VIOLET I'm apologizing for what I didn't do. She kisses Corky, and if Corky is trying to resist, we can't tell. The windshield is beginning to steam when Violet, panting, breaks the kiss. VIOLET Do you have a bed somewhere? Unable to speak, Corky reaches over and starts the engine. INT. CORKY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT The sex. There is nothing flower-scented or out-of-focus about it. It is sweaty, slippery, body-grinding, bed-squeaking lesbian sex -- Pungent and potent -- And when it is over, neither woman can move. Finally, Corky's eyes flutter open. CORKY I can see again. Violet smiles. Slowly, Corky gets up and goes to the fridge. She grabs a beer and presses it to her sweating forebead. After a moment, she lowers it, gently pressing the cold can elsewhere. Eyes closed, she lets out a long "Ahh." Violet hears the sizzle-pop of the beer as Corky returns to the bed. She holds the beer to Violet's lips and tilts the can, watching Violet's throat as she drinks. Violet's eyes open. VIOLET ... I needed that. CORKY Tell me about it. Corky hands her the beer as Violet sits up a bit. CORKY Caesar's Mafia, isn't he? VIOLET You have to ask? CORKY No. VIOLET Funny, nobody calls it that anymore. Caesar calls it "The |Business." CORKY How did you meet him? VIOLET They took over a club I was working at. Caesar started managing it. CORKY He's a launderer? VIOLET Basically. CORKY How long have you been with him? VIOLET Almost five years. CORKY Five years is a long time. VIOLET Yes, it is. Corky stares at her beer. She knows what Violet is thinking. CORKY The redistribution of wealth. VIOLET What? CORKY Isn't that what you wanted to know? What I did time for? VIOLET The redistribution of wealth? CORKY That's what I tell someone when I'm trying to get them in my bed. VIOLET I'm already in your bed. CORKY My cellmate would say she did her time for getting caught. She was always more honest than me. Corky sips her beer. CORKY I started stealing when I was little. We were piss-poor, which is not an excuse, just a fact. It isn't like her to talk about this, especially with someone she just met. CORKY The first time I remember so vividly. A bunch of us kids were at Waxman's Drugstore, when Mr. Waxman, who was a mean old prick, always worrying about us robbing him, dropped a roll of quarters. We can almost hear the coins tinkling on the tile floor. CORKY I can still hear that sound, those quarters, because right then something clicked inside of me. Some instinct took over and as everyone, including Waxman, dove down, I reached up and emptied the cash register. Violet smiles. She likes this woman. CORKY I gave most of the money to my mom. I told her I found it at the trainyard. She was so happy she cried, calling me her lucky charm. Fifteen years later, I guess my luck ran out. Sbe swallows that with beer. CORKY Sometimes I tell myself that I didn't have a choice, that stealing was surviving. Usually I can admit that's bullshit. I did it because it was a way out. It was easy and I was good at it, real good. She glances at Violet. CORKY I don't usually talk this much. I guess I have been rehabilitated. Violet laughs. VIOLET You didn't have to tell me if you didn't want to. CORKY I guess I wanted to. VIOLET I'm glad you did. CORKY So am I. EXT. PARKING LOT DAY Corky gets out of her truck carrying her tools. Grinning like someone who has been well-laid, she whistles off to work. EXT. LOBBY - DAY Between the main doors she sees a man. His name is SHELLY and he is an overdressed accountant. He is very nervous, talking to someone through the intercom. SHELLY I know he's gone. Please. I have to talk to you. Fiddling with her keys, Corky recognizes the voice that answers him. VIOLET (V.O.) What do you want, Shelly? Shelly glances over his shoulder at Corky, answering in a hushed voice. SHELLY I have to leave. Tonight. For a moment the intercom is silent. Then the door buzzes and Shelly pushes inside. Corky follows him to the elevator. INT. ELEVATOR - DAY Corky glares at Shelly and begins pumping the trigger of her circular saw. Shelly hides behind his sunglasses, watching the elevator numbers go up. The doors open and he scurries out. INT. HALL - DAY She watches him enter Caesar's apartment, her smile now completely gone. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - DAY It is later. Through the wall we listen to the same sound as before of two people making love. We drop down and find Corky's brush, still wet with paint, abandoned in her tray. INT. BEDROOM - DAY Her face glistening with sweat, Violet climaxes, letting the orgasm spread through her like melting butter. VIOLET I had this image of you, inside of me ... She flattens her palms against the soft cradle of her pelvis. VIOLET Like a part of me ... As she opens her eyes, we see that her lover is Corky. Violet watches as she gets off the bed and begins to get dressed. VIOLET You are so beautiful. Corky does not answer as she yanks her pants on. Violet sits up. She can feel that something is wrong. VIOLET What's wrong? CORKY Nothing. Violet pulls the sheet around her. VIOLET Yes there is. I felt it this morning when I brought you the coffee. CORKY Shit, here we go. VIOLET You didn't want to see me, did you? CORKY If there is one thing I can't stand about sleeping with women, it's all the fucking mind reading. VIOLET What are you afraid of? CORKY I'm not afraid of anything. VIOLET I don't understand - ? CORKY I know! You can't understand, because we're different, Violet. We're different. VIOLET We're not that different, Corky. CORKY How can you sit in that bed and say that? VIOLET Because it's the truth. CORKY Let me guess. This is where you tell me that what matters is on the inside. That inside you, there is a little dyke just like me? VIOLET Oh no, she's nothing like you. She's a lot smarter than you. CORKY Is that what her daddy tells her? VIOLET I know what I am. I don't need to have it tattooed on my shoulder. CORKY What are you saying? That you don't have sex with men? VIOLET I don't. CORKY For Christ's sake, Violet! I heard you! Thin walls, remember? VIOLET What you heard wasn't sex. CORKY What the fuck was it? VIOLET All my life, everyone has been telling me that when I have sex, I'm not really having sex. Not real sex. But they're wrong. I know what is and isn't sex and what you heard was definitely not sex. CORKY What was it then? VIOLET Work. That knocks Corky back. VIOLET You made certain choices in your life that you paid for. You said you made them because you were good at something and it was easy. Do you think you're the only one that's good at something? Violet stare pins Corky to the wall. VIOLET We make our own choices and we pay our own prices. I think we're more alike than you want to admit. CORKY What about that guy this morning? VIOLET You mean Shelly? CORKY Don't tell me, you're a workaholic. VIOLET No. Shelly knows what I am. He saw me in a bar with another woman. CORKY I suppose he just wants to watch. That's all Violet can take. VIOLET Fuck it! I think you better leave. CORKY I think so, too. Violet turns away. VIOLET Try not to steal anything on the way out. That stings but Corky walks out without looking back. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - NIGHT It is dark now. Corky is standing above the paint tray that has skinned over. She picks up the brush. It is dry with paint. CORKY Shit. She throws the brush across the room. EXT. CAESAR'S APARTMENT BUILDING - DAY A green-and-white street sign juts in the foreground of Caesar's upscale apartment building. The sign reads: "FRANKLIN STREET." EXT. PARKING LOT - DAY The rusty Chevy glides to a stop in a parking space near the service entrance. In its payload is a boxed bathroom vanity and sink. Corky climbs out of the cab and into the back, unhooking the bungee cords that hold down the boxes. She looks up as a black Lincoln Town Car screeches into a spot not far from her truck. THREE SERIOUS-LOOKING MEN get out, leading a fourth, Shelly. He is the only one who seems to notice Corky. They enter the building, the door closing behind them. INT. BATHROOM - DAY Corky's legs jut out from the old wicker vanity as she finishes detaching its anchors and pipe work. She stands, giving it a yank and pulling it away from the wall, when voices begin to filter in from the next-door apartment. She listens - a rising string of warbling sobs drowned out by an angry voice. ANGRY VOICE Shut the fuck up! You piece of shit! We hear a scream. ANGRY VOICE You're going to tell us! You're going to fuckin' tell us! just a matter of fuckin' time! Each sentence is punctuated with grunts and thuds. ANGRY VOICE Where is it? Where the fuck is it?! We begin to close in on Corky as she listens to each thud, watching something that disturbs her. ANGRY VOICE You shit! You piece of shit! With each thud the water in the toilet shimmers like a struck cymbal. As we move closer, the sound swells until -- MATCH CUT TO: INT. CAESAR'S BATHROOM DAY Where blood splatters the toilet, heavy drops hitting the water and spreading like inverted mushroom clouds. ANGRY VOICE Did that hurt? News flash, fucko: I'm just getting started. The angry voice belongs to JOHNNIE MARZZONE. Shelly is kneeling in front of the toilet, hands tied behind his back with electrical wire. Johnnie Marzzone is a flashy young man in Armani slacks, silk shirt and silver-tipped cowboy boots. His tie is tucked in, as if torture were a fine-dining experience. Caesar and two other men are crammed in the small bathroom. JOHNNIE You got nerve trying to fuck us! Nobody fucks me! Nobody fucks my father! Nobody! Nobody! Shelly screams as Jobnnie repeatedly rams his face into the toilet. CAESAR Whoa, whoa. Come on, he's making too much noise.

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Bound Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS BOUND Written by Larry & Andy Wachowski FADE IN: Inside a closet. It is a large closet with double doors, a crisp line of light cutting down through the center of the darkness. As we begin to descend, voices echo in our head. VIOLET (V.O.) I had this image of you, inside of me, like a part of me. We move past a shelf filled with hatboxes and handbags. It is a woman's closet. CORKY (V.O.) You planned this whole thing, didn't you? CAESAR (V.O.) Where's the fucking money? We glide over the tightly packed hangers, close enough to feel the different fabrics and descend past the dresses to the racks of high heels. VIOLET (V.O.) We make our own choices, we pay our own prices. CAESAR (V.O.) All part of the business. VIOLET (V.O.) All part of the business. CORKY (V.O.) What choice? We slide along the delicate taper of a stiletto heel and reach the bottom of the closet, where we find a pair of black Dr. Martens boots that are tied together with a white rope. VIOLET (V.O.) I want out. We move up the boots and we see it is a woman who is bound, lying motionless on the floor of the closet, the rope coiling tightly around her wrists. The crack at the bottom of the door lights her face. She is gagged and unconscious, a trickle of blood running down her forehead. Her name is CORKY. VIOLET (V.O.) Like a part of me. CUT TO: INT. ELEVATOR - DAY Leaning against the back of the elevator is Corky, a very butch-looking woman with short hair and a black leather jacket. She is a lesbian and wants people to know it. As the doors begin to slide shut, a woman yells. WOMAN Wait! Hold the elevator. Corky pushes the "open" button. A couple steps into the elevator. His name is CAESAR, a middle-aged Italian, wearing an expensive suit and sunglasses. She is VIOLET; a piece of sexual candy that would melt in your mouth. She hears it again, a guttural sound. CORKY Thanks again for this opportunity, Mr. Bianchinni. Goodbye. She hangs up the phone and walks toward the wall. As she gets closer, we hear a bed rocking, tapping against the wall. The man's breathing grows more and more labored until finally it swells -- DISSOLVING INTO: INT. BATHROOM - MORNING The whining motor of a high-powered drain-rod. The spiral cable whips wildly, spiraling deeper into the tub drain, black goo splattering everywhere. The machine is so loud Corky almost cannot hear someone pounding on the apartment door. Killing the motor, she stands and goes to the door. Behind the door is Violet, wearing jeans, a white T-shirt and cowboy boots. VIOLET Hi. My name is Violet. We sort of met in the elevator -- CORKY Yeah, sure. I'm Corky. VIOLET I heard you working in here and I just wondered if you'd like a cup of coffee? She is holding two cups of coffee: one black, one with cream. CORKY Sure. Come on in. Give me a minute. Violet steps inside as Corky goes back to the bathroom to wash off the drain dreck. VIOLET What happened to Rajeev? Corky calls from the bathroom, scrubbing her hands vigorously. CORKY Who? VIOLET Rajeev, the man who usually works on the building. CORKY Oh, he went home to India, but as far as I know he'll be back. She wipes her hands on her overalls, returning to the main room. VIOLET So this is temporary for you? CORKY Pretty much. One day at a time. Violet hands her the cup of black coffee. VIOLET I guessed you were straight black. CORKY Good guess. They both sip from the piping hot mugs. CORKY Mmmm ... thanks, I needed this. VIOLET My pleasure ... but to be honest, I did have a slightly ulterior motive here. I was wondering if I could ask a small favor? CORKY A favor? VIOLET Yeah, see, I'm kind of a night person, so I was wondering if it wasn't a terrible inconvenience if you could wait a bit before using power tools. CORKY Oh, I'm sorry -- VIOLET No, it isn't your fault. The walls here are just so thin. CORKY Are they really? VIOLET Yes, it really causes problems. Sometimes it's like you're in the same room. But if it's too much trouble, I understand ... CORKY No, no trouble. There's other work to do. VIOLET You're doing everything yourself? CORKY Yeah. VIOLET That is so amazing. I'm in awe of people who can fix things. My dad was like that. We never had anything new. Whenever something broke he would open it up, tinker with it and it would work. His hands were magic. She looks at Corky's hands cupped around the mug. VIOLET Yeah ... I bet your car is twenty years old. Corky smiles. CORKY Truck. VIOLET Truck. Of course. CORKY '63 Chevy. VIOLET I knew it. VIOLET SIPS VIOLET So, how do you know the owner, Mr. Bianchinni? CORKY I don't, really. I was referred to him. VIOLET Oh, really. Corky suddenly feels she has revealed something. CORKY Do you know him? VIOLET No, but Caesar does. He likes him. Says he's a good Italian. CORKY Caesar is your husband? VIOLET Oh no, no. I'm not the marrying kind. Smiling, she says nothing else. VIOLET I should be going. You can drop the cup off anytime. CORKY Thanks. VIOLET My pleasure. CORKY watches her leave. EXT. THE WATERING HOLE - NIGHT A dirty bar hidden away on a dark street, its cracked, moon- white sign the only evidence it exists. Corky's truck swings into a space in front of a couple of large motorcycles. She flips her collar and heads for the door. INT. THE WATERING HOLE - NIGHT The smell of leather and cigarette smoke fills Corky's nose as she crosses to the bar. BARTENDER Well, well ... Corky sits as the fat bartender waddles over. BARTENDER Been awhile, Cork. CORKY Five years, two months, sixteen days. How you doing, Sue? Corky puts a cigarette in her mouth and lights it. SUE Like shit. Now that we're all caught up, how about a drink? Sue opens the refrigerator and pulls out two Old Styles. CORKY Thanks. They click the bottles together and drink. SUE You got a job yet? CORKY Yeah. Some plumbing, painting and shit. Sue laughs. SUE I mean a J-O-B. A real job. CORKY Not for me, Sue. I'm straight and narrow. I'm just here to get laid or drunk and hopefully both. Corky gets off the stool. CORKY Thanks for the beer. Looking around, she sees a woman alone at one of the back tables. Through the smoky din, she bears a slight resemblance to Violet. The woman is dressed all in black, including a leather jacket. Smiling, Corky slides into the chair beside her. There is no one smoother. CORKY Hi. WOMAN Hello. CORKY You know ... that outfit would look great on my bedroom floor. The woman smiles just as someone taps Corky on the shoulder. She turns and is face-to-face with a large bull of a woman in a heavy leather Chicago Police jacket. She is more wide than fat. WOMAN COP Hey, Jesse. What's happening here? CORKY Nothing ... yet. WOMAN COP Who's this? Her coat opens as she puts her hands on her hips. A service revolver is clipped to her belt. She squints at Corky, her head nodding in recognition. WOMAN COP Wait, I know you. CORKY I don't think so. WOMAN COP I didn't know you were out. Corky smiles at the woman in black. CORKY When you get tired of Cagney and Lacey, come find me. She heads for the exit. EXT. CITY STREET - NIGHT The neighborhood would be politely described as "rough." Corky's truck does not stand out parked alone on the littered street. INT. CORKY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT It is a hole but it is home. Corky is lying on her futon staring up at the ceiling, a beer resting on her stomach; a folk singer quietly croons from the radio. We see the ceiling, a circle of light hovering over the small desk lamp. We move in on the spot, which slowly fills up the screen until there is nothing but the white light. Suddenly a wet paint roller loaded with white paint cuts a swath across the ceiling. MATCH CUT TO: INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - DAY Corky is painting the ceiling. The folk ballad has become an angry Riot Grrrl anthem. She is working hard, the roller sucking back and forth. Sweat covers her face. Dropping the roller down, she reloads it in the tray when the phone rings. She stops and answers it. CORKY Hello? Oh, hi, Mr. Bianchinni ... yes, everything is going fine. I got the tub drain all cleaned out. She listens for a moment. CORKY What apartment? She glances at the main wall. CORKY All right, all right, I guess I could take a look. Yeah, you're welcome, goodbye. She hangs up and looks again at the wall, feeling... curious. INT. HALL - NIGHT Corky knocks and after a moment Violet opens the door. She seems surprised. VIOLET Oh no. Shit. I didn't know he would call you. God, you must think |I'm a total nuisance. CORKY Not exactly. VIOLET I'm sorry, I usually would call Rajeev, but I didn't know what to do so I called Mr. Bianchinni. CORKY He said you lost something. VIOLET Yeah, come on in. She steps back and Corky walks inside. INT. CAESAR'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Violet leads her through the apartment. It is expensively furnished with very masculine tastes; a lot of gray and black leather. VIOLET I was doing some dishes and just as I pulled the stopper my earring fell in. Corky looks at her blankly. VIOLET It's one of my favorites. That's why I got upset. I know it probably seems ridiculous to you. An eyebrow goes up. VIOLET I'm sorry, look, forget it. I shouldn't have called... CORKY I told Bianchinni I would take a look. Is it that sink? Violet nods. She opens the sink cabinet and pulls out a pair of channel locks from her back pocket. The teeth of the channel locks open and bite onto the pressure nut. CORKY Do you have a pot or a bucket? VIOLET Sure. She hands one down to her. Corky slides it under the curved pipe. As she works, Corky feels herself staring at Violet, at the hem of her dress curving tightly around her thighs. Water begins to trickle into the pan. The nut slides loose and Corky tips the trap. Water splashes into the pan with a soft metal "tink." VIOLET Did you find it? Corky fishes into gray water and pulls out the earring. Violet screams, a huge smile on her face, half-falling as she tries to hug Corky. VIOLET I can't believe it! You did it! Corky leans back under and replaces the trap. VIOLET Thank you so much. You have to let me pay you something -- CORKY No. Mr. Bianchinni asked me to do it. I did it. Corky checks the drain by running the water. VIOLET If you won't take money, how about a drink? It's getting late. You can't work all night. Corky eyes her for a moment. CORKY Okay, one drink. VIOLET What do you want? CORKY A beer? VIOLET A beer. Of course. She smiles and turns to the bar. VIOLET Sit down. Corky sits on the black leather couch and Violet returns with two bottles of Heineken. Corky sneers. VIOLET Thanks again. They clink the bottles and swig. VIOLET You seem uncomfortable. Do I make you nervous, Corky? CORKY No. She looks at Violet, then takes another long pull on the bottle. VIOLET Thirsty, maybe. Violet smiles, her eyes again talking for her. CORKY Curious, maybe. VIOLET Curious? That's funny, I'm feeling a bit curious myself right now. Violet notices the tattoo on Corky's arm. VIOLET That's a great tattoo. She reaches over and touches it. VIOLET Beautiful labrys. Corky is a bit suprised that she knows what it is. She nods, rubbing it as if trying to hide it. VIOLET Are you surprised that I know what it is? CORKY Maybe. VIOLET I have a tattoo, would you like to see it? She moves closer, sliding over the leather cushions as she opens the front of her dress. VIOLET A woman in upstate New York did it for me. She is not wearing a bra. VIOLET Here. Do you like it? Set against the soft white skin of her breast is a bright green-stemmed violet. VIOLET It took her all day to do it. She promised me it wouldn't hurt, but it was sore for a long time after. I couldn't even touch it. Corky looks up from Violet's breast to her dark eyes. VIOLET But now I love the way it feels. She runs her fingers softly over the slightly scarred skin. VIOLET Here, touch it. Corky feels the blood pounding in her ears as Violet takes her hand and places it on her breast. CORKY What are you doing? Violet looks at her. VIOLET Isn't it obvious? I'm trying to seduce you. CORKY Why? VIOLET Because I want to. I've wanted to since I first saw you in the elevator. Corky watches her, trying to figure her out even as her thumb presses into Violet's nipple. Inhaling sharply, Violet closes her eyes; she can feel Corky staring at her. VIOLET You don't believe me. But I can prove it to you. She takes Corky's wrist and begins pulling her hand down her body. VIOLET You can't believe me because of what you see ... She forces Corky's hand between her legs, up under her dress. VIOLET But you can believe what you feel. Violet opens her eyes, a wanton smile on her lips. VIOLET You see ... I've been thinking about you all day. Corky's forearm flexes and Violet moans. With both hands, Violet takes hold of Corky's forearm. CORKY You planned this whole thing? Violet's head swims; she is unable to breathe. CORKY You dropped that earring down the drain on purpose, didn't you? VIOLET If I say yes, will you take your hand away? CORKY No. VIOLET ... yes. Now it is Corky who smiles. Violet shivers, her thighs rubbing, her hips thrusting against Corky's hand. VIOLET Please, Corky ... please ... Her eyes barely open. VIOLET ... kiss me. In a single motion, Corky takes hold of the back of her neck and covers Violet's open mouth with her own. With her hand still stuffed between Violet's legs, Corky lays her back onto the couch as the kiss becomes more -- More desperate, more hungry until -- We hear the front door unlock and open. CAESAR Violet? Violet's eyes pop open and she pushes Corky back. CAESAR Violet, you home? They scramble to compose themselves. VIOLET Yeah. In here, C. He comes around the corner and in the dim light sees the two figures sitting close on the couch. CAESAR What's this? He mistakes Corky for a man. CAESAR What the fuck is this? Violet stands as Caesar barrels toward the couch. VIOLET I didn't expect -- CAESAR What the fuck is going on? Corky stands and turns, Caesar suddenly realizing that she is a woman. CAESAR Oh, shit ... VIOLET Caesar, this is Corky. Corky, Caesar. CAESAR I'm sorry, Christ, I thought ... it's fucking dark in here. He reaches to the wall for the lights. VIOLET She is working for Bianchinni. Caesar extends his hand. CAESAR Oh, right, right. Don mentioned that to me. Hi, welcome to the family. Corky shakes his hand. CAESAR You're helping Rajeev? CORKY No. Rajeev's in India. VIOLET She's doing the work herself. CAESAR No shit. Bianchinni hired you? You know he's a good friend of mine. |Family, really. CORKY That's what Violet said. He looks at her as if he knows something. CAESAR So, you just got out? VIOLET Jesus, Caesar! CAESAR What? It ain't no big fuckin' deal. I know who Don hires. Did you know he did time himself? Corky shakes her head. CAESAR Thirteen fucking years. See, there ain't no secrets here. Corky doesn't like this man. CAESAR How many'd you do? CORKY Five. He whistles. CAESAR Not bad. What for? VIOLET That's none of your goddamn business, Caesar. CAESAR You're right. You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to. I just hope you understand you're among good people here. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a thick fold of money and peels several hundreds. Corky stares at it. CAESAR Come on, come on. if you understand what I'm talking about you're going to take the money. if you don't, I'm going to have to worry about you. Corky takes it. Caesar smiles. CAESAR Good. I hate to worry. I got ulcers. CORKY I should be going. CAESAR What? How about a drink? CORKY My brushes, I have to clean my brushes. Thanks, though. CAESAR Another time. CORKY Sure. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - NIGHT Close on the paintbrush, Corky's fingers pushing through and separating the black bristles under the running water. When the brush is clean, she flicks it dry and resets the edge. She goes to the sink to wash her hands when she stops, noticing her left hand. It is the hand that was between Violet's legs. She is about to smell her finger when she sees herself in the mirror. CORKY What are you doing? She drops her hand. CORKY What am I doing? I'm fucking up, that's what I'm doing. She scrubs her hands clean. EXT. PARKING LOT - NIGHT It is late, the area burnished with amber street light. Corky walks from the building to her truck. She climbs inside and slides the key into the ignition, when suddenly the passenger door opens and -- Violet gets in. Stunned, Corky stares at her. VIOLET I had to see you. CORKY Look, I don't think this is a good idea. VIOLET I wanted to apologize. CORKY Don't apologize, please. I can't stand women who apologize for wanting sex. Violet smiles. VIOLET I'm not apologizing for what I did -- She slides across the seat. VIOLET I'm apologizing for what I didn't do. She kisses Corky, and if Corky is trying to resist, we can't tell. The windshield is beginning to steam when Violet, panting, breaks the kiss. VIOLET Do you have a bed somewhere? Unable to speak, Corky reaches over and starts the engine. INT. CORKY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT The sex. There is nothing flower-scented or out-of-focus about it. It is sweaty, slippery, body-grinding, bed-squeaking lesbian sex -- Pungent and potent -- And when it is over, neither woman can move. Finally, Corky's eyes flutter open. CORKY I can see again. Violet smiles. Slowly, Corky gets up and goes to the fridge. She grabs a beer and presses it to her sweating forebead. After a moment, she lowers it, gently pressing the cold can elsewhere. Eyes closed, she lets out a long "Ahh." Violet hears the sizzle-pop of the beer as Corky returns to the bed. She holds the beer to Violet's lips and tilts the can, watching Violet's throat as she drinks. Violet's eyes open. VIOLET ... I needed that. CORKY Tell me about it. Corky hands her the beer as Violet sits up a bit. CORKY Caesar's Mafia, isn't he? VIOLET You have to ask? CORKY No. VIOLET Funny, nobody calls it that anymore. Caesar calls it "The |Business." CORKY How did you meet him? VIOLET They took over a club I was working at. Caesar started managing it. CORKY He's a launderer? VIOLET Basically. CORKY How long have you been with him? VIOLET Almost five years. CORKY Five years is a long time. VIOLET Yes, it is. Corky stares at her beer. She knows what Violet is thinking. CORKY The redistribution of wealth. VIOLET What? CORKY Isn't that what you wanted to know? What I did time for? VIOLET The redistribution of wealth? CORKY That's what I tell someone when I'm trying to get them in my bed. VIOLET I'm already in your bed. CORKY My cellmate would say she did her time for getting caught. She was always more honest than me. Corky sips her beer. CORKY I started stealing when I was little. We were piss-poor, which is not an excuse, just a fact. It isn't like her to talk about this, especially with someone she just met. CORKY The first time I remember so vividly. A bunch of us kids were at Waxman's Drugstore, when Mr. Waxman, who was a mean old prick, always worrying about us robbing him, dropped a roll of quarters. We can almost hear the coins tinkling on the tile floor. CORKY I can still hear that sound, those quarters, because right then something clicked inside of me. Some instinct took over and as everyone, including Waxman, dove down, I reached up and emptied the cash register. Violet smiles. She likes this woman. CORKY I gave most of the money to my mom. I told her I found it at the trainyard. She was so happy she cried, calling me her lucky charm. Fifteen years later, I guess my luck ran out. Sbe swallows that with beer. CORKY Sometimes I tell myself that I didn't have a choice, that stealing was surviving. Usually I can admit that's bullshit. I did it because it was a way out. It was easy and I was good at it, real good. She glances at Violet. CORKY I don't usually talk this much. I guess I have been rehabilitated. Violet laughs. VIOLET You didn't have to tell me if you didn't want to. CORKY I guess I wanted to. VIOLET I'm glad you did. CORKY So am I. EXT. PARKING LOT DAY Corky gets out of her truck carrying her tools. Grinning like someone who has been well-laid, she whistles off to work. EXT. LOBBY - DAY Between the main doors she sees a man. His name is SHELLY and he is an overdressed accountant. He is very nervous, talking to someone through the intercom. SHELLY I know he's gone. Please. I have to talk to you. Fiddling with her keys, Corky recognizes the voice that answers him. VIOLET (V.O.) What do you want, Shelly? Shelly glances over his shoulder at Corky, answering in a hushed voice. SHELLY I have to leave. Tonight. For a moment the intercom is silent. Then the door buzzes and Shelly pushes inside. Corky follows him to the elevator. INT. ELEVATOR - DAY Corky glares at Shelly and begins pumping the trigger of her circular saw. Shelly hides behind his sunglasses, watching the elevator numbers go up. The doors open and he scurries out. INT. HALL - DAY She watches him enter Caesar's apartment, her smile now completely gone. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - DAY It is later. Through the wall we listen to the same sound as before of two people making love. We drop down and find Corky's brush, still wet with paint, abandoned in her tray. INT. BEDROOM - DAY Her face glistening with sweat, Violet climaxes, letting the orgasm spread through her like melting butter. VIOLET I had this image of you, inside of me ... She flattens her palms against the soft cradle of her pelvis. VIOLET Like a part of me ... As she opens her eyes, we see that her lover is Corky. Violet watches as she gets off the bed and begins to get dressed. VIOLET You are so beautiful. Corky does not answer as she yanks her pants on. Violet sits up. She can feel that something is wrong. VIOLET What's wrong? CORKY Nothing. Violet pulls the sheet around her. VIOLET Yes there is. I felt it this morning when I brought you the coffee. CORKY Shit, here we go. VIOLET You didn't want to see me, did you? CORKY If there is one thing I can't stand about sleeping with women, it's all the fucking mind reading. VIOLET What are you afraid of? CORKY I'm not afraid of anything. VIOLET I don't understand - ? CORKY I know! You can't understand, because we're different, Violet. We're different. VIOLET We're not that different, Corky. CORKY How can you sit in that bed and say that? VIOLET Because it's the truth. CORKY Let me guess. This is where you tell me that what matters is on the inside. That inside you, there is a little dyke just like me? VIOLET Oh no, she's nothing like you. She's a lot smarter than you. CORKY Is that what her daddy tells her? VIOLET I know what I am. I don't need to have it tattooed on my shoulder. CORKY What are you saying? That you don't have sex with men? VIOLET I don't. CORKY For Christ's sake, Violet! I heard you! Thin walls, remember? VIOLET What you heard wasn't sex. CORKY What the fuck was it? VIOLET All my life, everyone has been telling me that when I have sex, I'm not really having sex. Not real sex. But they're wrong. I know what is and isn't sex and what you heard was definitely not sex. CORKY What was it then? VIOLET Work. That knocks Corky back. VIOLET You made certain choices in your life that you paid for. You said you made them because you were good at something and it was easy. Do you think you're the only one that's good at something? Violet stare pins Corky to the wall. VIOLET We make our own choices and we pay our own prices. I think we're more alike than you want to admit. CORKY What about that guy this morning? VIOLET You mean Shelly? CORKY Don't tell me, you're a workaholic. VIOLET No. Shelly knows what I am. He saw me in a bar with another woman. CORKY I suppose he just wants to watch. That's all Violet can take. VIOLET Fuck it! I think you better leave. CORKY I think so, too. Violet turns away. VIOLET Try not to steal anything on the way out. That stings but Corky walks out without looking back. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - NIGHT It is dark now. Corky is standing above the paint tray that has skinned over. She picks up the brush. It is dry with paint. CORKY Shit. She throws the brush across the room. EXT. CAESAR'S APARTMENT BUILDING - DAY A green-and-white street sign juts in the foreground of Caesar's upscale apartment building. The sign reads: "FRANKLIN STREET." EXT. PARKING LOT - DAY The rusty Chevy glides to a stop in a parking space near the service entrance. In its payload is a boxed bathroom vanity and sink. Corky climbs out of the cab and into the back, unhooking the bungee cords that hold down the boxes. She looks up as a black Lincoln Town Car screeches into a spot not far from her truck. THREE SERIOUS-LOOKING MEN get out, leading a fourth, Shelly. He is the only one who seems to notice Corky. They enter the building, the door closing behind them. INT. BATHROOM - DAY Corky's legs jut out from the old wicker vanity as she finishes detaching its anchors and pipe work. She stands, giving it a yank and pulling it away from the wall, when voices begin to filter in from the next-door apartment. She listens - a rising string of warbling sobs drowned out by an angry voice. ANGRY VOICE Shut the fuck up! You piece of shit! We hear a scream. ANGRY VOICE You're going to tell us! You're going to fuckin' tell us! just a matter of fuckin' time! Each sentence is punctuated with grunts and thuds. ANGRY VOICE Where is it? Where the fuck is it?! We begin to close in on Corky as she listens to each thud, watching something that disturbs her. ANGRY VOICE You shit! You piece of shit! With each thud the water in the toilet shimmers like a struck cymbal. As we move closer, the sound swells until -- MATCH CUT TO: INT. CAESAR'S BATHROOM DAY Where blood splatters the toilet, heavy drops hitting the water and spreading like inverted mushroom clouds. ANGRY VOICE Did that hurt? News flash, fucko: I'm just getting started. The angry voice belongs to JOHNNIE MARZZONE. Shelly is kneeling in front of the toilet, hands tied behind his back with electrical wire. Johnnie Marzzone is a flashy young man in Armani slacks, silk shirt and silver-tipped cowboy boots. His tie is tucked in, as if torture were a fine-dining experience. Caesar and two other men are crammed in the small bathroom. JOHNNIE You got nerve trying to fuck us! Nobody fucks me! Nobody fucks my father! Nobody! Nobody! Shelly screams as Jobnnie repeatedly rams his face into the toilet. CAESAR Whoa, whoa. Come on, he's making too much noise.

sundays

How many times the word 'sundays' appears in the text?

Bound Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS BOUND Written by Larry & Andy Wachowski FADE IN: Inside a closet. It is a large closet with double doors, a crisp line of light cutting down through the center of the darkness. As we begin to descend, voices echo in our head. VIOLET (V.O.) I had this image of you, inside of me, like a part of me. We move past a shelf filled with hatboxes and handbags. It is a woman's closet. CORKY (V.O.) You planned this whole thing, didn't you? CAESAR (V.O.) Where's the fucking money? We glide over the tightly packed hangers, close enough to feel the different fabrics and descend past the dresses to the racks of high heels. VIOLET (V.O.) We make our own choices, we pay our own prices. CAESAR (V.O.) All part of the business. VIOLET (V.O.) All part of the business. CORKY (V.O.) What choice? We slide along the delicate taper of a stiletto heel and reach the bottom of the closet, where we find a pair of black Dr. Martens boots that are tied together with a white rope. VIOLET (V.O.) I want out. We move up the boots and we see it is a woman who is bound, lying motionless on the floor of the closet, the rope coiling tightly around her wrists. The crack at the bottom of the door lights her face. She is gagged and unconscious, a trickle of blood running down her forehead. Her name is CORKY. VIOLET (V.O.) Like a part of me. CUT TO: INT. ELEVATOR - DAY Leaning against the back of the elevator is Corky, a very butch-looking woman with short hair and a black leather jacket. She is a lesbian and wants people to know it. As the doors begin to slide shut, a woman yells. WOMAN Wait! Hold the elevator. Corky pushes the "open" button. A couple steps into the elevator. His name is CAESAR, a middle-aged Italian, wearing an expensive suit and sunglasses. She is VIOLET; a piece of sexual candy that would melt in your mouth. She hears it again, a guttural sound. CORKY Thanks again for this opportunity, Mr. Bianchinni. Goodbye. She hangs up the phone and walks toward the wall. As she gets closer, we hear a bed rocking, tapping against the wall. The man's breathing grows more and more labored until finally it swells -- DISSOLVING INTO: INT. BATHROOM - MORNING The whining motor of a high-powered drain-rod. The spiral cable whips wildly, spiraling deeper into the tub drain, black goo splattering everywhere. The machine is so loud Corky almost cannot hear someone pounding on the apartment door. Killing the motor, she stands and goes to the door. Behind the door is Violet, wearing jeans, a white T-shirt and cowboy boots. VIOLET Hi. My name is Violet. We sort of met in the elevator -- CORKY Yeah, sure. I'm Corky. VIOLET I heard you working in here and I just wondered if you'd like a cup of coffee? She is holding two cups of coffee: one black, one with cream. CORKY Sure. Come on in. Give me a minute. Violet steps inside as Corky goes back to the bathroom to wash off the drain dreck. VIOLET What happened to Rajeev? Corky calls from the bathroom, scrubbing her hands vigorously. CORKY Who? VIOLET Rajeev, the man who usually works on the building. CORKY Oh, he went home to India, but as far as I know he'll be back. She wipes her hands on her overalls, returning to the main room. VIOLET So this is temporary for you? CORKY Pretty much. One day at a time. Violet hands her the cup of black coffee. VIOLET I guessed you were straight black. CORKY Good guess. They both sip from the piping hot mugs. CORKY Mmmm ... thanks, I needed this. VIOLET My pleasure ... but to be honest, I did have a slightly ulterior motive here. I was wondering if I could ask a small favor? CORKY A favor? VIOLET Yeah, see, I'm kind of a night person, so I was wondering if it wasn't a terrible inconvenience if you could wait a bit before using power tools. CORKY Oh, I'm sorry -- VIOLET No, it isn't your fault. The walls here are just so thin. CORKY Are they really? VIOLET Yes, it really causes problems. Sometimes it's like you're in the same room. But if it's too much trouble, I understand ... CORKY No, no trouble. There's other work to do. VIOLET You're doing everything yourself? CORKY Yeah. VIOLET That is so amazing. I'm in awe of people who can fix things. My dad was like that. We never had anything new. Whenever something broke he would open it up, tinker with it and it would work. His hands were magic. She looks at Corky's hands cupped around the mug. VIOLET Yeah ... I bet your car is twenty years old. Corky smiles. CORKY Truck. VIOLET Truck. Of course. CORKY '63 Chevy. VIOLET I knew it. VIOLET SIPS VIOLET So, how do you know the owner, Mr. Bianchinni? CORKY I don't, really. I was referred to him. VIOLET Oh, really. Corky suddenly feels she has revealed something. CORKY Do you know him? VIOLET No, but Caesar does. He likes him. Says he's a good Italian. CORKY Caesar is your husband? VIOLET Oh no, no. I'm not the marrying kind. Smiling, she says nothing else. VIOLET I should be going. You can drop the cup off anytime. CORKY Thanks. VIOLET My pleasure. CORKY watches her leave. EXT. THE WATERING HOLE - NIGHT A dirty bar hidden away on a dark street, its cracked, moon- white sign the only evidence it exists. Corky's truck swings into a space in front of a couple of large motorcycles. She flips her collar and heads for the door. INT. THE WATERING HOLE - NIGHT The smell of leather and cigarette smoke fills Corky's nose as she crosses to the bar. BARTENDER Well, well ... Corky sits as the fat bartender waddles over. BARTENDER Been awhile, Cork. CORKY Five years, two months, sixteen days. How you doing, Sue? Corky puts a cigarette in her mouth and lights it. SUE Like shit. Now that we're all caught up, how about a drink? Sue opens the refrigerator and pulls out two Old Styles. CORKY Thanks. They click the bottles together and drink. SUE You got a job yet? CORKY Yeah. Some plumbing, painting and shit. Sue laughs. SUE I mean a J-O-B. A real job. CORKY Not for me, Sue. I'm straight and narrow. I'm just here to get laid or drunk and hopefully both. Corky gets off the stool. CORKY Thanks for the beer. Looking around, she sees a woman alone at one of the back tables. Through the smoky din, she bears a slight resemblance to Violet. The woman is dressed all in black, including a leather jacket. Smiling, Corky slides into the chair beside her. There is no one smoother. CORKY Hi. WOMAN Hello. CORKY You know ... that outfit would look great on my bedroom floor. The woman smiles just as someone taps Corky on the shoulder. She turns and is face-to-face with a large bull of a woman in a heavy leather Chicago Police jacket. She is more wide than fat. WOMAN COP Hey, Jesse. What's happening here? CORKY Nothing ... yet. WOMAN COP Who's this? Her coat opens as she puts her hands on her hips. A service revolver is clipped to her belt. She squints at Corky, her head nodding in recognition. WOMAN COP Wait, I know you. CORKY I don't think so. WOMAN COP I didn't know you were out. Corky smiles at the woman in black. CORKY When you get tired of Cagney and Lacey, come find me. She heads for the exit. EXT. CITY STREET - NIGHT The neighborhood would be politely described as "rough." Corky's truck does not stand out parked alone on the littered street. INT. CORKY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT It is a hole but it is home. Corky is lying on her futon staring up at the ceiling, a beer resting on her stomach; a folk singer quietly croons from the radio. We see the ceiling, a circle of light hovering over the small desk lamp. We move in on the spot, which slowly fills up the screen until there is nothing but the white light. Suddenly a wet paint roller loaded with white paint cuts a swath across the ceiling. MATCH CUT TO: INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - DAY Corky is painting the ceiling. The folk ballad has become an angry Riot Grrrl anthem. She is working hard, the roller sucking back and forth. Sweat covers her face. Dropping the roller down, she reloads it in the tray when the phone rings. She stops and answers it. CORKY Hello? Oh, hi, Mr. Bianchinni ... yes, everything is going fine. I got the tub drain all cleaned out. She listens for a moment. CORKY What apartment? She glances at the main wall. CORKY All right, all right, I guess I could take a look. Yeah, you're welcome, goodbye. She hangs up and looks again at the wall, feeling... curious. INT. HALL - NIGHT Corky knocks and after a moment Violet opens the door. She seems surprised. VIOLET Oh no. Shit. I didn't know he would call you. God, you must think |I'm a total nuisance. CORKY Not exactly. VIOLET I'm sorry, I usually would call Rajeev, but I didn't know what to do so I called Mr. Bianchinni. CORKY He said you lost something. VIOLET Yeah, come on in. She steps back and Corky walks inside. INT. CAESAR'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Violet leads her through the apartment. It is expensively furnished with very masculine tastes; a lot of gray and black leather. VIOLET I was doing some dishes and just as I pulled the stopper my earring fell in. Corky looks at her blankly. VIOLET It's one of my favorites. That's why I got upset. I know it probably seems ridiculous to you. An eyebrow goes up. VIOLET I'm sorry, look, forget it. I shouldn't have called... CORKY I told Bianchinni I would take a look. Is it that sink? Violet nods. She opens the sink cabinet and pulls out a pair of channel locks from her back pocket. The teeth of the channel locks open and bite onto the pressure nut. CORKY Do you have a pot or a bucket? VIOLET Sure. She hands one down to her. Corky slides it under the curved pipe. As she works, Corky feels herself staring at Violet, at the hem of her dress curving tightly around her thighs. Water begins to trickle into the pan. The nut slides loose and Corky tips the trap. Water splashes into the pan with a soft metal "tink." VIOLET Did you find it? Corky fishes into gray water and pulls out the earring. Violet screams, a huge smile on her face, half-falling as she tries to hug Corky. VIOLET I can't believe it! You did it! Corky leans back under and replaces the trap. VIOLET Thank you so much. You have to let me pay you something -- CORKY No. Mr. Bianchinni asked me to do it. I did it. Corky checks the drain by running the water. VIOLET If you won't take money, how about a drink? It's getting late. You can't work all night. Corky eyes her for a moment. CORKY Okay, one drink. VIOLET What do you want? CORKY A beer? VIOLET A beer. Of course. She smiles and turns to the bar. VIOLET Sit down. Corky sits on the black leather couch and Violet returns with two bottles of Heineken. Corky sneers. VIOLET Thanks again. They clink the bottles and swig. VIOLET You seem uncomfortable. Do I make you nervous, Corky? CORKY No. She looks at Violet, then takes another long pull on the bottle. VIOLET Thirsty, maybe. Violet smiles, her eyes again talking for her. CORKY Curious, maybe. VIOLET Curious? That's funny, I'm feeling a bit curious myself right now. Violet notices the tattoo on Corky's arm. VIOLET That's a great tattoo. She reaches over and touches it. VIOLET Beautiful labrys. Corky is a bit suprised that she knows what it is. She nods, rubbing it as if trying to hide it. VIOLET Are you surprised that I know what it is? CORKY Maybe. VIOLET I have a tattoo, would you like to see it? She moves closer, sliding over the leather cushions as she opens the front of her dress. VIOLET A woman in upstate New York did it for me. She is not wearing a bra. VIOLET Here. Do you like it? Set against the soft white skin of her breast is a bright green-stemmed violet. VIOLET It took her all day to do it. She promised me it wouldn't hurt, but it was sore for a long time after. I couldn't even touch it. Corky looks up from Violet's breast to her dark eyes. VIOLET But now I love the way it feels. She runs her fingers softly over the slightly scarred skin. VIOLET Here, touch it. Corky feels the blood pounding in her ears as Violet takes her hand and places it on her breast. CORKY What are you doing? Violet looks at her. VIOLET Isn't it obvious? I'm trying to seduce you. CORKY Why? VIOLET Because I want to. I've wanted to since I first saw you in the elevator. Corky watches her, trying to figure her out even as her thumb presses into Violet's nipple. Inhaling sharply, Violet closes her eyes; she can feel Corky staring at her. VIOLET You don't believe me. But I can prove it to you. She takes Corky's wrist and begins pulling her hand down her body. VIOLET You can't believe me because of what you see ... She forces Corky's hand between her legs, up under her dress. VIOLET But you can believe what you feel. Violet opens her eyes, a wanton smile on her lips. VIOLET You see ... I've been thinking about you all day. Corky's forearm flexes and Violet moans. With both hands, Violet takes hold of Corky's forearm. CORKY You planned this whole thing? Violet's head swims; she is unable to breathe. CORKY You dropped that earring down the drain on purpose, didn't you? VIOLET If I say yes, will you take your hand away? CORKY No. VIOLET ... yes. Now it is Corky who smiles. Violet shivers, her thighs rubbing, her hips thrusting against Corky's hand. VIOLET Please, Corky ... please ... Her eyes barely open. VIOLET ... kiss me. In a single motion, Corky takes hold of the back of her neck and covers Violet's open mouth with her own. With her hand still stuffed between Violet's legs, Corky lays her back onto the couch as the kiss becomes more -- More desperate, more hungry until -- We hear the front door unlock and open. CAESAR Violet? Violet's eyes pop open and she pushes Corky back. CAESAR Violet, you home? They scramble to compose themselves. VIOLET Yeah. In here, C. He comes around the corner and in the dim light sees the two figures sitting close on the couch. CAESAR What's this? He mistakes Corky for a man. CAESAR What the fuck is this? Violet stands as Caesar barrels toward the couch. VIOLET I didn't expect -- CAESAR What the fuck is going on? Corky stands and turns, Caesar suddenly realizing that she is a woman. CAESAR Oh, shit ... VIOLET Caesar, this is Corky. Corky, Caesar. CAESAR I'm sorry, Christ, I thought ... it's fucking dark in here. He reaches to the wall for the lights. VIOLET She is working for Bianchinni. Caesar extends his hand. CAESAR Oh, right, right. Don mentioned that to me. Hi, welcome to the family. Corky shakes his hand. CAESAR You're helping Rajeev? CORKY No. Rajeev's in India. VIOLET She's doing the work herself. CAESAR No shit. Bianchinni hired you? You know he's a good friend of mine. |Family, really. CORKY That's what Violet said. He looks at her as if he knows something. CAESAR So, you just got out? VIOLET Jesus, Caesar! CAESAR What? It ain't no big fuckin' deal. I know who Don hires. Did you know he did time himself? Corky shakes her head. CAESAR Thirteen fucking years. See, there ain't no secrets here. Corky doesn't like this man. CAESAR How many'd you do? CORKY Five. He whistles. CAESAR Not bad. What for? VIOLET That's none of your goddamn business, Caesar. CAESAR You're right. You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to. I just hope you understand you're among good people here. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a thick fold of money and peels several hundreds. Corky stares at it. CAESAR Come on, come on. if you understand what I'm talking about you're going to take the money. if you don't, I'm going to have to worry about you. Corky takes it. Caesar smiles. CAESAR Good. I hate to worry. I got ulcers. CORKY I should be going. CAESAR What? How about a drink? CORKY My brushes, I have to clean my brushes. Thanks, though. CAESAR Another time. CORKY Sure. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - NIGHT Close on the paintbrush, Corky's fingers pushing through and separating the black bristles under the running water. When the brush is clean, she flicks it dry and resets the edge. She goes to the sink to wash her hands when she stops, noticing her left hand. It is the hand that was between Violet's legs. She is about to smell her finger when she sees herself in the mirror. CORKY What are you doing? She drops her hand. CORKY What am I doing? I'm fucking up, that's what I'm doing. She scrubs her hands clean. EXT. PARKING LOT - NIGHT It is late, the area burnished with amber street light. Corky walks from the building to her truck. She climbs inside and slides the key into the ignition, when suddenly the passenger door opens and -- Violet gets in. Stunned, Corky stares at her. VIOLET I had to see you. CORKY Look, I don't think this is a good idea. VIOLET I wanted to apologize. CORKY Don't apologize, please. I can't stand women who apologize for wanting sex. Violet smiles. VIOLET I'm not apologizing for what I did -- She slides across the seat. VIOLET I'm apologizing for what I didn't do. She kisses Corky, and if Corky is trying to resist, we can't tell. The windshield is beginning to steam when Violet, panting, breaks the kiss. VIOLET Do you have a bed somewhere? Unable to speak, Corky reaches over and starts the engine. INT. CORKY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT The sex. There is nothing flower-scented or out-of-focus about it. It is sweaty, slippery, body-grinding, bed-squeaking lesbian sex -- Pungent and potent -- And when it is over, neither woman can move. Finally, Corky's eyes flutter open. CORKY I can see again. Violet smiles. Slowly, Corky gets up and goes to the fridge. She grabs a beer and presses it to her sweating forebead. After a moment, she lowers it, gently pressing the cold can elsewhere. Eyes closed, she lets out a long "Ahh." Violet hears the sizzle-pop of the beer as Corky returns to the bed. She holds the beer to Violet's lips and tilts the can, watching Violet's throat as she drinks. Violet's eyes open. VIOLET ... I needed that. CORKY Tell me about it. Corky hands her the beer as Violet sits up a bit. CORKY Caesar's Mafia, isn't he? VIOLET You have to ask? CORKY No. VIOLET Funny, nobody calls it that anymore. Caesar calls it "The |Business." CORKY How did you meet him? VIOLET They took over a club I was working at. Caesar started managing it. CORKY He's a launderer? VIOLET Basically. CORKY How long have you been with him? VIOLET Almost five years. CORKY Five years is a long time. VIOLET Yes, it is. Corky stares at her beer. She knows what Violet is thinking. CORKY The redistribution of wealth. VIOLET What? CORKY Isn't that what you wanted to know? What I did time for? VIOLET The redistribution of wealth? CORKY That's what I tell someone when I'm trying to get them in my bed. VIOLET I'm already in your bed. CORKY My cellmate would say she did her time for getting caught. She was always more honest than me. Corky sips her beer. CORKY I started stealing when I was little. We were piss-poor, which is not an excuse, just a fact. It isn't like her to talk about this, especially with someone she just met. CORKY The first time I remember so vividly. A bunch of us kids were at Waxman's Drugstore, when Mr. Waxman, who was a mean old prick, always worrying about us robbing him, dropped a roll of quarters. We can almost hear the coins tinkling on the tile floor. CORKY I can still hear that sound, those quarters, because right then something clicked inside of me. Some instinct took over and as everyone, including Waxman, dove down, I reached up and emptied the cash register. Violet smiles. She likes this woman. CORKY I gave most of the money to my mom. I told her I found it at the trainyard. She was so happy she cried, calling me her lucky charm. Fifteen years later, I guess my luck ran out. Sbe swallows that with beer. CORKY Sometimes I tell myself that I didn't have a choice, that stealing was surviving. Usually I can admit that's bullshit. I did it because it was a way out. It was easy and I was good at it, real good. She glances at Violet. CORKY I don't usually talk this much. I guess I have been rehabilitated. Violet laughs. VIOLET You didn't have to tell me if you didn't want to. CORKY I guess I wanted to. VIOLET I'm glad you did. CORKY So am I. EXT. PARKING LOT DAY Corky gets out of her truck carrying her tools. Grinning like someone who has been well-laid, she whistles off to work. EXT. LOBBY - DAY Between the main doors she sees a man. His name is SHELLY and he is an overdressed accountant. He is very nervous, talking to someone through the intercom. SHELLY I know he's gone. Please. I have to talk to you. Fiddling with her keys, Corky recognizes the voice that answers him. VIOLET (V.O.) What do you want, Shelly? Shelly glances over his shoulder at Corky, answering in a hushed voice. SHELLY I have to leave. Tonight. For a moment the intercom is silent. Then the door buzzes and Shelly pushes inside. Corky follows him to the elevator. INT. ELEVATOR - DAY Corky glares at Shelly and begins pumping the trigger of her circular saw. Shelly hides behind his sunglasses, watching the elevator numbers go up. The doors open and he scurries out. INT. HALL - DAY She watches him enter Caesar's apartment, her smile now completely gone. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - DAY It is later. Through the wall we listen to the same sound as before of two people making love. We drop down and find Corky's brush, still wet with paint, abandoned in her tray. INT. BEDROOM - DAY Her face glistening with sweat, Violet climaxes, letting the orgasm spread through her like melting butter. VIOLET I had this image of you, inside of me ... She flattens her palms against the soft cradle of her pelvis. VIOLET Like a part of me ... As she opens her eyes, we see that her lover is Corky. Violet watches as she gets off the bed and begins to get dressed. VIOLET You are so beautiful. Corky does not answer as she yanks her pants on. Violet sits up. She can feel that something is wrong. VIOLET What's wrong? CORKY Nothing. Violet pulls the sheet around her. VIOLET Yes there is. I felt it this morning when I brought you the coffee. CORKY Shit, here we go. VIOLET You didn't want to see me, did you? CORKY If there is one thing I can't stand about sleeping with women, it's all the fucking mind reading. VIOLET What are you afraid of? CORKY I'm not afraid of anything. VIOLET I don't understand - ? CORKY I know! You can't understand, because we're different, Violet. We're different. VIOLET We're not that different, Corky. CORKY How can you sit in that bed and say that? VIOLET Because it's the truth. CORKY Let me guess. This is where you tell me that what matters is on the inside. That inside you, there is a little dyke just like me? VIOLET Oh no, she's nothing like you. She's a lot smarter than you. CORKY Is that what her daddy tells her? VIOLET I know what I am. I don't need to have it tattooed on my shoulder. CORKY What are you saying? That you don't have sex with men? VIOLET I don't. CORKY For Christ's sake, Violet! I heard you! Thin walls, remember? VIOLET What you heard wasn't sex. CORKY What the fuck was it? VIOLET All my life, everyone has been telling me that when I have sex, I'm not really having sex. Not real sex. But they're wrong. I know what is and isn't sex and what you heard was definitely not sex. CORKY What was it then? VIOLET Work. That knocks Corky back. VIOLET You made certain choices in your life that you paid for. You said you made them because you were good at something and it was easy. Do you think you're the only one that's good at something? Violet stare pins Corky to the wall. VIOLET We make our own choices and we pay our own prices. I think we're more alike than you want to admit. CORKY What about that guy this morning? VIOLET You mean Shelly? CORKY Don't tell me, you're a workaholic. VIOLET No. Shelly knows what I am. He saw me in a bar with another woman. CORKY I suppose he just wants to watch. That's all Violet can take. VIOLET Fuck it! I think you better leave. CORKY I think so, too. Violet turns away. VIOLET Try not to steal anything on the way out. That stings but Corky walks out without looking back. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - NIGHT It is dark now. Corky is standing above the paint tray that has skinned over. She picks up the brush. It is dry with paint. CORKY Shit. She throws the brush across the room. EXT. CAESAR'S APARTMENT BUILDING - DAY A green-and-white street sign juts in the foreground of Caesar's upscale apartment building. The sign reads: "FRANKLIN STREET." EXT. PARKING LOT - DAY The rusty Chevy glides to a stop in a parking space near the service entrance. In its payload is a boxed bathroom vanity and sink. Corky climbs out of the cab and into the back, unhooking the bungee cords that hold down the boxes. She looks up as a black Lincoln Town Car screeches into a spot not far from her truck. THREE SERIOUS-LOOKING MEN get out, leading a fourth, Shelly. He is the only one who seems to notice Corky. They enter the building, the door closing behind them. INT. BATHROOM - DAY Corky's legs jut out from the old wicker vanity as she finishes detaching its anchors and pipe work. She stands, giving it a yank and pulling it away from the wall, when voices begin to filter in from the next-door apartment. She listens - a rising string of warbling sobs drowned out by an angry voice. ANGRY VOICE Shut the fuck up! You piece of shit! We hear a scream. ANGRY VOICE You're going to tell us! You're going to fuckin' tell us! just a matter of fuckin' time! Each sentence is punctuated with grunts and thuds. ANGRY VOICE Where is it? Where the fuck is it?! We begin to close in on Corky as she listens to each thud, watching something that disturbs her. ANGRY VOICE You shit! You piece of shit! With each thud the water in the toilet shimmers like a struck cymbal. As we move closer, the sound swells until -- MATCH CUT TO: INT. CAESAR'S BATHROOM DAY Where blood splatters the toilet, heavy drops hitting the water and spreading like inverted mushroom clouds. ANGRY VOICE Did that hurt? News flash, fucko: I'm just getting started. The angry voice belongs to JOHNNIE MARZZONE. Shelly is kneeling in front of the toilet, hands tied behind his back with electrical wire. Johnnie Marzzone is a flashy young man in Armani slacks, silk shirt and silver-tipped cowboy boots. His tie is tucked in, as if torture were a fine-dining experience. Caesar and two other men are crammed in the small bathroom. JOHNNIE You got nerve trying to fuck us! Nobody fucks me! Nobody fucks my father! Nobody! Nobody! Shelly screams as Jobnnie repeatedly rams his face into the toilet. CAESAR Whoa, whoa. Come on, he's making too much noise.

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Bound Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS BOUND Written by Larry & Andy Wachowski FADE IN: Inside a closet. It is a large closet with double doors, a crisp line of light cutting down through the center of the darkness. As we begin to descend, voices echo in our head. VIOLET (V.O.) I had this image of you, inside of me, like a part of me. We move past a shelf filled with hatboxes and handbags. It is a woman's closet. CORKY (V.O.) You planned this whole thing, didn't you? CAESAR (V.O.) Where's the fucking money? We glide over the tightly packed hangers, close enough to feel the different fabrics and descend past the dresses to the racks of high heels. VIOLET (V.O.) We make our own choices, we pay our own prices. CAESAR (V.O.) All part of the business. VIOLET (V.O.) All part of the business. CORKY (V.O.) What choice? We slide along the delicate taper of a stiletto heel and reach the bottom of the closet, where we find a pair of black Dr. Martens boots that are tied together with a white rope. VIOLET (V.O.) I want out. We move up the boots and we see it is a woman who is bound, lying motionless on the floor of the closet, the rope coiling tightly around her wrists. The crack at the bottom of the door lights her face. She is gagged and unconscious, a trickle of blood running down her forehead. Her name is CORKY. VIOLET (V.O.) Like a part of me. CUT TO: INT. ELEVATOR - DAY Leaning against the back of the elevator is Corky, a very butch-looking woman with short hair and a black leather jacket. She is a lesbian and wants people to know it. As the doors begin to slide shut, a woman yells. WOMAN Wait! Hold the elevator. Corky pushes the "open" button. A couple steps into the elevator. His name is CAESAR, a middle-aged Italian, wearing an expensive suit and sunglasses. She is VIOLET; a piece of sexual candy that would melt in your mouth. She hears it again, a guttural sound. CORKY Thanks again for this opportunity, Mr. Bianchinni. Goodbye. She hangs up the phone and walks toward the wall. As she gets closer, we hear a bed rocking, tapping against the wall. The man's breathing grows more and more labored until finally it swells -- DISSOLVING INTO: INT. BATHROOM - MORNING The whining motor of a high-powered drain-rod. The spiral cable whips wildly, spiraling deeper into the tub drain, black goo splattering everywhere. The machine is so loud Corky almost cannot hear someone pounding on the apartment door. Killing the motor, she stands and goes to the door. Behind the door is Violet, wearing jeans, a white T-shirt and cowboy boots. VIOLET Hi. My name is Violet. We sort of met in the elevator -- CORKY Yeah, sure. I'm Corky. VIOLET I heard you working in here and I just wondered if you'd like a cup of coffee? She is holding two cups of coffee: one black, one with cream. CORKY Sure. Come on in. Give me a minute. Violet steps inside as Corky goes back to the bathroom to wash off the drain dreck. VIOLET What happened to Rajeev? Corky calls from the bathroom, scrubbing her hands vigorously. CORKY Who? VIOLET Rajeev, the man who usually works on the building. CORKY Oh, he went home to India, but as far as I know he'll be back. She wipes her hands on her overalls, returning to the main room. VIOLET So this is temporary for you? CORKY Pretty much. One day at a time. Violet hands her the cup of black coffee. VIOLET I guessed you were straight black. CORKY Good guess. They both sip from the piping hot mugs. CORKY Mmmm ... thanks, I needed this. VIOLET My pleasure ... but to be honest, I did have a slightly ulterior motive here. I was wondering if I could ask a small favor? CORKY A favor? VIOLET Yeah, see, I'm kind of a night person, so I was wondering if it wasn't a terrible inconvenience if you could wait a bit before using power tools. CORKY Oh, I'm sorry -- VIOLET No, it isn't your fault. The walls here are just so thin. CORKY Are they really? VIOLET Yes, it really causes problems. Sometimes it's like you're in the same room. But if it's too much trouble, I understand ... CORKY No, no trouble. There's other work to do. VIOLET You're doing everything yourself? CORKY Yeah. VIOLET That is so amazing. I'm in awe of people who can fix things. My dad was like that. We never had anything new. Whenever something broke he would open it up, tinker with it and it would work. His hands were magic. She looks at Corky's hands cupped around the mug. VIOLET Yeah ... I bet your car is twenty years old. Corky smiles. CORKY Truck. VIOLET Truck. Of course. CORKY '63 Chevy. VIOLET I knew it. VIOLET SIPS VIOLET So, how do you know the owner, Mr. Bianchinni? CORKY I don't, really. I was referred to him. VIOLET Oh, really. Corky suddenly feels she has revealed something. CORKY Do you know him? VIOLET No, but Caesar does. He likes him. Says he's a good Italian. CORKY Caesar is your husband? VIOLET Oh no, no. I'm not the marrying kind. Smiling, she says nothing else. VIOLET I should be going. You can drop the cup off anytime. CORKY Thanks. VIOLET My pleasure. CORKY watches her leave. EXT. THE WATERING HOLE - NIGHT A dirty bar hidden away on a dark street, its cracked, moon- white sign the only evidence it exists. Corky's truck swings into a space in front of a couple of large motorcycles. She flips her collar and heads for the door. INT. THE WATERING HOLE - NIGHT The smell of leather and cigarette smoke fills Corky's nose as she crosses to the bar. BARTENDER Well, well ... Corky sits as the fat bartender waddles over. BARTENDER Been awhile, Cork. CORKY Five years, two months, sixteen days. How you doing, Sue? Corky puts a cigarette in her mouth and lights it. SUE Like shit. Now that we're all caught up, how about a drink? Sue opens the refrigerator and pulls out two Old Styles. CORKY Thanks. They click the bottles together and drink. SUE You got a job yet? CORKY Yeah. Some plumbing, painting and shit. Sue laughs. SUE I mean a J-O-B. A real job. CORKY Not for me, Sue. I'm straight and narrow. I'm just here to get laid or drunk and hopefully both. Corky gets off the stool. CORKY Thanks for the beer. Looking around, she sees a woman alone at one of the back tables. Through the smoky din, she bears a slight resemblance to Violet. The woman is dressed all in black, including a leather jacket. Smiling, Corky slides into the chair beside her. There is no one smoother. CORKY Hi. WOMAN Hello. CORKY You know ... that outfit would look great on my bedroom floor. The woman smiles just as someone taps Corky on the shoulder. She turns and is face-to-face with a large bull of a woman in a heavy leather Chicago Police jacket. She is more wide than fat. WOMAN COP Hey, Jesse. What's happening here? CORKY Nothing ... yet. WOMAN COP Who's this? Her coat opens as she puts her hands on her hips. A service revolver is clipped to her belt. She squints at Corky, her head nodding in recognition. WOMAN COP Wait, I know you. CORKY I don't think so. WOMAN COP I didn't know you were out. Corky smiles at the woman in black. CORKY When you get tired of Cagney and Lacey, come find me. She heads for the exit. EXT. CITY STREET - NIGHT The neighborhood would be politely described as "rough." Corky's truck does not stand out parked alone on the littered street. INT. CORKY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT It is a hole but it is home. Corky is lying on her futon staring up at the ceiling, a beer resting on her stomach; a folk singer quietly croons from the radio. We see the ceiling, a circle of light hovering over the small desk lamp. We move in on the spot, which slowly fills up the screen until there is nothing but the white light. Suddenly a wet paint roller loaded with white paint cuts a swath across the ceiling. MATCH CUT TO: INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - DAY Corky is painting the ceiling. The folk ballad has become an angry Riot Grrrl anthem. She is working hard, the roller sucking back and forth. Sweat covers her face. Dropping the roller down, she reloads it in the tray when the phone rings. She stops and answers it. CORKY Hello? Oh, hi, Mr. Bianchinni ... yes, everything is going fine. I got the tub drain all cleaned out. She listens for a moment. CORKY What apartment? She glances at the main wall. CORKY All right, all right, I guess I could take a look. Yeah, you're welcome, goodbye. She hangs up and looks again at the wall, feeling... curious. INT. HALL - NIGHT Corky knocks and after a moment Violet opens the door. She seems surprised. VIOLET Oh no. Shit. I didn't know he would call you. God, you must think |I'm a total nuisance. CORKY Not exactly. VIOLET I'm sorry, I usually would call Rajeev, but I didn't know what to do so I called Mr. Bianchinni. CORKY He said you lost something. VIOLET Yeah, come on in. She steps back and Corky walks inside. INT. CAESAR'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Violet leads her through the apartment. It is expensively furnished with very masculine tastes; a lot of gray and black leather. VIOLET I was doing some dishes and just as I pulled the stopper my earring fell in. Corky looks at her blankly. VIOLET It's one of my favorites. That's why I got upset. I know it probably seems ridiculous to you. An eyebrow goes up. VIOLET I'm sorry, look, forget it. I shouldn't have called... CORKY I told Bianchinni I would take a look. Is it that sink? Violet nods. She opens the sink cabinet and pulls out a pair of channel locks from her back pocket. The teeth of the channel locks open and bite onto the pressure nut. CORKY Do you have a pot or a bucket? VIOLET Sure. She hands one down to her. Corky slides it under the curved pipe. As she works, Corky feels herself staring at Violet, at the hem of her dress curving tightly around her thighs. Water begins to trickle into the pan. The nut slides loose and Corky tips the trap. Water splashes into the pan with a soft metal "tink." VIOLET Did you find it? Corky fishes into gray water and pulls out the earring. Violet screams, a huge smile on her face, half-falling as she tries to hug Corky. VIOLET I can't believe it! You did it! Corky leans back under and replaces the trap. VIOLET Thank you so much. You have to let me pay you something -- CORKY No. Mr. Bianchinni asked me to do it. I did it. Corky checks the drain by running the water. VIOLET If you won't take money, how about a drink? It's getting late. You can't work all night. Corky eyes her for a moment. CORKY Okay, one drink. VIOLET What do you want? CORKY A beer? VIOLET A beer. Of course. She smiles and turns to the bar. VIOLET Sit down. Corky sits on the black leather couch and Violet returns with two bottles of Heineken. Corky sneers. VIOLET Thanks again. They clink the bottles and swig. VIOLET You seem uncomfortable. Do I make you nervous, Corky? CORKY No. She looks at Violet, then takes another long pull on the bottle. VIOLET Thirsty, maybe. Violet smiles, her eyes again talking for her. CORKY Curious, maybe. VIOLET Curious? That's funny, I'm feeling a bit curious myself right now. Violet notices the tattoo on Corky's arm. VIOLET That's a great tattoo. She reaches over and touches it. VIOLET Beautiful labrys. Corky is a bit suprised that she knows what it is. She nods, rubbing it as if trying to hide it. VIOLET Are you surprised that I know what it is? CORKY Maybe. VIOLET I have a tattoo, would you like to see it? She moves closer, sliding over the leather cushions as she opens the front of her dress. VIOLET A woman in upstate New York did it for me. She is not wearing a bra. VIOLET Here. Do you like it? Set against the soft white skin of her breast is a bright green-stemmed violet. VIOLET It took her all day to do it. She promised me it wouldn't hurt, but it was sore for a long time after. I couldn't even touch it. Corky looks up from Violet's breast to her dark eyes. VIOLET But now I love the way it feels. She runs her fingers softly over the slightly scarred skin. VIOLET Here, touch it. Corky feels the blood pounding in her ears as Violet takes her hand and places it on her breast. CORKY What are you doing? Violet looks at her. VIOLET Isn't it obvious? I'm trying to seduce you. CORKY Why? VIOLET Because I want to. I've wanted to since I first saw you in the elevator. Corky watches her, trying to figure her out even as her thumb presses into Violet's nipple. Inhaling sharply, Violet closes her eyes; she can feel Corky staring at her. VIOLET You don't believe me. But I can prove it to you. She takes Corky's wrist and begins pulling her hand down her body. VIOLET You can't believe me because of what you see ... She forces Corky's hand between her legs, up under her dress. VIOLET But you can believe what you feel. Violet opens her eyes, a wanton smile on her lips. VIOLET You see ... I've been thinking about you all day. Corky's forearm flexes and Violet moans. With both hands, Violet takes hold of Corky's forearm. CORKY You planned this whole thing? Violet's head swims; she is unable to breathe. CORKY You dropped that earring down the drain on purpose, didn't you? VIOLET If I say yes, will you take your hand away? CORKY No. VIOLET ... yes. Now it is Corky who smiles. Violet shivers, her thighs rubbing, her hips thrusting against Corky's hand. VIOLET Please, Corky ... please ... Her eyes barely open. VIOLET ... kiss me. In a single motion, Corky takes hold of the back of her neck and covers Violet's open mouth with her own. With her hand still stuffed between Violet's legs, Corky lays her back onto the couch as the kiss becomes more -- More desperate, more hungry until -- We hear the front door unlock and open. CAESAR Violet? Violet's eyes pop open and she pushes Corky back. CAESAR Violet, you home? They scramble to compose themselves. VIOLET Yeah. In here, C. He comes around the corner and in the dim light sees the two figures sitting close on the couch. CAESAR What's this? He mistakes Corky for a man. CAESAR What the fuck is this? Violet stands as Caesar barrels toward the couch. VIOLET I didn't expect -- CAESAR What the fuck is going on? Corky stands and turns, Caesar suddenly realizing that she is a woman. CAESAR Oh, shit ... VIOLET Caesar, this is Corky. Corky, Caesar. CAESAR I'm sorry, Christ, I thought ... it's fucking dark in here. He reaches to the wall for the lights. VIOLET She is working for Bianchinni. Caesar extends his hand. CAESAR Oh, right, right. Don mentioned that to me. Hi, welcome to the family. Corky shakes his hand. CAESAR You're helping Rajeev? CORKY No. Rajeev's in India. VIOLET She's doing the work herself. CAESAR No shit. Bianchinni hired you? You know he's a good friend of mine. |Family, really. CORKY That's what Violet said. He looks at her as if he knows something. CAESAR So, you just got out? VIOLET Jesus, Caesar! CAESAR What? It ain't no big fuckin' deal. I know who Don hires. Did you know he did time himself? Corky shakes her head. CAESAR Thirteen fucking years. See, there ain't no secrets here. Corky doesn't like this man. CAESAR How many'd you do? CORKY Five. He whistles. CAESAR Not bad. What for? VIOLET That's none of your goddamn business, Caesar. CAESAR You're right. You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to. I just hope you understand you're among good people here. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a thick fold of money and peels several hundreds. Corky stares at it. CAESAR Come on, come on. if you understand what I'm talking about you're going to take the money. if you don't, I'm going to have to worry about you. Corky takes it. Caesar smiles. CAESAR Good. I hate to worry. I got ulcers. CORKY I should be going. CAESAR What? How about a drink? CORKY My brushes, I have to clean my brushes. Thanks, though. CAESAR Another time. CORKY Sure. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - NIGHT Close on the paintbrush, Corky's fingers pushing through and separating the black bristles under the running water. When the brush is clean, she flicks it dry and resets the edge. She goes to the sink to wash her hands when she stops, noticing her left hand. It is the hand that was between Violet's legs. She is about to smell her finger when she sees herself in the mirror. CORKY What are you doing? She drops her hand. CORKY What am I doing? I'm fucking up, that's what I'm doing. She scrubs her hands clean. EXT. PARKING LOT - NIGHT It is late, the area burnished with amber street light. Corky walks from the building to her truck. She climbs inside and slides the key into the ignition, when suddenly the passenger door opens and -- Violet gets in. Stunned, Corky stares at her. VIOLET I had to see you. CORKY Look, I don't think this is a good idea. VIOLET I wanted to apologize. CORKY Don't apologize, please. I can't stand women who apologize for wanting sex. Violet smiles. VIOLET I'm not apologizing for what I did -- She slides across the seat. VIOLET I'm apologizing for what I didn't do. She kisses Corky, and if Corky is trying to resist, we can't tell. The windshield is beginning to steam when Violet, panting, breaks the kiss. VIOLET Do you have a bed somewhere? Unable to speak, Corky reaches over and starts the engine. INT. CORKY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT The sex. There is nothing flower-scented or out-of-focus about it. It is sweaty, slippery, body-grinding, bed-squeaking lesbian sex -- Pungent and potent -- And when it is over, neither woman can move. Finally, Corky's eyes flutter open. CORKY I can see again. Violet smiles. Slowly, Corky gets up and goes to the fridge. She grabs a beer and presses it to her sweating forebead. After a moment, she lowers it, gently pressing the cold can elsewhere. Eyes closed, she lets out a long "Ahh." Violet hears the sizzle-pop of the beer as Corky returns to the bed. She holds the beer to Violet's lips and tilts the can, watching Violet's throat as she drinks. Violet's eyes open. VIOLET ... I needed that. CORKY Tell me about it. Corky hands her the beer as Violet sits up a bit. CORKY Caesar's Mafia, isn't he? VIOLET You have to ask? CORKY No. VIOLET Funny, nobody calls it that anymore. Caesar calls it "The |Business." CORKY How did you meet him? VIOLET They took over a club I was working at. Caesar started managing it. CORKY He's a launderer? VIOLET Basically. CORKY How long have you been with him? VIOLET Almost five years. CORKY Five years is a long time. VIOLET Yes, it is. Corky stares at her beer. She knows what Violet is thinking. CORKY The redistribution of wealth. VIOLET What? CORKY Isn't that what you wanted to know? What I did time for? VIOLET The redistribution of wealth? CORKY That's what I tell someone when I'm trying to get them in my bed. VIOLET I'm already in your bed. CORKY My cellmate would say she did her time for getting caught. She was always more honest than me. Corky sips her beer. CORKY I started stealing when I was little. We were piss-poor, which is not an excuse, just a fact. It isn't like her to talk about this, especially with someone she just met. CORKY The first time I remember so vividly. A bunch of us kids were at Waxman's Drugstore, when Mr. Waxman, who was a mean old prick, always worrying about us robbing him, dropped a roll of quarters. We can almost hear the coins tinkling on the tile floor. CORKY I can still hear that sound, those quarters, because right then something clicked inside of me. Some instinct took over and as everyone, including Waxman, dove down, I reached up and emptied the cash register. Violet smiles. She likes this woman. CORKY I gave most of the money to my mom. I told her I found it at the trainyard. She was so happy she cried, calling me her lucky charm. Fifteen years later, I guess my luck ran out. Sbe swallows that with beer. CORKY Sometimes I tell myself that I didn't have a choice, that stealing was surviving. Usually I can admit that's bullshit. I did it because it was a way out. It was easy and I was good at it, real good. She glances at Violet. CORKY I don't usually talk this much. I guess I have been rehabilitated. Violet laughs. VIOLET You didn't have to tell me if you didn't want to. CORKY I guess I wanted to. VIOLET I'm glad you did. CORKY So am I. EXT. PARKING LOT DAY Corky gets out of her truck carrying her tools. Grinning like someone who has been well-laid, she whistles off to work. EXT. LOBBY - DAY Between the main doors she sees a man. His name is SHELLY and he is an overdressed accountant. He is very nervous, talking to someone through the intercom. SHELLY I know he's gone. Please. I have to talk to you. Fiddling with her keys, Corky recognizes the voice that answers him. VIOLET (V.O.) What do you want, Shelly? Shelly glances over his shoulder at Corky, answering in a hushed voice. SHELLY I have to leave. Tonight. For a moment the intercom is silent. Then the door buzzes and Shelly pushes inside. Corky follows him to the elevator. INT. ELEVATOR - DAY Corky glares at Shelly and begins pumping the trigger of her circular saw. Shelly hides behind his sunglasses, watching the elevator numbers go up. The doors open and he scurries out. INT. HALL - DAY She watches him enter Caesar's apartment, her smile now completely gone. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - DAY It is later. Through the wall we listen to the same sound as before of two people making love. We drop down and find Corky's brush, still wet with paint, abandoned in her tray. INT. BEDROOM - DAY Her face glistening with sweat, Violet climaxes, letting the orgasm spread through her like melting butter. VIOLET I had this image of you, inside of me ... She flattens her palms against the soft cradle of her pelvis. VIOLET Like a part of me ... As she opens her eyes, we see that her lover is Corky. Violet watches as she gets off the bed and begins to get dressed. VIOLET You are so beautiful. Corky does not answer as she yanks her pants on. Violet sits up. She can feel that something is wrong. VIOLET What's wrong? CORKY Nothing. Violet pulls the sheet around her. VIOLET Yes there is. I felt it this morning when I brought you the coffee. CORKY Shit, here we go. VIOLET You didn't want to see me, did you? CORKY If there is one thing I can't stand about sleeping with women, it's all the fucking mind reading. VIOLET What are you afraid of? CORKY I'm not afraid of anything. VIOLET I don't understand - ? CORKY I know! You can't understand, because we're different, Violet. We're different. VIOLET We're not that different, Corky. CORKY How can you sit in that bed and say that? VIOLET Because it's the truth. CORKY Let me guess. This is where you tell me that what matters is on the inside. That inside you, there is a little dyke just like me? VIOLET Oh no, she's nothing like you. She's a lot smarter than you. CORKY Is that what her daddy tells her? VIOLET I know what I am. I don't need to have it tattooed on my shoulder. CORKY What are you saying? That you don't have sex with men? VIOLET I don't. CORKY For Christ's sake, Violet! I heard you! Thin walls, remember? VIOLET What you heard wasn't sex. CORKY What the fuck was it? VIOLET All my life, everyone has been telling me that when I have sex, I'm not really having sex. Not real sex. But they're wrong. I know what is and isn't sex and what you heard was definitely not sex. CORKY What was it then? VIOLET Work. That knocks Corky back. VIOLET You made certain choices in your life that you paid for. You said you made them because you were good at something and it was easy. Do you think you're the only one that's good at something? Violet stare pins Corky to the wall. VIOLET We make our own choices and we pay our own prices. I think we're more alike than you want to admit. CORKY What about that guy this morning? VIOLET You mean Shelly? CORKY Don't tell me, you're a workaholic. VIOLET No. Shelly knows what I am. He saw me in a bar with another woman. CORKY I suppose he just wants to watch. That's all Violet can take. VIOLET Fuck it! I think you better leave. CORKY I think so, too. Violet turns away. VIOLET Try not to steal anything on the way out. That stings but Corky walks out without looking back. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - NIGHT It is dark now. Corky is standing above the paint tray that has skinned over. She picks up the brush. It is dry with paint. CORKY Shit. She throws the brush across the room. EXT. CAESAR'S APARTMENT BUILDING - DAY A green-and-white street sign juts in the foreground of Caesar's upscale apartment building. The sign reads: "FRANKLIN STREET." EXT. PARKING LOT - DAY The rusty Chevy glides to a stop in a parking space near the service entrance. In its payload is a boxed bathroom vanity and sink. Corky climbs out of the cab and into the back, unhooking the bungee cords that hold down the boxes. She looks up as a black Lincoln Town Car screeches into a spot not far from her truck. THREE SERIOUS-LOOKING MEN get out, leading a fourth, Shelly. He is the only one who seems to notice Corky. They enter the building, the door closing behind them. INT. BATHROOM - DAY Corky's legs jut out from the old wicker vanity as she finishes detaching its anchors and pipe work. She stands, giving it a yank and pulling it away from the wall, when voices begin to filter in from the next-door apartment. She listens - a rising string of warbling sobs drowned out by an angry voice. ANGRY VOICE Shut the fuck up! You piece of shit! We hear a scream. ANGRY VOICE You're going to tell us! You're going to fuckin' tell us! just a matter of fuckin' time! Each sentence is punctuated with grunts and thuds. ANGRY VOICE Where is it? Where the fuck is it?! We begin to close in on Corky as she listens to each thud, watching something that disturbs her. ANGRY VOICE You shit! You piece of shit! With each thud the water in the toilet shimmers like a struck cymbal. As we move closer, the sound swells until -- MATCH CUT TO: INT. CAESAR'S BATHROOM DAY Where blood splatters the toilet, heavy drops hitting the water and spreading like inverted mushroom clouds. ANGRY VOICE Did that hurt? News flash, fucko: I'm just getting started. The angry voice belongs to JOHNNIE MARZZONE. Shelly is kneeling in front of the toilet, hands tied behind his back with electrical wire. Johnnie Marzzone is a flashy young man in Armani slacks, silk shirt and silver-tipped cowboy boots. His tie is tucked in, as if torture were a fine-dining experience. Caesar and two other men are crammed in the small bathroom. JOHNNIE You got nerve trying to fuck us! Nobody fucks me! Nobody fucks my father! Nobody! Nobody! Shelly screams as Jobnnie repeatedly rams his face into the toilet. CAESAR Whoa, whoa. Come on, he's making too much noise.

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Bound Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS BOUND Written by Larry & Andy Wachowski FADE IN: Inside a closet. It is a large closet with double doors, a crisp line of light cutting down through the center of the darkness. As we begin to descend, voices echo in our head. VIOLET (V.O.) I had this image of you, inside of me, like a part of me. We move past a shelf filled with hatboxes and handbags. It is a woman's closet. CORKY (V.O.) You planned this whole thing, didn't you? CAESAR (V.O.) Where's the fucking money? We glide over the tightly packed hangers, close enough to feel the different fabrics and descend past the dresses to the racks of high heels. VIOLET (V.O.) We make our own choices, we pay our own prices. CAESAR (V.O.) All part of the business. VIOLET (V.O.) All part of the business. CORKY (V.O.) What choice? We slide along the delicate taper of a stiletto heel and reach the bottom of the closet, where we find a pair of black Dr. Martens boots that are tied together with a white rope. VIOLET (V.O.) I want out. We move up the boots and we see it is a woman who is bound, lying motionless on the floor of the closet, the rope coiling tightly around her wrists. The crack at the bottom of the door lights her face. She is gagged and unconscious, a trickle of blood running down her forehead. Her name is CORKY. VIOLET (V.O.) Like a part of me. CUT TO: INT. ELEVATOR - DAY Leaning against the back of the elevator is Corky, a very butch-looking woman with short hair and a black leather jacket. She is a lesbian and wants people to know it. As the doors begin to slide shut, a woman yells. WOMAN Wait! Hold the elevator. Corky pushes the "open" button. A couple steps into the elevator. His name is CAESAR, a middle-aged Italian, wearing an expensive suit and sunglasses. She is VIOLET; a piece of sexual candy that would melt in your mouth. She hears it again, a guttural sound. CORKY Thanks again for this opportunity, Mr. Bianchinni. Goodbye. She hangs up the phone and walks toward the wall. As she gets closer, we hear a bed rocking, tapping against the wall. The man's breathing grows more and more labored until finally it swells -- DISSOLVING INTO: INT. BATHROOM - MORNING The whining motor of a high-powered drain-rod. The spiral cable whips wildly, spiraling deeper into the tub drain, black goo splattering everywhere. The machine is so loud Corky almost cannot hear someone pounding on the apartment door. Killing the motor, she stands and goes to the door. Behind the door is Violet, wearing jeans, a white T-shirt and cowboy boots. VIOLET Hi. My name is Violet. We sort of met in the elevator -- CORKY Yeah, sure. I'm Corky. VIOLET I heard you working in here and I just wondered if you'd like a cup of coffee? She is holding two cups of coffee: one black, one with cream. CORKY Sure. Come on in. Give me a minute. Violet steps inside as Corky goes back to the bathroom to wash off the drain dreck. VIOLET What happened to Rajeev? Corky calls from the bathroom, scrubbing her hands vigorously. CORKY Who? VIOLET Rajeev, the man who usually works on the building. CORKY Oh, he went home to India, but as far as I know he'll be back. She wipes her hands on her overalls, returning to the main room. VIOLET So this is temporary for you? CORKY Pretty much. One day at a time. Violet hands her the cup of black coffee. VIOLET I guessed you were straight black. CORKY Good guess. They both sip from the piping hot mugs. CORKY Mmmm ... thanks, I needed this. VIOLET My pleasure ... but to be honest, I did have a slightly ulterior motive here. I was wondering if I could ask a small favor? CORKY A favor? VIOLET Yeah, see, I'm kind of a night person, so I was wondering if it wasn't a terrible inconvenience if you could wait a bit before using power tools. CORKY Oh, I'm sorry -- VIOLET No, it isn't your fault. The walls here are just so thin. CORKY Are they really? VIOLET Yes, it really causes problems. Sometimes it's like you're in the same room. But if it's too much trouble, I understand ... CORKY No, no trouble. There's other work to do. VIOLET You're doing everything yourself? CORKY Yeah. VIOLET That is so amazing. I'm in awe of people who can fix things. My dad was like that. We never had anything new. Whenever something broke he would open it up, tinker with it and it would work. His hands were magic. She looks at Corky's hands cupped around the mug. VIOLET Yeah ... I bet your car is twenty years old. Corky smiles. CORKY Truck. VIOLET Truck. Of course. CORKY '63 Chevy. VIOLET I knew it. VIOLET SIPS VIOLET So, how do you know the owner, Mr. Bianchinni? CORKY I don't, really. I was referred to him. VIOLET Oh, really. Corky suddenly feels she has revealed something. CORKY Do you know him? VIOLET No, but Caesar does. He likes him. Says he's a good Italian. CORKY Caesar is your husband? VIOLET Oh no, no. I'm not the marrying kind. Smiling, she says nothing else. VIOLET I should be going. You can drop the cup off anytime. CORKY Thanks. VIOLET My pleasure. CORKY watches her leave. EXT. THE WATERING HOLE - NIGHT A dirty bar hidden away on a dark street, its cracked, moon- white sign the only evidence it exists. Corky's truck swings into a space in front of a couple of large motorcycles. She flips her collar and heads for the door. INT. THE WATERING HOLE - NIGHT The smell of leather and cigarette smoke fills Corky's nose as she crosses to the bar. BARTENDER Well, well ... Corky sits as the fat bartender waddles over. BARTENDER Been awhile, Cork. CORKY Five years, two months, sixteen days. How you doing, Sue? Corky puts a cigarette in her mouth and lights it. SUE Like shit. Now that we're all caught up, how about a drink? Sue opens the refrigerator and pulls out two Old Styles. CORKY Thanks. They click the bottles together and drink. SUE You got a job yet? CORKY Yeah. Some plumbing, painting and shit. Sue laughs. SUE I mean a J-O-B. A real job. CORKY Not for me, Sue. I'm straight and narrow. I'm just here to get laid or drunk and hopefully both. Corky gets off the stool. CORKY Thanks for the beer. Looking around, she sees a woman alone at one of the back tables. Through the smoky din, she bears a slight resemblance to Violet. The woman is dressed all in black, including a leather jacket. Smiling, Corky slides into the chair beside her. There is no one smoother. CORKY Hi. WOMAN Hello. CORKY You know ... that outfit would look great on my bedroom floor. The woman smiles just as someone taps Corky on the shoulder. She turns and is face-to-face with a large bull of a woman in a heavy leather Chicago Police jacket. She is more wide than fat. WOMAN COP Hey, Jesse. What's happening here? CORKY Nothing ... yet. WOMAN COP Who's this? Her coat opens as she puts her hands on her hips. A service revolver is clipped to her belt. She squints at Corky, her head nodding in recognition. WOMAN COP Wait, I know you. CORKY I don't think so. WOMAN COP I didn't know you were out. Corky smiles at the woman in black. CORKY When you get tired of Cagney and Lacey, come find me. She heads for the exit. EXT. CITY STREET - NIGHT The neighborhood would be politely described as "rough." Corky's truck does not stand out parked alone on the littered street. INT. CORKY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT It is a hole but it is home. Corky is lying on her futon staring up at the ceiling, a beer resting on her stomach; a folk singer quietly croons from the radio. We see the ceiling, a circle of light hovering over the small desk lamp. We move in on the spot, which slowly fills up the screen until there is nothing but the white light. Suddenly a wet paint roller loaded with white paint cuts a swath across the ceiling. MATCH CUT TO: INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - DAY Corky is painting the ceiling. The folk ballad has become an angry Riot Grrrl anthem. She is working hard, the roller sucking back and forth. Sweat covers her face. Dropping the roller down, she reloads it in the tray when the phone rings. She stops and answers it. CORKY Hello? Oh, hi, Mr. Bianchinni ... yes, everything is going fine. I got the tub drain all cleaned out. She listens for a moment. CORKY What apartment? She glances at the main wall. CORKY All right, all right, I guess I could take a look. Yeah, you're welcome, goodbye. She hangs up and looks again at the wall, feeling... curious. INT. HALL - NIGHT Corky knocks and after a moment Violet opens the door. She seems surprised. VIOLET Oh no. Shit. I didn't know he would call you. God, you must think |I'm a total nuisance. CORKY Not exactly. VIOLET I'm sorry, I usually would call Rajeev, but I didn't know what to do so I called Mr. Bianchinni. CORKY He said you lost something. VIOLET Yeah, come on in. She steps back and Corky walks inside. INT. CAESAR'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Violet leads her through the apartment. It is expensively furnished with very masculine tastes; a lot of gray and black leather. VIOLET I was doing some dishes and just as I pulled the stopper my earring fell in. Corky looks at her blankly. VIOLET It's one of my favorites. That's why I got upset. I know it probably seems ridiculous to you. An eyebrow goes up. VIOLET I'm sorry, look, forget it. I shouldn't have called... CORKY I told Bianchinni I would take a look. Is it that sink? Violet nods. She opens the sink cabinet and pulls out a pair of channel locks from her back pocket. The teeth of the channel locks open and bite onto the pressure nut. CORKY Do you have a pot or a bucket? VIOLET Sure. She hands one down to her. Corky slides it under the curved pipe. As she works, Corky feels herself staring at Violet, at the hem of her dress curving tightly around her thighs. Water begins to trickle into the pan. The nut slides loose and Corky tips the trap. Water splashes into the pan with a soft metal "tink." VIOLET Did you find it? Corky fishes into gray water and pulls out the earring. Violet screams, a huge smile on her face, half-falling as she tries to hug Corky. VIOLET I can't believe it! You did it! Corky leans back under and replaces the trap. VIOLET Thank you so much. You have to let me pay you something -- CORKY No. Mr. Bianchinni asked me to do it. I did it. Corky checks the drain by running the water. VIOLET If you won't take money, how about a drink? It's getting late. You can't work all night. Corky eyes her for a moment. CORKY Okay, one drink. VIOLET What do you want? CORKY A beer? VIOLET A beer. Of course. She smiles and turns to the bar. VIOLET Sit down. Corky sits on the black leather couch and Violet returns with two bottles of Heineken. Corky sneers. VIOLET Thanks again. They clink the bottles and swig. VIOLET You seem uncomfortable. Do I make you nervous, Corky? CORKY No. She looks at Violet, then takes another long pull on the bottle. VIOLET Thirsty, maybe. Violet smiles, her eyes again talking for her. CORKY Curious, maybe. VIOLET Curious? That's funny, I'm feeling a bit curious myself right now. Violet notices the tattoo on Corky's arm. VIOLET That's a great tattoo. She reaches over and touches it. VIOLET Beautiful labrys. Corky is a bit suprised that she knows what it is. She nods, rubbing it as if trying to hide it. VIOLET Are you surprised that I know what it is? CORKY Maybe. VIOLET I have a tattoo, would you like to see it? She moves closer, sliding over the leather cushions as she opens the front of her dress. VIOLET A woman in upstate New York did it for me. She is not wearing a bra. VIOLET Here. Do you like it? Set against the soft white skin of her breast is a bright green-stemmed violet. VIOLET It took her all day to do it. She promised me it wouldn't hurt, but it was sore for a long time after. I couldn't even touch it. Corky looks up from Violet's breast to her dark eyes. VIOLET But now I love the way it feels. She runs her fingers softly over the slightly scarred skin. VIOLET Here, touch it. Corky feels the blood pounding in her ears as Violet takes her hand and places it on her breast. CORKY What are you doing? Violet looks at her. VIOLET Isn't it obvious? I'm trying to seduce you. CORKY Why? VIOLET Because I want to. I've wanted to since I first saw you in the elevator. Corky watches her, trying to figure her out even as her thumb presses into Violet's nipple. Inhaling sharply, Violet closes her eyes; she can feel Corky staring at her. VIOLET You don't believe me. But I can prove it to you. She takes Corky's wrist and begins pulling her hand down her body. VIOLET You can't believe me because of what you see ... She forces Corky's hand between her legs, up under her dress. VIOLET But you can believe what you feel. Violet opens her eyes, a wanton smile on her lips. VIOLET You see ... I've been thinking about you all day. Corky's forearm flexes and Violet moans. With both hands, Violet takes hold of Corky's forearm. CORKY You planned this whole thing? Violet's head swims; she is unable to breathe. CORKY You dropped that earring down the drain on purpose, didn't you? VIOLET If I say yes, will you take your hand away? CORKY No. VIOLET ... yes. Now it is Corky who smiles. Violet shivers, her thighs rubbing, her hips thrusting against Corky's hand. VIOLET Please, Corky ... please ... Her eyes barely open. VIOLET ... kiss me. In a single motion, Corky takes hold of the back of her neck and covers Violet's open mouth with her own. With her hand still stuffed between Violet's legs, Corky lays her back onto the couch as the kiss becomes more -- More desperate, more hungry until -- We hear the front door unlock and open. CAESAR Violet? Violet's eyes pop open and she pushes Corky back. CAESAR Violet, you home? They scramble to compose themselves. VIOLET Yeah. In here, C. He comes around the corner and in the dim light sees the two figures sitting close on the couch. CAESAR What's this? He mistakes Corky for a man. CAESAR What the fuck is this? Violet stands as Caesar barrels toward the couch. VIOLET I didn't expect -- CAESAR What the fuck is going on? Corky stands and turns, Caesar suddenly realizing that she is a woman. CAESAR Oh, shit ... VIOLET Caesar, this is Corky. Corky, Caesar. CAESAR I'm sorry, Christ, I thought ... it's fucking dark in here. He reaches to the wall for the lights. VIOLET She is working for Bianchinni. Caesar extends his hand. CAESAR Oh, right, right. Don mentioned that to me. Hi, welcome to the family. Corky shakes his hand. CAESAR You're helping Rajeev? CORKY No. Rajeev's in India. VIOLET She's doing the work herself. CAESAR No shit. Bianchinni hired you? You know he's a good friend of mine. |Family, really. CORKY That's what Violet said. He looks at her as if he knows something. CAESAR So, you just got out? VIOLET Jesus, Caesar! CAESAR What? It ain't no big fuckin' deal. I know who Don hires. Did you know he did time himself? Corky shakes her head. CAESAR Thirteen fucking years. See, there ain't no secrets here. Corky doesn't like this man. CAESAR How many'd you do? CORKY Five. He whistles. CAESAR Not bad. What for? VIOLET That's none of your goddamn business, Caesar. CAESAR You're right. You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to. I just hope you understand you're among good people here. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a thick fold of money and peels several hundreds. Corky stares at it. CAESAR Come on, come on. if you understand what I'm talking about you're going to take the money. if you don't, I'm going to have to worry about you. Corky takes it. Caesar smiles. CAESAR Good. I hate to worry. I got ulcers. CORKY I should be going. CAESAR What? How about a drink? CORKY My brushes, I have to clean my brushes. Thanks, though. CAESAR Another time. CORKY Sure. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - NIGHT Close on the paintbrush, Corky's fingers pushing through and separating the black bristles under the running water. When the brush is clean, she flicks it dry and resets the edge. She goes to the sink to wash her hands when she stops, noticing her left hand. It is the hand that was between Violet's legs. She is about to smell her finger when she sees herself in the mirror. CORKY What are you doing? She drops her hand. CORKY What am I doing? I'm fucking up, that's what I'm doing. She scrubs her hands clean. EXT. PARKING LOT - NIGHT It is late, the area burnished with amber street light. Corky walks from the building to her truck. She climbs inside and slides the key into the ignition, when suddenly the passenger door opens and -- Violet gets in. Stunned, Corky stares at her. VIOLET I had to see you. CORKY Look, I don't think this is a good idea. VIOLET I wanted to apologize. CORKY Don't apologize, please. I can't stand women who apologize for wanting sex. Violet smiles. VIOLET I'm not apologizing for what I did -- She slides across the seat. VIOLET I'm apologizing for what I didn't do. She kisses Corky, and if Corky is trying to resist, we can't tell. The windshield is beginning to steam when Violet, panting, breaks the kiss. VIOLET Do you have a bed somewhere? Unable to speak, Corky reaches over and starts the engine. INT. CORKY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT The sex. There is nothing flower-scented or out-of-focus about it. It is sweaty, slippery, body-grinding, bed-squeaking lesbian sex -- Pungent and potent -- And when it is over, neither woman can move. Finally, Corky's eyes flutter open. CORKY I can see again. Violet smiles. Slowly, Corky gets up and goes to the fridge. She grabs a beer and presses it to her sweating forebead. After a moment, she lowers it, gently pressing the cold can elsewhere. Eyes closed, she lets out a long "Ahh." Violet hears the sizzle-pop of the beer as Corky returns to the bed. She holds the beer to Violet's lips and tilts the can, watching Violet's throat as she drinks. Violet's eyes open. VIOLET ... I needed that. CORKY Tell me about it. Corky hands her the beer as Violet sits up a bit. CORKY Caesar's Mafia, isn't he? VIOLET You have to ask? CORKY No. VIOLET Funny, nobody calls it that anymore. Caesar calls it "The |Business." CORKY How did you meet him? VIOLET They took over a club I was working at. Caesar started managing it. CORKY He's a launderer? VIOLET Basically. CORKY How long have you been with him? VIOLET Almost five years. CORKY Five years is a long time. VIOLET Yes, it is. Corky stares at her beer. She knows what Violet is thinking. CORKY The redistribution of wealth. VIOLET What? CORKY Isn't that what you wanted to know? What I did time for? VIOLET The redistribution of wealth? CORKY That's what I tell someone when I'm trying to get them in my bed. VIOLET I'm already in your bed. CORKY My cellmate would say she did her time for getting caught. She was always more honest than me. Corky sips her beer. CORKY I started stealing when I was little. We were piss-poor, which is not an excuse, just a fact. It isn't like her to talk about this, especially with someone she just met. CORKY The first time I remember so vividly. A bunch of us kids were at Waxman's Drugstore, when Mr. Waxman, who was a mean old prick, always worrying about us robbing him, dropped a roll of quarters. We can almost hear the coins tinkling on the tile floor. CORKY I can still hear that sound, those quarters, because right then something clicked inside of me. Some instinct took over and as everyone, including Waxman, dove down, I reached up and emptied the cash register. Violet smiles. She likes this woman. CORKY I gave most of the money to my mom. I told her I found it at the trainyard. She was so happy she cried, calling me her lucky charm. Fifteen years later, I guess my luck ran out. Sbe swallows that with beer. CORKY Sometimes I tell myself that I didn't have a choice, that stealing was surviving. Usually I can admit that's bullshit. I did it because it was a way out. It was easy and I was good at it, real good. She glances at Violet. CORKY I don't usually talk this much. I guess I have been rehabilitated. Violet laughs. VIOLET You didn't have to tell me if you didn't want to. CORKY I guess I wanted to. VIOLET I'm glad you did. CORKY So am I. EXT. PARKING LOT DAY Corky gets out of her truck carrying her tools. Grinning like someone who has been well-laid, she whistles off to work. EXT. LOBBY - DAY Between the main doors she sees a man. His name is SHELLY and he is an overdressed accountant. He is very nervous, talking to someone through the intercom. SHELLY I know he's gone. Please. I have to talk to you. Fiddling with her keys, Corky recognizes the voice that answers him. VIOLET (V.O.) What do you want, Shelly? Shelly glances over his shoulder at Corky, answering in a hushed voice. SHELLY I have to leave. Tonight. For a moment the intercom is silent. Then the door buzzes and Shelly pushes inside. Corky follows him to the elevator. INT. ELEVATOR - DAY Corky glares at Shelly and begins pumping the trigger of her circular saw. Shelly hides behind his sunglasses, watching the elevator numbers go up. The doors open and he scurries out. INT. HALL - DAY She watches him enter Caesar's apartment, her smile now completely gone. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - DAY It is later. Through the wall we listen to the same sound as before of two people making love. We drop down and find Corky's brush, still wet with paint, abandoned in her tray. INT. BEDROOM - DAY Her face glistening with sweat, Violet climaxes, letting the orgasm spread through her like melting butter. VIOLET I had this image of you, inside of me ... She flattens her palms against the soft cradle of her pelvis. VIOLET Like a part of me ... As she opens her eyes, we see that her lover is Corky. Violet watches as she gets off the bed and begins to get dressed. VIOLET You are so beautiful. Corky does not answer as she yanks her pants on. Violet sits up. She can feel that something is wrong. VIOLET What's wrong? CORKY Nothing. Violet pulls the sheet around her. VIOLET Yes there is. I felt it this morning when I brought you the coffee. CORKY Shit, here we go. VIOLET You didn't want to see me, did you? CORKY If there is one thing I can't stand about sleeping with women, it's all the fucking mind reading. VIOLET What are you afraid of? CORKY I'm not afraid of anything. VIOLET I don't understand - ? CORKY I know! You can't understand, because we're different, Violet. We're different. VIOLET We're not that different, Corky. CORKY How can you sit in that bed and say that? VIOLET Because it's the truth. CORKY Let me guess. This is where you tell me that what matters is on the inside. That inside you, there is a little dyke just like me? VIOLET Oh no, she's nothing like you. She's a lot smarter than you. CORKY Is that what her daddy tells her? VIOLET I know what I am. I don't need to have it tattooed on my shoulder. CORKY What are you saying? That you don't have sex with men? VIOLET I don't. CORKY For Christ's sake, Violet! I heard you! Thin walls, remember? VIOLET What you heard wasn't sex. CORKY What the fuck was it? VIOLET All my life, everyone has been telling me that when I have sex, I'm not really having sex. Not real sex. But they're wrong. I know what is and isn't sex and what you heard was definitely not sex. CORKY What was it then? VIOLET Work. That knocks Corky back. VIOLET You made certain choices in your life that you paid for. You said you made them because you were good at something and it was easy. Do you think you're the only one that's good at something? Violet stare pins Corky to the wall. VIOLET We make our own choices and we pay our own prices. I think we're more alike than you want to admit. CORKY What about that guy this morning? VIOLET You mean Shelly? CORKY Don't tell me, you're a workaholic. VIOLET No. Shelly knows what I am. He saw me in a bar with another woman. CORKY I suppose he just wants to watch. That's all Violet can take. VIOLET Fuck it! I think you better leave. CORKY I think so, too. Violet turns away. VIOLET Try not to steal anything on the way out. That stings but Corky walks out without looking back. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - NIGHT It is dark now. Corky is standing above the paint tray that has skinned over. She picks up the brush. It is dry with paint. CORKY Shit. She throws the brush across the room. EXT. CAESAR'S APARTMENT BUILDING - DAY A green-and-white street sign juts in the foreground of Caesar's upscale apartment building. The sign reads: "FRANKLIN STREET." EXT. PARKING LOT - DAY The rusty Chevy glides to a stop in a parking space near the service entrance. In its payload is a boxed bathroom vanity and sink. Corky climbs out of the cab and into the back, unhooking the bungee cords that hold down the boxes. She looks up as a black Lincoln Town Car screeches into a spot not far from her truck. THREE SERIOUS-LOOKING MEN get out, leading a fourth, Shelly. He is the only one who seems to notice Corky. They enter the building, the door closing behind them. INT. BATHROOM - DAY Corky's legs jut out from the old wicker vanity as she finishes detaching its anchors and pipe work. She stands, giving it a yank and pulling it away from the wall, when voices begin to filter in from the next-door apartment. She listens - a rising string of warbling sobs drowned out by an angry voice. ANGRY VOICE Shut the fuck up! You piece of shit! We hear a scream. ANGRY VOICE You're going to tell us! You're going to fuckin' tell us! just a matter of fuckin' time! Each sentence is punctuated with grunts and thuds. ANGRY VOICE Where is it? Where the fuck is it?! We begin to close in on Corky as she listens to each thud, watching something that disturbs her. ANGRY VOICE You shit! You piece of shit! With each thud the water in the toilet shimmers like a struck cymbal. As we move closer, the sound swells until -- MATCH CUT TO: INT. CAESAR'S BATHROOM DAY Where blood splatters the toilet, heavy drops hitting the water and spreading like inverted mushroom clouds. ANGRY VOICE Did that hurt? News flash, fucko: I'm just getting started. The angry voice belongs to JOHNNIE MARZZONE. Shelly is kneeling in front of the toilet, hands tied behind his back with electrical wire. Johnnie Marzzone is a flashy young man in Armani slacks, silk shirt and silver-tipped cowboy boots. His tie is tucked in, as if torture were a fine-dining experience. Caesar and two other men are crammed in the small bathroom. JOHNNIE You got nerve trying to fuck us! Nobody fucks me! Nobody fucks my father! Nobody! Nobody! Shelly screams as Jobnnie repeatedly rams his face into the toilet. CAESAR Whoa, whoa. Come on, he's making too much noise.

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Bound Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS BOUND Written by Larry & Andy Wachowski FADE IN: Inside a closet. It is a large closet with double doors, a crisp line of light cutting down through the center of the darkness. As we begin to descend, voices echo in our head. VIOLET (V.O.) I had this image of you, inside of me, like a part of me. We move past a shelf filled with hatboxes and handbags. It is a woman's closet. CORKY (V.O.) You planned this whole thing, didn't you? CAESAR (V.O.) Where's the fucking money? We glide over the tightly packed hangers, close enough to feel the different fabrics and descend past the dresses to the racks of high heels. VIOLET (V.O.) We make our own choices, we pay our own prices. CAESAR (V.O.) All part of the business. VIOLET (V.O.) All part of the business. CORKY (V.O.) What choice? We slide along the delicate taper of a stiletto heel and reach the bottom of the closet, where we find a pair of black Dr. Martens boots that are tied together with a white rope. VIOLET (V.O.) I want out. We move up the boots and we see it is a woman who is bound, lying motionless on the floor of the closet, the rope coiling tightly around her wrists. The crack at the bottom of the door lights her face. She is gagged and unconscious, a trickle of blood running down her forehead. Her name is CORKY. VIOLET (V.O.) Like a part of me. CUT TO: INT. ELEVATOR - DAY Leaning against the back of the elevator is Corky, a very butch-looking woman with short hair and a black leather jacket. She is a lesbian and wants people to know it. As the doors begin to slide shut, a woman yells. WOMAN Wait! Hold the elevator. Corky pushes the "open" button. A couple steps into the elevator. His name is CAESAR, a middle-aged Italian, wearing an expensive suit and sunglasses. She is VIOLET; a piece of sexual candy that would melt in your mouth. She hears it again, a guttural sound. CORKY Thanks again for this opportunity, Mr. Bianchinni. Goodbye. She hangs up the phone and walks toward the wall. As she gets closer, we hear a bed rocking, tapping against the wall. The man's breathing grows more and more labored until finally it swells -- DISSOLVING INTO: INT. BATHROOM - MORNING The whining motor of a high-powered drain-rod. The spiral cable whips wildly, spiraling deeper into the tub drain, black goo splattering everywhere. The machine is so loud Corky almost cannot hear someone pounding on the apartment door. Killing the motor, she stands and goes to the door. Behind the door is Violet, wearing jeans, a white T-shirt and cowboy boots. VIOLET Hi. My name is Violet. We sort of met in the elevator -- CORKY Yeah, sure. I'm Corky. VIOLET I heard you working in here and I just wondered if you'd like a cup of coffee? She is holding two cups of coffee: one black, one with cream. CORKY Sure. Come on in. Give me a minute. Violet steps inside as Corky goes back to the bathroom to wash off the drain dreck. VIOLET What happened to Rajeev? Corky calls from the bathroom, scrubbing her hands vigorously. CORKY Who? VIOLET Rajeev, the man who usually works on the building. CORKY Oh, he went home to India, but as far as I know he'll be back. She wipes her hands on her overalls, returning to the main room. VIOLET So this is temporary for you? CORKY Pretty much. One day at a time. Violet hands her the cup of black coffee. VIOLET I guessed you were straight black. CORKY Good guess. They both sip from the piping hot mugs. CORKY Mmmm ... thanks, I needed this. VIOLET My pleasure ... but to be honest, I did have a slightly ulterior motive here. I was wondering if I could ask a small favor? CORKY A favor? VIOLET Yeah, see, I'm kind of a night person, so I was wondering if it wasn't a terrible inconvenience if you could wait a bit before using power tools. CORKY Oh, I'm sorry -- VIOLET No, it isn't your fault. The walls here are just so thin. CORKY Are they really? VIOLET Yes, it really causes problems. Sometimes it's like you're in the same room. But if it's too much trouble, I understand ... CORKY No, no trouble. There's other work to do. VIOLET You're doing everything yourself? CORKY Yeah. VIOLET That is so amazing. I'm in awe of people who can fix things. My dad was like that. We never had anything new. Whenever something broke he would open it up, tinker with it and it would work. His hands were magic. She looks at Corky's hands cupped around the mug. VIOLET Yeah ... I bet your car is twenty years old. Corky smiles. CORKY Truck. VIOLET Truck. Of course. CORKY '63 Chevy. VIOLET I knew it. VIOLET SIPS VIOLET So, how do you know the owner, Mr. Bianchinni? CORKY I don't, really. I was referred to him. VIOLET Oh, really. Corky suddenly feels she has revealed something. CORKY Do you know him? VIOLET No, but Caesar does. He likes him. Says he's a good Italian. CORKY Caesar is your husband? VIOLET Oh no, no. I'm not the marrying kind. Smiling, she says nothing else. VIOLET I should be going. You can drop the cup off anytime. CORKY Thanks. VIOLET My pleasure. CORKY watches her leave. EXT. THE WATERING HOLE - NIGHT A dirty bar hidden away on a dark street, its cracked, moon- white sign the only evidence it exists. Corky's truck swings into a space in front of a couple of large motorcycles. She flips her collar and heads for the door. INT. THE WATERING HOLE - NIGHT The smell of leather and cigarette smoke fills Corky's nose as she crosses to the bar. BARTENDER Well, well ... Corky sits as the fat bartender waddles over. BARTENDER Been awhile, Cork. CORKY Five years, two months, sixteen days. How you doing, Sue? Corky puts a cigarette in her mouth and lights it. SUE Like shit. Now that we're all caught up, how about a drink? Sue opens the refrigerator and pulls out two Old Styles. CORKY Thanks. They click the bottles together and drink. SUE You got a job yet? CORKY Yeah. Some plumbing, painting and shit. Sue laughs. SUE I mean a J-O-B. A real job. CORKY Not for me, Sue. I'm straight and narrow. I'm just here to get laid or drunk and hopefully both. Corky gets off the stool. CORKY Thanks for the beer. Looking around, she sees a woman alone at one of the back tables. Through the smoky din, she bears a slight resemblance to Violet. The woman is dressed all in black, including a leather jacket. Smiling, Corky slides into the chair beside her. There is no one smoother. CORKY Hi. WOMAN Hello. CORKY You know ... that outfit would look great on my bedroom floor. The woman smiles just as someone taps Corky on the shoulder. She turns and is face-to-face with a large bull of a woman in a heavy leather Chicago Police jacket. She is more wide than fat. WOMAN COP Hey, Jesse. What's happening here? CORKY Nothing ... yet. WOMAN COP Who's this? Her coat opens as she puts her hands on her hips. A service revolver is clipped to her belt. She squints at Corky, her head nodding in recognition. WOMAN COP Wait, I know you. CORKY I don't think so. WOMAN COP I didn't know you were out. Corky smiles at the woman in black. CORKY When you get tired of Cagney and Lacey, come find me. She heads for the exit. EXT. CITY STREET - NIGHT The neighborhood would be politely described as "rough." Corky's truck does not stand out parked alone on the littered street. INT. CORKY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT It is a hole but it is home. Corky is lying on her futon staring up at the ceiling, a beer resting on her stomach; a folk singer quietly croons from the radio. We see the ceiling, a circle of light hovering over the small desk lamp. We move in on the spot, which slowly fills up the screen until there is nothing but the white light. Suddenly a wet paint roller loaded with white paint cuts a swath across the ceiling. MATCH CUT TO: INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - DAY Corky is painting the ceiling. The folk ballad has become an angry Riot Grrrl anthem. She is working hard, the roller sucking back and forth. Sweat covers her face. Dropping the roller down, she reloads it in the tray when the phone rings. She stops and answers it. CORKY Hello? Oh, hi, Mr. Bianchinni ... yes, everything is going fine. I got the tub drain all cleaned out. She listens for a moment. CORKY What apartment? She glances at the main wall. CORKY All right, all right, I guess I could take a look. Yeah, you're welcome, goodbye. She hangs up and looks again at the wall, feeling... curious. INT. HALL - NIGHT Corky knocks and after a moment Violet opens the door. She seems surprised. VIOLET Oh no. Shit. I didn't know he would call you. God, you must think |I'm a total nuisance. CORKY Not exactly. VIOLET I'm sorry, I usually would call Rajeev, but I didn't know what to do so I called Mr. Bianchinni. CORKY He said you lost something. VIOLET Yeah, come on in. She steps back and Corky walks inside. INT. CAESAR'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Violet leads her through the apartment. It is expensively furnished with very masculine tastes; a lot of gray and black leather. VIOLET I was doing some dishes and just as I pulled the stopper my earring fell in. Corky looks at her blankly. VIOLET It's one of my favorites. That's why I got upset. I know it probably seems ridiculous to you. An eyebrow goes up. VIOLET I'm sorry, look, forget it. I shouldn't have called... CORKY I told Bianchinni I would take a look. Is it that sink? Violet nods. She opens the sink cabinet and pulls out a pair of channel locks from her back pocket. The teeth of the channel locks open and bite onto the pressure nut. CORKY Do you have a pot or a bucket? VIOLET Sure. She hands one down to her. Corky slides it under the curved pipe. As she works, Corky feels herself staring at Violet, at the hem of her dress curving tightly around her thighs. Water begins to trickle into the pan. The nut slides loose and Corky tips the trap. Water splashes into the pan with a soft metal "tink." VIOLET Did you find it? Corky fishes into gray water and pulls out the earring. Violet screams, a huge smile on her face, half-falling as she tries to hug Corky. VIOLET I can't believe it! You did it! Corky leans back under and replaces the trap. VIOLET Thank you so much. You have to let me pay you something -- CORKY No. Mr. Bianchinni asked me to do it. I did it. Corky checks the drain by running the water. VIOLET If you won't take money, how about a drink? It's getting late. You can't work all night. Corky eyes her for a moment. CORKY Okay, one drink. VIOLET What do you want? CORKY A beer? VIOLET A beer. Of course. She smiles and turns to the bar. VIOLET Sit down. Corky sits on the black leather couch and Violet returns with two bottles of Heineken. Corky sneers. VIOLET Thanks again. They clink the bottles and swig. VIOLET You seem uncomfortable. Do I make you nervous, Corky? CORKY No. She looks at Violet, then takes another long pull on the bottle. VIOLET Thirsty, maybe. Violet smiles, her eyes again talking for her. CORKY Curious, maybe. VIOLET Curious? That's funny, I'm feeling a bit curious myself right now. Violet notices the tattoo on Corky's arm. VIOLET That's a great tattoo. She reaches over and touches it. VIOLET Beautiful labrys. Corky is a bit suprised that she knows what it is. She nods, rubbing it as if trying to hide it. VIOLET Are you surprised that I know what it is? CORKY Maybe. VIOLET I have a tattoo, would you like to see it? She moves closer, sliding over the leather cushions as she opens the front of her dress. VIOLET A woman in upstate New York did it for me. She is not wearing a bra. VIOLET Here. Do you like it? Set against the soft white skin of her breast is a bright green-stemmed violet. VIOLET It took her all day to do it. She promised me it wouldn't hurt, but it was sore for a long time after. I couldn't even touch it. Corky looks up from Violet's breast to her dark eyes. VIOLET But now I love the way it feels. She runs her fingers softly over the slightly scarred skin. VIOLET Here, touch it. Corky feels the blood pounding in her ears as Violet takes her hand and places it on her breast. CORKY What are you doing? Violet looks at her. VIOLET Isn't it obvious? I'm trying to seduce you. CORKY Why? VIOLET Because I want to. I've wanted to since I first saw you in the elevator. Corky watches her, trying to figure her out even as her thumb presses into Violet's nipple. Inhaling sharply, Violet closes her eyes; she can feel Corky staring at her. VIOLET You don't believe me. But I can prove it to you. She takes Corky's wrist and begins pulling her hand down her body. VIOLET You can't believe me because of what you see ... She forces Corky's hand between her legs, up under her dress. VIOLET But you can believe what you feel. Violet opens her eyes, a wanton smile on her lips. VIOLET You see ... I've been thinking about you all day. Corky's forearm flexes and Violet moans. With both hands, Violet takes hold of Corky's forearm. CORKY You planned this whole thing? Violet's head swims; she is unable to breathe. CORKY You dropped that earring down the drain on purpose, didn't you? VIOLET If I say yes, will you take your hand away? CORKY No. VIOLET ... yes. Now it is Corky who smiles. Violet shivers, her thighs rubbing, her hips thrusting against Corky's hand. VIOLET Please, Corky ... please ... Her eyes barely open. VIOLET ... kiss me. In a single motion, Corky takes hold of the back of her neck and covers Violet's open mouth with her own. With her hand still stuffed between Violet's legs, Corky lays her back onto the couch as the kiss becomes more -- More desperate, more hungry until -- We hear the front door unlock and open. CAESAR Violet? Violet's eyes pop open and she pushes Corky back. CAESAR Violet, you home? They scramble to compose themselves. VIOLET Yeah. In here, C. He comes around the corner and in the dim light sees the two figures sitting close on the couch. CAESAR What's this? He mistakes Corky for a man. CAESAR What the fuck is this? Violet stands as Caesar barrels toward the couch. VIOLET I didn't expect -- CAESAR What the fuck is going on? Corky stands and turns, Caesar suddenly realizing that she is a woman. CAESAR Oh, shit ... VIOLET Caesar, this is Corky. Corky, Caesar. CAESAR I'm sorry, Christ, I thought ... it's fucking dark in here. He reaches to the wall for the lights. VIOLET She is working for Bianchinni. Caesar extends his hand. CAESAR Oh, right, right. Don mentioned that to me. Hi, welcome to the family. Corky shakes his hand. CAESAR You're helping Rajeev? CORKY No. Rajeev's in India. VIOLET She's doing the work herself. CAESAR No shit. Bianchinni hired you? You know he's a good friend of mine. |Family, really. CORKY That's what Violet said. He looks at her as if he knows something. CAESAR So, you just got out? VIOLET Jesus, Caesar! CAESAR What? It ain't no big fuckin' deal. I know who Don hires. Did you know he did time himself? Corky shakes her head. CAESAR Thirteen fucking years. See, there ain't no secrets here. Corky doesn't like this man. CAESAR How many'd you do? CORKY Five. He whistles. CAESAR Not bad. What for? VIOLET That's none of your goddamn business, Caesar. CAESAR You're right. You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to. I just hope you understand you're among good people here. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a thick fold of money and peels several hundreds. Corky stares at it. CAESAR Come on, come on. if you understand what I'm talking about you're going to take the money. if you don't, I'm going to have to worry about you. Corky takes it. Caesar smiles. CAESAR Good. I hate to worry. I got ulcers. CORKY I should be going. CAESAR What? How about a drink? CORKY My brushes, I have to clean my brushes. Thanks, though. CAESAR Another time. CORKY Sure. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - NIGHT Close on the paintbrush, Corky's fingers pushing through and separating the black bristles under the running water. When the brush is clean, she flicks it dry and resets the edge. She goes to the sink to wash her hands when she stops, noticing her left hand. It is the hand that was between Violet's legs. She is about to smell her finger when she sees herself in the mirror. CORKY What are you doing? She drops her hand. CORKY What am I doing? I'm fucking up, that's what I'm doing. She scrubs her hands clean. EXT. PARKING LOT - NIGHT It is late, the area burnished with amber street light. Corky walks from the building to her truck. She climbs inside and slides the key into the ignition, when suddenly the passenger door opens and -- Violet gets in. Stunned, Corky stares at her. VIOLET I had to see you. CORKY Look, I don't think this is a good idea. VIOLET I wanted to apologize. CORKY Don't apologize, please. I can't stand women who apologize for wanting sex. Violet smiles. VIOLET I'm not apologizing for what I did -- She slides across the seat. VIOLET I'm apologizing for what I didn't do. She kisses Corky, and if Corky is trying to resist, we can't tell. The windshield is beginning to steam when Violet, panting, breaks the kiss. VIOLET Do you have a bed somewhere? Unable to speak, Corky reaches over and starts the engine. INT. CORKY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT The sex. There is nothing flower-scented or out-of-focus about it. It is sweaty, slippery, body-grinding, bed-squeaking lesbian sex -- Pungent and potent -- And when it is over, neither woman can move. Finally, Corky's eyes flutter open. CORKY I can see again. Violet smiles. Slowly, Corky gets up and goes to the fridge. She grabs a beer and presses it to her sweating forebead. After a moment, she lowers it, gently pressing the cold can elsewhere. Eyes closed, she lets out a long "Ahh." Violet hears the sizzle-pop of the beer as Corky returns to the bed. She holds the beer to Violet's lips and tilts the can, watching Violet's throat as she drinks. Violet's eyes open. VIOLET ... I needed that. CORKY Tell me about it. Corky hands her the beer as Violet sits up a bit. CORKY Caesar's Mafia, isn't he? VIOLET You have to ask? CORKY No. VIOLET Funny, nobody calls it that anymore. Caesar calls it "The |Business." CORKY How did you meet him? VIOLET They took over a club I was working at. Caesar started managing it. CORKY He's a launderer? VIOLET Basically. CORKY How long have you been with him? VIOLET Almost five years. CORKY Five years is a long time. VIOLET Yes, it is. Corky stares at her beer. She knows what Violet is thinking. CORKY The redistribution of wealth. VIOLET What? CORKY Isn't that what you wanted to know? What I did time for? VIOLET The redistribution of wealth? CORKY That's what I tell someone when I'm trying to get them in my bed. VIOLET I'm already in your bed. CORKY My cellmate would say she did her time for getting caught. She was always more honest than me. Corky sips her beer. CORKY I started stealing when I was little. We were piss-poor, which is not an excuse, just a fact. It isn't like her to talk about this, especially with someone she just met. CORKY The first time I remember so vividly. A bunch of us kids were at Waxman's Drugstore, when Mr. Waxman, who was a mean old prick, always worrying about us robbing him, dropped a roll of quarters. We can almost hear the coins tinkling on the tile floor. CORKY I can still hear that sound, those quarters, because right then something clicked inside of me. Some instinct took over and as everyone, including Waxman, dove down, I reached up and emptied the cash register. Violet smiles. She likes this woman. CORKY I gave most of the money to my mom. I told her I found it at the trainyard. She was so happy she cried, calling me her lucky charm. Fifteen years later, I guess my luck ran out. Sbe swallows that with beer. CORKY Sometimes I tell myself that I didn't have a choice, that stealing was surviving. Usually I can admit that's bullshit. I did it because it was a way out. It was easy and I was good at it, real good. She glances at Violet. CORKY I don't usually talk this much. I guess I have been rehabilitated. Violet laughs. VIOLET You didn't have to tell me if you didn't want to. CORKY I guess I wanted to. VIOLET I'm glad you did. CORKY So am I. EXT. PARKING LOT DAY Corky gets out of her truck carrying her tools. Grinning like someone who has been well-laid, she whistles off to work. EXT. LOBBY - DAY Between the main doors she sees a man. His name is SHELLY and he is an overdressed accountant. He is very nervous, talking to someone through the intercom. SHELLY I know he's gone. Please. I have to talk to you. Fiddling with her keys, Corky recognizes the voice that answers him. VIOLET (V.O.) What do you want, Shelly? Shelly glances over his shoulder at Corky, answering in a hushed voice. SHELLY I have to leave. Tonight. For a moment the intercom is silent. Then the door buzzes and Shelly pushes inside. Corky follows him to the elevator. INT. ELEVATOR - DAY Corky glares at Shelly and begins pumping the trigger of her circular saw. Shelly hides behind his sunglasses, watching the elevator numbers go up. The doors open and he scurries out. INT. HALL - DAY She watches him enter Caesar's apartment, her smile now completely gone. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - DAY It is later. Through the wall we listen to the same sound as before of two people making love. We drop down and find Corky's brush, still wet with paint, abandoned in her tray. INT. BEDROOM - DAY Her face glistening with sweat, Violet climaxes, letting the orgasm spread through her like melting butter. VIOLET I had this image of you, inside of me ... She flattens her palms against the soft cradle of her pelvis. VIOLET Like a part of me ... As she opens her eyes, we see that her lover is Corky. Violet watches as she gets off the bed and begins to get dressed. VIOLET You are so beautiful. Corky does not answer as she yanks her pants on. Violet sits up. She can feel that something is wrong. VIOLET What's wrong? CORKY Nothing. Violet pulls the sheet around her. VIOLET Yes there is. I felt it this morning when I brought you the coffee. CORKY Shit, here we go. VIOLET You didn't want to see me, did you? CORKY If there is one thing I can't stand about sleeping with women, it's all the fucking mind reading. VIOLET What are you afraid of? CORKY I'm not afraid of anything. VIOLET I don't understand - ? CORKY I know! You can't understand, because we're different, Violet. We're different. VIOLET We're not that different, Corky. CORKY How can you sit in that bed and say that? VIOLET Because it's the truth. CORKY Let me guess. This is where you tell me that what matters is on the inside. That inside you, there is a little dyke just like me? VIOLET Oh no, she's nothing like you. She's a lot smarter than you. CORKY Is that what her daddy tells her? VIOLET I know what I am. I don't need to have it tattooed on my shoulder. CORKY What are you saying? That you don't have sex with men? VIOLET I don't. CORKY For Christ's sake, Violet! I heard you! Thin walls, remember? VIOLET What you heard wasn't sex. CORKY What the fuck was it? VIOLET All my life, everyone has been telling me that when I have sex, I'm not really having sex. Not real sex. But they're wrong. I know what is and isn't sex and what you heard was definitely not sex. CORKY What was it then? VIOLET Work. That knocks Corky back. VIOLET You made certain choices in your life that you paid for. You said you made them because you were good at something and it was easy. Do you think you're the only one that's good at something? Violet stare pins Corky to the wall. VIOLET We make our own choices and we pay our own prices. I think we're more alike than you want to admit. CORKY What about that guy this morning? VIOLET You mean Shelly? CORKY Don't tell me, you're a workaholic. VIOLET No. Shelly knows what I am. He saw me in a bar with another woman. CORKY I suppose he just wants to watch. That's all Violet can take. VIOLET Fuck it! I think you better leave. CORKY I think so, too. Violet turns away. VIOLET Try not to steal anything on the way out. That stings but Corky walks out without looking back. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - NIGHT It is dark now. Corky is standing above the paint tray that has skinned over. She picks up the brush. It is dry with paint. CORKY Shit. She throws the brush across the room. EXT. CAESAR'S APARTMENT BUILDING - DAY A green-and-white street sign juts in the foreground of Caesar's upscale apartment building. The sign reads: "FRANKLIN STREET." EXT. PARKING LOT - DAY The rusty Chevy glides to a stop in a parking space near the service entrance. In its payload is a boxed bathroom vanity and sink. Corky climbs out of the cab and into the back, unhooking the bungee cords that hold down the boxes. She looks up as a black Lincoln Town Car screeches into a spot not far from her truck. THREE SERIOUS-LOOKING MEN get out, leading a fourth, Shelly. He is the only one who seems to notice Corky. They enter the building, the door closing behind them. INT. BATHROOM - DAY Corky's legs jut out from the old wicker vanity as she finishes detaching its anchors and pipe work. She stands, giving it a yank and pulling it away from the wall, when voices begin to filter in from the next-door apartment. She listens - a rising string of warbling sobs drowned out by an angry voice. ANGRY VOICE Shut the fuck up! You piece of shit! We hear a scream. ANGRY VOICE You're going to tell us! You're going to fuckin' tell us! just a matter of fuckin' time! Each sentence is punctuated with grunts and thuds. ANGRY VOICE Where is it? Where the fuck is it?! We begin to close in on Corky as she listens to each thud, watching something that disturbs her. ANGRY VOICE You shit! You piece of shit! With each thud the water in the toilet shimmers like a struck cymbal. As we move closer, the sound swells until -- MATCH CUT TO: INT. CAESAR'S BATHROOM DAY Where blood splatters the toilet, heavy drops hitting the water and spreading like inverted mushroom clouds. ANGRY VOICE Did that hurt? News flash, fucko: I'm just getting started. The angry voice belongs to JOHNNIE MARZZONE. Shelly is kneeling in front of the toilet, hands tied behind his back with electrical wire. Johnnie Marzzone is a flashy young man in Armani slacks, silk shirt and silver-tipped cowboy boots. His tie is tucked in, as if torture were a fine-dining experience. Caesar and two other men are crammed in the small bathroom. JOHNNIE You got nerve trying to fuck us! Nobody fucks me! Nobody fucks my father! Nobody! Nobody! Shelly screams as Jobnnie repeatedly rams his face into the toilet. CAESAR Whoa, whoa. Come on, he's making too much noise.

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Bound Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS BOUND Written by Larry & Andy Wachowski FADE IN: Inside a closet. It is a large closet with double doors, a crisp line of light cutting down through the center of the darkness. As we begin to descend, voices echo in our head. VIOLET (V.O.) I had this image of you, inside of me, like a part of me. We move past a shelf filled with hatboxes and handbags. It is a woman's closet. CORKY (V.O.) You planned this whole thing, didn't you? CAESAR (V.O.) Where's the fucking money? We glide over the tightly packed hangers, close enough to feel the different fabrics and descend past the dresses to the racks of high heels. VIOLET (V.O.) We make our own choices, we pay our own prices. CAESAR (V.O.) All part of the business. VIOLET (V.O.) All part of the business. CORKY (V.O.) What choice? We slide along the delicate taper of a stiletto heel and reach the bottom of the closet, where we find a pair of black Dr. Martens boots that are tied together with a white rope. VIOLET (V.O.) I want out. We move up the boots and we see it is a woman who is bound, lying motionless on the floor of the closet, the rope coiling tightly around her wrists. The crack at the bottom of the door lights her face. She is gagged and unconscious, a trickle of blood running down her forehead. Her name is CORKY. VIOLET (V.O.) Like a part of me. CUT TO: INT. ELEVATOR - DAY Leaning against the back of the elevator is Corky, a very butch-looking woman with short hair and a black leather jacket. She is a lesbian and wants people to know it. As the doors begin to slide shut, a woman yells. WOMAN Wait! Hold the elevator. Corky pushes the "open" button. A couple steps into the elevator. His name is CAESAR, a middle-aged Italian, wearing an expensive suit and sunglasses. She is VIOLET; a piece of sexual candy that would melt in your mouth. She hears it again, a guttural sound. CORKY Thanks again for this opportunity, Mr. Bianchinni. Goodbye. She hangs up the phone and walks toward the wall. As she gets closer, we hear a bed rocking, tapping against the wall. The man's breathing grows more and more labored until finally it swells -- DISSOLVING INTO: INT. BATHROOM - MORNING The whining motor of a high-powered drain-rod. The spiral cable whips wildly, spiraling deeper into the tub drain, black goo splattering everywhere. The machine is so loud Corky almost cannot hear someone pounding on the apartment door. Killing the motor, she stands and goes to the door. Behind the door is Violet, wearing jeans, a white T-shirt and cowboy boots. VIOLET Hi. My name is Violet. We sort of met in the elevator -- CORKY Yeah, sure. I'm Corky. VIOLET I heard you working in here and I just wondered if you'd like a cup of coffee? She is holding two cups of coffee: one black, one with cream. CORKY Sure. Come on in. Give me a minute. Violet steps inside as Corky goes back to the bathroom to wash off the drain dreck. VIOLET What happened to Rajeev? Corky calls from the bathroom, scrubbing her hands vigorously. CORKY Who? VIOLET Rajeev, the man who usually works on the building. CORKY Oh, he went home to India, but as far as I know he'll be back. She wipes her hands on her overalls, returning to the main room. VIOLET So this is temporary for you? CORKY Pretty much. One day at a time. Violet hands her the cup of black coffee. VIOLET I guessed you were straight black. CORKY Good guess. They both sip from the piping hot mugs. CORKY Mmmm ... thanks, I needed this. VIOLET My pleasure ... but to be honest, I did have a slightly ulterior motive here. I was wondering if I could ask a small favor? CORKY A favor? VIOLET Yeah, see, I'm kind of a night person, so I was wondering if it wasn't a terrible inconvenience if you could wait a bit before using power tools. CORKY Oh, I'm sorry -- VIOLET No, it isn't your fault. The walls here are just so thin. CORKY Are they really? VIOLET Yes, it really causes problems. Sometimes it's like you're in the same room. But if it's too much trouble, I understand ... CORKY No, no trouble. There's other work to do. VIOLET You're doing everything yourself? CORKY Yeah. VIOLET That is so amazing. I'm in awe of people who can fix things. My dad was like that. We never had anything new. Whenever something broke he would open it up, tinker with it and it would work. His hands were magic. She looks at Corky's hands cupped around the mug. VIOLET Yeah ... I bet your car is twenty years old. Corky smiles. CORKY Truck. VIOLET Truck. Of course. CORKY '63 Chevy. VIOLET I knew it. VIOLET SIPS VIOLET So, how do you know the owner, Mr. Bianchinni? CORKY I don't, really. I was referred to him. VIOLET Oh, really. Corky suddenly feels she has revealed something. CORKY Do you know him? VIOLET No, but Caesar does. He likes him. Says he's a good Italian. CORKY Caesar is your husband? VIOLET Oh no, no. I'm not the marrying kind. Smiling, she says nothing else. VIOLET I should be going. You can drop the cup off anytime. CORKY Thanks. VIOLET My pleasure. CORKY watches her leave. EXT. THE WATERING HOLE - NIGHT A dirty bar hidden away on a dark street, its cracked, moon- white sign the only evidence it exists. Corky's truck swings into a space in front of a couple of large motorcycles. She flips her collar and heads for the door. INT. THE WATERING HOLE - NIGHT The smell of leather and cigarette smoke fills Corky's nose as she crosses to the bar. BARTENDER Well, well ... Corky sits as the fat bartender waddles over. BARTENDER Been awhile, Cork. CORKY Five years, two months, sixteen days. How you doing, Sue? Corky puts a cigarette in her mouth and lights it. SUE Like shit. Now that we're all caught up, how about a drink? Sue opens the refrigerator and pulls out two Old Styles. CORKY Thanks. They click the bottles together and drink. SUE You got a job yet? CORKY Yeah. Some plumbing, painting and shit. Sue laughs. SUE I mean a J-O-B. A real job. CORKY Not for me, Sue. I'm straight and narrow. I'm just here to get laid or drunk and hopefully both. Corky gets off the stool. CORKY Thanks for the beer. Looking around, she sees a woman alone at one of the back tables. Through the smoky din, she bears a slight resemblance to Violet. The woman is dressed all in black, including a leather jacket. Smiling, Corky slides into the chair beside her. There is no one smoother. CORKY Hi. WOMAN Hello. CORKY You know ... that outfit would look great on my bedroom floor. The woman smiles just as someone taps Corky on the shoulder. She turns and is face-to-face with a large bull of a woman in a heavy leather Chicago Police jacket. She is more wide than fat. WOMAN COP Hey, Jesse. What's happening here? CORKY Nothing ... yet. WOMAN COP Who's this? Her coat opens as she puts her hands on her hips. A service revolver is clipped to her belt. She squints at Corky, her head nodding in recognition. WOMAN COP Wait, I know you. CORKY I don't think so. WOMAN COP I didn't know you were out. Corky smiles at the woman in black. CORKY When you get tired of Cagney and Lacey, come find me. She heads for the exit. EXT. CITY STREET - NIGHT The neighborhood would be politely described as "rough." Corky's truck does not stand out parked alone on the littered street. INT. CORKY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT It is a hole but it is home. Corky is lying on her futon staring up at the ceiling, a beer resting on her stomach; a folk singer quietly croons from the radio. We see the ceiling, a circle of light hovering over the small desk lamp. We move in on the spot, which slowly fills up the screen until there is nothing but the white light. Suddenly a wet paint roller loaded with white paint cuts a swath across the ceiling. MATCH CUT TO: INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - DAY Corky is painting the ceiling. The folk ballad has become an angry Riot Grrrl anthem. She is working hard, the roller sucking back and forth. Sweat covers her face. Dropping the roller down, she reloads it in the tray when the phone rings. She stops and answers it. CORKY Hello? Oh, hi, Mr. Bianchinni ... yes, everything is going fine. I got the tub drain all cleaned out. She listens for a moment. CORKY What apartment? She glances at the main wall. CORKY All right, all right, I guess I could take a look. Yeah, you're welcome, goodbye. She hangs up and looks again at the wall, feeling... curious. INT. HALL - NIGHT Corky knocks and after a moment Violet opens the door. She seems surprised. VIOLET Oh no. Shit. I didn't know he would call you. God, you must think |I'm a total nuisance. CORKY Not exactly. VIOLET I'm sorry, I usually would call Rajeev, but I didn't know what to do so I called Mr. Bianchinni. CORKY He said you lost something. VIOLET Yeah, come on in. She steps back and Corky walks inside. INT. CAESAR'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Violet leads her through the apartment. It is expensively furnished with very masculine tastes; a lot of gray and black leather. VIOLET I was doing some dishes and just as I pulled the stopper my earring fell in. Corky looks at her blankly. VIOLET It's one of my favorites. That's why I got upset. I know it probably seems ridiculous to you. An eyebrow goes up. VIOLET I'm sorry, look, forget it. I shouldn't have called... CORKY I told Bianchinni I would take a look. Is it that sink? Violet nods. She opens the sink cabinet and pulls out a pair of channel locks from her back pocket. The teeth of the channel locks open and bite onto the pressure nut. CORKY Do you have a pot or a bucket? VIOLET Sure. She hands one down to her. Corky slides it under the curved pipe. As she works, Corky feels herself staring at Violet, at the hem of her dress curving tightly around her thighs. Water begins to trickle into the pan. The nut slides loose and Corky tips the trap. Water splashes into the pan with a soft metal "tink." VIOLET Did you find it? Corky fishes into gray water and pulls out the earring. Violet screams, a huge smile on her face, half-falling as she tries to hug Corky. VIOLET I can't believe it! You did it! Corky leans back under and replaces the trap. VIOLET Thank you so much. You have to let me pay you something -- CORKY No. Mr. Bianchinni asked me to do it. I did it. Corky checks the drain by running the water. VIOLET If you won't take money, how about a drink? It's getting late. You can't work all night. Corky eyes her for a moment. CORKY Okay, one drink. VIOLET What do you want? CORKY A beer? VIOLET A beer. Of course. She smiles and turns to the bar. VIOLET Sit down. Corky sits on the black leather couch and Violet returns with two bottles of Heineken. Corky sneers. VIOLET Thanks again. They clink the bottles and swig. VIOLET You seem uncomfortable. Do I make you nervous, Corky? CORKY No. She looks at Violet, then takes another long pull on the bottle. VIOLET Thirsty, maybe. Violet smiles, her eyes again talking for her. CORKY Curious, maybe. VIOLET Curious? That's funny, I'm feeling a bit curious myself right now. Violet notices the tattoo on Corky's arm. VIOLET That's a great tattoo. She reaches over and touches it. VIOLET Beautiful labrys. Corky is a bit suprised that she knows what it is. She nods, rubbing it as if trying to hide it. VIOLET Are you surprised that I know what it is? CORKY Maybe. VIOLET I have a tattoo, would you like to see it? She moves closer, sliding over the leather cushions as she opens the front of her dress. VIOLET A woman in upstate New York did it for me. She is not wearing a bra. VIOLET Here. Do you like it? Set against the soft white skin of her breast is a bright green-stemmed violet. VIOLET It took her all day to do it. She promised me it wouldn't hurt, but it was sore for a long time after. I couldn't even touch it. Corky looks up from Violet's breast to her dark eyes. VIOLET But now I love the way it feels. She runs her fingers softly over the slightly scarred skin. VIOLET Here, touch it. Corky feels the blood pounding in her ears as Violet takes her hand and places it on her breast. CORKY What are you doing? Violet looks at her. VIOLET Isn't it obvious? I'm trying to seduce you. CORKY Why? VIOLET Because I want to. I've wanted to since I first saw you in the elevator. Corky watches her, trying to figure her out even as her thumb presses into Violet's nipple. Inhaling sharply, Violet closes her eyes; she can feel Corky staring at her. VIOLET You don't believe me. But I can prove it to you. She takes Corky's wrist and begins pulling her hand down her body. VIOLET You can't believe me because of what you see ... She forces Corky's hand between her legs, up under her dress. VIOLET But you can believe what you feel. Violet opens her eyes, a wanton smile on her lips. VIOLET You see ... I've been thinking about you all day. Corky's forearm flexes and Violet moans. With both hands, Violet takes hold of Corky's forearm. CORKY You planned this whole thing? Violet's head swims; she is unable to breathe. CORKY You dropped that earring down the drain on purpose, didn't you? VIOLET If I say yes, will you take your hand away? CORKY No. VIOLET ... yes. Now it is Corky who smiles. Violet shivers, her thighs rubbing, her hips thrusting against Corky's hand. VIOLET Please, Corky ... please ... Her eyes barely open. VIOLET ... kiss me. In a single motion, Corky takes hold of the back of her neck and covers Violet's open mouth with her own. With her hand still stuffed between Violet's legs, Corky lays her back onto the couch as the kiss becomes more -- More desperate, more hungry until -- We hear the front door unlock and open. CAESAR Violet? Violet's eyes pop open and she pushes Corky back. CAESAR Violet, you home? They scramble to compose themselves. VIOLET Yeah. In here, C. He comes around the corner and in the dim light sees the two figures sitting close on the couch. CAESAR What's this? He mistakes Corky for a man. CAESAR What the fuck is this? Violet stands as Caesar barrels toward the couch. VIOLET I didn't expect -- CAESAR What the fuck is going on? Corky stands and turns, Caesar suddenly realizing that she is a woman. CAESAR Oh, shit ... VIOLET Caesar, this is Corky. Corky, Caesar. CAESAR I'm sorry, Christ, I thought ... it's fucking dark in here. He reaches to the wall for the lights. VIOLET She is working for Bianchinni. Caesar extends his hand. CAESAR Oh, right, right. Don mentioned that to me. Hi, welcome to the family. Corky shakes his hand. CAESAR You're helping Rajeev? CORKY No. Rajeev's in India. VIOLET She's doing the work herself. CAESAR No shit. Bianchinni hired you? You know he's a good friend of mine. |Family, really. CORKY That's what Violet said. He looks at her as if he knows something. CAESAR So, you just got out? VIOLET Jesus, Caesar! CAESAR What? It ain't no big fuckin' deal. I know who Don hires. Did you know he did time himself? Corky shakes her head. CAESAR Thirteen fucking years. See, there ain't no secrets here. Corky doesn't like this man. CAESAR How many'd you do? CORKY Five. He whistles. CAESAR Not bad. What for? VIOLET That's none of your goddamn business, Caesar. CAESAR You're right. You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to. I just hope you understand you're among good people here. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a thick fold of money and peels several hundreds. Corky stares at it. CAESAR Come on, come on. if you understand what I'm talking about you're going to take the money. if you don't, I'm going to have to worry about you. Corky takes it. Caesar smiles. CAESAR Good. I hate to worry. I got ulcers. CORKY I should be going. CAESAR What? How about a drink? CORKY My brushes, I have to clean my brushes. Thanks, though. CAESAR Another time. CORKY Sure. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - NIGHT Close on the paintbrush, Corky's fingers pushing through and separating the black bristles under the running water. When the brush is clean, she flicks it dry and resets the edge. She goes to the sink to wash her hands when she stops, noticing her left hand. It is the hand that was between Violet's legs. She is about to smell her finger when she sees herself in the mirror. CORKY What are you doing? She drops her hand. CORKY What am I doing? I'm fucking up, that's what I'm doing. She scrubs her hands clean. EXT. PARKING LOT - NIGHT It is late, the area burnished with amber street light. Corky walks from the building to her truck. She climbs inside and slides the key into the ignition, when suddenly the passenger door opens and -- Violet gets in. Stunned, Corky stares at her. VIOLET I had to see you. CORKY Look, I don't think this is a good idea. VIOLET I wanted to apologize. CORKY Don't apologize, please. I can't stand women who apologize for wanting sex. Violet smiles. VIOLET I'm not apologizing for what I did -- She slides across the seat. VIOLET I'm apologizing for what I didn't do. She kisses Corky, and if Corky is trying to resist, we can't tell. The windshield is beginning to steam when Violet, panting, breaks the kiss. VIOLET Do you have a bed somewhere? Unable to speak, Corky reaches over and starts the engine. INT. CORKY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT The sex. There is nothing flower-scented or out-of-focus about it. It is sweaty, slippery, body-grinding, bed-squeaking lesbian sex -- Pungent and potent -- And when it is over, neither woman can move. Finally, Corky's eyes flutter open. CORKY I can see again. Violet smiles. Slowly, Corky gets up and goes to the fridge. She grabs a beer and presses it to her sweating forebead. After a moment, she lowers it, gently pressing the cold can elsewhere. Eyes closed, she lets out a long "Ahh." Violet hears the sizzle-pop of the beer as Corky returns to the bed. She holds the beer to Violet's lips and tilts the can, watching Violet's throat as she drinks. Violet's eyes open. VIOLET ... I needed that. CORKY Tell me about it. Corky hands her the beer as Violet sits up a bit. CORKY Caesar's Mafia, isn't he? VIOLET You have to ask? CORKY No. VIOLET Funny, nobody calls it that anymore. Caesar calls it "The |Business." CORKY How did you meet him? VIOLET They took over a club I was working at. Caesar started managing it. CORKY He's a launderer? VIOLET Basically. CORKY How long have you been with him? VIOLET Almost five years. CORKY Five years is a long time. VIOLET Yes, it is. Corky stares at her beer. She knows what Violet is thinking. CORKY The redistribution of wealth. VIOLET What? CORKY Isn't that what you wanted to know? What I did time for? VIOLET The redistribution of wealth? CORKY That's what I tell someone when I'm trying to get them in my bed. VIOLET I'm already in your bed. CORKY My cellmate would say she did her time for getting caught. She was always more honest than me. Corky sips her beer. CORKY I started stealing when I was little. We were piss-poor, which is not an excuse, just a fact. It isn't like her to talk about this, especially with someone she just met. CORKY The first time I remember so vividly. A bunch of us kids were at Waxman's Drugstore, when Mr. Waxman, who was a mean old prick, always worrying about us robbing him, dropped a roll of quarters. We can almost hear the coins tinkling on the tile floor. CORKY I can still hear that sound, those quarters, because right then something clicked inside of me. Some instinct took over and as everyone, including Waxman, dove down, I reached up and emptied the cash register. Violet smiles. She likes this woman. CORKY I gave most of the money to my mom. I told her I found it at the trainyard. She was so happy she cried, calling me her lucky charm. Fifteen years later, I guess my luck ran out. Sbe swallows that with beer. CORKY Sometimes I tell myself that I didn't have a choice, that stealing was surviving. Usually I can admit that's bullshit. I did it because it was a way out. It was easy and I was good at it, real good. She glances at Violet. CORKY I don't usually talk this much. I guess I have been rehabilitated. Violet laughs. VIOLET You didn't have to tell me if you didn't want to. CORKY I guess I wanted to. VIOLET I'm glad you did. CORKY So am I. EXT. PARKING LOT DAY Corky gets out of her truck carrying her tools. Grinning like someone who has been well-laid, she whistles off to work. EXT. LOBBY - DAY Between the main doors she sees a man. His name is SHELLY and he is an overdressed accountant. He is very nervous, talking to someone through the intercom. SHELLY I know he's gone. Please. I have to talk to you. Fiddling with her keys, Corky recognizes the voice that answers him. VIOLET (V.O.) What do you want, Shelly? Shelly glances over his shoulder at Corky, answering in a hushed voice. SHELLY I have to leave. Tonight. For a moment the intercom is silent. Then the door buzzes and Shelly pushes inside. Corky follows him to the elevator. INT. ELEVATOR - DAY Corky glares at Shelly and begins pumping the trigger of her circular saw. Shelly hides behind his sunglasses, watching the elevator numbers go up. The doors open and he scurries out. INT. HALL - DAY She watches him enter Caesar's apartment, her smile now completely gone. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - DAY It is later. Through the wall we listen to the same sound as before of two people making love. We drop down and find Corky's brush, still wet with paint, abandoned in her tray. INT. BEDROOM - DAY Her face glistening with sweat, Violet climaxes, letting the orgasm spread through her like melting butter. VIOLET I had this image of you, inside of me ... She flattens her palms against the soft cradle of her pelvis. VIOLET Like a part of me ... As she opens her eyes, we see that her lover is Corky. Violet watches as she gets off the bed and begins to get dressed. VIOLET You are so beautiful. Corky does not answer as she yanks her pants on. Violet sits up. She can feel that something is wrong. VIOLET What's wrong? CORKY Nothing. Violet pulls the sheet around her. VIOLET Yes there is. I felt it this morning when I brought you the coffee. CORKY Shit, here we go. VIOLET You didn't want to see me, did you? CORKY If there is one thing I can't stand about sleeping with women, it's all the fucking mind reading. VIOLET What are you afraid of? CORKY I'm not afraid of anything. VIOLET I don't understand - ? CORKY I know! You can't understand, because we're different, Violet. We're different. VIOLET We're not that different, Corky. CORKY How can you sit in that bed and say that? VIOLET Because it's the truth. CORKY Let me guess. This is where you tell me that what matters is on the inside. That inside you, there is a little dyke just like me? VIOLET Oh no, she's nothing like you. She's a lot smarter than you. CORKY Is that what her daddy tells her? VIOLET I know what I am. I don't need to have it tattooed on my shoulder. CORKY What are you saying? That you don't have sex with men? VIOLET I don't. CORKY For Christ's sake, Violet! I heard you! Thin walls, remember? VIOLET What you heard wasn't sex. CORKY What the fuck was it? VIOLET All my life, everyone has been telling me that when I have sex, I'm not really having sex. Not real sex. But they're wrong. I know what is and isn't sex and what you heard was definitely not sex. CORKY What was it then? VIOLET Work. That knocks Corky back. VIOLET You made certain choices in your life that you paid for. You said you made them because you were good at something and it was easy. Do you think you're the only one that's good at something? Violet stare pins Corky to the wall. VIOLET We make our own choices and we pay our own prices. I think we're more alike than you want to admit. CORKY What about that guy this morning? VIOLET You mean Shelly? CORKY Don't tell me, you're a workaholic. VIOLET No. Shelly knows what I am. He saw me in a bar with another woman. CORKY I suppose he just wants to watch. That's all Violet can take. VIOLET Fuck it! I think you better leave. CORKY I think so, too. Violet turns away. VIOLET Try not to steal anything on the way out. That stings but Corky walks out without looking back. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - NIGHT It is dark now. Corky is standing above the paint tray that has skinned over. She picks up the brush. It is dry with paint. CORKY Shit. She throws the brush across the room. EXT. CAESAR'S APARTMENT BUILDING - DAY A green-and-white street sign juts in the foreground of Caesar's upscale apartment building. The sign reads: "FRANKLIN STREET." EXT. PARKING LOT - DAY The rusty Chevy glides to a stop in a parking space near the service entrance. In its payload is a boxed bathroom vanity and sink. Corky climbs out of the cab and into the back, unhooking the bungee cords that hold down the boxes. She looks up as a black Lincoln Town Car screeches into a spot not far from her truck. THREE SERIOUS-LOOKING MEN get out, leading a fourth, Shelly. He is the only one who seems to notice Corky. They enter the building, the door closing behind them. INT. BATHROOM - DAY Corky's legs jut out from the old wicker vanity as she finishes detaching its anchors and pipe work. She stands, giving it a yank and pulling it away from the wall, when voices begin to filter in from the next-door apartment. She listens - a rising string of warbling sobs drowned out by an angry voice. ANGRY VOICE Shut the fuck up! You piece of shit! We hear a scream. ANGRY VOICE You're going to tell us! You're going to fuckin' tell us! just a matter of fuckin' time! Each sentence is punctuated with grunts and thuds. ANGRY VOICE Where is it? Where the fuck is it?! We begin to close in on Corky as she listens to each thud, watching something that disturbs her. ANGRY VOICE You shit! You piece of shit! With each thud the water in the toilet shimmers like a struck cymbal. As we move closer, the sound swells until -- MATCH CUT TO: INT. CAESAR'S BATHROOM DAY Where blood splatters the toilet, heavy drops hitting the water and spreading like inverted mushroom clouds. ANGRY VOICE Did that hurt? News flash, fucko: I'm just getting started. The angry voice belongs to JOHNNIE MARZZONE. Shelly is kneeling in front of the toilet, hands tied behind his back with electrical wire. Johnnie Marzzone is a flashy young man in Armani slacks, silk shirt and silver-tipped cowboy boots. His tie is tucked in, as if torture were a fine-dining experience. Caesar and two other men are crammed in the small bathroom. JOHNNIE You got nerve trying to fuck us! Nobody fucks me! Nobody fucks my father! Nobody! Nobody! Shelly screams as Jobnnie repeatedly rams his face into the toilet. CAESAR Whoa, whoa. Come on, he's making too much noise.

cleaned

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Bound Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS BOUND Written by Larry & Andy Wachowski FADE IN: Inside a closet. It is a large closet with double doors, a crisp line of light cutting down through the center of the darkness. As we begin to descend, voices echo in our head. VIOLET (V.O.) I had this image of you, inside of me, like a part of me. We move past a shelf filled with hatboxes and handbags. It is a woman's closet. CORKY (V.O.) You planned this whole thing, didn't you? CAESAR (V.O.) Where's the fucking money? We glide over the tightly packed hangers, close enough to feel the different fabrics and descend past the dresses to the racks of high heels. VIOLET (V.O.) We make our own choices, we pay our own prices. CAESAR (V.O.) All part of the business. VIOLET (V.O.) All part of the business. CORKY (V.O.) What choice? We slide along the delicate taper of a stiletto heel and reach the bottom of the closet, where we find a pair of black Dr. Martens boots that are tied together with a white rope. VIOLET (V.O.) I want out. We move up the boots and we see it is a woman who is bound, lying motionless on the floor of the closet, the rope coiling tightly around her wrists. The crack at the bottom of the door lights her face. She is gagged and unconscious, a trickle of blood running down her forehead. Her name is CORKY. VIOLET (V.O.) Like a part of me. CUT TO: INT. ELEVATOR - DAY Leaning against the back of the elevator is Corky, a very butch-looking woman with short hair and a black leather jacket. She is a lesbian and wants people to know it. As the doors begin to slide shut, a woman yells. WOMAN Wait! Hold the elevator. Corky pushes the "open" button. A couple steps into the elevator. His name is CAESAR, a middle-aged Italian, wearing an expensive suit and sunglasses. She is VIOLET; a piece of sexual candy that would melt in your mouth. She hears it again, a guttural sound. CORKY Thanks again for this opportunity, Mr. Bianchinni. Goodbye. She hangs up the phone and walks toward the wall. As she gets closer, we hear a bed rocking, tapping against the wall. The man's breathing grows more and more labored until finally it swells -- DISSOLVING INTO: INT. BATHROOM - MORNING The whining motor of a high-powered drain-rod. The spiral cable whips wildly, spiraling deeper into the tub drain, black goo splattering everywhere. The machine is so loud Corky almost cannot hear someone pounding on the apartment door. Killing the motor, she stands and goes to the door. Behind the door is Violet, wearing jeans, a white T-shirt and cowboy boots. VIOLET Hi. My name is Violet. We sort of met in the elevator -- CORKY Yeah, sure. I'm Corky. VIOLET I heard you working in here and I just wondered if you'd like a cup of coffee? She is holding two cups of coffee: one black, one with cream. CORKY Sure. Come on in. Give me a minute. Violet steps inside as Corky goes back to the bathroom to wash off the drain dreck. VIOLET What happened to Rajeev? Corky calls from the bathroom, scrubbing her hands vigorously. CORKY Who? VIOLET Rajeev, the man who usually works on the building. CORKY Oh, he went home to India, but as far as I know he'll be back. She wipes her hands on her overalls, returning to the main room. VIOLET So this is temporary for you? CORKY Pretty much. One day at a time. Violet hands her the cup of black coffee. VIOLET I guessed you were straight black. CORKY Good guess. They both sip from the piping hot mugs. CORKY Mmmm ... thanks, I needed this. VIOLET My pleasure ... but to be honest, I did have a slightly ulterior motive here. I was wondering if I could ask a small favor? CORKY A favor? VIOLET Yeah, see, I'm kind of a night person, so I was wondering if it wasn't a terrible inconvenience if you could wait a bit before using power tools. CORKY Oh, I'm sorry -- VIOLET No, it isn't your fault. The walls here are just so thin. CORKY Are they really? VIOLET Yes, it really causes problems. Sometimes it's like you're in the same room. But if it's too much trouble, I understand ... CORKY No, no trouble. There's other work to do. VIOLET You're doing everything yourself? CORKY Yeah. VIOLET That is so amazing. I'm in awe of people who can fix things. My dad was like that. We never had anything new. Whenever something broke he would open it up, tinker with it and it would work. His hands were magic. She looks at Corky's hands cupped around the mug. VIOLET Yeah ... I bet your car is twenty years old. Corky smiles. CORKY Truck. VIOLET Truck. Of course. CORKY '63 Chevy. VIOLET I knew it. VIOLET SIPS VIOLET So, how do you know the owner, Mr. Bianchinni? CORKY I don't, really. I was referred to him. VIOLET Oh, really. Corky suddenly feels she has revealed something. CORKY Do you know him? VIOLET No, but Caesar does. He likes him. Says he's a good Italian. CORKY Caesar is your husband? VIOLET Oh no, no. I'm not the marrying kind. Smiling, she says nothing else. VIOLET I should be going. You can drop the cup off anytime. CORKY Thanks. VIOLET My pleasure. CORKY watches her leave. EXT. THE WATERING HOLE - NIGHT A dirty bar hidden away on a dark street, its cracked, moon- white sign the only evidence it exists. Corky's truck swings into a space in front of a couple of large motorcycles. She flips her collar and heads for the door. INT. THE WATERING HOLE - NIGHT The smell of leather and cigarette smoke fills Corky's nose as she crosses to the bar. BARTENDER Well, well ... Corky sits as the fat bartender waddles over. BARTENDER Been awhile, Cork. CORKY Five years, two months, sixteen days. How you doing, Sue? Corky puts a cigarette in her mouth and lights it. SUE Like shit. Now that we're all caught up, how about a drink? Sue opens the refrigerator and pulls out two Old Styles. CORKY Thanks. They click the bottles together and drink. SUE You got a job yet? CORKY Yeah. Some plumbing, painting and shit. Sue laughs. SUE I mean a J-O-B. A real job. CORKY Not for me, Sue. I'm straight and narrow. I'm just here to get laid or drunk and hopefully both. Corky gets off the stool. CORKY Thanks for the beer. Looking around, she sees a woman alone at one of the back tables. Through the smoky din, she bears a slight resemblance to Violet. The woman is dressed all in black, including a leather jacket. Smiling, Corky slides into the chair beside her. There is no one smoother. CORKY Hi. WOMAN Hello. CORKY You know ... that outfit would look great on my bedroom floor. The woman smiles just as someone taps Corky on the shoulder. She turns and is face-to-face with a large bull of a woman in a heavy leather Chicago Police jacket. She is more wide than fat. WOMAN COP Hey, Jesse. What's happening here? CORKY Nothing ... yet. WOMAN COP Who's this? Her coat opens as she puts her hands on her hips. A service revolver is clipped to her belt. She squints at Corky, her head nodding in recognition. WOMAN COP Wait, I know you. CORKY I don't think so. WOMAN COP I didn't know you were out. Corky smiles at the woman in black. CORKY When you get tired of Cagney and Lacey, come find me. She heads for the exit. EXT. CITY STREET - NIGHT The neighborhood would be politely described as "rough." Corky's truck does not stand out parked alone on the littered street. INT. CORKY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT It is a hole but it is home. Corky is lying on her futon staring up at the ceiling, a beer resting on her stomach; a folk singer quietly croons from the radio. We see the ceiling, a circle of light hovering over the small desk lamp. We move in on the spot, which slowly fills up the screen until there is nothing but the white light. Suddenly a wet paint roller loaded with white paint cuts a swath across the ceiling. MATCH CUT TO: INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - DAY Corky is painting the ceiling. The folk ballad has become an angry Riot Grrrl anthem. She is working hard, the roller sucking back and forth. Sweat covers her face. Dropping the roller down, she reloads it in the tray when the phone rings. She stops and answers it. CORKY Hello? Oh, hi, Mr. Bianchinni ... yes, everything is going fine. I got the tub drain all cleaned out. She listens for a moment. CORKY What apartment? She glances at the main wall. CORKY All right, all right, I guess I could take a look. Yeah, you're welcome, goodbye. She hangs up and looks again at the wall, feeling... curious. INT. HALL - NIGHT Corky knocks and after a moment Violet opens the door. She seems surprised. VIOLET Oh no. Shit. I didn't know he would call you. God, you must think |I'm a total nuisance. CORKY Not exactly. VIOLET I'm sorry, I usually would call Rajeev, but I didn't know what to do so I called Mr. Bianchinni. CORKY He said you lost something. VIOLET Yeah, come on in. She steps back and Corky walks inside. INT. CAESAR'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Violet leads her through the apartment. It is expensively furnished with very masculine tastes; a lot of gray and black leather. VIOLET I was doing some dishes and just as I pulled the stopper my earring fell in. Corky looks at her blankly. VIOLET It's one of my favorites. That's why I got upset. I know it probably seems ridiculous to you. An eyebrow goes up. VIOLET I'm sorry, look, forget it. I shouldn't have called... CORKY I told Bianchinni I would take a look. Is it that sink? Violet nods. She opens the sink cabinet and pulls out a pair of channel locks from her back pocket. The teeth of the channel locks open and bite onto the pressure nut. CORKY Do you have a pot or a bucket? VIOLET Sure. She hands one down to her. Corky slides it under the curved pipe. As she works, Corky feels herself staring at Violet, at the hem of her dress curving tightly around her thighs. Water begins to trickle into the pan. The nut slides loose and Corky tips the trap. Water splashes into the pan with a soft metal "tink." VIOLET Did you find it? Corky fishes into gray water and pulls out the earring. Violet screams, a huge smile on her face, half-falling as she tries to hug Corky. VIOLET I can't believe it! You did it! Corky leans back under and replaces the trap. VIOLET Thank you so much. You have to let me pay you something -- CORKY No. Mr. Bianchinni asked me to do it. I did it. Corky checks the drain by running the water. VIOLET If you won't take money, how about a drink? It's getting late. You can't work all night. Corky eyes her for a moment. CORKY Okay, one drink. VIOLET What do you want? CORKY A beer? VIOLET A beer. Of course. She smiles and turns to the bar. VIOLET Sit down. Corky sits on the black leather couch and Violet returns with two bottles of Heineken. Corky sneers. VIOLET Thanks again. They clink the bottles and swig. VIOLET You seem uncomfortable. Do I make you nervous, Corky? CORKY No. She looks at Violet, then takes another long pull on the bottle. VIOLET Thirsty, maybe. Violet smiles, her eyes again talking for her. CORKY Curious, maybe. VIOLET Curious? That's funny, I'm feeling a bit curious myself right now. Violet notices the tattoo on Corky's arm. VIOLET That's a great tattoo. She reaches over and touches it. VIOLET Beautiful labrys. Corky is a bit suprised that she knows what it is. She nods, rubbing it as if trying to hide it. VIOLET Are you surprised that I know what it is? CORKY Maybe. VIOLET I have a tattoo, would you like to see it? She moves closer, sliding over the leather cushions as she opens the front of her dress. VIOLET A woman in upstate New York did it for me. She is not wearing a bra. VIOLET Here. Do you like it? Set against the soft white skin of her breast is a bright green-stemmed violet. VIOLET It took her all day to do it. She promised me it wouldn't hurt, but it was sore for a long time after. I couldn't even touch it. Corky looks up from Violet's breast to her dark eyes. VIOLET But now I love the way it feels. She runs her fingers softly over the slightly scarred skin. VIOLET Here, touch it. Corky feels the blood pounding in her ears as Violet takes her hand and places it on her breast. CORKY What are you doing? Violet looks at her. VIOLET Isn't it obvious? I'm trying to seduce you. CORKY Why? VIOLET Because I want to. I've wanted to since I first saw you in the elevator. Corky watches her, trying to figure her out even as her thumb presses into Violet's nipple. Inhaling sharply, Violet closes her eyes; she can feel Corky staring at her. VIOLET You don't believe me. But I can prove it to you. She takes Corky's wrist and begins pulling her hand down her body. VIOLET You can't believe me because of what you see ... She forces Corky's hand between her legs, up under her dress. VIOLET But you can believe what you feel. Violet opens her eyes, a wanton smile on her lips. VIOLET You see ... I've been thinking about you all day. Corky's forearm flexes and Violet moans. With both hands, Violet takes hold of Corky's forearm. CORKY You planned this whole thing? Violet's head swims; she is unable to breathe. CORKY You dropped that earring down the drain on purpose, didn't you? VIOLET If I say yes, will you take your hand away? CORKY No. VIOLET ... yes. Now it is Corky who smiles. Violet shivers, her thighs rubbing, her hips thrusting against Corky's hand. VIOLET Please, Corky ... please ... Her eyes barely open. VIOLET ... kiss me. In a single motion, Corky takes hold of the back of her neck and covers Violet's open mouth with her own. With her hand still stuffed between Violet's legs, Corky lays her back onto the couch as the kiss becomes more -- More desperate, more hungry until -- We hear the front door unlock and open. CAESAR Violet? Violet's eyes pop open and she pushes Corky back. CAESAR Violet, you home? They scramble to compose themselves. VIOLET Yeah. In here, C. He comes around the corner and in the dim light sees the two figures sitting close on the couch. CAESAR What's this? He mistakes Corky for a man. CAESAR What the fuck is this? Violet stands as Caesar barrels toward the couch. VIOLET I didn't expect -- CAESAR What the fuck is going on? Corky stands and turns, Caesar suddenly realizing that she is a woman. CAESAR Oh, shit ... VIOLET Caesar, this is Corky. Corky, Caesar. CAESAR I'm sorry, Christ, I thought ... it's fucking dark in here. He reaches to the wall for the lights. VIOLET She is working for Bianchinni. Caesar extends his hand. CAESAR Oh, right, right. Don mentioned that to me. Hi, welcome to the family. Corky shakes his hand. CAESAR You're helping Rajeev? CORKY No. Rajeev's in India. VIOLET She's doing the work herself. CAESAR No shit. Bianchinni hired you? You know he's a good friend of mine. |Family, really. CORKY That's what Violet said. He looks at her as if he knows something. CAESAR So, you just got out? VIOLET Jesus, Caesar! CAESAR What? It ain't no big fuckin' deal. I know who Don hires. Did you know he did time himself? Corky shakes her head. CAESAR Thirteen fucking years. See, there ain't no secrets here. Corky doesn't like this man. CAESAR How many'd you do? CORKY Five. He whistles. CAESAR Not bad. What for? VIOLET That's none of your goddamn business, Caesar. CAESAR You're right. You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to. I just hope you understand you're among good people here. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a thick fold of money and peels several hundreds. Corky stares at it. CAESAR Come on, come on. if you understand what I'm talking about you're going to take the money. if you don't, I'm going to have to worry about you. Corky takes it. Caesar smiles. CAESAR Good. I hate to worry. I got ulcers. CORKY I should be going. CAESAR What? How about a drink? CORKY My brushes, I have to clean my brushes. Thanks, though. CAESAR Another time. CORKY Sure. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - NIGHT Close on the paintbrush, Corky's fingers pushing through and separating the black bristles under the running water. When the brush is clean, she flicks it dry and resets the edge. She goes to the sink to wash her hands when she stops, noticing her left hand. It is the hand that was between Violet's legs. She is about to smell her finger when she sees herself in the mirror. CORKY What are you doing? She drops her hand. CORKY What am I doing? I'm fucking up, that's what I'm doing. She scrubs her hands clean. EXT. PARKING LOT - NIGHT It is late, the area burnished with amber street light. Corky walks from the building to her truck. She climbs inside and slides the key into the ignition, when suddenly the passenger door opens and -- Violet gets in. Stunned, Corky stares at her. VIOLET I had to see you. CORKY Look, I don't think this is a good idea. VIOLET I wanted to apologize. CORKY Don't apologize, please. I can't stand women who apologize for wanting sex. Violet smiles. VIOLET I'm not apologizing for what I did -- She slides across the seat. VIOLET I'm apologizing for what I didn't do. She kisses Corky, and if Corky is trying to resist, we can't tell. The windshield is beginning to steam when Violet, panting, breaks the kiss. VIOLET Do you have a bed somewhere? Unable to speak, Corky reaches over and starts the engine. INT. CORKY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT The sex. There is nothing flower-scented or out-of-focus about it. It is sweaty, slippery, body-grinding, bed-squeaking lesbian sex -- Pungent and potent -- And when it is over, neither woman can move. Finally, Corky's eyes flutter open. CORKY I can see again. Violet smiles. Slowly, Corky gets up and goes to the fridge. She grabs a beer and presses it to her sweating forebead. After a moment, she lowers it, gently pressing the cold can elsewhere. Eyes closed, she lets out a long "Ahh." Violet hears the sizzle-pop of the beer as Corky returns to the bed. She holds the beer to Violet's lips and tilts the can, watching Violet's throat as she drinks. Violet's eyes open. VIOLET ... I needed that. CORKY Tell me about it. Corky hands her the beer as Violet sits up a bit. CORKY Caesar's Mafia, isn't he? VIOLET You have to ask? CORKY No. VIOLET Funny, nobody calls it that anymore. Caesar calls it "The |Business." CORKY How did you meet him? VIOLET They took over a club I was working at. Caesar started managing it. CORKY He's a launderer? VIOLET Basically. CORKY How long have you been with him? VIOLET Almost five years. CORKY Five years is a long time. VIOLET Yes, it is. Corky stares at her beer. She knows what Violet is thinking. CORKY The redistribution of wealth. VIOLET What? CORKY Isn't that what you wanted to know? What I did time for? VIOLET The redistribution of wealth? CORKY That's what I tell someone when I'm trying to get them in my bed. VIOLET I'm already in your bed. CORKY My cellmate would say she did her time for getting caught. She was always more honest than me. Corky sips her beer. CORKY I started stealing when I was little. We were piss-poor, which is not an excuse, just a fact. It isn't like her to talk about this, especially with someone she just met. CORKY The first time I remember so vividly. A bunch of us kids were at Waxman's Drugstore, when Mr. Waxman, who was a mean old prick, always worrying about us robbing him, dropped a roll of quarters. We can almost hear the coins tinkling on the tile floor. CORKY I can still hear that sound, those quarters, because right then something clicked inside of me. Some instinct took over and as everyone, including Waxman, dove down, I reached up and emptied the cash register. Violet smiles. She likes this woman. CORKY I gave most of the money to my mom. I told her I found it at the trainyard. She was so happy she cried, calling me her lucky charm. Fifteen years later, I guess my luck ran out. Sbe swallows that with beer. CORKY Sometimes I tell myself that I didn't have a choice, that stealing was surviving. Usually I can admit that's bullshit. I did it because it was a way out. It was easy and I was good at it, real good. She glances at Violet. CORKY I don't usually talk this much. I guess I have been rehabilitated. Violet laughs. VIOLET You didn't have to tell me if you didn't want to. CORKY I guess I wanted to. VIOLET I'm glad you did. CORKY So am I. EXT. PARKING LOT DAY Corky gets out of her truck carrying her tools. Grinning like someone who has been well-laid, she whistles off to work. EXT. LOBBY - DAY Between the main doors she sees a man. His name is SHELLY and he is an overdressed accountant. He is very nervous, talking to someone through the intercom. SHELLY I know he's gone. Please. I have to talk to you. Fiddling with her keys, Corky recognizes the voice that answers him. VIOLET (V.O.) What do you want, Shelly? Shelly glances over his shoulder at Corky, answering in a hushed voice. SHELLY I have to leave. Tonight. For a moment the intercom is silent. Then the door buzzes and Shelly pushes inside. Corky follows him to the elevator. INT. ELEVATOR - DAY Corky glares at Shelly and begins pumping the trigger of her circular saw. Shelly hides behind his sunglasses, watching the elevator numbers go up. The doors open and he scurries out. INT. HALL - DAY She watches him enter Caesar's apartment, her smile now completely gone. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - DAY It is later. Through the wall we listen to the same sound as before of two people making love. We drop down and find Corky's brush, still wet with paint, abandoned in her tray. INT. BEDROOM - DAY Her face glistening with sweat, Violet climaxes, letting the orgasm spread through her like melting butter. VIOLET I had this image of you, inside of me ... She flattens her palms against the soft cradle of her pelvis. VIOLET Like a part of me ... As she opens her eyes, we see that her lover is Corky. Violet watches as she gets off the bed and begins to get dressed. VIOLET You are so beautiful. Corky does not answer as she yanks her pants on. Violet sits up. She can feel that something is wrong. VIOLET What's wrong? CORKY Nothing. Violet pulls the sheet around her. VIOLET Yes there is. I felt it this morning when I brought you the coffee. CORKY Shit, here we go. VIOLET You didn't want to see me, did you? CORKY If there is one thing I can't stand about sleeping with women, it's all the fucking mind reading. VIOLET What are you afraid of? CORKY I'm not afraid of anything. VIOLET I don't understand - ? CORKY I know! You can't understand, because we're different, Violet. We're different. VIOLET We're not that different, Corky. CORKY How can you sit in that bed and say that? VIOLET Because it's the truth. CORKY Let me guess. This is where you tell me that what matters is on the inside. That inside you, there is a little dyke just like me? VIOLET Oh no, she's nothing like you. She's a lot smarter than you. CORKY Is that what her daddy tells her? VIOLET I know what I am. I don't need to have it tattooed on my shoulder. CORKY What are you saying? That you don't have sex with men? VIOLET I don't. CORKY For Christ's sake, Violet! I heard you! Thin walls, remember? VIOLET What you heard wasn't sex. CORKY What the fuck was it? VIOLET All my life, everyone has been telling me that when I have sex, I'm not really having sex. Not real sex. But they're wrong. I know what is and isn't sex and what you heard was definitely not sex. CORKY What was it then? VIOLET Work. That knocks Corky back. VIOLET You made certain choices in your life that you paid for. You said you made them because you were good at something and it was easy. Do you think you're the only one that's good at something? Violet stare pins Corky to the wall. VIOLET We make our own choices and we pay our own prices. I think we're more alike than you want to admit. CORKY What about that guy this morning? VIOLET You mean Shelly? CORKY Don't tell me, you're a workaholic. VIOLET No. Shelly knows what I am. He saw me in a bar with another woman. CORKY I suppose he just wants to watch. That's all Violet can take. VIOLET Fuck it! I think you better leave. CORKY I think so, too. Violet turns away. VIOLET Try not to steal anything on the way out. That stings but Corky walks out without looking back. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - NIGHT It is dark now. Corky is standing above the paint tray that has skinned over. She picks up the brush. It is dry with paint. CORKY Shit. She throws the brush across the room. EXT. CAESAR'S APARTMENT BUILDING - DAY A green-and-white street sign juts in the foreground of Caesar's upscale apartment building. The sign reads: "FRANKLIN STREET." EXT. PARKING LOT - DAY The rusty Chevy glides to a stop in a parking space near the service entrance. In its payload is a boxed bathroom vanity and sink. Corky climbs out of the cab and into the back, unhooking the bungee cords that hold down the boxes. She looks up as a black Lincoln Town Car screeches into a spot not far from her truck. THREE SERIOUS-LOOKING MEN get out, leading a fourth, Shelly. He is the only one who seems to notice Corky. They enter the building, the door closing behind them. INT. BATHROOM - DAY Corky's legs jut out from the old wicker vanity as she finishes detaching its anchors and pipe work. She stands, giving it a yank and pulling it away from the wall, when voices begin to filter in from the next-door apartment. She listens - a rising string of warbling sobs drowned out by an angry voice. ANGRY VOICE Shut the fuck up! You piece of shit! We hear a scream. ANGRY VOICE You're going to tell us! You're going to fuckin' tell us! just a matter of fuckin' time! Each sentence is punctuated with grunts and thuds. ANGRY VOICE Where is it? Where the fuck is it?! We begin to close in on Corky as she listens to each thud, watching something that disturbs her. ANGRY VOICE You shit! You piece of shit! With each thud the water in the toilet shimmers like a struck cymbal. As we move closer, the sound swells until -- MATCH CUT TO: INT. CAESAR'S BATHROOM DAY Where blood splatters the toilet, heavy drops hitting the water and spreading like inverted mushroom clouds. ANGRY VOICE Did that hurt? News flash, fucko: I'm just getting started. The angry voice belongs to JOHNNIE MARZZONE. Shelly is kneeling in front of the toilet, hands tied behind his back with electrical wire. Johnnie Marzzone is a flashy young man in Armani slacks, silk shirt and silver-tipped cowboy boots. His tie is tucked in, as if torture were a fine-dining experience. Caesar and two other men are crammed in the small bathroom. JOHNNIE You got nerve trying to fuck us! Nobody fucks me! Nobody fucks my father! Nobody! Nobody! Shelly screams as Jobnnie repeatedly rams his face into the toilet. CAESAR Whoa, whoa. Come on, he's making too much noise.

musical

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Bound Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS BOUND Written by Larry & Andy Wachowski FADE IN: Inside a closet. It is a large closet with double doors, a crisp line of light cutting down through the center of the darkness. As we begin to descend, voices echo in our head. VIOLET (V.O.) I had this image of you, inside of me, like a part of me. We move past a shelf filled with hatboxes and handbags. It is a woman's closet. CORKY (V.O.) You planned this whole thing, didn't you? CAESAR (V.O.) Where's the fucking money? We glide over the tightly packed hangers, close enough to feel the different fabrics and descend past the dresses to the racks of high heels. VIOLET (V.O.) We make our own choices, we pay our own prices. CAESAR (V.O.) All part of the business. VIOLET (V.O.) All part of the business. CORKY (V.O.) What choice? We slide along the delicate taper of a stiletto heel and reach the bottom of the closet, where we find a pair of black Dr. Martens boots that are tied together with a white rope. VIOLET (V.O.) I want out. We move up the boots and we see it is a woman who is bound, lying motionless on the floor of the closet, the rope coiling tightly around her wrists. The crack at the bottom of the door lights her face. She is gagged and unconscious, a trickle of blood running down her forehead. Her name is CORKY. VIOLET (V.O.) Like a part of me. CUT TO: INT. ELEVATOR - DAY Leaning against the back of the elevator is Corky, a very butch-looking woman with short hair and a black leather jacket. She is a lesbian and wants people to know it. As the doors begin to slide shut, a woman yells. WOMAN Wait! Hold the elevator. Corky pushes the "open" button. A couple steps into the elevator. His name is CAESAR, a middle-aged Italian, wearing an expensive suit and sunglasses. She is VIOLET; a piece of sexual candy that would melt in your mouth. She hears it again, a guttural sound. CORKY Thanks again for this opportunity, Mr. Bianchinni. Goodbye. She hangs up the phone and walks toward the wall. As she gets closer, we hear a bed rocking, tapping against the wall. The man's breathing grows more and more labored until finally it swells -- DISSOLVING INTO: INT. BATHROOM - MORNING The whining motor of a high-powered drain-rod. The spiral cable whips wildly, spiraling deeper into the tub drain, black goo splattering everywhere. The machine is so loud Corky almost cannot hear someone pounding on the apartment door. Killing the motor, she stands and goes to the door. Behind the door is Violet, wearing jeans, a white T-shirt and cowboy boots. VIOLET Hi. My name is Violet. We sort of met in the elevator -- CORKY Yeah, sure. I'm Corky. VIOLET I heard you working in here and I just wondered if you'd like a cup of coffee? She is holding two cups of coffee: one black, one with cream. CORKY Sure. Come on in. Give me a minute. Violet steps inside as Corky goes back to the bathroom to wash off the drain dreck. VIOLET What happened to Rajeev? Corky calls from the bathroom, scrubbing her hands vigorously. CORKY Who? VIOLET Rajeev, the man who usually works on the building. CORKY Oh, he went home to India, but as far as I know he'll be back. She wipes her hands on her overalls, returning to the main room. VIOLET So this is temporary for you? CORKY Pretty much. One day at a time. Violet hands her the cup of black coffee. VIOLET I guessed you were straight black. CORKY Good guess. They both sip from the piping hot mugs. CORKY Mmmm ... thanks, I needed this. VIOLET My pleasure ... but to be honest, I did have a slightly ulterior motive here. I was wondering if I could ask a small favor? CORKY A favor? VIOLET Yeah, see, I'm kind of a night person, so I was wondering if it wasn't a terrible inconvenience if you could wait a bit before using power tools. CORKY Oh, I'm sorry -- VIOLET No, it isn't your fault. The walls here are just so thin. CORKY Are they really? VIOLET Yes, it really causes problems. Sometimes it's like you're in the same room. But if it's too much trouble, I understand ... CORKY No, no trouble. There's other work to do. VIOLET You're doing everything yourself? CORKY Yeah. VIOLET That is so amazing. I'm in awe of people who can fix things. My dad was like that. We never had anything new. Whenever something broke he would open it up, tinker with it and it would work. His hands were magic. She looks at Corky's hands cupped around the mug. VIOLET Yeah ... I bet your car is twenty years old. Corky smiles. CORKY Truck. VIOLET Truck. Of course. CORKY '63 Chevy. VIOLET I knew it. VIOLET SIPS VIOLET So, how do you know the owner, Mr. Bianchinni? CORKY I don't, really. I was referred to him. VIOLET Oh, really. Corky suddenly feels she has revealed something. CORKY Do you know him? VIOLET No, but Caesar does. He likes him. Says he's a good Italian. CORKY Caesar is your husband? VIOLET Oh no, no. I'm not the marrying kind. Smiling, she says nothing else. VIOLET I should be going. You can drop the cup off anytime. CORKY Thanks. VIOLET My pleasure. CORKY watches her leave. EXT. THE WATERING HOLE - NIGHT A dirty bar hidden away on a dark street, its cracked, moon- white sign the only evidence it exists. Corky's truck swings into a space in front of a couple of large motorcycles. She flips her collar and heads for the door. INT. THE WATERING HOLE - NIGHT The smell of leather and cigarette smoke fills Corky's nose as she crosses to the bar. BARTENDER Well, well ... Corky sits as the fat bartender waddles over. BARTENDER Been awhile, Cork. CORKY Five years, two months, sixteen days. How you doing, Sue? Corky puts a cigarette in her mouth and lights it. SUE Like shit. Now that we're all caught up, how about a drink? Sue opens the refrigerator and pulls out two Old Styles. CORKY Thanks. They click the bottles together and drink. SUE You got a job yet? CORKY Yeah. Some plumbing, painting and shit. Sue laughs. SUE I mean a J-O-B. A real job. CORKY Not for me, Sue. I'm straight and narrow. I'm just here to get laid or drunk and hopefully both. Corky gets off the stool. CORKY Thanks for the beer. Looking around, she sees a woman alone at one of the back tables. Through the smoky din, she bears a slight resemblance to Violet. The woman is dressed all in black, including a leather jacket. Smiling, Corky slides into the chair beside her. There is no one smoother. CORKY Hi. WOMAN Hello. CORKY You know ... that outfit would look great on my bedroom floor. The woman smiles just as someone taps Corky on the shoulder. She turns and is face-to-face with a large bull of a woman in a heavy leather Chicago Police jacket. She is more wide than fat. WOMAN COP Hey, Jesse. What's happening here? CORKY Nothing ... yet. WOMAN COP Who's this? Her coat opens as she puts her hands on her hips. A service revolver is clipped to her belt. She squints at Corky, her head nodding in recognition. WOMAN COP Wait, I know you. CORKY I don't think so. WOMAN COP I didn't know you were out. Corky smiles at the woman in black. CORKY When you get tired of Cagney and Lacey, come find me. She heads for the exit. EXT. CITY STREET - NIGHT The neighborhood would be politely described as "rough." Corky's truck does not stand out parked alone on the littered street. INT. CORKY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT It is a hole but it is home. Corky is lying on her futon staring up at the ceiling, a beer resting on her stomach; a folk singer quietly croons from the radio. We see the ceiling, a circle of light hovering over the small desk lamp. We move in on the spot, which slowly fills up the screen until there is nothing but the white light. Suddenly a wet paint roller loaded with white paint cuts a swath across the ceiling. MATCH CUT TO: INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - DAY Corky is painting the ceiling. The folk ballad has become an angry Riot Grrrl anthem. She is working hard, the roller sucking back and forth. Sweat covers her face. Dropping the roller down, she reloads it in the tray when the phone rings. She stops and answers it. CORKY Hello? Oh, hi, Mr. Bianchinni ... yes, everything is going fine. I got the tub drain all cleaned out. She listens for a moment. CORKY What apartment? She glances at the main wall. CORKY All right, all right, I guess I could take a look. Yeah, you're welcome, goodbye. She hangs up and looks again at the wall, feeling... curious. INT. HALL - NIGHT Corky knocks and after a moment Violet opens the door. She seems surprised. VIOLET Oh no. Shit. I didn't know he would call you. God, you must think |I'm a total nuisance. CORKY Not exactly. VIOLET I'm sorry, I usually would call Rajeev, but I didn't know what to do so I called Mr. Bianchinni. CORKY He said you lost something. VIOLET Yeah, come on in. She steps back and Corky walks inside. INT. CAESAR'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Violet leads her through the apartment. It is expensively furnished with very masculine tastes; a lot of gray and black leather. VIOLET I was doing some dishes and just as I pulled the stopper my earring fell in. Corky looks at her blankly. VIOLET It's one of my favorites. That's why I got upset. I know it probably seems ridiculous to you. An eyebrow goes up. VIOLET I'm sorry, look, forget it. I shouldn't have called... CORKY I told Bianchinni I would take a look. Is it that sink? Violet nods. She opens the sink cabinet and pulls out a pair of channel locks from her back pocket. The teeth of the channel locks open and bite onto the pressure nut. CORKY Do you have a pot or a bucket? VIOLET Sure. She hands one down to her. Corky slides it under the curved pipe. As she works, Corky feels herself staring at Violet, at the hem of her dress curving tightly around her thighs. Water begins to trickle into the pan. The nut slides loose and Corky tips the trap. Water splashes into the pan with a soft metal "tink." VIOLET Did you find it? Corky fishes into gray water and pulls out the earring. Violet screams, a huge smile on her face, half-falling as she tries to hug Corky. VIOLET I can't believe it! You did it! Corky leans back under and replaces the trap. VIOLET Thank you so much. You have to let me pay you something -- CORKY No. Mr. Bianchinni asked me to do it. I did it. Corky checks the drain by running the water. VIOLET If you won't take money, how about a drink? It's getting late. You can't work all night. Corky eyes her for a moment. CORKY Okay, one drink. VIOLET What do you want? CORKY A beer? VIOLET A beer. Of course. She smiles and turns to the bar. VIOLET Sit down. Corky sits on the black leather couch and Violet returns with two bottles of Heineken. Corky sneers. VIOLET Thanks again. They clink the bottles and swig. VIOLET You seem uncomfortable. Do I make you nervous, Corky? CORKY No. She looks at Violet, then takes another long pull on the bottle. VIOLET Thirsty, maybe. Violet smiles, her eyes again talking for her. CORKY Curious, maybe. VIOLET Curious? That's funny, I'm feeling a bit curious myself right now. Violet notices the tattoo on Corky's arm. VIOLET That's a great tattoo. She reaches over and touches it. VIOLET Beautiful labrys. Corky is a bit suprised that she knows what it is. She nods, rubbing it as if trying to hide it. VIOLET Are you surprised that I know what it is? CORKY Maybe. VIOLET I have a tattoo, would you like to see it? She moves closer, sliding over the leather cushions as she opens the front of her dress. VIOLET A woman in upstate New York did it for me. She is not wearing a bra. VIOLET Here. Do you like it? Set against the soft white skin of her breast is a bright green-stemmed violet. VIOLET It took her all day to do it. She promised me it wouldn't hurt, but it was sore for a long time after. I couldn't even touch it. Corky looks up from Violet's breast to her dark eyes. VIOLET But now I love the way it feels. She runs her fingers softly over the slightly scarred skin. VIOLET Here, touch it. Corky feels the blood pounding in her ears as Violet takes her hand and places it on her breast. CORKY What are you doing? Violet looks at her. VIOLET Isn't it obvious? I'm trying to seduce you. CORKY Why? VIOLET Because I want to. I've wanted to since I first saw you in the elevator. Corky watches her, trying to figure her out even as her thumb presses into Violet's nipple. Inhaling sharply, Violet closes her eyes; she can feel Corky staring at her. VIOLET You don't believe me. But I can prove it to you. She takes Corky's wrist and begins pulling her hand down her body. VIOLET You can't believe me because of what you see ... She forces Corky's hand between her legs, up under her dress. VIOLET But you can believe what you feel. Violet opens her eyes, a wanton smile on her lips. VIOLET You see ... I've been thinking about you all day. Corky's forearm flexes and Violet moans. With both hands, Violet takes hold of Corky's forearm. CORKY You planned this whole thing? Violet's head swims; she is unable to breathe. CORKY You dropped that earring down the drain on purpose, didn't you? VIOLET If I say yes, will you take your hand away? CORKY No. VIOLET ... yes. Now it is Corky who smiles. Violet shivers, her thighs rubbing, her hips thrusting against Corky's hand. VIOLET Please, Corky ... please ... Her eyes barely open. VIOLET ... kiss me. In a single motion, Corky takes hold of the back of her neck and covers Violet's open mouth with her own. With her hand still stuffed between Violet's legs, Corky lays her back onto the couch as the kiss becomes more -- More desperate, more hungry until -- We hear the front door unlock and open. CAESAR Violet? Violet's eyes pop open and she pushes Corky back. CAESAR Violet, you home? They scramble to compose themselves. VIOLET Yeah. In here, C. He comes around the corner and in the dim light sees the two figures sitting close on the couch. CAESAR What's this? He mistakes Corky for a man. CAESAR What the fuck is this? Violet stands as Caesar barrels toward the couch. VIOLET I didn't expect -- CAESAR What the fuck is going on? Corky stands and turns, Caesar suddenly realizing that she is a woman. CAESAR Oh, shit ... VIOLET Caesar, this is Corky. Corky, Caesar. CAESAR I'm sorry, Christ, I thought ... it's fucking dark in here. He reaches to the wall for the lights. VIOLET She is working for Bianchinni. Caesar extends his hand. CAESAR Oh, right, right. Don mentioned that to me. Hi, welcome to the family. Corky shakes his hand. CAESAR You're helping Rajeev? CORKY No. Rajeev's in India. VIOLET She's doing the work herself. CAESAR No shit. Bianchinni hired you? You know he's a good friend of mine. |Family, really. CORKY That's what Violet said. He looks at her as if he knows something. CAESAR So, you just got out? VIOLET Jesus, Caesar! CAESAR What? It ain't no big fuckin' deal. I know who Don hires. Did you know he did time himself? Corky shakes her head. CAESAR Thirteen fucking years. See, there ain't no secrets here. Corky doesn't like this man. CAESAR How many'd you do? CORKY Five. He whistles. CAESAR Not bad. What for? VIOLET That's none of your goddamn business, Caesar. CAESAR You're right. You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to. I just hope you understand you're among good people here. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a thick fold of money and peels several hundreds. Corky stares at it. CAESAR Come on, come on. if you understand what I'm talking about you're going to take the money. if you don't, I'm going to have to worry about you. Corky takes it. Caesar smiles. CAESAR Good. I hate to worry. I got ulcers. CORKY I should be going. CAESAR What? How about a drink? CORKY My brushes, I have to clean my brushes. Thanks, though. CAESAR Another time. CORKY Sure. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - NIGHT Close on the paintbrush, Corky's fingers pushing through and separating the black bristles under the running water. When the brush is clean, she flicks it dry and resets the edge. She goes to the sink to wash her hands when she stops, noticing her left hand. It is the hand that was between Violet's legs. She is about to smell her finger when she sees herself in the mirror. CORKY What are you doing? She drops her hand. CORKY What am I doing? I'm fucking up, that's what I'm doing. She scrubs her hands clean. EXT. PARKING LOT - NIGHT It is late, the area burnished with amber street light. Corky walks from the building to her truck. She climbs inside and slides the key into the ignition, when suddenly the passenger door opens and -- Violet gets in. Stunned, Corky stares at her. VIOLET I had to see you. CORKY Look, I don't think this is a good idea. VIOLET I wanted to apologize. CORKY Don't apologize, please. I can't stand women who apologize for wanting sex. Violet smiles. VIOLET I'm not apologizing for what I did -- She slides across the seat. VIOLET I'm apologizing for what I didn't do. She kisses Corky, and if Corky is trying to resist, we can't tell. The windshield is beginning to steam when Violet, panting, breaks the kiss. VIOLET Do you have a bed somewhere? Unable to speak, Corky reaches over and starts the engine. INT. CORKY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT The sex. There is nothing flower-scented or out-of-focus about it. It is sweaty, slippery, body-grinding, bed-squeaking lesbian sex -- Pungent and potent -- And when it is over, neither woman can move. Finally, Corky's eyes flutter open. CORKY I can see again. Violet smiles. Slowly, Corky gets up and goes to the fridge. She grabs a beer and presses it to her sweating forebead. After a moment, she lowers it, gently pressing the cold can elsewhere. Eyes closed, she lets out a long "Ahh." Violet hears the sizzle-pop of the beer as Corky returns to the bed. She holds the beer to Violet's lips and tilts the can, watching Violet's throat as she drinks. Violet's eyes open. VIOLET ... I needed that. CORKY Tell me about it. Corky hands her the beer as Violet sits up a bit. CORKY Caesar's Mafia, isn't he? VIOLET You have to ask? CORKY No. VIOLET Funny, nobody calls it that anymore. Caesar calls it "The |Business." CORKY How did you meet him? VIOLET They took over a club I was working at. Caesar started managing it. CORKY He's a launderer? VIOLET Basically. CORKY How long have you been with him? VIOLET Almost five years. CORKY Five years is a long time. VIOLET Yes, it is. Corky stares at her beer. She knows what Violet is thinking. CORKY The redistribution of wealth. VIOLET What? CORKY Isn't that what you wanted to know? What I did time for? VIOLET The redistribution of wealth? CORKY That's what I tell someone when I'm trying to get them in my bed. VIOLET I'm already in your bed. CORKY My cellmate would say she did her time for getting caught. She was always more honest than me. Corky sips her beer. CORKY I started stealing when I was little. We were piss-poor, which is not an excuse, just a fact. It isn't like her to talk about this, especially with someone she just met. CORKY The first time I remember so vividly. A bunch of us kids were at Waxman's Drugstore, when Mr. Waxman, who was a mean old prick, always worrying about us robbing him, dropped a roll of quarters. We can almost hear the coins tinkling on the tile floor. CORKY I can still hear that sound, those quarters, because right then something clicked inside of me. Some instinct took over and as everyone, including Waxman, dove down, I reached up and emptied the cash register. Violet smiles. She likes this woman. CORKY I gave most of the money to my mom. I told her I found it at the trainyard. She was so happy she cried, calling me her lucky charm. Fifteen years later, I guess my luck ran out. Sbe swallows that with beer. CORKY Sometimes I tell myself that I didn't have a choice, that stealing was surviving. Usually I can admit that's bullshit. I did it because it was a way out. It was easy and I was good at it, real good. She glances at Violet. CORKY I don't usually talk this much. I guess I have been rehabilitated. Violet laughs. VIOLET You didn't have to tell me if you didn't want to. CORKY I guess I wanted to. VIOLET I'm glad you did. CORKY So am I. EXT. PARKING LOT DAY Corky gets out of her truck carrying her tools. Grinning like someone who has been well-laid, she whistles off to work. EXT. LOBBY - DAY Between the main doors she sees a man. His name is SHELLY and he is an overdressed accountant. He is very nervous, talking to someone through the intercom. SHELLY I know he's gone. Please. I have to talk to you. Fiddling with her keys, Corky recognizes the voice that answers him. VIOLET (V.O.) What do you want, Shelly? Shelly glances over his shoulder at Corky, answering in a hushed voice. SHELLY I have to leave. Tonight. For a moment the intercom is silent. Then the door buzzes and Shelly pushes inside. Corky follows him to the elevator. INT. ELEVATOR - DAY Corky glares at Shelly and begins pumping the trigger of her circular saw. Shelly hides behind his sunglasses, watching the elevator numbers go up. The doors open and he scurries out. INT. HALL - DAY She watches him enter Caesar's apartment, her smile now completely gone. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - DAY It is later. Through the wall we listen to the same sound as before of two people making love. We drop down and find Corky's brush, still wet with paint, abandoned in her tray. INT. BEDROOM - DAY Her face glistening with sweat, Violet climaxes, letting the orgasm spread through her like melting butter. VIOLET I had this image of you, inside of me ... She flattens her palms against the soft cradle of her pelvis. VIOLET Like a part of me ... As she opens her eyes, we see that her lover is Corky. Violet watches as she gets off the bed and begins to get dressed. VIOLET You are so beautiful. Corky does not answer as she yanks her pants on. Violet sits up. She can feel that something is wrong. VIOLET What's wrong? CORKY Nothing. Violet pulls the sheet around her. VIOLET Yes there is. I felt it this morning when I brought you the coffee. CORKY Shit, here we go. VIOLET You didn't want to see me, did you? CORKY If there is one thing I can't stand about sleeping with women, it's all the fucking mind reading. VIOLET What are you afraid of? CORKY I'm not afraid of anything. VIOLET I don't understand - ? CORKY I know! You can't understand, because we're different, Violet. We're different. VIOLET We're not that different, Corky. CORKY How can you sit in that bed and say that? VIOLET Because it's the truth. CORKY Let me guess. This is where you tell me that what matters is on the inside. That inside you, there is a little dyke just like me? VIOLET Oh no, she's nothing like you. She's a lot smarter than you. CORKY Is that what her daddy tells her? VIOLET I know what I am. I don't need to have it tattooed on my shoulder. CORKY What are you saying? That you don't have sex with men? VIOLET I don't. CORKY For Christ's sake, Violet! I heard you! Thin walls, remember? VIOLET What you heard wasn't sex. CORKY What the fuck was it? VIOLET All my life, everyone has been telling me that when I have sex, I'm not really having sex. Not real sex. But they're wrong. I know what is and isn't sex and what you heard was definitely not sex. CORKY What was it then? VIOLET Work. That knocks Corky back. VIOLET You made certain choices in your life that you paid for. You said you made them because you were good at something and it was easy. Do you think you're the only one that's good at something? Violet stare pins Corky to the wall. VIOLET We make our own choices and we pay our own prices. I think we're more alike than you want to admit. CORKY What about that guy this morning? VIOLET You mean Shelly? CORKY Don't tell me, you're a workaholic. VIOLET No. Shelly knows what I am. He saw me in a bar with another woman. CORKY I suppose he just wants to watch. That's all Violet can take. VIOLET Fuck it! I think you better leave. CORKY I think so, too. Violet turns away. VIOLET Try not to steal anything on the way out. That stings but Corky walks out without looking back. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - NIGHT It is dark now. Corky is standing above the paint tray that has skinned over. She picks up the brush. It is dry with paint. CORKY Shit. She throws the brush across the room. EXT. CAESAR'S APARTMENT BUILDING - DAY A green-and-white street sign juts in the foreground of Caesar's upscale apartment building. The sign reads: "FRANKLIN STREET." EXT. PARKING LOT - DAY The rusty Chevy glides to a stop in a parking space near the service entrance. In its payload is a boxed bathroom vanity and sink. Corky climbs out of the cab and into the back, unhooking the bungee cords that hold down the boxes. She looks up as a black Lincoln Town Car screeches into a spot not far from her truck. THREE SERIOUS-LOOKING MEN get out, leading a fourth, Shelly. He is the only one who seems to notice Corky. They enter the building, the door closing behind them. INT. BATHROOM - DAY Corky's legs jut out from the old wicker vanity as she finishes detaching its anchors and pipe work. She stands, giving it a yank and pulling it away from the wall, when voices begin to filter in from the next-door apartment. She listens - a rising string of warbling sobs drowned out by an angry voice. ANGRY VOICE Shut the fuck up! You piece of shit! We hear a scream. ANGRY VOICE You're going to tell us! You're going to fuckin' tell us! just a matter of fuckin' time! Each sentence is punctuated with grunts and thuds. ANGRY VOICE Where is it? Where the fuck is it?! We begin to close in on Corky as she listens to each thud, watching something that disturbs her. ANGRY VOICE You shit! You piece of shit! With each thud the water in the toilet shimmers like a struck cymbal. As we move closer, the sound swells until -- MATCH CUT TO: INT. CAESAR'S BATHROOM DAY Where blood splatters the toilet, heavy drops hitting the water and spreading like inverted mushroom clouds. ANGRY VOICE Did that hurt? News flash, fucko: I'm just getting started. The angry voice belongs to JOHNNIE MARZZONE. Shelly is kneeling in front of the toilet, hands tied behind his back with electrical wire. Johnnie Marzzone is a flashy young man in Armani slacks, silk shirt and silver-tipped cowboy boots. His tie is tucked in, as if torture were a fine-dining experience. Caesar and two other men are crammed in the small bathroom. JOHNNIE You got nerve trying to fuck us! Nobody fucks me! Nobody fucks my father! Nobody! Nobody! Shelly screams as Jobnnie repeatedly rams his face into the toilet. CAESAR Whoa, whoa. Come on, he's making too much noise.

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Bound Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS BOUND Written by Larry & Andy Wachowski FADE IN: Inside a closet. It is a large closet with double doors, a crisp line of light cutting down through the center of the darkness. As we begin to descend, voices echo in our head. VIOLET (V.O.) I had this image of you, inside of me, like a part of me. We move past a shelf filled with hatboxes and handbags. It is a woman's closet. CORKY (V.O.) You planned this whole thing, didn't you? CAESAR (V.O.) Where's the fucking money? We glide over the tightly packed hangers, close enough to feel the different fabrics and descend past the dresses to the racks of high heels. VIOLET (V.O.) We make our own choices, we pay our own prices. CAESAR (V.O.) All part of the business. VIOLET (V.O.) All part of the business. CORKY (V.O.) What choice? We slide along the delicate taper of a stiletto heel and reach the bottom of the closet, where we find a pair of black Dr. Martens boots that are tied together with a white rope. VIOLET (V.O.) I want out. We move up the boots and we see it is a woman who is bound, lying motionless on the floor of the closet, the rope coiling tightly around her wrists. The crack at the bottom of the door lights her face. She is gagged and unconscious, a trickle of blood running down her forehead. Her name is CORKY. VIOLET (V.O.) Like a part of me. CUT TO: INT. ELEVATOR - DAY Leaning against the back of the elevator is Corky, a very butch-looking woman with short hair and a black leather jacket. She is a lesbian and wants people to know it. As the doors begin to slide shut, a woman yells. WOMAN Wait! Hold the elevator. Corky pushes the "open" button. A couple steps into the elevator. His name is CAESAR, a middle-aged Italian, wearing an expensive suit and sunglasses. She is VIOLET; a piece of sexual candy that would melt in your mouth. She hears it again, a guttural sound. CORKY Thanks again for this opportunity, Mr. Bianchinni. Goodbye. She hangs up the phone and walks toward the wall. As she gets closer, we hear a bed rocking, tapping against the wall. The man's breathing grows more and more labored until finally it swells -- DISSOLVING INTO: INT. BATHROOM - MORNING The whining motor of a high-powered drain-rod. The spiral cable whips wildly, spiraling deeper into the tub drain, black goo splattering everywhere. The machine is so loud Corky almost cannot hear someone pounding on the apartment door. Killing the motor, she stands and goes to the door. Behind the door is Violet, wearing jeans, a white T-shirt and cowboy boots. VIOLET Hi. My name is Violet. We sort of met in the elevator -- CORKY Yeah, sure. I'm Corky. VIOLET I heard you working in here and I just wondered if you'd like a cup of coffee? She is holding two cups of coffee: one black, one with cream. CORKY Sure. Come on in. Give me a minute. Violet steps inside as Corky goes back to the bathroom to wash off the drain dreck. VIOLET What happened to Rajeev? Corky calls from the bathroom, scrubbing her hands vigorously. CORKY Who? VIOLET Rajeev, the man who usually works on the building. CORKY Oh, he went home to India, but as far as I know he'll be back. She wipes her hands on her overalls, returning to the main room. VIOLET So this is temporary for you? CORKY Pretty much. One day at a time. Violet hands her the cup of black coffee. VIOLET I guessed you were straight black. CORKY Good guess. They both sip from the piping hot mugs. CORKY Mmmm ... thanks, I needed this. VIOLET My pleasure ... but to be honest, I did have a slightly ulterior motive here. I was wondering if I could ask a small favor? CORKY A favor? VIOLET Yeah, see, I'm kind of a night person, so I was wondering if it wasn't a terrible inconvenience if you could wait a bit before using power tools. CORKY Oh, I'm sorry -- VIOLET No, it isn't your fault. The walls here are just so thin. CORKY Are they really? VIOLET Yes, it really causes problems. Sometimes it's like you're in the same room. But if it's too much trouble, I understand ... CORKY No, no trouble. There's other work to do. VIOLET You're doing everything yourself? CORKY Yeah. VIOLET That is so amazing. I'm in awe of people who can fix things. My dad was like that. We never had anything new. Whenever something broke he would open it up, tinker with it and it would work. His hands were magic. She looks at Corky's hands cupped around the mug. VIOLET Yeah ... I bet your car is twenty years old. Corky smiles. CORKY Truck. VIOLET Truck. Of course. CORKY '63 Chevy. VIOLET I knew it. VIOLET SIPS VIOLET So, how do you know the owner, Mr. Bianchinni? CORKY I don't, really. I was referred to him. VIOLET Oh, really. Corky suddenly feels she has revealed something. CORKY Do you know him? VIOLET No, but Caesar does. He likes him. Says he's a good Italian. CORKY Caesar is your husband? VIOLET Oh no, no. I'm not the marrying kind. Smiling, she says nothing else. VIOLET I should be going. You can drop the cup off anytime. CORKY Thanks. VIOLET My pleasure. CORKY watches her leave. EXT. THE WATERING HOLE - NIGHT A dirty bar hidden away on a dark street, its cracked, moon- white sign the only evidence it exists. Corky's truck swings into a space in front of a couple of large motorcycles. She flips her collar and heads for the door. INT. THE WATERING HOLE - NIGHT The smell of leather and cigarette smoke fills Corky's nose as she crosses to the bar. BARTENDER Well, well ... Corky sits as the fat bartender waddles over. BARTENDER Been awhile, Cork. CORKY Five years, two months, sixteen days. How you doing, Sue? Corky puts a cigarette in her mouth and lights it. SUE Like shit. Now that we're all caught up, how about a drink? Sue opens the refrigerator and pulls out two Old Styles. CORKY Thanks. They click the bottles together and drink. SUE You got a job yet? CORKY Yeah. Some plumbing, painting and shit. Sue laughs. SUE I mean a J-O-B. A real job. CORKY Not for me, Sue. I'm straight and narrow. I'm just here to get laid or drunk and hopefully both. Corky gets off the stool. CORKY Thanks for the beer. Looking around, she sees a woman alone at one of the back tables. Through the smoky din, she bears a slight resemblance to Violet. The woman is dressed all in black, including a leather jacket. Smiling, Corky slides into the chair beside her. There is no one smoother. CORKY Hi. WOMAN Hello. CORKY You know ... that outfit would look great on my bedroom floor. The woman smiles just as someone taps Corky on the shoulder. She turns and is face-to-face with a large bull of a woman in a heavy leather Chicago Police jacket. She is more wide than fat. WOMAN COP Hey, Jesse. What's happening here? CORKY Nothing ... yet. WOMAN COP Who's this? Her coat opens as she puts her hands on her hips. A service revolver is clipped to her belt. She squints at Corky, her head nodding in recognition. WOMAN COP Wait, I know you. CORKY I don't think so. WOMAN COP I didn't know you were out. Corky smiles at the woman in black. CORKY When you get tired of Cagney and Lacey, come find me. She heads for the exit. EXT. CITY STREET - NIGHT The neighborhood would be politely described as "rough." Corky's truck does not stand out parked alone on the littered street. INT. CORKY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT It is a hole but it is home. Corky is lying on her futon staring up at the ceiling, a beer resting on her stomach; a folk singer quietly croons from the radio. We see the ceiling, a circle of light hovering over the small desk lamp. We move in on the spot, which slowly fills up the screen until there is nothing but the white light. Suddenly a wet paint roller loaded with white paint cuts a swath across the ceiling. MATCH CUT TO: INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - DAY Corky is painting the ceiling. The folk ballad has become an angry Riot Grrrl anthem. She is working hard, the roller sucking back and forth. Sweat covers her face. Dropping the roller down, she reloads it in the tray when the phone rings. She stops and answers it. CORKY Hello? Oh, hi, Mr. Bianchinni ... yes, everything is going fine. I got the tub drain all cleaned out. She listens for a moment. CORKY What apartment? She glances at the main wall. CORKY All right, all right, I guess I could take a look. Yeah, you're welcome, goodbye. She hangs up and looks again at the wall, feeling... curious. INT. HALL - NIGHT Corky knocks and after a moment Violet opens the door. She seems surprised. VIOLET Oh no. Shit. I didn't know he would call you. God, you must think |I'm a total nuisance. CORKY Not exactly. VIOLET I'm sorry, I usually would call Rajeev, but I didn't know what to do so I called Mr. Bianchinni. CORKY He said you lost something. VIOLET Yeah, come on in. She steps back and Corky walks inside. INT. CAESAR'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Violet leads her through the apartment. It is expensively furnished with very masculine tastes; a lot of gray and black leather. VIOLET I was doing some dishes and just as I pulled the stopper my earring fell in. Corky looks at her blankly. VIOLET It's one of my favorites. That's why I got upset. I know it probably seems ridiculous to you. An eyebrow goes up. VIOLET I'm sorry, look, forget it. I shouldn't have called... CORKY I told Bianchinni I would take a look. Is it that sink? Violet nods. She opens the sink cabinet and pulls out a pair of channel locks from her back pocket. The teeth of the channel locks open and bite onto the pressure nut. CORKY Do you have a pot or a bucket? VIOLET Sure. She hands one down to her. Corky slides it under the curved pipe. As she works, Corky feels herself staring at Violet, at the hem of her dress curving tightly around her thighs. Water begins to trickle into the pan. The nut slides loose and Corky tips the trap. Water splashes into the pan with a soft metal "tink." VIOLET Did you find it? Corky fishes into gray water and pulls out the earring. Violet screams, a huge smile on her face, half-falling as she tries to hug Corky. VIOLET I can't believe it! You did it! Corky leans back under and replaces the trap. VIOLET Thank you so much. You have to let me pay you something -- CORKY No. Mr. Bianchinni asked me to do it. I did it. Corky checks the drain by running the water. VIOLET If you won't take money, how about a drink? It's getting late. You can't work all night. Corky eyes her for a moment. CORKY Okay, one drink. VIOLET What do you want? CORKY A beer? VIOLET A beer. Of course. She smiles and turns to the bar. VIOLET Sit down. Corky sits on the black leather couch and Violet returns with two bottles of Heineken. Corky sneers. VIOLET Thanks again. They clink the bottles and swig. VIOLET You seem uncomfortable. Do I make you nervous, Corky? CORKY No. She looks at Violet, then takes another long pull on the bottle. VIOLET Thirsty, maybe. Violet smiles, her eyes again talking for her. CORKY Curious, maybe. VIOLET Curious? That's funny, I'm feeling a bit curious myself right now. Violet notices the tattoo on Corky's arm. VIOLET That's a great tattoo. She reaches over and touches it. VIOLET Beautiful labrys. Corky is a bit suprised that she knows what it is. She nods, rubbing it as if trying to hide it. VIOLET Are you surprised that I know what it is? CORKY Maybe. VIOLET I have a tattoo, would you like to see it? She moves closer, sliding over the leather cushions as she opens the front of her dress. VIOLET A woman in upstate New York did it for me. She is not wearing a bra. VIOLET Here. Do you like it? Set against the soft white skin of her breast is a bright green-stemmed violet. VIOLET It took her all day to do it. She promised me it wouldn't hurt, but it was sore for a long time after. I couldn't even touch it. Corky looks up from Violet's breast to her dark eyes. VIOLET But now I love the way it feels. She runs her fingers softly over the slightly scarred skin. VIOLET Here, touch it. Corky feels the blood pounding in her ears as Violet takes her hand and places it on her breast. CORKY What are you doing? Violet looks at her. VIOLET Isn't it obvious? I'm trying to seduce you. CORKY Why? VIOLET Because I want to. I've wanted to since I first saw you in the elevator. Corky watches her, trying to figure her out even as her thumb presses into Violet's nipple. Inhaling sharply, Violet closes her eyes; she can feel Corky staring at her. VIOLET You don't believe me. But I can prove it to you. She takes Corky's wrist and begins pulling her hand down her body. VIOLET You can't believe me because of what you see ... She forces Corky's hand between her legs, up under her dress. VIOLET But you can believe what you feel. Violet opens her eyes, a wanton smile on her lips. VIOLET You see ... I've been thinking about you all day. Corky's forearm flexes and Violet moans. With both hands, Violet takes hold of Corky's forearm. CORKY You planned this whole thing? Violet's head swims; she is unable to breathe. CORKY You dropped that earring down the drain on purpose, didn't you? VIOLET If I say yes, will you take your hand away? CORKY No. VIOLET ... yes. Now it is Corky who smiles. Violet shivers, her thighs rubbing, her hips thrusting against Corky's hand. VIOLET Please, Corky ... please ... Her eyes barely open. VIOLET ... kiss me. In a single motion, Corky takes hold of the back of her neck and covers Violet's open mouth with her own. With her hand still stuffed between Violet's legs, Corky lays her back onto the couch as the kiss becomes more -- More desperate, more hungry until -- We hear the front door unlock and open. CAESAR Violet? Violet's eyes pop open and she pushes Corky back. CAESAR Violet, you home? They scramble to compose themselves. VIOLET Yeah. In here, C. He comes around the corner and in the dim light sees the two figures sitting close on the couch. CAESAR What's this? He mistakes Corky for a man. CAESAR What the fuck is this? Violet stands as Caesar barrels toward the couch. VIOLET I didn't expect -- CAESAR What the fuck is going on? Corky stands and turns, Caesar suddenly realizing that she is a woman. CAESAR Oh, shit ... VIOLET Caesar, this is Corky. Corky, Caesar. CAESAR I'm sorry, Christ, I thought ... it's fucking dark in here. He reaches to the wall for the lights. VIOLET She is working for Bianchinni. Caesar extends his hand. CAESAR Oh, right, right. Don mentioned that to me. Hi, welcome to the family. Corky shakes his hand. CAESAR You're helping Rajeev? CORKY No. Rajeev's in India. VIOLET She's doing the work herself. CAESAR No shit. Bianchinni hired you? You know he's a good friend of mine. |Family, really. CORKY That's what Violet said. He looks at her as if he knows something. CAESAR So, you just got out? VIOLET Jesus, Caesar! CAESAR What? It ain't no big fuckin' deal. I know who Don hires. Did you know he did time himself? Corky shakes her head. CAESAR Thirteen fucking years. See, there ain't no secrets here. Corky doesn't like this man. CAESAR How many'd you do? CORKY Five. He whistles. CAESAR Not bad. What for? VIOLET That's none of your goddamn business, Caesar. CAESAR You're right. You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to. I just hope you understand you're among good people here. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a thick fold of money and peels several hundreds. Corky stares at it. CAESAR Come on, come on. if you understand what I'm talking about you're going to take the money. if you don't, I'm going to have to worry about you. Corky takes it. Caesar smiles. CAESAR Good. I hate to worry. I got ulcers. CORKY I should be going. CAESAR What? How about a drink? CORKY My brushes, I have to clean my brushes. Thanks, though. CAESAR Another time. CORKY Sure. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - NIGHT Close on the paintbrush, Corky's fingers pushing through and separating the black bristles under the running water. When the brush is clean, she flicks it dry and resets the edge. She goes to the sink to wash her hands when she stops, noticing her left hand. It is the hand that was between Violet's legs. She is about to smell her finger when she sees herself in the mirror. CORKY What are you doing? She drops her hand. CORKY What am I doing? I'm fucking up, that's what I'm doing. She scrubs her hands clean. EXT. PARKING LOT - NIGHT It is late, the area burnished with amber street light. Corky walks from the building to her truck. She climbs inside and slides the key into the ignition, when suddenly the passenger door opens and -- Violet gets in. Stunned, Corky stares at her. VIOLET I had to see you. CORKY Look, I don't think this is a good idea. VIOLET I wanted to apologize. CORKY Don't apologize, please. I can't stand women who apologize for wanting sex. Violet smiles. VIOLET I'm not apologizing for what I did -- She slides across the seat. VIOLET I'm apologizing for what I didn't do. She kisses Corky, and if Corky is trying to resist, we can't tell. The windshield is beginning to steam when Violet, panting, breaks the kiss. VIOLET Do you have a bed somewhere? Unable to speak, Corky reaches over and starts the engine. INT. CORKY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT The sex. There is nothing flower-scented or out-of-focus about it. It is sweaty, slippery, body-grinding, bed-squeaking lesbian sex -- Pungent and potent -- And when it is over, neither woman can move. Finally, Corky's eyes flutter open. CORKY I can see again. Violet smiles. Slowly, Corky gets up and goes to the fridge. She grabs a beer and presses it to her sweating forebead. After a moment, she lowers it, gently pressing the cold can elsewhere. Eyes closed, she lets out a long "Ahh." Violet hears the sizzle-pop of the beer as Corky returns to the bed. She holds the beer to Violet's lips and tilts the can, watching Violet's throat as she drinks. Violet's eyes open. VIOLET ... I needed that. CORKY Tell me about it. Corky hands her the beer as Violet sits up a bit. CORKY Caesar's Mafia, isn't he? VIOLET You have to ask? CORKY No. VIOLET Funny, nobody calls it that anymore. Caesar calls it "The |Business." CORKY How did you meet him? VIOLET They took over a club I was working at. Caesar started managing it. CORKY He's a launderer? VIOLET Basically. CORKY How long have you been with him? VIOLET Almost five years. CORKY Five years is a long time. VIOLET Yes, it is. Corky stares at her beer. She knows what Violet is thinking. CORKY The redistribution of wealth. VIOLET What? CORKY Isn't that what you wanted to know? What I did time for? VIOLET The redistribution of wealth? CORKY That's what I tell someone when I'm trying to get them in my bed. VIOLET I'm already in your bed. CORKY My cellmate would say she did her time for getting caught. She was always more honest than me. Corky sips her beer. CORKY I started stealing when I was little. We were piss-poor, which is not an excuse, just a fact. It isn't like her to talk about this, especially with someone she just met. CORKY The first time I remember so vividly. A bunch of us kids were at Waxman's Drugstore, when Mr. Waxman, who was a mean old prick, always worrying about us robbing him, dropped a roll of quarters. We can almost hear the coins tinkling on the tile floor. CORKY I can still hear that sound, those quarters, because right then something clicked inside of me. Some instinct took over and as everyone, including Waxman, dove down, I reached up and emptied the cash register. Violet smiles. She likes this woman. CORKY I gave most of the money to my mom. I told her I found it at the trainyard. She was so happy she cried, calling me her lucky charm. Fifteen years later, I guess my luck ran out. Sbe swallows that with beer. CORKY Sometimes I tell myself that I didn't have a choice, that stealing was surviving. Usually I can admit that's bullshit. I did it because it was a way out. It was easy and I was good at it, real good. She glances at Violet. CORKY I don't usually talk this much. I guess I have been rehabilitated. Violet laughs. VIOLET You didn't have to tell me if you didn't want to. CORKY I guess I wanted to. VIOLET I'm glad you did. CORKY So am I. EXT. PARKING LOT DAY Corky gets out of her truck carrying her tools. Grinning like someone who has been well-laid, she whistles off to work. EXT. LOBBY - DAY Between the main doors she sees a man. His name is SHELLY and he is an overdressed accountant. He is very nervous, talking to someone through the intercom. SHELLY I know he's gone. Please. I have to talk to you. Fiddling with her keys, Corky recognizes the voice that answers him. VIOLET (V.O.) What do you want, Shelly? Shelly glances over his shoulder at Corky, answering in a hushed voice. SHELLY I have to leave. Tonight. For a moment the intercom is silent. Then the door buzzes and Shelly pushes inside. Corky follows him to the elevator. INT. ELEVATOR - DAY Corky glares at Shelly and begins pumping the trigger of her circular saw. Shelly hides behind his sunglasses, watching the elevator numbers go up. The doors open and he scurries out. INT. HALL - DAY She watches him enter Caesar's apartment, her smile now completely gone. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - DAY It is later. Through the wall we listen to the same sound as before of two people making love. We drop down and find Corky's brush, still wet with paint, abandoned in her tray. INT. BEDROOM - DAY Her face glistening with sweat, Violet climaxes, letting the orgasm spread through her like melting butter. VIOLET I had this image of you, inside of me ... She flattens her palms against the soft cradle of her pelvis. VIOLET Like a part of me ... As she opens her eyes, we see that her lover is Corky. Violet watches as she gets off the bed and begins to get dressed. VIOLET You are so beautiful. Corky does not answer as she yanks her pants on. Violet sits up. She can feel that something is wrong. VIOLET What's wrong? CORKY Nothing. Violet pulls the sheet around her. VIOLET Yes there is. I felt it this morning when I brought you the coffee. CORKY Shit, here we go. VIOLET You didn't want to see me, did you? CORKY If there is one thing I can't stand about sleeping with women, it's all the fucking mind reading. VIOLET What are you afraid of? CORKY I'm not afraid of anything. VIOLET I don't understand - ? CORKY I know! You can't understand, because we're different, Violet. We're different. VIOLET We're not that different, Corky. CORKY How can you sit in that bed and say that? VIOLET Because it's the truth. CORKY Let me guess. This is where you tell me that what matters is on the inside. That inside you, there is a little dyke just like me? VIOLET Oh no, she's nothing like you. She's a lot smarter than you. CORKY Is that what her daddy tells her? VIOLET I know what I am. I don't need to have it tattooed on my shoulder. CORKY What are you saying? That you don't have sex with men? VIOLET I don't. CORKY For Christ's sake, Violet! I heard you! Thin walls, remember? VIOLET What you heard wasn't sex. CORKY What the fuck was it? VIOLET All my life, everyone has been telling me that when I have sex, I'm not really having sex. Not real sex. But they're wrong. I know what is and isn't sex and what you heard was definitely not sex. CORKY What was it then? VIOLET Work. That knocks Corky back. VIOLET You made certain choices in your life that you paid for. You said you made them because you were good at something and it was easy. Do you think you're the only one that's good at something? Violet stare pins Corky to the wall. VIOLET We make our own choices and we pay our own prices. I think we're more alike than you want to admit. CORKY What about that guy this morning? VIOLET You mean Shelly? CORKY Don't tell me, you're a workaholic. VIOLET No. Shelly knows what I am. He saw me in a bar with another woman. CORKY I suppose he just wants to watch. That's all Violet can take. VIOLET Fuck it! I think you better leave. CORKY I think so, too. Violet turns away. VIOLET Try not to steal anything on the way out. That stings but Corky walks out without looking back. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - NIGHT It is dark now. Corky is standing above the paint tray that has skinned over. She picks up the brush. It is dry with paint. CORKY Shit. She throws the brush across the room. EXT. CAESAR'S APARTMENT BUILDING - DAY A green-and-white street sign juts in the foreground of Caesar's upscale apartment building. The sign reads: "FRANKLIN STREET." EXT. PARKING LOT - DAY The rusty Chevy glides to a stop in a parking space near the service entrance. In its payload is a boxed bathroom vanity and sink. Corky climbs out of the cab and into the back, unhooking the bungee cords that hold down the boxes. She looks up as a black Lincoln Town Car screeches into a spot not far from her truck. THREE SERIOUS-LOOKING MEN get out, leading a fourth, Shelly. He is the only one who seems to notice Corky. They enter the building, the door closing behind them. INT. BATHROOM - DAY Corky's legs jut out from the old wicker vanity as she finishes detaching its anchors and pipe work. She stands, giving it a yank and pulling it away from the wall, when voices begin to filter in from the next-door apartment. She listens - a rising string of warbling sobs drowned out by an angry voice. ANGRY VOICE Shut the fuck up! You piece of shit! We hear a scream. ANGRY VOICE You're going to tell us! You're going to fuckin' tell us! just a matter of fuckin' time! Each sentence is punctuated with grunts and thuds. ANGRY VOICE Where is it? Where the fuck is it?! We begin to close in on Corky as she listens to each thud, watching something that disturbs her. ANGRY VOICE You shit! You piece of shit! With each thud the water in the toilet shimmers like a struck cymbal. As we move closer, the sound swells until -- MATCH CUT TO: INT. CAESAR'S BATHROOM DAY Where blood splatters the toilet, heavy drops hitting the water and spreading like inverted mushroom clouds. ANGRY VOICE Did that hurt? News flash, fucko: I'm just getting started. The angry voice belongs to JOHNNIE MARZZONE. Shelly is kneeling in front of the toilet, hands tied behind his back with electrical wire. Johnnie Marzzone is a flashy young man in Armani slacks, silk shirt and silver-tipped cowboy boots. His tie is tucked in, as if torture were a fine-dining experience. Caesar and two other men are crammed in the small bathroom. JOHNNIE You got nerve trying to fuck us! Nobody fucks me! Nobody fucks my father! Nobody! Nobody! Shelly screams as Jobnnie repeatedly rams his face into the toilet. CAESAR Whoa, whoa. Come on, he's making too much noise.

cork

How many times the word 'cork' appears in the text?

Bound Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS BOUND Written by Larry & Andy Wachowski FADE IN: Inside a closet. It is a large closet with double doors, a crisp line of light cutting down through the center of the darkness. As we begin to descend, voices echo in our head. VIOLET (V.O.) I had this image of you, inside of me, like a part of me. We move past a shelf filled with hatboxes and handbags. It is a woman's closet. CORKY (V.O.) You planned this whole thing, didn't you? CAESAR (V.O.) Where's the fucking money? We glide over the tightly packed hangers, close enough to feel the different fabrics and descend past the dresses to the racks of high heels. VIOLET (V.O.) We make our own choices, we pay our own prices. CAESAR (V.O.) All part of the business. VIOLET (V.O.) All part of the business. CORKY (V.O.) What choice? We slide along the delicate taper of a stiletto heel and reach the bottom of the closet, where we find a pair of black Dr. Martens boots that are tied together with a white rope. VIOLET (V.O.) I want out. We move up the boots and we see it is a woman who is bound, lying motionless on the floor of the closet, the rope coiling tightly around her wrists. The crack at the bottom of the door lights her face. She is gagged and unconscious, a trickle of blood running down her forehead. Her name is CORKY. VIOLET (V.O.) Like a part of me. CUT TO: INT. ELEVATOR - DAY Leaning against the back of the elevator is Corky, a very butch-looking woman with short hair and a black leather jacket. She is a lesbian and wants people to know it. As the doors begin to slide shut, a woman yells. WOMAN Wait! Hold the elevator. Corky pushes the "open" button. A couple steps into the elevator. His name is CAESAR, a middle-aged Italian, wearing an expensive suit and sunglasses. She is VIOLET; a piece of sexual candy that would melt in your mouth. She hears it again, a guttural sound. CORKY Thanks again for this opportunity, Mr. Bianchinni. Goodbye. She hangs up the phone and walks toward the wall. As she gets closer, we hear a bed rocking, tapping against the wall. The man's breathing grows more and more labored until finally it swells -- DISSOLVING INTO: INT. BATHROOM - MORNING The whining motor of a high-powered drain-rod. The spiral cable whips wildly, spiraling deeper into the tub drain, black goo splattering everywhere. The machine is so loud Corky almost cannot hear someone pounding on the apartment door. Killing the motor, she stands and goes to the door. Behind the door is Violet, wearing jeans, a white T-shirt and cowboy boots. VIOLET Hi. My name is Violet. We sort of met in the elevator -- CORKY Yeah, sure. I'm Corky. VIOLET I heard you working in here and I just wondered if you'd like a cup of coffee? She is holding two cups of coffee: one black, one with cream. CORKY Sure. Come on in. Give me a minute. Violet steps inside as Corky goes back to the bathroom to wash off the drain dreck. VIOLET What happened to Rajeev? Corky calls from the bathroom, scrubbing her hands vigorously. CORKY Who? VIOLET Rajeev, the man who usually works on the building. CORKY Oh, he went home to India, but as far as I know he'll be back. She wipes her hands on her overalls, returning to the main room. VIOLET So this is temporary for you? CORKY Pretty much. One day at a time. Violet hands her the cup of black coffee. VIOLET I guessed you were straight black. CORKY Good guess. They both sip from the piping hot mugs. CORKY Mmmm ... thanks, I needed this. VIOLET My pleasure ... but to be honest, I did have a slightly ulterior motive here. I was wondering if I could ask a small favor? CORKY A favor? VIOLET Yeah, see, I'm kind of a night person, so I was wondering if it wasn't a terrible inconvenience if you could wait a bit before using power tools. CORKY Oh, I'm sorry -- VIOLET No, it isn't your fault. The walls here are just so thin. CORKY Are they really? VIOLET Yes, it really causes problems. Sometimes it's like you're in the same room. But if it's too much trouble, I understand ... CORKY No, no trouble. There's other work to do. VIOLET You're doing everything yourself? CORKY Yeah. VIOLET That is so amazing. I'm in awe of people who can fix things. My dad was like that. We never had anything new. Whenever something broke he would open it up, tinker with it and it would work. His hands were magic. She looks at Corky's hands cupped around the mug. VIOLET Yeah ... I bet your car is twenty years old. Corky smiles. CORKY Truck. VIOLET Truck. Of course. CORKY '63 Chevy. VIOLET I knew it. VIOLET SIPS VIOLET So, how do you know the owner, Mr. Bianchinni? CORKY I don't, really. I was referred to him. VIOLET Oh, really. Corky suddenly feels she has revealed something. CORKY Do you know him? VIOLET No, but Caesar does. He likes him. Says he's a good Italian. CORKY Caesar is your husband? VIOLET Oh no, no. I'm not the marrying kind. Smiling, she says nothing else. VIOLET I should be going. You can drop the cup off anytime. CORKY Thanks. VIOLET My pleasure. CORKY watches her leave. EXT. THE WATERING HOLE - NIGHT A dirty bar hidden away on a dark street, its cracked, moon- white sign the only evidence it exists. Corky's truck swings into a space in front of a couple of large motorcycles. She flips her collar and heads for the door. INT. THE WATERING HOLE - NIGHT The smell of leather and cigarette smoke fills Corky's nose as she crosses to the bar. BARTENDER Well, well ... Corky sits as the fat bartender waddles over. BARTENDER Been awhile, Cork. CORKY Five years, two months, sixteen days. How you doing, Sue? Corky puts a cigarette in her mouth and lights it. SUE Like shit. Now that we're all caught up, how about a drink? Sue opens the refrigerator and pulls out two Old Styles. CORKY Thanks. They click the bottles together and drink. SUE You got a job yet? CORKY Yeah. Some plumbing, painting and shit. Sue laughs. SUE I mean a J-O-B. A real job. CORKY Not for me, Sue. I'm straight and narrow. I'm just here to get laid or drunk and hopefully both. Corky gets off the stool. CORKY Thanks for the beer. Looking around, she sees a woman alone at one of the back tables. Through the smoky din, she bears a slight resemblance to Violet. The woman is dressed all in black, including a leather jacket. Smiling, Corky slides into the chair beside her. There is no one smoother. CORKY Hi. WOMAN Hello. CORKY You know ... that outfit would look great on my bedroom floor. The woman smiles just as someone taps Corky on the shoulder. She turns and is face-to-face with a large bull of a woman in a heavy leather Chicago Police jacket. She is more wide than fat. WOMAN COP Hey, Jesse. What's happening here? CORKY Nothing ... yet. WOMAN COP Who's this? Her coat opens as she puts her hands on her hips. A service revolver is clipped to her belt. She squints at Corky, her head nodding in recognition. WOMAN COP Wait, I know you. CORKY I don't think so. WOMAN COP I didn't know you were out. Corky smiles at the woman in black. CORKY When you get tired of Cagney and Lacey, come find me. She heads for the exit. EXT. CITY STREET - NIGHT The neighborhood would be politely described as "rough." Corky's truck does not stand out parked alone on the littered street. INT. CORKY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT It is a hole but it is home. Corky is lying on her futon staring up at the ceiling, a beer resting on her stomach; a folk singer quietly croons from the radio. We see the ceiling, a circle of light hovering over the small desk lamp. We move in on the spot, which slowly fills up the screen until there is nothing but the white light. Suddenly a wet paint roller loaded with white paint cuts a swath across the ceiling. MATCH CUT TO: INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - DAY Corky is painting the ceiling. The folk ballad has become an angry Riot Grrrl anthem. She is working hard, the roller sucking back and forth. Sweat covers her face. Dropping the roller down, she reloads it in the tray when the phone rings. She stops and answers it. CORKY Hello? Oh, hi, Mr. Bianchinni ... yes, everything is going fine. I got the tub drain all cleaned out. She listens for a moment. CORKY What apartment? She glances at the main wall. CORKY All right, all right, I guess I could take a look. Yeah, you're welcome, goodbye. She hangs up and looks again at the wall, feeling... curious. INT. HALL - NIGHT Corky knocks and after a moment Violet opens the door. She seems surprised. VIOLET Oh no. Shit. I didn't know he would call you. God, you must think |I'm a total nuisance. CORKY Not exactly. VIOLET I'm sorry, I usually would call Rajeev, but I didn't know what to do so I called Mr. Bianchinni. CORKY He said you lost something. VIOLET Yeah, come on in. She steps back and Corky walks inside. INT. CAESAR'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Violet leads her through the apartment. It is expensively furnished with very masculine tastes; a lot of gray and black leather. VIOLET I was doing some dishes and just as I pulled the stopper my earring fell in. Corky looks at her blankly. VIOLET It's one of my favorites. That's why I got upset. I know it probably seems ridiculous to you. An eyebrow goes up. VIOLET I'm sorry, look, forget it. I shouldn't have called... CORKY I told Bianchinni I would take a look. Is it that sink? Violet nods. She opens the sink cabinet and pulls out a pair of channel locks from her back pocket. The teeth of the channel locks open and bite onto the pressure nut. CORKY Do you have a pot or a bucket? VIOLET Sure. She hands one down to her. Corky slides it under the curved pipe. As she works, Corky feels herself staring at Violet, at the hem of her dress curving tightly around her thighs. Water begins to trickle into the pan. The nut slides loose and Corky tips the trap. Water splashes into the pan with a soft metal "tink." VIOLET Did you find it? Corky fishes into gray water and pulls out the earring. Violet screams, a huge smile on her face, half-falling as she tries to hug Corky. VIOLET I can't believe it! You did it! Corky leans back under and replaces the trap. VIOLET Thank you so much. You have to let me pay you something -- CORKY No. Mr. Bianchinni asked me to do it. I did it. Corky checks the drain by running the water. VIOLET If you won't take money, how about a drink? It's getting late. You can't work all night. Corky eyes her for a moment. CORKY Okay, one drink. VIOLET What do you want? CORKY A beer? VIOLET A beer. Of course. She smiles and turns to the bar. VIOLET Sit down. Corky sits on the black leather couch and Violet returns with two bottles of Heineken. Corky sneers. VIOLET Thanks again. They clink the bottles and swig. VIOLET You seem uncomfortable. Do I make you nervous, Corky? CORKY No. She looks at Violet, then takes another long pull on the bottle. VIOLET Thirsty, maybe. Violet smiles, her eyes again talking for her. CORKY Curious, maybe. VIOLET Curious? That's funny, I'm feeling a bit curious myself right now. Violet notices the tattoo on Corky's arm. VIOLET That's a great tattoo. She reaches over and touches it. VIOLET Beautiful labrys. Corky is a bit suprised that she knows what it is. She nods, rubbing it as if trying to hide it. VIOLET Are you surprised that I know what it is? CORKY Maybe. VIOLET I have a tattoo, would you like to see it? She moves closer, sliding over the leather cushions as she opens the front of her dress. VIOLET A woman in upstate New York did it for me. She is not wearing a bra. VIOLET Here. Do you like it? Set against the soft white skin of her breast is a bright green-stemmed violet. VIOLET It took her all day to do it. She promised me it wouldn't hurt, but it was sore for a long time after. I couldn't even touch it. Corky looks up from Violet's breast to her dark eyes. VIOLET But now I love the way it feels. She runs her fingers softly over the slightly scarred skin. VIOLET Here, touch it. Corky feels the blood pounding in her ears as Violet takes her hand and places it on her breast. CORKY What are you doing? Violet looks at her. VIOLET Isn't it obvious? I'm trying to seduce you. CORKY Why? VIOLET Because I want to. I've wanted to since I first saw you in the elevator. Corky watches her, trying to figure her out even as her thumb presses into Violet's nipple. Inhaling sharply, Violet closes her eyes; she can feel Corky staring at her. VIOLET You don't believe me. But I can prove it to you. She takes Corky's wrist and begins pulling her hand down her body. VIOLET You can't believe me because of what you see ... She forces Corky's hand between her legs, up under her dress. VIOLET But you can believe what you feel. Violet opens her eyes, a wanton smile on her lips. VIOLET You see ... I've been thinking about you all day. Corky's forearm flexes and Violet moans. With both hands, Violet takes hold of Corky's forearm. CORKY You planned this whole thing? Violet's head swims; she is unable to breathe. CORKY You dropped that earring down the drain on purpose, didn't you? VIOLET If I say yes, will you take your hand away? CORKY No. VIOLET ... yes. Now it is Corky who smiles. Violet shivers, her thighs rubbing, her hips thrusting against Corky's hand. VIOLET Please, Corky ... please ... Her eyes barely open. VIOLET ... kiss me. In a single motion, Corky takes hold of the back of her neck and covers Violet's open mouth with her own. With her hand still stuffed between Violet's legs, Corky lays her back onto the couch as the kiss becomes more -- More desperate, more hungry until -- We hear the front door unlock and open. CAESAR Violet? Violet's eyes pop open and she pushes Corky back. CAESAR Violet, you home? They scramble to compose themselves. VIOLET Yeah. In here, C. He comes around the corner and in the dim light sees the two figures sitting close on the couch. CAESAR What's this? He mistakes Corky for a man. CAESAR What the fuck is this? Violet stands as Caesar barrels toward the couch. VIOLET I didn't expect -- CAESAR What the fuck is going on? Corky stands and turns, Caesar suddenly realizing that she is a woman. CAESAR Oh, shit ... VIOLET Caesar, this is Corky. Corky, Caesar. CAESAR I'm sorry, Christ, I thought ... it's fucking dark in here. He reaches to the wall for the lights. VIOLET She is working for Bianchinni. Caesar extends his hand. CAESAR Oh, right, right. Don mentioned that to me. Hi, welcome to the family. Corky shakes his hand. CAESAR You're helping Rajeev? CORKY No. Rajeev's in India. VIOLET She's doing the work herself. CAESAR No shit. Bianchinni hired you? You know he's a good friend of mine. |Family, really. CORKY That's what Violet said. He looks at her as if he knows something. CAESAR So, you just got out? VIOLET Jesus, Caesar! CAESAR What? It ain't no big fuckin' deal. I know who Don hires. Did you know he did time himself? Corky shakes her head. CAESAR Thirteen fucking years. See, there ain't no secrets here. Corky doesn't like this man. CAESAR How many'd you do? CORKY Five. He whistles. CAESAR Not bad. What for? VIOLET That's none of your goddamn business, Caesar. CAESAR You're right. You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to. I just hope you understand you're among good people here. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a thick fold of money and peels several hundreds. Corky stares at it. CAESAR Come on, come on. if you understand what I'm talking about you're going to take the money. if you don't, I'm going to have to worry about you. Corky takes it. Caesar smiles. CAESAR Good. I hate to worry. I got ulcers. CORKY I should be going. CAESAR What? How about a drink? CORKY My brushes, I have to clean my brushes. Thanks, though. CAESAR Another time. CORKY Sure. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - NIGHT Close on the paintbrush, Corky's fingers pushing through and separating the black bristles under the running water. When the brush is clean, she flicks it dry and resets the edge. She goes to the sink to wash her hands when she stops, noticing her left hand. It is the hand that was between Violet's legs. She is about to smell her finger when she sees herself in the mirror. CORKY What are you doing? She drops her hand. CORKY What am I doing? I'm fucking up, that's what I'm doing. She scrubs her hands clean. EXT. PARKING LOT - NIGHT It is late, the area burnished with amber street light. Corky walks from the building to her truck. She climbs inside and slides the key into the ignition, when suddenly the passenger door opens and -- Violet gets in. Stunned, Corky stares at her. VIOLET I had to see you. CORKY Look, I don't think this is a good idea. VIOLET I wanted to apologize. CORKY Don't apologize, please. I can't stand women who apologize for wanting sex. Violet smiles. VIOLET I'm not apologizing for what I did -- She slides across the seat. VIOLET I'm apologizing for what I didn't do. She kisses Corky, and if Corky is trying to resist, we can't tell. The windshield is beginning to steam when Violet, panting, breaks the kiss. VIOLET Do you have a bed somewhere? Unable to speak, Corky reaches over and starts the engine. INT. CORKY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT The sex. There is nothing flower-scented or out-of-focus about it. It is sweaty, slippery, body-grinding, bed-squeaking lesbian sex -- Pungent and potent -- And when it is over, neither woman can move. Finally, Corky's eyes flutter open. CORKY I can see again. Violet smiles. Slowly, Corky gets up and goes to the fridge. She grabs a beer and presses it to her sweating forebead. After a moment, she lowers it, gently pressing the cold can elsewhere. Eyes closed, she lets out a long "Ahh." Violet hears the sizzle-pop of the beer as Corky returns to the bed. She holds the beer to Violet's lips and tilts the can, watching Violet's throat as she drinks. Violet's eyes open. VIOLET ... I needed that. CORKY Tell me about it. Corky hands her the beer as Violet sits up a bit. CORKY Caesar's Mafia, isn't he? VIOLET You have to ask? CORKY No. VIOLET Funny, nobody calls it that anymore. Caesar calls it "The |Business." CORKY How did you meet him? VIOLET They took over a club I was working at. Caesar started managing it. CORKY He's a launderer? VIOLET Basically. CORKY How long have you been with him? VIOLET Almost five years. CORKY Five years is a long time. VIOLET Yes, it is. Corky stares at her beer. She knows what Violet is thinking. CORKY The redistribution of wealth. VIOLET What? CORKY Isn't that what you wanted to know? What I did time for? VIOLET The redistribution of wealth? CORKY That's what I tell someone when I'm trying to get them in my bed. VIOLET I'm already in your bed. CORKY My cellmate would say she did her time for getting caught. She was always more honest than me. Corky sips her beer. CORKY I started stealing when I was little. We were piss-poor, which is not an excuse, just a fact. It isn't like her to talk about this, especially with someone she just met. CORKY The first time I remember so vividly. A bunch of us kids were at Waxman's Drugstore, when Mr. Waxman, who was a mean old prick, always worrying about us robbing him, dropped a roll of quarters. We can almost hear the coins tinkling on the tile floor. CORKY I can still hear that sound, those quarters, because right then something clicked inside of me. Some instinct took over and as everyone, including Waxman, dove down, I reached up and emptied the cash register. Violet smiles. She likes this woman. CORKY I gave most of the money to my mom. I told her I found it at the trainyard. She was so happy she cried, calling me her lucky charm. Fifteen years later, I guess my luck ran out. Sbe swallows that with beer. CORKY Sometimes I tell myself that I didn't have a choice, that stealing was surviving. Usually I can admit that's bullshit. I did it because it was a way out. It was easy and I was good at it, real good. She glances at Violet. CORKY I don't usually talk this much. I guess I have been rehabilitated. Violet laughs. VIOLET You didn't have to tell me if you didn't want to. CORKY I guess I wanted to. VIOLET I'm glad you did. CORKY So am I. EXT. PARKING LOT DAY Corky gets out of her truck carrying her tools. Grinning like someone who has been well-laid, she whistles off to work. EXT. LOBBY - DAY Between the main doors she sees a man. His name is SHELLY and he is an overdressed accountant. He is very nervous, talking to someone through the intercom. SHELLY I know he's gone. Please. I have to talk to you. Fiddling with her keys, Corky recognizes the voice that answers him. VIOLET (V.O.) What do you want, Shelly? Shelly glances over his shoulder at Corky, answering in a hushed voice. SHELLY I have to leave. Tonight. For a moment the intercom is silent. Then the door buzzes and Shelly pushes inside. Corky follows him to the elevator. INT. ELEVATOR - DAY Corky glares at Shelly and begins pumping the trigger of her circular saw. Shelly hides behind his sunglasses, watching the elevator numbers go up. The doors open and he scurries out. INT. HALL - DAY She watches him enter Caesar's apartment, her smile now completely gone. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - DAY It is later. Through the wall we listen to the same sound as before of two people making love. We drop down and find Corky's brush, still wet with paint, abandoned in her tray. INT. BEDROOM - DAY Her face glistening with sweat, Violet climaxes, letting the orgasm spread through her like melting butter. VIOLET I had this image of you, inside of me ... She flattens her palms against the soft cradle of her pelvis. VIOLET Like a part of me ... As she opens her eyes, we see that her lover is Corky. Violet watches as she gets off the bed and begins to get dressed. VIOLET You are so beautiful. Corky does not answer as she yanks her pants on. Violet sits up. She can feel that something is wrong. VIOLET What's wrong? CORKY Nothing. Violet pulls the sheet around her. VIOLET Yes there is. I felt it this morning when I brought you the coffee. CORKY Shit, here we go. VIOLET You didn't want to see me, did you? CORKY If there is one thing I can't stand about sleeping with women, it's all the fucking mind reading. VIOLET What are you afraid of? CORKY I'm not afraid of anything. VIOLET I don't understand - ? CORKY I know! You can't understand, because we're different, Violet. We're different. VIOLET We're not that different, Corky. CORKY How can you sit in that bed and say that? VIOLET Because it's the truth. CORKY Let me guess. This is where you tell me that what matters is on the inside. That inside you, there is a little dyke just like me? VIOLET Oh no, she's nothing like you. She's a lot smarter than you. CORKY Is that what her daddy tells her? VIOLET I know what I am. I don't need to have it tattooed on my shoulder. CORKY What are you saying? That you don't have sex with men? VIOLET I don't. CORKY For Christ's sake, Violet! I heard you! Thin walls, remember? VIOLET What you heard wasn't sex. CORKY What the fuck was it? VIOLET All my life, everyone has been telling me that when I have sex, I'm not really having sex. Not real sex. But they're wrong. I know what is and isn't sex and what you heard was definitely not sex. CORKY What was it then? VIOLET Work. That knocks Corky back. VIOLET You made certain choices in your life that you paid for. You said you made them because you were good at something and it was easy. Do you think you're the only one that's good at something? Violet stare pins Corky to the wall. VIOLET We make our own choices and we pay our own prices. I think we're more alike than you want to admit. CORKY What about that guy this morning? VIOLET You mean Shelly? CORKY Don't tell me, you're a workaholic. VIOLET No. Shelly knows what I am. He saw me in a bar with another woman. CORKY I suppose he just wants to watch. That's all Violet can take. VIOLET Fuck it! I think you better leave. CORKY I think so, too. Violet turns away. VIOLET Try not to steal anything on the way out. That stings but Corky walks out without looking back. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - NIGHT It is dark now. Corky is standing above the paint tray that has skinned over. She picks up the brush. It is dry with paint. CORKY Shit. She throws the brush across the room. EXT. CAESAR'S APARTMENT BUILDING - DAY A green-and-white street sign juts in the foreground of Caesar's upscale apartment building. The sign reads: "FRANKLIN STREET." EXT. PARKING LOT - DAY The rusty Chevy glides to a stop in a parking space near the service entrance. In its payload is a boxed bathroom vanity and sink. Corky climbs out of the cab and into the back, unhooking the bungee cords that hold down the boxes. She looks up as a black Lincoln Town Car screeches into a spot not far from her truck. THREE SERIOUS-LOOKING MEN get out, leading a fourth, Shelly. He is the only one who seems to notice Corky. They enter the building, the door closing behind them. INT. BATHROOM - DAY Corky's legs jut out from the old wicker vanity as she finishes detaching its anchors and pipe work. She stands, giving it a yank and pulling it away from the wall, when voices begin to filter in from the next-door apartment. She listens - a rising string of warbling sobs drowned out by an angry voice. ANGRY VOICE Shut the fuck up! You piece of shit! We hear a scream. ANGRY VOICE You're going to tell us! You're going to fuckin' tell us! just a matter of fuckin' time! Each sentence is punctuated with grunts and thuds. ANGRY VOICE Where is it? Where the fuck is it?! We begin to close in on Corky as she listens to each thud, watching something that disturbs her. ANGRY VOICE You shit! You piece of shit! With each thud the water in the toilet shimmers like a struck cymbal. As we move closer, the sound swells until -- MATCH CUT TO: INT. CAESAR'S BATHROOM DAY Where blood splatters the toilet, heavy drops hitting the water and spreading like inverted mushroom clouds. ANGRY VOICE Did that hurt? News flash, fucko: I'm just getting started. The angry voice belongs to JOHNNIE MARZZONE. Shelly is kneeling in front of the toilet, hands tied behind his back with electrical wire. Johnnie Marzzone is a flashy young man in Armani slacks, silk shirt and silver-tipped cowboy boots. His tie is tucked in, as if torture were a fine-dining experience. Caesar and two other men are crammed in the small bathroom. JOHNNIE You got nerve trying to fuck us! Nobody fucks me! Nobody fucks my father! Nobody! Nobody! Shelly screams as Jobnnie repeatedly rams his face into the toilet. CAESAR Whoa, whoa. Come on, he's making too much noise.

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Bound Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS BOUND Written by Larry & Andy Wachowski FADE IN: Inside a closet. It is a large closet with double doors, a crisp line of light cutting down through the center of the darkness. As we begin to descend, voices echo in our head. VIOLET (V.O.) I had this image of you, inside of me, like a part of me. We move past a shelf filled with hatboxes and handbags. It is a woman's closet. CORKY (V.O.) You planned this whole thing, didn't you? CAESAR (V.O.) Where's the fucking money? We glide over the tightly packed hangers, close enough to feel the different fabrics and descend past the dresses to the racks of high heels. VIOLET (V.O.) We make our own choices, we pay our own prices. CAESAR (V.O.) All part of the business. VIOLET (V.O.) All part of the business. CORKY (V.O.) What choice? We slide along the delicate taper of a stiletto heel and reach the bottom of the closet, where we find a pair of black Dr. Martens boots that are tied together with a white rope. VIOLET (V.O.) I want out. We move up the boots and we see it is a woman who is bound, lying motionless on the floor of the closet, the rope coiling tightly around her wrists. The crack at the bottom of the door lights her face. She is gagged and unconscious, a trickle of blood running down her forehead. Her name is CORKY. VIOLET (V.O.) Like a part of me. CUT TO: INT. ELEVATOR - DAY Leaning against the back of the elevator is Corky, a very butch-looking woman with short hair and a black leather jacket. She is a lesbian and wants people to know it. As the doors begin to slide shut, a woman yells. WOMAN Wait! Hold the elevator. Corky pushes the "open" button. A couple steps into the elevator. His name is CAESAR, a middle-aged Italian, wearing an expensive suit and sunglasses. She is VIOLET; a piece of sexual candy that would melt in your mouth. She hears it again, a guttural sound. CORKY Thanks again for this opportunity, Mr. Bianchinni. Goodbye. She hangs up the phone and walks toward the wall. As she gets closer, we hear a bed rocking, tapping against the wall. The man's breathing grows more and more labored until finally it swells -- DISSOLVING INTO: INT. BATHROOM - MORNING The whining motor of a high-powered drain-rod. The spiral cable whips wildly, spiraling deeper into the tub drain, black goo splattering everywhere. The machine is so loud Corky almost cannot hear someone pounding on the apartment door. Killing the motor, she stands and goes to the door. Behind the door is Violet, wearing jeans, a white T-shirt and cowboy boots. VIOLET Hi. My name is Violet. We sort of met in the elevator -- CORKY Yeah, sure. I'm Corky. VIOLET I heard you working in here and I just wondered if you'd like a cup of coffee? She is holding two cups of coffee: one black, one with cream. CORKY Sure. Come on in. Give me a minute. Violet steps inside as Corky goes back to the bathroom to wash off the drain dreck. VIOLET What happened to Rajeev? Corky calls from the bathroom, scrubbing her hands vigorously. CORKY Who? VIOLET Rajeev, the man who usually works on the building. CORKY Oh, he went home to India, but as far as I know he'll be back. She wipes her hands on her overalls, returning to the main room. VIOLET So this is temporary for you? CORKY Pretty much. One day at a time. Violet hands her the cup of black coffee. VIOLET I guessed you were straight black. CORKY Good guess. They both sip from the piping hot mugs. CORKY Mmmm ... thanks, I needed this. VIOLET My pleasure ... but to be honest, I did have a slightly ulterior motive here. I was wondering if I could ask a small favor? CORKY A favor? VIOLET Yeah, see, I'm kind of a night person, so I was wondering if it wasn't a terrible inconvenience if you could wait a bit before using power tools. CORKY Oh, I'm sorry -- VIOLET No, it isn't your fault. The walls here are just so thin. CORKY Are they really? VIOLET Yes, it really causes problems. Sometimes it's like you're in the same room. But if it's too much trouble, I understand ... CORKY No, no trouble. There's other work to do. VIOLET You're doing everything yourself? CORKY Yeah. VIOLET That is so amazing. I'm in awe of people who can fix things. My dad was like that. We never had anything new. Whenever something broke he would open it up, tinker with it and it would work. His hands were magic. She looks at Corky's hands cupped around the mug. VIOLET Yeah ... I bet your car is twenty years old. Corky smiles. CORKY Truck. VIOLET Truck. Of course. CORKY '63 Chevy. VIOLET I knew it. VIOLET SIPS VIOLET So, how do you know the owner, Mr. Bianchinni? CORKY I don't, really. I was referred to him. VIOLET Oh, really. Corky suddenly feels she has revealed something. CORKY Do you know him? VIOLET No, but Caesar does. He likes him. Says he's a good Italian. CORKY Caesar is your husband? VIOLET Oh no, no. I'm not the marrying kind. Smiling, she says nothing else. VIOLET I should be going. You can drop the cup off anytime. CORKY Thanks. VIOLET My pleasure. CORKY watches her leave. EXT. THE WATERING HOLE - NIGHT A dirty bar hidden away on a dark street, its cracked, moon- white sign the only evidence it exists. Corky's truck swings into a space in front of a couple of large motorcycles. She flips her collar and heads for the door. INT. THE WATERING HOLE - NIGHT The smell of leather and cigarette smoke fills Corky's nose as she crosses to the bar. BARTENDER Well, well ... Corky sits as the fat bartender waddles over. BARTENDER Been awhile, Cork. CORKY Five years, two months, sixteen days. How you doing, Sue? Corky puts a cigarette in her mouth and lights it. SUE Like shit. Now that we're all caught up, how about a drink? Sue opens the refrigerator and pulls out two Old Styles. CORKY Thanks. They click the bottles together and drink. SUE You got a job yet? CORKY Yeah. Some plumbing, painting and shit. Sue laughs. SUE I mean a J-O-B. A real job. CORKY Not for me, Sue. I'm straight and narrow. I'm just here to get laid or drunk and hopefully both. Corky gets off the stool. CORKY Thanks for the beer. Looking around, she sees a woman alone at one of the back tables. Through the smoky din, she bears a slight resemblance to Violet. The woman is dressed all in black, including a leather jacket. Smiling, Corky slides into the chair beside her. There is no one smoother. CORKY Hi. WOMAN Hello. CORKY You know ... that outfit would look great on my bedroom floor. The woman smiles just as someone taps Corky on the shoulder. She turns and is face-to-face with a large bull of a woman in a heavy leather Chicago Police jacket. She is more wide than fat. WOMAN COP Hey, Jesse. What's happening here? CORKY Nothing ... yet. WOMAN COP Who's this? Her coat opens as she puts her hands on her hips. A service revolver is clipped to her belt. She squints at Corky, her head nodding in recognition. WOMAN COP Wait, I know you. CORKY I don't think so. WOMAN COP I didn't know you were out. Corky smiles at the woman in black. CORKY When you get tired of Cagney and Lacey, come find me. She heads for the exit. EXT. CITY STREET - NIGHT The neighborhood would be politely described as "rough." Corky's truck does not stand out parked alone on the littered street. INT. CORKY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT It is a hole but it is home. Corky is lying on her futon staring up at the ceiling, a beer resting on her stomach; a folk singer quietly croons from the radio. We see the ceiling, a circle of light hovering over the small desk lamp. We move in on the spot, which slowly fills up the screen until there is nothing but the white light. Suddenly a wet paint roller loaded with white paint cuts a swath across the ceiling. MATCH CUT TO: INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - DAY Corky is painting the ceiling. The folk ballad has become an angry Riot Grrrl anthem. She is working hard, the roller sucking back and forth. Sweat covers her face. Dropping the roller down, she reloads it in the tray when the phone rings. She stops and answers it. CORKY Hello? Oh, hi, Mr. Bianchinni ... yes, everything is going fine. I got the tub drain all cleaned out. She listens for a moment. CORKY What apartment? She glances at the main wall. CORKY All right, all right, I guess I could take a look. Yeah, you're welcome, goodbye. She hangs up and looks again at the wall, feeling... curious. INT. HALL - NIGHT Corky knocks and after a moment Violet opens the door. She seems surprised. VIOLET Oh no. Shit. I didn't know he would call you. God, you must think |I'm a total nuisance. CORKY Not exactly. VIOLET I'm sorry, I usually would call Rajeev, but I didn't know what to do so I called Mr. Bianchinni. CORKY He said you lost something. VIOLET Yeah, come on in. She steps back and Corky walks inside. INT. CAESAR'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Violet leads her through the apartment. It is expensively furnished with very masculine tastes; a lot of gray and black leather. VIOLET I was doing some dishes and just as I pulled the stopper my earring fell in. Corky looks at her blankly. VIOLET It's one of my favorites. That's why I got upset. I know it probably seems ridiculous to you. An eyebrow goes up. VIOLET I'm sorry, look, forget it. I shouldn't have called... CORKY I told Bianchinni I would take a look. Is it that sink? Violet nods. She opens the sink cabinet and pulls out a pair of channel locks from her back pocket. The teeth of the channel locks open and bite onto the pressure nut. CORKY Do you have a pot or a bucket? VIOLET Sure. She hands one down to her. Corky slides it under the curved pipe. As she works, Corky feels herself staring at Violet, at the hem of her dress curving tightly around her thighs. Water begins to trickle into the pan. The nut slides loose and Corky tips the trap. Water splashes into the pan with a soft metal "tink." VIOLET Did you find it? Corky fishes into gray water and pulls out the earring. Violet screams, a huge smile on her face, half-falling as she tries to hug Corky. VIOLET I can't believe it! You did it! Corky leans back under and replaces the trap. VIOLET Thank you so much. You have to let me pay you something -- CORKY No. Mr. Bianchinni asked me to do it. I did it. Corky checks the drain by running the water. VIOLET If you won't take money, how about a drink? It's getting late. You can't work all night. Corky eyes her for a moment. CORKY Okay, one drink. VIOLET What do you want? CORKY A beer? VIOLET A beer. Of course. She smiles and turns to the bar. VIOLET Sit down. Corky sits on the black leather couch and Violet returns with two bottles of Heineken. Corky sneers. VIOLET Thanks again. They clink the bottles and swig. VIOLET You seem uncomfortable. Do I make you nervous, Corky? CORKY No. She looks at Violet, then takes another long pull on the bottle. VIOLET Thirsty, maybe. Violet smiles, her eyes again talking for her. CORKY Curious, maybe. VIOLET Curious? That's funny, I'm feeling a bit curious myself right now. Violet notices the tattoo on Corky's arm. VIOLET That's a great tattoo. She reaches over and touches it. VIOLET Beautiful labrys. Corky is a bit suprised that she knows what it is. She nods, rubbing it as if trying to hide it. VIOLET Are you surprised that I know what it is? CORKY Maybe. VIOLET I have a tattoo, would you like to see it? She moves closer, sliding over the leather cushions as she opens the front of her dress. VIOLET A woman in upstate New York did it for me. She is not wearing a bra. VIOLET Here. Do you like it? Set against the soft white skin of her breast is a bright green-stemmed violet. VIOLET It took her all day to do it. She promised me it wouldn't hurt, but it was sore for a long time after. I couldn't even touch it. Corky looks up from Violet's breast to her dark eyes. VIOLET But now I love the way it feels. She runs her fingers softly over the slightly scarred skin. VIOLET Here, touch it. Corky feels the blood pounding in her ears as Violet takes her hand and places it on her breast. CORKY What are you doing? Violet looks at her. VIOLET Isn't it obvious? I'm trying to seduce you. CORKY Why? VIOLET Because I want to. I've wanted to since I first saw you in the elevator. Corky watches her, trying to figure her out even as her thumb presses into Violet's nipple. Inhaling sharply, Violet closes her eyes; she can feel Corky staring at her. VIOLET You don't believe me. But I can prove it to you. She takes Corky's wrist and begins pulling her hand down her body. VIOLET You can't believe me because of what you see ... She forces Corky's hand between her legs, up under her dress. VIOLET But you can believe what you feel. Violet opens her eyes, a wanton smile on her lips. VIOLET You see ... I've been thinking about you all day. Corky's forearm flexes and Violet moans. With both hands, Violet takes hold of Corky's forearm. CORKY You planned this whole thing? Violet's head swims; she is unable to breathe. CORKY You dropped that earring down the drain on purpose, didn't you? VIOLET If I say yes, will you take your hand away? CORKY No. VIOLET ... yes. Now it is Corky who smiles. Violet shivers, her thighs rubbing, her hips thrusting against Corky's hand. VIOLET Please, Corky ... please ... Her eyes barely open. VIOLET ... kiss me. In a single motion, Corky takes hold of the back of her neck and covers Violet's open mouth with her own. With her hand still stuffed between Violet's legs, Corky lays her back onto the couch as the kiss becomes more -- More desperate, more hungry until -- We hear the front door unlock and open. CAESAR Violet? Violet's eyes pop open and she pushes Corky back. CAESAR Violet, you home? They scramble to compose themselves. VIOLET Yeah. In here, C. He comes around the corner and in the dim light sees the two figures sitting close on the couch. CAESAR What's this? He mistakes Corky for a man. CAESAR What the fuck is this? Violet stands as Caesar barrels toward the couch. VIOLET I didn't expect -- CAESAR What the fuck is going on? Corky stands and turns, Caesar suddenly realizing that she is a woman. CAESAR Oh, shit ... VIOLET Caesar, this is Corky. Corky, Caesar. CAESAR I'm sorry, Christ, I thought ... it's fucking dark in here. He reaches to the wall for the lights. VIOLET She is working for Bianchinni. Caesar extends his hand. CAESAR Oh, right, right. Don mentioned that to me. Hi, welcome to the family. Corky shakes his hand. CAESAR You're helping Rajeev? CORKY No. Rajeev's in India. VIOLET She's doing the work herself. CAESAR No shit. Bianchinni hired you? You know he's a good friend of mine. |Family, really. CORKY That's what Violet said. He looks at her as if he knows something. CAESAR So, you just got out? VIOLET Jesus, Caesar! CAESAR What? It ain't no big fuckin' deal. I know who Don hires. Did you know he did time himself? Corky shakes her head. CAESAR Thirteen fucking years. See, there ain't no secrets here. Corky doesn't like this man. CAESAR How many'd you do? CORKY Five. He whistles. CAESAR Not bad. What for? VIOLET That's none of your goddamn business, Caesar. CAESAR You're right. You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to. I just hope you understand you're among good people here. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a thick fold of money and peels several hundreds. Corky stares at it. CAESAR Come on, come on. if you understand what I'm talking about you're going to take the money. if you don't, I'm going to have to worry about you. Corky takes it. Caesar smiles. CAESAR Good. I hate to worry. I got ulcers. CORKY I should be going. CAESAR What? How about a drink? CORKY My brushes, I have to clean my brushes. Thanks, though. CAESAR Another time. CORKY Sure. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - NIGHT Close on the paintbrush, Corky's fingers pushing through and separating the black bristles under the running water. When the brush is clean, she flicks it dry and resets the edge. She goes to the sink to wash her hands when she stops, noticing her left hand. It is the hand that was between Violet's legs. She is about to smell her finger when she sees herself in the mirror. CORKY What are you doing? She drops her hand. CORKY What am I doing? I'm fucking up, that's what I'm doing. She scrubs her hands clean. EXT. PARKING LOT - NIGHT It is late, the area burnished with amber street light. Corky walks from the building to her truck. She climbs inside and slides the key into the ignition, when suddenly the passenger door opens and -- Violet gets in. Stunned, Corky stares at her. VIOLET I had to see you. CORKY Look, I don't think this is a good idea. VIOLET I wanted to apologize. CORKY Don't apologize, please. I can't stand women who apologize for wanting sex. Violet smiles. VIOLET I'm not apologizing for what I did -- She slides across the seat. VIOLET I'm apologizing for what I didn't do. She kisses Corky, and if Corky is trying to resist, we can't tell. The windshield is beginning to steam when Violet, panting, breaks the kiss. VIOLET Do you have a bed somewhere? Unable to speak, Corky reaches over and starts the engine. INT. CORKY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT The sex. There is nothing flower-scented or out-of-focus about it. It is sweaty, slippery, body-grinding, bed-squeaking lesbian sex -- Pungent and potent -- And when it is over, neither woman can move. Finally, Corky's eyes flutter open. CORKY I can see again. Violet smiles. Slowly, Corky gets up and goes to the fridge. She grabs a beer and presses it to her sweating forebead. After a moment, she lowers it, gently pressing the cold can elsewhere. Eyes closed, she lets out a long "Ahh." Violet hears the sizzle-pop of the beer as Corky returns to the bed. She holds the beer to Violet's lips and tilts the can, watching Violet's throat as she drinks. Violet's eyes open. VIOLET ... I needed that. CORKY Tell me about it. Corky hands her the beer as Violet sits up a bit. CORKY Caesar's Mafia, isn't he? VIOLET You have to ask? CORKY No. VIOLET Funny, nobody calls it that anymore. Caesar calls it "The |Business." CORKY How did you meet him? VIOLET They took over a club I was working at. Caesar started managing it. CORKY He's a launderer? VIOLET Basically. CORKY How long have you been with him? VIOLET Almost five years. CORKY Five years is a long time. VIOLET Yes, it is. Corky stares at her beer. She knows what Violet is thinking. CORKY The redistribution of wealth. VIOLET What? CORKY Isn't that what you wanted to know? What I did time for? VIOLET The redistribution of wealth? CORKY That's what I tell someone when I'm trying to get them in my bed. VIOLET I'm already in your bed. CORKY My cellmate would say she did her time for getting caught. She was always more honest than me. Corky sips her beer. CORKY I started stealing when I was little. We were piss-poor, which is not an excuse, just a fact. It isn't like her to talk about this, especially with someone she just met. CORKY The first time I remember so vividly. A bunch of us kids were at Waxman's Drugstore, when Mr. Waxman, who was a mean old prick, always worrying about us robbing him, dropped a roll of quarters. We can almost hear the coins tinkling on the tile floor. CORKY I can still hear that sound, those quarters, because right then something clicked inside of me. Some instinct took over and as everyone, including Waxman, dove down, I reached up and emptied the cash register. Violet smiles. She likes this woman. CORKY I gave most of the money to my mom. I told her I found it at the trainyard. She was so happy she cried, calling me her lucky charm. Fifteen years later, I guess my luck ran out. Sbe swallows that with beer. CORKY Sometimes I tell myself that I didn't have a choice, that stealing was surviving. Usually I can admit that's bullshit. I did it because it was a way out. It was easy and I was good at it, real good. She glances at Violet. CORKY I don't usually talk this much. I guess I have been rehabilitated. Violet laughs. VIOLET You didn't have to tell me if you didn't want to. CORKY I guess I wanted to. VIOLET I'm glad you did. CORKY So am I. EXT. PARKING LOT DAY Corky gets out of her truck carrying her tools. Grinning like someone who has been well-laid, she whistles off to work. EXT. LOBBY - DAY Between the main doors she sees a man. His name is SHELLY and he is an overdressed accountant. He is very nervous, talking to someone through the intercom. SHELLY I know he's gone. Please. I have to talk to you. Fiddling with her keys, Corky recognizes the voice that answers him. VIOLET (V.O.) What do you want, Shelly? Shelly glances over his shoulder at Corky, answering in a hushed voice. SHELLY I have to leave. Tonight. For a moment the intercom is silent. Then the door buzzes and Shelly pushes inside. Corky follows him to the elevator. INT. ELEVATOR - DAY Corky glares at Shelly and begins pumping the trigger of her circular saw. Shelly hides behind his sunglasses, watching the elevator numbers go up. The doors open and he scurries out. INT. HALL - DAY She watches him enter Caesar's apartment, her smile now completely gone. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - DAY It is later. Through the wall we listen to the same sound as before of two people making love. We drop down and find Corky's brush, still wet with paint, abandoned in her tray. INT. BEDROOM - DAY Her face glistening with sweat, Violet climaxes, letting the orgasm spread through her like melting butter. VIOLET I had this image of you, inside of me ... She flattens her palms against the soft cradle of her pelvis. VIOLET Like a part of me ... As she opens her eyes, we see that her lover is Corky. Violet watches as she gets off the bed and begins to get dressed. VIOLET You are so beautiful. Corky does not answer as she yanks her pants on. Violet sits up. She can feel that something is wrong. VIOLET What's wrong? CORKY Nothing. Violet pulls the sheet around her. VIOLET Yes there is. I felt it this morning when I brought you the coffee. CORKY Shit, here we go. VIOLET You didn't want to see me, did you? CORKY If there is one thing I can't stand about sleeping with women, it's all the fucking mind reading. VIOLET What are you afraid of? CORKY I'm not afraid of anything. VIOLET I don't understand - ? CORKY I know! You can't understand, because we're different, Violet. We're different. VIOLET We're not that different, Corky. CORKY How can you sit in that bed and say that? VIOLET Because it's the truth. CORKY Let me guess. This is where you tell me that what matters is on the inside. That inside you, there is a little dyke just like me? VIOLET Oh no, she's nothing like you. She's a lot smarter than you. CORKY Is that what her daddy tells her? VIOLET I know what I am. I don't need to have it tattooed on my shoulder. CORKY What are you saying? That you don't have sex with men? VIOLET I don't. CORKY For Christ's sake, Violet! I heard you! Thin walls, remember? VIOLET What you heard wasn't sex. CORKY What the fuck was it? VIOLET All my life, everyone has been telling me that when I have sex, I'm not really having sex. Not real sex. But they're wrong. I know what is and isn't sex and what you heard was definitely not sex. CORKY What was it then? VIOLET Work. That knocks Corky back. VIOLET You made certain choices in your life that you paid for. You said you made them because you were good at something and it was easy. Do you think you're the only one that's good at something? Violet stare pins Corky to the wall. VIOLET We make our own choices and we pay our own prices. I think we're more alike than you want to admit. CORKY What about that guy this morning? VIOLET You mean Shelly? CORKY Don't tell me, you're a workaholic. VIOLET No. Shelly knows what I am. He saw me in a bar with another woman. CORKY I suppose he just wants to watch. That's all Violet can take. VIOLET Fuck it! I think you better leave. CORKY I think so, too. Violet turns away. VIOLET Try not to steal anything on the way out. That stings but Corky walks out without looking back. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - NIGHT It is dark now. Corky is standing above the paint tray that has skinned over. She picks up the brush. It is dry with paint. CORKY Shit. She throws the brush across the room. EXT. CAESAR'S APARTMENT BUILDING - DAY A green-and-white street sign juts in the foreground of Caesar's upscale apartment building. The sign reads: "FRANKLIN STREET." EXT. PARKING LOT - DAY The rusty Chevy glides to a stop in a parking space near the service entrance. In its payload is a boxed bathroom vanity and sink. Corky climbs out of the cab and into the back, unhooking the bungee cords that hold down the boxes. She looks up as a black Lincoln Town Car screeches into a spot not far from her truck. THREE SERIOUS-LOOKING MEN get out, leading a fourth, Shelly. He is the only one who seems to notice Corky. They enter the building, the door closing behind them. INT. BATHROOM - DAY Corky's legs jut out from the old wicker vanity as she finishes detaching its anchors and pipe work. She stands, giving it a yank and pulling it away from the wall, when voices begin to filter in from the next-door apartment. She listens - a rising string of warbling sobs drowned out by an angry voice. ANGRY VOICE Shut the fuck up! You piece of shit! We hear a scream. ANGRY VOICE You're going to tell us! You're going to fuckin' tell us! just a matter of fuckin' time! Each sentence is punctuated with grunts and thuds. ANGRY VOICE Where is it? Where the fuck is it?! We begin to close in on Corky as she listens to each thud, watching something that disturbs her. ANGRY VOICE You shit! You piece of shit! With each thud the water in the toilet shimmers like a struck cymbal. As we move closer, the sound swells until -- MATCH CUT TO: INT. CAESAR'S BATHROOM DAY Where blood splatters the toilet, heavy drops hitting the water and spreading like inverted mushroom clouds. ANGRY VOICE Did that hurt? News flash, fucko: I'm just getting started. The angry voice belongs to JOHNNIE MARZZONE. Shelly is kneeling in front of the toilet, hands tied behind his back with electrical wire. Johnnie Marzzone is a flashy young man in Armani slacks, silk shirt and silver-tipped cowboy boots. His tie is tucked in, as if torture were a fine-dining experience. Caesar and two other men are crammed in the small bathroom. JOHNNIE You got nerve trying to fuck us! Nobody fucks me! Nobody fucks my father! Nobody! Nobody! Shelly screams as Jobnnie repeatedly rams his face into the toilet. CAESAR Whoa, whoa. Come on, he's making too much noise.

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Bound Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS BOUND Written by Larry & Andy Wachowski FADE IN: Inside a closet. It is a large closet with double doors, a crisp line of light cutting down through the center of the darkness. As we begin to descend, voices echo in our head. VIOLET (V.O.) I had this image of you, inside of me, like a part of me. We move past a shelf filled with hatboxes and handbags. It is a woman's closet. CORKY (V.O.) You planned this whole thing, didn't you? CAESAR (V.O.) Where's the fucking money? We glide over the tightly packed hangers, close enough to feel the different fabrics and descend past the dresses to the racks of high heels. VIOLET (V.O.) We make our own choices, we pay our own prices. CAESAR (V.O.) All part of the business. VIOLET (V.O.) All part of the business. CORKY (V.O.) What choice? We slide along the delicate taper of a stiletto heel and reach the bottom of the closet, where we find a pair of black Dr. Martens boots that are tied together with a white rope. VIOLET (V.O.) I want out. We move up the boots and we see it is a woman who is bound, lying motionless on the floor of the closet, the rope coiling tightly around her wrists. The crack at the bottom of the door lights her face. She is gagged and unconscious, a trickle of blood running down her forehead. Her name is CORKY. VIOLET (V.O.) Like a part of me. CUT TO: INT. ELEVATOR - DAY Leaning against the back of the elevator is Corky, a very butch-looking woman with short hair and a black leather jacket. She is a lesbian and wants people to know it. As the doors begin to slide shut, a woman yells. WOMAN Wait! Hold the elevator. Corky pushes the "open" button. A couple steps into the elevator. His name is CAESAR, a middle-aged Italian, wearing an expensive suit and sunglasses. She is VIOLET; a piece of sexual candy that would melt in your mouth. She hears it again, a guttural sound. CORKY Thanks again for this opportunity, Mr. Bianchinni. Goodbye. She hangs up the phone and walks toward the wall. As she gets closer, we hear a bed rocking, tapping against the wall. The man's breathing grows more and more labored until finally it swells -- DISSOLVING INTO: INT. BATHROOM - MORNING The whining motor of a high-powered drain-rod. The spiral cable whips wildly, spiraling deeper into the tub drain, black goo splattering everywhere. The machine is so loud Corky almost cannot hear someone pounding on the apartment door. Killing the motor, she stands and goes to the door. Behind the door is Violet, wearing jeans, a white T-shirt and cowboy boots. VIOLET Hi. My name is Violet. We sort of met in the elevator -- CORKY Yeah, sure. I'm Corky. VIOLET I heard you working in here and I just wondered if you'd like a cup of coffee? She is holding two cups of coffee: one black, one with cream. CORKY Sure. Come on in. Give me a minute. Violet steps inside as Corky goes back to the bathroom to wash off the drain dreck. VIOLET What happened to Rajeev? Corky calls from the bathroom, scrubbing her hands vigorously. CORKY Who? VIOLET Rajeev, the man who usually works on the building. CORKY Oh, he went home to India, but as far as I know he'll be back. She wipes her hands on her overalls, returning to the main room. VIOLET So this is temporary for you? CORKY Pretty much. One day at a time. Violet hands her the cup of black coffee. VIOLET I guessed you were straight black. CORKY Good guess. They both sip from the piping hot mugs. CORKY Mmmm ... thanks, I needed this. VIOLET My pleasure ... but to be honest, I did have a slightly ulterior motive here. I was wondering if I could ask a small favor? CORKY A favor? VIOLET Yeah, see, I'm kind of a night person, so I was wondering if it wasn't a terrible inconvenience if you could wait a bit before using power tools. CORKY Oh, I'm sorry -- VIOLET No, it isn't your fault. The walls here are just so thin. CORKY Are they really? VIOLET Yes, it really causes problems. Sometimes it's like you're in the same room. But if it's too much trouble, I understand ... CORKY No, no trouble. There's other work to do. VIOLET You're doing everything yourself? CORKY Yeah. VIOLET That is so amazing. I'm in awe of people who can fix things. My dad was like that. We never had anything new. Whenever something broke he would open it up, tinker with it and it would work. His hands were magic. She looks at Corky's hands cupped around the mug. VIOLET Yeah ... I bet your car is twenty years old. Corky smiles. CORKY Truck. VIOLET Truck. Of course. CORKY '63 Chevy. VIOLET I knew it. VIOLET SIPS VIOLET So, how do you know the owner, Mr. Bianchinni? CORKY I don't, really. I was referred to him. VIOLET Oh, really. Corky suddenly feels she has revealed something. CORKY Do you know him? VIOLET No, but Caesar does. He likes him. Says he's a good Italian. CORKY Caesar is your husband? VIOLET Oh no, no. I'm not the marrying kind. Smiling, she says nothing else. VIOLET I should be going. You can drop the cup off anytime. CORKY Thanks. VIOLET My pleasure. CORKY watches her leave. EXT. THE WATERING HOLE - NIGHT A dirty bar hidden away on a dark street, its cracked, moon- white sign the only evidence it exists. Corky's truck swings into a space in front of a couple of large motorcycles. She flips her collar and heads for the door. INT. THE WATERING HOLE - NIGHT The smell of leather and cigarette smoke fills Corky's nose as she crosses to the bar. BARTENDER Well, well ... Corky sits as the fat bartender waddles over. BARTENDER Been awhile, Cork. CORKY Five years, two months, sixteen days. How you doing, Sue? Corky puts a cigarette in her mouth and lights it. SUE Like shit. Now that we're all caught up, how about a drink? Sue opens the refrigerator and pulls out two Old Styles. CORKY Thanks. They click the bottles together and drink. SUE You got a job yet? CORKY Yeah. Some plumbing, painting and shit. Sue laughs. SUE I mean a J-O-B. A real job. CORKY Not for me, Sue. I'm straight and narrow. I'm just here to get laid or drunk and hopefully both. Corky gets off the stool. CORKY Thanks for the beer. Looking around, she sees a woman alone at one of the back tables. Through the smoky din, she bears a slight resemblance to Violet. The woman is dressed all in black, including a leather jacket. Smiling, Corky slides into the chair beside her. There is no one smoother. CORKY Hi. WOMAN Hello. CORKY You know ... that outfit would look great on my bedroom floor. The woman smiles just as someone taps Corky on the shoulder. She turns and is face-to-face with a large bull of a woman in a heavy leather Chicago Police jacket. She is more wide than fat. WOMAN COP Hey, Jesse. What's happening here? CORKY Nothing ... yet. WOMAN COP Who's this? Her coat opens as she puts her hands on her hips. A service revolver is clipped to her belt. She squints at Corky, her head nodding in recognition. WOMAN COP Wait, I know you. CORKY I don't think so. WOMAN COP I didn't know you were out. Corky smiles at the woman in black. CORKY When you get tired of Cagney and Lacey, come find me. She heads for the exit. EXT. CITY STREET - NIGHT The neighborhood would be politely described as "rough." Corky's truck does not stand out parked alone on the littered street. INT. CORKY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT It is a hole but it is home. Corky is lying on her futon staring up at the ceiling, a beer resting on her stomach; a folk singer quietly croons from the radio. We see the ceiling, a circle of light hovering over the small desk lamp. We move in on the spot, which slowly fills up the screen until there is nothing but the white light. Suddenly a wet paint roller loaded with white paint cuts a swath across the ceiling. MATCH CUT TO: INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - DAY Corky is painting the ceiling. The folk ballad has become an angry Riot Grrrl anthem. She is working hard, the roller sucking back and forth. Sweat covers her face. Dropping the roller down, she reloads it in the tray when the phone rings. She stops and answers it. CORKY Hello? Oh, hi, Mr. Bianchinni ... yes, everything is going fine. I got the tub drain all cleaned out. She listens for a moment. CORKY What apartment? She glances at the main wall. CORKY All right, all right, I guess I could take a look. Yeah, you're welcome, goodbye. She hangs up and looks again at the wall, feeling... curious. INT. HALL - NIGHT Corky knocks and after a moment Violet opens the door. She seems surprised. VIOLET Oh no. Shit. I didn't know he would call you. God, you must think |I'm a total nuisance. CORKY Not exactly. VIOLET I'm sorry, I usually would call Rajeev, but I didn't know what to do so I called Mr. Bianchinni. CORKY He said you lost something. VIOLET Yeah, come on in. She steps back and Corky walks inside. INT. CAESAR'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Violet leads her through the apartment. It is expensively furnished with very masculine tastes; a lot of gray and black leather. VIOLET I was doing some dishes and just as I pulled the stopper my earring fell in. Corky looks at her blankly. VIOLET It's one of my favorites. That's why I got upset. I know it probably seems ridiculous to you. An eyebrow goes up. VIOLET I'm sorry, look, forget it. I shouldn't have called... CORKY I told Bianchinni I would take a look. Is it that sink? Violet nods. She opens the sink cabinet and pulls out a pair of channel locks from her back pocket. The teeth of the channel locks open and bite onto the pressure nut. CORKY Do you have a pot or a bucket? VIOLET Sure. She hands one down to her. Corky slides it under the curved pipe. As she works, Corky feels herself staring at Violet, at the hem of her dress curving tightly around her thighs. Water begins to trickle into the pan. The nut slides loose and Corky tips the trap. Water splashes into the pan with a soft metal "tink." VIOLET Did you find it? Corky fishes into gray water and pulls out the earring. Violet screams, a huge smile on her face, half-falling as she tries to hug Corky. VIOLET I can't believe it! You did it! Corky leans back under and replaces the trap. VIOLET Thank you so much. You have to let me pay you something -- CORKY No. Mr. Bianchinni asked me to do it. I did it. Corky checks the drain by running the water. VIOLET If you won't take money, how about a drink? It's getting late. You can't work all night. Corky eyes her for a moment. CORKY Okay, one drink. VIOLET What do you want? CORKY A beer? VIOLET A beer. Of course. She smiles and turns to the bar. VIOLET Sit down. Corky sits on the black leather couch and Violet returns with two bottles of Heineken. Corky sneers. VIOLET Thanks again. They clink the bottles and swig. VIOLET You seem uncomfortable. Do I make you nervous, Corky? CORKY No. She looks at Violet, then takes another long pull on the bottle. VIOLET Thirsty, maybe. Violet smiles, her eyes again talking for her. CORKY Curious, maybe. VIOLET Curious? That's funny, I'm feeling a bit curious myself right now. Violet notices the tattoo on Corky's arm. VIOLET That's a great tattoo. She reaches over and touches it. VIOLET Beautiful labrys. Corky is a bit suprised that she knows what it is. She nods, rubbing it as if trying to hide it. VIOLET Are you surprised that I know what it is? CORKY Maybe. VIOLET I have a tattoo, would you like to see it? She moves closer, sliding over the leather cushions as she opens the front of her dress. VIOLET A woman in upstate New York did it for me. She is not wearing a bra. VIOLET Here. Do you like it? Set against the soft white skin of her breast is a bright green-stemmed violet. VIOLET It took her all day to do it. She promised me it wouldn't hurt, but it was sore for a long time after. I couldn't even touch it. Corky looks up from Violet's breast to her dark eyes. VIOLET But now I love the way it feels. She runs her fingers softly over the slightly scarred skin. VIOLET Here, touch it. Corky feels the blood pounding in her ears as Violet takes her hand and places it on her breast. CORKY What are you doing? Violet looks at her. VIOLET Isn't it obvious? I'm trying to seduce you. CORKY Why? VIOLET Because I want to. I've wanted to since I first saw you in the elevator. Corky watches her, trying to figure her out even as her thumb presses into Violet's nipple. Inhaling sharply, Violet closes her eyes; she can feel Corky staring at her. VIOLET You don't believe me. But I can prove it to you. She takes Corky's wrist and begins pulling her hand down her body. VIOLET You can't believe me because of what you see ... She forces Corky's hand between her legs, up under her dress. VIOLET But you can believe what you feel. Violet opens her eyes, a wanton smile on her lips. VIOLET You see ... I've been thinking about you all day. Corky's forearm flexes and Violet moans. With both hands, Violet takes hold of Corky's forearm. CORKY You planned this whole thing? Violet's head swims; she is unable to breathe. CORKY You dropped that earring down the drain on purpose, didn't you? VIOLET If I say yes, will you take your hand away? CORKY No. VIOLET ... yes. Now it is Corky who smiles. Violet shivers, her thighs rubbing, her hips thrusting against Corky's hand. VIOLET Please, Corky ... please ... Her eyes barely open. VIOLET ... kiss me. In a single motion, Corky takes hold of the back of her neck and covers Violet's open mouth with her own. With her hand still stuffed between Violet's legs, Corky lays her back onto the couch as the kiss becomes more -- More desperate, more hungry until -- We hear the front door unlock and open. CAESAR Violet? Violet's eyes pop open and she pushes Corky back. CAESAR Violet, you home? They scramble to compose themselves. VIOLET Yeah. In here, C. He comes around the corner and in the dim light sees the two figures sitting close on the couch. CAESAR What's this? He mistakes Corky for a man. CAESAR What the fuck is this? Violet stands as Caesar barrels toward the couch. VIOLET I didn't expect -- CAESAR What the fuck is going on? Corky stands and turns, Caesar suddenly realizing that she is a woman. CAESAR Oh, shit ... VIOLET Caesar, this is Corky. Corky, Caesar. CAESAR I'm sorry, Christ, I thought ... it's fucking dark in here. He reaches to the wall for the lights. VIOLET She is working for Bianchinni. Caesar extends his hand. CAESAR Oh, right, right. Don mentioned that to me. Hi, welcome to the family. Corky shakes his hand. CAESAR You're helping Rajeev? CORKY No. Rajeev's in India. VIOLET She's doing the work herself. CAESAR No shit. Bianchinni hired you? You know he's a good friend of mine. |Family, really. CORKY That's what Violet said. He looks at her as if he knows something. CAESAR So, you just got out? VIOLET Jesus, Caesar! CAESAR What? It ain't no big fuckin' deal. I know who Don hires. Did you know he did time himself? Corky shakes her head. CAESAR Thirteen fucking years. See, there ain't no secrets here. Corky doesn't like this man. CAESAR How many'd you do? CORKY Five. He whistles. CAESAR Not bad. What for? VIOLET That's none of your goddamn business, Caesar. CAESAR You're right. You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to. I just hope you understand you're among good people here. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a thick fold of money and peels several hundreds. Corky stares at it. CAESAR Come on, come on. if you understand what I'm talking about you're going to take the money. if you don't, I'm going to have to worry about you. Corky takes it. Caesar smiles. CAESAR Good. I hate to worry. I got ulcers. CORKY I should be going. CAESAR What? How about a drink? CORKY My brushes, I have to clean my brushes. Thanks, though. CAESAR Another time. CORKY Sure. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - NIGHT Close on the paintbrush, Corky's fingers pushing through and separating the black bristles under the running water. When the brush is clean, she flicks it dry and resets the edge. She goes to the sink to wash her hands when she stops, noticing her left hand. It is the hand that was between Violet's legs. She is about to smell her finger when she sees herself in the mirror. CORKY What are you doing? She drops her hand. CORKY What am I doing? I'm fucking up, that's what I'm doing. She scrubs her hands clean. EXT. PARKING LOT - NIGHT It is late, the area burnished with amber street light. Corky walks from the building to her truck. She climbs inside and slides the key into the ignition, when suddenly the passenger door opens and -- Violet gets in. Stunned, Corky stares at her. VIOLET I had to see you. CORKY Look, I don't think this is a good idea. VIOLET I wanted to apologize. CORKY Don't apologize, please. I can't stand women who apologize for wanting sex. Violet smiles. VIOLET I'm not apologizing for what I did -- She slides across the seat. VIOLET I'm apologizing for what I didn't do. She kisses Corky, and if Corky is trying to resist, we can't tell. The windshield is beginning to steam when Violet, panting, breaks the kiss. VIOLET Do you have a bed somewhere? Unable to speak, Corky reaches over and starts the engine. INT. CORKY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT The sex. There is nothing flower-scented or out-of-focus about it. It is sweaty, slippery, body-grinding, bed-squeaking lesbian sex -- Pungent and potent -- And when it is over, neither woman can move. Finally, Corky's eyes flutter open. CORKY I can see again. Violet smiles. Slowly, Corky gets up and goes to the fridge. She grabs a beer and presses it to her sweating forebead. After a moment, she lowers it, gently pressing the cold can elsewhere. Eyes closed, she lets out a long "Ahh." Violet hears the sizzle-pop of the beer as Corky returns to the bed. She holds the beer to Violet's lips and tilts the can, watching Violet's throat as she drinks. Violet's eyes open. VIOLET ... I needed that. CORKY Tell me about it. Corky hands her the beer as Violet sits up a bit. CORKY Caesar's Mafia, isn't he? VIOLET You have to ask? CORKY No. VIOLET Funny, nobody calls it that anymore. Caesar calls it "The |Business." CORKY How did you meet him? VIOLET They took over a club I was working at. Caesar started managing it. CORKY He's a launderer? VIOLET Basically. CORKY How long have you been with him? VIOLET Almost five years. CORKY Five years is a long time. VIOLET Yes, it is. Corky stares at her beer. She knows what Violet is thinking. CORKY The redistribution of wealth. VIOLET What? CORKY Isn't that what you wanted to know? What I did time for? VIOLET The redistribution of wealth? CORKY That's what I tell someone when I'm trying to get them in my bed. VIOLET I'm already in your bed. CORKY My cellmate would say she did her time for getting caught. She was always more honest than me. Corky sips her beer. CORKY I started stealing when I was little. We were piss-poor, which is not an excuse, just a fact. It isn't like her to talk about this, especially with someone she just met. CORKY The first time I remember so vividly. A bunch of us kids were at Waxman's Drugstore, when Mr. Waxman, who was a mean old prick, always worrying about us robbing him, dropped a roll of quarters. We can almost hear the coins tinkling on the tile floor. CORKY I can still hear that sound, those quarters, because right then something clicked inside of me. Some instinct took over and as everyone, including Waxman, dove down, I reached up and emptied the cash register. Violet smiles. She likes this woman. CORKY I gave most of the money to my mom. I told her I found it at the trainyard. She was so happy she cried, calling me her lucky charm. Fifteen years later, I guess my luck ran out. Sbe swallows that with beer. CORKY Sometimes I tell myself that I didn't have a choice, that stealing was surviving. Usually I can admit that's bullshit. I did it because it was a way out. It was easy and I was good at it, real good. She glances at Violet. CORKY I don't usually talk this much. I guess I have been rehabilitated. Violet laughs. VIOLET You didn't have to tell me if you didn't want to. CORKY I guess I wanted to. VIOLET I'm glad you did. CORKY So am I. EXT. PARKING LOT DAY Corky gets out of her truck carrying her tools. Grinning like someone who has been well-laid, she whistles off to work. EXT. LOBBY - DAY Between the main doors she sees a man. His name is SHELLY and he is an overdressed accountant. He is very nervous, talking to someone through the intercom. SHELLY I know he's gone. Please. I have to talk to you. Fiddling with her keys, Corky recognizes the voice that answers him. VIOLET (V.O.) What do you want, Shelly? Shelly glances over his shoulder at Corky, answering in a hushed voice. SHELLY I have to leave. Tonight. For a moment the intercom is silent. Then the door buzzes and Shelly pushes inside. Corky follows him to the elevator. INT. ELEVATOR - DAY Corky glares at Shelly and begins pumping the trigger of her circular saw. Shelly hides behind his sunglasses, watching the elevator numbers go up. The doors open and he scurries out. INT. HALL - DAY She watches him enter Caesar's apartment, her smile now completely gone. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - DAY It is later. Through the wall we listen to the same sound as before of two people making love. We drop down and find Corky's brush, still wet with paint, abandoned in her tray. INT. BEDROOM - DAY Her face glistening with sweat, Violet climaxes, letting the orgasm spread through her like melting butter. VIOLET I had this image of you, inside of me ... She flattens her palms against the soft cradle of her pelvis. VIOLET Like a part of me ... As she opens her eyes, we see that her lover is Corky. Violet watches as she gets off the bed and begins to get dressed. VIOLET You are so beautiful. Corky does not answer as she yanks her pants on. Violet sits up. She can feel that something is wrong. VIOLET What's wrong? CORKY Nothing. Violet pulls the sheet around her. VIOLET Yes there is. I felt it this morning when I brought you the coffee. CORKY Shit, here we go. VIOLET You didn't want to see me, did you? CORKY If there is one thing I can't stand about sleeping with women, it's all the fucking mind reading. VIOLET What are you afraid of? CORKY I'm not afraid of anything. VIOLET I don't understand - ? CORKY I know! You can't understand, because we're different, Violet. We're different. VIOLET We're not that different, Corky. CORKY How can you sit in that bed and say that? VIOLET Because it's the truth. CORKY Let me guess. This is where you tell me that what matters is on the inside. That inside you, there is a little dyke just like me? VIOLET Oh no, she's nothing like you. She's a lot smarter than you. CORKY Is that what her daddy tells her? VIOLET I know what I am. I don't need to have it tattooed on my shoulder. CORKY What are you saying? That you don't have sex with men? VIOLET I don't. CORKY For Christ's sake, Violet! I heard you! Thin walls, remember? VIOLET What you heard wasn't sex. CORKY What the fuck was it? VIOLET All my life, everyone has been telling me that when I have sex, I'm not really having sex. Not real sex. But they're wrong. I know what is and isn't sex and what you heard was definitely not sex. CORKY What was it then? VIOLET Work. That knocks Corky back. VIOLET You made certain choices in your life that you paid for. You said you made them because you were good at something and it was easy. Do you think you're the only one that's good at something? Violet stare pins Corky to the wall. VIOLET We make our own choices and we pay our own prices. I think we're more alike than you want to admit. CORKY What about that guy this morning? VIOLET You mean Shelly? CORKY Don't tell me, you're a workaholic. VIOLET No. Shelly knows what I am. He saw me in a bar with another woman. CORKY I suppose he just wants to watch. That's all Violet can take. VIOLET Fuck it! I think you better leave. CORKY I think so, too. Violet turns away. VIOLET Try not to steal anything on the way out. That stings but Corky walks out without looking back. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - NIGHT It is dark now. Corky is standing above the paint tray that has skinned over. She picks up the brush. It is dry with paint. CORKY Shit. She throws the brush across the room. EXT. CAESAR'S APARTMENT BUILDING - DAY A green-and-white street sign juts in the foreground of Caesar's upscale apartment building. The sign reads: "FRANKLIN STREET." EXT. PARKING LOT - DAY The rusty Chevy glides to a stop in a parking space near the service entrance. In its payload is a boxed bathroom vanity and sink. Corky climbs out of the cab and into the back, unhooking the bungee cords that hold down the boxes. She looks up as a black Lincoln Town Car screeches into a spot not far from her truck. THREE SERIOUS-LOOKING MEN get out, leading a fourth, Shelly. He is the only one who seems to notice Corky. They enter the building, the door closing behind them. INT. BATHROOM - DAY Corky's legs jut out from the old wicker vanity as she finishes detaching its anchors and pipe work. She stands, giving it a yank and pulling it away from the wall, when voices begin to filter in from the next-door apartment. She listens - a rising string of warbling sobs drowned out by an angry voice. ANGRY VOICE Shut the fuck up! You piece of shit! We hear a scream. ANGRY VOICE You're going to tell us! You're going to fuckin' tell us! just a matter of fuckin' time! Each sentence is punctuated with grunts and thuds. ANGRY VOICE Where is it? Where the fuck is it?! We begin to close in on Corky as she listens to each thud, watching something that disturbs her. ANGRY VOICE You shit! You piece of shit! With each thud the water in the toilet shimmers like a struck cymbal. As we move closer, the sound swells until -- MATCH CUT TO: INT. CAESAR'S BATHROOM DAY Where blood splatters the toilet, heavy drops hitting the water and spreading like inverted mushroom clouds. ANGRY VOICE Did that hurt? News flash, fucko: I'm just getting started. The angry voice belongs to JOHNNIE MARZZONE. Shelly is kneeling in front of the toilet, hands tied behind his back with electrical wire. Johnnie Marzzone is a flashy young man in Armani slacks, silk shirt and silver-tipped cowboy boots. His tie is tucked in, as if torture were a fine-dining experience. Caesar and two other men are crammed in the small bathroom. JOHNNIE You got nerve trying to fuck us! Nobody fucks me! Nobody fucks my father! Nobody! Nobody! Shelly screams as Jobnnie repeatedly rams his face into the toilet. CAESAR Whoa, whoa. Come on, he's making too much noise.

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Bound Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS BOUND Written by Larry & Andy Wachowski FADE IN: Inside a closet. It is a large closet with double doors, a crisp line of light cutting down through the center of the darkness. As we begin to descend, voices echo in our head. VIOLET (V.O.) I had this image of you, inside of me, like a part of me. We move past a shelf filled with hatboxes and handbags. It is a woman's closet. CORKY (V.O.) You planned this whole thing, didn't you? CAESAR (V.O.) Where's the fucking money? We glide over the tightly packed hangers, close enough to feel the different fabrics and descend past the dresses to the racks of high heels. VIOLET (V.O.) We make our own choices, we pay our own prices. CAESAR (V.O.) All part of the business. VIOLET (V.O.) All part of the business. CORKY (V.O.) What choice? We slide along the delicate taper of a stiletto heel and reach the bottom of the closet, where we find a pair of black Dr. Martens boots that are tied together with a white rope. VIOLET (V.O.) I want out. We move up the boots and we see it is a woman who is bound, lying motionless on the floor of the closet, the rope coiling tightly around her wrists. The crack at the bottom of the door lights her face. She is gagged and unconscious, a trickle of blood running down her forehead. Her name is CORKY. VIOLET (V.O.) Like a part of me. CUT TO: INT. ELEVATOR - DAY Leaning against the back of the elevator is Corky, a very butch-looking woman with short hair and a black leather jacket. She is a lesbian and wants people to know it. As the doors begin to slide shut, a woman yells. WOMAN Wait! Hold the elevator. Corky pushes the "open" button. A couple steps into the elevator. His name is CAESAR, a middle-aged Italian, wearing an expensive suit and sunglasses. She is VIOLET; a piece of sexual candy that would melt in your mouth. She hears it again, a guttural sound. CORKY Thanks again for this opportunity, Mr. Bianchinni. Goodbye. She hangs up the phone and walks toward the wall. As she gets closer, we hear a bed rocking, tapping against the wall. The man's breathing grows more and more labored until finally it swells -- DISSOLVING INTO: INT. BATHROOM - MORNING The whining motor of a high-powered drain-rod. The spiral cable whips wildly, spiraling deeper into the tub drain, black goo splattering everywhere. The machine is so loud Corky almost cannot hear someone pounding on the apartment door. Killing the motor, she stands and goes to the door. Behind the door is Violet, wearing jeans, a white T-shirt and cowboy boots. VIOLET Hi. My name is Violet. We sort of met in the elevator -- CORKY Yeah, sure. I'm Corky. VIOLET I heard you working in here and I just wondered if you'd like a cup of coffee? She is holding two cups of coffee: one black, one with cream. CORKY Sure. Come on in. Give me a minute. Violet steps inside as Corky goes back to the bathroom to wash off the drain dreck. VIOLET What happened to Rajeev? Corky calls from the bathroom, scrubbing her hands vigorously. CORKY Who? VIOLET Rajeev, the man who usually works on the building. CORKY Oh, he went home to India, but as far as I know he'll be back. She wipes her hands on her overalls, returning to the main room. VIOLET So this is temporary for you? CORKY Pretty much. One day at a time. Violet hands her the cup of black coffee. VIOLET I guessed you were straight black. CORKY Good guess. They both sip from the piping hot mugs. CORKY Mmmm ... thanks, I needed this. VIOLET My pleasure ... but to be honest, I did have a slightly ulterior motive here. I was wondering if I could ask a small favor? CORKY A favor? VIOLET Yeah, see, I'm kind of a night person, so I was wondering if it wasn't a terrible inconvenience if you could wait a bit before using power tools. CORKY Oh, I'm sorry -- VIOLET No, it isn't your fault. The walls here are just so thin. CORKY Are they really? VIOLET Yes, it really causes problems. Sometimes it's like you're in the same room. But if it's too much trouble, I understand ... CORKY No, no trouble. There's other work to do. VIOLET You're doing everything yourself? CORKY Yeah. VIOLET That is so amazing. I'm in awe of people who can fix things. My dad was like that. We never had anything new. Whenever something broke he would open it up, tinker with it and it would work. His hands were magic. She looks at Corky's hands cupped around the mug. VIOLET Yeah ... I bet your car is twenty years old. Corky smiles. CORKY Truck. VIOLET Truck. Of course. CORKY '63 Chevy. VIOLET I knew it. VIOLET SIPS VIOLET So, how do you know the owner, Mr. Bianchinni? CORKY I don't, really. I was referred to him. VIOLET Oh, really. Corky suddenly feels she has revealed something. CORKY Do you know him? VIOLET No, but Caesar does. He likes him. Says he's a good Italian. CORKY Caesar is your husband? VIOLET Oh no, no. I'm not the marrying kind. Smiling, she says nothing else. VIOLET I should be going. You can drop the cup off anytime. CORKY Thanks. VIOLET My pleasure. CORKY watches her leave. EXT. THE WATERING HOLE - NIGHT A dirty bar hidden away on a dark street, its cracked, moon- white sign the only evidence it exists. Corky's truck swings into a space in front of a couple of large motorcycles. She flips her collar and heads for the door. INT. THE WATERING HOLE - NIGHT The smell of leather and cigarette smoke fills Corky's nose as she crosses to the bar. BARTENDER Well, well ... Corky sits as the fat bartender waddles over. BARTENDER Been awhile, Cork. CORKY Five years, two months, sixteen days. How you doing, Sue? Corky puts a cigarette in her mouth and lights it. SUE Like shit. Now that we're all caught up, how about a drink? Sue opens the refrigerator and pulls out two Old Styles. CORKY Thanks. They click the bottles together and drink. SUE You got a job yet? CORKY Yeah. Some plumbing, painting and shit. Sue laughs. SUE I mean a J-O-B. A real job. CORKY Not for me, Sue. I'm straight and narrow. I'm just here to get laid or drunk and hopefully both. Corky gets off the stool. CORKY Thanks for the beer. Looking around, she sees a woman alone at one of the back tables. Through the smoky din, she bears a slight resemblance to Violet. The woman is dressed all in black, including a leather jacket. Smiling, Corky slides into the chair beside her. There is no one smoother. CORKY Hi. WOMAN Hello. CORKY You know ... that outfit would look great on my bedroom floor. The woman smiles just as someone taps Corky on the shoulder. She turns and is face-to-face with a large bull of a woman in a heavy leather Chicago Police jacket. She is more wide than fat. WOMAN COP Hey, Jesse. What's happening here? CORKY Nothing ... yet. WOMAN COP Who's this? Her coat opens as she puts her hands on her hips. A service revolver is clipped to her belt. She squints at Corky, her head nodding in recognition. WOMAN COP Wait, I know you. CORKY I don't think so. WOMAN COP I didn't know you were out. Corky smiles at the woman in black. CORKY When you get tired of Cagney and Lacey, come find me. She heads for the exit. EXT. CITY STREET - NIGHT The neighborhood would be politely described as "rough." Corky's truck does not stand out parked alone on the littered street. INT. CORKY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT It is a hole but it is home. Corky is lying on her futon staring up at the ceiling, a beer resting on her stomach; a folk singer quietly croons from the radio. We see the ceiling, a circle of light hovering over the small desk lamp. We move in on the spot, which slowly fills up the screen until there is nothing but the white light. Suddenly a wet paint roller loaded with white paint cuts a swath across the ceiling. MATCH CUT TO: INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - DAY Corky is painting the ceiling. The folk ballad has become an angry Riot Grrrl anthem. She is working hard, the roller sucking back and forth. Sweat covers her face. Dropping the roller down, she reloads it in the tray when the phone rings. She stops and answers it. CORKY Hello? Oh, hi, Mr. Bianchinni ... yes, everything is going fine. I got the tub drain all cleaned out. She listens for a moment. CORKY What apartment? She glances at the main wall. CORKY All right, all right, I guess I could take a look. Yeah, you're welcome, goodbye. She hangs up and looks again at the wall, feeling... curious. INT. HALL - NIGHT Corky knocks and after a moment Violet opens the door. She seems surprised. VIOLET Oh no. Shit. I didn't know he would call you. God, you must think |I'm a total nuisance. CORKY Not exactly. VIOLET I'm sorry, I usually would call Rajeev, but I didn't know what to do so I called Mr. Bianchinni. CORKY He said you lost something. VIOLET Yeah, come on in. She steps back and Corky walks inside. INT. CAESAR'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Violet leads her through the apartment. It is expensively furnished with very masculine tastes; a lot of gray and black leather. VIOLET I was doing some dishes and just as I pulled the stopper my earring fell in. Corky looks at her blankly. VIOLET It's one of my favorites. That's why I got upset. I know it probably seems ridiculous to you. An eyebrow goes up. VIOLET I'm sorry, look, forget it. I shouldn't have called... CORKY I told Bianchinni I would take a look. Is it that sink? Violet nods. She opens the sink cabinet and pulls out a pair of channel locks from her back pocket. The teeth of the channel locks open and bite onto the pressure nut. CORKY Do you have a pot or a bucket? VIOLET Sure. She hands one down to her. Corky slides it under the curved pipe. As she works, Corky feels herself staring at Violet, at the hem of her dress curving tightly around her thighs. Water begins to trickle into the pan. The nut slides loose and Corky tips the trap. Water splashes into the pan with a soft metal "tink." VIOLET Did you find it? Corky fishes into gray water and pulls out the earring. Violet screams, a huge smile on her face, half-falling as she tries to hug Corky. VIOLET I can't believe it! You did it! Corky leans back under and replaces the trap. VIOLET Thank you so much. You have to let me pay you something -- CORKY No. Mr. Bianchinni asked me to do it. I did it. Corky checks the drain by running the water. VIOLET If you won't take money, how about a drink? It's getting late. You can't work all night. Corky eyes her for a moment. CORKY Okay, one drink. VIOLET What do you want? CORKY A beer? VIOLET A beer. Of course. She smiles and turns to the bar. VIOLET Sit down. Corky sits on the black leather couch and Violet returns with two bottles of Heineken. Corky sneers. VIOLET Thanks again. They clink the bottles and swig. VIOLET You seem uncomfortable. Do I make you nervous, Corky? CORKY No. She looks at Violet, then takes another long pull on the bottle. VIOLET Thirsty, maybe. Violet smiles, her eyes again talking for her. CORKY Curious, maybe. VIOLET Curious? That's funny, I'm feeling a bit curious myself right now. Violet notices the tattoo on Corky's arm. VIOLET That's a great tattoo. She reaches over and touches it. VIOLET Beautiful labrys. Corky is a bit suprised that she knows what it is. She nods, rubbing it as if trying to hide it. VIOLET Are you surprised that I know what it is? CORKY Maybe. VIOLET I have a tattoo, would you like to see it? She moves closer, sliding over the leather cushions as she opens the front of her dress. VIOLET A woman in upstate New York did it for me. She is not wearing a bra. VIOLET Here. Do you like it? Set against the soft white skin of her breast is a bright green-stemmed violet. VIOLET It took her all day to do it. She promised me it wouldn't hurt, but it was sore for a long time after. I couldn't even touch it. Corky looks up from Violet's breast to her dark eyes. VIOLET But now I love the way it feels. She runs her fingers softly over the slightly scarred skin. VIOLET Here, touch it. Corky feels the blood pounding in her ears as Violet takes her hand and places it on her breast. CORKY What are you doing? Violet looks at her. VIOLET Isn't it obvious? I'm trying to seduce you. CORKY Why? VIOLET Because I want to. I've wanted to since I first saw you in the elevator. Corky watches her, trying to figure her out even as her thumb presses into Violet's nipple. Inhaling sharply, Violet closes her eyes; she can feel Corky staring at her. VIOLET You don't believe me. But I can prove it to you. She takes Corky's wrist and begins pulling her hand down her body. VIOLET You can't believe me because of what you see ... She forces Corky's hand between her legs, up under her dress. VIOLET But you can believe what you feel. Violet opens her eyes, a wanton smile on her lips. VIOLET You see ... I've been thinking about you all day. Corky's forearm flexes and Violet moans. With both hands, Violet takes hold of Corky's forearm. CORKY You planned this whole thing? Violet's head swims; she is unable to breathe. CORKY You dropped that earring down the drain on purpose, didn't you? VIOLET If I say yes, will you take your hand away? CORKY No. VIOLET ... yes. Now it is Corky who smiles. Violet shivers, her thighs rubbing, her hips thrusting against Corky's hand. VIOLET Please, Corky ... please ... Her eyes barely open. VIOLET ... kiss me. In a single motion, Corky takes hold of the back of her neck and covers Violet's open mouth with her own. With her hand still stuffed between Violet's legs, Corky lays her back onto the couch as the kiss becomes more -- More desperate, more hungry until -- We hear the front door unlock and open. CAESAR Violet? Violet's eyes pop open and she pushes Corky back. CAESAR Violet, you home? They scramble to compose themselves. VIOLET Yeah. In here, C. He comes around the corner and in the dim light sees the two figures sitting close on the couch. CAESAR What's this? He mistakes Corky for a man. CAESAR What the fuck is this? Violet stands as Caesar barrels toward the couch. VIOLET I didn't expect -- CAESAR What the fuck is going on? Corky stands and turns, Caesar suddenly realizing that she is a woman. CAESAR Oh, shit ... VIOLET Caesar, this is Corky. Corky, Caesar. CAESAR I'm sorry, Christ, I thought ... it's fucking dark in here. He reaches to the wall for the lights. VIOLET She is working for Bianchinni. Caesar extends his hand. CAESAR Oh, right, right. Don mentioned that to me. Hi, welcome to the family. Corky shakes his hand. CAESAR You're helping Rajeev? CORKY No. Rajeev's in India. VIOLET She's doing the work herself. CAESAR No shit. Bianchinni hired you? You know he's a good friend of mine. |Family, really. CORKY That's what Violet said. He looks at her as if he knows something. CAESAR So, you just got out? VIOLET Jesus, Caesar! CAESAR What? It ain't no big fuckin' deal. I know who Don hires. Did you know he did time himself? Corky shakes her head. CAESAR Thirteen fucking years. See, there ain't no secrets here. Corky doesn't like this man. CAESAR How many'd you do? CORKY Five. He whistles. CAESAR Not bad. What for? VIOLET That's none of your goddamn business, Caesar. CAESAR You're right. You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to. I just hope you understand you're among good people here. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a thick fold of money and peels several hundreds. Corky stares at it. CAESAR Come on, come on. if you understand what I'm talking about you're going to take the money. if you don't, I'm going to have to worry about you. Corky takes it. Caesar smiles. CAESAR Good. I hate to worry. I got ulcers. CORKY I should be going. CAESAR What? How about a drink? CORKY My brushes, I have to clean my brushes. Thanks, though. CAESAR Another time. CORKY Sure. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - NIGHT Close on the paintbrush, Corky's fingers pushing through and separating the black bristles under the running water. When the brush is clean, she flicks it dry and resets the edge. She goes to the sink to wash her hands when she stops, noticing her left hand. It is the hand that was between Violet's legs. She is about to smell her finger when she sees herself in the mirror. CORKY What are you doing? She drops her hand. CORKY What am I doing? I'm fucking up, that's what I'm doing. She scrubs her hands clean. EXT. PARKING LOT - NIGHT It is late, the area burnished with amber street light. Corky walks from the building to her truck. She climbs inside and slides the key into the ignition, when suddenly the passenger door opens and -- Violet gets in. Stunned, Corky stares at her. VIOLET I had to see you. CORKY Look, I don't think this is a good idea. VIOLET I wanted to apologize. CORKY Don't apologize, please. I can't stand women who apologize for wanting sex. Violet smiles. VIOLET I'm not apologizing for what I did -- She slides across the seat. VIOLET I'm apologizing for what I didn't do. She kisses Corky, and if Corky is trying to resist, we can't tell. The windshield is beginning to steam when Violet, panting, breaks the kiss. VIOLET Do you have a bed somewhere? Unable to speak, Corky reaches over and starts the engine. INT. CORKY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT The sex. There is nothing flower-scented or out-of-focus about it. It is sweaty, slippery, body-grinding, bed-squeaking lesbian sex -- Pungent and potent -- And when it is over, neither woman can move. Finally, Corky's eyes flutter open. CORKY I can see again. Violet smiles. Slowly, Corky gets up and goes to the fridge. She grabs a beer and presses it to her sweating forebead. After a moment, she lowers it, gently pressing the cold can elsewhere. Eyes closed, she lets out a long "Ahh." Violet hears the sizzle-pop of the beer as Corky returns to the bed. She holds the beer to Violet's lips and tilts the can, watching Violet's throat as she drinks. Violet's eyes open. VIOLET ... I needed that. CORKY Tell me about it. Corky hands her the beer as Violet sits up a bit. CORKY Caesar's Mafia, isn't he? VIOLET You have to ask? CORKY No. VIOLET Funny, nobody calls it that anymore. Caesar calls it "The |Business." CORKY How did you meet him? VIOLET They took over a club I was working at. Caesar started managing it. CORKY He's a launderer? VIOLET Basically. CORKY How long have you been with him? VIOLET Almost five years. CORKY Five years is a long time. VIOLET Yes, it is. Corky stares at her beer. She knows what Violet is thinking. CORKY The redistribution of wealth. VIOLET What? CORKY Isn't that what you wanted to know? What I did time for? VIOLET The redistribution of wealth? CORKY That's what I tell someone when I'm trying to get them in my bed. VIOLET I'm already in your bed. CORKY My cellmate would say she did her time for getting caught. She was always more honest than me. Corky sips her beer. CORKY I started stealing when I was little. We were piss-poor, which is not an excuse, just a fact. It isn't like her to talk about this, especially with someone she just met. CORKY The first time I remember so vividly. A bunch of us kids were at Waxman's Drugstore, when Mr. Waxman, who was a mean old prick, always worrying about us robbing him, dropped a roll of quarters. We can almost hear the coins tinkling on the tile floor. CORKY I can still hear that sound, those quarters, because right then something clicked inside of me. Some instinct took over and as everyone, including Waxman, dove down, I reached up and emptied the cash register. Violet smiles. She likes this woman. CORKY I gave most of the money to my mom. I told her I found it at the trainyard. She was so happy she cried, calling me her lucky charm. Fifteen years later, I guess my luck ran out. Sbe swallows that with beer. CORKY Sometimes I tell myself that I didn't have a choice, that stealing was surviving. Usually I can admit that's bullshit. I did it because it was a way out. It was easy and I was good at it, real good. She glances at Violet. CORKY I don't usually talk this much. I guess I have been rehabilitated. Violet laughs. VIOLET You didn't have to tell me if you didn't want to. CORKY I guess I wanted to. VIOLET I'm glad you did. CORKY So am I. EXT. PARKING LOT DAY Corky gets out of her truck carrying her tools. Grinning like someone who has been well-laid, she whistles off to work. EXT. LOBBY - DAY Between the main doors she sees a man. His name is SHELLY and he is an overdressed accountant. He is very nervous, talking to someone through the intercom. SHELLY I know he's gone. Please. I have to talk to you. Fiddling with her keys, Corky recognizes the voice that answers him. VIOLET (V.O.) What do you want, Shelly? Shelly glances over his shoulder at Corky, answering in a hushed voice. SHELLY I have to leave. Tonight. For a moment the intercom is silent. Then the door buzzes and Shelly pushes inside. Corky follows him to the elevator. INT. ELEVATOR - DAY Corky glares at Shelly and begins pumping the trigger of her circular saw. Shelly hides behind his sunglasses, watching the elevator numbers go up. The doors open and he scurries out. INT. HALL - DAY She watches him enter Caesar's apartment, her smile now completely gone. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - DAY It is later. Through the wall we listen to the same sound as before of two people making love. We drop down and find Corky's brush, still wet with paint, abandoned in her tray. INT. BEDROOM - DAY Her face glistening with sweat, Violet climaxes, letting the orgasm spread through her like melting butter. VIOLET I had this image of you, inside of me ... She flattens her palms against the soft cradle of her pelvis. VIOLET Like a part of me ... As she opens her eyes, we see that her lover is Corky. Violet watches as she gets off the bed and begins to get dressed. VIOLET You are so beautiful. Corky does not answer as she yanks her pants on. Violet sits up. She can feel that something is wrong. VIOLET What's wrong? CORKY Nothing. Violet pulls the sheet around her. VIOLET Yes there is. I felt it this morning when I brought you the coffee. CORKY Shit, here we go. VIOLET You didn't want to see me, did you? CORKY If there is one thing I can't stand about sleeping with women, it's all the fucking mind reading. VIOLET What are you afraid of? CORKY I'm not afraid of anything. VIOLET I don't understand - ? CORKY I know! You can't understand, because we're different, Violet. We're different. VIOLET We're not that different, Corky. CORKY How can you sit in that bed and say that? VIOLET Because it's the truth. CORKY Let me guess. This is where you tell me that what matters is on the inside. That inside you, there is a little dyke just like me? VIOLET Oh no, she's nothing like you. She's a lot smarter than you. CORKY Is that what her daddy tells her? VIOLET I know what I am. I don't need to have it tattooed on my shoulder. CORKY What are you saying? That you don't have sex with men? VIOLET I don't. CORKY For Christ's sake, Violet! I heard you! Thin walls, remember? VIOLET What you heard wasn't sex. CORKY What the fuck was it? VIOLET All my life, everyone has been telling me that when I have sex, I'm not really having sex. Not real sex. But they're wrong. I know what is and isn't sex and what you heard was definitely not sex. CORKY What was it then? VIOLET Work. That knocks Corky back. VIOLET You made certain choices in your life that you paid for. You said you made them because you were good at something and it was easy. Do you think you're the only one that's good at something? Violet stare pins Corky to the wall. VIOLET We make our own choices and we pay our own prices. I think we're more alike than you want to admit. CORKY What about that guy this morning? VIOLET You mean Shelly? CORKY Don't tell me, you're a workaholic. VIOLET No. Shelly knows what I am. He saw me in a bar with another woman. CORKY I suppose he just wants to watch. That's all Violet can take. VIOLET Fuck it! I think you better leave. CORKY I think so, too. Violet turns away. VIOLET Try not to steal anything on the way out. That stings but Corky walks out without looking back. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - NIGHT It is dark now. Corky is standing above the paint tray that has skinned over. She picks up the brush. It is dry with paint. CORKY Shit. She throws the brush across the room. EXT. CAESAR'S APARTMENT BUILDING - DAY A green-and-white street sign juts in the foreground of Caesar's upscale apartment building. The sign reads: "FRANKLIN STREET." EXT. PARKING LOT - DAY The rusty Chevy glides to a stop in a parking space near the service entrance. In its payload is a boxed bathroom vanity and sink. Corky climbs out of the cab and into the back, unhooking the bungee cords that hold down the boxes. She looks up as a black Lincoln Town Car screeches into a spot not far from her truck. THREE SERIOUS-LOOKING MEN get out, leading a fourth, Shelly. He is the only one who seems to notice Corky. They enter the building, the door closing behind them. INT. BATHROOM - DAY Corky's legs jut out from the old wicker vanity as she finishes detaching its anchors and pipe work. She stands, giving it a yank and pulling it away from the wall, when voices begin to filter in from the next-door apartment. She listens - a rising string of warbling sobs drowned out by an angry voice. ANGRY VOICE Shut the fuck up! You piece of shit! We hear a scream. ANGRY VOICE You're going to tell us! You're going to fuckin' tell us! just a matter of fuckin' time! Each sentence is punctuated with grunts and thuds. ANGRY VOICE Where is it? Where the fuck is it?! We begin to close in on Corky as she listens to each thud, watching something that disturbs her. ANGRY VOICE You shit! You piece of shit! With each thud the water in the toilet shimmers like a struck cymbal. As we move closer, the sound swells until -- MATCH CUT TO: INT. CAESAR'S BATHROOM DAY Where blood splatters the toilet, heavy drops hitting the water and spreading like inverted mushroom clouds. ANGRY VOICE Did that hurt? News flash, fucko: I'm just getting started. The angry voice belongs to JOHNNIE MARZZONE. Shelly is kneeling in front of the toilet, hands tied behind his back with electrical wire. Johnnie Marzzone is a flashy young man in Armani slacks, silk shirt and silver-tipped cowboy boots. His tie is tucked in, as if torture were a fine-dining experience. Caesar and two other men are crammed in the small bathroom. JOHNNIE You got nerve trying to fuck us! Nobody fucks me! Nobody fucks my father! Nobody! Nobody! Shelly screams as Jobnnie repeatedly rams his face into the toilet. CAESAR Whoa, whoa. Come on, he's making too much noise.

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Bound Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS BOUND Written by Larry & Andy Wachowski FADE IN: Inside a closet. It is a large closet with double doors, a crisp line of light cutting down through the center of the darkness. As we begin to descend, voices echo in our head. VIOLET (V.O.) I had this image of you, inside of me, like a part of me. We move past a shelf filled with hatboxes and handbags. It is a woman's closet. CORKY (V.O.) You planned this whole thing, didn't you? CAESAR (V.O.) Where's the fucking money? We glide over the tightly packed hangers, close enough to feel the different fabrics and descend past the dresses to the racks of high heels. VIOLET (V.O.) We make our own choices, we pay our own prices. CAESAR (V.O.) All part of the business. VIOLET (V.O.) All part of the business. CORKY (V.O.) What choice? We slide along the delicate taper of a stiletto heel and reach the bottom of the closet, where we find a pair of black Dr. Martens boots that are tied together with a white rope. VIOLET (V.O.) I want out. We move up the boots and we see it is a woman who is bound, lying motionless on the floor of the closet, the rope coiling tightly around her wrists. The crack at the bottom of the door lights her face. She is gagged and unconscious, a trickle of blood running down her forehead. Her name is CORKY. VIOLET (V.O.) Like a part of me. CUT TO: INT. ELEVATOR - DAY Leaning against the back of the elevator is Corky, a very butch-looking woman with short hair and a black leather jacket. She is a lesbian and wants people to know it. As the doors begin to slide shut, a woman yells. WOMAN Wait! Hold the elevator. Corky pushes the "open" button. A couple steps into the elevator. His name is CAESAR, a middle-aged Italian, wearing an expensive suit and sunglasses. She is VIOLET; a piece of sexual candy that would melt in your mouth. She hears it again, a guttural sound. CORKY Thanks again for this opportunity, Mr. Bianchinni. Goodbye. She hangs up the phone and walks toward the wall. As she gets closer, we hear a bed rocking, tapping against the wall. The man's breathing grows more and more labored until finally it swells -- DISSOLVING INTO: INT. BATHROOM - MORNING The whining motor of a high-powered drain-rod. The spiral cable whips wildly, spiraling deeper into the tub drain, black goo splattering everywhere. The machine is so loud Corky almost cannot hear someone pounding on the apartment door. Killing the motor, she stands and goes to the door. Behind the door is Violet, wearing jeans, a white T-shirt and cowboy boots. VIOLET Hi. My name is Violet. We sort of met in the elevator -- CORKY Yeah, sure. I'm Corky. VIOLET I heard you working in here and I just wondered if you'd like a cup of coffee? She is holding two cups of coffee: one black, one with cream. CORKY Sure. Come on in. Give me a minute. Violet steps inside as Corky goes back to the bathroom to wash off the drain dreck. VIOLET What happened to Rajeev? Corky calls from the bathroom, scrubbing her hands vigorously. CORKY Who? VIOLET Rajeev, the man who usually works on the building. CORKY Oh, he went home to India, but as far as I know he'll be back. She wipes her hands on her overalls, returning to the main room. VIOLET So this is temporary for you? CORKY Pretty much. One day at a time. Violet hands her the cup of black coffee. VIOLET I guessed you were straight black. CORKY Good guess. They both sip from the piping hot mugs. CORKY Mmmm ... thanks, I needed this. VIOLET My pleasure ... but to be honest, I did have a slightly ulterior motive here. I was wondering if I could ask a small favor? CORKY A favor? VIOLET Yeah, see, I'm kind of a night person, so I was wondering if it wasn't a terrible inconvenience if you could wait a bit before using power tools. CORKY Oh, I'm sorry -- VIOLET No, it isn't your fault. The walls here are just so thin. CORKY Are they really? VIOLET Yes, it really causes problems. Sometimes it's like you're in the same room. But if it's too much trouble, I understand ... CORKY No, no trouble. There's other work to do. VIOLET You're doing everything yourself? CORKY Yeah. VIOLET That is so amazing. I'm in awe of people who can fix things. My dad was like that. We never had anything new. Whenever something broke he would open it up, tinker with it and it would work. His hands were magic. She looks at Corky's hands cupped around the mug. VIOLET Yeah ... I bet your car is twenty years old. Corky smiles. CORKY Truck. VIOLET Truck. Of course. CORKY '63 Chevy. VIOLET I knew it. VIOLET SIPS VIOLET So, how do you know the owner, Mr. Bianchinni? CORKY I don't, really. I was referred to him. VIOLET Oh, really. Corky suddenly feels she has revealed something. CORKY Do you know him? VIOLET No, but Caesar does. He likes him. Says he's a good Italian. CORKY Caesar is your husband? VIOLET Oh no, no. I'm not the marrying kind. Smiling, she says nothing else. VIOLET I should be going. You can drop the cup off anytime. CORKY Thanks. VIOLET My pleasure. CORKY watches her leave. EXT. THE WATERING HOLE - NIGHT A dirty bar hidden away on a dark street, its cracked, moon- white sign the only evidence it exists. Corky's truck swings into a space in front of a couple of large motorcycles. She flips her collar and heads for the door. INT. THE WATERING HOLE - NIGHT The smell of leather and cigarette smoke fills Corky's nose as she crosses to the bar. BARTENDER Well, well ... Corky sits as the fat bartender waddles over. BARTENDER Been awhile, Cork. CORKY Five years, two months, sixteen days. How you doing, Sue? Corky puts a cigarette in her mouth and lights it. SUE Like shit. Now that we're all caught up, how about a drink? Sue opens the refrigerator and pulls out two Old Styles. CORKY Thanks. They click the bottles together and drink. SUE You got a job yet? CORKY Yeah. Some plumbing, painting and shit. Sue laughs. SUE I mean a J-O-B. A real job. CORKY Not for me, Sue. I'm straight and narrow. I'm just here to get laid or drunk and hopefully both. Corky gets off the stool. CORKY Thanks for the beer. Looking around, she sees a woman alone at one of the back tables. Through the smoky din, she bears a slight resemblance to Violet. The woman is dressed all in black, including a leather jacket. Smiling, Corky slides into the chair beside her. There is no one smoother. CORKY Hi. WOMAN Hello. CORKY You know ... that outfit would look great on my bedroom floor. The woman smiles just as someone taps Corky on the shoulder. She turns and is face-to-face with a large bull of a woman in a heavy leather Chicago Police jacket. She is more wide than fat. WOMAN COP Hey, Jesse. What's happening here? CORKY Nothing ... yet. WOMAN COP Who's this? Her coat opens as she puts her hands on her hips. A service revolver is clipped to her belt. She squints at Corky, her head nodding in recognition. WOMAN COP Wait, I know you. CORKY I don't think so. WOMAN COP I didn't know you were out. Corky smiles at the woman in black. CORKY When you get tired of Cagney and Lacey, come find me. She heads for the exit. EXT. CITY STREET - NIGHT The neighborhood would be politely described as "rough." Corky's truck does not stand out parked alone on the littered street. INT. CORKY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT It is a hole but it is home. Corky is lying on her futon staring up at the ceiling, a beer resting on her stomach; a folk singer quietly croons from the radio. We see the ceiling, a circle of light hovering over the small desk lamp. We move in on the spot, which slowly fills up the screen until there is nothing but the white light. Suddenly a wet paint roller loaded with white paint cuts a swath across the ceiling. MATCH CUT TO: INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - DAY Corky is painting the ceiling. The folk ballad has become an angry Riot Grrrl anthem. She is working hard, the roller sucking back and forth. Sweat covers her face. Dropping the roller down, she reloads it in the tray when the phone rings. She stops and answers it. CORKY Hello? Oh, hi, Mr. Bianchinni ... yes, everything is going fine. I got the tub drain all cleaned out. She listens for a moment. CORKY What apartment? She glances at the main wall. CORKY All right, all right, I guess I could take a look. Yeah, you're welcome, goodbye. She hangs up and looks again at the wall, feeling... curious. INT. HALL - NIGHT Corky knocks and after a moment Violet opens the door. She seems surprised. VIOLET Oh no. Shit. I didn't know he would call you. God, you must think |I'm a total nuisance. CORKY Not exactly. VIOLET I'm sorry, I usually would call Rajeev, but I didn't know what to do so I called Mr. Bianchinni. CORKY He said you lost something. VIOLET Yeah, come on in. She steps back and Corky walks inside. INT. CAESAR'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Violet leads her through the apartment. It is expensively furnished with very masculine tastes; a lot of gray and black leather. VIOLET I was doing some dishes and just as I pulled the stopper my earring fell in. Corky looks at her blankly. VIOLET It's one of my favorites. That's why I got upset. I know it probably seems ridiculous to you. An eyebrow goes up. VIOLET I'm sorry, look, forget it. I shouldn't have called... CORKY I told Bianchinni I would take a look. Is it that sink? Violet nods. She opens the sink cabinet and pulls out a pair of channel locks from her back pocket. The teeth of the channel locks open and bite onto the pressure nut. CORKY Do you have a pot or a bucket? VIOLET Sure. She hands one down to her. Corky slides it under the curved pipe. As she works, Corky feels herself staring at Violet, at the hem of her dress curving tightly around her thighs. Water begins to trickle into the pan. The nut slides loose and Corky tips the trap. Water splashes into the pan with a soft metal "tink." VIOLET Did you find it? Corky fishes into gray water and pulls out the earring. Violet screams, a huge smile on her face, half-falling as she tries to hug Corky. VIOLET I can't believe it! You did it! Corky leans back under and replaces the trap. VIOLET Thank you so much. You have to let me pay you something -- CORKY No. Mr. Bianchinni asked me to do it. I did it. Corky checks the drain by running the water. VIOLET If you won't take money, how about a drink? It's getting late. You can't work all night. Corky eyes her for a moment. CORKY Okay, one drink. VIOLET What do you want? CORKY A beer? VIOLET A beer. Of course. She smiles and turns to the bar. VIOLET Sit down. Corky sits on the black leather couch and Violet returns with two bottles of Heineken. Corky sneers. VIOLET Thanks again. They clink the bottles and swig. VIOLET You seem uncomfortable. Do I make you nervous, Corky? CORKY No. She looks at Violet, then takes another long pull on the bottle. VIOLET Thirsty, maybe. Violet smiles, her eyes again talking for her. CORKY Curious, maybe. VIOLET Curious? That's funny, I'm feeling a bit curious myself right now. Violet notices the tattoo on Corky's arm. VIOLET That's a great tattoo. She reaches over and touches it. VIOLET Beautiful labrys. Corky is a bit suprised that she knows what it is. She nods, rubbing it as if trying to hide it. VIOLET Are you surprised that I know what it is? CORKY Maybe. VIOLET I have a tattoo, would you like to see it? She moves closer, sliding over the leather cushions as she opens the front of her dress. VIOLET A woman in upstate New York did it for me. She is not wearing a bra. VIOLET Here. Do you like it? Set against the soft white skin of her breast is a bright green-stemmed violet. VIOLET It took her all day to do it. She promised me it wouldn't hurt, but it was sore for a long time after. I couldn't even touch it. Corky looks up from Violet's breast to her dark eyes. VIOLET But now I love the way it feels. She runs her fingers softly over the slightly scarred skin. VIOLET Here, touch it. Corky feels the blood pounding in her ears as Violet takes her hand and places it on her breast. CORKY What are you doing? Violet looks at her. VIOLET Isn't it obvious? I'm trying to seduce you. CORKY Why? VIOLET Because I want to. I've wanted to since I first saw you in the elevator. Corky watches her, trying to figure her out even as her thumb presses into Violet's nipple. Inhaling sharply, Violet closes her eyes; she can feel Corky staring at her. VIOLET You don't believe me. But I can prove it to you. She takes Corky's wrist and begins pulling her hand down her body. VIOLET You can't believe me because of what you see ... She forces Corky's hand between her legs, up under her dress. VIOLET But you can believe what you feel. Violet opens her eyes, a wanton smile on her lips. VIOLET You see ... I've been thinking about you all day. Corky's forearm flexes and Violet moans. With both hands, Violet takes hold of Corky's forearm. CORKY You planned this whole thing? Violet's head swims; she is unable to breathe. CORKY You dropped that earring down the drain on purpose, didn't you? VIOLET If I say yes, will you take your hand away? CORKY No. VIOLET ... yes. Now it is Corky who smiles. Violet shivers, her thighs rubbing, her hips thrusting against Corky's hand. VIOLET Please, Corky ... please ... Her eyes barely open. VIOLET ... kiss me. In a single motion, Corky takes hold of the back of her neck and covers Violet's open mouth with her own. With her hand still stuffed between Violet's legs, Corky lays her back onto the couch as the kiss becomes more -- More desperate, more hungry until -- We hear the front door unlock and open. CAESAR Violet? Violet's eyes pop open and she pushes Corky back. CAESAR Violet, you home? They scramble to compose themselves. VIOLET Yeah. In here, C. He comes around the corner and in the dim light sees the two figures sitting close on the couch. CAESAR What's this? He mistakes Corky for a man. CAESAR What the fuck is this? Violet stands as Caesar barrels toward the couch. VIOLET I didn't expect -- CAESAR What the fuck is going on? Corky stands and turns, Caesar suddenly realizing that she is a woman. CAESAR Oh, shit ... VIOLET Caesar, this is Corky. Corky, Caesar. CAESAR I'm sorry, Christ, I thought ... it's fucking dark in here. He reaches to the wall for the lights. VIOLET She is working for Bianchinni. Caesar extends his hand. CAESAR Oh, right, right. Don mentioned that to me. Hi, welcome to the family. Corky shakes his hand. CAESAR You're helping Rajeev? CORKY No. Rajeev's in India. VIOLET She's doing the work herself. CAESAR No shit. Bianchinni hired you? You know he's a good friend of mine. |Family, really. CORKY That's what Violet said. He looks at her as if he knows something. CAESAR So, you just got out? VIOLET Jesus, Caesar! CAESAR What? It ain't no big fuckin' deal. I know who Don hires. Did you know he did time himself? Corky shakes her head. CAESAR Thirteen fucking years. See, there ain't no secrets here. Corky doesn't like this man. CAESAR How many'd you do? CORKY Five. He whistles. CAESAR Not bad. What for? VIOLET That's none of your goddamn business, Caesar. CAESAR You're right. You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to. I just hope you understand you're among good people here. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a thick fold of money and peels several hundreds. Corky stares at it. CAESAR Come on, come on. if you understand what I'm talking about you're going to take the money. if you don't, I'm going to have to worry about you. Corky takes it. Caesar smiles. CAESAR Good. I hate to worry. I got ulcers. CORKY I should be going. CAESAR What? How about a drink? CORKY My brushes, I have to clean my brushes. Thanks, though. CAESAR Another time. CORKY Sure. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - NIGHT Close on the paintbrush, Corky's fingers pushing through and separating the black bristles under the running water. When the brush is clean, she flicks it dry and resets the edge. She goes to the sink to wash her hands when she stops, noticing her left hand. It is the hand that was between Violet's legs. She is about to smell her finger when she sees herself in the mirror. CORKY What are you doing? She drops her hand. CORKY What am I doing? I'm fucking up, that's what I'm doing. She scrubs her hands clean. EXT. PARKING LOT - NIGHT It is late, the area burnished with amber street light. Corky walks from the building to her truck. She climbs inside and slides the key into the ignition, when suddenly the passenger door opens and -- Violet gets in. Stunned, Corky stares at her. VIOLET I had to see you. CORKY Look, I don't think this is a good idea. VIOLET I wanted to apologize. CORKY Don't apologize, please. I can't stand women who apologize for wanting sex. Violet smiles. VIOLET I'm not apologizing for what I did -- She slides across the seat. VIOLET I'm apologizing for what I didn't do. She kisses Corky, and if Corky is trying to resist, we can't tell. The windshield is beginning to steam when Violet, panting, breaks the kiss. VIOLET Do you have a bed somewhere? Unable to speak, Corky reaches over and starts the engine. INT. CORKY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT The sex. There is nothing flower-scented or out-of-focus about it. It is sweaty, slippery, body-grinding, bed-squeaking lesbian sex -- Pungent and potent -- And when it is over, neither woman can move. Finally, Corky's eyes flutter open. CORKY I can see again. Violet smiles. Slowly, Corky gets up and goes to the fridge. She grabs a beer and presses it to her sweating forebead. After a moment, she lowers it, gently pressing the cold can elsewhere. Eyes closed, she lets out a long "Ahh." Violet hears the sizzle-pop of the beer as Corky returns to the bed. She holds the beer to Violet's lips and tilts the can, watching Violet's throat as she drinks. Violet's eyes open. VIOLET ... I needed that. CORKY Tell me about it. Corky hands her the beer as Violet sits up a bit. CORKY Caesar's Mafia, isn't he? VIOLET You have to ask? CORKY No. VIOLET Funny, nobody calls it that anymore. Caesar calls it "The |Business." CORKY How did you meet him? VIOLET They took over a club I was working at. Caesar started managing it. CORKY He's a launderer? VIOLET Basically. CORKY How long have you been with him? VIOLET Almost five years. CORKY Five years is a long time. VIOLET Yes, it is. Corky stares at her beer. She knows what Violet is thinking. CORKY The redistribution of wealth. VIOLET What? CORKY Isn't that what you wanted to know? What I did time for? VIOLET The redistribution of wealth? CORKY That's what I tell someone when I'm trying to get them in my bed. VIOLET I'm already in your bed. CORKY My cellmate would say she did her time for getting caught. She was always more honest than me. Corky sips her beer. CORKY I started stealing when I was little. We were piss-poor, which is not an excuse, just a fact. It isn't like her to talk about this, especially with someone she just met. CORKY The first time I remember so vividly. A bunch of us kids were at Waxman's Drugstore, when Mr. Waxman, who was a mean old prick, always worrying about us robbing him, dropped a roll of quarters. We can almost hear the coins tinkling on the tile floor. CORKY I can still hear that sound, those quarters, because right then something clicked inside of me. Some instinct took over and as everyone, including Waxman, dove down, I reached up and emptied the cash register. Violet smiles. She likes this woman. CORKY I gave most of the money to my mom. I told her I found it at the trainyard. She was so happy she cried, calling me her lucky charm. Fifteen years later, I guess my luck ran out. Sbe swallows that with beer. CORKY Sometimes I tell myself that I didn't have a choice, that stealing was surviving. Usually I can admit that's bullshit. I did it because it was a way out. It was easy and I was good at it, real good. She glances at Violet. CORKY I don't usually talk this much. I guess I have been rehabilitated. Violet laughs. VIOLET You didn't have to tell me if you didn't want to. CORKY I guess I wanted to. VIOLET I'm glad you did. CORKY So am I. EXT. PARKING LOT DAY Corky gets out of her truck carrying her tools. Grinning like someone who has been well-laid, she whistles off to work. EXT. LOBBY - DAY Between the main doors she sees a man. His name is SHELLY and he is an overdressed accountant. He is very nervous, talking to someone through the intercom. SHELLY I know he's gone. Please. I have to talk to you. Fiddling with her keys, Corky recognizes the voice that answers him. VIOLET (V.O.) What do you want, Shelly? Shelly glances over his shoulder at Corky, answering in a hushed voice. SHELLY I have to leave. Tonight. For a moment the intercom is silent. Then the door buzzes and Shelly pushes inside. Corky follows him to the elevator. INT. ELEVATOR - DAY Corky glares at Shelly and begins pumping the trigger of her circular saw. Shelly hides behind his sunglasses, watching the elevator numbers go up. The doors open and he scurries out. INT. HALL - DAY She watches him enter Caesar's apartment, her smile now completely gone. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - DAY It is later. Through the wall we listen to the same sound as before of two people making love. We drop down and find Corky's brush, still wet with paint, abandoned in her tray. INT. BEDROOM - DAY Her face glistening with sweat, Violet climaxes, letting the orgasm spread through her like melting butter. VIOLET I had this image of you, inside of me ... She flattens her palms against the soft cradle of her pelvis. VIOLET Like a part of me ... As she opens her eyes, we see that her lover is Corky. Violet watches as she gets off the bed and begins to get dressed. VIOLET You are so beautiful. Corky does not answer as she yanks her pants on. Violet sits up. She can feel that something is wrong. VIOLET What's wrong? CORKY Nothing. Violet pulls the sheet around her. VIOLET Yes there is. I felt it this morning when I brought you the coffee. CORKY Shit, here we go. VIOLET You didn't want to see me, did you? CORKY If there is one thing I can't stand about sleeping with women, it's all the fucking mind reading. VIOLET What are you afraid of? CORKY I'm not afraid of anything. VIOLET I don't understand - ? CORKY I know! You can't understand, because we're different, Violet. We're different. VIOLET We're not that different, Corky. CORKY How can you sit in that bed and say that? VIOLET Because it's the truth. CORKY Let me guess. This is where you tell me that what matters is on the inside. That inside you, there is a little dyke just like me? VIOLET Oh no, she's nothing like you. She's a lot smarter than you. CORKY Is that what her daddy tells her? VIOLET I know what I am. I don't need to have it tattooed on my shoulder. CORKY What are you saying? That you don't have sex with men? VIOLET I don't. CORKY For Christ's sake, Violet! I heard you! Thin walls, remember? VIOLET What you heard wasn't sex. CORKY What the fuck was it? VIOLET All my life, everyone has been telling me that when I have sex, I'm not really having sex. Not real sex. But they're wrong. I know what is and isn't sex and what you heard was definitely not sex. CORKY What was it then? VIOLET Work. That knocks Corky back. VIOLET You made certain choices in your life that you paid for. You said you made them because you were good at something and it was easy. Do you think you're the only one that's good at something? Violet stare pins Corky to the wall. VIOLET We make our own choices and we pay our own prices. I think we're more alike than you want to admit. CORKY What about that guy this morning? VIOLET You mean Shelly? CORKY Don't tell me, you're a workaholic. VIOLET No. Shelly knows what I am. He saw me in a bar with another woman. CORKY I suppose he just wants to watch. That's all Violet can take. VIOLET Fuck it! I think you better leave. CORKY I think so, too. Violet turns away. VIOLET Try not to steal anything on the way out. That stings but Corky walks out without looking back. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - NIGHT It is dark now. Corky is standing above the paint tray that has skinned over. She picks up the brush. It is dry with paint. CORKY Shit. She throws the brush across the room. EXT. CAESAR'S APARTMENT BUILDING - DAY A green-and-white street sign juts in the foreground of Caesar's upscale apartment building. The sign reads: "FRANKLIN STREET." EXT. PARKING LOT - DAY The rusty Chevy glides to a stop in a parking space near the service entrance. In its payload is a boxed bathroom vanity and sink. Corky climbs out of the cab and into the back, unhooking the bungee cords that hold down the boxes. She looks up as a black Lincoln Town Car screeches into a spot not far from her truck. THREE SERIOUS-LOOKING MEN get out, leading a fourth, Shelly. He is the only one who seems to notice Corky. They enter the building, the door closing behind them. INT. BATHROOM - DAY Corky's legs jut out from the old wicker vanity as she finishes detaching its anchors and pipe work. She stands, giving it a yank and pulling it away from the wall, when voices begin to filter in from the next-door apartment. She listens - a rising string of warbling sobs drowned out by an angry voice. ANGRY VOICE Shut the fuck up! You piece of shit! We hear a scream. ANGRY VOICE You're going to tell us! You're going to fuckin' tell us! just a matter of fuckin' time! Each sentence is punctuated with grunts and thuds. ANGRY VOICE Where is it? Where the fuck is it?! We begin to close in on Corky as she listens to each thud, watching something that disturbs her. ANGRY VOICE You shit! You piece of shit! With each thud the water in the toilet shimmers like a struck cymbal. As we move closer, the sound swells until -- MATCH CUT TO: INT. CAESAR'S BATHROOM DAY Where blood splatters the toilet, heavy drops hitting the water and spreading like inverted mushroom clouds. ANGRY VOICE Did that hurt? News flash, fucko: I'm just getting started. The angry voice belongs to JOHNNIE MARZZONE. Shelly is kneeling in front of the toilet, hands tied behind his back with electrical wire. Johnnie Marzzone is a flashy young man in Armani slacks, silk shirt and silver-tipped cowboy boots. His tie is tucked in, as if torture were a fine-dining experience. Caesar and two other men are crammed in the small bathroom. JOHNNIE You got nerve trying to fuck us! Nobody fucks me! Nobody fucks my father! Nobody! Nobody! Shelly screams as Jobnnie repeatedly rams his face into the toilet. CAESAR Whoa, whoa. Come on, he's making too much noise.

neighborhood

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Bound Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS BOUND Written by Larry & Andy Wachowski FADE IN: Inside a closet. It is a large closet with double doors, a crisp line of light cutting down through the center of the darkness. As we begin to descend, voices echo in our head. VIOLET (V.O.) I had this image of you, inside of me, like a part of me. We move past a shelf filled with hatboxes and handbags. It is a woman's closet. CORKY (V.O.) You planned this whole thing, didn't you? CAESAR (V.O.) Where's the fucking money? We glide over the tightly packed hangers, close enough to feel the different fabrics and descend past the dresses to the racks of high heels. VIOLET (V.O.) We make our own choices, we pay our own prices. CAESAR (V.O.) All part of the business. VIOLET (V.O.) All part of the business. CORKY (V.O.) What choice? We slide along the delicate taper of a stiletto heel and reach the bottom of the closet, where we find a pair of black Dr. Martens boots that are tied together with a white rope. VIOLET (V.O.) I want out. We move up the boots and we see it is a woman who is bound, lying motionless on the floor of the closet, the rope coiling tightly around her wrists. The crack at the bottom of the door lights her face. She is gagged and unconscious, a trickle of blood running down her forehead. Her name is CORKY. VIOLET (V.O.) Like a part of me. CUT TO: INT. ELEVATOR - DAY Leaning against the back of the elevator is Corky, a very butch-looking woman with short hair and a black leather jacket. She is a lesbian and wants people to know it. As the doors begin to slide shut, a woman yells. WOMAN Wait! Hold the elevator. Corky pushes the "open" button. A couple steps into the elevator. His name is CAESAR, a middle-aged Italian, wearing an expensive suit and sunglasses. She is VIOLET; a piece of sexual candy that would melt in your mouth. She hears it again, a guttural sound. CORKY Thanks again for this opportunity, Mr. Bianchinni. Goodbye. She hangs up the phone and walks toward the wall. As she gets closer, we hear a bed rocking, tapping against the wall. The man's breathing grows more and more labored until finally it swells -- DISSOLVING INTO: INT. BATHROOM - MORNING The whining motor of a high-powered drain-rod. The spiral cable whips wildly, spiraling deeper into the tub drain, black goo splattering everywhere. The machine is so loud Corky almost cannot hear someone pounding on the apartment door. Killing the motor, she stands and goes to the door. Behind the door is Violet, wearing jeans, a white T-shirt and cowboy boots. VIOLET Hi. My name is Violet. We sort of met in the elevator -- CORKY Yeah, sure. I'm Corky. VIOLET I heard you working in here and I just wondered if you'd like a cup of coffee? She is holding two cups of coffee: one black, one with cream. CORKY Sure. Come on in. Give me a minute. Violet steps inside as Corky goes back to the bathroom to wash off the drain dreck. VIOLET What happened to Rajeev? Corky calls from the bathroom, scrubbing her hands vigorously. CORKY Who? VIOLET Rajeev, the man who usually works on the building. CORKY Oh, he went home to India, but as far as I know he'll be back. She wipes her hands on her overalls, returning to the main room. VIOLET So this is temporary for you? CORKY Pretty much. One day at a time. Violet hands her the cup of black coffee. VIOLET I guessed you were straight black. CORKY Good guess. They both sip from the piping hot mugs. CORKY Mmmm ... thanks, I needed this. VIOLET My pleasure ... but to be honest, I did have a slightly ulterior motive here. I was wondering if I could ask a small favor? CORKY A favor? VIOLET Yeah, see, I'm kind of a night person, so I was wondering if it wasn't a terrible inconvenience if you could wait a bit before using power tools. CORKY Oh, I'm sorry -- VIOLET No, it isn't your fault. The walls here are just so thin. CORKY Are they really? VIOLET Yes, it really causes problems. Sometimes it's like you're in the same room. But if it's too much trouble, I understand ... CORKY No, no trouble. There's other work to do. VIOLET You're doing everything yourself? CORKY Yeah. VIOLET That is so amazing. I'm in awe of people who can fix things. My dad was like that. We never had anything new. Whenever something broke he would open it up, tinker with it and it would work. His hands were magic. She looks at Corky's hands cupped around the mug. VIOLET Yeah ... I bet your car is twenty years old. Corky smiles. CORKY Truck. VIOLET Truck. Of course. CORKY '63 Chevy. VIOLET I knew it. VIOLET SIPS VIOLET So, how do you know the owner, Mr. Bianchinni? CORKY I don't, really. I was referred to him. VIOLET Oh, really. Corky suddenly feels she has revealed something. CORKY Do you know him? VIOLET No, but Caesar does. He likes him. Says he's a good Italian. CORKY Caesar is your husband? VIOLET Oh no, no. I'm not the marrying kind. Smiling, she says nothing else. VIOLET I should be going. You can drop the cup off anytime. CORKY Thanks. VIOLET My pleasure. CORKY watches her leave. EXT. THE WATERING HOLE - NIGHT A dirty bar hidden away on a dark street, its cracked, moon- white sign the only evidence it exists. Corky's truck swings into a space in front of a couple of large motorcycles. She flips her collar and heads for the door. INT. THE WATERING HOLE - NIGHT The smell of leather and cigarette smoke fills Corky's nose as she crosses to the bar. BARTENDER Well, well ... Corky sits as the fat bartender waddles over. BARTENDER Been awhile, Cork. CORKY Five years, two months, sixteen days. How you doing, Sue? Corky puts a cigarette in her mouth and lights it. SUE Like shit. Now that we're all caught up, how about a drink? Sue opens the refrigerator and pulls out two Old Styles. CORKY Thanks. They click the bottles together and drink. SUE You got a job yet? CORKY Yeah. Some plumbing, painting and shit. Sue laughs. SUE I mean a J-O-B. A real job. CORKY Not for me, Sue. I'm straight and narrow. I'm just here to get laid or drunk and hopefully both. Corky gets off the stool. CORKY Thanks for the beer. Looking around, she sees a woman alone at one of the back tables. Through the smoky din, she bears a slight resemblance to Violet. The woman is dressed all in black, including a leather jacket. Smiling, Corky slides into the chair beside her. There is no one smoother. CORKY Hi. WOMAN Hello. CORKY You know ... that outfit would look great on my bedroom floor. The woman smiles just as someone taps Corky on the shoulder. She turns and is face-to-face with a large bull of a woman in a heavy leather Chicago Police jacket. She is more wide than fat. WOMAN COP Hey, Jesse. What's happening here? CORKY Nothing ... yet. WOMAN COP Who's this? Her coat opens as she puts her hands on her hips. A service revolver is clipped to her belt. She squints at Corky, her head nodding in recognition. WOMAN COP Wait, I know you. CORKY I don't think so. WOMAN COP I didn't know you were out. Corky smiles at the woman in black. CORKY When you get tired of Cagney and Lacey, come find me. She heads for the exit. EXT. CITY STREET - NIGHT The neighborhood would be politely described as "rough." Corky's truck does not stand out parked alone on the littered street. INT. CORKY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT It is a hole but it is home. Corky is lying on her futon staring up at the ceiling, a beer resting on her stomach; a folk singer quietly croons from the radio. We see the ceiling, a circle of light hovering over the small desk lamp. We move in on the spot, which slowly fills up the screen until there is nothing but the white light. Suddenly a wet paint roller loaded with white paint cuts a swath across the ceiling. MATCH CUT TO: INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - DAY Corky is painting the ceiling. The folk ballad has become an angry Riot Grrrl anthem. She is working hard, the roller sucking back and forth. Sweat covers her face. Dropping the roller down, she reloads it in the tray when the phone rings. She stops and answers it. CORKY Hello? Oh, hi, Mr. Bianchinni ... yes, everything is going fine. I got the tub drain all cleaned out. She listens for a moment. CORKY What apartment? She glances at the main wall. CORKY All right, all right, I guess I could take a look. Yeah, you're welcome, goodbye. She hangs up and looks again at the wall, feeling... curious. INT. HALL - NIGHT Corky knocks and after a moment Violet opens the door. She seems surprised. VIOLET Oh no. Shit. I didn't know he would call you. God, you must think |I'm a total nuisance. CORKY Not exactly. VIOLET I'm sorry, I usually would call Rajeev, but I didn't know what to do so I called Mr. Bianchinni. CORKY He said you lost something. VIOLET Yeah, come on in. She steps back and Corky walks inside. INT. CAESAR'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Violet leads her through the apartment. It is expensively furnished with very masculine tastes; a lot of gray and black leather. VIOLET I was doing some dishes and just as I pulled the stopper my earring fell in. Corky looks at her blankly. VIOLET It's one of my favorites. That's why I got upset. I know it probably seems ridiculous to you. An eyebrow goes up. VIOLET I'm sorry, look, forget it. I shouldn't have called... CORKY I told Bianchinni I would take a look. Is it that sink? Violet nods. She opens the sink cabinet and pulls out a pair of channel locks from her back pocket. The teeth of the channel locks open and bite onto the pressure nut. CORKY Do you have a pot or a bucket? VIOLET Sure. She hands one down to her. Corky slides it under the curved pipe. As she works, Corky feels herself staring at Violet, at the hem of her dress curving tightly around her thighs. Water begins to trickle into the pan. The nut slides loose and Corky tips the trap. Water splashes into the pan with a soft metal "tink." VIOLET Did you find it? Corky fishes into gray water and pulls out the earring. Violet screams, a huge smile on her face, half-falling as she tries to hug Corky. VIOLET I can't believe it! You did it! Corky leans back under and replaces the trap. VIOLET Thank you so much. You have to let me pay you something -- CORKY No. Mr. Bianchinni asked me to do it. I did it. Corky checks the drain by running the water. VIOLET If you won't take money, how about a drink? It's getting late. You can't work all night. Corky eyes her for a moment. CORKY Okay, one drink. VIOLET What do you want? CORKY A beer? VIOLET A beer. Of course. She smiles and turns to the bar. VIOLET Sit down. Corky sits on the black leather couch and Violet returns with two bottles of Heineken. Corky sneers. VIOLET Thanks again. They clink the bottles and swig. VIOLET You seem uncomfortable. Do I make you nervous, Corky? CORKY No. She looks at Violet, then takes another long pull on the bottle. VIOLET Thirsty, maybe. Violet smiles, her eyes again talking for her. CORKY Curious, maybe. VIOLET Curious? That's funny, I'm feeling a bit curious myself right now. Violet notices the tattoo on Corky's arm. VIOLET That's a great tattoo. She reaches over and touches it. VIOLET Beautiful labrys. Corky is a bit suprised that she knows what it is. She nods, rubbing it as if trying to hide it. VIOLET Are you surprised that I know what it is? CORKY Maybe. VIOLET I have a tattoo, would you like to see it? She moves closer, sliding over the leather cushions as she opens the front of her dress. VIOLET A woman in upstate New York did it for me. She is not wearing a bra. VIOLET Here. Do you like it? Set against the soft white skin of her breast is a bright green-stemmed violet. VIOLET It took her all day to do it. She promised me it wouldn't hurt, but it was sore for a long time after. I couldn't even touch it. Corky looks up from Violet's breast to her dark eyes. VIOLET But now I love the way it feels. She runs her fingers softly over the slightly scarred skin. VIOLET Here, touch it. Corky feels the blood pounding in her ears as Violet takes her hand and places it on her breast. CORKY What are you doing? Violet looks at her. VIOLET Isn't it obvious? I'm trying to seduce you. CORKY Why? VIOLET Because I want to. I've wanted to since I first saw you in the elevator. Corky watches her, trying to figure her out even as her thumb presses into Violet's nipple. Inhaling sharply, Violet closes her eyes; she can feel Corky staring at her. VIOLET You don't believe me. But I can prove it to you. She takes Corky's wrist and begins pulling her hand down her body. VIOLET You can't believe me because of what you see ... She forces Corky's hand between her legs, up under her dress. VIOLET But you can believe what you feel. Violet opens her eyes, a wanton smile on her lips. VIOLET You see ... I've been thinking about you all day. Corky's forearm flexes and Violet moans. With both hands, Violet takes hold of Corky's forearm. CORKY You planned this whole thing? Violet's head swims; she is unable to breathe. CORKY You dropped that earring down the drain on purpose, didn't you? VIOLET If I say yes, will you take your hand away? CORKY No. VIOLET ... yes. Now it is Corky who smiles. Violet shivers, her thighs rubbing, her hips thrusting against Corky's hand. VIOLET Please, Corky ... please ... Her eyes barely open. VIOLET ... kiss me. In a single motion, Corky takes hold of the back of her neck and covers Violet's open mouth with her own. With her hand still stuffed between Violet's legs, Corky lays her back onto the couch as the kiss becomes more -- More desperate, more hungry until -- We hear the front door unlock and open. CAESAR Violet? Violet's eyes pop open and she pushes Corky back. CAESAR Violet, you home? They scramble to compose themselves. VIOLET Yeah. In here, C. He comes around the corner and in the dim light sees the two figures sitting close on the couch. CAESAR What's this? He mistakes Corky for a man. CAESAR What the fuck is this? Violet stands as Caesar barrels toward the couch. VIOLET I didn't expect -- CAESAR What the fuck is going on? Corky stands and turns, Caesar suddenly realizing that she is a woman. CAESAR Oh, shit ... VIOLET Caesar, this is Corky. Corky, Caesar. CAESAR I'm sorry, Christ, I thought ... it's fucking dark in here. He reaches to the wall for the lights. VIOLET She is working for Bianchinni. Caesar extends his hand. CAESAR Oh, right, right. Don mentioned that to me. Hi, welcome to the family. Corky shakes his hand. CAESAR You're helping Rajeev? CORKY No. Rajeev's in India. VIOLET She's doing the work herself. CAESAR No shit. Bianchinni hired you? You know he's a good friend of mine. |Family, really. CORKY That's what Violet said. He looks at her as if he knows something. CAESAR So, you just got out? VIOLET Jesus, Caesar! CAESAR What? It ain't no big fuckin' deal. I know who Don hires. Did you know he did time himself? Corky shakes her head. CAESAR Thirteen fucking years. See, there ain't no secrets here. Corky doesn't like this man. CAESAR How many'd you do? CORKY Five. He whistles. CAESAR Not bad. What for? VIOLET That's none of your goddamn business, Caesar. CAESAR You're right. You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to. I just hope you understand you're among good people here. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a thick fold of money and peels several hundreds. Corky stares at it. CAESAR Come on, come on. if you understand what I'm talking about you're going to take the money. if you don't, I'm going to have to worry about you. Corky takes it. Caesar smiles. CAESAR Good. I hate to worry. I got ulcers. CORKY I should be going. CAESAR What? How about a drink? CORKY My brushes, I have to clean my brushes. Thanks, though. CAESAR Another time. CORKY Sure. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - NIGHT Close on the paintbrush, Corky's fingers pushing through and separating the black bristles under the running water. When the brush is clean, she flicks it dry and resets the edge. She goes to the sink to wash her hands when she stops, noticing her left hand. It is the hand that was between Violet's legs. She is about to smell her finger when she sees herself in the mirror. CORKY What are you doing? She drops her hand. CORKY What am I doing? I'm fucking up, that's what I'm doing. She scrubs her hands clean. EXT. PARKING LOT - NIGHT It is late, the area burnished with amber street light. Corky walks from the building to her truck. She climbs inside and slides the key into the ignition, when suddenly the passenger door opens and -- Violet gets in. Stunned, Corky stares at her. VIOLET I had to see you. CORKY Look, I don't think this is a good idea. VIOLET I wanted to apologize. CORKY Don't apologize, please. I can't stand women who apologize for wanting sex. Violet smiles. VIOLET I'm not apologizing for what I did -- She slides across the seat. VIOLET I'm apologizing for what I didn't do. She kisses Corky, and if Corky is trying to resist, we can't tell. The windshield is beginning to steam when Violet, panting, breaks the kiss. VIOLET Do you have a bed somewhere? Unable to speak, Corky reaches over and starts the engine. INT. CORKY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT The sex. There is nothing flower-scented or out-of-focus about it. It is sweaty, slippery, body-grinding, bed-squeaking lesbian sex -- Pungent and potent -- And when it is over, neither woman can move. Finally, Corky's eyes flutter open. CORKY I can see again. Violet smiles. Slowly, Corky gets up and goes to the fridge. She grabs a beer and presses it to her sweating forebead. After a moment, she lowers it, gently pressing the cold can elsewhere. Eyes closed, she lets out a long "Ahh." Violet hears the sizzle-pop of the beer as Corky returns to the bed. She holds the beer to Violet's lips and tilts the can, watching Violet's throat as she drinks. Violet's eyes open. VIOLET ... I needed that. CORKY Tell me about it. Corky hands her the beer as Violet sits up a bit. CORKY Caesar's Mafia, isn't he? VIOLET You have to ask? CORKY No. VIOLET Funny, nobody calls it that anymore. Caesar calls it "The |Business." CORKY How did you meet him? VIOLET They took over a club I was working at. Caesar started managing it. CORKY He's a launderer? VIOLET Basically. CORKY How long have you been with him? VIOLET Almost five years. CORKY Five years is a long time. VIOLET Yes, it is. Corky stares at her beer. She knows what Violet is thinking. CORKY The redistribution of wealth. VIOLET What? CORKY Isn't that what you wanted to know? What I did time for? VIOLET The redistribution of wealth? CORKY That's what I tell someone when I'm trying to get them in my bed. VIOLET I'm already in your bed. CORKY My cellmate would say she did her time for getting caught. She was always more honest than me. Corky sips her beer. CORKY I started stealing when I was little. We were piss-poor, which is not an excuse, just a fact. It isn't like her to talk about this, especially with someone she just met. CORKY The first time I remember so vividly. A bunch of us kids were at Waxman's Drugstore, when Mr. Waxman, who was a mean old prick, always worrying about us robbing him, dropped a roll of quarters. We can almost hear the coins tinkling on the tile floor. CORKY I can still hear that sound, those quarters, because right then something clicked inside of me. Some instinct took over and as everyone, including Waxman, dove down, I reached up and emptied the cash register. Violet smiles. She likes this woman. CORKY I gave most of the money to my mom. I told her I found it at the trainyard. She was so happy she cried, calling me her lucky charm. Fifteen years later, I guess my luck ran out. Sbe swallows that with beer. CORKY Sometimes I tell myself that I didn't have a choice, that stealing was surviving. Usually I can admit that's bullshit. I did it because it was a way out. It was easy and I was good at it, real good. She glances at Violet. CORKY I don't usually talk this much. I guess I have been rehabilitated. Violet laughs. VIOLET You didn't have to tell me if you didn't want to. CORKY I guess I wanted to. VIOLET I'm glad you did. CORKY So am I. EXT. PARKING LOT DAY Corky gets out of her truck carrying her tools. Grinning like someone who has been well-laid, she whistles off to work. EXT. LOBBY - DAY Between the main doors she sees a man. His name is SHELLY and he is an overdressed accountant. He is very nervous, talking to someone through the intercom. SHELLY I know he's gone. Please. I have to talk to you. Fiddling with her keys, Corky recognizes the voice that answers him. VIOLET (V.O.) What do you want, Shelly? Shelly glances over his shoulder at Corky, answering in a hushed voice. SHELLY I have to leave. Tonight. For a moment the intercom is silent. Then the door buzzes and Shelly pushes inside. Corky follows him to the elevator. INT. ELEVATOR - DAY Corky glares at Shelly and begins pumping the trigger of her circular saw. Shelly hides behind his sunglasses, watching the elevator numbers go up. The doors open and he scurries out. INT. HALL - DAY She watches him enter Caesar's apartment, her smile now completely gone. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - DAY It is later. Through the wall we listen to the same sound as before of two people making love. We drop down and find Corky's brush, still wet with paint, abandoned in her tray. INT. BEDROOM - DAY Her face glistening with sweat, Violet climaxes, letting the orgasm spread through her like melting butter. VIOLET I had this image of you, inside of me ... She flattens her palms against the soft cradle of her pelvis. VIOLET Like a part of me ... As she opens her eyes, we see that her lover is Corky. Violet watches as she gets off the bed and begins to get dressed. VIOLET You are so beautiful. Corky does not answer as she yanks her pants on. Violet sits up. She can feel that something is wrong. VIOLET What's wrong? CORKY Nothing. Violet pulls the sheet around her. VIOLET Yes there is. I felt it this morning when I brought you the coffee. CORKY Shit, here we go. VIOLET You didn't want to see me, did you? CORKY If there is one thing I can't stand about sleeping with women, it's all the fucking mind reading. VIOLET What are you afraid of? CORKY I'm not afraid of anything. VIOLET I don't understand - ? CORKY I know! You can't understand, because we're different, Violet. We're different. VIOLET We're not that different, Corky. CORKY How can you sit in that bed and say that? VIOLET Because it's the truth. CORKY Let me guess. This is where you tell me that what matters is on the inside. That inside you, there is a little dyke just like me? VIOLET Oh no, she's nothing like you. She's a lot smarter than you. CORKY Is that what her daddy tells her? VIOLET I know what I am. I don't need to have it tattooed on my shoulder. CORKY What are you saying? That you don't have sex with men? VIOLET I don't. CORKY For Christ's sake, Violet! I heard you! Thin walls, remember? VIOLET What you heard wasn't sex. CORKY What the fuck was it? VIOLET All my life, everyone has been telling me that when I have sex, I'm not really having sex. Not real sex. But they're wrong. I know what is and isn't sex and what you heard was definitely not sex. CORKY What was it then? VIOLET Work. That knocks Corky back. VIOLET You made certain choices in your life that you paid for. You said you made them because you were good at something and it was easy. Do you think you're the only one that's good at something? Violet stare pins Corky to the wall. VIOLET We make our own choices and we pay our own prices. I think we're more alike than you want to admit. CORKY What about that guy this morning? VIOLET You mean Shelly? CORKY Don't tell me, you're a workaholic. VIOLET No. Shelly knows what I am. He saw me in a bar with another woman. CORKY I suppose he just wants to watch. That's all Violet can take. VIOLET Fuck it! I think you better leave. CORKY I think so, too. Violet turns away. VIOLET Try not to steal anything on the way out. That stings but Corky walks out without looking back. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - NIGHT It is dark now. Corky is standing above the paint tray that has skinned over. She picks up the brush. It is dry with paint. CORKY Shit. She throws the brush across the room. EXT. CAESAR'S APARTMENT BUILDING - DAY A green-and-white street sign juts in the foreground of Caesar's upscale apartment building. The sign reads: "FRANKLIN STREET." EXT. PARKING LOT - DAY The rusty Chevy glides to a stop in a parking space near the service entrance. In its payload is a boxed bathroom vanity and sink. Corky climbs out of the cab and into the back, unhooking the bungee cords that hold down the boxes. She looks up as a black Lincoln Town Car screeches into a spot not far from her truck. THREE SERIOUS-LOOKING MEN get out, leading a fourth, Shelly. He is the only one who seems to notice Corky. They enter the building, the door closing behind them. INT. BATHROOM - DAY Corky's legs jut out from the old wicker vanity as she finishes detaching its anchors and pipe work. She stands, giving it a yank and pulling it away from the wall, when voices begin to filter in from the next-door apartment. She listens - a rising string of warbling sobs drowned out by an angry voice. ANGRY VOICE Shut the fuck up! You piece of shit! We hear a scream. ANGRY VOICE You're going to tell us! You're going to fuckin' tell us! just a matter of fuckin' time! Each sentence is punctuated with grunts and thuds. ANGRY VOICE Where is it? Where the fuck is it?! We begin to close in on Corky as she listens to each thud, watching something that disturbs her. ANGRY VOICE You shit! You piece of shit! With each thud the water in the toilet shimmers like a struck cymbal. As we move closer, the sound swells until -- MATCH CUT TO: INT. CAESAR'S BATHROOM DAY Where blood splatters the toilet, heavy drops hitting the water and spreading like inverted mushroom clouds. ANGRY VOICE Did that hurt? News flash, fucko: I'm just getting started. The angry voice belongs to JOHNNIE MARZZONE. Shelly is kneeling in front of the toilet, hands tied behind his back with electrical wire. Johnnie Marzzone is a flashy young man in Armani slacks, silk shirt and silver-tipped cowboy boots. His tie is tucked in, as if torture were a fine-dining experience. Caesar and two other men are crammed in the small bathroom. JOHNNIE You got nerve trying to fuck us! Nobody fucks me! Nobody fucks my father! Nobody! Nobody! Shelly screams as Jobnnie repeatedly rams his face into the toilet. CAESAR Whoa, whoa. Come on, he's making too much noise.

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Bound Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS BOUND Written by Larry & Andy Wachowski FADE IN: Inside a closet. It is a large closet with double doors, a crisp line of light cutting down through the center of the darkness. As we begin to descend, voices echo in our head. VIOLET (V.O.) I had this image of you, inside of me, like a part of me. We move past a shelf filled with hatboxes and handbags. It is a woman's closet. CORKY (V.O.) You planned this whole thing, didn't you? CAESAR (V.O.) Where's the fucking money? We glide over the tightly packed hangers, close enough to feel the different fabrics and descend past the dresses to the racks of high heels. VIOLET (V.O.) We make our own choices, we pay our own prices. CAESAR (V.O.) All part of the business. VIOLET (V.O.) All part of the business. CORKY (V.O.) What choice? We slide along the delicate taper of a stiletto heel and reach the bottom of the closet, where we find a pair of black Dr. Martens boots that are tied together with a white rope. VIOLET (V.O.) I want out. We move up the boots and we see it is a woman who is bound, lying motionless on the floor of the closet, the rope coiling tightly around her wrists. The crack at the bottom of the door lights her face. She is gagged and unconscious, a trickle of blood running down her forehead. Her name is CORKY. VIOLET (V.O.) Like a part of me. CUT TO: INT. ELEVATOR - DAY Leaning against the back of the elevator is Corky, a very butch-looking woman with short hair and a black leather jacket. She is a lesbian and wants people to know it. As the doors begin to slide shut, a woman yells. WOMAN Wait! Hold the elevator. Corky pushes the "open" button. A couple steps into the elevator. His name is CAESAR, a middle-aged Italian, wearing an expensive suit and sunglasses. She is VIOLET; a piece of sexual candy that would melt in your mouth. She hears it again, a guttural sound. CORKY Thanks again for this opportunity, Mr. Bianchinni. Goodbye. She hangs up the phone and walks toward the wall. As she gets closer, we hear a bed rocking, tapping against the wall. The man's breathing grows more and more labored until finally it swells -- DISSOLVING INTO: INT. BATHROOM - MORNING The whining motor of a high-powered drain-rod. The spiral cable whips wildly, spiraling deeper into the tub drain, black goo splattering everywhere. The machine is so loud Corky almost cannot hear someone pounding on the apartment door. Killing the motor, she stands and goes to the door. Behind the door is Violet, wearing jeans, a white T-shirt and cowboy boots. VIOLET Hi. My name is Violet. We sort of met in the elevator -- CORKY Yeah, sure. I'm Corky. VIOLET I heard you working in here and I just wondered if you'd like a cup of coffee? She is holding two cups of coffee: one black, one with cream. CORKY Sure. Come on in. Give me a minute. Violet steps inside as Corky goes back to the bathroom to wash off the drain dreck. VIOLET What happened to Rajeev? Corky calls from the bathroom, scrubbing her hands vigorously. CORKY Who? VIOLET Rajeev, the man who usually works on the building. CORKY Oh, he went home to India, but as far as I know he'll be back. She wipes her hands on her overalls, returning to the main room. VIOLET So this is temporary for you? CORKY Pretty much. One day at a time. Violet hands her the cup of black coffee. VIOLET I guessed you were straight black. CORKY Good guess. They both sip from the piping hot mugs. CORKY Mmmm ... thanks, I needed this. VIOLET My pleasure ... but to be honest, I did have a slightly ulterior motive here. I was wondering if I could ask a small favor? CORKY A favor? VIOLET Yeah, see, I'm kind of a night person, so I was wondering if it wasn't a terrible inconvenience if you could wait a bit before using power tools. CORKY Oh, I'm sorry -- VIOLET No, it isn't your fault. The walls here are just so thin. CORKY Are they really? VIOLET Yes, it really causes problems. Sometimes it's like you're in the same room. But if it's too much trouble, I understand ... CORKY No, no trouble. There's other work to do. VIOLET You're doing everything yourself? CORKY Yeah. VIOLET That is so amazing. I'm in awe of people who can fix things. My dad was like that. We never had anything new. Whenever something broke he would open it up, tinker with it and it would work. His hands were magic. She looks at Corky's hands cupped around the mug. VIOLET Yeah ... I bet your car is twenty years old. Corky smiles. CORKY Truck. VIOLET Truck. Of course. CORKY '63 Chevy. VIOLET I knew it. VIOLET SIPS VIOLET So, how do you know the owner, Mr. Bianchinni? CORKY I don't, really. I was referred to him. VIOLET Oh, really. Corky suddenly feels she has revealed something. CORKY Do you know him? VIOLET No, but Caesar does. He likes him. Says he's a good Italian. CORKY Caesar is your husband? VIOLET Oh no, no. I'm not the marrying kind. Smiling, she says nothing else. VIOLET I should be going. You can drop the cup off anytime. CORKY Thanks. VIOLET My pleasure. CORKY watches her leave. EXT. THE WATERING HOLE - NIGHT A dirty bar hidden away on a dark street, its cracked, moon- white sign the only evidence it exists. Corky's truck swings into a space in front of a couple of large motorcycles. She flips her collar and heads for the door. INT. THE WATERING HOLE - NIGHT The smell of leather and cigarette smoke fills Corky's nose as she crosses to the bar. BARTENDER Well, well ... Corky sits as the fat bartender waddles over. BARTENDER Been awhile, Cork. CORKY Five years, two months, sixteen days. How you doing, Sue? Corky puts a cigarette in her mouth and lights it. SUE Like shit. Now that we're all caught up, how about a drink? Sue opens the refrigerator and pulls out two Old Styles. CORKY Thanks. They click the bottles together and drink. SUE You got a job yet? CORKY Yeah. Some plumbing, painting and shit. Sue laughs. SUE I mean a J-O-B. A real job. CORKY Not for me, Sue. I'm straight and narrow. I'm just here to get laid or drunk and hopefully both. Corky gets off the stool. CORKY Thanks for the beer. Looking around, she sees a woman alone at one of the back tables. Through the smoky din, she bears a slight resemblance to Violet. The woman is dressed all in black, including a leather jacket. Smiling, Corky slides into the chair beside her. There is no one smoother. CORKY Hi. WOMAN Hello. CORKY You know ... that outfit would look great on my bedroom floor. The woman smiles just as someone taps Corky on the shoulder. She turns and is face-to-face with a large bull of a woman in a heavy leather Chicago Police jacket. She is more wide than fat. WOMAN COP Hey, Jesse. What's happening here? CORKY Nothing ... yet. WOMAN COP Who's this? Her coat opens as she puts her hands on her hips. A service revolver is clipped to her belt. She squints at Corky, her head nodding in recognition. WOMAN COP Wait, I know you. CORKY I don't think so. WOMAN COP I didn't know you were out. Corky smiles at the woman in black. CORKY When you get tired of Cagney and Lacey, come find me. She heads for the exit. EXT. CITY STREET - NIGHT The neighborhood would be politely described as "rough." Corky's truck does not stand out parked alone on the littered street. INT. CORKY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT It is a hole but it is home. Corky is lying on her futon staring up at the ceiling, a beer resting on her stomach; a folk singer quietly croons from the radio. We see the ceiling, a circle of light hovering over the small desk lamp. We move in on the spot, which slowly fills up the screen until there is nothing but the white light. Suddenly a wet paint roller loaded with white paint cuts a swath across the ceiling. MATCH CUT TO: INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - DAY Corky is painting the ceiling. The folk ballad has become an angry Riot Grrrl anthem. She is working hard, the roller sucking back and forth. Sweat covers her face. Dropping the roller down, she reloads it in the tray when the phone rings. She stops and answers it. CORKY Hello? Oh, hi, Mr. Bianchinni ... yes, everything is going fine. I got the tub drain all cleaned out. She listens for a moment. CORKY What apartment? She glances at the main wall. CORKY All right, all right, I guess I could take a look. Yeah, you're welcome, goodbye. She hangs up and looks again at the wall, feeling... curious. INT. HALL - NIGHT Corky knocks and after a moment Violet opens the door. She seems surprised. VIOLET Oh no. Shit. I didn't know he would call you. God, you must think |I'm a total nuisance. CORKY Not exactly. VIOLET I'm sorry, I usually would call Rajeev, but I didn't know what to do so I called Mr. Bianchinni. CORKY He said you lost something. VIOLET Yeah, come on in. She steps back and Corky walks inside. INT. CAESAR'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Violet leads her through the apartment. It is expensively furnished with very masculine tastes; a lot of gray and black leather. VIOLET I was doing some dishes and just as I pulled the stopper my earring fell in. Corky looks at her blankly. VIOLET It's one of my favorites. That's why I got upset. I know it probably seems ridiculous to you. An eyebrow goes up. VIOLET I'm sorry, look, forget it. I shouldn't have called... CORKY I told Bianchinni I would take a look. Is it that sink? Violet nods. She opens the sink cabinet and pulls out a pair of channel locks from her back pocket. The teeth of the channel locks open and bite onto the pressure nut. CORKY Do you have a pot or a bucket? VIOLET Sure. She hands one down to her. Corky slides it under the curved pipe. As she works, Corky feels herself staring at Violet, at the hem of her dress curving tightly around her thighs. Water begins to trickle into the pan. The nut slides loose and Corky tips the trap. Water splashes into the pan with a soft metal "tink." VIOLET Did you find it? Corky fishes into gray water and pulls out the earring. Violet screams, a huge smile on her face, half-falling as she tries to hug Corky. VIOLET I can't believe it! You did it! Corky leans back under and replaces the trap. VIOLET Thank you so much. You have to let me pay you something -- CORKY No. Mr. Bianchinni asked me to do it. I did it. Corky checks the drain by running the water. VIOLET If you won't take money, how about a drink? It's getting late. You can't work all night. Corky eyes her for a moment. CORKY Okay, one drink. VIOLET What do you want? CORKY A beer? VIOLET A beer. Of course. She smiles and turns to the bar. VIOLET Sit down. Corky sits on the black leather couch and Violet returns with two bottles of Heineken. Corky sneers. VIOLET Thanks again. They clink the bottles and swig. VIOLET You seem uncomfortable. Do I make you nervous, Corky? CORKY No. She looks at Violet, then takes another long pull on the bottle. VIOLET Thirsty, maybe. Violet smiles, her eyes again talking for her. CORKY Curious, maybe. VIOLET Curious? That's funny, I'm feeling a bit curious myself right now. Violet notices the tattoo on Corky's arm. VIOLET That's a great tattoo. She reaches over and touches it. VIOLET Beautiful labrys. Corky is a bit suprised that she knows what it is. She nods, rubbing it as if trying to hide it. VIOLET Are you surprised that I know what it is? CORKY Maybe. VIOLET I have a tattoo, would you like to see it? She moves closer, sliding over the leather cushions as she opens the front of her dress. VIOLET A woman in upstate New York did it for me. She is not wearing a bra. VIOLET Here. Do you like it? Set against the soft white skin of her breast is a bright green-stemmed violet. VIOLET It took her all day to do it. She promised me it wouldn't hurt, but it was sore for a long time after. I couldn't even touch it. Corky looks up from Violet's breast to her dark eyes. VIOLET But now I love the way it feels. She runs her fingers softly over the slightly scarred skin. VIOLET Here, touch it. Corky feels the blood pounding in her ears as Violet takes her hand and places it on her breast. CORKY What are you doing? Violet looks at her. VIOLET Isn't it obvious? I'm trying to seduce you. CORKY Why? VIOLET Because I want to. I've wanted to since I first saw you in the elevator. Corky watches her, trying to figure her out even as her thumb presses into Violet's nipple. Inhaling sharply, Violet closes her eyes; she can feel Corky staring at her. VIOLET You don't believe me. But I can prove it to you. She takes Corky's wrist and begins pulling her hand down her body. VIOLET You can't believe me because of what you see ... She forces Corky's hand between her legs, up under her dress. VIOLET But you can believe what you feel. Violet opens her eyes, a wanton smile on her lips. VIOLET You see ... I've been thinking about you all day. Corky's forearm flexes and Violet moans. With both hands, Violet takes hold of Corky's forearm. CORKY You planned this whole thing? Violet's head swims; she is unable to breathe. CORKY You dropped that earring down the drain on purpose, didn't you? VIOLET If I say yes, will you take your hand away? CORKY No. VIOLET ... yes. Now it is Corky who smiles. Violet shivers, her thighs rubbing, her hips thrusting against Corky's hand. VIOLET Please, Corky ... please ... Her eyes barely open. VIOLET ... kiss me. In a single motion, Corky takes hold of the back of her neck and covers Violet's open mouth with her own. With her hand still stuffed between Violet's legs, Corky lays her back onto the couch as the kiss becomes more -- More desperate, more hungry until -- We hear the front door unlock and open. CAESAR Violet? Violet's eyes pop open and she pushes Corky back. CAESAR Violet, you home? They scramble to compose themselves. VIOLET Yeah. In here, C. He comes around the corner and in the dim light sees the two figures sitting close on the couch. CAESAR What's this? He mistakes Corky for a man. CAESAR What the fuck is this? Violet stands as Caesar barrels toward the couch. VIOLET I didn't expect -- CAESAR What the fuck is going on? Corky stands and turns, Caesar suddenly realizing that she is a woman. CAESAR Oh, shit ... VIOLET Caesar, this is Corky. Corky, Caesar. CAESAR I'm sorry, Christ, I thought ... it's fucking dark in here. He reaches to the wall for the lights. VIOLET She is working for Bianchinni. Caesar extends his hand. CAESAR Oh, right, right. Don mentioned that to me. Hi, welcome to the family. Corky shakes his hand. CAESAR You're helping Rajeev? CORKY No. Rajeev's in India. VIOLET She's doing the work herself. CAESAR No shit. Bianchinni hired you? You know he's a good friend of mine. |Family, really. CORKY That's what Violet said. He looks at her as if he knows something. CAESAR So, you just got out? VIOLET Jesus, Caesar! CAESAR What? It ain't no big fuckin' deal. I know who Don hires. Did you know he did time himself? Corky shakes her head. CAESAR Thirteen fucking years. See, there ain't no secrets here. Corky doesn't like this man. CAESAR How many'd you do? CORKY Five. He whistles. CAESAR Not bad. What for? VIOLET That's none of your goddamn business, Caesar. CAESAR You're right. You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to. I just hope you understand you're among good people here. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a thick fold of money and peels several hundreds. Corky stares at it. CAESAR Come on, come on. if you understand what I'm talking about you're going to take the money. if you don't, I'm going to have to worry about you. Corky takes it. Caesar smiles. CAESAR Good. I hate to worry. I got ulcers. CORKY I should be going. CAESAR What? How about a drink? CORKY My brushes, I have to clean my brushes. Thanks, though. CAESAR Another time. CORKY Sure. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - NIGHT Close on the paintbrush, Corky's fingers pushing through and separating the black bristles under the running water. When the brush is clean, she flicks it dry and resets the edge. She goes to the sink to wash her hands when she stops, noticing her left hand. It is the hand that was between Violet's legs. She is about to smell her finger when she sees herself in the mirror. CORKY What are you doing? She drops her hand. CORKY What am I doing? I'm fucking up, that's what I'm doing. She scrubs her hands clean. EXT. PARKING LOT - NIGHT It is late, the area burnished with amber street light. Corky walks from the building to her truck. She climbs inside and slides the key into the ignition, when suddenly the passenger door opens and -- Violet gets in. Stunned, Corky stares at her. VIOLET I had to see you. CORKY Look, I don't think this is a good idea. VIOLET I wanted to apologize. CORKY Don't apologize, please. I can't stand women who apologize for wanting sex. Violet smiles. VIOLET I'm not apologizing for what I did -- She slides across the seat. VIOLET I'm apologizing for what I didn't do. She kisses Corky, and if Corky is trying to resist, we can't tell. The windshield is beginning to steam when Violet, panting, breaks the kiss. VIOLET Do you have a bed somewhere? Unable to speak, Corky reaches over and starts the engine. INT. CORKY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT The sex. There is nothing flower-scented or out-of-focus about it. It is sweaty, slippery, body-grinding, bed-squeaking lesbian sex -- Pungent and potent -- And when it is over, neither woman can move. Finally, Corky's eyes flutter open. CORKY I can see again. Violet smiles. Slowly, Corky gets up and goes to the fridge. She grabs a beer and presses it to her sweating forebead. After a moment, she lowers it, gently pressing the cold can elsewhere. Eyes closed, she lets out a long "Ahh." Violet hears the sizzle-pop of the beer as Corky returns to the bed. She holds the beer to Violet's lips and tilts the can, watching Violet's throat as she drinks. Violet's eyes open. VIOLET ... I needed that. CORKY Tell me about it. Corky hands her the beer as Violet sits up a bit. CORKY Caesar's Mafia, isn't he? VIOLET You have to ask? CORKY No. VIOLET Funny, nobody calls it that anymore. Caesar calls it "The |Business." CORKY How did you meet him? VIOLET They took over a club I was working at. Caesar started managing it. CORKY He's a launderer? VIOLET Basically. CORKY How long have you been with him? VIOLET Almost five years. CORKY Five years is a long time. VIOLET Yes, it is. Corky stares at her beer. She knows what Violet is thinking. CORKY The redistribution of wealth. VIOLET What? CORKY Isn't that what you wanted to know? What I did time for? VIOLET The redistribution of wealth? CORKY That's what I tell someone when I'm trying to get them in my bed. VIOLET I'm already in your bed. CORKY My cellmate would say she did her time for getting caught. She was always more honest than me. Corky sips her beer. CORKY I started stealing when I was little. We were piss-poor, which is not an excuse, just a fact. It isn't like her to talk about this, especially with someone she just met. CORKY The first time I remember so vividly. A bunch of us kids were at Waxman's Drugstore, when Mr. Waxman, who was a mean old prick, always worrying about us robbing him, dropped a roll of quarters. We can almost hear the coins tinkling on the tile floor. CORKY I can still hear that sound, those quarters, because right then something clicked inside of me. Some instinct took over and as everyone, including Waxman, dove down, I reached up and emptied the cash register. Violet smiles. She likes this woman. CORKY I gave most of the money to my mom. I told her I found it at the trainyard. She was so happy she cried, calling me her lucky charm. Fifteen years later, I guess my luck ran out. Sbe swallows that with beer. CORKY Sometimes I tell myself that I didn't have a choice, that stealing was surviving. Usually I can admit that's bullshit. I did it because it was a way out. It was easy and I was good at it, real good. She glances at Violet. CORKY I don't usually talk this much. I guess I have been rehabilitated. Violet laughs. VIOLET You didn't have to tell me if you didn't want to. CORKY I guess I wanted to. VIOLET I'm glad you did. CORKY So am I. EXT. PARKING LOT DAY Corky gets out of her truck carrying her tools. Grinning like someone who has been well-laid, she whistles off to work. EXT. LOBBY - DAY Between the main doors she sees a man. His name is SHELLY and he is an overdressed accountant. He is very nervous, talking to someone through the intercom. SHELLY I know he's gone. Please. I have to talk to you. Fiddling with her keys, Corky recognizes the voice that answers him. VIOLET (V.O.) What do you want, Shelly? Shelly glances over his shoulder at Corky, answering in a hushed voice. SHELLY I have to leave. Tonight. For a moment the intercom is silent. Then the door buzzes and Shelly pushes inside. Corky follows him to the elevator. INT. ELEVATOR - DAY Corky glares at Shelly and begins pumping the trigger of her circular saw. Shelly hides behind his sunglasses, watching the elevator numbers go up. The doors open and he scurries out. INT. HALL - DAY She watches him enter Caesar's apartment, her smile now completely gone. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - DAY It is later. Through the wall we listen to the same sound as before of two people making love. We drop down and find Corky's brush, still wet with paint, abandoned in her tray. INT. BEDROOM - DAY Her face glistening with sweat, Violet climaxes, letting the orgasm spread through her like melting butter. VIOLET I had this image of you, inside of me ... She flattens her palms against the soft cradle of her pelvis. VIOLET Like a part of me ... As she opens her eyes, we see that her lover is Corky. Violet watches as she gets off the bed and begins to get dressed. VIOLET You are so beautiful. Corky does not answer as she yanks her pants on. Violet sits up. She can feel that something is wrong. VIOLET What's wrong? CORKY Nothing. Violet pulls the sheet around her. VIOLET Yes there is. I felt it this morning when I brought you the coffee. CORKY Shit, here we go. VIOLET You didn't want to see me, did you? CORKY If there is one thing I can't stand about sleeping with women, it's all the fucking mind reading. VIOLET What are you afraid of? CORKY I'm not afraid of anything. VIOLET I don't understand - ? CORKY I know! You can't understand, because we're different, Violet. We're different. VIOLET We're not that different, Corky. CORKY How can you sit in that bed and say that? VIOLET Because it's the truth. CORKY Let me guess. This is where you tell me that what matters is on the inside. That inside you, there is a little dyke just like me? VIOLET Oh no, she's nothing like you. She's a lot smarter than you. CORKY Is that what her daddy tells her? VIOLET I know what I am. I don't need to have it tattooed on my shoulder. CORKY What are you saying? That you don't have sex with men? VIOLET I don't. CORKY For Christ's sake, Violet! I heard you! Thin walls, remember? VIOLET What you heard wasn't sex. CORKY What the fuck was it? VIOLET All my life, everyone has been telling me that when I have sex, I'm not really having sex. Not real sex. But they're wrong. I know what is and isn't sex and what you heard was definitely not sex. CORKY What was it then? VIOLET Work. That knocks Corky back. VIOLET You made certain choices in your life that you paid for. You said you made them because you were good at something and it was easy. Do you think you're the only one that's good at something? Violet stare pins Corky to the wall. VIOLET We make our own choices and we pay our own prices. I think we're more alike than you want to admit. CORKY What about that guy this morning? VIOLET You mean Shelly? CORKY Don't tell me, you're a workaholic. VIOLET No. Shelly knows what I am. He saw me in a bar with another woman. CORKY I suppose he just wants to watch. That's all Violet can take. VIOLET Fuck it! I think you better leave. CORKY I think so, too. Violet turns away. VIOLET Try not to steal anything on the way out. That stings but Corky walks out without looking back. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - NIGHT It is dark now. Corky is standing above the paint tray that has skinned over. She picks up the brush. It is dry with paint. CORKY Shit. She throws the brush across the room. EXT. CAESAR'S APARTMENT BUILDING - DAY A green-and-white street sign juts in the foreground of Caesar's upscale apartment building. The sign reads: "FRANKLIN STREET." EXT. PARKING LOT - DAY The rusty Chevy glides to a stop in a parking space near the service entrance. In its payload is a boxed bathroom vanity and sink. Corky climbs out of the cab and into the back, unhooking the bungee cords that hold down the boxes. She looks up as a black Lincoln Town Car screeches into a spot not far from her truck. THREE SERIOUS-LOOKING MEN get out, leading a fourth, Shelly. He is the only one who seems to notice Corky. They enter the building, the door closing behind them. INT. BATHROOM - DAY Corky's legs jut out from the old wicker vanity as she finishes detaching its anchors and pipe work. She stands, giving it a yank and pulling it away from the wall, when voices begin to filter in from the next-door apartment. She listens - a rising string of warbling sobs drowned out by an angry voice. ANGRY VOICE Shut the fuck up! You piece of shit! We hear a scream. ANGRY VOICE You're going to tell us! You're going to fuckin' tell us! just a matter of fuckin' time! Each sentence is punctuated with grunts and thuds. ANGRY VOICE Where is it? Where the fuck is it?! We begin to close in on Corky as she listens to each thud, watching something that disturbs her. ANGRY VOICE You shit! You piece of shit! With each thud the water in the toilet shimmers like a struck cymbal. As we move closer, the sound swells until -- MATCH CUT TO: INT. CAESAR'S BATHROOM DAY Where blood splatters the toilet, heavy drops hitting the water and spreading like inverted mushroom clouds. ANGRY VOICE Did that hurt? News flash, fucko: I'm just getting started. The angry voice belongs to JOHNNIE MARZZONE. Shelly is kneeling in front of the toilet, hands tied behind his back with electrical wire. Johnnie Marzzone is a flashy young man in Armani slacks, silk shirt and silver-tipped cowboy boots. His tie is tucked in, as if torture were a fine-dining experience. Caesar and two other men are crammed in the small bathroom. JOHNNIE You got nerve trying to fuck us! Nobody fucks me! Nobody fucks my father! Nobody! Nobody! Shelly screams as Jobnnie repeatedly rams his face into the toilet. CAESAR Whoa, whoa. Come on, he's making too much noise.

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Bound Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS BOUND Written by Larry & Andy Wachowski FADE IN: Inside a closet. It is a large closet with double doors, a crisp line of light cutting down through the center of the darkness. As we begin to descend, voices echo in our head. VIOLET (V.O.) I had this image of you, inside of me, like a part of me. We move past a shelf filled with hatboxes and handbags. It is a woman's closet. CORKY (V.O.) You planned this whole thing, didn't you? CAESAR (V.O.) Where's the fucking money? We glide over the tightly packed hangers, close enough to feel the different fabrics and descend past the dresses to the racks of high heels. VIOLET (V.O.) We make our own choices, we pay our own prices. CAESAR (V.O.) All part of the business. VIOLET (V.O.) All part of the business. CORKY (V.O.) What choice? We slide along the delicate taper of a stiletto heel and reach the bottom of the closet, where we find a pair of black Dr. Martens boots that are tied together with a white rope. VIOLET (V.O.) I want out. We move up the boots and we see it is a woman who is bound, lying motionless on the floor of the closet, the rope coiling tightly around her wrists. The crack at the bottom of the door lights her face. She is gagged and unconscious, a trickle of blood running down her forehead. Her name is CORKY. VIOLET (V.O.) Like a part of me. CUT TO: INT. ELEVATOR - DAY Leaning against the back of the elevator is Corky, a very butch-looking woman with short hair and a black leather jacket. She is a lesbian and wants people to know it. As the doors begin to slide shut, a woman yells. WOMAN Wait! Hold the elevator. Corky pushes the "open" button. A couple steps into the elevator. His name is CAESAR, a middle-aged Italian, wearing an expensive suit and sunglasses. She is VIOLET; a piece of sexual candy that would melt in your mouth. She hears it again, a guttural sound. CORKY Thanks again for this opportunity, Mr. Bianchinni. Goodbye. She hangs up the phone and walks toward the wall. As she gets closer, we hear a bed rocking, tapping against the wall. The man's breathing grows more and more labored until finally it swells -- DISSOLVING INTO: INT. BATHROOM - MORNING The whining motor of a high-powered drain-rod. The spiral cable whips wildly, spiraling deeper into the tub drain, black goo splattering everywhere. The machine is so loud Corky almost cannot hear someone pounding on the apartment door. Killing the motor, she stands and goes to the door. Behind the door is Violet, wearing jeans, a white T-shirt and cowboy boots. VIOLET Hi. My name is Violet. We sort of met in the elevator -- CORKY Yeah, sure. I'm Corky. VIOLET I heard you working in here and I just wondered if you'd like a cup of coffee? She is holding two cups of coffee: one black, one with cream. CORKY Sure. Come on in. Give me a minute. Violet steps inside as Corky goes back to the bathroom to wash off the drain dreck. VIOLET What happened to Rajeev? Corky calls from the bathroom, scrubbing her hands vigorously. CORKY Who? VIOLET Rajeev, the man who usually works on the building. CORKY Oh, he went home to India, but as far as I know he'll be back. She wipes her hands on her overalls, returning to the main room. VIOLET So this is temporary for you? CORKY Pretty much. One day at a time. Violet hands her the cup of black coffee. VIOLET I guessed you were straight black. CORKY Good guess. They both sip from the piping hot mugs. CORKY Mmmm ... thanks, I needed this. VIOLET My pleasure ... but to be honest, I did have a slightly ulterior motive here. I was wondering if I could ask a small favor? CORKY A favor? VIOLET Yeah, see, I'm kind of a night person, so I was wondering if it wasn't a terrible inconvenience if you could wait a bit before using power tools. CORKY Oh, I'm sorry -- VIOLET No, it isn't your fault. The walls here are just so thin. CORKY Are they really? VIOLET Yes, it really causes problems. Sometimes it's like you're in the same room. But if it's too much trouble, I understand ... CORKY No, no trouble. There's other work to do. VIOLET You're doing everything yourself? CORKY Yeah. VIOLET That is so amazing. I'm in awe of people who can fix things. My dad was like that. We never had anything new. Whenever something broke he would open it up, tinker with it and it would work. His hands were magic. She looks at Corky's hands cupped around the mug. VIOLET Yeah ... I bet your car is twenty years old. Corky smiles. CORKY Truck. VIOLET Truck. Of course. CORKY '63 Chevy. VIOLET I knew it. VIOLET SIPS VIOLET So, how do you know the owner, Mr. Bianchinni? CORKY I don't, really. I was referred to him. VIOLET Oh, really. Corky suddenly feels she has revealed something. CORKY Do you know him? VIOLET No, but Caesar does. He likes him. Says he's a good Italian. CORKY Caesar is your husband? VIOLET Oh no, no. I'm not the marrying kind. Smiling, she says nothing else. VIOLET I should be going. You can drop the cup off anytime. CORKY Thanks. VIOLET My pleasure. CORKY watches her leave. EXT. THE WATERING HOLE - NIGHT A dirty bar hidden away on a dark street, its cracked, moon- white sign the only evidence it exists. Corky's truck swings into a space in front of a couple of large motorcycles. She flips her collar and heads for the door. INT. THE WATERING HOLE - NIGHT The smell of leather and cigarette smoke fills Corky's nose as she crosses to the bar. BARTENDER Well, well ... Corky sits as the fat bartender waddles over. BARTENDER Been awhile, Cork. CORKY Five years, two months, sixteen days. How you doing, Sue? Corky puts a cigarette in her mouth and lights it. SUE Like shit. Now that we're all caught up, how about a drink? Sue opens the refrigerator and pulls out two Old Styles. CORKY Thanks. They click the bottles together and drink. SUE You got a job yet? CORKY Yeah. Some plumbing, painting and shit. Sue laughs. SUE I mean a J-O-B. A real job. CORKY Not for me, Sue. I'm straight and narrow. I'm just here to get laid or drunk and hopefully both. Corky gets off the stool. CORKY Thanks for the beer. Looking around, she sees a woman alone at one of the back tables. Through the smoky din, she bears a slight resemblance to Violet. The woman is dressed all in black, including a leather jacket. Smiling, Corky slides into the chair beside her. There is no one smoother. CORKY Hi. WOMAN Hello. CORKY You know ... that outfit would look great on my bedroom floor. The woman smiles just as someone taps Corky on the shoulder. She turns and is face-to-face with a large bull of a woman in a heavy leather Chicago Police jacket. She is more wide than fat. WOMAN COP Hey, Jesse. What's happening here? CORKY Nothing ... yet. WOMAN COP Who's this? Her coat opens as she puts her hands on her hips. A service revolver is clipped to her belt. She squints at Corky, her head nodding in recognition. WOMAN COP Wait, I know you. CORKY I don't think so. WOMAN COP I didn't know you were out. Corky smiles at the woman in black. CORKY When you get tired of Cagney and Lacey, come find me. She heads for the exit. EXT. CITY STREET - NIGHT The neighborhood would be politely described as "rough." Corky's truck does not stand out parked alone on the littered street. INT. CORKY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT It is a hole but it is home. Corky is lying on her futon staring up at the ceiling, a beer resting on her stomach; a folk singer quietly croons from the radio. We see the ceiling, a circle of light hovering over the small desk lamp. We move in on the spot, which slowly fills up the screen until there is nothing but the white light. Suddenly a wet paint roller loaded with white paint cuts a swath across the ceiling. MATCH CUT TO: INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - DAY Corky is painting the ceiling. The folk ballad has become an angry Riot Grrrl anthem. She is working hard, the roller sucking back and forth. Sweat covers her face. Dropping the roller down, she reloads it in the tray when the phone rings. She stops and answers it. CORKY Hello? Oh, hi, Mr. Bianchinni ... yes, everything is going fine. I got the tub drain all cleaned out. She listens for a moment. CORKY What apartment? She glances at the main wall. CORKY All right, all right, I guess I could take a look. Yeah, you're welcome, goodbye. She hangs up and looks again at the wall, feeling... curious. INT. HALL - NIGHT Corky knocks and after a moment Violet opens the door. She seems surprised. VIOLET Oh no. Shit. I didn't know he would call you. God, you must think |I'm a total nuisance. CORKY Not exactly. VIOLET I'm sorry, I usually would call Rajeev, but I didn't know what to do so I called Mr. Bianchinni. CORKY He said you lost something. VIOLET Yeah, come on in. She steps back and Corky walks inside. INT. CAESAR'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Violet leads her through the apartment. It is expensively furnished with very masculine tastes; a lot of gray and black leather. VIOLET I was doing some dishes and just as I pulled the stopper my earring fell in. Corky looks at her blankly. VIOLET It's one of my favorites. That's why I got upset. I know it probably seems ridiculous to you. An eyebrow goes up. VIOLET I'm sorry, look, forget it. I shouldn't have called... CORKY I told Bianchinni I would take a look. Is it that sink? Violet nods. She opens the sink cabinet and pulls out a pair of channel locks from her back pocket. The teeth of the channel locks open and bite onto the pressure nut. CORKY Do you have a pot or a bucket? VIOLET Sure. She hands one down to her. Corky slides it under the curved pipe. As she works, Corky feels herself staring at Violet, at the hem of her dress curving tightly around her thighs. Water begins to trickle into the pan. The nut slides loose and Corky tips the trap. Water splashes into the pan with a soft metal "tink." VIOLET Did you find it? Corky fishes into gray water and pulls out the earring. Violet screams, a huge smile on her face, half-falling as she tries to hug Corky. VIOLET I can't believe it! You did it! Corky leans back under and replaces the trap. VIOLET Thank you so much. You have to let me pay you something -- CORKY No. Mr. Bianchinni asked me to do it. I did it. Corky checks the drain by running the water. VIOLET If you won't take money, how about a drink? It's getting late. You can't work all night. Corky eyes her for a moment. CORKY Okay, one drink. VIOLET What do you want? CORKY A beer? VIOLET A beer. Of course. She smiles and turns to the bar. VIOLET Sit down. Corky sits on the black leather couch and Violet returns with two bottles of Heineken. Corky sneers. VIOLET Thanks again. They clink the bottles and swig. VIOLET You seem uncomfortable. Do I make you nervous, Corky? CORKY No. She looks at Violet, then takes another long pull on the bottle. VIOLET Thirsty, maybe. Violet smiles, her eyes again talking for her. CORKY Curious, maybe. VIOLET Curious? That's funny, I'm feeling a bit curious myself right now. Violet notices the tattoo on Corky's arm. VIOLET That's a great tattoo. She reaches over and touches it. VIOLET Beautiful labrys. Corky is a bit suprised that she knows what it is. She nods, rubbing it as if trying to hide it. VIOLET Are you surprised that I know what it is? CORKY Maybe. VIOLET I have a tattoo, would you like to see it? She moves closer, sliding over the leather cushions as she opens the front of her dress. VIOLET A woman in upstate New York did it for me. She is not wearing a bra. VIOLET Here. Do you like it? Set against the soft white skin of her breast is a bright green-stemmed violet. VIOLET It took her all day to do it. She promised me it wouldn't hurt, but it was sore for a long time after. I couldn't even touch it. Corky looks up from Violet's breast to her dark eyes. VIOLET But now I love the way it feels. She runs her fingers softly over the slightly scarred skin. VIOLET Here, touch it. Corky feels the blood pounding in her ears as Violet takes her hand and places it on her breast. CORKY What are you doing? Violet looks at her. VIOLET Isn't it obvious? I'm trying to seduce you. CORKY Why? VIOLET Because I want to. I've wanted to since I first saw you in the elevator. Corky watches her, trying to figure her out even as her thumb presses into Violet's nipple. Inhaling sharply, Violet closes her eyes; she can feel Corky staring at her. VIOLET You don't believe me. But I can prove it to you. She takes Corky's wrist and begins pulling her hand down her body. VIOLET You can't believe me because of what you see ... She forces Corky's hand between her legs, up under her dress. VIOLET But you can believe what you feel. Violet opens her eyes, a wanton smile on her lips. VIOLET You see ... I've been thinking about you all day. Corky's forearm flexes and Violet moans. With both hands, Violet takes hold of Corky's forearm. CORKY You planned this whole thing? Violet's head swims; she is unable to breathe. CORKY You dropped that earring down the drain on purpose, didn't you? VIOLET If I say yes, will you take your hand away? CORKY No. VIOLET ... yes. Now it is Corky who smiles. Violet shivers, her thighs rubbing, her hips thrusting against Corky's hand. VIOLET Please, Corky ... please ... Her eyes barely open. VIOLET ... kiss me. In a single motion, Corky takes hold of the back of her neck and covers Violet's open mouth with her own. With her hand still stuffed between Violet's legs, Corky lays her back onto the couch as the kiss becomes more -- More desperate, more hungry until -- We hear the front door unlock and open. CAESAR Violet? Violet's eyes pop open and she pushes Corky back. CAESAR Violet, you home? They scramble to compose themselves. VIOLET Yeah. In here, C. He comes around the corner and in the dim light sees the two figures sitting close on the couch. CAESAR What's this? He mistakes Corky for a man. CAESAR What the fuck is this? Violet stands as Caesar barrels toward the couch. VIOLET I didn't expect -- CAESAR What the fuck is going on? Corky stands and turns, Caesar suddenly realizing that she is a woman. CAESAR Oh, shit ... VIOLET Caesar, this is Corky. Corky, Caesar. CAESAR I'm sorry, Christ, I thought ... it's fucking dark in here. He reaches to the wall for the lights. VIOLET She is working for Bianchinni. Caesar extends his hand. CAESAR Oh, right, right. Don mentioned that to me. Hi, welcome to the family. Corky shakes his hand. CAESAR You're helping Rajeev? CORKY No. Rajeev's in India. VIOLET She's doing the work herself. CAESAR No shit. Bianchinni hired you? You know he's a good friend of mine. |Family, really. CORKY That's what Violet said. He looks at her as if he knows something. CAESAR So, you just got out? VIOLET Jesus, Caesar! CAESAR What? It ain't no big fuckin' deal. I know who Don hires. Did you know he did time himself? Corky shakes her head. CAESAR Thirteen fucking years. See, there ain't no secrets here. Corky doesn't like this man. CAESAR How many'd you do? CORKY Five. He whistles. CAESAR Not bad. What for? VIOLET That's none of your goddamn business, Caesar. CAESAR You're right. You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to. I just hope you understand you're among good people here. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a thick fold of money and peels several hundreds. Corky stares at it. CAESAR Come on, come on. if you understand what I'm talking about you're going to take the money. if you don't, I'm going to have to worry about you. Corky takes it. Caesar smiles. CAESAR Good. I hate to worry. I got ulcers. CORKY I should be going. CAESAR What? How about a drink? CORKY My brushes, I have to clean my brushes. Thanks, though. CAESAR Another time. CORKY Sure. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - NIGHT Close on the paintbrush, Corky's fingers pushing through and separating the black bristles under the running water. When the brush is clean, she flicks it dry and resets the edge. She goes to the sink to wash her hands when she stops, noticing her left hand. It is the hand that was between Violet's legs. She is about to smell her finger when she sees herself in the mirror. CORKY What are you doing? She drops her hand. CORKY What am I doing? I'm fucking up, that's what I'm doing. She scrubs her hands clean. EXT. PARKING LOT - NIGHT It is late, the area burnished with amber street light. Corky walks from the building to her truck. She climbs inside and slides the key into the ignition, when suddenly the passenger door opens and -- Violet gets in. Stunned, Corky stares at her. VIOLET I had to see you. CORKY Look, I don't think this is a good idea. VIOLET I wanted to apologize. CORKY Don't apologize, please. I can't stand women who apologize for wanting sex. Violet smiles. VIOLET I'm not apologizing for what I did -- She slides across the seat. VIOLET I'm apologizing for what I didn't do. She kisses Corky, and if Corky is trying to resist, we can't tell. The windshield is beginning to steam when Violet, panting, breaks the kiss. VIOLET Do you have a bed somewhere? Unable to speak, Corky reaches over and starts the engine. INT. CORKY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT The sex. There is nothing flower-scented or out-of-focus about it. It is sweaty, slippery, body-grinding, bed-squeaking lesbian sex -- Pungent and potent -- And when it is over, neither woman can move. Finally, Corky's eyes flutter open. CORKY I can see again. Violet smiles. Slowly, Corky gets up and goes to the fridge. She grabs a beer and presses it to her sweating forebead. After a moment, she lowers it, gently pressing the cold can elsewhere. Eyes closed, she lets out a long "Ahh." Violet hears the sizzle-pop of the beer as Corky returns to the bed. She holds the beer to Violet's lips and tilts the can, watching Violet's throat as she drinks. Violet's eyes open. VIOLET ... I needed that. CORKY Tell me about it. Corky hands her the beer as Violet sits up a bit. CORKY Caesar's Mafia, isn't he? VIOLET You have to ask? CORKY No. VIOLET Funny, nobody calls it that anymore. Caesar calls it "The |Business." CORKY How did you meet him? VIOLET They took over a club I was working at. Caesar started managing it. CORKY He's a launderer? VIOLET Basically. CORKY How long have you been with him? VIOLET Almost five years. CORKY Five years is a long time. VIOLET Yes, it is. Corky stares at her beer. She knows what Violet is thinking. CORKY The redistribution of wealth. VIOLET What? CORKY Isn't that what you wanted to know? What I did time for? VIOLET The redistribution of wealth? CORKY That's what I tell someone when I'm trying to get them in my bed. VIOLET I'm already in your bed. CORKY My cellmate would say she did her time for getting caught. She was always more honest than me. Corky sips her beer. CORKY I started stealing when I was little. We were piss-poor, which is not an excuse, just a fact. It isn't like her to talk about this, especially with someone she just met. CORKY The first time I remember so vividly. A bunch of us kids were at Waxman's Drugstore, when Mr. Waxman, who was a mean old prick, always worrying about us robbing him, dropped a roll of quarters. We can almost hear the coins tinkling on the tile floor. CORKY I can still hear that sound, those quarters, because right then something clicked inside of me. Some instinct took over and as everyone, including Waxman, dove down, I reached up and emptied the cash register. Violet smiles. She likes this woman. CORKY I gave most of the money to my mom. I told her I found it at the trainyard. She was so happy she cried, calling me her lucky charm. Fifteen years later, I guess my luck ran out. Sbe swallows that with beer. CORKY Sometimes I tell myself that I didn't have a choice, that stealing was surviving. Usually I can admit that's bullshit. I did it because it was a way out. It was easy and I was good at it, real good. She glances at Violet. CORKY I don't usually talk this much. I guess I have been rehabilitated. Violet laughs. VIOLET You didn't have to tell me if you didn't want to. CORKY I guess I wanted to. VIOLET I'm glad you did. CORKY So am I. EXT. PARKING LOT DAY Corky gets out of her truck carrying her tools. Grinning like someone who has been well-laid, she whistles off to work. EXT. LOBBY - DAY Between the main doors she sees a man. His name is SHELLY and he is an overdressed accountant. He is very nervous, talking to someone through the intercom. SHELLY I know he's gone. Please. I have to talk to you. Fiddling with her keys, Corky recognizes the voice that answers him. VIOLET (V.O.) What do you want, Shelly? Shelly glances over his shoulder at Corky, answering in a hushed voice. SHELLY I have to leave. Tonight. For a moment the intercom is silent. Then the door buzzes and Shelly pushes inside. Corky follows him to the elevator. INT. ELEVATOR - DAY Corky glares at Shelly and begins pumping the trigger of her circular saw. Shelly hides behind his sunglasses, watching the elevator numbers go up. The doors open and he scurries out. INT. HALL - DAY She watches him enter Caesar's apartment, her smile now completely gone. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - DAY It is later. Through the wall we listen to the same sound as before of two people making love. We drop down and find Corky's brush, still wet with paint, abandoned in her tray. INT. BEDROOM - DAY Her face glistening with sweat, Violet climaxes, letting the orgasm spread through her like melting butter. VIOLET I had this image of you, inside of me ... She flattens her palms against the soft cradle of her pelvis. VIOLET Like a part of me ... As she opens her eyes, we see that her lover is Corky. Violet watches as she gets off the bed and begins to get dressed. VIOLET You are so beautiful. Corky does not answer as she yanks her pants on. Violet sits up. She can feel that something is wrong. VIOLET What's wrong? CORKY Nothing. Violet pulls the sheet around her. VIOLET Yes there is. I felt it this morning when I brought you the coffee. CORKY Shit, here we go. VIOLET You didn't want to see me, did you? CORKY If there is one thing I can't stand about sleeping with women, it's all the fucking mind reading. VIOLET What are you afraid of? CORKY I'm not afraid of anything. VIOLET I don't understand - ? CORKY I know! You can't understand, because we're different, Violet. We're different. VIOLET We're not that different, Corky. CORKY How can you sit in that bed and say that? VIOLET Because it's the truth. CORKY Let me guess. This is where you tell me that what matters is on the inside. That inside you, there is a little dyke just like me? VIOLET Oh no, she's nothing like you. She's a lot smarter than you. CORKY Is that what her daddy tells her? VIOLET I know what I am. I don't need to have it tattooed on my shoulder. CORKY What are you saying? That you don't have sex with men? VIOLET I don't. CORKY For Christ's sake, Violet! I heard you! Thin walls, remember? VIOLET What you heard wasn't sex. CORKY What the fuck was it? VIOLET All my life, everyone has been telling me that when I have sex, I'm not really having sex. Not real sex. But they're wrong. I know what is and isn't sex and what you heard was definitely not sex. CORKY What was it then? VIOLET Work. That knocks Corky back. VIOLET You made certain choices in your life that you paid for. You said you made them because you were good at something and it was easy. Do you think you're the only one that's good at something? Violet stare pins Corky to the wall. VIOLET We make our own choices and we pay our own prices. I think we're more alike than you want to admit. CORKY What about that guy this morning? VIOLET You mean Shelly? CORKY Don't tell me, you're a workaholic. VIOLET No. Shelly knows what I am. He saw me in a bar with another woman. CORKY I suppose he just wants to watch. That's all Violet can take. VIOLET Fuck it! I think you better leave. CORKY I think so, too. Violet turns away. VIOLET Try not to steal anything on the way out. That stings but Corky walks out without looking back. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - NIGHT It is dark now. Corky is standing above the paint tray that has skinned over. She picks up the brush. It is dry with paint. CORKY Shit. She throws the brush across the room. EXT. CAESAR'S APARTMENT BUILDING - DAY A green-and-white street sign juts in the foreground of Caesar's upscale apartment building. The sign reads: "FRANKLIN STREET." EXT. PARKING LOT - DAY The rusty Chevy glides to a stop in a parking space near the service entrance. In its payload is a boxed bathroom vanity and sink. Corky climbs out of the cab and into the back, unhooking the bungee cords that hold down the boxes. She looks up as a black Lincoln Town Car screeches into a spot not far from her truck. THREE SERIOUS-LOOKING MEN get out, leading a fourth, Shelly. He is the only one who seems to notice Corky. They enter the building, the door closing behind them. INT. BATHROOM - DAY Corky's legs jut out from the old wicker vanity as she finishes detaching its anchors and pipe work. She stands, giving it a yank and pulling it away from the wall, when voices begin to filter in from the next-door apartment. She listens - a rising string of warbling sobs drowned out by an angry voice. ANGRY VOICE Shut the fuck up! You piece of shit! We hear a scream. ANGRY VOICE You're going to tell us! You're going to fuckin' tell us! just a matter of fuckin' time! Each sentence is punctuated with grunts and thuds. ANGRY VOICE Where is it? Where the fuck is it?! We begin to close in on Corky as she listens to each thud, watching something that disturbs her. ANGRY VOICE You shit! You piece of shit! With each thud the water in the toilet shimmers like a struck cymbal. As we move closer, the sound swells until -- MATCH CUT TO: INT. CAESAR'S BATHROOM DAY Where blood splatters the toilet, heavy drops hitting the water and spreading like inverted mushroom clouds. ANGRY VOICE Did that hurt? News flash, fucko: I'm just getting started. The angry voice belongs to JOHNNIE MARZZONE. Shelly is kneeling in front of the toilet, hands tied behind his back with electrical wire. Johnnie Marzzone is a flashy young man in Armani slacks, silk shirt and silver-tipped cowboy boots. His tie is tucked in, as if torture were a fine-dining experience. Caesar and two other men are crammed in the small bathroom. JOHNNIE You got nerve trying to fuck us! Nobody fucks me! Nobody fucks my father! Nobody! Nobody! Shelly screams as Jobnnie repeatedly rams his face into the toilet. CAESAR Whoa, whoa. Come on, he's making too much noise.

goodbye

How many times the word 'goodbye' appears in the text?

Bound Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS BOUND Written by Larry & Andy Wachowski FADE IN: Inside a closet. It is a large closet with double doors, a crisp line of light cutting down through the center of the darkness. As we begin to descend, voices echo in our head. VIOLET (V.O.) I had this image of you, inside of me, like a part of me. We move past a shelf filled with hatboxes and handbags. It is a woman's closet. CORKY (V.O.) You planned this whole thing, didn't you? CAESAR (V.O.) Where's the fucking money? We glide over the tightly packed hangers, close enough to feel the different fabrics and descend past the dresses to the racks of high heels. VIOLET (V.O.) We make our own choices, we pay our own prices. CAESAR (V.O.) All part of the business. VIOLET (V.O.) All part of the business. CORKY (V.O.) What choice? We slide along the delicate taper of a stiletto heel and reach the bottom of the closet, where we find a pair of black Dr. Martens boots that are tied together with a white rope. VIOLET (V.O.) I want out. We move up the boots and we see it is a woman who is bound, lying motionless on the floor of the closet, the rope coiling tightly around her wrists. The crack at the bottom of the door lights her face. She is gagged and unconscious, a trickle of blood running down her forehead. Her name is CORKY. VIOLET (V.O.) Like a part of me. CUT TO: INT. ELEVATOR - DAY Leaning against the back of the elevator is Corky, a very butch-looking woman with short hair and a black leather jacket. She is a lesbian and wants people to know it. As the doors begin to slide shut, a woman yells. WOMAN Wait! Hold the elevator. Corky pushes the "open" button. A couple steps into the elevator. His name is CAESAR, a middle-aged Italian, wearing an expensive suit and sunglasses. She is VIOLET; a piece of sexual candy that would melt in your mouth. She hears it again, a guttural sound. CORKY Thanks again for this opportunity, Mr. Bianchinni. Goodbye. She hangs up the phone and walks toward the wall. As she gets closer, we hear a bed rocking, tapping against the wall. The man's breathing grows more and more labored until finally it swells -- DISSOLVING INTO: INT. BATHROOM - MORNING The whining motor of a high-powered drain-rod. The spiral cable whips wildly, spiraling deeper into the tub drain, black goo splattering everywhere. The machine is so loud Corky almost cannot hear someone pounding on the apartment door. Killing the motor, she stands and goes to the door. Behind the door is Violet, wearing jeans, a white T-shirt and cowboy boots. VIOLET Hi. My name is Violet. We sort of met in the elevator -- CORKY Yeah, sure. I'm Corky. VIOLET I heard you working in here and I just wondered if you'd like a cup of coffee? She is holding two cups of coffee: one black, one with cream. CORKY Sure. Come on in. Give me a minute. Violet steps inside as Corky goes back to the bathroom to wash off the drain dreck. VIOLET What happened to Rajeev? Corky calls from the bathroom, scrubbing her hands vigorously. CORKY Who? VIOLET Rajeev, the man who usually works on the building. CORKY Oh, he went home to India, but as far as I know he'll be back. She wipes her hands on her overalls, returning to the main room. VIOLET So this is temporary for you? CORKY Pretty much. One day at a time. Violet hands her the cup of black coffee. VIOLET I guessed you were straight black. CORKY Good guess. They both sip from the piping hot mugs. CORKY Mmmm ... thanks, I needed this. VIOLET My pleasure ... but to be honest, I did have a slightly ulterior motive here. I was wondering if I could ask a small favor? CORKY A favor? VIOLET Yeah, see, I'm kind of a night person, so I was wondering if it wasn't a terrible inconvenience if you could wait a bit before using power tools. CORKY Oh, I'm sorry -- VIOLET No, it isn't your fault. The walls here are just so thin. CORKY Are they really? VIOLET Yes, it really causes problems. Sometimes it's like you're in the same room. But if it's too much trouble, I understand ... CORKY No, no trouble. There's other work to do. VIOLET You're doing everything yourself? CORKY Yeah. VIOLET That is so amazing. I'm in awe of people who can fix things. My dad was like that. We never had anything new. Whenever something broke he would open it up, tinker with it and it would work. His hands were magic. She looks at Corky's hands cupped around the mug. VIOLET Yeah ... I bet your car is twenty years old. Corky smiles. CORKY Truck. VIOLET Truck. Of course. CORKY '63 Chevy. VIOLET I knew it. VIOLET SIPS VIOLET So, how do you know the owner, Mr. Bianchinni? CORKY I don't, really. I was referred to him. VIOLET Oh, really. Corky suddenly feels she has revealed something. CORKY Do you know him? VIOLET No, but Caesar does. He likes him. Says he's a good Italian. CORKY Caesar is your husband? VIOLET Oh no, no. I'm not the marrying kind. Smiling, she says nothing else. VIOLET I should be going. You can drop the cup off anytime. CORKY Thanks. VIOLET My pleasure. CORKY watches her leave. EXT. THE WATERING HOLE - NIGHT A dirty bar hidden away on a dark street, its cracked, moon- white sign the only evidence it exists. Corky's truck swings into a space in front of a couple of large motorcycles. She flips her collar and heads for the door. INT. THE WATERING HOLE - NIGHT The smell of leather and cigarette smoke fills Corky's nose as she crosses to the bar. BARTENDER Well, well ... Corky sits as the fat bartender waddles over. BARTENDER Been awhile, Cork. CORKY Five years, two months, sixteen days. How you doing, Sue? Corky puts a cigarette in her mouth and lights it. SUE Like shit. Now that we're all caught up, how about a drink? Sue opens the refrigerator and pulls out two Old Styles. CORKY Thanks. They click the bottles together and drink. SUE You got a job yet? CORKY Yeah. Some plumbing, painting and shit. Sue laughs. SUE I mean a J-O-B. A real job. CORKY Not for me, Sue. I'm straight and narrow. I'm just here to get laid or drunk and hopefully both. Corky gets off the stool. CORKY Thanks for the beer. Looking around, she sees a woman alone at one of the back tables. Through the smoky din, she bears a slight resemblance to Violet. The woman is dressed all in black, including a leather jacket. Smiling, Corky slides into the chair beside her. There is no one smoother. CORKY Hi. WOMAN Hello. CORKY You know ... that outfit would look great on my bedroom floor. The woman smiles just as someone taps Corky on the shoulder. She turns and is face-to-face with a large bull of a woman in a heavy leather Chicago Police jacket. She is more wide than fat. WOMAN COP Hey, Jesse. What's happening here? CORKY Nothing ... yet. WOMAN COP Who's this? Her coat opens as she puts her hands on her hips. A service revolver is clipped to her belt. She squints at Corky, her head nodding in recognition. WOMAN COP Wait, I know you. CORKY I don't think so. WOMAN COP I didn't know you were out. Corky smiles at the woman in black. CORKY When you get tired of Cagney and Lacey, come find me. She heads for the exit. EXT. CITY STREET - NIGHT The neighborhood would be politely described as "rough." Corky's truck does not stand out parked alone on the littered street. INT. CORKY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT It is a hole but it is home. Corky is lying on her futon staring up at the ceiling, a beer resting on her stomach; a folk singer quietly croons from the radio. We see the ceiling, a circle of light hovering over the small desk lamp. We move in on the spot, which slowly fills up the screen until there is nothing but the white light. Suddenly a wet paint roller loaded with white paint cuts a swath across the ceiling. MATCH CUT TO: INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - DAY Corky is painting the ceiling. The folk ballad has become an angry Riot Grrrl anthem. She is working hard, the roller sucking back and forth. Sweat covers her face. Dropping the roller down, she reloads it in the tray when the phone rings. She stops and answers it. CORKY Hello? Oh, hi, Mr. Bianchinni ... yes, everything is going fine. I got the tub drain all cleaned out. She listens for a moment. CORKY What apartment? She glances at the main wall. CORKY All right, all right, I guess I could take a look. Yeah, you're welcome, goodbye. She hangs up and looks again at the wall, feeling... curious. INT. HALL - NIGHT Corky knocks and after a moment Violet opens the door. She seems surprised. VIOLET Oh no. Shit. I didn't know he would call you. God, you must think |I'm a total nuisance. CORKY Not exactly. VIOLET I'm sorry, I usually would call Rajeev, but I didn't know what to do so I called Mr. Bianchinni. CORKY He said you lost something. VIOLET Yeah, come on in. She steps back and Corky walks inside. INT. CAESAR'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Violet leads her through the apartment. It is expensively furnished with very masculine tastes; a lot of gray and black leather. VIOLET I was doing some dishes and just as I pulled the stopper my earring fell in. Corky looks at her blankly. VIOLET It's one of my favorites. That's why I got upset. I know it probably seems ridiculous to you. An eyebrow goes up. VIOLET I'm sorry, look, forget it. I shouldn't have called... CORKY I told Bianchinni I would take a look. Is it that sink? Violet nods. She opens the sink cabinet and pulls out a pair of channel locks from her back pocket. The teeth of the channel locks open and bite onto the pressure nut. CORKY Do you have a pot or a bucket? VIOLET Sure. She hands one down to her. Corky slides it under the curved pipe. As she works, Corky feels herself staring at Violet, at the hem of her dress curving tightly around her thighs. Water begins to trickle into the pan. The nut slides loose and Corky tips the trap. Water splashes into the pan with a soft metal "tink." VIOLET Did you find it? Corky fishes into gray water and pulls out the earring. Violet screams, a huge smile on her face, half-falling as she tries to hug Corky. VIOLET I can't believe it! You did it! Corky leans back under and replaces the trap. VIOLET Thank you so much. You have to let me pay you something -- CORKY No. Mr. Bianchinni asked me to do it. I did it. Corky checks the drain by running the water. VIOLET If you won't take money, how about a drink? It's getting late. You can't work all night. Corky eyes her for a moment. CORKY Okay, one drink. VIOLET What do you want? CORKY A beer? VIOLET A beer. Of course. She smiles and turns to the bar. VIOLET Sit down. Corky sits on the black leather couch and Violet returns with two bottles of Heineken. Corky sneers. VIOLET Thanks again. They clink the bottles and swig. VIOLET You seem uncomfortable. Do I make you nervous, Corky? CORKY No. She looks at Violet, then takes another long pull on the bottle. VIOLET Thirsty, maybe. Violet smiles, her eyes again talking for her. CORKY Curious, maybe. VIOLET Curious? That's funny, I'm feeling a bit curious myself right now. Violet notices the tattoo on Corky's arm. VIOLET That's a great tattoo. She reaches over and touches it. VIOLET Beautiful labrys. Corky is a bit suprised that she knows what it is. She nods, rubbing it as if trying to hide it. VIOLET Are you surprised that I know what it is? CORKY Maybe. VIOLET I have a tattoo, would you like to see it? She moves closer, sliding over the leather cushions as she opens the front of her dress. VIOLET A woman in upstate New York did it for me. She is not wearing a bra. VIOLET Here. Do you like it? Set against the soft white skin of her breast is a bright green-stemmed violet. VIOLET It took her all day to do it. She promised me it wouldn't hurt, but it was sore for a long time after. I couldn't even touch it. Corky looks up from Violet's breast to her dark eyes. VIOLET But now I love the way it feels. She runs her fingers softly over the slightly scarred skin. VIOLET Here, touch it. Corky feels the blood pounding in her ears as Violet takes her hand and places it on her breast. CORKY What are you doing? Violet looks at her. VIOLET Isn't it obvious? I'm trying to seduce you. CORKY Why? VIOLET Because I want to. I've wanted to since I first saw you in the elevator. Corky watches her, trying to figure her out even as her thumb presses into Violet's nipple. Inhaling sharply, Violet closes her eyes; she can feel Corky staring at her. VIOLET You don't believe me. But I can prove it to you. She takes Corky's wrist and begins pulling her hand down her body. VIOLET You can't believe me because of what you see ... She forces Corky's hand between her legs, up under her dress. VIOLET But you can believe what you feel. Violet opens her eyes, a wanton smile on her lips. VIOLET You see ... I've been thinking about you all day. Corky's forearm flexes and Violet moans. With both hands, Violet takes hold of Corky's forearm. CORKY You planned this whole thing? Violet's head swims; she is unable to breathe. CORKY You dropped that earring down the drain on purpose, didn't you? VIOLET If I say yes, will you take your hand away? CORKY No. VIOLET ... yes. Now it is Corky who smiles. Violet shivers, her thighs rubbing, her hips thrusting against Corky's hand. VIOLET Please, Corky ... please ... Her eyes barely open. VIOLET ... kiss me. In a single motion, Corky takes hold of the back of her neck and covers Violet's open mouth with her own. With her hand still stuffed between Violet's legs, Corky lays her back onto the couch as the kiss becomes more -- More desperate, more hungry until -- We hear the front door unlock and open. CAESAR Violet? Violet's eyes pop open and she pushes Corky back. CAESAR Violet, you home? They scramble to compose themselves. VIOLET Yeah. In here, C. He comes around the corner and in the dim light sees the two figures sitting close on the couch. CAESAR What's this? He mistakes Corky for a man. CAESAR What the fuck is this? Violet stands as Caesar barrels toward the couch. VIOLET I didn't expect -- CAESAR What the fuck is going on? Corky stands and turns, Caesar suddenly realizing that she is a woman. CAESAR Oh, shit ... VIOLET Caesar, this is Corky. Corky, Caesar. CAESAR I'm sorry, Christ, I thought ... it's fucking dark in here. He reaches to the wall for the lights. VIOLET She is working for Bianchinni. Caesar extends his hand. CAESAR Oh, right, right. Don mentioned that to me. Hi, welcome to the family. Corky shakes his hand. CAESAR You're helping Rajeev? CORKY No. Rajeev's in India. VIOLET She's doing the work herself. CAESAR No shit. Bianchinni hired you? You know he's a good friend of mine. |Family, really. CORKY That's what Violet said. He looks at her as if he knows something. CAESAR So, you just got out? VIOLET Jesus, Caesar! CAESAR What? It ain't no big fuckin' deal. I know who Don hires. Did you know he did time himself? Corky shakes her head. CAESAR Thirteen fucking years. See, there ain't no secrets here. Corky doesn't like this man. CAESAR How many'd you do? CORKY Five. He whistles. CAESAR Not bad. What for? VIOLET That's none of your goddamn business, Caesar. CAESAR You're right. You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to. I just hope you understand you're among good people here. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a thick fold of money and peels several hundreds. Corky stares at it. CAESAR Come on, come on. if you understand what I'm talking about you're going to take the money. if you don't, I'm going to have to worry about you. Corky takes it. Caesar smiles. CAESAR Good. I hate to worry. I got ulcers. CORKY I should be going. CAESAR What? How about a drink? CORKY My brushes, I have to clean my brushes. Thanks, though. CAESAR Another time. CORKY Sure. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - NIGHT Close on the paintbrush, Corky's fingers pushing through and separating the black bristles under the running water. When the brush is clean, she flicks it dry and resets the edge. She goes to the sink to wash her hands when she stops, noticing her left hand. It is the hand that was between Violet's legs. She is about to smell her finger when she sees herself in the mirror. CORKY What are you doing? She drops her hand. CORKY What am I doing? I'm fucking up, that's what I'm doing. She scrubs her hands clean. EXT. PARKING LOT - NIGHT It is late, the area burnished with amber street light. Corky walks from the building to her truck. She climbs inside and slides the key into the ignition, when suddenly the passenger door opens and -- Violet gets in. Stunned, Corky stares at her. VIOLET I had to see you. CORKY Look, I don't think this is a good idea. VIOLET I wanted to apologize. CORKY Don't apologize, please. I can't stand women who apologize for wanting sex. Violet smiles. VIOLET I'm not apologizing for what I did -- She slides across the seat. VIOLET I'm apologizing for what I didn't do. She kisses Corky, and if Corky is trying to resist, we can't tell. The windshield is beginning to steam when Violet, panting, breaks the kiss. VIOLET Do you have a bed somewhere? Unable to speak, Corky reaches over and starts the engine. INT. CORKY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT The sex. There is nothing flower-scented or out-of-focus about it. It is sweaty, slippery, body-grinding, bed-squeaking lesbian sex -- Pungent and potent -- And when it is over, neither woman can move. Finally, Corky's eyes flutter open. CORKY I can see again. Violet smiles. Slowly, Corky gets up and goes to the fridge. She grabs a beer and presses it to her sweating forebead. After a moment, she lowers it, gently pressing the cold can elsewhere. Eyes closed, she lets out a long "Ahh." Violet hears the sizzle-pop of the beer as Corky returns to the bed. She holds the beer to Violet's lips and tilts the can, watching Violet's throat as she drinks. Violet's eyes open. VIOLET ... I needed that. CORKY Tell me about it. Corky hands her the beer as Violet sits up a bit. CORKY Caesar's Mafia, isn't he? VIOLET You have to ask? CORKY No. VIOLET Funny, nobody calls it that anymore. Caesar calls it "The |Business." CORKY How did you meet him? VIOLET They took over a club I was working at. Caesar started managing it. CORKY He's a launderer? VIOLET Basically. CORKY How long have you been with him? VIOLET Almost five years. CORKY Five years is a long time. VIOLET Yes, it is. Corky stares at her beer. She knows what Violet is thinking. CORKY The redistribution of wealth. VIOLET What? CORKY Isn't that what you wanted to know? What I did time for? VIOLET The redistribution of wealth? CORKY That's what I tell someone when I'm trying to get them in my bed. VIOLET I'm already in your bed. CORKY My cellmate would say she did her time for getting caught. She was always more honest than me. Corky sips her beer. CORKY I started stealing when I was little. We were piss-poor, which is not an excuse, just a fact. It isn't like her to talk about this, especially with someone she just met. CORKY The first time I remember so vividly. A bunch of us kids were at Waxman's Drugstore, when Mr. Waxman, who was a mean old prick, always worrying about us robbing him, dropped a roll of quarters. We can almost hear the coins tinkling on the tile floor. CORKY I can still hear that sound, those quarters, because right then something clicked inside of me. Some instinct took over and as everyone, including Waxman, dove down, I reached up and emptied the cash register. Violet smiles. She likes this woman. CORKY I gave most of the money to my mom. I told her I found it at the trainyard. She was so happy she cried, calling me her lucky charm. Fifteen years later, I guess my luck ran out. Sbe swallows that with beer. CORKY Sometimes I tell myself that I didn't have a choice, that stealing was surviving. Usually I can admit that's bullshit. I did it because it was a way out. It was easy and I was good at it, real good. She glances at Violet. CORKY I don't usually talk this much. I guess I have been rehabilitated. Violet laughs. VIOLET You didn't have to tell me if you didn't want to. CORKY I guess I wanted to. VIOLET I'm glad you did. CORKY So am I. EXT. PARKING LOT DAY Corky gets out of her truck carrying her tools. Grinning like someone who has been well-laid, she whistles off to work. EXT. LOBBY - DAY Between the main doors she sees a man. His name is SHELLY and he is an overdressed accountant. He is very nervous, talking to someone through the intercom. SHELLY I know he's gone. Please. I have to talk to you. Fiddling with her keys, Corky recognizes the voice that answers him. VIOLET (V.O.) What do you want, Shelly? Shelly glances over his shoulder at Corky, answering in a hushed voice. SHELLY I have to leave. Tonight. For a moment the intercom is silent. Then the door buzzes and Shelly pushes inside. Corky follows him to the elevator. INT. ELEVATOR - DAY Corky glares at Shelly and begins pumping the trigger of her circular saw. Shelly hides behind his sunglasses, watching the elevator numbers go up. The doors open and he scurries out. INT. HALL - DAY She watches him enter Caesar's apartment, her smile now completely gone. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - DAY It is later. Through the wall we listen to the same sound as before of two people making love. We drop down and find Corky's brush, still wet with paint, abandoned in her tray. INT. BEDROOM - DAY Her face glistening with sweat, Violet climaxes, letting the orgasm spread through her like melting butter. VIOLET I had this image of you, inside of me ... She flattens her palms against the soft cradle of her pelvis. VIOLET Like a part of me ... As she opens her eyes, we see that her lover is Corky. Violet watches as she gets off the bed and begins to get dressed. VIOLET You are so beautiful. Corky does not answer as she yanks her pants on. Violet sits up. She can feel that something is wrong. VIOLET What's wrong? CORKY Nothing. Violet pulls the sheet around her. VIOLET Yes there is. I felt it this morning when I brought you the coffee. CORKY Shit, here we go. VIOLET You didn't want to see me, did you? CORKY If there is one thing I can't stand about sleeping with women, it's all the fucking mind reading. VIOLET What are you afraid of? CORKY I'm not afraid of anything. VIOLET I don't understand - ? CORKY I know! You can't understand, because we're different, Violet. We're different. VIOLET We're not that different, Corky. CORKY How can you sit in that bed and say that? VIOLET Because it's the truth. CORKY Let me guess. This is where you tell me that what matters is on the inside. That inside you, there is a little dyke just like me? VIOLET Oh no, she's nothing like you. She's a lot smarter than you. CORKY Is that what her daddy tells her? VIOLET I know what I am. I don't need to have it tattooed on my shoulder. CORKY What are you saying? That you don't have sex with men? VIOLET I don't. CORKY For Christ's sake, Violet! I heard you! Thin walls, remember? VIOLET What you heard wasn't sex. CORKY What the fuck was it? VIOLET All my life, everyone has been telling me that when I have sex, I'm not really having sex. Not real sex. But they're wrong. I know what is and isn't sex and what you heard was definitely not sex. CORKY What was it then? VIOLET Work. That knocks Corky back. VIOLET You made certain choices in your life that you paid for. You said you made them because you were good at something and it was easy. Do you think you're the only one that's good at something? Violet stare pins Corky to the wall. VIOLET We make our own choices and we pay our own prices. I think we're more alike than you want to admit. CORKY What about that guy this morning? VIOLET You mean Shelly? CORKY Don't tell me, you're a workaholic. VIOLET No. Shelly knows what I am. He saw me in a bar with another woman. CORKY I suppose he just wants to watch. That's all Violet can take. VIOLET Fuck it! I think you better leave. CORKY I think so, too. Violet turns away. VIOLET Try not to steal anything on the way out. That stings but Corky walks out without looking back. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - NIGHT It is dark now. Corky is standing above the paint tray that has skinned over. She picks up the brush. It is dry with paint. CORKY Shit. She throws the brush across the room. EXT. CAESAR'S APARTMENT BUILDING - DAY A green-and-white street sign juts in the foreground of Caesar's upscale apartment building. The sign reads: "FRANKLIN STREET." EXT. PARKING LOT - DAY The rusty Chevy glides to a stop in a parking space near the service entrance. In its payload is a boxed bathroom vanity and sink. Corky climbs out of the cab and into the back, unhooking the bungee cords that hold down the boxes. She looks up as a black Lincoln Town Car screeches into a spot not far from her truck. THREE SERIOUS-LOOKING MEN get out, leading a fourth, Shelly. He is the only one who seems to notice Corky. They enter the building, the door closing behind them. INT. BATHROOM - DAY Corky's legs jut out from the old wicker vanity as she finishes detaching its anchors and pipe work. She stands, giving it a yank and pulling it away from the wall, when voices begin to filter in from the next-door apartment. She listens - a rising string of warbling sobs drowned out by an angry voice. ANGRY VOICE Shut the fuck up! You piece of shit! We hear a scream. ANGRY VOICE You're going to tell us! You're going to fuckin' tell us! just a matter of fuckin' time! Each sentence is punctuated with grunts and thuds. ANGRY VOICE Where is it? Where the fuck is it?! We begin to close in on Corky as she listens to each thud, watching something that disturbs her. ANGRY VOICE You shit! You piece of shit! With each thud the water in the toilet shimmers like a struck cymbal. As we move closer, the sound swells until -- MATCH CUT TO: INT. CAESAR'S BATHROOM DAY Where blood splatters the toilet, heavy drops hitting the water and spreading like inverted mushroom clouds. ANGRY VOICE Did that hurt? News flash, fucko: I'm just getting started. The angry voice belongs to JOHNNIE MARZZONE. Shelly is kneeling in front of the toilet, hands tied behind his back with electrical wire. Johnnie Marzzone is a flashy young man in Armani slacks, silk shirt and silver-tipped cowboy boots. His tie is tucked in, as if torture were a fine-dining experience. Caesar and two other men are crammed in the small bathroom. JOHNNIE You got nerve trying to fuck us! Nobody fucks me! Nobody fucks my father! Nobody! Nobody! Shelly screams as Jobnnie repeatedly rams his face into the toilet. CAESAR Whoa, whoa. Come on, he's making too much noise.

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Bound Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS BOUND Written by Larry & Andy Wachowski FADE IN: Inside a closet. It is a large closet with double doors, a crisp line of light cutting down through the center of the darkness. As we begin to descend, voices echo in our head. VIOLET (V.O.) I had this image of you, inside of me, like a part of me. We move past a shelf filled with hatboxes and handbags. It is a woman's closet. CORKY (V.O.) You planned this whole thing, didn't you? CAESAR (V.O.) Where's the fucking money? We glide over the tightly packed hangers, close enough to feel the different fabrics and descend past the dresses to the racks of high heels. VIOLET (V.O.) We make our own choices, we pay our own prices. CAESAR (V.O.) All part of the business. VIOLET (V.O.) All part of the business. CORKY (V.O.) What choice? We slide along the delicate taper of a stiletto heel and reach the bottom of the closet, where we find a pair of black Dr. Martens boots that are tied together with a white rope. VIOLET (V.O.) I want out. We move up the boots and we see it is a woman who is bound, lying motionless on the floor of the closet, the rope coiling tightly around her wrists. The crack at the bottom of the door lights her face. She is gagged and unconscious, a trickle of blood running down her forehead. Her name is CORKY. VIOLET (V.O.) Like a part of me. CUT TO: INT. ELEVATOR - DAY Leaning against the back of the elevator is Corky, a very butch-looking woman with short hair and a black leather jacket. She is a lesbian and wants people to know it. As the doors begin to slide shut, a woman yells. WOMAN Wait! Hold the elevator. Corky pushes the "open" button. A couple steps into the elevator. His name is CAESAR, a middle-aged Italian, wearing an expensive suit and sunglasses. She is VIOLET; a piece of sexual candy that would melt in your mouth. She hears it again, a guttural sound. CORKY Thanks again for this opportunity, Mr. Bianchinni. Goodbye. She hangs up the phone and walks toward the wall. As she gets closer, we hear a bed rocking, tapping against the wall. The man's breathing grows more and more labored until finally it swells -- DISSOLVING INTO: INT. BATHROOM - MORNING The whining motor of a high-powered drain-rod. The spiral cable whips wildly, spiraling deeper into the tub drain, black goo splattering everywhere. The machine is so loud Corky almost cannot hear someone pounding on the apartment door. Killing the motor, she stands and goes to the door. Behind the door is Violet, wearing jeans, a white T-shirt and cowboy boots. VIOLET Hi. My name is Violet. We sort of met in the elevator -- CORKY Yeah, sure. I'm Corky. VIOLET I heard you working in here and I just wondered if you'd like a cup of coffee? She is holding two cups of coffee: one black, one with cream. CORKY Sure. Come on in. Give me a minute. Violet steps inside as Corky goes back to the bathroom to wash off the drain dreck. VIOLET What happened to Rajeev? Corky calls from the bathroom, scrubbing her hands vigorously. CORKY Who? VIOLET Rajeev, the man who usually works on the building. CORKY Oh, he went home to India, but as far as I know he'll be back. She wipes her hands on her overalls, returning to the main room. VIOLET So this is temporary for you? CORKY Pretty much. One day at a time. Violet hands her the cup of black coffee. VIOLET I guessed you were straight black. CORKY Good guess. They both sip from the piping hot mugs. CORKY Mmmm ... thanks, I needed this. VIOLET My pleasure ... but to be honest, I did have a slightly ulterior motive here. I was wondering if I could ask a small favor? CORKY A favor? VIOLET Yeah, see, I'm kind of a night person, so I was wondering if it wasn't a terrible inconvenience if you could wait a bit before using power tools. CORKY Oh, I'm sorry -- VIOLET No, it isn't your fault. The walls here are just so thin. CORKY Are they really? VIOLET Yes, it really causes problems. Sometimes it's like you're in the same room. But if it's too much trouble, I understand ... CORKY No, no trouble. There's other work to do. VIOLET You're doing everything yourself? CORKY Yeah. VIOLET That is so amazing. I'm in awe of people who can fix things. My dad was like that. We never had anything new. Whenever something broke he would open it up, tinker with it and it would work. His hands were magic. She looks at Corky's hands cupped around the mug. VIOLET Yeah ... I bet your car is twenty years old. Corky smiles. CORKY Truck. VIOLET Truck. Of course. CORKY '63 Chevy. VIOLET I knew it. VIOLET SIPS VIOLET So, how do you know the owner, Mr. Bianchinni? CORKY I don't, really. I was referred to him. VIOLET Oh, really. Corky suddenly feels she has revealed something. CORKY Do you know him? VIOLET No, but Caesar does. He likes him. Says he's a good Italian. CORKY Caesar is your husband? VIOLET Oh no, no. I'm not the marrying kind. Smiling, she says nothing else. VIOLET I should be going. You can drop the cup off anytime. CORKY Thanks. VIOLET My pleasure. CORKY watches her leave. EXT. THE WATERING HOLE - NIGHT A dirty bar hidden away on a dark street, its cracked, moon- white sign the only evidence it exists. Corky's truck swings into a space in front of a couple of large motorcycles. She flips her collar and heads for the door. INT. THE WATERING HOLE - NIGHT The smell of leather and cigarette smoke fills Corky's nose as she crosses to the bar. BARTENDER Well, well ... Corky sits as the fat bartender waddles over. BARTENDER Been awhile, Cork. CORKY Five years, two months, sixteen days. How you doing, Sue? Corky puts a cigarette in her mouth and lights it. SUE Like shit. Now that we're all caught up, how about a drink? Sue opens the refrigerator and pulls out two Old Styles. CORKY Thanks. They click the bottles together and drink. SUE You got a job yet? CORKY Yeah. Some plumbing, painting and shit. Sue laughs. SUE I mean a J-O-B. A real job. CORKY Not for me, Sue. I'm straight and narrow. I'm just here to get laid or drunk and hopefully both. Corky gets off the stool. CORKY Thanks for the beer. Looking around, she sees a woman alone at one of the back tables. Through the smoky din, she bears a slight resemblance to Violet. The woman is dressed all in black, including a leather jacket. Smiling, Corky slides into the chair beside her. There is no one smoother. CORKY Hi. WOMAN Hello. CORKY You know ... that outfit would look great on my bedroom floor. The woman smiles just as someone taps Corky on the shoulder. She turns and is face-to-face with a large bull of a woman in a heavy leather Chicago Police jacket. She is more wide than fat. WOMAN COP Hey, Jesse. What's happening here? CORKY Nothing ... yet. WOMAN COP Who's this? Her coat opens as she puts her hands on her hips. A service revolver is clipped to her belt. She squints at Corky, her head nodding in recognition. WOMAN COP Wait, I know you. CORKY I don't think so. WOMAN COP I didn't know you were out. Corky smiles at the woman in black. CORKY When you get tired of Cagney and Lacey, come find me. She heads for the exit. EXT. CITY STREET - NIGHT The neighborhood would be politely described as "rough." Corky's truck does not stand out parked alone on the littered street. INT. CORKY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT It is a hole but it is home. Corky is lying on her futon staring up at the ceiling, a beer resting on her stomach; a folk singer quietly croons from the radio. We see the ceiling, a circle of light hovering over the small desk lamp. We move in on the spot, which slowly fills up the screen until there is nothing but the white light. Suddenly a wet paint roller loaded with white paint cuts a swath across the ceiling. MATCH CUT TO: INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - DAY Corky is painting the ceiling. The folk ballad has become an angry Riot Grrrl anthem. She is working hard, the roller sucking back and forth. Sweat covers her face. Dropping the roller down, she reloads it in the tray when the phone rings. She stops and answers it. CORKY Hello? Oh, hi, Mr. Bianchinni ... yes, everything is going fine. I got the tub drain all cleaned out. She listens for a moment. CORKY What apartment? She glances at the main wall. CORKY All right, all right, I guess I could take a look. Yeah, you're welcome, goodbye. She hangs up and looks again at the wall, feeling... curious. INT. HALL - NIGHT Corky knocks and after a moment Violet opens the door. She seems surprised. VIOLET Oh no. Shit. I didn't know he would call you. God, you must think |I'm a total nuisance. CORKY Not exactly. VIOLET I'm sorry, I usually would call Rajeev, but I didn't know what to do so I called Mr. Bianchinni. CORKY He said you lost something. VIOLET Yeah, come on in. She steps back and Corky walks inside. INT. CAESAR'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Violet leads her through the apartment. It is expensively furnished with very masculine tastes; a lot of gray and black leather. VIOLET I was doing some dishes and just as I pulled the stopper my earring fell in. Corky looks at her blankly. VIOLET It's one of my favorites. That's why I got upset. I know it probably seems ridiculous to you. An eyebrow goes up. VIOLET I'm sorry, look, forget it. I shouldn't have called... CORKY I told Bianchinni I would take a look. Is it that sink? Violet nods. She opens the sink cabinet and pulls out a pair of channel locks from her back pocket. The teeth of the channel locks open and bite onto the pressure nut. CORKY Do you have a pot or a bucket? VIOLET Sure. She hands one down to her. Corky slides it under the curved pipe. As she works, Corky feels herself staring at Violet, at the hem of her dress curving tightly around her thighs. Water begins to trickle into the pan. The nut slides loose and Corky tips the trap. Water splashes into the pan with a soft metal "tink." VIOLET Did you find it? Corky fishes into gray water and pulls out the earring. Violet screams, a huge smile on her face, half-falling as she tries to hug Corky. VIOLET I can't believe it! You did it! Corky leans back under and replaces the trap. VIOLET Thank you so much. You have to let me pay you something -- CORKY No. Mr. Bianchinni asked me to do it. I did it. Corky checks the drain by running the water. VIOLET If you won't take money, how about a drink? It's getting late. You can't work all night. Corky eyes her for a moment. CORKY Okay, one drink. VIOLET What do you want? CORKY A beer? VIOLET A beer. Of course. She smiles and turns to the bar. VIOLET Sit down. Corky sits on the black leather couch and Violet returns with two bottles of Heineken. Corky sneers. VIOLET Thanks again. They clink the bottles and swig. VIOLET You seem uncomfortable. Do I make you nervous, Corky? CORKY No. She looks at Violet, then takes another long pull on the bottle. VIOLET Thirsty, maybe. Violet smiles, her eyes again talking for her. CORKY Curious, maybe. VIOLET Curious? That's funny, I'm feeling a bit curious myself right now. Violet notices the tattoo on Corky's arm. VIOLET That's a great tattoo. She reaches over and touches it. VIOLET Beautiful labrys. Corky is a bit suprised that she knows what it is. She nods, rubbing it as if trying to hide it. VIOLET Are you surprised that I know what it is? CORKY Maybe. VIOLET I have a tattoo, would you like to see it? She moves closer, sliding over the leather cushions as she opens the front of her dress. VIOLET A woman in upstate New York did it for me. She is not wearing a bra. VIOLET Here. Do you like it? Set against the soft white skin of her breast is a bright green-stemmed violet. VIOLET It took her all day to do it. She promised me it wouldn't hurt, but it was sore for a long time after. I couldn't even touch it. Corky looks up from Violet's breast to her dark eyes. VIOLET But now I love the way it feels. She runs her fingers softly over the slightly scarred skin. VIOLET Here, touch it. Corky feels the blood pounding in her ears as Violet takes her hand and places it on her breast. CORKY What are you doing? Violet looks at her. VIOLET Isn't it obvious? I'm trying to seduce you. CORKY Why? VIOLET Because I want to. I've wanted to since I first saw you in the elevator. Corky watches her, trying to figure her out even as her thumb presses into Violet's nipple. Inhaling sharply, Violet closes her eyes; she can feel Corky staring at her. VIOLET You don't believe me. But I can prove it to you. She takes Corky's wrist and begins pulling her hand down her body. VIOLET You can't believe me because of what you see ... She forces Corky's hand between her legs, up under her dress. VIOLET But you can believe what you feel. Violet opens her eyes, a wanton smile on her lips. VIOLET You see ... I've been thinking about you all day. Corky's forearm flexes and Violet moans. With both hands, Violet takes hold of Corky's forearm. CORKY You planned this whole thing? Violet's head swims; she is unable to breathe. CORKY You dropped that earring down the drain on purpose, didn't you? VIOLET If I say yes, will you take your hand away? CORKY No. VIOLET ... yes. Now it is Corky who smiles. Violet shivers, her thighs rubbing, her hips thrusting against Corky's hand. VIOLET Please, Corky ... please ... Her eyes barely open. VIOLET ... kiss me. In a single motion, Corky takes hold of the back of her neck and covers Violet's open mouth with her own. With her hand still stuffed between Violet's legs, Corky lays her back onto the couch as the kiss becomes more -- More desperate, more hungry until -- We hear the front door unlock and open. CAESAR Violet? Violet's eyes pop open and she pushes Corky back. CAESAR Violet, you home? They scramble to compose themselves. VIOLET Yeah. In here, C. He comes around the corner and in the dim light sees the two figures sitting close on the couch. CAESAR What's this? He mistakes Corky for a man. CAESAR What the fuck is this? Violet stands as Caesar barrels toward the couch. VIOLET I didn't expect -- CAESAR What the fuck is going on? Corky stands and turns, Caesar suddenly realizing that she is a woman. CAESAR Oh, shit ... VIOLET Caesar, this is Corky. Corky, Caesar. CAESAR I'm sorry, Christ, I thought ... it's fucking dark in here. He reaches to the wall for the lights. VIOLET She is working for Bianchinni. Caesar extends his hand. CAESAR Oh, right, right. Don mentioned that to me. Hi, welcome to the family. Corky shakes his hand. CAESAR You're helping Rajeev? CORKY No. Rajeev's in India. VIOLET She's doing the work herself. CAESAR No shit. Bianchinni hired you? You know he's a good friend of mine. |Family, really. CORKY That's what Violet said. He looks at her as if he knows something. CAESAR So, you just got out? VIOLET Jesus, Caesar! CAESAR What? It ain't no big fuckin' deal. I know who Don hires. Did you know he did time himself? Corky shakes her head. CAESAR Thirteen fucking years. See, there ain't no secrets here. Corky doesn't like this man. CAESAR How many'd you do? CORKY Five. He whistles. CAESAR Not bad. What for? VIOLET That's none of your goddamn business, Caesar. CAESAR You're right. You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to. I just hope you understand you're among good people here. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a thick fold of money and peels several hundreds. Corky stares at it. CAESAR Come on, come on. if you understand what I'm talking about you're going to take the money. if you don't, I'm going to have to worry about you. Corky takes it. Caesar smiles. CAESAR Good. I hate to worry. I got ulcers. CORKY I should be going. CAESAR What? How about a drink? CORKY My brushes, I have to clean my brushes. Thanks, though. CAESAR Another time. CORKY Sure. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - NIGHT Close on the paintbrush, Corky's fingers pushing through and separating the black bristles under the running water. When the brush is clean, she flicks it dry and resets the edge. She goes to the sink to wash her hands when she stops, noticing her left hand. It is the hand that was between Violet's legs. She is about to smell her finger when she sees herself in the mirror. CORKY What are you doing? She drops her hand. CORKY What am I doing? I'm fucking up, that's what I'm doing. She scrubs her hands clean. EXT. PARKING LOT - NIGHT It is late, the area burnished with amber street light. Corky walks from the building to her truck. She climbs inside and slides the key into the ignition, when suddenly the passenger door opens and -- Violet gets in. Stunned, Corky stares at her. VIOLET I had to see you. CORKY Look, I don't think this is a good idea. VIOLET I wanted to apologize. CORKY Don't apologize, please. I can't stand women who apologize for wanting sex. Violet smiles. VIOLET I'm not apologizing for what I did -- She slides across the seat. VIOLET I'm apologizing for what I didn't do. She kisses Corky, and if Corky is trying to resist, we can't tell. The windshield is beginning to steam when Violet, panting, breaks the kiss. VIOLET Do you have a bed somewhere? Unable to speak, Corky reaches over and starts the engine. INT. CORKY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT The sex. There is nothing flower-scented or out-of-focus about it. It is sweaty, slippery, body-grinding, bed-squeaking lesbian sex -- Pungent and potent -- And when it is over, neither woman can move. Finally, Corky's eyes flutter open. CORKY I can see again. Violet smiles. Slowly, Corky gets up and goes to the fridge. She grabs a beer and presses it to her sweating forebead. After a moment, she lowers it, gently pressing the cold can elsewhere. Eyes closed, she lets out a long "Ahh." Violet hears the sizzle-pop of the beer as Corky returns to the bed. She holds the beer to Violet's lips and tilts the can, watching Violet's throat as she drinks. Violet's eyes open. VIOLET ... I needed that. CORKY Tell me about it. Corky hands her the beer as Violet sits up a bit. CORKY Caesar's Mafia, isn't he? VIOLET You have to ask? CORKY No. VIOLET Funny, nobody calls it that anymore. Caesar calls it "The |Business." CORKY How did you meet him? VIOLET They took over a club I was working at. Caesar started managing it. CORKY He's a launderer? VIOLET Basically. CORKY How long have you been with him? VIOLET Almost five years. CORKY Five years is a long time. VIOLET Yes, it is. Corky stares at her beer. She knows what Violet is thinking. CORKY The redistribution of wealth. VIOLET What? CORKY Isn't that what you wanted to know? What I did time for? VIOLET The redistribution of wealth? CORKY That's what I tell someone when I'm trying to get them in my bed. VIOLET I'm already in your bed. CORKY My cellmate would say she did her time for getting caught. She was always more honest than me. Corky sips her beer. CORKY I started stealing when I was little. We were piss-poor, which is not an excuse, just a fact. It isn't like her to talk about this, especially with someone she just met. CORKY The first time I remember so vividly. A bunch of us kids were at Waxman's Drugstore, when Mr. Waxman, who was a mean old prick, always worrying about us robbing him, dropped a roll of quarters. We can almost hear the coins tinkling on the tile floor. CORKY I can still hear that sound, those quarters, because right then something clicked inside of me. Some instinct took over and as everyone, including Waxman, dove down, I reached up and emptied the cash register. Violet smiles. She likes this woman. CORKY I gave most of the money to my mom. I told her I found it at the trainyard. She was so happy she cried, calling me her lucky charm. Fifteen years later, I guess my luck ran out. Sbe swallows that with beer. CORKY Sometimes I tell myself that I didn't have a choice, that stealing was surviving. Usually I can admit that's bullshit. I did it because it was a way out. It was easy and I was good at it, real good. She glances at Violet. CORKY I don't usually talk this much. I guess I have been rehabilitated. Violet laughs. VIOLET You didn't have to tell me if you didn't want to. CORKY I guess I wanted to. VIOLET I'm glad you did. CORKY So am I. EXT. PARKING LOT DAY Corky gets out of her truck carrying her tools. Grinning like someone who has been well-laid, she whistles off to work. EXT. LOBBY - DAY Between the main doors she sees a man. His name is SHELLY and he is an overdressed accountant. He is very nervous, talking to someone through the intercom. SHELLY I know he's gone. Please. I have to talk to you. Fiddling with her keys, Corky recognizes the voice that answers him. VIOLET (V.O.) What do you want, Shelly? Shelly glances over his shoulder at Corky, answering in a hushed voice. SHELLY I have to leave. Tonight. For a moment the intercom is silent. Then the door buzzes and Shelly pushes inside. Corky follows him to the elevator. INT. ELEVATOR - DAY Corky glares at Shelly and begins pumping the trigger of her circular saw. Shelly hides behind his sunglasses, watching the elevator numbers go up. The doors open and he scurries out. INT. HALL - DAY She watches him enter Caesar's apartment, her smile now completely gone. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - DAY It is later. Through the wall we listen to the same sound as before of two people making love. We drop down and find Corky's brush, still wet with paint, abandoned in her tray. INT. BEDROOM - DAY Her face glistening with sweat, Violet climaxes, letting the orgasm spread through her like melting butter. VIOLET I had this image of you, inside of me ... She flattens her palms against the soft cradle of her pelvis. VIOLET Like a part of me ... As she opens her eyes, we see that her lover is Corky. Violet watches as she gets off the bed and begins to get dressed. VIOLET You are so beautiful. Corky does not answer as she yanks her pants on. Violet sits up. She can feel that something is wrong. VIOLET What's wrong? CORKY Nothing. Violet pulls the sheet around her. VIOLET Yes there is. I felt it this morning when I brought you the coffee. CORKY Shit, here we go. VIOLET You didn't want to see me, did you? CORKY If there is one thing I can't stand about sleeping with women, it's all the fucking mind reading. VIOLET What are you afraid of? CORKY I'm not afraid of anything. VIOLET I don't understand - ? CORKY I know! You can't understand, because we're different, Violet. We're different. VIOLET We're not that different, Corky. CORKY How can you sit in that bed and say that? VIOLET Because it's the truth. CORKY Let me guess. This is where you tell me that what matters is on the inside. That inside you, there is a little dyke just like me? VIOLET Oh no, she's nothing like you. She's a lot smarter than you. CORKY Is that what her daddy tells her? VIOLET I know what I am. I don't need to have it tattooed on my shoulder. CORKY What are you saying? That you don't have sex with men? VIOLET I don't. CORKY For Christ's sake, Violet! I heard you! Thin walls, remember? VIOLET What you heard wasn't sex. CORKY What the fuck was it? VIOLET All my life, everyone has been telling me that when I have sex, I'm not really having sex. Not real sex. But they're wrong. I know what is and isn't sex and what you heard was definitely not sex. CORKY What was it then? VIOLET Work. That knocks Corky back. VIOLET You made certain choices in your life that you paid for. You said you made them because you were good at something and it was easy. Do you think you're the only one that's good at something? Violet stare pins Corky to the wall. VIOLET We make our own choices and we pay our own prices. I think we're more alike than you want to admit. CORKY What about that guy this morning? VIOLET You mean Shelly? CORKY Don't tell me, you're a workaholic. VIOLET No. Shelly knows what I am. He saw me in a bar with another woman. CORKY I suppose he just wants to watch. That's all Violet can take. VIOLET Fuck it! I think you better leave. CORKY I think so, too. Violet turns away. VIOLET Try not to steal anything on the way out. That stings but Corky walks out without looking back. INT. EMPTY APARTMENT - NIGHT It is dark now. Corky is standing above the paint tray that has skinned over. She picks up the brush. It is dry with paint. CORKY Shit. She throws the brush across the room. EXT. CAESAR'S APARTMENT BUILDING - DAY A green-and-white street sign juts in the foreground of Caesar's upscale apartment building. The sign reads: "FRANKLIN STREET." EXT. PARKING LOT - DAY The rusty Chevy glides to a stop in a parking space near the service entrance. In its payload is a boxed bathroom vanity and sink. Corky climbs out of the cab and into the back, unhooking the bungee cords that hold down the boxes. She looks up as a black Lincoln Town Car screeches into a spot not far from her truck. THREE SERIOUS-LOOKING MEN get out, leading a fourth, Shelly. He is the only one who seems to notice Corky. They enter the building, the door closing behind them. INT. BATHROOM - DAY Corky's legs jut out from the old wicker vanity as she finishes detaching its anchors and pipe work. She stands, giving it a yank and pulling it away from the wall, when voices begin to filter in from the next-door apartment. She listens - a rising string of warbling sobs drowned out by an angry voice. ANGRY VOICE Shut the fuck up! You piece of shit! We hear a scream. ANGRY VOICE You're going to tell us! You're going to fuckin' tell us! just a matter of fuckin' time! Each sentence is punctuated with grunts and thuds. ANGRY VOICE Where is it? Where the fuck is it?! We begin to close in on Corky as she listens to each thud, watching something that disturbs her. ANGRY VOICE You shit! You piece of shit! With each thud the water in the toilet shimmers like a struck cymbal. As we move closer, the sound swells until -- MATCH CUT TO: INT. CAESAR'S BATHROOM DAY Where blood splatters the toilet, heavy drops hitting the water and spreading like inverted mushroom clouds. ANGRY VOICE Did that hurt? News flash, fucko: I'm just getting started. The angry voice belongs to JOHNNIE MARZZONE. Shelly is kneeling in front of the toilet, hands tied behind his back with electrical wire. Johnnie Marzzone is a flashy young man in Armani slacks, silk shirt and silver-tipped cowboy boots. His tie is tucked in, as if torture were a fine-dining experience. Caesar and two other men are crammed in the small bathroom. JOHNNIE You got nerve trying to fuck us! Nobody fucks me! Nobody fucks my father! Nobody! Nobody! Shelly screams as Jobnnie repeatedly rams his face into the toilet. CAESAR Whoa, whoa. Come on, he's making too much noise.

tunic

How many times the word 'tunic' appears in the text?

Brandon's death, that there had not been time for much intercourse between them and the Darcys, though Elizabeth had been greatly pleased with what she had seen of Mrs. Ferrars. Since the former's return from Bath, and after her experiences there of the other branch of the family, she could appreciate fully the immense superiority of the Edward Ferrars over their relations. Ferrars himself was too quiet, diffident, and reserved a man to recommend himself easily, but in his wife all recognized a woman of a rare and noble nature, distinguished alike by the sweetness of her character and by its strength. The Darcys rejoiced in the increased opportunities of meeting afforded by the presence of their guest, and various walks, drives and out-of-doors excursions were organized, for which the glorious weather of early June afforded every opportunity. The first diminution their party suffered was in the departure of Georgiana for London, which occurred on the seventeenth of the month. The visit had long been talked of, and Georgiana really looked forward with no little pleasure to seeing her old friends, for Caroline Bingley and Louisa took pains not to show to her, of whom they were exceedingly fond, the cold-hearted and worldly aspect of their dispositions; but when she found herself actually in the travelling carriage with Bingley, with her maid seated opposite, she felt, as she did every year, the sensation of leaving all that she cared for behind her, and of entering scenes alarming because unfamiliar. Bingley good-naturedly endeavoured to divert her in every way, talked of the pleasures awaiting her, and of the friends she would see in London, Kitty Bennet and Mrs. Annesley, besides her hostesses, and casually mentioned the possibility of her coming across Colonel Fitzwilliam. Georgiana had been prepared for this by Elizabeth, and had first shrunk from the idea; but afterwards became reconciled to the view put before her, that the first meeting, which must necessarily be painful, must come some time, and it would be best to get it over in a crowd, with a few ordinary words of greeting, which would put them on a comfortable footing for the future. She, therefore, made an effort to reply cheerfully to all Bingley's suggestions, and had not found the journey tedious when they drew up in Grosvenor Street in time for dinner on the third day. Caroline and Louisa could not make enough of her, and the evening was spent in talking over the plans they had formed for her amusement, and in detailing the engagements they had entered into. It soon appeared that the ball which Bingley had mentioned was on their list; for they were also acquainted with Mrs. George Knightley, whose entertainment it was, and had secured invitations from her for their brother and their young friend. Bingley inquired of the date of the ball, explaining how it affected his movements; and his sisters endeavoured to conceal their surprise on hearing that Miss Kitty Bennet was staying with the Knightleys. "I thought, when you spoke of coming to fetch her, Charles, that she was with her uncle and aunt in Gracechurch Street," said Miss Bingley. "To tell the truth, I was not very clear about it myself," returned Bingley. "Jane told me that she was going to stay over this ball, but whether she was with the Gardiners or the Knightleys I did not make out until just before we came away. It does not make a vast deal of difference, to my thinking." "There is certainly some difference; the Knightleys live in Portland Square, for one thing," replied Miss Bingley. "Do they? I am glad of that, for it means I shall not have to drive so far round to pick Kitty up," was Bingley's cheerful answer, and he moved away to speak to Mr. Hurst, leaving his sisters to their speculations as to how Miss Bennet could have come to know the George Knightleys. Georgiana did not know, but conjectured it was through Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner; and the ladies, though they refrained from showing their perplexity, were even more puzzled to account for the uncle who lived in Cheapside being acquainted with such people of fashion. "Have you seen anything of Fitzwilliam, Louisa?" inquired Bingley of his eldest sister, when he came to have his coffee-cup refilled. "Really, Charles, what a foolish question to ask," replied Mrs. Hurst, with affected carelessness. "Of course we see him frequently when he is in town." "Very good; I hope he will come round while I am here, and, if not, I shall get you to give me his direction, for I must certainly look him up before I go back." Mrs. Hurst made a vague answer, for both she and her sister were sincerely anxious to spare Georgiana any embarrassment, and they would not of their own accord have referred to Fitzwilliam until they knew how she was able to bear the mention of his name in public. Caroline immediately began speaking of another subject, but Georgiana, divining their intentions, felt that she must not indulge in a foolish sensibility which might give her friends a false impression of the state of things; so, summoning all her courage, she said, with a deep blush but a tolerably firm voice: "Yes, I hope my cousin may be in town this month. Elizabeth and my brother gave me many messages for him, if I should see him." She was conscious that the ladies were looking at her in surprise, but that Bingley noticed nothing but the amount of milk Louisa was putting in his coffee was a great help, and Caroline, the next moment, said quietly: "Oh, yes, no doubt he will call," which made it unnecessary for Georgiana to say any more. Bingley, having secured his cup, next produced a notebook and proceeded to write down the address of Fitzwilliam's lodgings and the name of his club, and, as an afterthought, the various engagements to which he had been pledged by his sisters. Georgiana found that Mrs. Hurst and Caroline were anxious she should go with them on the following day to call in Portman Square and meet Mrs. George Knightley. Mrs. Knightley, formerly Emma Woodhouse, had, since her marriage, been able to enjoy a larger measure of the social power and influence in the use of which she had always delighted. Since Mr. Woodhouse's death she had persuaded her husband to go into Parliament, and except for short visits to Donwell, they now lived entirely in London--an arrangement which just suited Emma, who had long desired some stir and variety in her life, after having spent so many unbroken years in a country village. Mr. Knightley still took the greatest interest in the farming of his property, and as soon as he was trustee to his sister-in-law, Mrs. John Knightley, for the estate of Hartfield, which had passed to her on her father's death, he found as much to do out of London as in it; while Emma, though fond of Donwell, had grown weary of the neighbourhood, and took a keen pleasure in forming round her in London a large circle of acquaintances, whom she loved to entertain, and in whose characters and careers she took the deepest interest. Mrs. Knightley's ball had become an annual fixture in the month of June, and this year she had a special incentive for giving it and for making it as gay as possible. At her sister's house she had met Mrs. Gardiner, whose husband had long been a close friend in business of Mr. John Knightley. Mrs. Gardiner was chaperoning a niece, Miss Catherine Bennet, a slender, blooming young girl, and pretty without being very striking; but Mrs. Knightley was impressed with her pleasing manners, and the enthusiasm with which she received the prospect of a theatre party which was being discussed on that occasion. It was the work of a moment for Emma to decide that she must ask her sister to bring Miss Bennet to the ball; but during the remainder of the evening, while she considered and observed, an improvement on the first idea suggested itself; Miss Bennet must be invited to stay in Portman Square for the great occasion. What better arrangement could there be? Isabella would not want to stay late, but young girls liked to dance till the last moment, and she, Emma, would have the benefit of Miss Bennet's help in the preparations, and would be able to introduce her to her partners beforehand. Yes, Miss Bennet was certainly very pretty, prettier than she had appeared at first--such a slim, upright figure, such a profusion of hair, such a delicate fairness of complexion; she would be a great success! It would be as delightful as when last year, the girl who was at the ball as Mrs. Knightley's special friend and prot g e had finished the evening triumphantly becoming engaged to the most eligible man present, Sir William Manvers. Emma felt a thrill at the recollection. The event had justified all her admiration for Sophia Lennox, and Mr. Knightley, who had been so sceptical, had been obliged to admit that sometimes people did marry those whom one had destined for them. There was no Sir William Manvers this year, it was true; but Miss Bennet was still young, and there was plenty of time for the right man to appear. In fact, it was really only her due that she should be properly taken out in London, in order that she might have every chance, and this her aunt, Mrs. Gardiner, was quite evidently not able to give her. What wonder that the upshot of these reflections was a courteous note to Mrs. Gardiner, begging for the pleasure of a visit from Miss Bennet as soon as her stay in Gracechurch Street should be concluded. Kitty was in transports of happiness when all was arranged and she found herself actually Mrs. George Knightley's guest, with a ball in prospect, and each day one round of visits and shopping and other delights, with intervals only long enough to admit of changing one elegant gown for another, for her mother and sisters had taken care she should be provided with an ample wardrobe. She soon ceased to regret not having been allowed to accompany Lydia to the West Indies, and before many days were over had discovered a reason to rejoice that she had not gone. Among Mrs. Knightley's frequent visitors at this time was a young naval lieutenant named William Price, whom she had met a short time previously at the house of the same Mr. Yates who had paid a visit to Bath in the preceding spring. Mr. Yates lived in Cavendish Square, and as his wife was a first cousin of William Price's, they had begged the young man to make their house his home whenever he happened to be in London. Young Price had lately been attached to a ship of the line, the _Andromeda_, which he had been obliged to put into Portsmouth for repairs, and he had been employing some of the period of his enforced leisure in taking up a course of signalling and gunnery, as he was extremely anxious to gain promotion as speedily as possible; but he had found that it was necessary to use other means than those of mere hard work, and at the present time he was living in London, keeping in touch with the Admiralty and endeavouring to recommend himself to every high official and person of influence with whom he could contrive to become acquainted. In the intervals he paid hasty visits to his sisters, who were settled in Northamptonshire, and to his mother at Portsmouth; and being a young man of excellent address, great charm of manner and marked abilities, he had gained a deserved popularity, and could not help enjoying the gaiety of London life, available to him through the hospitality of numerous friends. Mrs. Knightley was extremely pleased with him, and with his next brother, David, who was a clerk in the India Office, and both young men found it a very agreeable house to come to, especially when to the welcome of their hostess was added that of a pretty girl who, warm-hearted and impulsive, did not attempt to conceal her pleasure in their company. David Price was two or three years her junior, and in him Kitty Bennet found only a merry and boyish companion; but the manliness of the young sailor aroused different feelings, and it was not long before she realized that the visits of William Price were becoming the most important thing in her life. She dreamt of him before he came, she had no eyes for anyone else when he was present, and she treasured his words when he had gone; and although she could not honestly read into those words more than a passing friendliness, yet she allowed herself to cherish hopes that each _next_ time there might be something warmer. Poor Kitty had secretly longed to be married ever since she was sixteen; and now at last it seemed as if Destiny itself was working for her, in placing her with so kind a hostess, who was always giving invitations and affording opportunities, and in sending her such a splendid hero of romance to fall in love with, for a hero he was, of a campaign at sea, when he had distinguished himself as much by bravery as he had on shore by industry; a hero with good looks, an assured position, and prize-money saved, and at the present moment with nothing particular to do but fall in love with Miss Kitty Bennet! It was impossible not to feel, under the circumstances, that the course of events was plainly marked out. Mrs. Knightley certainly thought so too, and although she refrained from definite statements, her sympathetic attitude encouraged Kitty to talk herself into hope and self-confidence. The importance of the ball itself in the great scheme of things was not overlooked, and Emma even dreamt now of a brilliant d nouement like last year's. She had invited a large number of people, and was anxious to have as many dancing couples as possible, so Mrs. Hurst's request for permission to bring her brother and Miss Darcy was warmly acceded to, and it was only a matter of regret that their friend Colonel Fitzwilliam could not be induced to go to any balls this season. Kitty was delighted at the prospect of meeting Georgiana again, and when the call spoken of by Mrs. Hurst was being paid, on the day following Georgiana's arrival, she availed herself of a pause in the conversation, and a nod and a smile from Mrs. Knightley, to ask her friend to come to another room for a few moments, on the plea of showing her some new possessions. Georgiana duly admired the bonnets and pelisses, and the gold chain which was Mrs. Knightley's present, and the rose-coloured ball dress which was to make its first appearance on the much-talked-of occasion. Kitty's head was evidently full of this event; she dwelt on it constantly, and from her quick nervous manner Georgiana guessed at some kind of special preoccupation with the subject. "And so you are very happy here, Kitty? Perhaps I need not ask that," she said, as Kitty turned to unfold another new muslin gown. "Oh, very, very happy, perfectly happy," exclaimed Kitty with eagerness. "Mrs. Knightley is so kind, and such nice people come here, you have no idea, Georgiana. Now, do look; is not that beautiful? A real India muslin, and the colour just suits me. You ought to like it, for I bought it with some money Elizabeth gave me." "Yes, dear, I do like it, of course," returned Georgiana; "but tell me some more about yourself. How long were you with the Gardiners?" "I forget just how long, but I came here on the first of June. Oh, I do not know how ever I shall be able to leave! Georgiana, I must tell you! I have been longing to do so, and yet I do not know how I can, after all, for it has not really happened yet. "Of course you have guessed," she went on, in answer to Georgiana's affectionately inquiring glance; "it can only be one thing: but pray do not mention it to anyone, for no one has any idea of it except Mrs. Knightley. It is so wonderful! Georgiana, do you believe in love at first sight?" "I have never thought about it," answered Georgiana honestly, "but I should think it might be possible." "Indeed, indeed, it is possible! It does happen. When you see him, you will know how easily. You will see him on Tuesday night; I do wonder what you will think of him. You must be sure to tell me quite truthfully." "Dear Kitty, you cannot think how glad I am. You mean you are engaged, or just about to be?" "Oh, no, no, no!" exclaimed Kitty, "you do not understand. I think--I hope--but I do not even know if he cares. Sometimes I feel sure he does, and then, again, he seems to be perfectly indifferent, and it is so terrible then, more terrible than you can imagine. But you will see--you will judge for yourself; I shall depend so much upon you for comfort and counsel, especially if Bingley asks him to come down and stay at Desborough, as I mean to persuade him to do." Georgiana was not much enlightened, and her shyness and natural reserve made her hesitate to ask questions on such a subject, which, had she been Kitty, she could not have mentioned to any living creature. But Kitty was evidently longing for sympathy, and poured out her hopes and fears and her reasons for both, mingling with them a description of William Price, painted in the most vivid colours and emphasizing his courage and distinction as an officer, his amiability as a man, his perfection as a ball-room partner, and the high opinion Mr. Knightley and all sensible men had formed of him. Georgiana listened, and was interested almost against her will; she had known Kitty to take fancies several times before for persons who had not returned her regard or thought of doing so; but in this case, from what she could gather, the young man seemed really to deserve Kitty's enthusiasm; they had met under Mrs. Knightley's auspices, he had been very often at the house, and certainly, everything considered, it was much more likely that he should fall in love with Kitty than not. Nevertheless, she hardly knew how to answer her; to encourage her in hopes which might prove false would be the cruellest kindness, so, while, murmuring her wishes for her friend's happiness, she agreed that she must wait for the evening of the ball before she could really tell how far Kitty's dreams were likely to be realized. They talked so long that eventually she had to propose a return to the drawing-room, fearing to be guilty of discourtesy towards Mrs. Knightley; but she was glad that only a moment was left for Kitty's hurried inquiry about her own affairs, as they hastened down the staircase, and that she could therefore dismiss the subject with a light word. Kitty was scarcely satisfied, but finding that Georgiana could not be induced to speak of Colonel Fitzwilliam, returned to her own all-absorbing topic with the remark, "I do wish you could meet someone just like my dear Mr. Price!" Chapter IX The next few days passed rapidly for both girls, and were so full of engagements that they were not able to arrange another meeting, and Georgiana deeply regretted the fact that, except for a glimpse of her at the ball, she should not see Kitty again before Bingley's departure from town. She could only hope that all would go well, and looked forward to a fuller intercourse in Derbyshire in a few weeks' time. Meanwhile, there were many friends to see, and Georgiana would have enjoyed herself thoroughly had she not dreaded the first meeting with Colonel Fitzwilliam, which she felt hanging over her, since Bingley had called on the Colonel and reported him to be in town, but which she did not know when to expect. A slight change in her plans, necessitating a short absence from Mr. Hurst's house, led her to imagine that it would be temporarily averted; but on the very day of the ball, when she and her hostesses had remained at home, and a larger number of visitors than usual happened to be in the room, she experienced a painful shock on hearing his name announced and on seeing him walk into the room. Next moment she was angry with herself for losing her composure, even momentarily, and bracing herself for a possible encounter, she endeavoured to continue to bear her part in a conversation with two or three of Mrs. Hurst's friends, who, she realized gratefully, were strangers to her until that day. It was some minutes afterwards that she was aware of Colonel Fitzwilliam approaching her, guided by Miss Bingley, whose kindly intentions of making the occasion as ordinary as possible only served to intensify its discomfort. Georgiana, however, thought the fault all hers, as, not reassured at all by Caroline's cheerful "Colonel Fitzwilliam was so glad to hear you were staying with us, Georgiana," she found herself only just able to give him her hand with an almost inaudible greeting, while her face, suffused with deepest blushes, must, she felt, have made her noticeable to all around. It was Colonel Fitzwilliam's part to set her at her ease, which he did, to some extent with a few kindly and naturally-expressed sentences, inquiring about her journey, and the health of those she had left behind. Georgiana presently ventured to let her eyes rest on him, and was startled to see how much older he looked even in the short time since she'd seen him, and how ill and worn. A terror seized her heart that she might be guilty of these altered looks, but it passed in an instant; there was not any doubt that their parting had been for the good of both; but poor Cousin Robert, it was plain to see that he had been suffering, from whatever cause, and her sympathy went out to him unconsciously, even while she could hardly talk to him from embarrassment of knowing that Caroline Bingley was standing by, apparently occupied with other people, but drawing conclusions from every word she could hear. "I had intended coming to see you, anyhow, Georgiana," said Fitzwilliam, "but I am very busy, you know--I do not go out much; and you live in a perpetual whirl of gaiety, I expect." He smiled as he spoke, and Georgiana tried to answer in the same spirit, telling him that they had a good many plans, and people were very kind, but she was not really in a whirl, in fact, the very next morning she was leaving for Grosvenor Street for a few days, to spend them quietly with her old friend Mrs. Annesley, who lived in Hans Place, quite away from the bustle of London. "Mrs. Annesley?" repeated Fitzwilliam; "of course I remember her; she will enjoy having you, but how have Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley become reconciled to parting with you even for a week?" Georgiana explained hurriedly that it had been quite a sudden engagement; her old friend had been to see her, and had begged for a short visit from her, if possible, for Mrs. Annesley was on the point of going to India, to live with a married son who had lost his wife, and she might not have the opportunity of seeing her former pupil again for many years. Georgiana had been happy in the opportunity of going to her friend at such a time; her present hostesses had acquiesced, and a week was to be spared to Mrs. Annesley. "But it will be made up in Grosvenor Street next month, I assume," said Colonel Fitzwilliam. "I hardly know--I believe Elizabeth and my brother want me at home again soon--but of course I like being here too," said Georgiana, stumbling over her words, and feeling that she was disgracing herself. If only Caroline would not stand there and seem to be observing them so closely! She did not believe it would be so distressing to talk to Cousin Robert if only they could be together somewhere among strangers. This thought impelled her to ask him, quite at random, for she had every reason to know what his reply would be, whether he was going to Mrs. Knightley's ball. "I am afraid not, Georgiana. I think I am getting too old for balls; but I wish you a great deal of pleasure there." "Oh, Cousin Robert, you are not too old, but you--" she checked herself in this impetuous speech, and ended rather confusedly, "but you look tired"; which was not what she would have wished to say. Her cousin glanced kindly at her, but turned her remark off with a laugh; and as he seemed about to move away, Georgiana, in desperation, and astonished at herself, said timidly: "I hope we may meet again, even though you do not go to balls." "I hope so, too, Georgiana. But of course we shall. I must come some morning and take you all to Kensington Gardens." Georgiana felt that this would not be a great improvement on the present situation, but she could not say any more, and supposed their conversation was at an end, when Fitzwilliam, who had made a step from her, seemed struck with a sudden idea, and turned to her again, saying: "May I come and call on you at Mrs. Annesley's? She will perhaps remember me and--I may not be in town later on." Georgiana flushed with surprise and pleasure, and her eager assent left Fitzwilliam in no doubt as to his reception. He stayed only to assure himself of the number of Mrs. Annesley's house, then bowed and walked rapidly away, as Miss Bingley approached with the evident intention of breaking up their conclave. Georgiana had to submit to a certain amount of comment from the sisters, who, while condoling with her for having had to pass through a uncomfortable few minutes, appeared surprised that she should have been able to talk to Colonel Fitzwilliam, but she herself felt nothing but happiness in having met her cousin again, and found it possible to think of being on those terms with him that Elizabeth had predicted. She spent a part of the afternoon in writing a long letter to her sister, telling her what had happened; but she did not like to send an account of her cousin that might alarm them at home, so she contented herself with saying that he was not looking at all well, and that she wished Elizabeth would persuade him to go down to Pemberley, as he must be working too hard in London. She concluded her writing with the words, "I will leave this open till to-morrow, dear Elizabeth, that I may tell you about the ball, and how Kitty looked." Kitty, indeed, was the chief subject of her thoughts when they dwelt upon the prospect of the evening, and when the time for dressing arrived Kitty's rose-coloured silk occupied her mind far more than her own white satin and pearls. When Mr. and Mrs. Hurst's party entered the ante-room where Mrs. Knightley was receiving her guests, the two girls managed to exchange a few words, and Georgiana gathered that the hero of the evening had not yet appeared, but Kitty was separated from her by the crowd of arrivals, and so it eventually came about that it was their hostess who performed the introduction of Mr. William Price to Miss Darcy. Georgiana's first thought, when she looked at the noble brow and clear blue eye of the young man, was that Kitty's attachment was easily understood, and each moment that she spent in his company strengthened that assurance. She was desirous of liking him, eager to find everything to praise in the admired--and perhaps the admirer--of her friend, and the opportunity came at once in the infectious gaiety and good spirits of the young man and the unaffected warmth of his manner. He asked her for the honour of her hand in several dances; but the first two, she noticed, he danced with Kitty, and from the sparkle in Kitty's eye, and her quick movement as he approached to claim them, Georgiana conjectured that the engagement had been made previously. When Georgiana's turn came, among the excellencies that she discovered in her partner was that of being a perfect dancer; and, moreover, one who moved through the set as if he enjoyed every step. Somewhat shyly she commented on this. "Yes, indeed, Miss Darcy, I am fond of dancing; I began very early, when I was such a small person that you probably wouldn't have seen me in a room, much less have danced with me. We all used to jump about as children, I believe; and on board ship one somehow managed to learn, so as to be ready for the balls." "Were there balls so often?" asked Georgiana. "Yes; wherever we were stationed somebody always seized the opportunity to give a ball, either a private person, or the Governor, or the regiment, or someone. There seems to be a connection established in people's minds between naval men and dancing; anyhow, as soon as there were a few days' quiet, someone would produce musicians and a waxed floor, and we were expected to go and perform. So I decided that I had better like it." "You are a very fortunate person to be able to be able to like

think

How many times the word 'think' appears in the text?

Brandon's death, that there had not been time for much intercourse between them and the Darcys, though Elizabeth had been greatly pleased with what she had seen of Mrs. Ferrars. Since the former's return from Bath, and after her experiences there of the other branch of the family, she could appreciate fully the immense superiority of the Edward Ferrars over their relations. Ferrars himself was too quiet, diffident, and reserved a man to recommend himself easily, but in his wife all recognized a woman of a rare and noble nature, distinguished alike by the sweetness of her character and by its strength. The Darcys rejoiced in the increased opportunities of meeting afforded by the presence of their guest, and various walks, drives and out-of-doors excursions were organized, for which the glorious weather of early June afforded every opportunity. The first diminution their party suffered was in the departure of Georgiana for London, which occurred on the seventeenth of the month. The visit had long been talked of, and Georgiana really looked forward with no little pleasure to seeing her old friends, for Caroline Bingley and Louisa took pains not to show to her, of whom they were exceedingly fond, the cold-hearted and worldly aspect of their dispositions; but when she found herself actually in the travelling carriage with Bingley, with her maid seated opposite, she felt, as she did every year, the sensation of leaving all that she cared for behind her, and of entering scenes alarming because unfamiliar. Bingley good-naturedly endeavoured to divert her in every way, talked of the pleasures awaiting her, and of the friends she would see in London, Kitty Bennet and Mrs. Annesley, besides her hostesses, and casually mentioned the possibility of her coming across Colonel Fitzwilliam. Georgiana had been prepared for this by Elizabeth, and had first shrunk from the idea; but afterwards became reconciled to the view put before her, that the first meeting, which must necessarily be painful, must come some time, and it would be best to get it over in a crowd, with a few ordinary words of greeting, which would put them on a comfortable footing for the future. She, therefore, made an effort to reply cheerfully to all Bingley's suggestions, and had not found the journey tedious when they drew up in Grosvenor Street in time for dinner on the third day. Caroline and Louisa could not make enough of her, and the evening was spent in talking over the plans they had formed for her amusement, and in detailing the engagements they had entered into. It soon appeared that the ball which Bingley had mentioned was on their list; for they were also acquainted with Mrs. George Knightley, whose entertainment it was, and had secured invitations from her for their brother and their young friend. Bingley inquired of the date of the ball, explaining how it affected his movements; and his sisters endeavoured to conceal their surprise on hearing that Miss Kitty Bennet was staying with the Knightleys. "I thought, when you spoke of coming to fetch her, Charles, that she was with her uncle and aunt in Gracechurch Street," said Miss Bingley. "To tell the truth, I was not very clear about it myself," returned Bingley. "Jane told me that she was going to stay over this ball, but whether she was with the Gardiners or the Knightleys I did not make out until just before we came away. It does not make a vast deal of difference, to my thinking." "There is certainly some difference; the Knightleys live in Portland Square, for one thing," replied Miss Bingley. "Do they? I am glad of that, for it means I shall not have to drive so far round to pick Kitty up," was Bingley's cheerful answer, and he moved away to speak to Mr. Hurst, leaving his sisters to their speculations as to how Miss Bennet could have come to know the George Knightleys. Georgiana did not know, but conjectured it was through Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner; and the ladies, though they refrained from showing their perplexity, were even more puzzled to account for the uncle who lived in Cheapside being acquainted with such people of fashion. "Have you seen anything of Fitzwilliam, Louisa?" inquired Bingley of his eldest sister, when he came to have his coffee-cup refilled. "Really, Charles, what a foolish question to ask," replied Mrs. Hurst, with affected carelessness. "Of course we see him frequently when he is in town." "Very good; I hope he will come round while I am here, and, if not, I shall get you to give me his direction, for I must certainly look him up before I go back." Mrs. Hurst made a vague answer, for both she and her sister were sincerely anxious to spare Georgiana any embarrassment, and they would not of their own accord have referred to Fitzwilliam until they knew how she was able to bear the mention of his name in public. Caroline immediately began speaking of another subject, but Georgiana, divining their intentions, felt that she must not indulge in a foolish sensibility which might give her friends a false impression of the state of things; so, summoning all her courage, she said, with a deep blush but a tolerably firm voice: "Yes, I hope my cousin may be in town this month. Elizabeth and my brother gave me many messages for him, if I should see him." She was conscious that the ladies were looking at her in surprise, but that Bingley noticed nothing but the amount of milk Louisa was putting in his coffee was a great help, and Caroline, the next moment, said quietly: "Oh, yes, no doubt he will call," which made it unnecessary for Georgiana to say any more. Bingley, having secured his cup, next produced a notebook and proceeded to write down the address of Fitzwilliam's lodgings and the name of his club, and, as an afterthought, the various engagements to which he had been pledged by his sisters. Georgiana found that Mrs. Hurst and Caroline were anxious she should go with them on the following day to call in Portman Square and meet Mrs. George Knightley. Mrs. Knightley, formerly Emma Woodhouse, had, since her marriage, been able to enjoy a larger measure of the social power and influence in the use of which she had always delighted. Since Mr. Woodhouse's death she had persuaded her husband to go into Parliament, and except for short visits to Donwell, they now lived entirely in London--an arrangement which just suited Emma, who had long desired some stir and variety in her life, after having spent so many unbroken years in a country village. Mr. Knightley still took the greatest interest in the farming of his property, and as soon as he was trustee to his sister-in-law, Mrs. John Knightley, for the estate of Hartfield, which had passed to her on her father's death, he found as much to do out of London as in it; while Emma, though fond of Donwell, had grown weary of the neighbourhood, and took a keen pleasure in forming round her in London a large circle of acquaintances, whom she loved to entertain, and in whose characters and careers she took the deepest interest. Mrs. Knightley's ball had become an annual fixture in the month of June, and this year she had a special incentive for giving it and for making it as gay as possible. At her sister's house she had met Mrs. Gardiner, whose husband had long been a close friend in business of Mr. John Knightley. Mrs. Gardiner was chaperoning a niece, Miss Catherine Bennet, a slender, blooming young girl, and pretty without being very striking; but Mrs. Knightley was impressed with her pleasing manners, and the enthusiasm with which she received the prospect of a theatre party which was being discussed on that occasion. It was the work of a moment for Emma to decide that she must ask her sister to bring Miss Bennet to the ball; but during the remainder of the evening, while she considered and observed, an improvement on the first idea suggested itself; Miss Bennet must be invited to stay in Portman Square for the great occasion. What better arrangement could there be? Isabella would not want to stay late, but young girls liked to dance till the last moment, and she, Emma, would have the benefit of Miss Bennet's help in the preparations, and would be able to introduce her to her partners beforehand. Yes, Miss Bennet was certainly very pretty, prettier than she had appeared at first--such a slim, upright figure, such a profusion of hair, such a delicate fairness of complexion; she would be a great success! It would be as delightful as when last year, the girl who was at the ball as Mrs. Knightley's special friend and prot g e had finished the evening triumphantly becoming engaged to the most eligible man present, Sir William Manvers. Emma felt a thrill at the recollection. The event had justified all her admiration for Sophia Lennox, and Mr. Knightley, who had been so sceptical, had been obliged to admit that sometimes people did marry those whom one had destined for them. There was no Sir William Manvers this year, it was true; but Miss Bennet was still young, and there was plenty of time for the right man to appear. In fact, it was really only her due that she should be properly taken out in London, in order that she might have every chance, and this her aunt, Mrs. Gardiner, was quite evidently not able to give her. What wonder that the upshot of these reflections was a courteous note to Mrs. Gardiner, begging for the pleasure of a visit from Miss Bennet as soon as her stay in Gracechurch Street should be concluded. Kitty was in transports of happiness when all was arranged and she found herself actually Mrs. George Knightley's guest, with a ball in prospect, and each day one round of visits and shopping and other delights, with intervals only long enough to admit of changing one elegant gown for another, for her mother and sisters had taken care she should be provided with an ample wardrobe. She soon ceased to regret not having been allowed to accompany Lydia to the West Indies, and before many days were over had discovered a reason to rejoice that she had not gone. Among Mrs. Knightley's frequent visitors at this time was a young naval lieutenant named William Price, whom she had met a short time previously at the house of the same Mr. Yates who had paid a visit to Bath in the preceding spring. Mr. Yates lived in Cavendish Square, and as his wife was a first cousin of William Price's, they had begged the young man to make their house his home whenever he happened to be in London. Young Price had lately been attached to a ship of the line, the _Andromeda_, which he had been obliged to put into Portsmouth for repairs, and he had been employing some of the period of his enforced leisure in taking up a course of signalling and gunnery, as he was extremely anxious to gain promotion as speedily as possible; but he had found that it was necessary to use other means than those of mere hard work, and at the present time he was living in London, keeping in touch with the Admiralty and endeavouring to recommend himself to every high official and person of influence with whom he could contrive to become acquainted. In the intervals he paid hasty visits to his sisters, who were settled in Northamptonshire, and to his mother at Portsmouth; and being a young man of excellent address, great charm of manner and marked abilities, he had gained a deserved popularity, and could not help enjoying the gaiety of London life, available to him through the hospitality of numerous friends. Mrs. Knightley was extremely pleased with him, and with his next brother, David, who was a clerk in the India Office, and both young men found it a very agreeable house to come to, especially when to the welcome of their hostess was added that of a pretty girl who, warm-hearted and impulsive, did not attempt to conceal her pleasure in their company. David Price was two or three years her junior, and in him Kitty Bennet found only a merry and boyish companion; but the manliness of the young sailor aroused different feelings, and it was not long before she realized that the visits of William Price were becoming the most important thing in her life. She dreamt of him before he came, she had no eyes for anyone else when he was present, and she treasured his words when he had gone; and although she could not honestly read into those words more than a passing friendliness, yet she allowed herself to cherish hopes that each _next_ time there might be something warmer. Poor Kitty had secretly longed to be married ever since she was sixteen; and now at last it seemed as if Destiny itself was working for her, in placing her with so kind a hostess, who was always giving invitations and affording opportunities, and in sending her such a splendid hero of romance to fall in love with, for a hero he was, of a campaign at sea, when he had distinguished himself as much by bravery as he had on shore by industry; a hero with good looks, an assured position, and prize-money saved, and at the present moment with nothing particular to do but fall in love with Miss Kitty Bennet! It was impossible not to feel, under the circumstances, that the course of events was plainly marked out. Mrs. Knightley certainly thought so too, and although she refrained from definite statements, her sympathetic attitude encouraged Kitty to talk herself into hope and self-confidence. The importance of the ball itself in the great scheme of things was not overlooked, and Emma even dreamt now of a brilliant d nouement like last year's. She had invited a large number of people, and was anxious to have as many dancing couples as possible, so Mrs. Hurst's request for permission to bring her brother and Miss Darcy was warmly acceded to, and it was only a matter of regret that their friend Colonel Fitzwilliam could not be induced to go to any balls this season. Kitty was delighted at the prospect of meeting Georgiana again, and when the call spoken of by Mrs. Hurst was being paid, on the day following Georgiana's arrival, she availed herself of a pause in the conversation, and a nod and a smile from Mrs. Knightley, to ask her friend to come to another room for a few moments, on the plea of showing her some new possessions. Georgiana duly admired the bonnets and pelisses, and the gold chain which was Mrs. Knightley's present, and the rose-coloured ball dress which was to make its first appearance on the much-talked-of occasion. Kitty's head was evidently full of this event; she dwelt on it constantly, and from her quick nervous manner Georgiana guessed at some kind of special preoccupation with the subject. "And so you are very happy here, Kitty? Perhaps I need not ask that," she said, as Kitty turned to unfold another new muslin gown. "Oh, very, very happy, perfectly happy," exclaimed Kitty with eagerness. "Mrs. Knightley is so kind, and such nice people come here, you have no idea, Georgiana. Now, do look; is not that beautiful? A real India muslin, and the colour just suits me. You ought to like it, for I bought it with some money Elizabeth gave me." "Yes, dear, I do like it, of course," returned Georgiana; "but tell me some more about yourself. How long were you with the Gardiners?" "I forget just how long, but I came here on the first of June. Oh, I do not know how ever I shall be able to leave! Georgiana, I must tell you! I have been longing to do so, and yet I do not know how I can, after all, for it has not really happened yet. "Of course you have guessed," she went on, in answer to Georgiana's affectionately inquiring glance; "it can only be one thing: but pray do not mention it to anyone, for no one has any idea of it except Mrs. Knightley. It is so wonderful! Georgiana, do you believe in love at first sight?" "I have never thought about it," answered Georgiana honestly, "but I should think it might be possible." "Indeed, indeed, it is possible! It does happen. When you see him, you will know how easily. You will see him on Tuesday night; I do wonder what you will think of him. You must be sure to tell me quite truthfully." "Dear Kitty, you cannot think how glad I am. You mean you are engaged, or just about to be?" "Oh, no, no, no!" exclaimed Kitty, "you do not understand. I think--I hope--but I do not even know if he cares. Sometimes I feel sure he does, and then, again, he seems to be perfectly indifferent, and it is so terrible then, more terrible than you can imagine. But you will see--you will judge for yourself; I shall depend so much upon you for comfort and counsel, especially if Bingley asks him to come down and stay at Desborough, as I mean to persuade him to do." Georgiana was not much enlightened, and her shyness and natural reserve made her hesitate to ask questions on such a subject, which, had she been Kitty, she could not have mentioned to any living creature. But Kitty was evidently longing for sympathy, and poured out her hopes and fears and her reasons for both, mingling with them a description of William Price, painted in the most vivid colours and emphasizing his courage and distinction as an officer, his amiability as a man, his perfection as a ball-room partner, and the high opinion Mr. Knightley and all sensible men had formed of him. Georgiana listened, and was interested almost against her will; she had known Kitty to take fancies several times before for persons who had not returned her regard or thought of doing so; but in this case, from what she could gather, the young man seemed really to deserve Kitty's enthusiasm; they had met under Mrs. Knightley's auspices, he had been very often at the house, and certainly, everything considered, it was much more likely that he should fall in love with Kitty than not. Nevertheless, she hardly knew how to answer her; to encourage her in hopes which might prove false would be the cruellest kindness, so, while, murmuring her wishes for her friend's happiness, she agreed that she must wait for the evening of the ball before she could really tell how far Kitty's dreams were likely to be realized. They talked so long that eventually she had to propose a return to the drawing-room, fearing to be guilty of discourtesy towards Mrs. Knightley; but she was glad that only a moment was left for Kitty's hurried inquiry about her own affairs, as they hastened down the staircase, and that she could therefore dismiss the subject with a light word. Kitty was scarcely satisfied, but finding that Georgiana could not be induced to speak of Colonel Fitzwilliam, returned to her own all-absorbing topic with the remark, "I do wish you could meet someone just like my dear Mr. Price!" Chapter IX The next few days passed rapidly for both girls, and were so full of engagements that they were not able to arrange another meeting, and Georgiana deeply regretted the fact that, except for a glimpse of her at the ball, she should not see Kitty again before Bingley's departure from town. She could only hope that all would go well, and looked forward to a fuller intercourse in Derbyshire in a few weeks' time. Meanwhile, there were many friends to see, and Georgiana would have enjoyed herself thoroughly had she not dreaded the first meeting with Colonel Fitzwilliam, which she felt hanging over her, since Bingley had called on the Colonel and reported him to be in town, but which she did not know when to expect. A slight change in her plans, necessitating a short absence from Mr. Hurst's house, led her to imagine that it would be temporarily averted; but on the very day of the ball, when she and her hostesses had remained at home, and a larger number of visitors than usual happened to be in the room, she experienced a painful shock on hearing his name announced and on seeing him walk into the room. Next moment she was angry with herself for losing her composure, even momentarily, and bracing herself for a possible encounter, she endeavoured to continue to bear her part in a conversation with two or three of Mrs. Hurst's friends, who, she realized gratefully, were strangers to her until that day. It was some minutes afterwards that she was aware of Colonel Fitzwilliam approaching her, guided by Miss Bingley, whose kindly intentions of making the occasion as ordinary as possible only served to intensify its discomfort. Georgiana, however, thought the fault all hers, as, not reassured at all by Caroline's cheerful "Colonel Fitzwilliam was so glad to hear you were staying with us, Georgiana," she found herself only just able to give him her hand with an almost inaudible greeting, while her face, suffused with deepest blushes, must, she felt, have made her noticeable to all around. It was Colonel Fitzwilliam's part to set her at her ease, which he did, to some extent with a few kindly and naturally-expressed sentences, inquiring about her journey, and the health of those she had left behind. Georgiana presently ventured to let her eyes rest on him, and was startled to see how much older he looked even in the short time since she'd seen him, and how ill and worn. A terror seized her heart that she might be guilty of these altered looks, but it passed in an instant; there was not any doubt that their parting had been for the good of both; but poor Cousin Robert, it was plain to see that he had been suffering, from whatever cause, and her sympathy went out to him unconsciously, even while she could hardly talk to him from embarrassment of knowing that Caroline Bingley was standing by, apparently occupied with other people, but drawing conclusions from every word she could hear. "I had intended coming to see you, anyhow, Georgiana," said Fitzwilliam, "but I am very busy, you know--I do not go out much; and you live in a perpetual whirl of gaiety, I expect." He smiled as he spoke, and Georgiana tried to answer in the same spirit, telling him that they had a good many plans, and people were very kind, but she was not really in a whirl, in fact, the very next morning she was leaving for Grosvenor Street for a few days, to spend them quietly with her old friend Mrs. Annesley, who lived in Hans Place, quite away from the bustle of London. "Mrs. Annesley?" repeated Fitzwilliam; "of course I remember her; she will enjoy having you, but how have Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley become reconciled to parting with you even for a week?" Georgiana explained hurriedly that it had been quite a sudden engagement; her old friend had been to see her, and had begged for a short visit from her, if possible, for Mrs. Annesley was on the point of going to India, to live with a married son who had lost his wife, and she might not have the opportunity of seeing her former pupil again for many years. Georgiana had been happy in the opportunity of going to her friend at such a time; her present hostesses had acquiesced, and a week was to be spared to Mrs. Annesley. "But it will be made up in Grosvenor Street next month, I assume," said Colonel Fitzwilliam. "I hardly know--I believe Elizabeth and my brother want me at home again soon--but of course I like being here too," said Georgiana, stumbling over her words, and feeling that she was disgracing herself. If only Caroline would not stand there and seem to be observing them so closely! She did not believe it would be so distressing to talk to Cousin Robert if only they could be together somewhere among strangers. This thought impelled her to ask him, quite at random, for she had every reason to know what his reply would be, whether he was going to Mrs. Knightley's ball. "I am afraid not, Georgiana. I think I am getting too old for balls; but I wish you a great deal of pleasure there." "Oh, Cousin Robert, you are not too old, but you--" she checked herself in this impetuous speech, and ended rather confusedly, "but you look tired"; which was not what she would have wished to say. Her cousin glanced kindly at her, but turned her remark off with a laugh; and as he seemed about to move away, Georgiana, in desperation, and astonished at herself, said timidly: "I hope we may meet again, even though you do not go to balls." "I hope so, too, Georgiana. But of course we shall. I must come some morning and take you all to Kensington Gardens." Georgiana felt that this would not be a great improvement on the present situation, but she could not say any more, and supposed their conversation was at an end, when Fitzwilliam, who had made a step from her, seemed struck with a sudden idea, and turned to her again, saying: "May I come and call on you at Mrs. Annesley's? She will perhaps remember me and--I may not be in town later on." Georgiana flushed with surprise and pleasure, and her eager assent left Fitzwilliam in no doubt as to his reception. He stayed only to assure himself of the number of Mrs. Annesley's house, then bowed and walked rapidly away, as Miss Bingley approached with the evident intention of breaking up their conclave. Georgiana had to submit to a certain amount of comment from the sisters, who, while condoling with her for having had to pass through a uncomfortable few minutes, appeared surprised that she should have been able to talk to Colonel Fitzwilliam, but she herself felt nothing but happiness in having met her cousin again, and found it possible to think of being on those terms with him that Elizabeth had predicted. She spent a part of the afternoon in writing a long letter to her sister, telling her what had happened; but she did not like to send an account of her cousin that might alarm them at home, so she contented herself with saying that he was not looking at all well, and that she wished Elizabeth would persuade him to go down to Pemberley, as he must be working too hard in London. She concluded her writing with the words, "I will leave this open till to-morrow, dear Elizabeth, that I may tell you about the ball, and how Kitty looked." Kitty, indeed, was the chief subject of her thoughts when they dwelt upon the prospect of the evening, and when the time for dressing arrived Kitty's rose-coloured silk occupied her mind far more than her own white satin and pearls. When Mr. and Mrs. Hurst's party entered the ante-room where Mrs. Knightley was receiving her guests, the two girls managed to exchange a few words, and Georgiana gathered that the hero of the evening had not yet appeared, but Kitty was separated from her by the crowd of arrivals, and so it eventually came about that it was their hostess who performed the introduction of Mr. William Price to Miss Darcy. Georgiana's first thought, when she looked at the noble brow and clear blue eye of the young man, was that Kitty's attachment was easily understood, and each moment that she spent in his company strengthened that assurance. She was desirous of liking him, eager to find everything to praise in the admired--and perhaps the admirer--of her friend, and the opportunity came at once in the infectious gaiety and good spirits of the young man and the unaffected warmth of his manner. He asked her for the honour of her hand in several dances; but the first two, she noticed, he danced with Kitty, and from the sparkle in Kitty's eye, and her quick movement as he approached to claim them, Georgiana conjectured that the engagement had been made previously. When Georgiana's turn came, among the excellencies that she discovered in her partner was that of being a perfect dancer; and, moreover, one who moved through the set as if he enjoyed every step. Somewhat shyly she commented on this. "Yes, indeed, Miss Darcy, I am fond of dancing; I began very early, when I was such a small person that you probably wouldn't have seen me in a room, much less have danced with me. We all used to jump about as children, I believe; and on board ship one somehow managed to learn, so as to be ready for the balls." "Were there balls so often?" asked Georgiana. "Yes; wherever we were stationed somebody always seized the opportunity to give a ball, either a private person, or the Governor, or the regiment, or someone. There seems to be a connection established in people's minds between naval men and dancing; anyhow, as soon as there were a few days' quiet, someone would produce musicians and a waxed floor, and we were expected to go and perform. So I decided that I had better like it." "You are a very fortunate person to be able to be able to like

pretty

How many times the word 'pretty' appears in the text?

Brandon's death, that there had not been time for much intercourse between them and the Darcys, though Elizabeth had been greatly pleased with what she had seen of Mrs. Ferrars. Since the former's return from Bath, and after her experiences there of the other branch of the family, she could appreciate fully the immense superiority of the Edward Ferrars over their relations. Ferrars himself was too quiet, diffident, and reserved a man to recommend himself easily, but in his wife all recognized a woman of a rare and noble nature, distinguished alike by the sweetness of her character and by its strength. The Darcys rejoiced in the increased opportunities of meeting afforded by the presence of their guest, and various walks, drives and out-of-doors excursions were organized, for which the glorious weather of early June afforded every opportunity. The first diminution their party suffered was in the departure of Georgiana for London, which occurred on the seventeenth of the month. The visit had long been talked of, and Georgiana really looked forward with no little pleasure to seeing her old friends, for Caroline Bingley and Louisa took pains not to show to her, of whom they were exceedingly fond, the cold-hearted and worldly aspect of their dispositions; but when she found herself actually in the travelling carriage with Bingley, with her maid seated opposite, she felt, as she did every year, the sensation of leaving all that she cared for behind her, and of entering scenes alarming because unfamiliar. Bingley good-naturedly endeavoured to divert her in every way, talked of the pleasures awaiting her, and of the friends she would see in London, Kitty Bennet and Mrs. Annesley, besides her hostesses, and casually mentioned the possibility of her coming across Colonel Fitzwilliam. Georgiana had been prepared for this by Elizabeth, and had first shrunk from the idea; but afterwards became reconciled to the view put before her, that the first meeting, which must necessarily be painful, must come some time, and it would be best to get it over in a crowd, with a few ordinary words of greeting, which would put them on a comfortable footing for the future. She, therefore, made an effort to reply cheerfully to all Bingley's suggestions, and had not found the journey tedious when they drew up in Grosvenor Street in time for dinner on the third day. Caroline and Louisa could not make enough of her, and the evening was spent in talking over the plans they had formed for her amusement, and in detailing the engagements they had entered into. It soon appeared that the ball which Bingley had mentioned was on their list; for they were also acquainted with Mrs. George Knightley, whose entertainment it was, and had secured invitations from her for their brother and their young friend. Bingley inquired of the date of the ball, explaining how it affected his movements; and his sisters endeavoured to conceal their surprise on hearing that Miss Kitty Bennet was staying with the Knightleys. "I thought, when you spoke of coming to fetch her, Charles, that she was with her uncle and aunt in Gracechurch Street," said Miss Bingley. "To tell the truth, I was not very clear about it myself," returned Bingley. "Jane told me that she was going to stay over this ball, but whether she was with the Gardiners or the Knightleys I did not make out until just before we came away. It does not make a vast deal of difference, to my thinking." "There is certainly some difference; the Knightleys live in Portland Square, for one thing," replied Miss Bingley. "Do they? I am glad of that, for it means I shall not have to drive so far round to pick Kitty up," was Bingley's cheerful answer, and he moved away to speak to Mr. Hurst, leaving his sisters to their speculations as to how Miss Bennet could have come to know the George Knightleys. Georgiana did not know, but conjectured it was through Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner; and the ladies, though they refrained from showing their perplexity, were even more puzzled to account for the uncle who lived in Cheapside being acquainted with such people of fashion. "Have you seen anything of Fitzwilliam, Louisa?" inquired Bingley of his eldest sister, when he came to have his coffee-cup refilled. "Really, Charles, what a foolish question to ask," replied Mrs. Hurst, with affected carelessness. "Of course we see him frequently when he is in town." "Very good; I hope he will come round while I am here, and, if not, I shall get you to give me his direction, for I must certainly look him up before I go back." Mrs. Hurst made a vague answer, for both she and her sister were sincerely anxious to spare Georgiana any embarrassment, and they would not of their own accord have referred to Fitzwilliam until they knew how she was able to bear the mention of his name in public. Caroline immediately began speaking of another subject, but Georgiana, divining their intentions, felt that she must not indulge in a foolish sensibility which might give her friends a false impression of the state of things; so, summoning all her courage, she said, with a deep blush but a tolerably firm voice: "Yes, I hope my cousin may be in town this month. Elizabeth and my brother gave me many messages for him, if I should see him." She was conscious that the ladies were looking at her in surprise, but that Bingley noticed nothing but the amount of milk Louisa was putting in his coffee was a great help, and Caroline, the next moment, said quietly: "Oh, yes, no doubt he will call," which made it unnecessary for Georgiana to say any more. Bingley, having secured his cup, next produced a notebook and proceeded to write down the address of Fitzwilliam's lodgings and the name of his club, and, as an afterthought, the various engagements to which he had been pledged by his sisters. Georgiana found that Mrs. Hurst and Caroline were anxious she should go with them on the following day to call in Portman Square and meet Mrs. George Knightley. Mrs. Knightley, formerly Emma Woodhouse, had, since her marriage, been able to enjoy a larger measure of the social power and influence in the use of which she had always delighted. Since Mr. Woodhouse's death she had persuaded her husband to go into Parliament, and except for short visits to Donwell, they now lived entirely in London--an arrangement which just suited Emma, who had long desired some stir and variety in her life, after having spent so many unbroken years in a country village. Mr. Knightley still took the greatest interest in the farming of his property, and as soon as he was trustee to his sister-in-law, Mrs. John Knightley, for the estate of Hartfield, which had passed to her on her father's death, he found as much to do out of London as in it; while Emma, though fond of Donwell, had grown weary of the neighbourhood, and took a keen pleasure in forming round her in London a large circle of acquaintances, whom she loved to entertain, and in whose characters and careers she took the deepest interest. Mrs. Knightley's ball had become an annual fixture in the month of June, and this year she had a special incentive for giving it and for making it as gay as possible. At her sister's house she had met Mrs. Gardiner, whose husband had long been a close friend in business of Mr. John Knightley. Mrs. Gardiner was chaperoning a niece, Miss Catherine Bennet, a slender, blooming young girl, and pretty without being very striking; but Mrs. Knightley was impressed with her pleasing manners, and the enthusiasm with which she received the prospect of a theatre party which was being discussed on that occasion. It was the work of a moment for Emma to decide that she must ask her sister to bring Miss Bennet to the ball; but during the remainder of the evening, while she considered and observed, an improvement on the first idea suggested itself; Miss Bennet must be invited to stay in Portman Square for the great occasion. What better arrangement could there be? Isabella would not want to stay late, but young girls liked to dance till the last moment, and she, Emma, would have the benefit of Miss Bennet's help in the preparations, and would be able to introduce her to her partners beforehand. Yes, Miss Bennet was certainly very pretty, prettier than she had appeared at first--such a slim, upright figure, such a profusion of hair, such a delicate fairness of complexion; she would be a great success! It would be as delightful as when last year, the girl who was at the ball as Mrs. Knightley's special friend and prot g e had finished the evening triumphantly becoming engaged to the most eligible man present, Sir William Manvers. Emma felt a thrill at the recollection. The event had justified all her admiration for Sophia Lennox, and Mr. Knightley, who had been so sceptical, had been obliged to admit that sometimes people did marry those whom one had destined for them. There was no Sir William Manvers this year, it was true; but Miss Bennet was still young, and there was plenty of time for the right man to appear. In fact, it was really only her due that she should be properly taken out in London, in order that she might have every chance, and this her aunt, Mrs. Gardiner, was quite evidently not able to give her. What wonder that the upshot of these reflections was a courteous note to Mrs. Gardiner, begging for the pleasure of a visit from Miss Bennet as soon as her stay in Gracechurch Street should be concluded. Kitty was in transports of happiness when all was arranged and she found herself actually Mrs. George Knightley's guest, with a ball in prospect, and each day one round of visits and shopping and other delights, with intervals only long enough to admit of changing one elegant gown for another, for her mother and sisters had taken care she should be provided with an ample wardrobe. She soon ceased to regret not having been allowed to accompany Lydia to the West Indies, and before many days were over had discovered a reason to rejoice that she had not gone. Among Mrs. Knightley's frequent visitors at this time was a young naval lieutenant named William Price, whom she had met a short time previously at the house of the same Mr. Yates who had paid a visit to Bath in the preceding spring. Mr. Yates lived in Cavendish Square, and as his wife was a first cousin of William Price's, they had begged the young man to make their house his home whenever he happened to be in London. Young Price had lately been attached to a ship of the line, the _Andromeda_, which he had been obliged to put into Portsmouth for repairs, and he had been employing some of the period of his enforced leisure in taking up a course of signalling and gunnery, as he was extremely anxious to gain promotion as speedily as possible; but he had found that it was necessary to use other means than those of mere hard work, and at the present time he was living in London, keeping in touch with the Admiralty and endeavouring to recommend himself to every high official and person of influence with whom he could contrive to become acquainted. In the intervals he paid hasty visits to his sisters, who were settled in Northamptonshire, and to his mother at Portsmouth; and being a young man of excellent address, great charm of manner and marked abilities, he had gained a deserved popularity, and could not help enjoying the gaiety of London life, available to him through the hospitality of numerous friends. Mrs. Knightley was extremely pleased with him, and with his next brother, David, who was a clerk in the India Office, and both young men found it a very agreeable house to come to, especially when to the welcome of their hostess was added that of a pretty girl who, warm-hearted and impulsive, did not attempt to conceal her pleasure in their company. David Price was two or three years her junior, and in him Kitty Bennet found only a merry and boyish companion; but the manliness of the young sailor aroused different feelings, and it was not long before she realized that the visits of William Price were becoming the most important thing in her life. She dreamt of him before he came, she had no eyes for anyone else when he was present, and she treasured his words when he had gone; and although she could not honestly read into those words more than a passing friendliness, yet she allowed herself to cherish hopes that each _next_ time there might be something warmer. Poor Kitty had secretly longed to be married ever since she was sixteen; and now at last it seemed as if Destiny itself was working for her, in placing her with so kind a hostess, who was always giving invitations and affording opportunities, and in sending her such a splendid hero of romance to fall in love with, for a hero he was, of a campaign at sea, when he had distinguished himself as much by bravery as he had on shore by industry; a hero with good looks, an assured position, and prize-money saved, and at the present moment with nothing particular to do but fall in love with Miss Kitty Bennet! It was impossible not to feel, under the circumstances, that the course of events was plainly marked out. Mrs. Knightley certainly thought so too, and although she refrained from definite statements, her sympathetic attitude encouraged Kitty to talk herself into hope and self-confidence. The importance of the ball itself in the great scheme of things was not overlooked, and Emma even dreamt now of a brilliant d nouement like last year's. She had invited a large number of people, and was anxious to have as many dancing couples as possible, so Mrs. Hurst's request for permission to bring her brother and Miss Darcy was warmly acceded to, and it was only a matter of regret that their friend Colonel Fitzwilliam could not be induced to go to any balls this season. Kitty was delighted at the prospect of meeting Georgiana again, and when the call spoken of by Mrs. Hurst was being paid, on the day following Georgiana's arrival, she availed herself of a pause in the conversation, and a nod and a smile from Mrs. Knightley, to ask her friend to come to another room for a few moments, on the plea of showing her some new possessions. Georgiana duly admired the bonnets and pelisses, and the gold chain which was Mrs. Knightley's present, and the rose-coloured ball dress which was to make its first appearance on the much-talked-of occasion. Kitty's head was evidently full of this event; she dwelt on it constantly, and from her quick nervous manner Georgiana guessed at some kind of special preoccupation with the subject. "And so you are very happy here, Kitty? Perhaps I need not ask that," she said, as Kitty turned to unfold another new muslin gown. "Oh, very, very happy, perfectly happy," exclaimed Kitty with eagerness. "Mrs. Knightley is so kind, and such nice people come here, you have no idea, Georgiana. Now, do look; is not that beautiful? A real India muslin, and the colour just suits me. You ought to like it, for I bought it with some money Elizabeth gave me." "Yes, dear, I do like it, of course," returned Georgiana; "but tell me some more about yourself. How long were you with the Gardiners?" "I forget just how long, but I came here on the first of June. Oh, I do not know how ever I shall be able to leave! Georgiana, I must tell you! I have been longing to do so, and yet I do not know how I can, after all, for it has not really happened yet. "Of course you have guessed," she went on, in answer to Georgiana's affectionately inquiring glance; "it can only be one thing: but pray do not mention it to anyone, for no one has any idea of it except Mrs. Knightley. It is so wonderful! Georgiana, do you believe in love at first sight?" "I have never thought about it," answered Georgiana honestly, "but I should think it might be possible." "Indeed, indeed, it is possible! It does happen. When you see him, you will know how easily. You will see him on Tuesday night; I do wonder what you will think of him. You must be sure to tell me quite truthfully." "Dear Kitty, you cannot think how glad I am. You mean you are engaged, or just about to be?" "Oh, no, no, no!" exclaimed Kitty, "you do not understand. I think--I hope--but I do not even know if he cares. Sometimes I feel sure he does, and then, again, he seems to be perfectly indifferent, and it is so terrible then, more terrible than you can imagine. But you will see--you will judge for yourself; I shall depend so much upon you for comfort and counsel, especially if Bingley asks him to come down and stay at Desborough, as I mean to persuade him to do." Georgiana was not much enlightened, and her shyness and natural reserve made her hesitate to ask questions on such a subject, which, had she been Kitty, she could not have mentioned to any living creature. But Kitty was evidently longing for sympathy, and poured out her hopes and fears and her reasons for both, mingling with them a description of William Price, painted in the most vivid colours and emphasizing his courage and distinction as an officer, his amiability as a man, his perfection as a ball-room partner, and the high opinion Mr. Knightley and all sensible men had formed of him. Georgiana listened, and was interested almost against her will; she had known Kitty to take fancies several times before for persons who had not returned her regard or thought of doing so; but in this case, from what she could gather, the young man seemed really to deserve Kitty's enthusiasm; they had met under Mrs. Knightley's auspices, he had been very often at the house, and certainly, everything considered, it was much more likely that he should fall in love with Kitty than not. Nevertheless, she hardly knew how to answer her; to encourage her in hopes which might prove false would be the cruellest kindness, so, while, murmuring her wishes for her friend's happiness, she agreed that she must wait for the evening of the ball before she could really tell how far Kitty's dreams were likely to be realized. They talked so long that eventually she had to propose a return to the drawing-room, fearing to be guilty of discourtesy towards Mrs. Knightley; but she was glad that only a moment was left for Kitty's hurried inquiry about her own affairs, as they hastened down the staircase, and that she could therefore dismiss the subject with a light word. Kitty was scarcely satisfied, but finding that Georgiana could not be induced to speak of Colonel Fitzwilliam, returned to her own all-absorbing topic with the remark, "I do wish you could meet someone just like my dear Mr. Price!" Chapter IX The next few days passed rapidly for both girls, and were so full of engagements that they were not able to arrange another meeting, and Georgiana deeply regretted the fact that, except for a glimpse of her at the ball, she should not see Kitty again before Bingley's departure from town. She could only hope that all would go well, and looked forward to a fuller intercourse in Derbyshire in a few weeks' time. Meanwhile, there were many friends to see, and Georgiana would have enjoyed herself thoroughly had she not dreaded the first meeting with Colonel Fitzwilliam, which she felt hanging over her, since Bingley had called on the Colonel and reported him to be in town, but which she did not know when to expect. A slight change in her plans, necessitating a short absence from Mr. Hurst's house, led her to imagine that it would be temporarily averted; but on the very day of the ball, when she and her hostesses had remained at home, and a larger number of visitors than usual happened to be in the room, she experienced a painful shock on hearing his name announced and on seeing him walk into the room. Next moment she was angry with herself for losing her composure, even momentarily, and bracing herself for a possible encounter, she endeavoured to continue to bear her part in a conversation with two or three of Mrs. Hurst's friends, who, she realized gratefully, were strangers to her until that day. It was some minutes afterwards that she was aware of Colonel Fitzwilliam approaching her, guided by Miss Bingley, whose kindly intentions of making the occasion as ordinary as possible only served to intensify its discomfort. Georgiana, however, thought the fault all hers, as, not reassured at all by Caroline's cheerful "Colonel Fitzwilliam was so glad to hear you were staying with us, Georgiana," she found herself only just able to give him her hand with an almost inaudible greeting, while her face, suffused with deepest blushes, must, she felt, have made her noticeable to all around. It was Colonel Fitzwilliam's part to set her at her ease, which he did, to some extent with a few kindly and naturally-expressed sentences, inquiring about her journey, and the health of those she had left behind. Georgiana presently ventured to let her eyes rest on him, and was startled to see how much older he looked even in the short time since she'd seen him, and how ill and worn. A terror seized her heart that she might be guilty of these altered looks, but it passed in an instant; there was not any doubt that their parting had been for the good of both; but poor Cousin Robert, it was plain to see that he had been suffering, from whatever cause, and her sympathy went out to him unconsciously, even while she could hardly talk to him from embarrassment of knowing that Caroline Bingley was standing by, apparently occupied with other people, but drawing conclusions from every word she could hear. "I had intended coming to see you, anyhow, Georgiana," said Fitzwilliam, "but I am very busy, you know--I do not go out much; and you live in a perpetual whirl of gaiety, I expect." He smiled as he spoke, and Georgiana tried to answer in the same spirit, telling him that they had a good many plans, and people were very kind, but she was not really in a whirl, in fact, the very next morning she was leaving for Grosvenor Street for a few days, to spend them quietly with her old friend Mrs. Annesley, who lived in Hans Place, quite away from the bustle of London. "Mrs. Annesley?" repeated Fitzwilliam; "of course I remember her; she will enjoy having you, but how have Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley become reconciled to parting with you even for a week?" Georgiana explained hurriedly that it had been quite a sudden engagement; her old friend had been to see her, and had begged for a short visit from her, if possible, for Mrs. Annesley was on the point of going to India, to live with a married son who had lost his wife, and she might not have the opportunity of seeing her former pupil again for many years. Georgiana had been happy in the opportunity of going to her friend at such a time; her present hostesses had acquiesced, and a week was to be spared to Mrs. Annesley. "But it will be made up in Grosvenor Street next month, I assume," said Colonel Fitzwilliam. "I hardly know--I believe Elizabeth and my brother want me at home again soon--but of course I like being here too," said Georgiana, stumbling over her words, and feeling that she was disgracing herself. If only Caroline would not stand there and seem to be observing them so closely! She did not believe it would be so distressing to talk to Cousin Robert if only they could be together somewhere among strangers. This thought impelled her to ask him, quite at random, for she had every reason to know what his reply would be, whether he was going to Mrs. Knightley's ball. "I am afraid not, Georgiana. I think I am getting too old for balls; but I wish you a great deal of pleasure there." "Oh, Cousin Robert, you are not too old, but you--" she checked herself in this impetuous speech, and ended rather confusedly, "but you look tired"; which was not what she would have wished to say. Her cousin glanced kindly at her, but turned her remark off with a laugh; and as he seemed about to move away, Georgiana, in desperation, and astonished at herself, said timidly: "I hope we may meet again, even though you do not go to balls." "I hope so, too, Georgiana. But of course we shall. I must come some morning and take you all to Kensington Gardens." Georgiana felt that this would not be a great improvement on the present situation, but she could not say any more, and supposed their conversation was at an end, when Fitzwilliam, who had made a step from her, seemed struck with a sudden idea, and turned to her again, saying: "May I come and call on you at Mrs. Annesley's? She will perhaps remember me and--I may not be in town later on." Georgiana flushed with surprise and pleasure, and her eager assent left Fitzwilliam in no doubt as to his reception. He stayed only to assure himself of the number of Mrs. Annesley's house, then bowed and walked rapidly away, as Miss Bingley approached with the evident intention of breaking up their conclave. Georgiana had to submit to a certain amount of comment from the sisters, who, while condoling with her for having had to pass through a uncomfortable few minutes, appeared surprised that she should have been able to talk to Colonel Fitzwilliam, but she herself felt nothing but happiness in having met her cousin again, and found it possible to think of being on those terms with him that Elizabeth had predicted. She spent a part of the afternoon in writing a long letter to her sister, telling her what had happened; but she did not like to send an account of her cousin that might alarm them at home, so she contented herself with saying that he was not looking at all well, and that she wished Elizabeth would persuade him to go down to Pemberley, as he must be working too hard in London. She concluded her writing with the words, "I will leave this open till to-morrow, dear Elizabeth, that I may tell you about the ball, and how Kitty looked." Kitty, indeed, was the chief subject of her thoughts when they dwelt upon the prospect of the evening, and when the time for dressing arrived Kitty's rose-coloured silk occupied her mind far more than her own white satin and pearls. When Mr. and Mrs. Hurst's party entered the ante-room where Mrs. Knightley was receiving her guests, the two girls managed to exchange a few words, and Georgiana gathered that the hero of the evening had not yet appeared, but Kitty was separated from her by the crowd of arrivals, and so it eventually came about that it was their hostess who performed the introduction of Mr. William Price to Miss Darcy. Georgiana's first thought, when she looked at the noble brow and clear blue eye of the young man, was that Kitty's attachment was easily understood, and each moment that she spent in his company strengthened that assurance. She was desirous of liking him, eager to find everything to praise in the admired--and perhaps the admirer--of her friend, and the opportunity came at once in the infectious gaiety and good spirits of the young man and the unaffected warmth of his manner. He asked her for the honour of her hand in several dances; but the first two, she noticed, he danced with Kitty, and from the sparkle in Kitty's eye, and her quick movement as he approached to claim them, Georgiana conjectured that the engagement had been made previously. When Georgiana's turn came, among the excellencies that she discovered in her partner was that of being a perfect dancer; and, moreover, one who moved through the set as if he enjoyed every step. Somewhat shyly she commented on this. "Yes, indeed, Miss Darcy, I am fond of dancing; I began very early, when I was such a small person that you probably wouldn't have seen me in a room, much less have danced with me. We all used to jump about as children, I believe; and on board ship one somehow managed to learn, so as to be ready for the balls." "Were there balls so often?" asked Georgiana. "Yes; wherever we were stationed somebody always seized the opportunity to give a ball, either a private person, or the Governor, or the regiment, or someone. There seems to be a connection established in people's minds between naval men and dancing; anyhow, as soon as there were a few days' quiet, someone would produce musicians and a waxed floor, and we were expected to go and perform. So I decided that I had better like it." "You are a very fortunate person to be able to be able to like

work

How many times the word 'work' appears in the text?

Brandon's death, that there had not been time for much intercourse between them and the Darcys, though Elizabeth had been greatly pleased with what she had seen of Mrs. Ferrars. Since the former's return from Bath, and after her experiences there of the other branch of the family, she could appreciate fully the immense superiority of the Edward Ferrars over their relations. Ferrars himself was too quiet, diffident, and reserved a man to recommend himself easily, but in his wife all recognized a woman of a rare and noble nature, distinguished alike by the sweetness of her character and by its strength. The Darcys rejoiced in the increased opportunities of meeting afforded by the presence of their guest, and various walks, drives and out-of-doors excursions were organized, for which the glorious weather of early June afforded every opportunity. The first diminution their party suffered was in the departure of Georgiana for London, which occurred on the seventeenth of the month. The visit had long been talked of, and Georgiana really looked forward with no little pleasure to seeing her old friends, for Caroline Bingley and Louisa took pains not to show to her, of whom they were exceedingly fond, the cold-hearted and worldly aspect of their dispositions; but when she found herself actually in the travelling carriage with Bingley, with her maid seated opposite, she felt, as she did every year, the sensation of leaving all that she cared for behind her, and of entering scenes alarming because unfamiliar. Bingley good-naturedly endeavoured to divert her in every way, talked of the pleasures awaiting her, and of the friends she would see in London, Kitty Bennet and Mrs. Annesley, besides her hostesses, and casually mentioned the possibility of her coming across Colonel Fitzwilliam. Georgiana had been prepared for this by Elizabeth, and had first shrunk from the idea; but afterwards became reconciled to the view put before her, that the first meeting, which must necessarily be painful, must come some time, and it would be best to get it over in a crowd, with a few ordinary words of greeting, which would put them on a comfortable footing for the future. She, therefore, made an effort to reply cheerfully to all Bingley's suggestions, and had not found the journey tedious when they drew up in Grosvenor Street in time for dinner on the third day. Caroline and Louisa could not make enough of her, and the evening was spent in talking over the plans they had formed for her amusement, and in detailing the engagements they had entered into. It soon appeared that the ball which Bingley had mentioned was on their list; for they were also acquainted with Mrs. George Knightley, whose entertainment it was, and had secured invitations from her for their brother and their young friend. Bingley inquired of the date of the ball, explaining how it affected his movements; and his sisters endeavoured to conceal their surprise on hearing that Miss Kitty Bennet was staying with the Knightleys. "I thought, when you spoke of coming to fetch her, Charles, that she was with her uncle and aunt in Gracechurch Street," said Miss Bingley. "To tell the truth, I was not very clear about it myself," returned Bingley. "Jane told me that she was going to stay over this ball, but whether she was with the Gardiners or the Knightleys I did not make out until just before we came away. It does not make a vast deal of difference, to my thinking." "There is certainly some difference; the Knightleys live in Portland Square, for one thing," replied Miss Bingley. "Do they? I am glad of that, for it means I shall not have to drive so far round to pick Kitty up," was Bingley's cheerful answer, and he moved away to speak to Mr. Hurst, leaving his sisters to their speculations as to how Miss Bennet could have come to know the George Knightleys. Georgiana did not know, but conjectured it was through Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner; and the ladies, though they refrained from showing their perplexity, were even more puzzled to account for the uncle who lived in Cheapside being acquainted with such people of fashion. "Have you seen anything of Fitzwilliam, Louisa?" inquired Bingley of his eldest sister, when he came to have his coffee-cup refilled. "Really, Charles, what a foolish question to ask," replied Mrs. Hurst, with affected carelessness. "Of course we see him frequently when he is in town." "Very good; I hope he will come round while I am here, and, if not, I shall get you to give me his direction, for I must certainly look him up before I go back." Mrs. Hurst made a vague answer, for both she and her sister were sincerely anxious to spare Georgiana any embarrassment, and they would not of their own accord have referred to Fitzwilliam until they knew how she was able to bear the mention of his name in public. Caroline immediately began speaking of another subject, but Georgiana, divining their intentions, felt that she must not indulge in a foolish sensibility which might give her friends a false impression of the state of things; so, summoning all her courage, she said, with a deep blush but a tolerably firm voice: "Yes, I hope my cousin may be in town this month. Elizabeth and my brother gave me many messages for him, if I should see him." She was conscious that the ladies were looking at her in surprise, but that Bingley noticed nothing but the amount of milk Louisa was putting in his coffee was a great help, and Caroline, the next moment, said quietly: "Oh, yes, no doubt he will call," which made it unnecessary for Georgiana to say any more. Bingley, having secured his cup, next produced a notebook and proceeded to write down the address of Fitzwilliam's lodgings and the name of his club, and, as an afterthought, the various engagements to which he had been pledged by his sisters. Georgiana found that Mrs. Hurst and Caroline were anxious she should go with them on the following day to call in Portman Square and meet Mrs. George Knightley. Mrs. Knightley, formerly Emma Woodhouse, had, since her marriage, been able to enjoy a larger measure of the social power and influence in the use of which she had always delighted. Since Mr. Woodhouse's death she had persuaded her husband to go into Parliament, and except for short visits to Donwell, they now lived entirely in London--an arrangement which just suited Emma, who had long desired some stir and variety in her life, after having spent so many unbroken years in a country village. Mr. Knightley still took the greatest interest in the farming of his property, and as soon as he was trustee to his sister-in-law, Mrs. John Knightley, for the estate of Hartfield, which had passed to her on her father's death, he found as much to do out of London as in it; while Emma, though fond of Donwell, had grown weary of the neighbourhood, and took a keen pleasure in forming round her in London a large circle of acquaintances, whom she loved to entertain, and in whose characters and careers she took the deepest interest. Mrs. Knightley's ball had become an annual fixture in the month of June, and this year she had a special incentive for giving it and for making it as gay as possible. At her sister's house she had met Mrs. Gardiner, whose husband had long been a close friend in business of Mr. John Knightley. Mrs. Gardiner was chaperoning a niece, Miss Catherine Bennet, a slender, blooming young girl, and pretty without being very striking; but Mrs. Knightley was impressed with her pleasing manners, and the enthusiasm with which she received the prospect of a theatre party which was being discussed on that occasion. It was the work of a moment for Emma to decide that she must ask her sister to bring Miss Bennet to the ball; but during the remainder of the evening, while she considered and observed, an improvement on the first idea suggested itself; Miss Bennet must be invited to stay in Portman Square for the great occasion. What better arrangement could there be? Isabella would not want to stay late, but young girls liked to dance till the last moment, and she, Emma, would have the benefit of Miss Bennet's help in the preparations, and would be able to introduce her to her partners beforehand. Yes, Miss Bennet was certainly very pretty, prettier than she had appeared at first--such a slim, upright figure, such a profusion of hair, such a delicate fairness of complexion; she would be a great success! It would be as delightful as when last year, the girl who was at the ball as Mrs. Knightley's special friend and prot g e had finished the evening triumphantly becoming engaged to the most eligible man present, Sir William Manvers. Emma felt a thrill at the recollection. The event had justified all her admiration for Sophia Lennox, and Mr. Knightley, who had been so sceptical, had been obliged to admit that sometimes people did marry those whom one had destined for them. There was no Sir William Manvers this year, it was true; but Miss Bennet was still young, and there was plenty of time for the right man to appear. In fact, it was really only her due that she should be properly taken out in London, in order that she might have every chance, and this her aunt, Mrs. Gardiner, was quite evidently not able to give her. What wonder that the upshot of these reflections was a courteous note to Mrs. Gardiner, begging for the pleasure of a visit from Miss Bennet as soon as her stay in Gracechurch Street should be concluded. Kitty was in transports of happiness when all was arranged and she found herself actually Mrs. George Knightley's guest, with a ball in prospect, and each day one round of visits and shopping and other delights, with intervals only long enough to admit of changing one elegant gown for another, for her mother and sisters had taken care she should be provided with an ample wardrobe. She soon ceased to regret not having been allowed to accompany Lydia to the West Indies, and before many days were over had discovered a reason to rejoice that she had not gone. Among Mrs. Knightley's frequent visitors at this time was a young naval lieutenant named William Price, whom she had met a short time previously at the house of the same Mr. Yates who had paid a visit to Bath in the preceding spring. Mr. Yates lived in Cavendish Square, and as his wife was a first cousin of William Price's, they had begged the young man to make their house his home whenever he happened to be in London. Young Price had lately been attached to a ship of the line, the _Andromeda_, which he had been obliged to put into Portsmouth for repairs, and he had been employing some of the period of his enforced leisure in taking up a course of signalling and gunnery, as he was extremely anxious to gain promotion as speedily as possible; but he had found that it was necessary to use other means than those of mere hard work, and at the present time he was living in London, keeping in touch with the Admiralty and endeavouring to recommend himself to every high official and person of influence with whom he could contrive to become acquainted. In the intervals he paid hasty visits to his sisters, who were settled in Northamptonshire, and to his mother at Portsmouth; and being a young man of excellent address, great charm of manner and marked abilities, he had gained a deserved popularity, and could not help enjoying the gaiety of London life, available to him through the hospitality of numerous friends. Mrs. Knightley was extremely pleased with him, and with his next brother, David, who was a clerk in the India Office, and both young men found it a very agreeable house to come to, especially when to the welcome of their hostess was added that of a pretty girl who, warm-hearted and impulsive, did not attempt to conceal her pleasure in their company. David Price was two or three years her junior, and in him Kitty Bennet found only a merry and boyish companion; but the manliness of the young sailor aroused different feelings, and it was not long before she realized that the visits of William Price were becoming the most important thing in her life. She dreamt of him before he came, she had no eyes for anyone else when he was present, and she treasured his words when he had gone; and although she could not honestly read into those words more than a passing friendliness, yet she allowed herself to cherish hopes that each _next_ time there might be something warmer. Poor Kitty had secretly longed to be married ever since she was sixteen; and now at last it seemed as if Destiny itself was working for her, in placing her with so kind a hostess, who was always giving invitations and affording opportunities, and in sending her such a splendid hero of romance to fall in love with, for a hero he was, of a campaign at sea, when he had distinguished himself as much by bravery as he had on shore by industry; a hero with good looks, an assured position, and prize-money saved, and at the present moment with nothing particular to do but fall in love with Miss Kitty Bennet! It was impossible not to feel, under the circumstances, that the course of events was plainly marked out. Mrs. Knightley certainly thought so too, and although she refrained from definite statements, her sympathetic attitude encouraged Kitty to talk herself into hope and self-confidence. The importance of the ball itself in the great scheme of things was not overlooked, and Emma even dreamt now of a brilliant d nouement like last year's. She had invited a large number of people, and was anxious to have as many dancing couples as possible, so Mrs. Hurst's request for permission to bring her brother and Miss Darcy was warmly acceded to, and it was only a matter of regret that their friend Colonel Fitzwilliam could not be induced to go to any balls this season. Kitty was delighted at the prospect of meeting Georgiana again, and when the call spoken of by Mrs. Hurst was being paid, on the day following Georgiana's arrival, she availed herself of a pause in the conversation, and a nod and a smile from Mrs. Knightley, to ask her friend to come to another room for a few moments, on the plea of showing her some new possessions. Georgiana duly admired the bonnets and pelisses, and the gold chain which was Mrs. Knightley's present, and the rose-coloured ball dress which was to make its first appearance on the much-talked-of occasion. Kitty's head was evidently full of this event; she dwelt on it constantly, and from her quick nervous manner Georgiana guessed at some kind of special preoccupation with the subject. "And so you are very happy here, Kitty? Perhaps I need not ask that," she said, as Kitty turned to unfold another new muslin gown. "Oh, very, very happy, perfectly happy," exclaimed Kitty with eagerness. "Mrs. Knightley is so kind, and such nice people come here, you have no idea, Georgiana. Now, do look; is not that beautiful? A real India muslin, and the colour just suits me. You ought to like it, for I bought it with some money Elizabeth gave me." "Yes, dear, I do like it, of course," returned Georgiana; "but tell me some more about yourself. How long were you with the Gardiners?" "I forget just how long, but I came here on the first of June. Oh, I do not know how ever I shall be able to leave! Georgiana, I must tell you! I have been longing to do so, and yet I do not know how I can, after all, for it has not really happened yet. "Of course you have guessed," she went on, in answer to Georgiana's affectionately inquiring glance; "it can only be one thing: but pray do not mention it to anyone, for no one has any idea of it except Mrs. Knightley. It is so wonderful! Georgiana, do you believe in love at first sight?" "I have never thought about it," answered Georgiana honestly, "but I should think it might be possible." "Indeed, indeed, it is possible! It does happen. When you see him, you will know how easily. You will see him on Tuesday night; I do wonder what you will think of him. You must be sure to tell me quite truthfully." "Dear Kitty, you cannot think how glad I am. You mean you are engaged, or just about to be?" "Oh, no, no, no!" exclaimed Kitty, "you do not understand. I think--I hope--but I do not even know if he cares. Sometimes I feel sure he does, and then, again, he seems to be perfectly indifferent, and it is so terrible then, more terrible than you can imagine. But you will see--you will judge for yourself; I shall depend so much upon you for comfort and counsel, especially if Bingley asks him to come down and stay at Desborough, as I mean to persuade him to do." Georgiana was not much enlightened, and her shyness and natural reserve made her hesitate to ask questions on such a subject, which, had she been Kitty, she could not have mentioned to any living creature. But Kitty was evidently longing for sympathy, and poured out her hopes and fears and her reasons for both, mingling with them a description of William Price, painted in the most vivid colours and emphasizing his courage and distinction as an officer, his amiability as a man, his perfection as a ball-room partner, and the high opinion Mr. Knightley and all sensible men had formed of him. Georgiana listened, and was interested almost against her will; she had known Kitty to take fancies several times before for persons who had not returned her regard or thought of doing so; but in this case, from what she could gather, the young man seemed really to deserve Kitty's enthusiasm; they had met under Mrs. Knightley's auspices, he had been very often at the house, and certainly, everything considered, it was much more likely that he should fall in love with Kitty than not. Nevertheless, she hardly knew how to answer her; to encourage her in hopes which might prove false would be the cruellest kindness, so, while, murmuring her wishes for her friend's happiness, she agreed that she must wait for the evening of the ball before she could really tell how far Kitty's dreams were likely to be realized. They talked so long that eventually she had to propose a return to the drawing-room, fearing to be guilty of discourtesy towards Mrs. Knightley; but she was glad that only a moment was left for Kitty's hurried inquiry about her own affairs, as they hastened down the staircase, and that she could therefore dismiss the subject with a light word. Kitty was scarcely satisfied, but finding that Georgiana could not be induced to speak of Colonel Fitzwilliam, returned to her own all-absorbing topic with the remark, "I do wish you could meet someone just like my dear Mr. Price!" Chapter IX The next few days passed rapidly for both girls, and were so full of engagements that they were not able to arrange another meeting, and Georgiana deeply regretted the fact that, except for a glimpse of her at the ball, she should not see Kitty again before Bingley's departure from town. She could only hope that all would go well, and looked forward to a fuller intercourse in Derbyshire in a few weeks' time. Meanwhile, there were many friends to see, and Georgiana would have enjoyed herself thoroughly had she not dreaded the first meeting with Colonel Fitzwilliam, which she felt hanging over her, since Bingley had called on the Colonel and reported him to be in town, but which she did not know when to expect. A slight change in her plans, necessitating a short absence from Mr. Hurst's house, led her to imagine that it would be temporarily averted; but on the very day of the ball, when she and her hostesses had remained at home, and a larger number of visitors than usual happened to be in the room, she experienced a painful shock on hearing his name announced and on seeing him walk into the room. Next moment she was angry with herself for losing her composure, even momentarily, and bracing herself for a possible encounter, she endeavoured to continue to bear her part in a conversation with two or three of Mrs. Hurst's friends, who, she realized gratefully, were strangers to her until that day. It was some minutes afterwards that she was aware of Colonel Fitzwilliam approaching her, guided by Miss Bingley, whose kindly intentions of making the occasion as ordinary as possible only served to intensify its discomfort. Georgiana, however, thought the fault all hers, as, not reassured at all by Caroline's cheerful "Colonel Fitzwilliam was so glad to hear you were staying with us, Georgiana," she found herself only just able to give him her hand with an almost inaudible greeting, while her face, suffused with deepest blushes, must, she felt, have made her noticeable to all around. It was Colonel Fitzwilliam's part to set her at her ease, which he did, to some extent with a few kindly and naturally-expressed sentences, inquiring about her journey, and the health of those she had left behind. Georgiana presently ventured to let her eyes rest on him, and was startled to see how much older he looked even in the short time since she'd seen him, and how ill and worn. A terror seized her heart that she might be guilty of these altered looks, but it passed in an instant; there was not any doubt that their parting had been for the good of both; but poor Cousin Robert, it was plain to see that he had been suffering, from whatever cause, and her sympathy went out to him unconsciously, even while she could hardly talk to him from embarrassment of knowing that Caroline Bingley was standing by, apparently occupied with other people, but drawing conclusions from every word she could hear. "I had intended coming to see you, anyhow, Georgiana," said Fitzwilliam, "but I am very busy, you know--I do not go out much; and you live in a perpetual whirl of gaiety, I expect." He smiled as he spoke, and Georgiana tried to answer in the same spirit, telling him that they had a good many plans, and people were very kind, but she was not really in a whirl, in fact, the very next morning she was leaving for Grosvenor Street for a few days, to spend them quietly with her old friend Mrs. Annesley, who lived in Hans Place, quite away from the bustle of London. "Mrs. Annesley?" repeated Fitzwilliam; "of course I remember her; she will enjoy having you, but how have Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley become reconciled to parting with you even for a week?" Georgiana explained hurriedly that it had been quite a sudden engagement; her old friend had been to see her, and had begged for a short visit from her, if possible, for Mrs. Annesley was on the point of going to India, to live with a married son who had lost his wife, and she might not have the opportunity of seeing her former pupil again for many years. Georgiana had been happy in the opportunity of going to her friend at such a time; her present hostesses had acquiesced, and a week was to be spared to Mrs. Annesley. "But it will be made up in Grosvenor Street next month, I assume," said Colonel Fitzwilliam. "I hardly know--I believe Elizabeth and my brother want me at home again soon--but of course I like being here too," said Georgiana, stumbling over her words, and feeling that she was disgracing herself. If only Caroline would not stand there and seem to be observing them so closely! She did not believe it would be so distressing to talk to Cousin Robert if only they could be together somewhere among strangers. This thought impelled her to ask him, quite at random, for she had every reason to know what his reply would be, whether he was going to Mrs. Knightley's ball. "I am afraid not, Georgiana. I think I am getting too old for balls; but I wish you a great deal of pleasure there." "Oh, Cousin Robert, you are not too old, but you--" she checked herself in this impetuous speech, and ended rather confusedly, "but you look tired"; which was not what she would have wished to say. Her cousin glanced kindly at her, but turned her remark off with a laugh; and as he seemed about to move away, Georgiana, in desperation, and astonished at herself, said timidly: "I hope we may meet again, even though you do not go to balls." "I hope so, too, Georgiana. But of course we shall. I must come some morning and take you all to Kensington Gardens." Georgiana felt that this would not be a great improvement on the present situation, but she could not say any more, and supposed their conversation was at an end, when Fitzwilliam, who had made a step from her, seemed struck with a sudden idea, and turned to her again, saying: "May I come and call on you at Mrs. Annesley's? She will perhaps remember me and--I may not be in town later on." Georgiana flushed with surprise and pleasure, and her eager assent left Fitzwilliam in no doubt as to his reception. He stayed only to assure himself of the number of Mrs. Annesley's house, then bowed and walked rapidly away, as Miss Bingley approached with the evident intention of breaking up their conclave. Georgiana had to submit to a certain amount of comment from the sisters, who, while condoling with her for having had to pass through a uncomfortable few minutes, appeared surprised that she should have been able to talk to Colonel Fitzwilliam, but she herself felt nothing but happiness in having met her cousin again, and found it possible to think of being on those terms with him that Elizabeth had predicted. She spent a part of the afternoon in writing a long letter to her sister, telling her what had happened; but she did not like to send an account of her cousin that might alarm them at home, so she contented herself with saying that he was not looking at all well, and that she wished Elizabeth would persuade him to go down to Pemberley, as he must be working too hard in London. She concluded her writing with the words, "I will leave this open till to-morrow, dear Elizabeth, that I may tell you about the ball, and how Kitty looked." Kitty, indeed, was the chief subject of her thoughts when they dwelt upon the prospect of the evening, and when the time for dressing arrived Kitty's rose-coloured silk occupied her mind far more than her own white satin and pearls. When Mr. and Mrs. Hurst's party entered the ante-room where Mrs. Knightley was receiving her guests, the two girls managed to exchange a few words, and Georgiana gathered that the hero of the evening had not yet appeared, but Kitty was separated from her by the crowd of arrivals, and so it eventually came about that it was their hostess who performed the introduction of Mr. William Price to Miss Darcy. Georgiana's first thought, when she looked at the noble brow and clear blue eye of the young man, was that Kitty's attachment was easily understood, and each moment that she spent in his company strengthened that assurance. She was desirous of liking him, eager to find everything to praise in the admired--and perhaps the admirer--of her friend, and the opportunity came at once in the infectious gaiety and good spirits of the young man and the unaffected warmth of his manner. He asked her for the honour of her hand in several dances; but the first two, she noticed, he danced with Kitty, and from the sparkle in Kitty's eye, and her quick movement as he approached to claim them, Georgiana conjectured that the engagement had been made previously. When Georgiana's turn came, among the excellencies that she discovered in her partner was that of being a perfect dancer; and, moreover, one who moved through the set as if he enjoyed every step. Somewhat shyly she commented on this. "Yes, indeed, Miss Darcy, I am fond of dancing; I began very early, when I was such a small person that you probably wouldn't have seen me in a room, much less have danced with me. We all used to jump about as children, I believe; and on board ship one somehow managed to learn, so as to be ready for the balls." "Were there balls so often?" asked Georgiana. "Yes; wherever we were stationed somebody always seized the opportunity to give a ball, either a private person, or the Governor, or the regiment, or someone. There seems to be a connection established in people's minds between naval men and dancing; anyhow, as soon as there were a few days' quiet, someone would produce musicians and a waxed floor, and we were expected to go and perform. So I decided that I had better like it." "You are a very fortunate person to be able to be able to like

godless

How many times the word 'godless' appears in the text?

Brandon's death, that there had not been time for much intercourse between them and the Darcys, though Elizabeth had been greatly pleased with what she had seen of Mrs. Ferrars. Since the former's return from Bath, and after her experiences there of the other branch of the family, she could appreciate fully the immense superiority of the Edward Ferrars over their relations. Ferrars himself was too quiet, diffident, and reserved a man to recommend himself easily, but in his wife all recognized a woman of a rare and noble nature, distinguished alike by the sweetness of her character and by its strength. The Darcys rejoiced in the increased opportunities of meeting afforded by the presence of their guest, and various walks, drives and out-of-doors excursions were organized, for which the glorious weather of early June afforded every opportunity. The first diminution their party suffered was in the departure of Georgiana for London, which occurred on the seventeenth of the month. The visit had long been talked of, and Georgiana really looked forward with no little pleasure to seeing her old friends, for Caroline Bingley and Louisa took pains not to show to her, of whom they were exceedingly fond, the cold-hearted and worldly aspect of their dispositions; but when she found herself actually in the travelling carriage with Bingley, with her maid seated opposite, she felt, as she did every year, the sensation of leaving all that she cared for behind her, and of entering scenes alarming because unfamiliar. Bingley good-naturedly endeavoured to divert her in every way, talked of the pleasures awaiting her, and of the friends she would see in London, Kitty Bennet and Mrs. Annesley, besides her hostesses, and casually mentioned the possibility of her coming across Colonel Fitzwilliam. Georgiana had been prepared for this by Elizabeth, and had first shrunk from the idea; but afterwards became reconciled to the view put before her, that the first meeting, which must necessarily be painful, must come some time, and it would be best to get it over in a crowd, with a few ordinary words of greeting, which would put them on a comfortable footing for the future. She, therefore, made an effort to reply cheerfully to all Bingley's suggestions, and had not found the journey tedious when they drew up in Grosvenor Street in time for dinner on the third day. Caroline and Louisa could not make enough of her, and the evening was spent in talking over the plans they had formed for her amusement, and in detailing the engagements they had entered into. It soon appeared that the ball which Bingley had mentioned was on their list; for they were also acquainted with Mrs. George Knightley, whose entertainment it was, and had secured invitations from her for their brother and their young friend. Bingley inquired of the date of the ball, explaining how it affected his movements; and his sisters endeavoured to conceal their surprise on hearing that Miss Kitty Bennet was staying with the Knightleys. "I thought, when you spoke of coming to fetch her, Charles, that she was with her uncle and aunt in Gracechurch Street," said Miss Bingley. "To tell the truth, I was not very clear about it myself," returned Bingley. "Jane told me that she was going to stay over this ball, but whether she was with the Gardiners or the Knightleys I did not make out until just before we came away. It does not make a vast deal of difference, to my thinking." "There is certainly some difference; the Knightleys live in Portland Square, for one thing," replied Miss Bingley. "Do they? I am glad of that, for it means I shall not have to drive so far round to pick Kitty up," was Bingley's cheerful answer, and he moved away to speak to Mr. Hurst, leaving his sisters to their speculations as to how Miss Bennet could have come to know the George Knightleys. Georgiana did not know, but conjectured it was through Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner; and the ladies, though they refrained from showing their perplexity, were even more puzzled to account for the uncle who lived in Cheapside being acquainted with such people of fashion. "Have you seen anything of Fitzwilliam, Louisa?" inquired Bingley of his eldest sister, when he came to have his coffee-cup refilled. "Really, Charles, what a foolish question to ask," replied Mrs. Hurst, with affected carelessness. "Of course we see him frequently when he is in town." "Very good; I hope he will come round while I am here, and, if not, I shall get you to give me his direction, for I must certainly look him up before I go back." Mrs. Hurst made a vague answer, for both she and her sister were sincerely anxious to spare Georgiana any embarrassment, and they would not of their own accord have referred to Fitzwilliam until they knew how she was able to bear the mention of his name in public. Caroline immediately began speaking of another subject, but Georgiana, divining their intentions, felt that she must not indulge in a foolish sensibility which might give her friends a false impression of the state of things; so, summoning all her courage, she said, with a deep blush but a tolerably firm voice: "Yes, I hope my cousin may be in town this month. Elizabeth and my brother gave me many messages for him, if I should see him." She was conscious that the ladies were looking at her in surprise, but that Bingley noticed nothing but the amount of milk Louisa was putting in his coffee was a great help, and Caroline, the next moment, said quietly: "Oh, yes, no doubt he will call," which made it unnecessary for Georgiana to say any more. Bingley, having secured his cup, next produced a notebook and proceeded to write down the address of Fitzwilliam's lodgings and the name of his club, and, as an afterthought, the various engagements to which he had been pledged by his sisters. Georgiana found that Mrs. Hurst and Caroline were anxious she should go with them on the following day to call in Portman Square and meet Mrs. George Knightley. Mrs. Knightley, formerly Emma Woodhouse, had, since her marriage, been able to enjoy a larger measure of the social power and influence in the use of which she had always delighted. Since Mr. Woodhouse's death she had persuaded her husband to go into Parliament, and except for short visits to Donwell, they now lived entirely in London--an arrangement which just suited Emma, who had long desired some stir and variety in her life, after having spent so many unbroken years in a country village. Mr. Knightley still took the greatest interest in the farming of his property, and as soon as he was trustee to his sister-in-law, Mrs. John Knightley, for the estate of Hartfield, which had passed to her on her father's death, he found as much to do out of London as in it; while Emma, though fond of Donwell, had grown weary of the neighbourhood, and took a keen pleasure in forming round her in London a large circle of acquaintances, whom she loved to entertain, and in whose characters and careers she took the deepest interest. Mrs. Knightley's ball had become an annual fixture in the month of June, and this year she had a special incentive for giving it and for making it as gay as possible. At her sister's house she had met Mrs. Gardiner, whose husband had long been a close friend in business of Mr. John Knightley. Mrs. Gardiner was chaperoning a niece, Miss Catherine Bennet, a slender, blooming young girl, and pretty without being very striking; but Mrs. Knightley was impressed with her pleasing manners, and the enthusiasm with which she received the prospect of a theatre party which was being discussed on that occasion. It was the work of a moment for Emma to decide that she must ask her sister to bring Miss Bennet to the ball; but during the remainder of the evening, while she considered and observed, an improvement on the first idea suggested itself; Miss Bennet must be invited to stay in Portman Square for the great occasion. What better arrangement could there be? Isabella would not want to stay late, but young girls liked to dance till the last moment, and she, Emma, would have the benefit of Miss Bennet's help in the preparations, and would be able to introduce her to her partners beforehand. Yes, Miss Bennet was certainly very pretty, prettier than she had appeared at first--such a slim, upright figure, such a profusion of hair, such a delicate fairness of complexion; she would be a great success! It would be as delightful as when last year, the girl who was at the ball as Mrs. Knightley's special friend and prot g e had finished the evening triumphantly becoming engaged to the most eligible man present, Sir William Manvers. Emma felt a thrill at the recollection. The event had justified all her admiration for Sophia Lennox, and Mr. Knightley, who had been so sceptical, had been obliged to admit that sometimes people did marry those whom one had destined for them. There was no Sir William Manvers this year, it was true; but Miss Bennet was still young, and there was plenty of time for the right man to appear. In fact, it was really only her due that she should be properly taken out in London, in order that she might have every chance, and this her aunt, Mrs. Gardiner, was quite evidently not able to give her. What wonder that the upshot of these reflections was a courteous note to Mrs. Gardiner, begging for the pleasure of a visit from Miss Bennet as soon as her stay in Gracechurch Street should be concluded. Kitty was in transports of happiness when all was arranged and she found herself actually Mrs. George Knightley's guest, with a ball in prospect, and each day one round of visits and shopping and other delights, with intervals only long enough to admit of changing one elegant gown for another, for her mother and sisters had taken care she should be provided with an ample wardrobe. She soon ceased to regret not having been allowed to accompany Lydia to the West Indies, and before many days were over had discovered a reason to rejoice that she had not gone. Among Mrs. Knightley's frequent visitors at this time was a young naval lieutenant named William Price, whom she had met a short time previously at the house of the same Mr. Yates who had paid a visit to Bath in the preceding spring. Mr. Yates lived in Cavendish Square, and as his wife was a first cousin of William Price's, they had begged the young man to make their house his home whenever he happened to be in London. Young Price had lately been attached to a ship of the line, the _Andromeda_, which he had been obliged to put into Portsmouth for repairs, and he had been employing some of the period of his enforced leisure in taking up a course of signalling and gunnery, as he was extremely anxious to gain promotion as speedily as possible; but he had found that it was necessary to use other means than those of mere hard work, and at the present time he was living in London, keeping in touch with the Admiralty and endeavouring to recommend himself to every high official and person of influence with whom he could contrive to become acquainted. In the intervals he paid hasty visits to his sisters, who were settled in Northamptonshire, and to his mother at Portsmouth; and being a young man of excellent address, great charm of manner and marked abilities, he had gained a deserved popularity, and could not help enjoying the gaiety of London life, available to him through the hospitality of numerous friends. Mrs. Knightley was extremely pleased with him, and with his next brother, David, who was a clerk in the India Office, and both young men found it a very agreeable house to come to, especially when to the welcome of their hostess was added that of a pretty girl who, warm-hearted and impulsive, did not attempt to conceal her pleasure in their company. David Price was two or three years her junior, and in him Kitty Bennet found only a merry and boyish companion; but the manliness of the young sailor aroused different feelings, and it was not long before she realized that the visits of William Price were becoming the most important thing in her life. She dreamt of him before he came, she had no eyes for anyone else when he was present, and she treasured his words when he had gone; and although she could not honestly read into those words more than a passing friendliness, yet she allowed herself to cherish hopes that each _next_ time there might be something warmer. Poor Kitty had secretly longed to be married ever since she was sixteen; and now at last it seemed as if Destiny itself was working for her, in placing her with so kind a hostess, who was always giving invitations and affording opportunities, and in sending her such a splendid hero of romance to fall in love with, for a hero he was, of a campaign at sea, when he had distinguished himself as much by bravery as he had on shore by industry; a hero with good looks, an assured position, and prize-money saved, and at the present moment with nothing particular to do but fall in love with Miss Kitty Bennet! It was impossible not to feel, under the circumstances, that the course of events was plainly marked out. Mrs. Knightley certainly thought so too, and although she refrained from definite statements, her sympathetic attitude encouraged Kitty to talk herself into hope and self-confidence. The importance of the ball itself in the great scheme of things was not overlooked, and Emma even dreamt now of a brilliant d nouement like last year's. She had invited a large number of people, and was anxious to have as many dancing couples as possible, so Mrs. Hurst's request for permission to bring her brother and Miss Darcy was warmly acceded to, and it was only a matter of regret that their friend Colonel Fitzwilliam could not be induced to go to any balls this season. Kitty was delighted at the prospect of meeting Georgiana again, and when the call spoken of by Mrs. Hurst was being paid, on the day following Georgiana's arrival, she availed herself of a pause in the conversation, and a nod and a smile from Mrs. Knightley, to ask her friend to come to another room for a few moments, on the plea of showing her some new possessions. Georgiana duly admired the bonnets and pelisses, and the gold chain which was Mrs. Knightley's present, and the rose-coloured ball dress which was to make its first appearance on the much-talked-of occasion. Kitty's head was evidently full of this event; she dwelt on it constantly, and from her quick nervous manner Georgiana guessed at some kind of special preoccupation with the subject. "And so you are very happy here, Kitty? Perhaps I need not ask that," she said, as Kitty turned to unfold another new muslin gown. "Oh, very, very happy, perfectly happy," exclaimed Kitty with eagerness. "Mrs. Knightley is so kind, and such nice people come here, you have no idea, Georgiana. Now, do look; is not that beautiful? A real India muslin, and the colour just suits me. You ought to like it, for I bought it with some money Elizabeth gave me." "Yes, dear, I do like it, of course," returned Georgiana; "but tell me some more about yourself. How long were you with the Gardiners?" "I forget just how long, but I came here on the first of June. Oh, I do not know how ever I shall be able to leave! Georgiana, I must tell you! I have been longing to do so, and yet I do not know how I can, after all, for it has not really happened yet. "Of course you have guessed," she went on, in answer to Georgiana's affectionately inquiring glance; "it can only be one thing: but pray do not mention it to anyone, for no one has any idea of it except Mrs. Knightley. It is so wonderful! Georgiana, do you believe in love at first sight?" "I have never thought about it," answered Georgiana honestly, "but I should think it might be possible." "Indeed, indeed, it is possible! It does happen. When you see him, you will know how easily. You will see him on Tuesday night; I do wonder what you will think of him. You must be sure to tell me quite truthfully." "Dear Kitty, you cannot think how glad I am. You mean you are engaged, or just about to be?" "Oh, no, no, no!" exclaimed Kitty, "you do not understand. I think--I hope--but I do not even know if he cares. Sometimes I feel sure he does, and then, again, he seems to be perfectly indifferent, and it is so terrible then, more terrible than you can imagine. But you will see--you will judge for yourself; I shall depend so much upon you for comfort and counsel, especially if Bingley asks him to come down and stay at Desborough, as I mean to persuade him to do." Georgiana was not much enlightened, and her shyness and natural reserve made her hesitate to ask questions on such a subject, which, had she been Kitty, she could not have mentioned to any living creature. But Kitty was evidently longing for sympathy, and poured out her hopes and fears and her reasons for both, mingling with them a description of William Price, painted in the most vivid colours and emphasizing his courage and distinction as an officer, his amiability as a man, his perfection as a ball-room partner, and the high opinion Mr. Knightley and all sensible men had formed of him. Georgiana listened, and was interested almost against her will; she had known Kitty to take fancies several times before for persons who had not returned her regard or thought of doing so; but in this case, from what she could gather, the young man seemed really to deserve Kitty's enthusiasm; they had met under Mrs. Knightley's auspices, he had been very often at the house, and certainly, everything considered, it was much more likely that he should fall in love with Kitty than not. Nevertheless, she hardly knew how to answer her; to encourage her in hopes which might prove false would be the cruellest kindness, so, while, murmuring her wishes for her friend's happiness, she agreed that she must wait for the evening of the ball before she could really tell how far Kitty's dreams were likely to be realized. They talked so long that eventually she had to propose a return to the drawing-room, fearing to be guilty of discourtesy towards Mrs. Knightley; but she was glad that only a moment was left for Kitty's hurried inquiry about her own affairs, as they hastened down the staircase, and that she could therefore dismiss the subject with a light word. Kitty was scarcely satisfied, but finding that Georgiana could not be induced to speak of Colonel Fitzwilliam, returned to her own all-absorbing topic with the remark, "I do wish you could meet someone just like my dear Mr. Price!" Chapter IX The next few days passed rapidly for both girls, and were so full of engagements that they were not able to arrange another meeting, and Georgiana deeply regretted the fact that, except for a glimpse of her at the ball, she should not see Kitty again before Bingley's departure from town. She could only hope that all would go well, and looked forward to a fuller intercourse in Derbyshire in a few weeks' time. Meanwhile, there were many friends to see, and Georgiana would have enjoyed herself thoroughly had she not dreaded the first meeting with Colonel Fitzwilliam, which she felt hanging over her, since Bingley had called on the Colonel and reported him to be in town, but which she did not know when to expect. A slight change in her plans, necessitating a short absence from Mr. Hurst's house, led her to imagine that it would be temporarily averted; but on the very day of the ball, when she and her hostesses had remained at home, and a larger number of visitors than usual happened to be in the room, she experienced a painful shock on hearing his name announced and on seeing him walk into the room. Next moment she was angry with herself for losing her composure, even momentarily, and bracing herself for a possible encounter, she endeavoured to continue to bear her part in a conversation with two or three of Mrs. Hurst's friends, who, she realized gratefully, were strangers to her until that day. It was some minutes afterwards that she was aware of Colonel Fitzwilliam approaching her, guided by Miss Bingley, whose kindly intentions of making the occasion as ordinary as possible only served to intensify its discomfort. Georgiana, however, thought the fault all hers, as, not reassured at all by Caroline's cheerful "Colonel Fitzwilliam was so glad to hear you were staying with us, Georgiana," she found herself only just able to give him her hand with an almost inaudible greeting, while her face, suffused with deepest blushes, must, she felt, have made her noticeable to all around. It was Colonel Fitzwilliam's part to set her at her ease, which he did, to some extent with a few kindly and naturally-expressed sentences, inquiring about her journey, and the health of those she had left behind. Georgiana presently ventured to let her eyes rest on him, and was startled to see how much older he looked even in the short time since she'd seen him, and how ill and worn. A terror seized her heart that she might be guilty of these altered looks, but it passed in an instant; there was not any doubt that their parting had been for the good of both; but poor Cousin Robert, it was plain to see that he had been suffering, from whatever cause, and her sympathy went out to him unconsciously, even while she could hardly talk to him from embarrassment of knowing that Caroline Bingley was standing by, apparently occupied with other people, but drawing conclusions from every word she could hear. "I had intended coming to see you, anyhow, Georgiana," said Fitzwilliam, "but I am very busy, you know--I do not go out much; and you live in a perpetual whirl of gaiety, I expect." He smiled as he spoke, and Georgiana tried to answer in the same spirit, telling him that they had a good many plans, and people were very kind, but she was not really in a whirl, in fact, the very next morning she was leaving for Grosvenor Street for a few days, to spend them quietly with her old friend Mrs. Annesley, who lived in Hans Place, quite away from the bustle of London. "Mrs. Annesley?" repeated Fitzwilliam; "of course I remember her; she will enjoy having you, but how have Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley become reconciled to parting with you even for a week?" Georgiana explained hurriedly that it had been quite a sudden engagement; her old friend had been to see her, and had begged for a short visit from her, if possible, for Mrs. Annesley was on the point of going to India, to live with a married son who had lost his wife, and she might not have the opportunity of seeing her former pupil again for many years. Georgiana had been happy in the opportunity of going to her friend at such a time; her present hostesses had acquiesced, and a week was to be spared to Mrs. Annesley. "But it will be made up in Grosvenor Street next month, I assume," said Colonel Fitzwilliam. "I hardly know--I believe Elizabeth and my brother want me at home again soon--but of course I like being here too," said Georgiana, stumbling over her words, and feeling that she was disgracing herself. If only Caroline would not stand there and seem to be observing them so closely! She did not believe it would be so distressing to talk to Cousin Robert if only they could be together somewhere among strangers. This thought impelled her to ask him, quite at random, for she had every reason to know what his reply would be, whether he was going to Mrs. Knightley's ball. "I am afraid not, Georgiana. I think I am getting too old for balls; but I wish you a great deal of pleasure there." "Oh, Cousin Robert, you are not too old, but you--" she checked herself in this impetuous speech, and ended rather confusedly, "but you look tired"; which was not what she would have wished to say. Her cousin glanced kindly at her, but turned her remark off with a laugh; and as he seemed about to move away, Georgiana, in desperation, and astonished at herself, said timidly: "I hope we may meet again, even though you do not go to balls." "I hope so, too, Georgiana. But of course we shall. I must come some morning and take you all to Kensington Gardens." Georgiana felt that this would not be a great improvement on the present situation, but she could not say any more, and supposed their conversation was at an end, when Fitzwilliam, who had made a step from her, seemed struck with a sudden idea, and turned to her again, saying: "May I come and call on you at Mrs. Annesley's? She will perhaps remember me and--I may not be in town later on." Georgiana flushed with surprise and pleasure, and her eager assent left Fitzwilliam in no doubt as to his reception. He stayed only to assure himself of the number of Mrs. Annesley's house, then bowed and walked rapidly away, as Miss Bingley approached with the evident intention of breaking up their conclave. Georgiana had to submit to a certain amount of comment from the sisters, who, while condoling with her for having had to pass through a uncomfortable few minutes, appeared surprised that she should have been able to talk to Colonel Fitzwilliam, but she herself felt nothing but happiness in having met her cousin again, and found it possible to think of being on those terms with him that Elizabeth had predicted. She spent a part of the afternoon in writing a long letter to her sister, telling her what had happened; but she did not like to send an account of her cousin that might alarm them at home, so she contented herself with saying that he was not looking at all well, and that she wished Elizabeth would persuade him to go down to Pemberley, as he must be working too hard in London. She concluded her writing with the words, "I will leave this open till to-morrow, dear Elizabeth, that I may tell you about the ball, and how Kitty looked." Kitty, indeed, was the chief subject of her thoughts when they dwelt upon the prospect of the evening, and when the time for dressing arrived Kitty's rose-coloured silk occupied her mind far more than her own white satin and pearls. When Mr. and Mrs. Hurst's party entered the ante-room where Mrs. Knightley was receiving her guests, the two girls managed to exchange a few words, and Georgiana gathered that the hero of the evening had not yet appeared, but Kitty was separated from her by the crowd of arrivals, and so it eventually came about that it was their hostess who performed the introduction of Mr. William Price to Miss Darcy. Georgiana's first thought, when she looked at the noble brow and clear blue eye of the young man, was that Kitty's attachment was easily understood, and each moment that she spent in his company strengthened that assurance. She was desirous of liking him, eager to find everything to praise in the admired--and perhaps the admirer--of her friend, and the opportunity came at once in the infectious gaiety and good spirits of the young man and the unaffected warmth of his manner. He asked her for the honour of her hand in several dances; but the first two, she noticed, he danced with Kitty, and from the sparkle in Kitty's eye, and her quick movement as he approached to claim them, Georgiana conjectured that the engagement had been made previously. When Georgiana's turn came, among the excellencies that she discovered in her partner was that of being a perfect dancer; and, moreover, one who moved through the set as if he enjoyed every step. Somewhat shyly she commented on this. "Yes, indeed, Miss Darcy, I am fond of dancing; I began very early, when I was such a small person that you probably wouldn't have seen me in a room, much less have danced with me. We all used to jump about as children, I believe; and on board ship one somehow managed to learn, so as to be ready for the balls." "Were there balls so often?" asked Georgiana. "Yes; wherever we were stationed somebody always seized the opportunity to give a ball, either a private person, or the Governor, or the regiment, or someone. There seems to be a connection established in people's minds between naval men and dancing; anyhow, as soon as there were a few days' quiet, someone would produce musicians and a waxed floor, and we were expected to go and perform. So I decided that I had better like it." "You are a very fortunate person to be able to be able to like

attitude

How many times the word 'attitude' appears in the text?

Brandon's death, that there had not been time for much intercourse between them and the Darcys, though Elizabeth had been greatly pleased with what she had seen of Mrs. Ferrars. Since the former's return from Bath, and after her experiences there of the other branch of the family, she could appreciate fully the immense superiority of the Edward Ferrars over their relations. Ferrars himself was too quiet, diffident, and reserved a man to recommend himself easily, but in his wife all recognized a woman of a rare and noble nature, distinguished alike by the sweetness of her character and by its strength. The Darcys rejoiced in the increased opportunities of meeting afforded by the presence of their guest, and various walks, drives and out-of-doors excursions were organized, for which the glorious weather of early June afforded every opportunity. The first diminution their party suffered was in the departure of Georgiana for London, which occurred on the seventeenth of the month. The visit had long been talked of, and Georgiana really looked forward with no little pleasure to seeing her old friends, for Caroline Bingley and Louisa took pains not to show to her, of whom they were exceedingly fond, the cold-hearted and worldly aspect of their dispositions; but when she found herself actually in the travelling carriage with Bingley, with her maid seated opposite, she felt, as she did every year, the sensation of leaving all that she cared for behind her, and of entering scenes alarming because unfamiliar. Bingley good-naturedly endeavoured to divert her in every way, talked of the pleasures awaiting her, and of the friends she would see in London, Kitty Bennet and Mrs. Annesley, besides her hostesses, and casually mentioned the possibility of her coming across Colonel Fitzwilliam. Georgiana had been prepared for this by Elizabeth, and had first shrunk from the idea; but afterwards became reconciled to the view put before her, that the first meeting, which must necessarily be painful, must come some time, and it would be best to get it over in a crowd, with a few ordinary words of greeting, which would put them on a comfortable footing for the future. She, therefore, made an effort to reply cheerfully to all Bingley's suggestions, and had not found the journey tedious when they drew up in Grosvenor Street in time for dinner on the third day. Caroline and Louisa could not make enough of her, and the evening was spent in talking over the plans they had formed for her amusement, and in detailing the engagements they had entered into. It soon appeared that the ball which Bingley had mentioned was on their list; for they were also acquainted with Mrs. George Knightley, whose entertainment it was, and had secured invitations from her for their brother and their young friend. Bingley inquired of the date of the ball, explaining how it affected his movements; and his sisters endeavoured to conceal their surprise on hearing that Miss Kitty Bennet was staying with the Knightleys. "I thought, when you spoke of coming to fetch her, Charles, that she was with her uncle and aunt in Gracechurch Street," said Miss Bingley. "To tell the truth, I was not very clear about it myself," returned Bingley. "Jane told me that she was going to stay over this ball, but whether she was with the Gardiners or the Knightleys I did not make out until just before we came away. It does not make a vast deal of difference, to my thinking." "There is certainly some difference; the Knightleys live in Portland Square, for one thing," replied Miss Bingley. "Do they? I am glad of that, for it means I shall not have to drive so far round to pick Kitty up," was Bingley's cheerful answer, and he moved away to speak to Mr. Hurst, leaving his sisters to their speculations as to how Miss Bennet could have come to know the George Knightleys. Georgiana did not know, but conjectured it was through Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner; and the ladies, though they refrained from showing their perplexity, were even more puzzled to account for the uncle who lived in Cheapside being acquainted with such people of fashion. "Have you seen anything of Fitzwilliam, Louisa?" inquired Bingley of his eldest sister, when he came to have his coffee-cup refilled. "Really, Charles, what a foolish question to ask," replied Mrs. Hurst, with affected carelessness. "Of course we see him frequently when he is in town." "Very good; I hope he will come round while I am here, and, if not, I shall get you to give me his direction, for I must certainly look him up before I go back." Mrs. Hurst made a vague answer, for both she and her sister were sincerely anxious to spare Georgiana any embarrassment, and they would not of their own accord have referred to Fitzwilliam until they knew how she was able to bear the mention of his name in public. Caroline immediately began speaking of another subject, but Georgiana, divining their intentions, felt that she must not indulge in a foolish sensibility which might give her friends a false impression of the state of things; so, summoning all her courage, she said, with a deep blush but a tolerably firm voice: "Yes, I hope my cousin may be in town this month. Elizabeth and my brother gave me many messages for him, if I should see him." She was conscious that the ladies were looking at her in surprise, but that Bingley noticed nothing but the amount of milk Louisa was putting in his coffee was a great help, and Caroline, the next moment, said quietly: "Oh, yes, no doubt he will call," which made it unnecessary for Georgiana to say any more. Bingley, having secured his cup, next produced a notebook and proceeded to write down the address of Fitzwilliam's lodgings and the name of his club, and, as an afterthought, the various engagements to which he had been pledged by his sisters. Georgiana found that Mrs. Hurst and Caroline were anxious she should go with them on the following day to call in Portman Square and meet Mrs. George Knightley. Mrs. Knightley, formerly Emma Woodhouse, had, since her marriage, been able to enjoy a larger measure of the social power and influence in the use of which she had always delighted. Since Mr. Woodhouse's death she had persuaded her husband to go into Parliament, and except for short visits to Donwell, they now lived entirely in London--an arrangement which just suited Emma, who had long desired some stir and variety in her life, after having spent so many unbroken years in a country village. Mr. Knightley still took the greatest interest in the farming of his property, and as soon as he was trustee to his sister-in-law, Mrs. John Knightley, for the estate of Hartfield, which had passed to her on her father's death, he found as much to do out of London as in it; while Emma, though fond of Donwell, had grown weary of the neighbourhood, and took a keen pleasure in forming round her in London a large circle of acquaintances, whom she loved to entertain, and in whose characters and careers she took the deepest interest. Mrs. Knightley's ball had become an annual fixture in the month of June, and this year she had a special incentive for giving it and for making it as gay as possible. At her sister's house she had met Mrs. Gardiner, whose husband had long been a close friend in business of Mr. John Knightley. Mrs. Gardiner was chaperoning a niece, Miss Catherine Bennet, a slender, blooming young girl, and pretty without being very striking; but Mrs. Knightley was impressed with her pleasing manners, and the enthusiasm with which she received the prospect of a theatre party which was being discussed on that occasion. It was the work of a moment for Emma to decide that she must ask her sister to bring Miss Bennet to the ball; but during the remainder of the evening, while she considered and observed, an improvement on the first idea suggested itself; Miss Bennet must be invited to stay in Portman Square for the great occasion. What better arrangement could there be? Isabella would not want to stay late, but young girls liked to dance till the last moment, and she, Emma, would have the benefit of Miss Bennet's help in the preparations, and would be able to introduce her to her partners beforehand. Yes, Miss Bennet was certainly very pretty, prettier than she had appeared at first--such a slim, upright figure, such a profusion of hair, such a delicate fairness of complexion; she would be a great success! It would be as delightful as when last year, the girl who was at the ball as Mrs. Knightley's special friend and prot g e had finished the evening triumphantly becoming engaged to the most eligible man present, Sir William Manvers. Emma felt a thrill at the recollection. The event had justified all her admiration for Sophia Lennox, and Mr. Knightley, who had been so sceptical, had been obliged to admit that sometimes people did marry those whom one had destined for them. There was no Sir William Manvers this year, it was true; but Miss Bennet was still young, and there was plenty of time for the right man to appear. In fact, it was really only her due that she should be properly taken out in London, in order that she might have every chance, and this her aunt, Mrs. Gardiner, was quite evidently not able to give her. What wonder that the upshot of these reflections was a courteous note to Mrs. Gardiner, begging for the pleasure of a visit from Miss Bennet as soon as her stay in Gracechurch Street should be concluded. Kitty was in transports of happiness when all was arranged and she found herself actually Mrs. George Knightley's guest, with a ball in prospect, and each day one round of visits and shopping and other delights, with intervals only long enough to admit of changing one elegant gown for another, for her mother and sisters had taken care she should be provided with an ample wardrobe. She soon ceased to regret not having been allowed to accompany Lydia to the West Indies, and before many days were over had discovered a reason to rejoice that she had not gone. Among Mrs. Knightley's frequent visitors at this time was a young naval lieutenant named William Price, whom she had met a short time previously at the house of the same Mr. Yates who had paid a visit to Bath in the preceding spring. Mr. Yates lived in Cavendish Square, and as his wife was a first cousin of William Price's, they had begged the young man to make their house his home whenever he happened to be in London. Young Price had lately been attached to a ship of the line, the _Andromeda_, which he had been obliged to put into Portsmouth for repairs, and he had been employing some of the period of his enforced leisure in taking up a course of signalling and gunnery, as he was extremely anxious to gain promotion as speedily as possible; but he had found that it was necessary to use other means than those of mere hard work, and at the present time he was living in London, keeping in touch with the Admiralty and endeavouring to recommend himself to every high official and person of influence with whom he could contrive to become acquainted. In the intervals he paid hasty visits to his sisters, who were settled in Northamptonshire, and to his mother at Portsmouth; and being a young man of excellent address, great charm of manner and marked abilities, he had gained a deserved popularity, and could not help enjoying the gaiety of London life, available to him through the hospitality of numerous friends. Mrs. Knightley was extremely pleased with him, and with his next brother, David, who was a clerk in the India Office, and both young men found it a very agreeable house to come to, especially when to the welcome of their hostess was added that of a pretty girl who, warm-hearted and impulsive, did not attempt to conceal her pleasure in their company. David Price was two or three years her junior, and in him Kitty Bennet found only a merry and boyish companion; but the manliness of the young sailor aroused different feelings, and it was not long before she realized that the visits of William Price were becoming the most important thing in her life. She dreamt of him before he came, she had no eyes for anyone else when he was present, and she treasured his words when he had gone; and although she could not honestly read into those words more than a passing friendliness, yet she allowed herself to cherish hopes that each _next_ time there might be something warmer. Poor Kitty had secretly longed to be married ever since she was sixteen; and now at last it seemed as if Destiny itself was working for her, in placing her with so kind a hostess, who was always giving invitations and affording opportunities, and in sending her such a splendid hero of romance to fall in love with, for a hero he was, of a campaign at sea, when he had distinguished himself as much by bravery as he had on shore by industry; a hero with good looks, an assured position, and prize-money saved, and at the present moment with nothing particular to do but fall in love with Miss Kitty Bennet! It was impossible not to feel, under the circumstances, that the course of events was plainly marked out. Mrs. Knightley certainly thought so too, and although she refrained from definite statements, her sympathetic attitude encouraged Kitty to talk herself into hope and self-confidence. The importance of the ball itself in the great scheme of things was not overlooked, and Emma even dreamt now of a brilliant d nouement like last year's. She had invited a large number of people, and was anxious to have as many dancing couples as possible, so Mrs. Hurst's request for permission to bring her brother and Miss Darcy was warmly acceded to, and it was only a matter of regret that their friend Colonel Fitzwilliam could not be induced to go to any balls this season. Kitty was delighted at the prospect of meeting Georgiana again, and when the call spoken of by Mrs. Hurst was being paid, on the day following Georgiana's arrival, she availed herself of a pause in the conversation, and a nod and a smile from Mrs. Knightley, to ask her friend to come to another room for a few moments, on the plea of showing her some new possessions. Georgiana duly admired the bonnets and pelisses, and the gold chain which was Mrs. Knightley's present, and the rose-coloured ball dress which was to make its first appearance on the much-talked-of occasion. Kitty's head was evidently full of this event; she dwelt on it constantly, and from her quick nervous manner Georgiana guessed at some kind of special preoccupation with the subject. "And so you are very happy here, Kitty? Perhaps I need not ask that," she said, as Kitty turned to unfold another new muslin gown. "Oh, very, very happy, perfectly happy," exclaimed Kitty with eagerness. "Mrs. Knightley is so kind, and such nice people come here, you have no idea, Georgiana. Now, do look; is not that beautiful? A real India muslin, and the colour just suits me. You ought to like it, for I bought it with some money Elizabeth gave me." "Yes, dear, I do like it, of course," returned Georgiana; "but tell me some more about yourself. How long were you with the Gardiners?" "I forget just how long, but I came here on the first of June. Oh, I do not know how ever I shall be able to leave! Georgiana, I must tell you! I have been longing to do so, and yet I do not know how I can, after all, for it has not really happened yet. "Of course you have guessed," she went on, in answer to Georgiana's affectionately inquiring glance; "it can only be one thing: but pray do not mention it to anyone, for no one has any idea of it except Mrs. Knightley. It is so wonderful! Georgiana, do you believe in love at first sight?" "I have never thought about it," answered Georgiana honestly, "but I should think it might be possible." "Indeed, indeed, it is possible! It does happen. When you see him, you will know how easily. You will see him on Tuesday night; I do wonder what you will think of him. You must be sure to tell me quite truthfully." "Dear Kitty, you cannot think how glad I am. You mean you are engaged, or just about to be?" "Oh, no, no, no!" exclaimed Kitty, "you do not understand. I think--I hope--but I do not even know if he cares. Sometimes I feel sure he does, and then, again, he seems to be perfectly indifferent, and it is so terrible then, more terrible than you can imagine. But you will see--you will judge for yourself; I shall depend so much upon you for comfort and counsel, especially if Bingley asks him to come down and stay at Desborough, as I mean to persuade him to do." Georgiana was not much enlightened, and her shyness and natural reserve made her hesitate to ask questions on such a subject, which, had she been Kitty, she could not have mentioned to any living creature. But Kitty was evidently longing for sympathy, and poured out her hopes and fears and her reasons for both, mingling with them a description of William Price, painted in the most vivid colours and emphasizing his courage and distinction as an officer, his amiability as a man, his perfection as a ball-room partner, and the high opinion Mr. Knightley and all sensible men had formed of him. Georgiana listened, and was interested almost against her will; she had known Kitty to take fancies several times before for persons who had not returned her regard or thought of doing so; but in this case, from what she could gather, the young man seemed really to deserve Kitty's enthusiasm; they had met under Mrs. Knightley's auspices, he had been very often at the house, and certainly, everything considered, it was much more likely that he should fall in love with Kitty than not. Nevertheless, she hardly knew how to answer her; to encourage her in hopes which might prove false would be the cruellest kindness, so, while, murmuring her wishes for her friend's happiness, she agreed that she must wait for the evening of the ball before she could really tell how far Kitty's dreams were likely to be realized. They talked so long that eventually she had to propose a return to the drawing-room, fearing to be guilty of discourtesy towards Mrs. Knightley; but she was glad that only a moment was left for Kitty's hurried inquiry about her own affairs, as they hastened down the staircase, and that she could therefore dismiss the subject with a light word. Kitty was scarcely satisfied, but finding that Georgiana could not be induced to speak of Colonel Fitzwilliam, returned to her own all-absorbing topic with the remark, "I do wish you could meet someone just like my dear Mr. Price!" Chapter IX The next few days passed rapidly for both girls, and were so full of engagements that they were not able to arrange another meeting, and Georgiana deeply regretted the fact that, except for a glimpse of her at the ball, she should not see Kitty again before Bingley's departure from town. She could only hope that all would go well, and looked forward to a fuller intercourse in Derbyshire in a few weeks' time. Meanwhile, there were many friends to see, and Georgiana would have enjoyed herself thoroughly had she not dreaded the first meeting with Colonel Fitzwilliam, which she felt hanging over her, since Bingley had called on the Colonel and reported him to be in town, but which she did not know when to expect. A slight change in her plans, necessitating a short absence from Mr. Hurst's house, led her to imagine that it would be temporarily averted; but on the very day of the ball, when she and her hostesses had remained at home, and a larger number of visitors than usual happened to be in the room, she experienced a painful shock on hearing his name announced and on seeing him walk into the room. Next moment she was angry with herself for losing her composure, even momentarily, and bracing herself for a possible encounter, she endeavoured to continue to bear her part in a conversation with two or three of Mrs. Hurst's friends, who, she realized gratefully, were strangers to her until that day. It was some minutes afterwards that she was aware of Colonel Fitzwilliam approaching her, guided by Miss Bingley, whose kindly intentions of making the occasion as ordinary as possible only served to intensify its discomfort. Georgiana, however, thought the fault all hers, as, not reassured at all by Caroline's cheerful "Colonel Fitzwilliam was so glad to hear you were staying with us, Georgiana," she found herself only just able to give him her hand with an almost inaudible greeting, while her face, suffused with deepest blushes, must, she felt, have made her noticeable to all around. It was Colonel Fitzwilliam's part to set her at her ease, which he did, to some extent with a few kindly and naturally-expressed sentences, inquiring about her journey, and the health of those she had left behind. Georgiana presently ventured to let her eyes rest on him, and was startled to see how much older he looked even in the short time since she'd seen him, and how ill and worn. A terror seized her heart that she might be guilty of these altered looks, but it passed in an instant; there was not any doubt that their parting had been for the good of both; but poor Cousin Robert, it was plain to see that he had been suffering, from whatever cause, and her sympathy went out to him unconsciously, even while she could hardly talk to him from embarrassment of knowing that Caroline Bingley was standing by, apparently occupied with other people, but drawing conclusions from every word she could hear. "I had intended coming to see you, anyhow, Georgiana," said Fitzwilliam, "but I am very busy, you know--I do not go out much; and you live in a perpetual whirl of gaiety, I expect." He smiled as he spoke, and Georgiana tried to answer in the same spirit, telling him that they had a good many plans, and people were very kind, but she was not really in a whirl, in fact, the very next morning she was leaving for Grosvenor Street for a few days, to spend them quietly with her old friend Mrs. Annesley, who lived in Hans Place, quite away from the bustle of London. "Mrs. Annesley?" repeated Fitzwilliam; "of course I remember her; she will enjoy having you, but how have Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley become reconciled to parting with you even for a week?" Georgiana explained hurriedly that it had been quite a sudden engagement; her old friend had been to see her, and had begged for a short visit from her, if possible, for Mrs. Annesley was on the point of going to India, to live with a married son who had lost his wife, and she might not have the opportunity of seeing her former pupil again for many years. Georgiana had been happy in the opportunity of going to her friend at such a time; her present hostesses had acquiesced, and a week was to be spared to Mrs. Annesley. "But it will be made up in Grosvenor Street next month, I assume," said Colonel Fitzwilliam. "I hardly know--I believe Elizabeth and my brother want me at home again soon--but of course I like being here too," said Georgiana, stumbling over her words, and feeling that she was disgracing herself. If only Caroline would not stand there and seem to be observing them so closely! She did not believe it would be so distressing to talk to Cousin Robert if only they could be together somewhere among strangers. This thought impelled her to ask him, quite at random, for she had every reason to know what his reply would be, whether he was going to Mrs. Knightley's ball. "I am afraid not, Georgiana. I think I am getting too old for balls; but I wish you a great deal of pleasure there." "Oh, Cousin Robert, you are not too old, but you--" she checked herself in this impetuous speech, and ended rather confusedly, "but you look tired"; which was not what she would have wished to say. Her cousin glanced kindly at her, but turned her remark off with a laugh; and as he seemed about to move away, Georgiana, in desperation, and astonished at herself, said timidly: "I hope we may meet again, even though you do not go to balls." "I hope so, too, Georgiana. But of course we shall. I must come some morning and take you all to Kensington Gardens." Georgiana felt that this would not be a great improvement on the present situation, but she could not say any more, and supposed their conversation was at an end, when Fitzwilliam, who had made a step from her, seemed struck with a sudden idea, and turned to her again, saying: "May I come and call on you at Mrs. Annesley's? She will perhaps remember me and--I may not be in town later on." Georgiana flushed with surprise and pleasure, and her eager assent left Fitzwilliam in no doubt as to his reception. He stayed only to assure himself of the number of Mrs. Annesley's house, then bowed and walked rapidly away, as Miss Bingley approached with the evident intention of breaking up their conclave. Georgiana had to submit to a certain amount of comment from the sisters, who, while condoling with her for having had to pass through a uncomfortable few minutes, appeared surprised that she should have been able to talk to Colonel Fitzwilliam, but she herself felt nothing but happiness in having met her cousin again, and found it possible to think of being on those terms with him that Elizabeth had predicted. She spent a part of the afternoon in writing a long letter to her sister, telling her what had happened; but she did not like to send an account of her cousin that might alarm them at home, so she contented herself with saying that he was not looking at all well, and that she wished Elizabeth would persuade him to go down to Pemberley, as he must be working too hard in London. She concluded her writing with the words, "I will leave this open till to-morrow, dear Elizabeth, that I may tell you about the ball, and how Kitty looked." Kitty, indeed, was the chief subject of her thoughts when they dwelt upon the prospect of the evening, and when the time for dressing arrived Kitty's rose-coloured silk occupied her mind far more than her own white satin and pearls. When Mr. and Mrs. Hurst's party entered the ante-room where Mrs. Knightley was receiving her guests, the two girls managed to exchange a few words, and Georgiana gathered that the hero of the evening had not yet appeared, but Kitty was separated from her by the crowd of arrivals, and so it eventually came about that it was their hostess who performed the introduction of Mr. William Price to Miss Darcy. Georgiana's first thought, when she looked at the noble brow and clear blue eye of the young man, was that Kitty's attachment was easily understood, and each moment that she spent in his company strengthened that assurance. She was desirous of liking him, eager to find everything to praise in the admired--and perhaps the admirer--of her friend, and the opportunity came at once in the infectious gaiety and good spirits of the young man and the unaffected warmth of his manner. He asked her for the honour of her hand in several dances; but the first two, she noticed, he danced with Kitty, and from the sparkle in Kitty's eye, and her quick movement as he approached to claim them, Georgiana conjectured that the engagement had been made previously. When Georgiana's turn came, among the excellencies that she discovered in her partner was that of being a perfect dancer; and, moreover, one who moved through the set as if he enjoyed every step. Somewhat shyly she commented on this. "Yes, indeed, Miss Darcy, I am fond of dancing; I began very early, when I was such a small person that you probably wouldn't have seen me in a room, much less have danced with me. We all used to jump about as children, I believe; and on board ship one somehow managed to learn, so as to be ready for the balls." "Were there balls so often?" asked Georgiana. "Yes; wherever we were stationed somebody always seized the opportunity to give a ball, either a private person, or the Governor, or the regiment, or someone. There seems to be a connection established in people's minds between naval men and dancing; anyhow, as soon as there were a few days' quiet, someone would produce musicians and a waxed floor, and we were expected to go and perform. So I decided that I had better like it." "You are a very fortunate person to be able to be able to like

great

How many times the word 'great' appears in the text?

Brandon's death, that there had not been time for much intercourse between them and the Darcys, though Elizabeth had been greatly pleased with what she had seen of Mrs. Ferrars. Since the former's return from Bath, and after her experiences there of the other branch of the family, she could appreciate fully the immense superiority of the Edward Ferrars over their relations. Ferrars himself was too quiet, diffident, and reserved a man to recommend himself easily, but in his wife all recognized a woman of a rare and noble nature, distinguished alike by the sweetness of her character and by its strength. The Darcys rejoiced in the increased opportunities of meeting afforded by the presence of their guest, and various walks, drives and out-of-doors excursions were organized, for which the glorious weather of early June afforded every opportunity. The first diminution their party suffered was in the departure of Georgiana for London, which occurred on the seventeenth of the month. The visit had long been talked of, and Georgiana really looked forward with no little pleasure to seeing her old friends, for Caroline Bingley and Louisa took pains not to show to her, of whom they were exceedingly fond, the cold-hearted and worldly aspect of their dispositions; but when she found herself actually in the travelling carriage with Bingley, with her maid seated opposite, she felt, as she did every year, the sensation of leaving all that she cared for behind her, and of entering scenes alarming because unfamiliar. Bingley good-naturedly endeavoured to divert her in every way, talked of the pleasures awaiting her, and of the friends she would see in London, Kitty Bennet and Mrs. Annesley, besides her hostesses, and casually mentioned the possibility of her coming across Colonel Fitzwilliam. Georgiana had been prepared for this by Elizabeth, and had first shrunk from the idea; but afterwards became reconciled to the view put before her, that the first meeting, which must necessarily be painful, must come some time, and it would be best to get it over in a crowd, with a few ordinary words of greeting, which would put them on a comfortable footing for the future. She, therefore, made an effort to reply cheerfully to all Bingley's suggestions, and had not found the journey tedious when they drew up in Grosvenor Street in time for dinner on the third day. Caroline and Louisa could not make enough of her, and the evening was spent in talking over the plans they had formed for her amusement, and in detailing the engagements they had entered into. It soon appeared that the ball which Bingley had mentioned was on their list; for they were also acquainted with Mrs. George Knightley, whose entertainment it was, and had secured invitations from her for their brother and their young friend. Bingley inquired of the date of the ball, explaining how it affected his movements; and his sisters endeavoured to conceal their surprise on hearing that Miss Kitty Bennet was staying with the Knightleys. "I thought, when you spoke of coming to fetch her, Charles, that she was with her uncle and aunt in Gracechurch Street," said Miss Bingley. "To tell the truth, I was not very clear about it myself," returned Bingley. "Jane told me that she was going to stay over this ball, but whether she was with the Gardiners or the Knightleys I did not make out until just before we came away. It does not make a vast deal of difference, to my thinking." "There is certainly some difference; the Knightleys live in Portland Square, for one thing," replied Miss Bingley. "Do they? I am glad of that, for it means I shall not have to drive so far round to pick Kitty up," was Bingley's cheerful answer, and he moved away to speak to Mr. Hurst, leaving his sisters to their speculations as to how Miss Bennet could have come to know the George Knightleys. Georgiana did not know, but conjectured it was through Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner; and the ladies, though they refrained from showing their perplexity, were even more puzzled to account for the uncle who lived in Cheapside being acquainted with such people of fashion. "Have you seen anything of Fitzwilliam, Louisa?" inquired Bingley of his eldest sister, when he came to have his coffee-cup refilled. "Really, Charles, what a foolish question to ask," replied Mrs. Hurst, with affected carelessness. "Of course we see him frequently when he is in town." "Very good; I hope he will come round while I am here, and, if not, I shall get you to give me his direction, for I must certainly look him up before I go back." Mrs. Hurst made a vague answer, for both she and her sister were sincerely anxious to spare Georgiana any embarrassment, and they would not of their own accord have referred to Fitzwilliam until they knew how she was able to bear the mention of his name in public. Caroline immediately began speaking of another subject, but Georgiana, divining their intentions, felt that she must not indulge in a foolish sensibility which might give her friends a false impression of the state of things; so, summoning all her courage, she said, with a deep blush but a tolerably firm voice: "Yes, I hope my cousin may be in town this month. Elizabeth and my brother gave me many messages for him, if I should see him." She was conscious that the ladies were looking at her in surprise, but that Bingley noticed nothing but the amount of milk Louisa was putting in his coffee was a great help, and Caroline, the next moment, said quietly: "Oh, yes, no doubt he will call," which made it unnecessary for Georgiana to say any more. Bingley, having secured his cup, next produced a notebook and proceeded to write down the address of Fitzwilliam's lodgings and the name of his club, and, as an afterthought, the various engagements to which he had been pledged by his sisters. Georgiana found that Mrs. Hurst and Caroline were anxious she should go with them on the following day to call in Portman Square and meet Mrs. George Knightley. Mrs. Knightley, formerly Emma Woodhouse, had, since her marriage, been able to enjoy a larger measure of the social power and influence in the use of which she had always delighted. Since Mr. Woodhouse's death she had persuaded her husband to go into Parliament, and except for short visits to Donwell, they now lived entirely in London--an arrangement which just suited Emma, who had long desired some stir and variety in her life, after having spent so many unbroken years in a country village. Mr. Knightley still took the greatest interest in the farming of his property, and as soon as he was trustee to his sister-in-law, Mrs. John Knightley, for the estate of Hartfield, which had passed to her on her father's death, he found as much to do out of London as in it; while Emma, though fond of Donwell, had grown weary of the neighbourhood, and took a keen pleasure in forming round her in London a large circle of acquaintances, whom she loved to entertain, and in whose characters and careers she took the deepest interest. Mrs. Knightley's ball had become an annual fixture in the month of June, and this year she had a special incentive for giving it and for making it as gay as possible. At her sister's house she had met Mrs. Gardiner, whose husband had long been a close friend in business of Mr. John Knightley. Mrs. Gardiner was chaperoning a niece, Miss Catherine Bennet, a slender, blooming young girl, and pretty without being very striking; but Mrs. Knightley was impressed with her pleasing manners, and the enthusiasm with which she received the prospect of a theatre party which was being discussed on that occasion. It was the work of a moment for Emma to decide that she must ask her sister to bring Miss Bennet to the ball; but during the remainder of the evening, while she considered and observed, an improvement on the first idea suggested itself; Miss Bennet must be invited to stay in Portman Square for the great occasion. What better arrangement could there be? Isabella would not want to stay late, but young girls liked to dance till the last moment, and she, Emma, would have the benefit of Miss Bennet's help in the preparations, and would be able to introduce her to her partners beforehand. Yes, Miss Bennet was certainly very pretty, prettier than she had appeared at first--such a slim, upright figure, such a profusion of hair, such a delicate fairness of complexion; she would be a great success! It would be as delightful as when last year, the girl who was at the ball as Mrs. Knightley's special friend and prot g e had finished the evening triumphantly becoming engaged to the most eligible man present, Sir William Manvers. Emma felt a thrill at the recollection. The event had justified all her admiration for Sophia Lennox, and Mr. Knightley, who had been so sceptical, had been obliged to admit that sometimes people did marry those whom one had destined for them. There was no Sir William Manvers this year, it was true; but Miss Bennet was still young, and there was plenty of time for the right man to appear. In fact, it was really only her due that she should be properly taken out in London, in order that she might have every chance, and this her aunt, Mrs. Gardiner, was quite evidently not able to give her. What wonder that the upshot of these reflections was a courteous note to Mrs. Gardiner, begging for the pleasure of a visit from Miss Bennet as soon as her stay in Gracechurch Street should be concluded. Kitty was in transports of happiness when all was arranged and she found herself actually Mrs. George Knightley's guest, with a ball in prospect, and each day one round of visits and shopping and other delights, with intervals only long enough to admit of changing one elegant gown for another, for her mother and sisters had taken care she should be provided with an ample wardrobe. She soon ceased to regret not having been allowed to accompany Lydia to the West Indies, and before many days were over had discovered a reason to rejoice that she had not gone. Among Mrs. Knightley's frequent visitors at this time was a young naval lieutenant named William Price, whom she had met a short time previously at the house of the same Mr. Yates who had paid a visit to Bath in the preceding spring. Mr. Yates lived in Cavendish Square, and as his wife was a first cousin of William Price's, they had begged the young man to make their house his home whenever he happened to be in London. Young Price had lately been attached to a ship of the line, the _Andromeda_, which he had been obliged to put into Portsmouth for repairs, and he had been employing some of the period of his enforced leisure in taking up a course of signalling and gunnery, as he was extremely anxious to gain promotion as speedily as possible; but he had found that it was necessary to use other means than those of mere hard work, and at the present time he was living in London, keeping in touch with the Admiralty and endeavouring to recommend himself to every high official and person of influence with whom he could contrive to become acquainted. In the intervals he paid hasty visits to his sisters, who were settled in Northamptonshire, and to his mother at Portsmouth; and being a young man of excellent address, great charm of manner and marked abilities, he had gained a deserved popularity, and could not help enjoying the gaiety of London life, available to him through the hospitality of numerous friends. Mrs. Knightley was extremely pleased with him, and with his next brother, David, who was a clerk in the India Office, and both young men found it a very agreeable house to come to, especially when to the welcome of their hostess was added that of a pretty girl who, warm-hearted and impulsive, did not attempt to conceal her pleasure in their company. David Price was two or three years her junior, and in him Kitty Bennet found only a merry and boyish companion; but the manliness of the young sailor aroused different feelings, and it was not long before she realized that the visits of William Price were becoming the most important thing in her life. She dreamt of him before he came, she had no eyes for anyone else when he was present, and she treasured his words when he had gone; and although she could not honestly read into those words more than a passing friendliness, yet she allowed herself to cherish hopes that each _next_ time there might be something warmer. Poor Kitty had secretly longed to be married ever since she was sixteen; and now at last it seemed as if Destiny itself was working for her, in placing her with so kind a hostess, who was always giving invitations and affording opportunities, and in sending her such a splendid hero of romance to fall in love with, for a hero he was, of a campaign at sea, when he had distinguished himself as much by bravery as he had on shore by industry; a hero with good looks, an assured position, and prize-money saved, and at the present moment with nothing particular to do but fall in love with Miss Kitty Bennet! It was impossible not to feel, under the circumstances, that the course of events was plainly marked out. Mrs. Knightley certainly thought so too, and although she refrained from definite statements, her sympathetic attitude encouraged Kitty to talk herself into hope and self-confidence. The importance of the ball itself in the great scheme of things was not overlooked, and Emma even dreamt now of a brilliant d nouement like last year's. She had invited a large number of people, and was anxious to have as many dancing couples as possible, so Mrs. Hurst's request for permission to bring her brother and Miss Darcy was warmly acceded to, and it was only a matter of regret that their friend Colonel Fitzwilliam could not be induced to go to any balls this season. Kitty was delighted at the prospect of meeting Georgiana again, and when the call spoken of by Mrs. Hurst was being paid, on the day following Georgiana's arrival, she availed herself of a pause in the conversation, and a nod and a smile from Mrs. Knightley, to ask her friend to come to another room for a few moments, on the plea of showing her some new possessions. Georgiana duly admired the bonnets and pelisses, and the gold chain which was Mrs. Knightley's present, and the rose-coloured ball dress which was to make its first appearance on the much-talked-of occasion. Kitty's head was evidently full of this event; she dwelt on it constantly, and from her quick nervous manner Georgiana guessed at some kind of special preoccupation with the subject. "And so you are very happy here, Kitty? Perhaps I need not ask that," she said, as Kitty turned to unfold another new muslin gown. "Oh, very, very happy, perfectly happy," exclaimed Kitty with eagerness. "Mrs. Knightley is so kind, and such nice people come here, you have no idea, Georgiana. Now, do look; is not that beautiful? A real India muslin, and the colour just suits me. You ought to like it, for I bought it with some money Elizabeth gave me." "Yes, dear, I do like it, of course," returned Georgiana; "but tell me some more about yourself. How long were you with the Gardiners?" "I forget just how long, but I came here on the first of June. Oh, I do not know how ever I shall be able to leave! Georgiana, I must tell you! I have been longing to do so, and yet I do not know how I can, after all, for it has not really happened yet. "Of course you have guessed," she went on, in answer to Georgiana's affectionately inquiring glance; "it can only be one thing: but pray do not mention it to anyone, for no one has any idea of it except Mrs. Knightley. It is so wonderful! Georgiana, do you believe in love at first sight?" "I have never thought about it," answered Georgiana honestly, "but I should think it might be possible." "Indeed, indeed, it is possible! It does happen. When you see him, you will know how easily. You will see him on Tuesday night; I do wonder what you will think of him. You must be sure to tell me quite truthfully." "Dear Kitty, you cannot think how glad I am. You mean you are engaged, or just about to be?" "Oh, no, no, no!" exclaimed Kitty, "you do not understand. I think--I hope--but I do not even know if he cares. Sometimes I feel sure he does, and then, again, he seems to be perfectly indifferent, and it is so terrible then, more terrible than you can imagine. But you will see--you will judge for yourself; I shall depend so much upon you for comfort and counsel, especially if Bingley asks him to come down and stay at Desborough, as I mean to persuade him to do." Georgiana was not much enlightened, and her shyness and natural reserve made her hesitate to ask questions on such a subject, which, had she been Kitty, she could not have mentioned to any living creature. But Kitty was evidently longing for sympathy, and poured out her hopes and fears and her reasons for both, mingling with them a description of William Price, painted in the most vivid colours and emphasizing his courage and distinction as an officer, his amiability as a man, his perfection as a ball-room partner, and the high opinion Mr. Knightley and all sensible men had formed of him. Georgiana listened, and was interested almost against her will; she had known Kitty to take fancies several times before for persons who had not returned her regard or thought of doing so; but in this case, from what she could gather, the young man seemed really to deserve Kitty's enthusiasm; they had met under Mrs. Knightley's auspices, he had been very often at the house, and certainly, everything considered, it was much more likely that he should fall in love with Kitty than not. Nevertheless, she hardly knew how to answer her; to encourage her in hopes which might prove false would be the cruellest kindness, so, while, murmuring her wishes for her friend's happiness, she agreed that she must wait for the evening of the ball before she could really tell how far Kitty's dreams were likely to be realized. They talked so long that eventually she had to propose a return to the drawing-room, fearing to be guilty of discourtesy towards Mrs. Knightley; but she was glad that only a moment was left for Kitty's hurried inquiry about her own affairs, as they hastened down the staircase, and that she could therefore dismiss the subject with a light word. Kitty was scarcely satisfied, but finding that Georgiana could not be induced to speak of Colonel Fitzwilliam, returned to her own all-absorbing topic with the remark, "I do wish you could meet someone just like my dear Mr. Price!" Chapter IX The next few days passed rapidly for both girls, and were so full of engagements that they were not able to arrange another meeting, and Georgiana deeply regretted the fact that, except for a glimpse of her at the ball, she should not see Kitty again before Bingley's departure from town. She could only hope that all would go well, and looked forward to a fuller intercourse in Derbyshire in a few weeks' time. Meanwhile, there were many friends to see, and Georgiana would have enjoyed herself thoroughly had she not dreaded the first meeting with Colonel Fitzwilliam, which she felt hanging over her, since Bingley had called on the Colonel and reported him to be in town, but which she did not know when to expect. A slight change in her plans, necessitating a short absence from Mr. Hurst's house, led her to imagine that it would be temporarily averted; but on the very day of the ball, when she and her hostesses had remained at home, and a larger number of visitors than usual happened to be in the room, she experienced a painful shock on hearing his name announced and on seeing him walk into the room. Next moment she was angry with herself for losing her composure, even momentarily, and bracing herself for a possible encounter, she endeavoured to continue to bear her part in a conversation with two or three of Mrs. Hurst's friends, who, she realized gratefully, were strangers to her until that day. It was some minutes afterwards that she was aware of Colonel Fitzwilliam approaching her, guided by Miss Bingley, whose kindly intentions of making the occasion as ordinary as possible only served to intensify its discomfort. Georgiana, however, thought the fault all hers, as, not reassured at all by Caroline's cheerful "Colonel Fitzwilliam was so glad to hear you were staying with us, Georgiana," she found herself only just able to give him her hand with an almost inaudible greeting, while her face, suffused with deepest blushes, must, she felt, have made her noticeable to all around. It was Colonel Fitzwilliam's part to set her at her ease, which he did, to some extent with a few kindly and naturally-expressed sentences, inquiring about her journey, and the health of those she had left behind. Georgiana presently ventured to let her eyes rest on him, and was startled to see how much older he looked even in the short time since she'd seen him, and how ill and worn. A terror seized her heart that she might be guilty of these altered looks, but it passed in an instant; there was not any doubt that their parting had been for the good of both; but poor Cousin Robert, it was plain to see that he had been suffering, from whatever cause, and her sympathy went out to him unconsciously, even while she could hardly talk to him from embarrassment of knowing that Caroline Bingley was standing by, apparently occupied with other people, but drawing conclusions from every word she could hear. "I had intended coming to see you, anyhow, Georgiana," said Fitzwilliam, "but I am very busy, you know--I do not go out much; and you live in a perpetual whirl of gaiety, I expect." He smiled as he spoke, and Georgiana tried to answer in the same spirit, telling him that they had a good many plans, and people were very kind, but she was not really in a whirl, in fact, the very next morning she was leaving for Grosvenor Street for a few days, to spend them quietly with her old friend Mrs. Annesley, who lived in Hans Place, quite away from the bustle of London. "Mrs. Annesley?" repeated Fitzwilliam; "of course I remember her; she will enjoy having you, but how have Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley become reconciled to parting with you even for a week?" Georgiana explained hurriedly that it had been quite a sudden engagement; her old friend had been to see her, and had begged for a short visit from her, if possible, for Mrs. Annesley was on the point of going to India, to live with a married son who had lost his wife, and she might not have the opportunity of seeing her former pupil again for many years. Georgiana had been happy in the opportunity of going to her friend at such a time; her present hostesses had acquiesced, and a week was to be spared to Mrs. Annesley. "But it will be made up in Grosvenor Street next month, I assume," said Colonel Fitzwilliam. "I hardly know--I believe Elizabeth and my brother want me at home again soon--but of course I like being here too," said Georgiana, stumbling over her words, and feeling that she was disgracing herself. If only Caroline would not stand there and seem to be observing them so closely! She did not believe it would be so distressing to talk to Cousin Robert if only they could be together somewhere among strangers. This thought impelled her to ask him, quite at random, for she had every reason to know what his reply would be, whether he was going to Mrs. Knightley's ball. "I am afraid not, Georgiana. I think I am getting too old for balls; but I wish you a great deal of pleasure there." "Oh, Cousin Robert, you are not too old, but you--" she checked herself in this impetuous speech, and ended rather confusedly, "but you look tired"; which was not what she would have wished to say. Her cousin glanced kindly at her, but turned her remark off with a laugh; and as he seemed about to move away, Georgiana, in desperation, and astonished at herself, said timidly: "I hope we may meet again, even though you do not go to balls." "I hope so, too, Georgiana. But of course we shall. I must come some morning and take you all to Kensington Gardens." Georgiana felt that this would not be a great improvement on the present situation, but she could not say any more, and supposed their conversation was at an end, when Fitzwilliam, who had made a step from her, seemed struck with a sudden idea, and turned to her again, saying: "May I come and call on you at Mrs. Annesley's? She will perhaps remember me and--I may not be in town later on." Georgiana flushed with surprise and pleasure, and her eager assent left Fitzwilliam in no doubt as to his reception. He stayed only to assure himself of the number of Mrs. Annesley's house, then bowed and walked rapidly away, as Miss Bingley approached with the evident intention of breaking up their conclave. Georgiana had to submit to a certain amount of comment from the sisters, who, while condoling with her for having had to pass through a uncomfortable few minutes, appeared surprised that she should have been able to talk to Colonel Fitzwilliam, but she herself felt nothing but happiness in having met her cousin again, and found it possible to think of being on those terms with him that Elizabeth had predicted. She spent a part of the afternoon in writing a long letter to her sister, telling her what had happened; but she did not like to send an account of her cousin that might alarm them at home, so she contented herself with saying that he was not looking at all well, and that she wished Elizabeth would persuade him to go down to Pemberley, as he must be working too hard in London. She concluded her writing with the words, "I will leave this open till to-morrow, dear Elizabeth, that I may tell you about the ball, and how Kitty looked." Kitty, indeed, was the chief subject of her thoughts when they dwelt upon the prospect of the evening, and when the time for dressing arrived Kitty's rose-coloured silk occupied her mind far more than her own white satin and pearls. When Mr. and Mrs. Hurst's party entered the ante-room where Mrs. Knightley was receiving her guests, the two girls managed to exchange a few words, and Georgiana gathered that the hero of the evening had not yet appeared, but Kitty was separated from her by the crowd of arrivals, and so it eventually came about that it was their hostess who performed the introduction of Mr. William Price to Miss Darcy. Georgiana's first thought, when she looked at the noble brow and clear blue eye of the young man, was that Kitty's attachment was easily understood, and each moment that she spent in his company strengthened that assurance. She was desirous of liking him, eager to find everything to praise in the admired--and perhaps the admirer--of her friend, and the opportunity came at once in the infectious gaiety and good spirits of the young man and the unaffected warmth of his manner. He asked her for the honour of her hand in several dances; but the first two, she noticed, he danced with Kitty, and from the sparkle in Kitty's eye, and her quick movement as he approached to claim them, Georgiana conjectured that the engagement had been made previously. When Georgiana's turn came, among the excellencies that she discovered in her partner was that of being a perfect dancer; and, moreover, one who moved through the set as if he enjoyed every step. Somewhat shyly she commented on this. "Yes, indeed, Miss Darcy, I am fond of dancing; I began very early, when I was such a small person that you probably wouldn't have seen me in a room, much less have danced with me. We all used to jump about as children, I believe; and on board ship one somehow managed to learn, so as to be ready for the balls." "Were there balls so often?" asked Georgiana. "Yes; wherever we were stationed somebody always seized the opportunity to give a ball, either a private person, or the Governor, or the regiment, or someone. There seems to be a connection established in people's minds between naval men and dancing; anyhow, as soon as there were a few days' quiet, someone would produce musicians and a waxed floor, and we were expected to go and perform. So I decided that I had better like it." "You are a very fortunate person to be able to be able to like

new

How many times the word 'new' appears in the text?

Brandon's death, that there had not been time for much intercourse between them and the Darcys, though Elizabeth had been greatly pleased with what she had seen of Mrs. Ferrars. Since the former's return from Bath, and after her experiences there of the other branch of the family, she could appreciate fully the immense superiority of the Edward Ferrars over their relations. Ferrars himself was too quiet, diffident, and reserved a man to recommend himself easily, but in his wife all recognized a woman of a rare and noble nature, distinguished alike by the sweetness of her character and by its strength. The Darcys rejoiced in the increased opportunities of meeting afforded by the presence of their guest, and various walks, drives and out-of-doors excursions were organized, for which the glorious weather of early June afforded every opportunity. The first diminution their party suffered was in the departure of Georgiana for London, which occurred on the seventeenth of the month. The visit had long been talked of, and Georgiana really looked forward with no little pleasure to seeing her old friends, for Caroline Bingley and Louisa took pains not to show to her, of whom they were exceedingly fond, the cold-hearted and worldly aspect of their dispositions; but when she found herself actually in the travelling carriage with Bingley, with her maid seated opposite, she felt, as she did every year, the sensation of leaving all that she cared for behind her, and of entering scenes alarming because unfamiliar. Bingley good-naturedly endeavoured to divert her in every way, talked of the pleasures awaiting her, and of the friends she would see in London, Kitty Bennet and Mrs. Annesley, besides her hostesses, and casually mentioned the possibility of her coming across Colonel Fitzwilliam. Georgiana had been prepared for this by Elizabeth, and had first shrunk from the idea; but afterwards became reconciled to the view put before her, that the first meeting, which must necessarily be painful, must come some time, and it would be best to get it over in a crowd, with a few ordinary words of greeting, which would put them on a comfortable footing for the future. She, therefore, made an effort to reply cheerfully to all Bingley's suggestions, and had not found the journey tedious when they drew up in Grosvenor Street in time for dinner on the third day. Caroline and Louisa could not make enough of her, and the evening was spent in talking over the plans they had formed for her amusement, and in detailing the engagements they had entered into. It soon appeared that the ball which Bingley had mentioned was on their list; for they were also acquainted with Mrs. George Knightley, whose entertainment it was, and had secured invitations from her for their brother and their young friend. Bingley inquired of the date of the ball, explaining how it affected his movements; and his sisters endeavoured to conceal their surprise on hearing that Miss Kitty Bennet was staying with the Knightleys. "I thought, when you spoke of coming to fetch her, Charles, that she was with her uncle and aunt in Gracechurch Street," said Miss Bingley. "To tell the truth, I was not very clear about it myself," returned Bingley. "Jane told me that she was going to stay over this ball, but whether she was with the Gardiners or the Knightleys I did not make out until just before we came away. It does not make a vast deal of difference, to my thinking." "There is certainly some difference; the Knightleys live in Portland Square, for one thing," replied Miss Bingley. "Do they? I am glad of that, for it means I shall not have to drive so far round to pick Kitty up," was Bingley's cheerful answer, and he moved away to speak to Mr. Hurst, leaving his sisters to their speculations as to how Miss Bennet could have come to know the George Knightleys. Georgiana did not know, but conjectured it was through Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner; and the ladies, though they refrained from showing their perplexity, were even more puzzled to account for the uncle who lived in Cheapside being acquainted with such people of fashion. "Have you seen anything of Fitzwilliam, Louisa?" inquired Bingley of his eldest sister, when he came to have his coffee-cup refilled. "Really, Charles, what a foolish question to ask," replied Mrs. Hurst, with affected carelessness. "Of course we see him frequently when he is in town." "Very good; I hope he will come round while I am here, and, if not, I shall get you to give me his direction, for I must certainly look him up before I go back." Mrs. Hurst made a vague answer, for both she and her sister were sincerely anxious to spare Georgiana any embarrassment, and they would not of their own accord have referred to Fitzwilliam until they knew how she was able to bear the mention of his name in public. Caroline immediately began speaking of another subject, but Georgiana, divining their intentions, felt that she must not indulge in a foolish sensibility which might give her friends a false impression of the state of things; so, summoning all her courage, she said, with a deep blush but a tolerably firm voice: "Yes, I hope my cousin may be in town this month. Elizabeth and my brother gave me many messages for him, if I should see him." She was conscious that the ladies were looking at her in surprise, but that Bingley noticed nothing but the amount of milk Louisa was putting in his coffee was a great help, and Caroline, the next moment, said quietly: "Oh, yes, no doubt he will call," which made it unnecessary for Georgiana to say any more. Bingley, having secured his cup, next produced a notebook and proceeded to write down the address of Fitzwilliam's lodgings and the name of his club, and, as an afterthought, the various engagements to which he had been pledged by his sisters. Georgiana found that Mrs. Hurst and Caroline were anxious she should go with them on the following day to call in Portman Square and meet Mrs. George Knightley. Mrs. Knightley, formerly Emma Woodhouse, had, since her marriage, been able to enjoy a larger measure of the social power and influence in the use of which she had always delighted. Since Mr. Woodhouse's death she had persuaded her husband to go into Parliament, and except for short visits to Donwell, they now lived entirely in London--an arrangement which just suited Emma, who had long desired some stir and variety in her life, after having spent so many unbroken years in a country village. Mr. Knightley still took the greatest interest in the farming of his property, and as soon as he was trustee to his sister-in-law, Mrs. John Knightley, for the estate of Hartfield, which had passed to her on her father's death, he found as much to do out of London as in it; while Emma, though fond of Donwell, had grown weary of the neighbourhood, and took a keen pleasure in forming round her in London a large circle of acquaintances, whom she loved to entertain, and in whose characters and careers she took the deepest interest. Mrs. Knightley's ball had become an annual fixture in the month of June, and this year she had a special incentive for giving it and for making it as gay as possible. At her sister's house she had met Mrs. Gardiner, whose husband had long been a close friend in business of Mr. John Knightley. Mrs. Gardiner was chaperoning a niece, Miss Catherine Bennet, a slender, blooming young girl, and pretty without being very striking; but Mrs. Knightley was impressed with her pleasing manners, and the enthusiasm with which she received the prospect of a theatre party which was being discussed on that occasion. It was the work of a moment for Emma to decide that she must ask her sister to bring Miss Bennet to the ball; but during the remainder of the evening, while she considered and observed, an improvement on the first idea suggested itself; Miss Bennet must be invited to stay in Portman Square for the great occasion. What better arrangement could there be? Isabella would not want to stay late, but young girls liked to dance till the last moment, and she, Emma, would have the benefit of Miss Bennet's help in the preparations, and would be able to introduce her to her partners beforehand. Yes, Miss Bennet was certainly very pretty, prettier than she had appeared at first--such a slim, upright figure, such a profusion of hair, such a delicate fairness of complexion; she would be a great success! It would be as delightful as when last year, the girl who was at the ball as Mrs. Knightley's special friend and prot g e had finished the evening triumphantly becoming engaged to the most eligible man present, Sir William Manvers. Emma felt a thrill at the recollection. The event had justified all her admiration for Sophia Lennox, and Mr. Knightley, who had been so sceptical, had been obliged to admit that sometimes people did marry those whom one had destined for them. There was no Sir William Manvers this year, it was true; but Miss Bennet was still young, and there was plenty of time for the right man to appear. In fact, it was really only her due that she should be properly taken out in London, in order that she might have every chance, and this her aunt, Mrs. Gardiner, was quite evidently not able to give her. What wonder that the upshot of these reflections was a courteous note to Mrs. Gardiner, begging for the pleasure of a visit from Miss Bennet as soon as her stay in Gracechurch Street should be concluded. Kitty was in transports of happiness when all was arranged and she found herself actually Mrs. George Knightley's guest, with a ball in prospect, and each day one round of visits and shopping and other delights, with intervals only long enough to admit of changing one elegant gown for another, for her mother and sisters had taken care she should be provided with an ample wardrobe. She soon ceased to regret not having been allowed to accompany Lydia to the West Indies, and before many days were over had discovered a reason to rejoice that she had not gone. Among Mrs. Knightley's frequent visitors at this time was a young naval lieutenant named William Price, whom she had met a short time previously at the house of the same Mr. Yates who had paid a visit to Bath in the preceding spring. Mr. Yates lived in Cavendish Square, and as his wife was a first cousin of William Price's, they had begged the young man to make their house his home whenever he happened to be in London. Young Price had lately been attached to a ship of the line, the _Andromeda_, which he had been obliged to put into Portsmouth for repairs, and he had been employing some of the period of his enforced leisure in taking up a course of signalling and gunnery, as he was extremely anxious to gain promotion as speedily as possible; but he had found that it was necessary to use other means than those of mere hard work, and at the present time he was living in London, keeping in touch with the Admiralty and endeavouring to recommend himself to every high official and person of influence with whom he could contrive to become acquainted. In the intervals he paid hasty visits to his sisters, who were settled in Northamptonshire, and to his mother at Portsmouth; and being a young man of excellent address, great charm of manner and marked abilities, he had gained a deserved popularity, and could not help enjoying the gaiety of London life, available to him through the hospitality of numerous friends. Mrs. Knightley was extremely pleased with him, and with his next brother, David, who was a clerk in the India Office, and both young men found it a very agreeable house to come to, especially when to the welcome of their hostess was added that of a pretty girl who, warm-hearted and impulsive, did not attempt to conceal her pleasure in their company. David Price was two or three years her junior, and in him Kitty Bennet found only a merry and boyish companion; but the manliness of the young sailor aroused different feelings, and it was not long before she realized that the visits of William Price were becoming the most important thing in her life. She dreamt of him before he came, she had no eyes for anyone else when he was present, and she treasured his words when he had gone; and although she could not honestly read into those words more than a passing friendliness, yet she allowed herself to cherish hopes that each _next_ time there might be something warmer. Poor Kitty had secretly longed to be married ever since she was sixteen; and now at last it seemed as if Destiny itself was working for her, in placing her with so kind a hostess, who was always giving invitations and affording opportunities, and in sending her such a splendid hero of romance to fall in love with, for a hero he was, of a campaign at sea, when he had distinguished himself as much by bravery as he had on shore by industry; a hero with good looks, an assured position, and prize-money saved, and at the present moment with nothing particular to do but fall in love with Miss Kitty Bennet! It was impossible not to feel, under the circumstances, that the course of events was plainly marked out. Mrs. Knightley certainly thought so too, and although she refrained from definite statements, her sympathetic attitude encouraged Kitty to talk herself into hope and self-confidence. The importance of the ball itself in the great scheme of things was not overlooked, and Emma even dreamt now of a brilliant d nouement like last year's. She had invited a large number of people, and was anxious to have as many dancing couples as possible, so Mrs. Hurst's request for permission to bring her brother and Miss Darcy was warmly acceded to, and it was only a matter of regret that their friend Colonel Fitzwilliam could not be induced to go to any balls this season. Kitty was delighted at the prospect of meeting Georgiana again, and when the call spoken of by Mrs. Hurst was being paid, on the day following Georgiana's arrival, she availed herself of a pause in the conversation, and a nod and a smile from Mrs. Knightley, to ask her friend to come to another room for a few moments, on the plea of showing her some new possessions. Georgiana duly admired the bonnets and pelisses, and the gold chain which was Mrs. Knightley's present, and the rose-coloured ball dress which was to make its first appearance on the much-talked-of occasion. Kitty's head was evidently full of this event; she dwelt on it constantly, and from her quick nervous manner Georgiana guessed at some kind of special preoccupation with the subject. "And so you are very happy here, Kitty? Perhaps I need not ask that," she said, as Kitty turned to unfold another new muslin gown. "Oh, very, very happy, perfectly happy," exclaimed Kitty with eagerness. "Mrs. Knightley is so kind, and such nice people come here, you have no idea, Georgiana. Now, do look; is not that beautiful? A real India muslin, and the colour just suits me. You ought to like it, for I bought it with some money Elizabeth gave me." "Yes, dear, I do like it, of course," returned Georgiana; "but tell me some more about yourself. How long were you with the Gardiners?" "I forget just how long, but I came here on the first of June. Oh, I do not know how ever I shall be able to leave! Georgiana, I must tell you! I have been longing to do so, and yet I do not know how I can, after all, for it has not really happened yet. "Of course you have guessed," she went on, in answer to Georgiana's affectionately inquiring glance; "it can only be one thing: but pray do not mention it to anyone, for no one has any idea of it except Mrs. Knightley. It is so wonderful! Georgiana, do you believe in love at first sight?" "I have never thought about it," answered Georgiana honestly, "but I should think it might be possible." "Indeed, indeed, it is possible! It does happen. When you see him, you will know how easily. You will see him on Tuesday night; I do wonder what you will think of him. You must be sure to tell me quite truthfully." "Dear Kitty, you cannot think how glad I am. You mean you are engaged, or just about to be?" "Oh, no, no, no!" exclaimed Kitty, "you do not understand. I think--I hope--but I do not even know if he cares. Sometimes I feel sure he does, and then, again, he seems to be perfectly indifferent, and it is so terrible then, more terrible than you can imagine. But you will see--you will judge for yourself; I shall depend so much upon you for comfort and counsel, especially if Bingley asks him to come down and stay at Desborough, as I mean to persuade him to do." Georgiana was not much enlightened, and her shyness and natural reserve made her hesitate to ask questions on such a subject, which, had she been Kitty, she could not have mentioned to any living creature. But Kitty was evidently longing for sympathy, and poured out her hopes and fears and her reasons for both, mingling with them a description of William Price, painted in the most vivid colours and emphasizing his courage and distinction as an officer, his amiability as a man, his perfection as a ball-room partner, and the high opinion Mr. Knightley and all sensible men had formed of him. Georgiana listened, and was interested almost against her will; she had known Kitty to take fancies several times before for persons who had not returned her regard or thought of doing so; but in this case, from what she could gather, the young man seemed really to deserve Kitty's enthusiasm; they had met under Mrs. Knightley's auspices, he had been very often at the house, and certainly, everything considered, it was much more likely that he should fall in love with Kitty than not. Nevertheless, she hardly knew how to answer her; to encourage her in hopes which might prove false would be the cruellest kindness, so, while, murmuring her wishes for her friend's happiness, she agreed that she must wait for the evening of the ball before she could really tell how far Kitty's dreams were likely to be realized. They talked so long that eventually she had to propose a return to the drawing-room, fearing to be guilty of discourtesy towards Mrs. Knightley; but she was glad that only a moment was left for Kitty's hurried inquiry about her own affairs, as they hastened down the staircase, and that she could therefore dismiss the subject with a light word. Kitty was scarcely satisfied, but finding that Georgiana could not be induced to speak of Colonel Fitzwilliam, returned to her own all-absorbing topic with the remark, "I do wish you could meet someone just like my dear Mr. Price!" Chapter IX The next few days passed rapidly for both girls, and were so full of engagements that they were not able to arrange another meeting, and Georgiana deeply regretted the fact that, except for a glimpse of her at the ball, she should not see Kitty again before Bingley's departure from town. She could only hope that all would go well, and looked forward to a fuller intercourse in Derbyshire in a few weeks' time. Meanwhile, there were many friends to see, and Georgiana would have enjoyed herself thoroughly had she not dreaded the first meeting with Colonel Fitzwilliam, which she felt hanging over her, since Bingley had called on the Colonel and reported him to be in town, but which she did not know when to expect. A slight change in her plans, necessitating a short absence from Mr. Hurst's house, led her to imagine that it would be temporarily averted; but on the very day of the ball, when she and her hostesses had remained at home, and a larger number of visitors than usual happened to be in the room, she experienced a painful shock on hearing his name announced and on seeing him walk into the room. Next moment she was angry with herself for losing her composure, even momentarily, and bracing herself for a possible encounter, she endeavoured to continue to bear her part in a conversation with two or three of Mrs. Hurst's friends, who, she realized gratefully, were strangers to her until that day. It was some minutes afterwards that she was aware of Colonel Fitzwilliam approaching her, guided by Miss Bingley, whose kindly intentions of making the occasion as ordinary as possible only served to intensify its discomfort. Georgiana, however, thought the fault all hers, as, not reassured at all by Caroline's cheerful "Colonel Fitzwilliam was so glad to hear you were staying with us, Georgiana," she found herself only just able to give him her hand with an almost inaudible greeting, while her face, suffused with deepest blushes, must, she felt, have made her noticeable to all around. It was Colonel Fitzwilliam's part to set her at her ease, which he did, to some extent with a few kindly and naturally-expressed sentences, inquiring about her journey, and the health of those she had left behind. Georgiana presently ventured to let her eyes rest on him, and was startled to see how much older he looked even in the short time since she'd seen him, and how ill and worn. A terror seized her heart that she might be guilty of these altered looks, but it passed in an instant; there was not any doubt that their parting had been for the good of both; but poor Cousin Robert, it was plain to see that he had been suffering, from whatever cause, and her sympathy went out to him unconsciously, even while she could hardly talk to him from embarrassment of knowing that Caroline Bingley was standing by, apparently occupied with other people, but drawing conclusions from every word she could hear. "I had intended coming to see you, anyhow, Georgiana," said Fitzwilliam, "but I am very busy, you know--I do not go out much; and you live in a perpetual whirl of gaiety, I expect." He smiled as he spoke, and Georgiana tried to answer in the same spirit, telling him that they had a good many plans, and people were very kind, but she was not really in a whirl, in fact, the very next morning she was leaving for Grosvenor Street for a few days, to spend them quietly with her old friend Mrs. Annesley, who lived in Hans Place, quite away from the bustle of London. "Mrs. Annesley?" repeated Fitzwilliam; "of course I remember her; she will enjoy having you, but how have Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley become reconciled to parting with you even for a week?" Georgiana explained hurriedly that it had been quite a sudden engagement; her old friend had been to see her, and had begged for a short visit from her, if possible, for Mrs. Annesley was on the point of going to India, to live with a married son who had lost his wife, and she might not have the opportunity of seeing her former pupil again for many years. Georgiana had been happy in the opportunity of going to her friend at such a time; her present hostesses had acquiesced, and a week was to be spared to Mrs. Annesley. "But it will be made up in Grosvenor Street next month, I assume," said Colonel Fitzwilliam. "I hardly know--I believe Elizabeth and my brother want me at home again soon--but of course I like being here too," said Georgiana, stumbling over her words, and feeling that she was disgracing herself. If only Caroline would not stand there and seem to be observing them so closely! She did not believe it would be so distressing to talk to Cousin Robert if only they could be together somewhere among strangers. This thought impelled her to ask him, quite at random, for she had every reason to know what his reply would be, whether he was going to Mrs. Knightley's ball. "I am afraid not, Georgiana. I think I am getting too old for balls; but I wish you a great deal of pleasure there." "Oh, Cousin Robert, you are not too old, but you--" she checked herself in this impetuous speech, and ended rather confusedly, "but you look tired"; which was not what she would have wished to say. Her cousin glanced kindly at her, but turned her remark off with a laugh; and as he seemed about to move away, Georgiana, in desperation, and astonished at herself, said timidly: "I hope we may meet again, even though you do not go to balls." "I hope so, too, Georgiana. But of course we shall. I must come some morning and take you all to Kensington Gardens." Georgiana felt that this would not be a great improvement on the present situation, but she could not say any more, and supposed their conversation was at an end, when Fitzwilliam, who had made a step from her, seemed struck with a sudden idea, and turned to her again, saying: "May I come and call on you at Mrs. Annesley's? She will perhaps remember me and--I may not be in town later on." Georgiana flushed with surprise and pleasure, and her eager assent left Fitzwilliam in no doubt as to his reception. He stayed only to assure himself of the number of Mrs. Annesley's house, then bowed and walked rapidly away, as Miss Bingley approached with the evident intention of breaking up their conclave. Georgiana had to submit to a certain amount of comment from the sisters, who, while condoling with her for having had to pass through a uncomfortable few minutes, appeared surprised that she should have been able to talk to Colonel Fitzwilliam, but she herself felt nothing but happiness in having met her cousin again, and found it possible to think of being on those terms with him that Elizabeth had predicted. She spent a part of the afternoon in writing a long letter to her sister, telling her what had happened; but she did not like to send an account of her cousin that might alarm them at home, so she contented herself with saying that he was not looking at all well, and that she wished Elizabeth would persuade him to go down to Pemberley, as he must be working too hard in London. She concluded her writing with the words, "I will leave this open till to-morrow, dear Elizabeth, that I may tell you about the ball, and how Kitty looked." Kitty, indeed, was the chief subject of her thoughts when they dwelt upon the prospect of the evening, and when the time for dressing arrived Kitty's rose-coloured silk occupied her mind far more than her own white satin and pearls. When Mr. and Mrs. Hurst's party entered the ante-room where Mrs. Knightley was receiving her guests, the two girls managed to exchange a few words, and Georgiana gathered that the hero of the evening had not yet appeared, but Kitty was separated from her by the crowd of arrivals, and so it eventually came about that it was their hostess who performed the introduction of Mr. William Price to Miss Darcy. Georgiana's first thought, when she looked at the noble brow and clear blue eye of the young man, was that Kitty's attachment was easily understood, and each moment that she spent in his company strengthened that assurance. She was desirous of liking him, eager to find everything to praise in the admired--and perhaps the admirer--of her friend, and the opportunity came at once in the infectious gaiety and good spirits of the young man and the unaffected warmth of his manner. He asked her for the honour of her hand in several dances; but the first two, she noticed, he danced with Kitty, and from the sparkle in Kitty's eye, and her quick movement as he approached to claim them, Georgiana conjectured that the engagement had been made previously. When Georgiana's turn came, among the excellencies that she discovered in her partner was that of being a perfect dancer; and, moreover, one who moved through the set as if he enjoyed every step. Somewhat shyly she commented on this. "Yes, indeed, Miss Darcy, I am fond of dancing; I began very early, when I was such a small person that you probably wouldn't have seen me in a room, much less have danced with me. We all used to jump about as children, I believe; and on board ship one somehow managed to learn, so as to be ready for the balls." "Were there balls so often?" asked Georgiana. "Yes; wherever we were stationed somebody always seized the opportunity to give a ball, either a private person, or the Governor, or the regiment, or someone. There seems to be a connection established in people's minds between naval men and dancing; anyhow, as soon as there were a few days' quiet, someone would produce musicians and a waxed floor, and we were expected to go and perform. So I decided that I had better like it." "You are a very fortunate person to be able to be able to like

prose

How many times the word 'prose' appears in the text?

Brandon's death, that there had not been time for much intercourse between them and the Darcys, though Elizabeth had been greatly pleased with what she had seen of Mrs. Ferrars. Since the former's return from Bath, and after her experiences there of the other branch of the family, she could appreciate fully the immense superiority of the Edward Ferrars over their relations. Ferrars himself was too quiet, diffident, and reserved a man to recommend himself easily, but in his wife all recognized a woman of a rare and noble nature, distinguished alike by the sweetness of her character and by its strength. The Darcys rejoiced in the increased opportunities of meeting afforded by the presence of their guest, and various walks, drives and out-of-doors excursions were organized, for which the glorious weather of early June afforded every opportunity. The first diminution their party suffered was in the departure of Georgiana for London, which occurred on the seventeenth of the month. The visit had long been talked of, and Georgiana really looked forward with no little pleasure to seeing her old friends, for Caroline Bingley and Louisa took pains not to show to her, of whom they were exceedingly fond, the cold-hearted and worldly aspect of their dispositions; but when she found herself actually in the travelling carriage with Bingley, with her maid seated opposite, she felt, as she did every year, the sensation of leaving all that she cared for behind her, and of entering scenes alarming because unfamiliar. Bingley good-naturedly endeavoured to divert her in every way, talked of the pleasures awaiting her, and of the friends she would see in London, Kitty Bennet and Mrs. Annesley, besides her hostesses, and casually mentioned the possibility of her coming across Colonel Fitzwilliam. Georgiana had been prepared for this by Elizabeth, and had first shrunk from the idea; but afterwards became reconciled to the view put before her, that the first meeting, which must necessarily be painful, must come some time, and it would be best to get it over in a crowd, with a few ordinary words of greeting, which would put them on a comfortable footing for the future. She, therefore, made an effort to reply cheerfully to all Bingley's suggestions, and had not found the journey tedious when they drew up in Grosvenor Street in time for dinner on the third day. Caroline and Louisa could not make enough of her, and the evening was spent in talking over the plans they had formed for her amusement, and in detailing the engagements they had entered into. It soon appeared that the ball which Bingley had mentioned was on their list; for they were also acquainted with Mrs. George Knightley, whose entertainment it was, and had secured invitations from her for their brother and their young friend. Bingley inquired of the date of the ball, explaining how it affected his movements; and his sisters endeavoured to conceal their surprise on hearing that Miss Kitty Bennet was staying with the Knightleys. "I thought, when you spoke of coming to fetch her, Charles, that she was with her uncle and aunt in Gracechurch Street," said Miss Bingley. "To tell the truth, I was not very clear about it myself," returned Bingley. "Jane told me that she was going to stay over this ball, but whether she was with the Gardiners or the Knightleys I did not make out until just before we came away. It does not make a vast deal of difference, to my thinking." "There is certainly some difference; the Knightleys live in Portland Square, for one thing," replied Miss Bingley. "Do they? I am glad of that, for it means I shall not have to drive so far round to pick Kitty up," was Bingley's cheerful answer, and he moved away to speak to Mr. Hurst, leaving his sisters to their speculations as to how Miss Bennet could have come to know the George Knightleys. Georgiana did not know, but conjectured it was through Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner; and the ladies, though they refrained from showing their perplexity, were even more puzzled to account for the uncle who lived in Cheapside being acquainted with such people of fashion. "Have you seen anything of Fitzwilliam, Louisa?" inquired Bingley of his eldest sister, when he came to have his coffee-cup refilled. "Really, Charles, what a foolish question to ask," replied Mrs. Hurst, with affected carelessness. "Of course we see him frequently when he is in town." "Very good; I hope he will come round while I am here, and, if not, I shall get you to give me his direction, for I must certainly look him up before I go back." Mrs. Hurst made a vague answer, for both she and her sister were sincerely anxious to spare Georgiana any embarrassment, and they would not of their own accord have referred to Fitzwilliam until they knew how she was able to bear the mention of his name in public. Caroline immediately began speaking of another subject, but Georgiana, divining their intentions, felt that she must not indulge in a foolish sensibility which might give her friends a false impression of the state of things; so, summoning all her courage, she said, with a deep blush but a tolerably firm voice: "Yes, I hope my cousin may be in town this month. Elizabeth and my brother gave me many messages for him, if I should see him." She was conscious that the ladies were looking at her in surprise, but that Bingley noticed nothing but the amount of milk Louisa was putting in his coffee was a great help, and Caroline, the next moment, said quietly: "Oh, yes, no doubt he will call," which made it unnecessary for Georgiana to say any more. Bingley, having secured his cup, next produced a notebook and proceeded to write down the address of Fitzwilliam's lodgings and the name of his club, and, as an afterthought, the various engagements to which he had been pledged by his sisters. Georgiana found that Mrs. Hurst and Caroline were anxious she should go with them on the following day to call in Portman Square and meet Mrs. George Knightley. Mrs. Knightley, formerly Emma Woodhouse, had, since her marriage, been able to enjoy a larger measure of the social power and influence in the use of which she had always delighted. Since Mr. Woodhouse's death she had persuaded her husband to go into Parliament, and except for short visits to Donwell, they now lived entirely in London--an arrangement which just suited Emma, who had long desired some stir and variety in her life, after having spent so many unbroken years in a country village. Mr. Knightley still took the greatest interest in the farming of his property, and as soon as he was trustee to his sister-in-law, Mrs. John Knightley, for the estate of Hartfield, which had passed to her on her father's death, he found as much to do out of London as in it; while Emma, though fond of Donwell, had grown weary of the neighbourhood, and took a keen pleasure in forming round her in London a large circle of acquaintances, whom she loved to entertain, and in whose characters and careers she took the deepest interest. Mrs. Knightley's ball had become an annual fixture in the month of June, and this year she had a special incentive for giving it and for making it as gay as possible. At her sister's house she had met Mrs. Gardiner, whose husband had long been a close friend in business of Mr. John Knightley. Mrs. Gardiner was chaperoning a niece, Miss Catherine Bennet, a slender, blooming young girl, and pretty without being very striking; but Mrs. Knightley was impressed with her pleasing manners, and the enthusiasm with which she received the prospect of a theatre party which was being discussed on that occasion. It was the work of a moment for Emma to decide that she must ask her sister to bring Miss Bennet to the ball; but during the remainder of the evening, while she considered and observed, an improvement on the first idea suggested itself; Miss Bennet must be invited to stay in Portman Square for the great occasion. What better arrangement could there be? Isabella would not want to stay late, but young girls liked to dance till the last moment, and she, Emma, would have the benefit of Miss Bennet's help in the preparations, and would be able to introduce her to her partners beforehand. Yes, Miss Bennet was certainly very pretty, prettier than she had appeared at first--such a slim, upright figure, such a profusion of hair, such a delicate fairness of complexion; she would be a great success! It would be as delightful as when last year, the girl who was at the ball as Mrs. Knightley's special friend and prot g e had finished the evening triumphantly becoming engaged to the most eligible man present, Sir William Manvers. Emma felt a thrill at the recollection. The event had justified all her admiration for Sophia Lennox, and Mr. Knightley, who had been so sceptical, had been obliged to admit that sometimes people did marry those whom one had destined for them. There was no Sir William Manvers this year, it was true; but Miss Bennet was still young, and there was plenty of time for the right man to appear. In fact, it was really only her due that she should be properly taken out in London, in order that she might have every chance, and this her aunt, Mrs. Gardiner, was quite evidently not able to give her. What wonder that the upshot of these reflections was a courteous note to Mrs. Gardiner, begging for the pleasure of a visit from Miss Bennet as soon as her stay in Gracechurch Street should be concluded. Kitty was in transports of happiness when all was arranged and she found herself actually Mrs. George Knightley's guest, with a ball in prospect, and each day one round of visits and shopping and other delights, with intervals only long enough to admit of changing one elegant gown for another, for her mother and sisters had taken care she should be provided with an ample wardrobe. She soon ceased to regret not having been allowed to accompany Lydia to the West Indies, and before many days were over had discovered a reason to rejoice that she had not gone. Among Mrs. Knightley's frequent visitors at this time was a young naval lieutenant named William Price, whom she had met a short time previously at the house of the same Mr. Yates who had paid a visit to Bath in the preceding spring. Mr. Yates lived in Cavendish Square, and as his wife was a first cousin of William Price's, they had begged the young man to make their house his home whenever he happened to be in London. Young Price had lately been attached to a ship of the line, the _Andromeda_, which he had been obliged to put into Portsmouth for repairs, and he had been employing some of the period of his enforced leisure in taking up a course of signalling and gunnery, as he was extremely anxious to gain promotion as speedily as possible; but he had found that it was necessary to use other means than those of mere hard work, and at the present time he was living in London, keeping in touch with the Admiralty and endeavouring to recommend himself to every high official and person of influence with whom he could contrive to become acquainted. In the intervals he paid hasty visits to his sisters, who were settled in Northamptonshire, and to his mother at Portsmouth; and being a young man of excellent address, great charm of manner and marked abilities, he had gained a deserved popularity, and could not help enjoying the gaiety of London life, available to him through the hospitality of numerous friends. Mrs. Knightley was extremely pleased with him, and with his next brother, David, who was a clerk in the India Office, and both young men found it a very agreeable house to come to, especially when to the welcome of their hostess was added that of a pretty girl who, warm-hearted and impulsive, did not attempt to conceal her pleasure in their company. David Price was two or three years her junior, and in him Kitty Bennet found only a merry and boyish companion; but the manliness of the young sailor aroused different feelings, and it was not long before she realized that the visits of William Price were becoming the most important thing in her life. She dreamt of him before he came, she had no eyes for anyone else when he was present, and she treasured his words when he had gone; and although she could not honestly read into those words more than a passing friendliness, yet she allowed herself to cherish hopes that each _next_ time there might be something warmer. Poor Kitty had secretly longed to be married ever since she was sixteen; and now at last it seemed as if Destiny itself was working for her, in placing her with so kind a hostess, who was always giving invitations and affording opportunities, and in sending her such a splendid hero of romance to fall in love with, for a hero he was, of a campaign at sea, when he had distinguished himself as much by bravery as he had on shore by industry; a hero with good looks, an assured position, and prize-money saved, and at the present moment with nothing particular to do but fall in love with Miss Kitty Bennet! It was impossible not to feel, under the circumstances, that the course of events was plainly marked out. Mrs. Knightley certainly thought so too, and although she refrained from definite statements, her sympathetic attitude encouraged Kitty to talk herself into hope and self-confidence. The importance of the ball itself in the great scheme of things was not overlooked, and Emma even dreamt now of a brilliant d nouement like last year's. She had invited a large number of people, and was anxious to have as many dancing couples as possible, so Mrs. Hurst's request for permission to bring her brother and Miss Darcy was warmly acceded to, and it was only a matter of regret that their friend Colonel Fitzwilliam could not be induced to go to any balls this season. Kitty was delighted at the prospect of meeting Georgiana again, and when the call spoken of by Mrs. Hurst was being paid, on the day following Georgiana's arrival, she availed herself of a pause in the conversation, and a nod and a smile from Mrs. Knightley, to ask her friend to come to another room for a few moments, on the plea of showing her some new possessions. Georgiana duly admired the bonnets and pelisses, and the gold chain which was Mrs. Knightley's present, and the rose-coloured ball dress which was to make its first appearance on the much-talked-of occasion. Kitty's head was evidently full of this event; she dwelt on it constantly, and from her quick nervous manner Georgiana guessed at some kind of special preoccupation with the subject. "And so you are very happy here, Kitty? Perhaps I need not ask that," she said, as Kitty turned to unfold another new muslin gown. "Oh, very, very happy, perfectly happy," exclaimed Kitty with eagerness. "Mrs. Knightley is so kind, and such nice people come here, you have no idea, Georgiana. Now, do look; is not that beautiful? A real India muslin, and the colour just suits me. You ought to like it, for I bought it with some money Elizabeth gave me." "Yes, dear, I do like it, of course," returned Georgiana; "but tell me some more about yourself. How long were you with the Gardiners?" "I forget just how long, but I came here on the first of June. Oh, I do not know how ever I shall be able to leave! Georgiana, I must tell you! I have been longing to do so, and yet I do not know how I can, after all, for it has not really happened yet. "Of course you have guessed," she went on, in answer to Georgiana's affectionately inquiring glance; "it can only be one thing: but pray do not mention it to anyone, for no one has any idea of it except Mrs. Knightley. It is so wonderful! Georgiana, do you believe in love at first sight?" "I have never thought about it," answered Georgiana honestly, "but I should think it might be possible." "Indeed, indeed, it is possible! It does happen. When you see him, you will know how easily. You will see him on Tuesday night; I do wonder what you will think of him. You must be sure to tell me quite truthfully." "Dear Kitty, you cannot think how glad I am. You mean you are engaged, or just about to be?" "Oh, no, no, no!" exclaimed Kitty, "you do not understand. I think--I hope--but I do not even know if he cares. Sometimes I feel sure he does, and then, again, he seems to be perfectly indifferent, and it is so terrible then, more terrible than you can imagine. But you will see--you will judge for yourself; I shall depend so much upon you for comfort and counsel, especially if Bingley asks him to come down and stay at Desborough, as I mean to persuade him to do." Georgiana was not much enlightened, and her shyness and natural reserve made her hesitate to ask questions on such a subject, which, had she been Kitty, she could not have mentioned to any living creature. But Kitty was evidently longing for sympathy, and poured out her hopes and fears and her reasons for both, mingling with them a description of William Price, painted in the most vivid colours and emphasizing his courage and distinction as an officer, his amiability as a man, his perfection as a ball-room partner, and the high opinion Mr. Knightley and all sensible men had formed of him. Georgiana listened, and was interested almost against her will; she had known Kitty to take fancies several times before for persons who had not returned her regard or thought of doing so; but in this case, from what she could gather, the young man seemed really to deserve Kitty's enthusiasm; they had met under Mrs. Knightley's auspices, he had been very often at the house, and certainly, everything considered, it was much more likely that he should fall in love with Kitty than not. Nevertheless, she hardly knew how to answer her; to encourage her in hopes which might prove false would be the cruellest kindness, so, while, murmuring her wishes for her friend's happiness, she agreed that she must wait for the evening of the ball before she could really tell how far Kitty's dreams were likely to be realized. They talked so long that eventually she had to propose a return to the drawing-room, fearing to be guilty of discourtesy towards Mrs. Knightley; but she was glad that only a moment was left for Kitty's hurried inquiry about her own affairs, as they hastened down the staircase, and that she could therefore dismiss the subject with a light word. Kitty was scarcely satisfied, but finding that Georgiana could not be induced to speak of Colonel Fitzwilliam, returned to her own all-absorbing topic with the remark, "I do wish you could meet someone just like my dear Mr. Price!" Chapter IX The next few days passed rapidly for both girls, and were so full of engagements that they were not able to arrange another meeting, and Georgiana deeply regretted the fact that, except for a glimpse of her at the ball, she should not see Kitty again before Bingley's departure from town. She could only hope that all would go well, and looked forward to a fuller intercourse in Derbyshire in a few weeks' time. Meanwhile, there were many friends to see, and Georgiana would have enjoyed herself thoroughly had she not dreaded the first meeting with Colonel Fitzwilliam, which she felt hanging over her, since Bingley had called on the Colonel and reported him to be in town, but which she did not know when to expect. A slight change in her plans, necessitating a short absence from Mr. Hurst's house, led her to imagine that it would be temporarily averted; but on the very day of the ball, when she and her hostesses had remained at home, and a larger number of visitors than usual happened to be in the room, she experienced a painful shock on hearing his name announced and on seeing him walk into the room. Next moment she was angry with herself for losing her composure, even momentarily, and bracing herself for a possible encounter, she endeavoured to continue to bear her part in a conversation with two or three of Mrs. Hurst's friends, who, she realized gratefully, were strangers to her until that day. It was some minutes afterwards that she was aware of Colonel Fitzwilliam approaching her, guided by Miss Bingley, whose kindly intentions of making the occasion as ordinary as possible only served to intensify its discomfort. Georgiana, however, thought the fault all hers, as, not reassured at all by Caroline's cheerful "Colonel Fitzwilliam was so glad to hear you were staying with us, Georgiana," she found herself only just able to give him her hand with an almost inaudible greeting, while her face, suffused with deepest blushes, must, she felt, have made her noticeable to all around. It was Colonel Fitzwilliam's part to set her at her ease, which he did, to some extent with a few kindly and naturally-expressed sentences, inquiring about her journey, and the health of those she had left behind. Georgiana presently ventured to let her eyes rest on him, and was startled to see how much older he looked even in the short time since she'd seen him, and how ill and worn. A terror seized her heart that she might be guilty of these altered looks, but it passed in an instant; there was not any doubt that their parting had been for the good of both; but poor Cousin Robert, it was plain to see that he had been suffering, from whatever cause, and her sympathy went out to him unconsciously, even while she could hardly talk to him from embarrassment of knowing that Caroline Bingley was standing by, apparently occupied with other people, but drawing conclusions from every word she could hear. "I had intended coming to see you, anyhow, Georgiana," said Fitzwilliam, "but I am very busy, you know--I do not go out much; and you live in a perpetual whirl of gaiety, I expect." He smiled as he spoke, and Georgiana tried to answer in the same spirit, telling him that they had a good many plans, and people were very kind, but she was not really in a whirl, in fact, the very next morning she was leaving for Grosvenor Street for a few days, to spend them quietly with her old friend Mrs. Annesley, who lived in Hans Place, quite away from the bustle of London. "Mrs. Annesley?" repeated Fitzwilliam; "of course I remember her; she will enjoy having you, but how have Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley become reconciled to parting with you even for a week?" Georgiana explained hurriedly that it had been quite a sudden engagement; her old friend had been to see her, and had begged for a short visit from her, if possible, for Mrs. Annesley was on the point of going to India, to live with a married son who had lost his wife, and she might not have the opportunity of seeing her former pupil again for many years. Georgiana had been happy in the opportunity of going to her friend at such a time; her present hostesses had acquiesced, and a week was to be spared to Mrs. Annesley. "But it will be made up in Grosvenor Street next month, I assume," said Colonel Fitzwilliam. "I hardly know--I believe Elizabeth and my brother want me at home again soon--but of course I like being here too," said Georgiana, stumbling over her words, and feeling that she was disgracing herself. If only Caroline would not stand there and seem to be observing them so closely! She did not believe it would be so distressing to talk to Cousin Robert if only they could be together somewhere among strangers. This thought impelled her to ask him, quite at random, for she had every reason to know what his reply would be, whether he was going to Mrs. Knightley's ball. "I am afraid not, Georgiana. I think I am getting too old for balls; but I wish you a great deal of pleasure there." "Oh, Cousin Robert, you are not too old, but you--" she checked herself in this impetuous speech, and ended rather confusedly, "but you look tired"; which was not what she would have wished to say. Her cousin glanced kindly at her, but turned her remark off with a laugh; and as he seemed about to move away, Georgiana, in desperation, and astonished at herself, said timidly: "I hope we may meet again, even though you do not go to balls." "I hope so, too, Georgiana. But of course we shall. I must come some morning and take you all to Kensington Gardens." Georgiana felt that this would not be a great improvement on the present situation, but she could not say any more, and supposed their conversation was at an end, when Fitzwilliam, who had made a step from her, seemed struck with a sudden idea, and turned to her again, saying: "May I come and call on you at Mrs. Annesley's? She will perhaps remember me and--I may not be in town later on." Georgiana flushed with surprise and pleasure, and her eager assent left Fitzwilliam in no doubt as to his reception. He stayed only to assure himself of the number of Mrs. Annesley's house, then bowed and walked rapidly away, as Miss Bingley approached with the evident intention of breaking up their conclave. Georgiana had to submit to a certain amount of comment from the sisters, who, while condoling with her for having had to pass through a uncomfortable few minutes, appeared surprised that she should have been able to talk to Colonel Fitzwilliam, but she herself felt nothing but happiness in having met her cousin again, and found it possible to think of being on those terms with him that Elizabeth had predicted. She spent a part of the afternoon in writing a long letter to her sister, telling her what had happened; but she did not like to send an account of her cousin that might alarm them at home, so she contented herself with saying that he was not looking at all well, and that she wished Elizabeth would persuade him to go down to Pemberley, as he must be working too hard in London. She concluded her writing with the words, "I will leave this open till to-morrow, dear Elizabeth, that I may tell you about the ball, and how Kitty looked." Kitty, indeed, was the chief subject of her thoughts when they dwelt upon the prospect of the evening, and when the time for dressing arrived Kitty's rose-coloured silk occupied her mind far more than her own white satin and pearls. When Mr. and Mrs. Hurst's party entered the ante-room where Mrs. Knightley was receiving her guests, the two girls managed to exchange a few words, and Georgiana gathered that the hero of the evening had not yet appeared, but Kitty was separated from her by the crowd of arrivals, and so it eventually came about that it was their hostess who performed the introduction of Mr. William Price to Miss Darcy. Georgiana's first thought, when she looked at the noble brow and clear blue eye of the young man, was that Kitty's attachment was easily understood, and each moment that she spent in his company strengthened that assurance. She was desirous of liking him, eager to find everything to praise in the admired--and perhaps the admirer--of her friend, and the opportunity came at once in the infectious gaiety and good spirits of the young man and the unaffected warmth of his manner. He asked her for the honour of her hand in several dances; but the first two, she noticed, he danced with Kitty, and from the sparkle in Kitty's eye, and her quick movement as he approached to claim them, Georgiana conjectured that the engagement had been made previously. When Georgiana's turn came, among the excellencies that she discovered in her partner was that of being a perfect dancer; and, moreover, one who moved through the set as if he enjoyed every step. Somewhat shyly she commented on this. "Yes, indeed, Miss Darcy, I am fond of dancing; I began very early, when I was such a small person that you probably wouldn't have seen me in a room, much less have danced with me. We all used to jump about as children, I believe; and on board ship one somehow managed to learn, so as to be ready for the balls." "Were there balls so often?" asked Georgiana. "Yes; wherever we were stationed somebody always seized the opportunity to give a ball, either a private person, or the Governor, or the regiment, or someone. There seems to be a connection established in people's minds between naval men and dancing; anyhow, as soon as there were a few days' quiet, someone would produce musicians and a waxed floor, and we were expected to go and perform. So I decided that I had better like it." "You are a very fortunate person to be able to be able to like

pleased

How many times the word 'pleased' appears in the text?

Brandon's death, that there had not been time for much intercourse between them and the Darcys, though Elizabeth had been greatly pleased with what she had seen of Mrs. Ferrars. Since the former's return from Bath, and after her experiences there of the other branch of the family, she could appreciate fully the immense superiority of the Edward Ferrars over their relations. Ferrars himself was too quiet, diffident, and reserved a man to recommend himself easily, but in his wife all recognized a woman of a rare and noble nature, distinguished alike by the sweetness of her character and by its strength. The Darcys rejoiced in the increased opportunities of meeting afforded by the presence of their guest, and various walks, drives and out-of-doors excursions were organized, for which the glorious weather of early June afforded every opportunity. The first diminution their party suffered was in the departure of Georgiana for London, which occurred on the seventeenth of the month. The visit had long been talked of, and Georgiana really looked forward with no little pleasure to seeing her old friends, for Caroline Bingley and Louisa took pains not to show to her, of whom they were exceedingly fond, the cold-hearted and worldly aspect of their dispositions; but when she found herself actually in the travelling carriage with Bingley, with her maid seated opposite, she felt, as she did every year, the sensation of leaving all that she cared for behind her, and of entering scenes alarming because unfamiliar. Bingley good-naturedly endeavoured to divert her in every way, talked of the pleasures awaiting her, and of the friends she would see in London, Kitty Bennet and Mrs. Annesley, besides her hostesses, and casually mentioned the possibility of her coming across Colonel Fitzwilliam. Georgiana had been prepared for this by Elizabeth, and had first shrunk from the idea; but afterwards became reconciled to the view put before her, that the first meeting, which must necessarily be painful, must come some time, and it would be best to get it over in a crowd, with a few ordinary words of greeting, which would put them on a comfortable footing for the future. She, therefore, made an effort to reply cheerfully to all Bingley's suggestions, and had not found the journey tedious when they drew up in Grosvenor Street in time for dinner on the third day. Caroline and Louisa could not make enough of her, and the evening was spent in talking over the plans they had formed for her amusement, and in detailing the engagements they had entered into. It soon appeared that the ball which Bingley had mentioned was on their list; for they were also acquainted with Mrs. George Knightley, whose entertainment it was, and had secured invitations from her for their brother and their young friend. Bingley inquired of the date of the ball, explaining how it affected his movements; and his sisters endeavoured to conceal their surprise on hearing that Miss Kitty Bennet was staying with the Knightleys. "I thought, when you spoke of coming to fetch her, Charles, that she was with her uncle and aunt in Gracechurch Street," said Miss Bingley. "To tell the truth, I was not very clear about it myself," returned Bingley. "Jane told me that she was going to stay over this ball, but whether she was with the Gardiners or the Knightleys I did not make out until just before we came away. It does not make a vast deal of difference, to my thinking." "There is certainly some difference; the Knightleys live in Portland Square, for one thing," replied Miss Bingley. "Do they? I am glad of that, for it means I shall not have to drive so far round to pick Kitty up," was Bingley's cheerful answer, and he moved away to speak to Mr. Hurst, leaving his sisters to their speculations as to how Miss Bennet could have come to know the George Knightleys. Georgiana did not know, but conjectured it was through Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner; and the ladies, though they refrained from showing their perplexity, were even more puzzled to account for the uncle who lived in Cheapside being acquainted with such people of fashion. "Have you seen anything of Fitzwilliam, Louisa?" inquired Bingley of his eldest sister, when he came to have his coffee-cup refilled. "Really, Charles, what a foolish question to ask," replied Mrs. Hurst, with affected carelessness. "Of course we see him frequently when he is in town." "Very good; I hope he will come round while I am here, and, if not, I shall get you to give me his direction, for I must certainly look him up before I go back." Mrs. Hurst made a vague answer, for both she and her sister were sincerely anxious to spare Georgiana any embarrassment, and they would not of their own accord have referred to Fitzwilliam until they knew how she was able to bear the mention of his name in public. Caroline immediately began speaking of another subject, but Georgiana, divining their intentions, felt that she must not indulge in a foolish sensibility which might give her friends a false impression of the state of things; so, summoning all her courage, she said, with a deep blush but a tolerably firm voice: "Yes, I hope my cousin may be in town this month. Elizabeth and my brother gave me many messages for him, if I should see him." She was conscious that the ladies were looking at her in surprise, but that Bingley noticed nothing but the amount of milk Louisa was putting in his coffee was a great help, and Caroline, the next moment, said quietly: "Oh, yes, no doubt he will call," which made it unnecessary for Georgiana to say any more. Bingley, having secured his cup, next produced a notebook and proceeded to write down the address of Fitzwilliam's lodgings and the name of his club, and, as an afterthought, the various engagements to which he had been pledged by his sisters. Georgiana found that Mrs. Hurst and Caroline were anxious she should go with them on the following day to call in Portman Square and meet Mrs. George Knightley. Mrs. Knightley, formerly Emma Woodhouse, had, since her marriage, been able to enjoy a larger measure of the social power and influence in the use of which she had always delighted. Since Mr. Woodhouse's death she had persuaded her husband to go into Parliament, and except for short visits to Donwell, they now lived entirely in London--an arrangement which just suited Emma, who had long desired some stir and variety in her life, after having spent so many unbroken years in a country village. Mr. Knightley still took the greatest interest in the farming of his property, and as soon as he was trustee to his sister-in-law, Mrs. John Knightley, for the estate of Hartfield, which had passed to her on her father's death, he found as much to do out of London as in it; while Emma, though fond of Donwell, had grown weary of the neighbourhood, and took a keen pleasure in forming round her in London a large circle of acquaintances, whom she loved to entertain, and in whose characters and careers she took the deepest interest. Mrs. Knightley's ball had become an annual fixture in the month of June, and this year she had a special incentive for giving it and for making it as gay as possible. At her sister's house she had met Mrs. Gardiner, whose husband had long been a close friend in business of Mr. John Knightley. Mrs. Gardiner was chaperoning a niece, Miss Catherine Bennet, a slender, blooming young girl, and pretty without being very striking; but Mrs. Knightley was impressed with her pleasing manners, and the enthusiasm with which she received the prospect of a theatre party which was being discussed on that occasion. It was the work of a moment for Emma to decide that she must ask her sister to bring Miss Bennet to the ball; but during the remainder of the evening, while she considered and observed, an improvement on the first idea suggested itself; Miss Bennet must be invited to stay in Portman Square for the great occasion. What better arrangement could there be? Isabella would not want to stay late, but young girls liked to dance till the last moment, and she, Emma, would have the benefit of Miss Bennet's help in the preparations, and would be able to introduce her to her partners beforehand. Yes, Miss Bennet was certainly very pretty, prettier than she had appeared at first--such a slim, upright figure, such a profusion of hair, such a delicate fairness of complexion; she would be a great success! It would be as delightful as when last year, the girl who was at the ball as Mrs. Knightley's special friend and prot g e had finished the evening triumphantly becoming engaged to the most eligible man present, Sir William Manvers. Emma felt a thrill at the recollection. The event had justified all her admiration for Sophia Lennox, and Mr. Knightley, who had been so sceptical, had been obliged to admit that sometimes people did marry those whom one had destined for them. There was no Sir William Manvers this year, it was true; but Miss Bennet was still young, and there was plenty of time for the right man to appear. In fact, it was really only her due that she should be properly taken out in London, in order that she might have every chance, and this her aunt, Mrs. Gardiner, was quite evidently not able to give her. What wonder that the upshot of these reflections was a courteous note to Mrs. Gardiner, begging for the pleasure of a visit from Miss Bennet as soon as her stay in Gracechurch Street should be concluded. Kitty was in transports of happiness when all was arranged and she found herself actually Mrs. George Knightley's guest, with a ball in prospect, and each day one round of visits and shopping and other delights, with intervals only long enough to admit of changing one elegant gown for another, for her mother and sisters had taken care she should be provided with an ample wardrobe. She soon ceased to regret not having been allowed to accompany Lydia to the West Indies, and before many days were over had discovered a reason to rejoice that she had not gone. Among Mrs. Knightley's frequent visitors at this time was a young naval lieutenant named William Price, whom she had met a short time previously at the house of the same Mr. Yates who had paid a visit to Bath in the preceding spring. Mr. Yates lived in Cavendish Square, and as his wife was a first cousin of William Price's, they had begged the young man to make their house his home whenever he happened to be in London. Young Price had lately been attached to a ship of the line, the _Andromeda_, which he had been obliged to put into Portsmouth for repairs, and he had been employing some of the period of his enforced leisure in taking up a course of signalling and gunnery, as he was extremely anxious to gain promotion as speedily as possible; but he had found that it was necessary to use other means than those of mere hard work, and at the present time he was living in London, keeping in touch with the Admiralty and endeavouring to recommend himself to every high official and person of influence with whom he could contrive to become acquainted. In the intervals he paid hasty visits to his sisters, who were settled in Northamptonshire, and to his mother at Portsmouth; and being a young man of excellent address, great charm of manner and marked abilities, he had gained a deserved popularity, and could not help enjoying the gaiety of London life, available to him through the hospitality of numerous friends. Mrs. Knightley was extremely pleased with him, and with his next brother, David, who was a clerk in the India Office, and both young men found it a very agreeable house to come to, especially when to the welcome of their hostess was added that of a pretty girl who, warm-hearted and impulsive, did not attempt to conceal her pleasure in their company. David Price was two or three years her junior, and in him Kitty Bennet found only a merry and boyish companion; but the manliness of the young sailor aroused different feelings, and it was not long before she realized that the visits of William Price were becoming the most important thing in her life. She dreamt of him before he came, she had no eyes for anyone else when he was present, and she treasured his words when he had gone; and although she could not honestly read into those words more than a passing friendliness, yet she allowed herself to cherish hopes that each _next_ time there might be something warmer. Poor Kitty had secretly longed to be married ever since she was sixteen; and now at last it seemed as if Destiny itself was working for her, in placing her with so kind a hostess, who was always giving invitations and affording opportunities, and in sending her such a splendid hero of romance to fall in love with, for a hero he was, of a campaign at sea, when he had distinguished himself as much by bravery as he had on shore by industry; a hero with good looks, an assured position, and prize-money saved, and at the present moment with nothing particular to do but fall in love with Miss Kitty Bennet! It was impossible not to feel, under the circumstances, that the course of events was plainly marked out. Mrs. Knightley certainly thought so too, and although she refrained from definite statements, her sympathetic attitude encouraged Kitty to talk herself into hope and self-confidence. The importance of the ball itself in the great scheme of things was not overlooked, and Emma even dreamt now of a brilliant d nouement like last year's. She had invited a large number of people, and was anxious to have as many dancing couples as possible, so Mrs. Hurst's request for permission to bring her brother and Miss Darcy was warmly acceded to, and it was only a matter of regret that their friend Colonel Fitzwilliam could not be induced to go to any balls this season. Kitty was delighted at the prospect of meeting Georgiana again, and when the call spoken of by Mrs. Hurst was being paid, on the day following Georgiana's arrival, she availed herself of a pause in the conversation, and a nod and a smile from Mrs. Knightley, to ask her friend to come to another room for a few moments, on the plea of showing her some new possessions. Georgiana duly admired the bonnets and pelisses, and the gold chain which was Mrs. Knightley's present, and the rose-coloured ball dress which was to make its first appearance on the much-talked-of occasion. Kitty's head was evidently full of this event; she dwelt on it constantly, and from her quick nervous manner Georgiana guessed at some kind of special preoccupation with the subject. "And so you are very happy here, Kitty? Perhaps I need not ask that," she said, as Kitty turned to unfold another new muslin gown. "Oh, very, very happy, perfectly happy," exclaimed Kitty with eagerness. "Mrs. Knightley is so kind, and such nice people come here, you have no idea, Georgiana. Now, do look; is not that beautiful? A real India muslin, and the colour just suits me. You ought to like it, for I bought it with some money Elizabeth gave me." "Yes, dear, I do like it, of course," returned Georgiana; "but tell me some more about yourself. How long were you with the Gardiners?" "I forget just how long, but I came here on the first of June. Oh, I do not know how ever I shall be able to leave! Georgiana, I must tell you! I have been longing to do so, and yet I do not know how I can, after all, for it has not really happened yet. "Of course you have guessed," she went on, in answer to Georgiana's affectionately inquiring glance; "it can only be one thing: but pray do not mention it to anyone, for no one has any idea of it except Mrs. Knightley. It is so wonderful! Georgiana, do you believe in love at first sight?" "I have never thought about it," answered Georgiana honestly, "but I should think it might be possible." "Indeed, indeed, it is possible! It does happen. When you see him, you will know how easily. You will see him on Tuesday night; I do wonder what you will think of him. You must be sure to tell me quite truthfully." "Dear Kitty, you cannot think how glad I am. You mean you are engaged, or just about to be?" "Oh, no, no, no!" exclaimed Kitty, "you do not understand. I think--I hope--but I do not even know if he cares. Sometimes I feel sure he does, and then, again, he seems to be perfectly indifferent, and it is so terrible then, more terrible than you can imagine. But you will see--you will judge for yourself; I shall depend so much upon you for comfort and counsel, especially if Bingley asks him to come down and stay at Desborough, as I mean to persuade him to do." Georgiana was not much enlightened, and her shyness and natural reserve made her hesitate to ask questions on such a subject, which, had she been Kitty, she could not have mentioned to any living creature. But Kitty was evidently longing for sympathy, and poured out her hopes and fears and her reasons for both, mingling with them a description of William Price, painted in the most vivid colours and emphasizing his courage and distinction as an officer, his amiability as a man, his perfection as a ball-room partner, and the high opinion Mr. Knightley and all sensible men had formed of him. Georgiana listened, and was interested almost against her will; she had known Kitty to take fancies several times before for persons who had not returned her regard or thought of doing so; but in this case, from what she could gather, the young man seemed really to deserve Kitty's enthusiasm; they had met under Mrs. Knightley's auspices, he had been very often at the house, and certainly, everything considered, it was much more likely that he should fall in love with Kitty than not. Nevertheless, she hardly knew how to answer her; to encourage her in hopes which might prove false would be the cruellest kindness, so, while, murmuring her wishes for her friend's happiness, she agreed that she must wait for the evening of the ball before she could really tell how far Kitty's dreams were likely to be realized. They talked so long that eventually she had to propose a return to the drawing-room, fearing to be guilty of discourtesy towards Mrs. Knightley; but she was glad that only a moment was left for Kitty's hurried inquiry about her own affairs, as they hastened down the staircase, and that she could therefore dismiss the subject with a light word. Kitty was scarcely satisfied, but finding that Georgiana could not be induced to speak of Colonel Fitzwilliam, returned to her own all-absorbing topic with the remark, "I do wish you could meet someone just like my dear Mr. Price!" Chapter IX The next few days passed rapidly for both girls, and were so full of engagements that they were not able to arrange another meeting, and Georgiana deeply regretted the fact that, except for a glimpse of her at the ball, she should not see Kitty again before Bingley's departure from town. She could only hope that all would go well, and looked forward to a fuller intercourse in Derbyshire in a few weeks' time. Meanwhile, there were many friends to see, and Georgiana would have enjoyed herself thoroughly had she not dreaded the first meeting with Colonel Fitzwilliam, which she felt hanging over her, since Bingley had called on the Colonel and reported him to be in town, but which she did not know when to expect. A slight change in her plans, necessitating a short absence from Mr. Hurst's house, led her to imagine that it would be temporarily averted; but on the very day of the ball, when she and her hostesses had remained at home, and a larger number of visitors than usual happened to be in the room, she experienced a painful shock on hearing his name announced and on seeing him walk into the room. Next moment she was angry with herself for losing her composure, even momentarily, and bracing herself for a possible encounter, she endeavoured to continue to bear her part in a conversation with two or three of Mrs. Hurst's friends, who, she realized gratefully, were strangers to her until that day. It was some minutes afterwards that she was aware of Colonel Fitzwilliam approaching her, guided by Miss Bingley, whose kindly intentions of making the occasion as ordinary as possible only served to intensify its discomfort. Georgiana, however, thought the fault all hers, as, not reassured at all by Caroline's cheerful "Colonel Fitzwilliam was so glad to hear you were staying with us, Georgiana," she found herself only just able to give him her hand with an almost inaudible greeting, while her face, suffused with deepest blushes, must, she felt, have made her noticeable to all around. It was Colonel Fitzwilliam's part to set her at her ease, which he did, to some extent with a few kindly and naturally-expressed sentences, inquiring about her journey, and the health of those she had left behind. Georgiana presently ventured to let her eyes rest on him, and was startled to see how much older he looked even in the short time since she'd seen him, and how ill and worn. A terror seized her heart that she might be guilty of these altered looks, but it passed in an instant; there was not any doubt that their parting had been for the good of both; but poor Cousin Robert, it was plain to see that he had been suffering, from whatever cause, and her sympathy went out to him unconsciously, even while she could hardly talk to him from embarrassment of knowing that Caroline Bingley was standing by, apparently occupied with other people, but drawing conclusions from every word she could hear. "I had intended coming to see you, anyhow, Georgiana," said Fitzwilliam, "but I am very busy, you know--I do not go out much; and you live in a perpetual whirl of gaiety, I expect." He smiled as he spoke, and Georgiana tried to answer in the same spirit, telling him that they had a good many plans, and people were very kind, but she was not really in a whirl, in fact, the very next morning she was leaving for Grosvenor Street for a few days, to spend them quietly with her old friend Mrs. Annesley, who lived in Hans Place, quite away from the bustle of London. "Mrs. Annesley?" repeated Fitzwilliam; "of course I remember her; she will enjoy having you, but how have Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley become reconciled to parting with you even for a week?" Georgiana explained hurriedly that it had been quite a sudden engagement; her old friend had been to see her, and had begged for a short visit from her, if possible, for Mrs. Annesley was on the point of going to India, to live with a married son who had lost his wife, and she might not have the opportunity of seeing her former pupil again for many years. Georgiana had been happy in the opportunity of going to her friend at such a time; her present hostesses had acquiesced, and a week was to be spared to Mrs. Annesley. "But it will be made up in Grosvenor Street next month, I assume," said Colonel Fitzwilliam. "I hardly know--I believe Elizabeth and my brother want me at home again soon--but of course I like being here too," said Georgiana, stumbling over her words, and feeling that she was disgracing herself. If only Caroline would not stand there and seem to be observing them so closely! She did not believe it would be so distressing to talk to Cousin Robert if only they could be together somewhere among strangers. This thought impelled her to ask him, quite at random, for she had every reason to know what his reply would be, whether he was going to Mrs. Knightley's ball. "I am afraid not, Georgiana. I think I am getting too old for balls; but I wish you a great deal of pleasure there." "Oh, Cousin Robert, you are not too old, but you--" she checked herself in this impetuous speech, and ended rather confusedly, "but you look tired"; which was not what she would have wished to say. Her cousin glanced kindly at her, but turned her remark off with a laugh; and as he seemed about to move away, Georgiana, in desperation, and astonished at herself, said timidly: "I hope we may meet again, even though you do not go to balls." "I hope so, too, Georgiana. But of course we shall. I must come some morning and take you all to Kensington Gardens." Georgiana felt that this would not be a great improvement on the present situation, but she could not say any more, and supposed their conversation was at an end, when Fitzwilliam, who had made a step from her, seemed struck with a sudden idea, and turned to her again, saying: "May I come and call on you at Mrs. Annesley's? She will perhaps remember me and--I may not be in town later on." Georgiana flushed with surprise and pleasure, and her eager assent left Fitzwilliam in no doubt as to his reception. He stayed only to assure himself of the number of Mrs. Annesley's house, then bowed and walked rapidly away, as Miss Bingley approached with the evident intention of breaking up their conclave. Georgiana had to submit to a certain amount of comment from the sisters, who, while condoling with her for having had to pass through a uncomfortable few minutes, appeared surprised that she should have been able to talk to Colonel Fitzwilliam, but she herself felt nothing but happiness in having met her cousin again, and found it possible to think of being on those terms with him that Elizabeth had predicted. She spent a part of the afternoon in writing a long letter to her sister, telling her what had happened; but she did not like to send an account of her cousin that might alarm them at home, so she contented herself with saying that he was not looking at all well, and that she wished Elizabeth would persuade him to go down to Pemberley, as he must be working too hard in London. She concluded her writing with the words, "I will leave this open till to-morrow, dear Elizabeth, that I may tell you about the ball, and how Kitty looked." Kitty, indeed, was the chief subject of her thoughts when they dwelt upon the prospect of the evening, and when the time for dressing arrived Kitty's rose-coloured silk occupied her mind far more than her own white satin and pearls. When Mr. and Mrs. Hurst's party entered the ante-room where Mrs. Knightley was receiving her guests, the two girls managed to exchange a few words, and Georgiana gathered that the hero of the evening had not yet appeared, but Kitty was separated from her by the crowd of arrivals, and so it eventually came about that it was their hostess who performed the introduction of Mr. William Price to Miss Darcy. Georgiana's first thought, when she looked at the noble brow and clear blue eye of the young man, was that Kitty's attachment was easily understood, and each moment that she spent in his company strengthened that assurance. She was desirous of liking him, eager to find everything to praise in the admired--and perhaps the admirer--of her friend, and the opportunity came at once in the infectious gaiety and good spirits of the young man and the unaffected warmth of his manner. He asked her for the honour of her hand in several dances; but the first two, she noticed, he danced with Kitty, and from the sparkle in Kitty's eye, and her quick movement as he approached to claim them, Georgiana conjectured that the engagement had been made previously. When Georgiana's turn came, among the excellencies that she discovered in her partner was that of being a perfect dancer; and, moreover, one who moved through the set as if he enjoyed every step. Somewhat shyly she commented on this. "Yes, indeed, Miss Darcy, I am fond of dancing; I began very early, when I was such a small person that you probably wouldn't have seen me in a room, much less have danced with me. We all used to jump about as children, I believe; and on board ship one somehow managed to learn, so as to be ready for the balls." "Were there balls so often?" asked Georgiana. "Yes; wherever we were stationed somebody always seized the opportunity to give a ball, either a private person, or the Governor, or the regiment, or someone. There seems to be a connection established in people's minds between naval men and dancing; anyhow, as soon as there were a few days' quiet, someone would produce musicians and a waxed floor, and we were expected to go and perform. So I decided that I had better like it." "You are a very fortunate person to be able to be able to like

carelessness

How many times the word 'carelessness' appears in the text?

Brandon's death, that there had not been time for much intercourse between them and the Darcys, though Elizabeth had been greatly pleased with what she had seen of Mrs. Ferrars. Since the former's return from Bath, and after her experiences there of the other branch of the family, she could appreciate fully the immense superiority of the Edward Ferrars over their relations. Ferrars himself was too quiet, diffident, and reserved a man to recommend himself easily, but in his wife all recognized a woman of a rare and noble nature, distinguished alike by the sweetness of her character and by its strength. The Darcys rejoiced in the increased opportunities of meeting afforded by the presence of their guest, and various walks, drives and out-of-doors excursions were organized, for which the glorious weather of early June afforded every opportunity. The first diminution their party suffered was in the departure of Georgiana for London, which occurred on the seventeenth of the month. The visit had long been talked of, and Georgiana really looked forward with no little pleasure to seeing her old friends, for Caroline Bingley and Louisa took pains not to show to her, of whom they were exceedingly fond, the cold-hearted and worldly aspect of their dispositions; but when she found herself actually in the travelling carriage with Bingley, with her maid seated opposite, she felt, as she did every year, the sensation of leaving all that she cared for behind her, and of entering scenes alarming because unfamiliar. Bingley good-naturedly endeavoured to divert her in every way, talked of the pleasures awaiting her, and of the friends she would see in London, Kitty Bennet and Mrs. Annesley, besides her hostesses, and casually mentioned the possibility of her coming across Colonel Fitzwilliam. Georgiana had been prepared for this by Elizabeth, and had first shrunk from the idea; but afterwards became reconciled to the view put before her, that the first meeting, which must necessarily be painful, must come some time, and it would be best to get it over in a crowd, with a few ordinary words of greeting, which would put them on a comfortable footing for the future. She, therefore, made an effort to reply cheerfully to all Bingley's suggestions, and had not found the journey tedious when they drew up in Grosvenor Street in time for dinner on the third day. Caroline and Louisa could not make enough of her, and the evening was spent in talking over the plans they had formed for her amusement, and in detailing the engagements they had entered into. It soon appeared that the ball which Bingley had mentioned was on their list; for they were also acquainted with Mrs. George Knightley, whose entertainment it was, and had secured invitations from her for their brother and their young friend. Bingley inquired of the date of the ball, explaining how it affected his movements; and his sisters endeavoured to conceal their surprise on hearing that Miss Kitty Bennet was staying with the Knightleys. "I thought, when you spoke of coming to fetch her, Charles, that she was with her uncle and aunt in Gracechurch Street," said Miss Bingley. "To tell the truth, I was not very clear about it myself," returned Bingley. "Jane told me that she was going to stay over this ball, but whether she was with the Gardiners or the Knightleys I did not make out until just before we came away. It does not make a vast deal of difference, to my thinking." "There is certainly some difference; the Knightleys live in Portland Square, for one thing," replied Miss Bingley. "Do they? I am glad of that, for it means I shall not have to drive so far round to pick Kitty up," was Bingley's cheerful answer, and he moved away to speak to Mr. Hurst, leaving his sisters to their speculations as to how Miss Bennet could have come to know the George Knightleys. Georgiana did not know, but conjectured it was through Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner; and the ladies, though they refrained from showing their perplexity, were even more puzzled to account for the uncle who lived in Cheapside being acquainted with such people of fashion. "Have you seen anything of Fitzwilliam, Louisa?" inquired Bingley of his eldest sister, when he came to have his coffee-cup refilled. "Really, Charles, what a foolish question to ask," replied Mrs. Hurst, with affected carelessness. "Of course we see him frequently when he is in town." "Very good; I hope he will come round while I am here, and, if not, I shall get you to give me his direction, for I must certainly look him up before I go back." Mrs. Hurst made a vague answer, for both she and her sister were sincerely anxious to spare Georgiana any embarrassment, and they would not of their own accord have referred to Fitzwilliam until they knew how she was able to bear the mention of his name in public. Caroline immediately began speaking of another subject, but Georgiana, divining their intentions, felt that she must not indulge in a foolish sensibility which might give her friends a false impression of the state of things; so, summoning all her courage, she said, with a deep blush but a tolerably firm voice: "Yes, I hope my cousin may be in town this month. Elizabeth and my brother gave me many messages for him, if I should see him." She was conscious that the ladies were looking at her in surprise, but that Bingley noticed nothing but the amount of milk Louisa was putting in his coffee was a great help, and Caroline, the next moment, said quietly: "Oh, yes, no doubt he will call," which made it unnecessary for Georgiana to say any more. Bingley, having secured his cup, next produced a notebook and proceeded to write down the address of Fitzwilliam's lodgings and the name of his club, and, as an afterthought, the various engagements to which he had been pledged by his sisters. Georgiana found that Mrs. Hurst and Caroline were anxious she should go with them on the following day to call in Portman Square and meet Mrs. George Knightley. Mrs. Knightley, formerly Emma Woodhouse, had, since her marriage, been able to enjoy a larger measure of the social power and influence in the use of which she had always delighted. Since Mr. Woodhouse's death she had persuaded her husband to go into Parliament, and except for short visits to Donwell, they now lived entirely in London--an arrangement which just suited Emma, who had long desired some stir and variety in her life, after having spent so many unbroken years in a country village. Mr. Knightley still took the greatest interest in the farming of his property, and as soon as he was trustee to his sister-in-law, Mrs. John Knightley, for the estate of Hartfield, which had passed to her on her father's death, he found as much to do out of London as in it; while Emma, though fond of Donwell, had grown weary of the neighbourhood, and took a keen pleasure in forming round her in London a large circle of acquaintances, whom she loved to entertain, and in whose characters and careers she took the deepest interest. Mrs. Knightley's ball had become an annual fixture in the month of June, and this year she had a special incentive for giving it and for making it as gay as possible. At her sister's house she had met Mrs. Gardiner, whose husband had long been a close friend in business of Mr. John Knightley. Mrs. Gardiner was chaperoning a niece, Miss Catherine Bennet, a slender, blooming young girl, and pretty without being very striking; but Mrs. Knightley was impressed with her pleasing manners, and the enthusiasm with which she received the prospect of a theatre party which was being discussed on that occasion. It was the work of a moment for Emma to decide that she must ask her sister to bring Miss Bennet to the ball; but during the remainder of the evening, while she considered and observed, an improvement on the first idea suggested itself; Miss Bennet must be invited to stay in Portman Square for the great occasion. What better arrangement could there be? Isabella would not want to stay late, but young girls liked to dance till the last moment, and she, Emma, would have the benefit of Miss Bennet's help in the preparations, and would be able to introduce her to her partners beforehand. Yes, Miss Bennet was certainly very pretty, prettier than she had appeared at first--such a slim, upright figure, such a profusion of hair, such a delicate fairness of complexion; she would be a great success! It would be as delightful as when last year, the girl who was at the ball as Mrs. Knightley's special friend and prot g e had finished the evening triumphantly becoming engaged to the most eligible man present, Sir William Manvers. Emma felt a thrill at the recollection. The event had justified all her admiration for Sophia Lennox, and Mr. Knightley, who had been so sceptical, had been obliged to admit that sometimes people did marry those whom one had destined for them. There was no Sir William Manvers this year, it was true; but Miss Bennet was still young, and there was plenty of time for the right man to appear. In fact, it was really only her due that she should be properly taken out in London, in order that she might have every chance, and this her aunt, Mrs. Gardiner, was quite evidently not able to give her. What wonder that the upshot of these reflections was a courteous note to Mrs. Gardiner, begging for the pleasure of a visit from Miss Bennet as soon as her stay in Gracechurch Street should be concluded. Kitty was in transports of happiness when all was arranged and she found herself actually Mrs. George Knightley's guest, with a ball in prospect, and each day one round of visits and shopping and other delights, with intervals only long enough to admit of changing one elegant gown for another, for her mother and sisters had taken care she should be provided with an ample wardrobe. She soon ceased to regret not having been allowed to accompany Lydia to the West Indies, and before many days were over had discovered a reason to rejoice that she had not gone. Among Mrs. Knightley's frequent visitors at this time was a young naval lieutenant named William Price, whom she had met a short time previously at the house of the same Mr. Yates who had paid a visit to Bath in the preceding spring. Mr. Yates lived in Cavendish Square, and as his wife was a first cousin of William Price's, they had begged the young man to make their house his home whenever he happened to be in London. Young Price had lately been attached to a ship of the line, the _Andromeda_, which he had been obliged to put into Portsmouth for repairs, and he had been employing some of the period of his enforced leisure in taking up a course of signalling and gunnery, as he was extremely anxious to gain promotion as speedily as possible; but he had found that it was necessary to use other means than those of mere hard work, and at the present time he was living in London, keeping in touch with the Admiralty and endeavouring to recommend himself to every high official and person of influence with whom he could contrive to become acquainted. In the intervals he paid hasty visits to his sisters, who were settled in Northamptonshire, and to his mother at Portsmouth; and being a young man of excellent address, great charm of manner and marked abilities, he had gained a deserved popularity, and could not help enjoying the gaiety of London life, available to him through the hospitality of numerous friends. Mrs. Knightley was extremely pleased with him, and with his next brother, David, who was a clerk in the India Office, and both young men found it a very agreeable house to come to, especially when to the welcome of their hostess was added that of a pretty girl who, warm-hearted and impulsive, did not attempt to conceal her pleasure in their company. David Price was two or three years her junior, and in him Kitty Bennet found only a merry and boyish companion; but the manliness of the young sailor aroused different feelings, and it was not long before she realized that the visits of William Price were becoming the most important thing in her life. She dreamt of him before he came, she had no eyes for anyone else when he was present, and she treasured his words when he had gone; and although she could not honestly read into those words more than a passing friendliness, yet she allowed herself to cherish hopes that each _next_ time there might be something warmer. Poor Kitty had secretly longed to be married ever since she was sixteen; and now at last it seemed as if Destiny itself was working for her, in placing her with so kind a hostess, who was always giving invitations and affording opportunities, and in sending her such a splendid hero of romance to fall in love with, for a hero he was, of a campaign at sea, when he had distinguished himself as much by bravery as he had on shore by industry; a hero with good looks, an assured position, and prize-money saved, and at the present moment with nothing particular to do but fall in love with Miss Kitty Bennet! It was impossible not to feel, under the circumstances, that the course of events was plainly marked out. Mrs. Knightley certainly thought so too, and although she refrained from definite statements, her sympathetic attitude encouraged Kitty to talk herself into hope and self-confidence. The importance of the ball itself in the great scheme of things was not overlooked, and Emma even dreamt now of a brilliant d nouement like last year's. She had invited a large number of people, and was anxious to have as many dancing couples as possible, so Mrs. Hurst's request for permission to bring her brother and Miss Darcy was warmly acceded to, and it was only a matter of regret that their friend Colonel Fitzwilliam could not be induced to go to any balls this season. Kitty was delighted at the prospect of meeting Georgiana again, and when the call spoken of by Mrs. Hurst was being paid, on the day following Georgiana's arrival, she availed herself of a pause in the conversation, and a nod and a smile from Mrs. Knightley, to ask her friend to come to another room for a few moments, on the plea of showing her some new possessions. Georgiana duly admired the bonnets and pelisses, and the gold chain which was Mrs. Knightley's present, and the rose-coloured ball dress which was to make its first appearance on the much-talked-of occasion. Kitty's head was evidently full of this event; she dwelt on it constantly, and from her quick nervous manner Georgiana guessed at some kind of special preoccupation with the subject. "And so you are very happy here, Kitty? Perhaps I need not ask that," she said, as Kitty turned to unfold another new muslin gown. "Oh, very, very happy, perfectly happy," exclaimed Kitty with eagerness. "Mrs. Knightley is so kind, and such nice people come here, you have no idea, Georgiana. Now, do look; is not that beautiful? A real India muslin, and the colour just suits me. You ought to like it, for I bought it with some money Elizabeth gave me." "Yes, dear, I do like it, of course," returned Georgiana; "but tell me some more about yourself. How long were you with the Gardiners?" "I forget just how long, but I came here on the first of June. Oh, I do not know how ever I shall be able to leave! Georgiana, I must tell you! I have been longing to do so, and yet I do not know how I can, after all, for it has not really happened yet. "Of course you have guessed," she went on, in answer to Georgiana's affectionately inquiring glance; "it can only be one thing: but pray do not mention it to anyone, for no one has any idea of it except Mrs. Knightley. It is so wonderful! Georgiana, do you believe in love at first sight?" "I have never thought about it," answered Georgiana honestly, "but I should think it might be possible." "Indeed, indeed, it is possible! It does happen. When you see him, you will know how easily. You will see him on Tuesday night; I do wonder what you will think of him. You must be sure to tell me quite truthfully." "Dear Kitty, you cannot think how glad I am. You mean you are engaged, or just about to be?" "Oh, no, no, no!" exclaimed Kitty, "you do not understand. I think--I hope--but I do not even know if he cares. Sometimes I feel sure he does, and then, again, he seems to be perfectly indifferent, and it is so terrible then, more terrible than you can imagine. But you will see--you will judge for yourself; I shall depend so much upon you for comfort and counsel, especially if Bingley asks him to come down and stay at Desborough, as I mean to persuade him to do." Georgiana was not much enlightened, and her shyness and natural reserve made her hesitate to ask questions on such a subject, which, had she been Kitty, she could not have mentioned to any living creature. But Kitty was evidently longing for sympathy, and poured out her hopes and fears and her reasons for both, mingling with them a description of William Price, painted in the most vivid colours and emphasizing his courage and distinction as an officer, his amiability as a man, his perfection as a ball-room partner, and the high opinion Mr. Knightley and all sensible men had formed of him. Georgiana listened, and was interested almost against her will; she had known Kitty to take fancies several times before for persons who had not returned her regard or thought of doing so; but in this case, from what she could gather, the young man seemed really to deserve Kitty's enthusiasm; they had met under Mrs. Knightley's auspices, he had been very often at the house, and certainly, everything considered, it was much more likely that he should fall in love with Kitty than not. Nevertheless, she hardly knew how to answer her; to encourage her in hopes which might prove false would be the cruellest kindness, so, while, murmuring her wishes for her friend's happiness, she agreed that she must wait for the evening of the ball before she could really tell how far Kitty's dreams were likely to be realized. They talked so long that eventually she had to propose a return to the drawing-room, fearing to be guilty of discourtesy towards Mrs. Knightley; but she was glad that only a moment was left for Kitty's hurried inquiry about her own affairs, as they hastened down the staircase, and that she could therefore dismiss the subject with a light word. Kitty was scarcely satisfied, but finding that Georgiana could not be induced to speak of Colonel Fitzwilliam, returned to her own all-absorbing topic with the remark, "I do wish you could meet someone just like my dear Mr. Price!" Chapter IX The next few days passed rapidly for both girls, and were so full of engagements that they were not able to arrange another meeting, and Georgiana deeply regretted the fact that, except for a glimpse of her at the ball, she should not see Kitty again before Bingley's departure from town. She could only hope that all would go well, and looked forward to a fuller intercourse in Derbyshire in a few weeks' time. Meanwhile, there were many friends to see, and Georgiana would have enjoyed herself thoroughly had she not dreaded the first meeting with Colonel Fitzwilliam, which she felt hanging over her, since Bingley had called on the Colonel and reported him to be in town, but which she did not know when to expect. A slight change in her plans, necessitating a short absence from Mr. Hurst's house, led her to imagine that it would be temporarily averted; but on the very day of the ball, when she and her hostesses had remained at home, and a larger number of visitors than usual happened to be in the room, she experienced a painful shock on hearing his name announced and on seeing him walk into the room. Next moment she was angry with herself for losing her composure, even momentarily, and bracing herself for a possible encounter, she endeavoured to continue to bear her part in a conversation with two or three of Mrs. Hurst's friends, who, she realized gratefully, were strangers to her until that day. It was some minutes afterwards that she was aware of Colonel Fitzwilliam approaching her, guided by Miss Bingley, whose kindly intentions of making the occasion as ordinary as possible only served to intensify its discomfort. Georgiana, however, thought the fault all hers, as, not reassured at all by Caroline's cheerful "Colonel Fitzwilliam was so glad to hear you were staying with us, Georgiana," she found herself only just able to give him her hand with an almost inaudible greeting, while her face, suffused with deepest blushes, must, she felt, have made her noticeable to all around. It was Colonel Fitzwilliam's part to set her at her ease, which he did, to some extent with a few kindly and naturally-expressed sentences, inquiring about her journey, and the health of those she had left behind. Georgiana presently ventured to let her eyes rest on him, and was startled to see how much older he looked even in the short time since she'd seen him, and how ill and worn. A terror seized her heart that she might be guilty of these altered looks, but it passed in an instant; there was not any doubt that their parting had been for the good of both; but poor Cousin Robert, it was plain to see that he had been suffering, from whatever cause, and her sympathy went out to him unconsciously, even while she could hardly talk to him from embarrassment of knowing that Caroline Bingley was standing by, apparently occupied with other people, but drawing conclusions from every word she could hear. "I had intended coming to see you, anyhow, Georgiana," said Fitzwilliam, "but I am very busy, you know--I do not go out much; and you live in a perpetual whirl of gaiety, I expect." He smiled as he spoke, and Georgiana tried to answer in the same spirit, telling him that they had a good many plans, and people were very kind, but she was not really in a whirl, in fact, the very next morning she was leaving for Grosvenor Street for a few days, to spend them quietly with her old friend Mrs. Annesley, who lived in Hans Place, quite away from the bustle of London. "Mrs. Annesley?" repeated Fitzwilliam; "of course I remember her; she will enjoy having you, but how have Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley become reconciled to parting with you even for a week?" Georgiana explained hurriedly that it had been quite a sudden engagement; her old friend had been to see her, and had begged for a short visit from her, if possible, for Mrs. Annesley was on the point of going to India, to live with a married son who had lost his wife, and she might not have the opportunity of seeing her former pupil again for many years. Georgiana had been happy in the opportunity of going to her friend at such a time; her present hostesses had acquiesced, and a week was to be spared to Mrs. Annesley. "But it will be made up in Grosvenor Street next month, I assume," said Colonel Fitzwilliam. "I hardly know--I believe Elizabeth and my brother want me at home again soon--but of course I like being here too," said Georgiana, stumbling over her words, and feeling that she was disgracing herself. If only Caroline would not stand there and seem to be observing them so closely! She did not believe it would be so distressing to talk to Cousin Robert if only they could be together somewhere among strangers. This thought impelled her to ask him, quite at random, for she had every reason to know what his reply would be, whether he was going to Mrs. Knightley's ball. "I am afraid not, Georgiana. I think I am getting too old for balls; but I wish you a great deal of pleasure there." "Oh, Cousin Robert, you are not too old, but you--" she checked herself in this impetuous speech, and ended rather confusedly, "but you look tired"; which was not what she would have wished to say. Her cousin glanced kindly at her, but turned her remark off with a laugh; and as he seemed about to move away, Georgiana, in desperation, and astonished at herself, said timidly: "I hope we may meet again, even though you do not go to balls." "I hope so, too, Georgiana. But of course we shall. I must come some morning and take you all to Kensington Gardens." Georgiana felt that this would not be a great improvement on the present situation, but she could not say any more, and supposed their conversation was at an end, when Fitzwilliam, who had made a step from her, seemed struck with a sudden idea, and turned to her again, saying: "May I come and call on you at Mrs. Annesley's? She will perhaps remember me and--I may not be in town later on." Georgiana flushed with surprise and pleasure, and her eager assent left Fitzwilliam in no doubt as to his reception. He stayed only to assure himself of the number of Mrs. Annesley's house, then bowed and walked rapidly away, as Miss Bingley approached with the evident intention of breaking up their conclave. Georgiana had to submit to a certain amount of comment from the sisters, who, while condoling with her for having had to pass through a uncomfortable few minutes, appeared surprised that she should have been able to talk to Colonel Fitzwilliam, but she herself felt nothing but happiness in having met her cousin again, and found it possible to think of being on those terms with him that Elizabeth had predicted. She spent a part of the afternoon in writing a long letter to her sister, telling her what had happened; but she did not like to send an account of her cousin that might alarm them at home, so she contented herself with saying that he was not looking at all well, and that she wished Elizabeth would persuade him to go down to Pemberley, as he must be working too hard in London. She concluded her writing with the words, "I will leave this open till to-morrow, dear Elizabeth, that I may tell you about the ball, and how Kitty looked." Kitty, indeed, was the chief subject of her thoughts when they dwelt upon the prospect of the evening, and when the time for dressing arrived Kitty's rose-coloured silk occupied her mind far more than her own white satin and pearls. When Mr. and Mrs. Hurst's party entered the ante-room where Mrs. Knightley was receiving her guests, the two girls managed to exchange a few words, and Georgiana gathered that the hero of the evening had not yet appeared, but Kitty was separated from her by the crowd of arrivals, and so it eventually came about that it was their hostess who performed the introduction of Mr. William Price to Miss Darcy. Georgiana's first thought, when she looked at the noble brow and clear blue eye of the young man, was that Kitty's attachment was easily understood, and each moment that she spent in his company strengthened that assurance. She was desirous of liking him, eager to find everything to praise in the admired--and perhaps the admirer--of her friend, and the opportunity came at once in the infectious gaiety and good spirits of the young man and the unaffected warmth of his manner. He asked her for the honour of her hand in several dances; but the first two, she noticed, he danced with Kitty, and from the sparkle in Kitty's eye, and her quick movement as he approached to claim them, Georgiana conjectured that the engagement had been made previously. When Georgiana's turn came, among the excellencies that she discovered in her partner was that of being a perfect dancer; and, moreover, one who moved through the set as if he enjoyed every step. Somewhat shyly she commented on this. "Yes, indeed, Miss Darcy, I am fond of dancing; I began very early, when I was such a small person that you probably wouldn't have seen me in a room, much less have danced with me. We all used to jump about as children, I believe; and on board ship one somehow managed to learn, so as to be ready for the balls." "Were there balls so often?" asked Georgiana. "Yes; wherever we were stationed somebody always seized the opportunity to give a ball, either a private person, or the Governor, or the regiment, or someone. There seems to be a connection established in people's minds between naval men and dancing; anyhow, as soon as there were a few days' quiet, someone would produce musicians and a waxed floor, and we were expected to go and perform. So I decided that I had better like it." "You are a very fortunate person to be able to be able to like

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Brandon's death, that there had not been time for much intercourse between them and the Darcys, though Elizabeth had been greatly pleased with what she had seen of Mrs. Ferrars. Since the former's return from Bath, and after her experiences there of the other branch of the family, she could appreciate fully the immense superiority of the Edward Ferrars over their relations. Ferrars himself was too quiet, diffident, and reserved a man to recommend himself easily, but in his wife all recognized a woman of a rare and noble nature, distinguished alike by the sweetness of her character and by its strength. The Darcys rejoiced in the increased opportunities of meeting afforded by the presence of their guest, and various walks, drives and out-of-doors excursions were organized, for which the glorious weather of early June afforded every opportunity. The first diminution their party suffered was in the departure of Georgiana for London, which occurred on the seventeenth of the month. The visit had long been talked of, and Georgiana really looked forward with no little pleasure to seeing her old friends, for Caroline Bingley and Louisa took pains not to show to her, of whom they were exceedingly fond, the cold-hearted and worldly aspect of their dispositions; but when she found herself actually in the travelling carriage with Bingley, with her maid seated opposite, she felt, as she did every year, the sensation of leaving all that she cared for behind her, and of entering scenes alarming because unfamiliar. Bingley good-naturedly endeavoured to divert her in every way, talked of the pleasures awaiting her, and of the friends she would see in London, Kitty Bennet and Mrs. Annesley, besides her hostesses, and casually mentioned the possibility of her coming across Colonel Fitzwilliam. Georgiana had been prepared for this by Elizabeth, and had first shrunk from the idea; but afterwards became reconciled to the view put before her, that the first meeting, which must necessarily be painful, must come some time, and it would be best to get it over in a crowd, with a few ordinary words of greeting, which would put them on a comfortable footing for the future. She, therefore, made an effort to reply cheerfully to all Bingley's suggestions, and had not found the journey tedious when they drew up in Grosvenor Street in time for dinner on the third day. Caroline and Louisa could not make enough of her, and the evening was spent in talking over the plans they had formed for her amusement, and in detailing the engagements they had entered into. It soon appeared that the ball which Bingley had mentioned was on their list; for they were also acquainted with Mrs. George Knightley, whose entertainment it was, and had secured invitations from her for their brother and their young friend. Bingley inquired of the date of the ball, explaining how it affected his movements; and his sisters endeavoured to conceal their surprise on hearing that Miss Kitty Bennet was staying with the Knightleys. "I thought, when you spoke of coming to fetch her, Charles, that she was with her uncle and aunt in Gracechurch Street," said Miss Bingley. "To tell the truth, I was not very clear about it myself," returned Bingley. "Jane told me that she was going to stay over this ball, but whether she was with the Gardiners or the Knightleys I did not make out until just before we came away. It does not make a vast deal of difference, to my thinking." "There is certainly some difference; the Knightleys live in Portland Square, for one thing," replied Miss Bingley. "Do they? I am glad of that, for it means I shall not have to drive so far round to pick Kitty up," was Bingley's cheerful answer, and he moved away to speak to Mr. Hurst, leaving his sisters to their speculations as to how Miss Bennet could have come to know the George Knightleys. Georgiana did not know, but conjectured it was through Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner; and the ladies, though they refrained from showing their perplexity, were even more puzzled to account for the uncle who lived in Cheapside being acquainted with such people of fashion. "Have you seen anything of Fitzwilliam, Louisa?" inquired Bingley of his eldest sister, when he came to have his coffee-cup refilled. "Really, Charles, what a foolish question to ask," replied Mrs. Hurst, with affected carelessness. "Of course we see him frequently when he is in town." "Very good; I hope he will come round while I am here, and, if not, I shall get you to give me his direction, for I must certainly look him up before I go back." Mrs. Hurst made a vague answer, for both she and her sister were sincerely anxious to spare Georgiana any embarrassment, and they would not of their own accord have referred to Fitzwilliam until they knew how she was able to bear the mention of his name in public. Caroline immediately began speaking of another subject, but Georgiana, divining their intentions, felt that she must not indulge in a foolish sensibility which might give her friends a false impression of the state of things; so, summoning all her courage, she said, with a deep blush but a tolerably firm voice: "Yes, I hope my cousin may be in town this month. Elizabeth and my brother gave me many messages for him, if I should see him." She was conscious that the ladies were looking at her in surprise, but that Bingley noticed nothing but the amount of milk Louisa was putting in his coffee was a great help, and Caroline, the next moment, said quietly: "Oh, yes, no doubt he will call," which made it unnecessary for Georgiana to say any more. Bingley, having secured his cup, next produced a notebook and proceeded to write down the address of Fitzwilliam's lodgings and the name of his club, and, as an afterthought, the various engagements to which he had been pledged by his sisters. Georgiana found that Mrs. Hurst and Caroline were anxious she should go with them on the following day to call in Portman Square and meet Mrs. George Knightley. Mrs. Knightley, formerly Emma Woodhouse, had, since her marriage, been able to enjoy a larger measure of the social power and influence in the use of which she had always delighted. Since Mr. Woodhouse's death she had persuaded her husband to go into Parliament, and except for short visits to Donwell, they now lived entirely in London--an arrangement which just suited Emma, who had long desired some stir and variety in her life, after having spent so many unbroken years in a country village. Mr. Knightley still took the greatest interest in the farming of his property, and as soon as he was trustee to his sister-in-law, Mrs. John Knightley, for the estate of Hartfield, which had passed to her on her father's death, he found as much to do out of London as in it; while Emma, though fond of Donwell, had grown weary of the neighbourhood, and took a keen pleasure in forming round her in London a large circle of acquaintances, whom she loved to entertain, and in whose characters and careers she took the deepest interest. Mrs. Knightley's ball had become an annual fixture in the month of June, and this year she had a special incentive for giving it and for making it as gay as possible. At her sister's house she had met Mrs. Gardiner, whose husband had long been a close friend in business of Mr. John Knightley. Mrs. Gardiner was chaperoning a niece, Miss Catherine Bennet, a slender, blooming young girl, and pretty without being very striking; but Mrs. Knightley was impressed with her pleasing manners, and the enthusiasm with which she received the prospect of a theatre party which was being discussed on that occasion. It was the work of a moment for Emma to decide that she must ask her sister to bring Miss Bennet to the ball; but during the remainder of the evening, while she considered and observed, an improvement on the first idea suggested itself; Miss Bennet must be invited to stay in Portman Square for the great occasion. What better arrangement could there be? Isabella would not want to stay late, but young girls liked to dance till the last moment, and she, Emma, would have the benefit of Miss Bennet's help in the preparations, and would be able to introduce her to her partners beforehand. Yes, Miss Bennet was certainly very pretty, prettier than she had appeared at first--such a slim, upright figure, such a profusion of hair, such a delicate fairness of complexion; she would be a great success! It would be as delightful as when last year, the girl who was at the ball as Mrs. Knightley's special friend and prot g e had finished the evening triumphantly becoming engaged to the most eligible man present, Sir William Manvers. Emma felt a thrill at the recollection. The event had justified all her admiration for Sophia Lennox, and Mr. Knightley, who had been so sceptical, had been obliged to admit that sometimes people did marry those whom one had destined for them. There was no Sir William Manvers this year, it was true; but Miss Bennet was still young, and there was plenty of time for the right man to appear. In fact, it was really only her due that she should be properly taken out in London, in order that she might have every chance, and this her aunt, Mrs. Gardiner, was quite evidently not able to give her. What wonder that the upshot of these reflections was a courteous note to Mrs. Gardiner, begging for the pleasure of a visit from Miss Bennet as soon as her stay in Gracechurch Street should be concluded. Kitty was in transports of happiness when all was arranged and she found herself actually Mrs. George Knightley's guest, with a ball in prospect, and each day one round of visits and shopping and other delights, with intervals only long enough to admit of changing one elegant gown for another, for her mother and sisters had taken care she should be provided with an ample wardrobe. She soon ceased to regret not having been allowed to accompany Lydia to the West Indies, and before many days were over had discovered a reason to rejoice that she had not gone. Among Mrs. Knightley's frequent visitors at this time was a young naval lieutenant named William Price, whom she had met a short time previously at the house of the same Mr. Yates who had paid a visit to Bath in the preceding spring. Mr. Yates lived in Cavendish Square, and as his wife was a first cousin of William Price's, they had begged the young man to make their house his home whenever he happened to be in London. Young Price had lately been attached to a ship of the line, the _Andromeda_, which he had been obliged to put into Portsmouth for repairs, and he had been employing some of the period of his enforced leisure in taking up a course of signalling and gunnery, as he was extremely anxious to gain promotion as speedily as possible; but he had found that it was necessary to use other means than those of mere hard work, and at the present time he was living in London, keeping in touch with the Admiralty and endeavouring to recommend himself to every high official and person of influence with whom he could contrive to become acquainted. In the intervals he paid hasty visits to his sisters, who were settled in Northamptonshire, and to his mother at Portsmouth; and being a young man of excellent address, great charm of manner and marked abilities, he had gained a deserved popularity, and could not help enjoying the gaiety of London life, available to him through the hospitality of numerous friends. Mrs. Knightley was extremely pleased with him, and with his next brother, David, who was a clerk in the India Office, and both young men found it a very agreeable house to come to, especially when to the welcome of their hostess was added that of a pretty girl who, warm-hearted and impulsive, did not attempt to conceal her pleasure in their company. David Price was two or three years her junior, and in him Kitty Bennet found only a merry and boyish companion; but the manliness of the young sailor aroused different feelings, and it was not long before she realized that the visits of William Price were becoming the most important thing in her life. She dreamt of him before he came, she had no eyes for anyone else when he was present, and she treasured his words when he had gone; and although she could not honestly read into those words more than a passing friendliness, yet she allowed herself to cherish hopes that each _next_ time there might be something warmer. Poor Kitty had secretly longed to be married ever since she was sixteen; and now at last it seemed as if Destiny itself was working for her, in placing her with so kind a hostess, who was always giving invitations and affording opportunities, and in sending her such a splendid hero of romance to fall in love with, for a hero he was, of a campaign at sea, when he had distinguished himself as much by bravery as he had on shore by industry; a hero with good looks, an assured position, and prize-money saved, and at the present moment with nothing particular to do but fall in love with Miss Kitty Bennet! It was impossible not to feel, under the circumstances, that the course of events was plainly marked out. Mrs. Knightley certainly thought so too, and although she refrained from definite statements, her sympathetic attitude encouraged Kitty to talk herself into hope and self-confidence. The importance of the ball itself in the great scheme of things was not overlooked, and Emma even dreamt now of a brilliant d nouement like last year's. She had invited a large number of people, and was anxious to have as many dancing couples as possible, so Mrs. Hurst's request for permission to bring her brother and Miss Darcy was warmly acceded to, and it was only a matter of regret that their friend Colonel Fitzwilliam could not be induced to go to any balls this season. Kitty was delighted at the prospect of meeting Georgiana again, and when the call spoken of by Mrs. Hurst was being paid, on the day following Georgiana's arrival, she availed herself of a pause in the conversation, and a nod and a smile from Mrs. Knightley, to ask her friend to come to another room for a few moments, on the plea of showing her some new possessions. Georgiana duly admired the bonnets and pelisses, and the gold chain which was Mrs. Knightley's present, and the rose-coloured ball dress which was to make its first appearance on the much-talked-of occasion. Kitty's head was evidently full of this event; she dwelt on it constantly, and from her quick nervous manner Georgiana guessed at some kind of special preoccupation with the subject. "And so you are very happy here, Kitty? Perhaps I need not ask that," she said, as Kitty turned to unfold another new muslin gown. "Oh, very, very happy, perfectly happy," exclaimed Kitty with eagerness. "Mrs. Knightley is so kind, and such nice people come here, you have no idea, Georgiana. Now, do look; is not that beautiful? A real India muslin, and the colour just suits me. You ought to like it, for I bought it with some money Elizabeth gave me." "Yes, dear, I do like it, of course," returned Georgiana; "but tell me some more about yourself. How long were you with the Gardiners?" "I forget just how long, but I came here on the first of June. Oh, I do not know how ever I shall be able to leave! Georgiana, I must tell you! I have been longing to do so, and yet I do not know how I can, after all, for it has not really happened yet. "Of course you have guessed," she went on, in answer to Georgiana's affectionately inquiring glance; "it can only be one thing: but pray do not mention it to anyone, for no one has any idea of it except Mrs. Knightley. It is so wonderful! Georgiana, do you believe in love at first sight?" "I have never thought about it," answered Georgiana honestly, "but I should think it might be possible." "Indeed, indeed, it is possible! It does happen. When you see him, you will know how easily. You will see him on Tuesday night; I do wonder what you will think of him. You must be sure to tell me quite truthfully." "Dear Kitty, you cannot think how glad I am. You mean you are engaged, or just about to be?" "Oh, no, no, no!" exclaimed Kitty, "you do not understand. I think--I hope--but I do not even know if he cares. Sometimes I feel sure he does, and then, again, he seems to be perfectly indifferent, and it is so terrible then, more terrible than you can imagine. But you will see--you will judge for yourself; I shall depend so much upon you for comfort and counsel, especially if Bingley asks him to come down and stay at Desborough, as I mean to persuade him to do." Georgiana was not much enlightened, and her shyness and natural reserve made her hesitate to ask questions on such a subject, which, had she been Kitty, she could not have mentioned to any living creature. But Kitty was evidently longing for sympathy, and poured out her hopes and fears and her reasons for both, mingling with them a description of William Price, painted in the most vivid colours and emphasizing his courage and distinction as an officer, his amiability as a man, his perfection as a ball-room partner, and the high opinion Mr. Knightley and all sensible men had formed of him. Georgiana listened, and was interested almost against her will; she had known Kitty to take fancies several times before for persons who had not returned her regard or thought of doing so; but in this case, from what she could gather, the young man seemed really to deserve Kitty's enthusiasm; they had met under Mrs. Knightley's auspices, he had been very often at the house, and certainly, everything considered, it was much more likely that he should fall in love with Kitty than not. Nevertheless, she hardly knew how to answer her; to encourage her in hopes which might prove false would be the cruellest kindness, so, while, murmuring her wishes for her friend's happiness, she agreed that she must wait for the evening of the ball before she could really tell how far Kitty's dreams were likely to be realized. They talked so long that eventually she had to propose a return to the drawing-room, fearing to be guilty of discourtesy towards Mrs. Knightley; but she was glad that only a moment was left for Kitty's hurried inquiry about her own affairs, as they hastened down the staircase, and that she could therefore dismiss the subject with a light word. Kitty was scarcely satisfied, but finding that Georgiana could not be induced to speak of Colonel Fitzwilliam, returned to her own all-absorbing topic with the remark, "I do wish you could meet someone just like my dear Mr. Price!" Chapter IX The next few days passed rapidly for both girls, and were so full of engagements that they were not able to arrange another meeting, and Georgiana deeply regretted the fact that, except for a glimpse of her at the ball, she should not see Kitty again before Bingley's departure from town. She could only hope that all would go well, and looked forward to a fuller intercourse in Derbyshire in a few weeks' time. Meanwhile, there were many friends to see, and Georgiana would have enjoyed herself thoroughly had she not dreaded the first meeting with Colonel Fitzwilliam, which she felt hanging over her, since Bingley had called on the Colonel and reported him to be in town, but which she did not know when to expect. A slight change in her plans, necessitating a short absence from Mr. Hurst's house, led her to imagine that it would be temporarily averted; but on the very day of the ball, when she and her hostesses had remained at home, and a larger number of visitors than usual happened to be in the room, she experienced a painful shock on hearing his name announced and on seeing him walk into the room. Next moment she was angry with herself for losing her composure, even momentarily, and bracing herself for a possible encounter, she endeavoured to continue to bear her part in a conversation with two or three of Mrs. Hurst's friends, who, she realized gratefully, were strangers to her until that day. It was some minutes afterwards that she was aware of Colonel Fitzwilliam approaching her, guided by Miss Bingley, whose kindly intentions of making the occasion as ordinary as possible only served to intensify its discomfort. Georgiana, however, thought the fault all hers, as, not reassured at all by Caroline's cheerful "Colonel Fitzwilliam was so glad to hear you were staying with us, Georgiana," she found herself only just able to give him her hand with an almost inaudible greeting, while her face, suffused with deepest blushes, must, she felt, have made her noticeable to all around. It was Colonel Fitzwilliam's part to set her at her ease, which he did, to some extent with a few kindly and naturally-expressed sentences, inquiring about her journey, and the health of those she had left behind. Georgiana presently ventured to let her eyes rest on him, and was startled to see how much older he looked even in the short time since she'd seen him, and how ill and worn. A terror seized her heart that she might be guilty of these altered looks, but it passed in an instant; there was not any doubt that their parting had been for the good of both; but poor Cousin Robert, it was plain to see that he had been suffering, from whatever cause, and her sympathy went out to him unconsciously, even while she could hardly talk to him from embarrassment of knowing that Caroline Bingley was standing by, apparently occupied with other people, but drawing conclusions from every word she could hear. "I had intended coming to see you, anyhow, Georgiana," said Fitzwilliam, "but I am very busy, you know--I do not go out much; and you live in a perpetual whirl of gaiety, I expect." He smiled as he spoke, and Georgiana tried to answer in the same spirit, telling him that they had a good many plans, and people were very kind, but she was not really in a whirl, in fact, the very next morning she was leaving for Grosvenor Street for a few days, to spend them quietly with her old friend Mrs. Annesley, who lived in Hans Place, quite away from the bustle of London. "Mrs. Annesley?" repeated Fitzwilliam; "of course I remember her; she will enjoy having you, but how have Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley become reconciled to parting with you even for a week?" Georgiana explained hurriedly that it had been quite a sudden engagement; her old friend had been to see her, and had begged for a short visit from her, if possible, for Mrs. Annesley was on the point of going to India, to live with a married son who had lost his wife, and she might not have the opportunity of seeing her former pupil again for many years. Georgiana had been happy in the opportunity of going to her friend at such a time; her present hostesses had acquiesced, and a week was to be spared to Mrs. Annesley. "But it will be made up in Grosvenor Street next month, I assume," said Colonel Fitzwilliam. "I hardly know--I believe Elizabeth and my brother want me at home again soon--but of course I like being here too," said Georgiana, stumbling over her words, and feeling that she was disgracing herself. If only Caroline would not stand there and seem to be observing them so closely! She did not believe it would be so distressing to talk to Cousin Robert if only they could be together somewhere among strangers. This thought impelled her to ask him, quite at random, for she had every reason to know what his reply would be, whether he was going to Mrs. Knightley's ball. "I am afraid not, Georgiana. I think I am getting too old for balls; but I wish you a great deal of pleasure there." "Oh, Cousin Robert, you are not too old, but you--" she checked herself in this impetuous speech, and ended rather confusedly, "but you look tired"; which was not what she would have wished to say. Her cousin glanced kindly at her, but turned her remark off with a laugh; and as he seemed about to move away, Georgiana, in desperation, and astonished at herself, said timidly: "I hope we may meet again, even though you do not go to balls." "I hope so, too, Georgiana. But of course we shall. I must come some morning and take you all to Kensington Gardens." Georgiana felt that this would not be a great improvement on the present situation, but she could not say any more, and supposed their conversation was at an end, when Fitzwilliam, who had made a step from her, seemed struck with a sudden idea, and turned to her again, saying: "May I come and call on you at Mrs. Annesley's? She will perhaps remember me and--I may not be in town later on." Georgiana flushed with surprise and pleasure, and her eager assent left Fitzwilliam in no doubt as to his reception. He stayed only to assure himself of the number of Mrs. Annesley's house, then bowed and walked rapidly away, as Miss Bingley approached with the evident intention of breaking up their conclave. Georgiana had to submit to a certain amount of comment from the sisters, who, while condoling with her for having had to pass through a uncomfortable few minutes, appeared surprised that she should have been able to talk to Colonel Fitzwilliam, but she herself felt nothing but happiness in having met her cousin again, and found it possible to think of being on those terms with him that Elizabeth had predicted. She spent a part of the afternoon in writing a long letter to her sister, telling her what had happened; but she did not like to send an account of her cousin that might alarm them at home, so she contented herself with saying that he was not looking at all well, and that she wished Elizabeth would persuade him to go down to Pemberley, as he must be working too hard in London. She concluded her writing with the words, "I will leave this open till to-morrow, dear Elizabeth, that I may tell you about the ball, and how Kitty looked." Kitty, indeed, was the chief subject of her thoughts when they dwelt upon the prospect of the evening, and when the time for dressing arrived Kitty's rose-coloured silk occupied her mind far more than her own white satin and pearls. When Mr. and Mrs. Hurst's party entered the ante-room where Mrs. Knightley was receiving her guests, the two girls managed to exchange a few words, and Georgiana gathered that the hero of the evening had not yet appeared, but Kitty was separated from her by the crowd of arrivals, and so it eventually came about that it was their hostess who performed the introduction of Mr. William Price to Miss Darcy. Georgiana's first thought, when she looked at the noble brow and clear blue eye of the young man, was that Kitty's attachment was easily understood, and each moment that she spent in his company strengthened that assurance. She was desirous of liking him, eager to find everything to praise in the admired--and perhaps the admirer--of her friend, and the opportunity came at once in the infectious gaiety and good spirits of the young man and the unaffected warmth of his manner. He asked her for the honour of her hand in several dances; but the first two, she noticed, he danced with Kitty, and from the sparkle in Kitty's eye, and her quick movement as he approached to claim them, Georgiana conjectured that the engagement had been made previously. When Georgiana's turn came, among the excellencies that she discovered in her partner was that of being a perfect dancer; and, moreover, one who moved through the set as if he enjoyed every step. Somewhat shyly she commented on this. "Yes, indeed, Miss Darcy, I am fond of dancing; I began very early, when I was such a small person that you probably wouldn't have seen me in a room, much less have danced with me. We all used to jump about as children, I believe; and on board ship one somehow managed to learn, so as to be ready for the balls." "Were there balls so often?" asked Georgiana. "Yes; wherever we were stationed somebody always seized the opportunity to give a ball, either a private person, or the Governor, or the regiment, or someone. There seems to be a connection established in people's minds between naval men and dancing; anyhow, as soon as there were a few days' quiet, someone would produce musicians and a waxed floor, and we were expected to go and perform. So I decided that I had better like it." "You are a very fortunate person to be able to be able to like

month

How many times the word 'month' appears in the text?

Brandon's death, that there had not been time for much intercourse between them and the Darcys, though Elizabeth had been greatly pleased with what she had seen of Mrs. Ferrars. Since the former's return from Bath, and after her experiences there of the other branch of the family, she could appreciate fully the immense superiority of the Edward Ferrars over their relations. Ferrars himself was too quiet, diffident, and reserved a man to recommend himself easily, but in his wife all recognized a woman of a rare and noble nature, distinguished alike by the sweetness of her character and by its strength. The Darcys rejoiced in the increased opportunities of meeting afforded by the presence of their guest, and various walks, drives and out-of-doors excursions were organized, for which the glorious weather of early June afforded every opportunity. The first diminution their party suffered was in the departure of Georgiana for London, which occurred on the seventeenth of the month. The visit had long been talked of, and Georgiana really looked forward with no little pleasure to seeing her old friends, for Caroline Bingley and Louisa took pains not to show to her, of whom they were exceedingly fond, the cold-hearted and worldly aspect of their dispositions; but when she found herself actually in the travelling carriage with Bingley, with her maid seated opposite, she felt, as she did every year, the sensation of leaving all that she cared for behind her, and of entering scenes alarming because unfamiliar. Bingley good-naturedly endeavoured to divert her in every way, talked of the pleasures awaiting her, and of the friends she would see in London, Kitty Bennet and Mrs. Annesley, besides her hostesses, and casually mentioned the possibility of her coming across Colonel Fitzwilliam. Georgiana had been prepared for this by Elizabeth, and had first shrunk from the idea; but afterwards became reconciled to the view put before her, that the first meeting, which must necessarily be painful, must come some time, and it would be best to get it over in a crowd, with a few ordinary words of greeting, which would put them on a comfortable footing for the future. She, therefore, made an effort to reply cheerfully to all Bingley's suggestions, and had not found the journey tedious when they drew up in Grosvenor Street in time for dinner on the third day. Caroline and Louisa could not make enough of her, and the evening was spent in talking over the plans they had formed for her amusement, and in detailing the engagements they had entered into. It soon appeared that the ball which Bingley had mentioned was on their list; for they were also acquainted with Mrs. George Knightley, whose entertainment it was, and had secured invitations from her for their brother and their young friend. Bingley inquired of the date of the ball, explaining how it affected his movements; and his sisters endeavoured to conceal their surprise on hearing that Miss Kitty Bennet was staying with the Knightleys. "I thought, when you spoke of coming to fetch her, Charles, that she was with her uncle and aunt in Gracechurch Street," said Miss Bingley. "To tell the truth, I was not very clear about it myself," returned Bingley. "Jane told me that she was going to stay over this ball, but whether she was with the Gardiners or the Knightleys I did not make out until just before we came away. It does not make a vast deal of difference, to my thinking." "There is certainly some difference; the Knightleys live in Portland Square, for one thing," replied Miss Bingley. "Do they? I am glad of that, for it means I shall not have to drive so far round to pick Kitty up," was Bingley's cheerful answer, and he moved away to speak to Mr. Hurst, leaving his sisters to their speculations as to how Miss Bennet could have come to know the George Knightleys. Georgiana did not know, but conjectured it was through Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner; and the ladies, though they refrained from showing their perplexity, were even more puzzled to account for the uncle who lived in Cheapside being acquainted with such people of fashion. "Have you seen anything of Fitzwilliam, Louisa?" inquired Bingley of his eldest sister, when he came to have his coffee-cup refilled. "Really, Charles, what a foolish question to ask," replied Mrs. Hurst, with affected carelessness. "Of course we see him frequently when he is in town." "Very good; I hope he will come round while I am here, and, if not, I shall get you to give me his direction, for I must certainly look him up before I go back." Mrs. Hurst made a vague answer, for both she and her sister were sincerely anxious to spare Georgiana any embarrassment, and they would not of their own accord have referred to Fitzwilliam until they knew how she was able to bear the mention of his name in public. Caroline immediately began speaking of another subject, but Georgiana, divining their intentions, felt that she must not indulge in a foolish sensibility which might give her friends a false impression of the state of things; so, summoning all her courage, she said, with a deep blush but a tolerably firm voice: "Yes, I hope my cousin may be in town this month. Elizabeth and my brother gave me many messages for him, if I should see him." She was conscious that the ladies were looking at her in surprise, but that Bingley noticed nothing but the amount of milk Louisa was putting in his coffee was a great help, and Caroline, the next moment, said quietly: "Oh, yes, no doubt he will call," which made it unnecessary for Georgiana to say any more. Bingley, having secured his cup, next produced a notebook and proceeded to write down the address of Fitzwilliam's lodgings and the name of his club, and, as an afterthought, the various engagements to which he had been pledged by his sisters. Georgiana found that Mrs. Hurst and Caroline were anxious she should go with them on the following day to call in Portman Square and meet Mrs. George Knightley. Mrs. Knightley, formerly Emma Woodhouse, had, since her marriage, been able to enjoy a larger measure of the social power and influence in the use of which she had always delighted. Since Mr. Woodhouse's death she had persuaded her husband to go into Parliament, and except for short visits to Donwell, they now lived entirely in London--an arrangement which just suited Emma, who had long desired some stir and variety in her life, after having spent so many unbroken years in a country village. Mr. Knightley still took the greatest interest in the farming of his property, and as soon as he was trustee to his sister-in-law, Mrs. John Knightley, for the estate of Hartfield, which had passed to her on her father's death, he found as much to do out of London as in it; while Emma, though fond of Donwell, had grown weary of the neighbourhood, and took a keen pleasure in forming round her in London a large circle of acquaintances, whom she loved to entertain, and in whose characters and careers she took the deepest interest. Mrs. Knightley's ball had become an annual fixture in the month of June, and this year she had a special incentive for giving it and for making it as gay as possible. At her sister's house she had met Mrs. Gardiner, whose husband had long been a close friend in business of Mr. John Knightley. Mrs. Gardiner was chaperoning a niece, Miss Catherine Bennet, a slender, blooming young girl, and pretty without being very striking; but Mrs. Knightley was impressed with her pleasing manners, and the enthusiasm with which she received the prospect of a theatre party which was being discussed on that occasion. It was the work of a moment for Emma to decide that she must ask her sister to bring Miss Bennet to the ball; but during the remainder of the evening, while she considered and observed, an improvement on the first idea suggested itself; Miss Bennet must be invited to stay in Portman Square for the great occasion. What better arrangement could there be? Isabella would not want to stay late, but young girls liked to dance till the last moment, and she, Emma, would have the benefit of Miss Bennet's help in the preparations, and would be able to introduce her to her partners beforehand. Yes, Miss Bennet was certainly very pretty, prettier than she had appeared at first--such a slim, upright figure, such a profusion of hair, such a delicate fairness of complexion; she would be a great success! It would be as delightful as when last year, the girl who was at the ball as Mrs. Knightley's special friend and prot g e had finished the evening triumphantly becoming engaged to the most eligible man present, Sir William Manvers. Emma felt a thrill at the recollection. The event had justified all her admiration for Sophia Lennox, and Mr. Knightley, who had been so sceptical, had been obliged to admit that sometimes people did marry those whom one had destined for them. There was no Sir William Manvers this year, it was true; but Miss Bennet was still young, and there was plenty of time for the right man to appear. In fact, it was really only her due that she should be properly taken out in London, in order that she might have every chance, and this her aunt, Mrs. Gardiner, was quite evidently not able to give her. What wonder that the upshot of these reflections was a courteous note to Mrs. Gardiner, begging for the pleasure of a visit from Miss Bennet as soon as her stay in Gracechurch Street should be concluded. Kitty was in transports of happiness when all was arranged and she found herself actually Mrs. George Knightley's guest, with a ball in prospect, and each day one round of visits and shopping and other delights, with intervals only long enough to admit of changing one elegant gown for another, for her mother and sisters had taken care she should be provided with an ample wardrobe. She soon ceased to regret not having been allowed to accompany Lydia to the West Indies, and before many days were over had discovered a reason to rejoice that she had not gone. Among Mrs. Knightley's frequent visitors at this time was a young naval lieutenant named William Price, whom she had met a short time previously at the house of the same Mr. Yates who had paid a visit to Bath in the preceding spring. Mr. Yates lived in Cavendish Square, and as his wife was a first cousin of William Price's, they had begged the young man to make their house his home whenever he happened to be in London. Young Price had lately been attached to a ship of the line, the _Andromeda_, which he had been obliged to put into Portsmouth for repairs, and he had been employing some of the period of his enforced leisure in taking up a course of signalling and gunnery, as he was extremely anxious to gain promotion as speedily as possible; but he had found that it was necessary to use other means than those of mere hard work, and at the present time he was living in London, keeping in touch with the Admiralty and endeavouring to recommend himself to every high official and person of influence with whom he could contrive to become acquainted. In the intervals he paid hasty visits to his sisters, who were settled in Northamptonshire, and to his mother at Portsmouth; and being a young man of excellent address, great charm of manner and marked abilities, he had gained a deserved popularity, and could not help enjoying the gaiety of London life, available to him through the hospitality of numerous friends. Mrs. Knightley was extremely pleased with him, and with his next brother, David, who was a clerk in the India Office, and both young men found it a very agreeable house to come to, especially when to the welcome of their hostess was added that of a pretty girl who, warm-hearted and impulsive, did not attempt to conceal her pleasure in their company. David Price was two or three years her junior, and in him Kitty Bennet found only a merry and boyish companion; but the manliness of the young sailor aroused different feelings, and it was not long before she realized that the visits of William Price were becoming the most important thing in her life. She dreamt of him before he came, she had no eyes for anyone else when he was present, and she treasured his words when he had gone; and although she could not honestly read into those words more than a passing friendliness, yet she allowed herself to cherish hopes that each _next_ time there might be something warmer. Poor Kitty had secretly longed to be married ever since she was sixteen; and now at last it seemed as if Destiny itself was working for her, in placing her with so kind a hostess, who was always giving invitations and affording opportunities, and in sending her such a splendid hero of romance to fall in love with, for a hero he was, of a campaign at sea, when he had distinguished himself as much by bravery as he had on shore by industry; a hero with good looks, an assured position, and prize-money saved, and at the present moment with nothing particular to do but fall in love with Miss Kitty Bennet! It was impossible not to feel, under the circumstances, that the course of events was plainly marked out. Mrs. Knightley certainly thought so too, and although she refrained from definite statements, her sympathetic attitude encouraged Kitty to talk herself into hope and self-confidence. The importance of the ball itself in the great scheme of things was not overlooked, and Emma even dreamt now of a brilliant d nouement like last year's. She had invited a large number of people, and was anxious to have as many dancing couples as possible, so Mrs. Hurst's request for permission to bring her brother and Miss Darcy was warmly acceded to, and it was only a matter of regret that their friend Colonel Fitzwilliam could not be induced to go to any balls this season. Kitty was delighted at the prospect of meeting Georgiana again, and when the call spoken of by Mrs. Hurst was being paid, on the day following Georgiana's arrival, she availed herself of a pause in the conversation, and a nod and a smile from Mrs. Knightley, to ask her friend to come to another room for a few moments, on the plea of showing her some new possessions. Georgiana duly admired the bonnets and pelisses, and the gold chain which was Mrs. Knightley's present, and the rose-coloured ball dress which was to make its first appearance on the much-talked-of occasion. Kitty's head was evidently full of this event; she dwelt on it constantly, and from her quick nervous manner Georgiana guessed at some kind of special preoccupation with the subject. "And so you are very happy here, Kitty? Perhaps I need not ask that," she said, as Kitty turned to unfold another new muslin gown. "Oh, very, very happy, perfectly happy," exclaimed Kitty with eagerness. "Mrs. Knightley is so kind, and such nice people come here, you have no idea, Georgiana. Now, do look; is not that beautiful? A real India muslin, and the colour just suits me. You ought to like it, for I bought it with some money Elizabeth gave me." "Yes, dear, I do like it, of course," returned Georgiana; "but tell me some more about yourself. How long were you with the Gardiners?" "I forget just how long, but I came here on the first of June. Oh, I do not know how ever I shall be able to leave! Georgiana, I must tell you! I have been longing to do so, and yet I do not know how I can, after all, for it has not really happened yet. "Of course you have guessed," she went on, in answer to Georgiana's affectionately inquiring glance; "it can only be one thing: but pray do not mention it to anyone, for no one has any idea of it except Mrs. Knightley. It is so wonderful! Georgiana, do you believe in love at first sight?" "I have never thought about it," answered Georgiana honestly, "but I should think it might be possible." "Indeed, indeed, it is possible! It does happen. When you see him, you will know how easily. You will see him on Tuesday night; I do wonder what you will think of him. You must be sure to tell me quite truthfully." "Dear Kitty, you cannot think how glad I am. You mean you are engaged, or just about to be?" "Oh, no, no, no!" exclaimed Kitty, "you do not understand. I think--I hope--but I do not even know if he cares. Sometimes I feel sure he does, and then, again, he seems to be perfectly indifferent, and it is so terrible then, more terrible than you can imagine. But you will see--you will judge for yourself; I shall depend so much upon you for comfort and counsel, especially if Bingley asks him to come down and stay at Desborough, as I mean to persuade him to do." Georgiana was not much enlightened, and her shyness and natural reserve made her hesitate to ask questions on such a subject, which, had she been Kitty, she could not have mentioned to any living creature. But Kitty was evidently longing for sympathy, and poured out her hopes and fears and her reasons for both, mingling with them a description of William Price, painted in the most vivid colours and emphasizing his courage and distinction as an officer, his amiability as a man, his perfection as a ball-room partner, and the high opinion Mr. Knightley and all sensible men had formed of him. Georgiana listened, and was interested almost against her will; she had known Kitty to take fancies several times before for persons who had not returned her regard or thought of doing so; but in this case, from what she could gather, the young man seemed really to deserve Kitty's enthusiasm; they had met under Mrs. Knightley's auspices, he had been very often at the house, and certainly, everything considered, it was much more likely that he should fall in love with Kitty than not. Nevertheless, she hardly knew how to answer her; to encourage her in hopes which might prove false would be the cruellest kindness, so, while, murmuring her wishes for her friend's happiness, she agreed that she must wait for the evening of the ball before she could really tell how far Kitty's dreams were likely to be realized. They talked so long that eventually she had to propose a return to the drawing-room, fearing to be guilty of discourtesy towards Mrs. Knightley; but she was glad that only a moment was left for Kitty's hurried inquiry about her own affairs, as they hastened down the staircase, and that she could therefore dismiss the subject with a light word. Kitty was scarcely satisfied, but finding that Georgiana could not be induced to speak of Colonel Fitzwilliam, returned to her own all-absorbing topic with the remark, "I do wish you could meet someone just like my dear Mr. Price!" Chapter IX The next few days passed rapidly for both girls, and were so full of engagements that they were not able to arrange another meeting, and Georgiana deeply regretted the fact that, except for a glimpse of her at the ball, she should not see Kitty again before Bingley's departure from town. She could only hope that all would go well, and looked forward to a fuller intercourse in Derbyshire in a few weeks' time. Meanwhile, there were many friends to see, and Georgiana would have enjoyed herself thoroughly had she not dreaded the first meeting with Colonel Fitzwilliam, which she felt hanging over her, since Bingley had called on the Colonel and reported him to be in town, but which she did not know when to expect. A slight change in her plans, necessitating a short absence from Mr. Hurst's house, led her to imagine that it would be temporarily averted; but on the very day of the ball, when she and her hostesses had remained at home, and a larger number of visitors than usual happened to be in the room, she experienced a painful shock on hearing his name announced and on seeing him walk into the room. Next moment she was angry with herself for losing her composure, even momentarily, and bracing herself for a possible encounter, she endeavoured to continue to bear her part in a conversation with two or three of Mrs. Hurst's friends, who, she realized gratefully, were strangers to her until that day. It was some minutes afterwards that she was aware of Colonel Fitzwilliam approaching her, guided by Miss Bingley, whose kindly intentions of making the occasion as ordinary as possible only served to intensify its discomfort. Georgiana, however, thought the fault all hers, as, not reassured at all by Caroline's cheerful "Colonel Fitzwilliam was so glad to hear you were staying with us, Georgiana," she found herself only just able to give him her hand with an almost inaudible greeting, while her face, suffused with deepest blushes, must, she felt, have made her noticeable to all around. It was Colonel Fitzwilliam's part to set her at her ease, which he did, to some extent with a few kindly and naturally-expressed sentences, inquiring about her journey, and the health of those she had left behind. Georgiana presently ventured to let her eyes rest on him, and was startled to see how much older he looked even in the short time since she'd seen him, and how ill and worn. A terror seized her heart that she might be guilty of these altered looks, but it passed in an instant; there was not any doubt that their parting had been for the good of both; but poor Cousin Robert, it was plain to see that he had been suffering, from whatever cause, and her sympathy went out to him unconsciously, even while she could hardly talk to him from embarrassment of knowing that Caroline Bingley was standing by, apparently occupied with other people, but drawing conclusions from every word she could hear. "I had intended coming to see you, anyhow, Georgiana," said Fitzwilliam, "but I am very busy, you know--I do not go out much; and you live in a perpetual whirl of gaiety, I expect." He smiled as he spoke, and Georgiana tried to answer in the same spirit, telling him that they had a good many plans, and people were very kind, but she was not really in a whirl, in fact, the very next morning she was leaving for Grosvenor Street for a few days, to spend them quietly with her old friend Mrs. Annesley, who lived in Hans Place, quite away from the bustle of London. "Mrs. Annesley?" repeated Fitzwilliam; "of course I remember her; she will enjoy having you, but how have Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley become reconciled to parting with you even for a week?" Georgiana explained hurriedly that it had been quite a sudden engagement; her old friend had been to see her, and had begged for a short visit from her, if possible, for Mrs. Annesley was on the point of going to India, to live with a married son who had lost his wife, and she might not have the opportunity of seeing her former pupil again for many years. Georgiana had been happy in the opportunity of going to her friend at such a time; her present hostesses had acquiesced, and a week was to be spared to Mrs. Annesley. "But it will be made up in Grosvenor Street next month, I assume," said Colonel Fitzwilliam. "I hardly know--I believe Elizabeth and my brother want me at home again soon--but of course I like being here too," said Georgiana, stumbling over her words, and feeling that she was disgracing herself. If only Caroline would not stand there and seem to be observing them so closely! She did not believe it would be so distressing to talk to Cousin Robert if only they could be together somewhere among strangers. This thought impelled her to ask him, quite at random, for she had every reason to know what his reply would be, whether he was going to Mrs. Knightley's ball. "I am afraid not, Georgiana. I think I am getting too old for balls; but I wish you a great deal of pleasure there." "Oh, Cousin Robert, you are not too old, but you--" she checked herself in this impetuous speech, and ended rather confusedly, "but you look tired"; which was not what she would have wished to say. Her cousin glanced kindly at her, but turned her remark off with a laugh; and as he seemed about to move away, Georgiana, in desperation, and astonished at herself, said timidly: "I hope we may meet again, even though you do not go to balls." "I hope so, too, Georgiana. But of course we shall. I must come some morning and take you all to Kensington Gardens." Georgiana felt that this would not be a great improvement on the present situation, but she could not say any more, and supposed their conversation was at an end, when Fitzwilliam, who had made a step from her, seemed struck with a sudden idea, and turned to her again, saying: "May I come and call on you at Mrs. Annesley's? She will perhaps remember me and--I may not be in town later on." Georgiana flushed with surprise and pleasure, and her eager assent left Fitzwilliam in no doubt as to his reception. He stayed only to assure himself of the number of Mrs. Annesley's house, then bowed and walked rapidly away, as Miss Bingley approached with the evident intention of breaking up their conclave. Georgiana had to submit to a certain amount of comment from the sisters, who, while condoling with her for having had to pass through a uncomfortable few minutes, appeared surprised that she should have been able to talk to Colonel Fitzwilliam, but she herself felt nothing but happiness in having met her cousin again, and found it possible to think of being on those terms with him that Elizabeth had predicted. She spent a part of the afternoon in writing a long letter to her sister, telling her what had happened; but she did not like to send an account of her cousin that might alarm them at home, so she contented herself with saying that he was not looking at all well, and that she wished Elizabeth would persuade him to go down to Pemberley, as he must be working too hard in London. She concluded her writing with the words, "I will leave this open till to-morrow, dear Elizabeth, that I may tell you about the ball, and how Kitty looked." Kitty, indeed, was the chief subject of her thoughts when they dwelt upon the prospect of the evening, and when the time for dressing arrived Kitty's rose-coloured silk occupied her mind far more than her own white satin and pearls. When Mr. and Mrs. Hurst's party entered the ante-room where Mrs. Knightley was receiving her guests, the two girls managed to exchange a few words, and Georgiana gathered that the hero of the evening had not yet appeared, but Kitty was separated from her by the crowd of arrivals, and so it eventually came about that it was their hostess who performed the introduction of Mr. William Price to Miss Darcy. Georgiana's first thought, when she looked at the noble brow and clear blue eye of the young man, was that Kitty's attachment was easily understood, and each moment that she spent in his company strengthened that assurance. She was desirous of liking him, eager to find everything to praise in the admired--and perhaps the admirer--of her friend, and the opportunity came at once in the infectious gaiety and good spirits of the young man and the unaffected warmth of his manner. He asked her for the honour of her hand in several dances; but the first two, she noticed, he danced with Kitty, and from the sparkle in Kitty's eye, and her quick movement as he approached to claim them, Georgiana conjectured that the engagement had been made previously. When Georgiana's turn came, among the excellencies that she discovered in her partner was that of being a perfect dancer; and, moreover, one who moved through the set as if he enjoyed every step. Somewhat shyly she commented on this. "Yes, indeed, Miss Darcy, I am fond of dancing; I began very early, when I was such a small person that you probably wouldn't have seen me in a room, much less have danced with me. We all used to jump about as children, I believe; and on board ship one somehow managed to learn, so as to be ready for the balls." "Were there balls so often?" asked Georgiana. "Yes; wherever we were stationed somebody always seized the opportunity to give a ball, either a private person, or the Governor, or the regiment, or someone. There seems to be a connection established in people's minds between naval men and dancing; anyhow, as soon as there were a few days' quiet, someone would produce musicians and a waxed floor, and we were expected to go and perform. So I decided that I had better like it." "You are a very fortunate person to be able to be able to like

this

How many times the word 'this' appears in the text?

Brandon's death, that there had not been time for much intercourse between them and the Darcys, though Elizabeth had been greatly pleased with what she had seen of Mrs. Ferrars. Since the former's return from Bath, and after her experiences there of the other branch of the family, she could appreciate fully the immense superiority of the Edward Ferrars over their relations. Ferrars himself was too quiet, diffident, and reserved a man to recommend himself easily, but in his wife all recognized a woman of a rare and noble nature, distinguished alike by the sweetness of her character and by its strength. The Darcys rejoiced in the increased opportunities of meeting afforded by the presence of their guest, and various walks, drives and out-of-doors excursions were organized, for which the glorious weather of early June afforded every opportunity. The first diminution their party suffered was in the departure of Georgiana for London, which occurred on the seventeenth of the month. The visit had long been talked of, and Georgiana really looked forward with no little pleasure to seeing her old friends, for Caroline Bingley and Louisa took pains not to show to her, of whom they were exceedingly fond, the cold-hearted and worldly aspect of their dispositions; but when she found herself actually in the travelling carriage with Bingley, with her maid seated opposite, she felt, as she did every year, the sensation of leaving all that she cared for behind her, and of entering scenes alarming because unfamiliar. Bingley good-naturedly endeavoured to divert her in every way, talked of the pleasures awaiting her, and of the friends she would see in London, Kitty Bennet and Mrs. Annesley, besides her hostesses, and casually mentioned the possibility of her coming across Colonel Fitzwilliam. Georgiana had been prepared for this by Elizabeth, and had first shrunk from the idea; but afterwards became reconciled to the view put before her, that the first meeting, which must necessarily be painful, must come some time, and it would be best to get it over in a crowd, with a few ordinary words of greeting, which would put them on a comfortable footing for the future. She, therefore, made an effort to reply cheerfully to all Bingley's suggestions, and had not found the journey tedious when they drew up in Grosvenor Street in time for dinner on the third day. Caroline and Louisa could not make enough of her, and the evening was spent in talking over the plans they had formed for her amusement, and in detailing the engagements they had entered into. It soon appeared that the ball which Bingley had mentioned was on their list; for they were also acquainted with Mrs. George Knightley, whose entertainment it was, and had secured invitations from her for their brother and their young friend. Bingley inquired of the date of the ball, explaining how it affected his movements; and his sisters endeavoured to conceal their surprise on hearing that Miss Kitty Bennet was staying with the Knightleys. "I thought, when you spoke of coming to fetch her, Charles, that she was with her uncle and aunt in Gracechurch Street," said Miss Bingley. "To tell the truth, I was not very clear about it myself," returned Bingley. "Jane told me that she was going to stay over this ball, but whether she was with the Gardiners or the Knightleys I did not make out until just before we came away. It does not make a vast deal of difference, to my thinking." "There is certainly some difference; the Knightleys live in Portland Square, for one thing," replied Miss Bingley. "Do they? I am glad of that, for it means I shall not have to drive so far round to pick Kitty up," was Bingley's cheerful answer, and he moved away to speak to Mr. Hurst, leaving his sisters to their speculations as to how Miss Bennet could have come to know the George Knightleys. Georgiana did not know, but conjectured it was through Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner; and the ladies, though they refrained from showing their perplexity, were even more puzzled to account for the uncle who lived in Cheapside being acquainted with such people of fashion. "Have you seen anything of Fitzwilliam, Louisa?" inquired Bingley of his eldest sister, when he came to have his coffee-cup refilled. "Really, Charles, what a foolish question to ask," replied Mrs. Hurst, with affected carelessness. "Of course we see him frequently when he is in town." "Very good; I hope he will come round while I am here, and, if not, I shall get you to give me his direction, for I must certainly look him up before I go back." Mrs. Hurst made a vague answer, for both she and her sister were sincerely anxious to spare Georgiana any embarrassment, and they would not of their own accord have referred to Fitzwilliam until they knew how she was able to bear the mention of his name in public. Caroline immediately began speaking of another subject, but Georgiana, divining their intentions, felt that she must not indulge in a foolish sensibility which might give her friends a false impression of the state of things; so, summoning all her courage, she said, with a deep blush but a tolerably firm voice: "Yes, I hope my cousin may be in town this month. Elizabeth and my brother gave me many messages for him, if I should see him." She was conscious that the ladies were looking at her in surprise, but that Bingley noticed nothing but the amount of milk Louisa was putting in his coffee was a great help, and Caroline, the next moment, said quietly: "Oh, yes, no doubt he will call," which made it unnecessary for Georgiana to say any more. Bingley, having secured his cup, next produced a notebook and proceeded to write down the address of Fitzwilliam's lodgings and the name of his club, and, as an afterthought, the various engagements to which he had been pledged by his sisters. Georgiana found that Mrs. Hurst and Caroline were anxious she should go with them on the following day to call in Portman Square and meet Mrs. George Knightley. Mrs. Knightley, formerly Emma Woodhouse, had, since her marriage, been able to enjoy a larger measure of the social power and influence in the use of which she had always delighted. Since Mr. Woodhouse's death she had persuaded her husband to go into Parliament, and except for short visits to Donwell, they now lived entirely in London--an arrangement which just suited Emma, who had long desired some stir and variety in her life, after having spent so many unbroken years in a country village. Mr. Knightley still took the greatest interest in the farming of his property, and as soon as he was trustee to his sister-in-law, Mrs. John Knightley, for the estate of Hartfield, which had passed to her on her father's death, he found as much to do out of London as in it; while Emma, though fond of Donwell, had grown weary of the neighbourhood, and took a keen pleasure in forming round her in London a large circle of acquaintances, whom she loved to entertain, and in whose characters and careers she took the deepest interest. Mrs. Knightley's ball had become an annual fixture in the month of June, and this year she had a special incentive for giving it and for making it as gay as possible. At her sister's house she had met Mrs. Gardiner, whose husband had long been a close friend in business of Mr. John Knightley. Mrs. Gardiner was chaperoning a niece, Miss Catherine Bennet, a slender, blooming young girl, and pretty without being very striking; but Mrs. Knightley was impressed with her pleasing manners, and the enthusiasm with which she received the prospect of a theatre party which was being discussed on that occasion. It was the work of a moment for Emma to decide that she must ask her sister to bring Miss Bennet to the ball; but during the remainder of the evening, while she considered and observed, an improvement on the first idea suggested itself; Miss Bennet must be invited to stay in Portman Square for the great occasion. What better arrangement could there be? Isabella would not want to stay late, but young girls liked to dance till the last moment, and she, Emma, would have the benefit of Miss Bennet's help in the preparations, and would be able to introduce her to her partners beforehand. Yes, Miss Bennet was certainly very pretty, prettier than she had appeared at first--such a slim, upright figure, such a profusion of hair, such a delicate fairness of complexion; she would be a great success! It would be as delightful as when last year, the girl who was at the ball as Mrs. Knightley's special friend and prot g e had finished the evening triumphantly becoming engaged to the most eligible man present, Sir William Manvers. Emma felt a thrill at the recollection. The event had justified all her admiration for Sophia Lennox, and Mr. Knightley, who had been so sceptical, had been obliged to admit that sometimes people did marry those whom one had destined for them. There was no Sir William Manvers this year, it was true; but Miss Bennet was still young, and there was plenty of time for the right man to appear. In fact, it was really only her due that she should be properly taken out in London, in order that she might have every chance, and this her aunt, Mrs. Gardiner, was quite evidently not able to give her. What wonder that the upshot of these reflections was a courteous note to Mrs. Gardiner, begging for the pleasure of a visit from Miss Bennet as soon as her stay in Gracechurch Street should be concluded. Kitty was in transports of happiness when all was arranged and she found herself actually Mrs. George Knightley's guest, with a ball in prospect, and each day one round of visits and shopping and other delights, with intervals only long enough to admit of changing one elegant gown for another, for her mother and sisters had taken care she should be provided with an ample wardrobe. She soon ceased to regret not having been allowed to accompany Lydia to the West Indies, and before many days were over had discovered a reason to rejoice that she had not gone. Among Mrs. Knightley's frequent visitors at this time was a young naval lieutenant named William Price, whom she had met a short time previously at the house of the same Mr. Yates who had paid a visit to Bath in the preceding spring. Mr. Yates lived in Cavendish Square, and as his wife was a first cousin of William Price's, they had begged the young man to make their house his home whenever he happened to be in London. Young Price had lately been attached to a ship of the line, the _Andromeda_, which he had been obliged to put into Portsmouth for repairs, and he had been employing some of the period of his enforced leisure in taking up a course of signalling and gunnery, as he was extremely anxious to gain promotion as speedily as possible; but he had found that it was necessary to use other means than those of mere hard work, and at the present time he was living in London, keeping in touch with the Admiralty and endeavouring to recommend himself to every high official and person of influence with whom he could contrive to become acquainted. In the intervals he paid hasty visits to his sisters, who were settled in Northamptonshire, and to his mother at Portsmouth; and being a young man of excellent address, great charm of manner and marked abilities, he had gained a deserved popularity, and could not help enjoying the gaiety of London life, available to him through the hospitality of numerous friends. Mrs. Knightley was extremely pleased with him, and with his next brother, David, who was a clerk in the India Office, and both young men found it a very agreeable house to come to, especially when to the welcome of their hostess was added that of a pretty girl who, warm-hearted and impulsive, did not attempt to conceal her pleasure in their company. David Price was two or three years her junior, and in him Kitty Bennet found only a merry and boyish companion; but the manliness of the young sailor aroused different feelings, and it was not long before she realized that the visits of William Price were becoming the most important thing in her life. She dreamt of him before he came, she had no eyes for anyone else when he was present, and she treasured his words when he had gone; and although she could not honestly read into those words more than a passing friendliness, yet she allowed herself to cherish hopes that each _next_ time there might be something warmer. Poor Kitty had secretly longed to be married ever since she was sixteen; and now at last it seemed as if Destiny itself was working for her, in placing her with so kind a hostess, who was always giving invitations and affording opportunities, and in sending her such a splendid hero of romance to fall in love with, for a hero he was, of a campaign at sea, when he had distinguished himself as much by bravery as he had on shore by industry; a hero with good looks, an assured position, and prize-money saved, and at the present moment with nothing particular to do but fall in love with Miss Kitty Bennet! It was impossible not to feel, under the circumstances, that the course of events was plainly marked out. Mrs. Knightley certainly thought so too, and although she refrained from definite statements, her sympathetic attitude encouraged Kitty to talk herself into hope and self-confidence. The importance of the ball itself in the great scheme of things was not overlooked, and Emma even dreamt now of a brilliant d nouement like last year's. She had invited a large number of people, and was anxious to have as many dancing couples as possible, so Mrs. Hurst's request for permission to bring her brother and Miss Darcy was warmly acceded to, and it was only a matter of regret that their friend Colonel Fitzwilliam could not be induced to go to any balls this season. Kitty was delighted at the prospect of meeting Georgiana again, and when the call spoken of by Mrs. Hurst was being paid, on the day following Georgiana's arrival, she availed herself of a pause in the conversation, and a nod and a smile from Mrs. Knightley, to ask her friend to come to another room for a few moments, on the plea of showing her some new possessions. Georgiana duly admired the bonnets and pelisses, and the gold chain which was Mrs. Knightley's present, and the rose-coloured ball dress which was to make its first appearance on the much-talked-of occasion. Kitty's head was evidently full of this event; she dwelt on it constantly, and from her quick nervous manner Georgiana guessed at some kind of special preoccupation with the subject. "And so you are very happy here, Kitty? Perhaps I need not ask that," she said, as Kitty turned to unfold another new muslin gown. "Oh, very, very happy, perfectly happy," exclaimed Kitty with eagerness. "Mrs. Knightley is so kind, and such nice people come here, you have no idea, Georgiana. Now, do look; is not that beautiful? A real India muslin, and the colour just suits me. You ought to like it, for I bought it with some money Elizabeth gave me." "Yes, dear, I do like it, of course," returned Georgiana; "but tell me some more about yourself. How long were you with the Gardiners?" "I forget just how long, but I came here on the first of June. Oh, I do not know how ever I shall be able to leave! Georgiana, I must tell you! I have been longing to do so, and yet I do not know how I can, after all, for it has not really happened yet. "Of course you have guessed," she went on, in answer to Georgiana's affectionately inquiring glance; "it can only be one thing: but pray do not mention it to anyone, for no one has any idea of it except Mrs. Knightley. It is so wonderful! Georgiana, do you believe in love at first sight?" "I have never thought about it," answered Georgiana honestly, "but I should think it might be possible." "Indeed, indeed, it is possible! It does happen. When you see him, you will know how easily. You will see him on Tuesday night; I do wonder what you will think of him. You must be sure to tell me quite truthfully." "Dear Kitty, you cannot think how glad I am. You mean you are engaged, or just about to be?" "Oh, no, no, no!" exclaimed Kitty, "you do not understand. I think--I hope--but I do not even know if he cares. Sometimes I feel sure he does, and then, again, he seems to be perfectly indifferent, and it is so terrible then, more terrible than you can imagine. But you will see--you will judge for yourself; I shall depend so much upon you for comfort and counsel, especially if Bingley asks him to come down and stay at Desborough, as I mean to persuade him to do." Georgiana was not much enlightened, and her shyness and natural reserve made her hesitate to ask questions on such a subject, which, had she been Kitty, she could not have mentioned to any living creature. But Kitty was evidently longing for sympathy, and poured out her hopes and fears and her reasons for both, mingling with them a description of William Price, painted in the most vivid colours and emphasizing his courage and distinction as an officer, his amiability as a man, his perfection as a ball-room partner, and the high opinion Mr. Knightley and all sensible men had formed of him. Georgiana listened, and was interested almost against her will; she had known Kitty to take fancies several times before for persons who had not returned her regard or thought of doing so; but in this case, from what she could gather, the young man seemed really to deserve Kitty's enthusiasm; they had met under Mrs. Knightley's auspices, he had been very often at the house, and certainly, everything considered, it was much more likely that he should fall in love with Kitty than not. Nevertheless, she hardly knew how to answer her; to encourage her in hopes which might prove false would be the cruellest kindness, so, while, murmuring her wishes for her friend's happiness, she agreed that she must wait for the evening of the ball before she could really tell how far Kitty's dreams were likely to be realized. They talked so long that eventually she had to propose a return to the drawing-room, fearing to be guilty of discourtesy towards Mrs. Knightley; but she was glad that only a moment was left for Kitty's hurried inquiry about her own affairs, as they hastened down the staircase, and that she could therefore dismiss the subject with a light word. Kitty was scarcely satisfied, but finding that Georgiana could not be induced to speak of Colonel Fitzwilliam, returned to her own all-absorbing topic with the remark, "I do wish you could meet someone just like my dear Mr. Price!" Chapter IX The next few days passed rapidly for both girls, and were so full of engagements that they were not able to arrange another meeting, and Georgiana deeply regretted the fact that, except for a glimpse of her at the ball, she should not see Kitty again before Bingley's departure from town. She could only hope that all would go well, and looked forward to a fuller intercourse in Derbyshire in a few weeks' time. Meanwhile, there were many friends to see, and Georgiana would have enjoyed herself thoroughly had she not dreaded the first meeting with Colonel Fitzwilliam, which she felt hanging over her, since Bingley had called on the Colonel and reported him to be in town, but which she did not know when to expect. A slight change in her plans, necessitating a short absence from Mr. Hurst's house, led her to imagine that it would be temporarily averted; but on the very day of the ball, when she and her hostesses had remained at home, and a larger number of visitors than usual happened to be in the room, she experienced a painful shock on hearing his name announced and on seeing him walk into the room. Next moment she was angry with herself for losing her composure, even momentarily, and bracing herself for a possible encounter, she endeavoured to continue to bear her part in a conversation with two or three of Mrs. Hurst's friends, who, she realized gratefully, were strangers to her until that day. It was some minutes afterwards that she was aware of Colonel Fitzwilliam approaching her, guided by Miss Bingley, whose kindly intentions of making the occasion as ordinary as possible only served to intensify its discomfort. Georgiana, however, thought the fault all hers, as, not reassured at all by Caroline's cheerful "Colonel Fitzwilliam was so glad to hear you were staying with us, Georgiana," she found herself only just able to give him her hand with an almost inaudible greeting, while her face, suffused with deepest blushes, must, she felt, have made her noticeable to all around. It was Colonel Fitzwilliam's part to set her at her ease, which he did, to some extent with a few kindly and naturally-expressed sentences, inquiring about her journey, and the health of those she had left behind. Georgiana presently ventured to let her eyes rest on him, and was startled to see how much older he looked even in the short time since she'd seen him, and how ill and worn. A terror seized her heart that she might be guilty of these altered looks, but it passed in an instant; there was not any doubt that their parting had been for the good of both; but poor Cousin Robert, it was plain to see that he had been suffering, from whatever cause, and her sympathy went out to him unconsciously, even while she could hardly talk to him from embarrassment of knowing that Caroline Bingley was standing by, apparently occupied with other people, but drawing conclusions from every word she could hear. "I had intended coming to see you, anyhow, Georgiana," said Fitzwilliam, "but I am very busy, you know--I do not go out much; and you live in a perpetual whirl of gaiety, I expect." He smiled as he spoke, and Georgiana tried to answer in the same spirit, telling him that they had a good many plans, and people were very kind, but she was not really in a whirl, in fact, the very next morning she was leaving for Grosvenor Street for a few days, to spend them quietly with her old friend Mrs. Annesley, who lived in Hans Place, quite away from the bustle of London. "Mrs. Annesley?" repeated Fitzwilliam; "of course I remember her; she will enjoy having you, but how have Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley become reconciled to parting with you even for a week?" Georgiana explained hurriedly that it had been quite a sudden engagement; her old friend had been to see her, and had begged for a short visit from her, if possible, for Mrs. Annesley was on the point of going to India, to live with a married son who had lost his wife, and she might not have the opportunity of seeing her former pupil again for many years. Georgiana had been happy in the opportunity of going to her friend at such a time; her present hostesses had acquiesced, and a week was to be spared to Mrs. Annesley. "But it will be made up in Grosvenor Street next month, I assume," said Colonel Fitzwilliam. "I hardly know--I believe Elizabeth and my brother want me at home again soon--but of course I like being here too," said Georgiana, stumbling over her words, and feeling that she was disgracing herself. If only Caroline would not stand there and seem to be observing them so closely! She did not believe it would be so distressing to talk to Cousin Robert if only they could be together somewhere among strangers. This thought impelled her to ask him, quite at random, for she had every reason to know what his reply would be, whether he was going to Mrs. Knightley's ball. "I am afraid not, Georgiana. I think I am getting too old for balls; but I wish you a great deal of pleasure there." "Oh, Cousin Robert, you are not too old, but you--" she checked herself in this impetuous speech, and ended rather confusedly, "but you look tired"; which was not what she would have wished to say. Her cousin glanced kindly at her, but turned her remark off with a laugh; and as he seemed about to move away, Georgiana, in desperation, and astonished at herself, said timidly: "I hope we may meet again, even though you do not go to balls." "I hope so, too, Georgiana. But of course we shall. I must come some morning and take you all to Kensington Gardens." Georgiana felt that this would not be a great improvement on the present situation, but she could not say any more, and supposed their conversation was at an end, when Fitzwilliam, who had made a step from her, seemed struck with a sudden idea, and turned to her again, saying: "May I come and call on you at Mrs. Annesley's? She will perhaps remember me and--I may not be in town later on." Georgiana flushed with surprise and pleasure, and her eager assent left Fitzwilliam in no doubt as to his reception. He stayed only to assure himself of the number of Mrs. Annesley's house, then bowed and walked rapidly away, as Miss Bingley approached with the evident intention of breaking up their conclave. Georgiana had to submit to a certain amount of comment from the sisters, who, while condoling with her for having had to pass through a uncomfortable few minutes, appeared surprised that she should have been able to talk to Colonel Fitzwilliam, but she herself felt nothing but happiness in having met her cousin again, and found it possible to think of being on those terms with him that Elizabeth had predicted. She spent a part of the afternoon in writing a long letter to her sister, telling her what had happened; but she did not like to send an account of her cousin that might alarm them at home, so she contented herself with saying that he was not looking at all well, and that she wished Elizabeth would persuade him to go down to Pemberley, as he must be working too hard in London. She concluded her writing with the words, "I will leave this open till to-morrow, dear Elizabeth, that I may tell you about the ball, and how Kitty looked." Kitty, indeed, was the chief subject of her thoughts when they dwelt upon the prospect of the evening, and when the time for dressing arrived Kitty's rose-coloured silk occupied her mind far more than her own white satin and pearls. When Mr. and Mrs. Hurst's party entered the ante-room where Mrs. Knightley was receiving her guests, the two girls managed to exchange a few words, and Georgiana gathered that the hero of the evening had not yet appeared, but Kitty was separated from her by the crowd of arrivals, and so it eventually came about that it was their hostess who performed the introduction of Mr. William Price to Miss Darcy. Georgiana's first thought, when she looked at the noble brow and clear blue eye of the young man, was that Kitty's attachment was easily understood, and each moment that she spent in his company strengthened that assurance. She was desirous of liking him, eager to find everything to praise in the admired--and perhaps the admirer--of her friend, and the opportunity came at once in the infectious gaiety and good spirits of the young man and the unaffected warmth of his manner. He asked her for the honour of her hand in several dances; but the first two, she noticed, he danced with Kitty, and from the sparkle in Kitty's eye, and her quick movement as he approached to claim them, Georgiana conjectured that the engagement had been made previously. When Georgiana's turn came, among the excellencies that she discovered in her partner was that of being a perfect dancer; and, moreover, one who moved through the set as if he enjoyed every step. Somewhat shyly she commented on this. "Yes, indeed, Miss Darcy, I am fond of dancing; I began very early, when I was such a small person that you probably wouldn't have seen me in a room, much less have danced with me. We all used to jump about as children, I believe; and on board ship one somehow managed to learn, so as to be ready for the balls." "Were there balls so often?" asked Georgiana. "Yes; wherever we were stationed somebody always seized the opportunity to give a ball, either a private person, or the Governor, or the regiment, or someone. There seems to be a connection established in people's minds between naval men and dancing; anyhow, as soon as there were a few days' quiet, someone would produce musicians and a waxed floor, and we were expected to go and perform. So I decided that I had better like it." "You are a very fortunate person to be able to be able to like

sociological

How many times the word 'sociological' appears in the text?

Brandon's death, that there had not been time for much intercourse between them and the Darcys, though Elizabeth had been greatly pleased with what she had seen of Mrs. Ferrars. Since the former's return from Bath, and after her experiences there of the other branch of the family, she could appreciate fully the immense superiority of the Edward Ferrars over their relations. Ferrars himself was too quiet, diffident, and reserved a man to recommend himself easily, but in his wife all recognized a woman of a rare and noble nature, distinguished alike by the sweetness of her character and by its strength. The Darcys rejoiced in the increased opportunities of meeting afforded by the presence of their guest, and various walks, drives and out-of-doors excursions were organized, for which the glorious weather of early June afforded every opportunity. The first diminution their party suffered was in the departure of Georgiana for London, which occurred on the seventeenth of the month. The visit had long been talked of, and Georgiana really looked forward with no little pleasure to seeing her old friends, for Caroline Bingley and Louisa took pains not to show to her, of whom they were exceedingly fond, the cold-hearted and worldly aspect of their dispositions; but when she found herself actually in the travelling carriage with Bingley, with her maid seated opposite, she felt, as she did every year, the sensation of leaving all that she cared for behind her, and of entering scenes alarming because unfamiliar. Bingley good-naturedly endeavoured to divert her in every way, talked of the pleasures awaiting her, and of the friends she would see in London, Kitty Bennet and Mrs. Annesley, besides her hostesses, and casually mentioned the possibility of her coming across Colonel Fitzwilliam. Georgiana had been prepared for this by Elizabeth, and had first shrunk from the idea; but afterwards became reconciled to the view put before her, that the first meeting, which must necessarily be painful, must come some time, and it would be best to get it over in a crowd, with a few ordinary words of greeting, which would put them on a comfortable footing for the future. She, therefore, made an effort to reply cheerfully to all Bingley's suggestions, and had not found the journey tedious when they drew up in Grosvenor Street in time for dinner on the third day. Caroline and Louisa could not make enough of her, and the evening was spent in talking over the plans they had formed for her amusement, and in detailing the engagements they had entered into. It soon appeared that the ball which Bingley had mentioned was on their list; for they were also acquainted with Mrs. George Knightley, whose entertainment it was, and had secured invitations from her for their brother and their young friend. Bingley inquired of the date of the ball, explaining how it affected his movements; and his sisters endeavoured to conceal their surprise on hearing that Miss Kitty Bennet was staying with the Knightleys. "I thought, when you spoke of coming to fetch her, Charles, that she was with her uncle and aunt in Gracechurch Street," said Miss Bingley. "To tell the truth, I was not very clear about it myself," returned Bingley. "Jane told me that she was going to stay over this ball, but whether she was with the Gardiners or the Knightleys I did not make out until just before we came away. It does not make a vast deal of difference, to my thinking." "There is certainly some difference; the Knightleys live in Portland Square, for one thing," replied Miss Bingley. "Do they? I am glad of that, for it means I shall not have to drive so far round to pick Kitty up," was Bingley's cheerful answer, and he moved away to speak to Mr. Hurst, leaving his sisters to their speculations as to how Miss Bennet could have come to know the George Knightleys. Georgiana did not know, but conjectured it was through Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner; and the ladies, though they refrained from showing their perplexity, were even more puzzled to account for the uncle who lived in Cheapside being acquainted with such people of fashion. "Have you seen anything of Fitzwilliam, Louisa?" inquired Bingley of his eldest sister, when he came to have his coffee-cup refilled. "Really, Charles, what a foolish question to ask," replied Mrs. Hurst, with affected carelessness. "Of course we see him frequently when he is in town." "Very good; I hope he will come round while I am here, and, if not, I shall get you to give me his direction, for I must certainly look him up before I go back." Mrs. Hurst made a vague answer, for both she and her sister were sincerely anxious to spare Georgiana any embarrassment, and they would not of their own accord have referred to Fitzwilliam until they knew how she was able to bear the mention of his name in public. Caroline immediately began speaking of another subject, but Georgiana, divining their intentions, felt that she must not indulge in a foolish sensibility which might give her friends a false impression of the state of things; so, summoning all her courage, she said, with a deep blush but a tolerably firm voice: "Yes, I hope my cousin may be in town this month. Elizabeth and my brother gave me many messages for him, if I should see him." She was conscious that the ladies were looking at her in surprise, but that Bingley noticed nothing but the amount of milk Louisa was putting in his coffee was a great help, and Caroline, the next moment, said quietly: "Oh, yes, no doubt he will call," which made it unnecessary for Georgiana to say any more. Bingley, having secured his cup, next produced a notebook and proceeded to write down the address of Fitzwilliam's lodgings and the name of his club, and, as an afterthought, the various engagements to which he had been pledged by his sisters. Georgiana found that Mrs. Hurst and Caroline were anxious she should go with them on the following day to call in Portman Square and meet Mrs. George Knightley. Mrs. Knightley, formerly Emma Woodhouse, had, since her marriage, been able to enjoy a larger measure of the social power and influence in the use of which she had always delighted. Since Mr. Woodhouse's death she had persuaded her husband to go into Parliament, and except for short visits to Donwell, they now lived entirely in London--an arrangement which just suited Emma, who had long desired some stir and variety in her life, after having spent so many unbroken years in a country village. Mr. Knightley still took the greatest interest in the farming of his property, and as soon as he was trustee to his sister-in-law, Mrs. John Knightley, for the estate of Hartfield, which had passed to her on her father's death, he found as much to do out of London as in it; while Emma, though fond of Donwell, had grown weary of the neighbourhood, and took a keen pleasure in forming round her in London a large circle of acquaintances, whom she loved to entertain, and in whose characters and careers she took the deepest interest. Mrs. Knightley's ball had become an annual fixture in the month of June, and this year she had a special incentive for giving it and for making it as gay as possible. At her sister's house she had met Mrs. Gardiner, whose husband had long been a close friend in business of Mr. John Knightley. Mrs. Gardiner was chaperoning a niece, Miss Catherine Bennet, a slender, blooming young girl, and pretty without being very striking; but Mrs. Knightley was impressed with her pleasing manners, and the enthusiasm with which she received the prospect of a theatre party which was being discussed on that occasion. It was the work of a moment for Emma to decide that she must ask her sister to bring Miss Bennet to the ball; but during the remainder of the evening, while she considered and observed, an improvement on the first idea suggested itself; Miss Bennet must be invited to stay in Portman Square for the great occasion. What better arrangement could there be? Isabella would not want to stay late, but young girls liked to dance till the last moment, and she, Emma, would have the benefit of Miss Bennet's help in the preparations, and would be able to introduce her to her partners beforehand. Yes, Miss Bennet was certainly very pretty, prettier than she had appeared at first--such a slim, upright figure, such a profusion of hair, such a delicate fairness of complexion; she would be a great success! It would be as delightful as when last year, the girl who was at the ball as Mrs. Knightley's special friend and prot g e had finished the evening triumphantly becoming engaged to the most eligible man present, Sir William Manvers. Emma felt a thrill at the recollection. The event had justified all her admiration for Sophia Lennox, and Mr. Knightley, who had been so sceptical, had been obliged to admit that sometimes people did marry those whom one had destined for them. There was no Sir William Manvers this year, it was true; but Miss Bennet was still young, and there was plenty of time for the right man to appear. In fact, it was really only her due that she should be properly taken out in London, in order that she might have every chance, and this her aunt, Mrs. Gardiner, was quite evidently not able to give her. What wonder that the upshot of these reflections was a courteous note to Mrs. Gardiner, begging for the pleasure of a visit from Miss Bennet as soon as her stay in Gracechurch Street should be concluded. Kitty was in transports of happiness when all was arranged and she found herself actually Mrs. George Knightley's guest, with a ball in prospect, and each day one round of visits and shopping and other delights, with intervals only long enough to admit of changing one elegant gown for another, for her mother and sisters had taken care she should be provided with an ample wardrobe. She soon ceased to regret not having been allowed to accompany Lydia to the West Indies, and before many days were over had discovered a reason to rejoice that she had not gone. Among Mrs. Knightley's frequent visitors at this time was a young naval lieutenant named William Price, whom she had met a short time previously at the house of the same Mr. Yates who had paid a visit to Bath in the preceding spring. Mr. Yates lived in Cavendish Square, and as his wife was a first cousin of William Price's, they had begged the young man to make their house his home whenever he happened to be in London. Young Price had lately been attached to a ship of the line, the _Andromeda_, which he had been obliged to put into Portsmouth for repairs, and he had been employing some of the period of his enforced leisure in taking up a course of signalling and gunnery, as he was extremely anxious to gain promotion as speedily as possible; but he had found that it was necessary to use other means than those of mere hard work, and at the present time he was living in London, keeping in touch with the Admiralty and endeavouring to recommend himself to every high official and person of influence with whom he could contrive to become acquainted. In the intervals he paid hasty visits to his sisters, who were settled in Northamptonshire, and to his mother at Portsmouth; and being a young man of excellent address, great charm of manner and marked abilities, he had gained a deserved popularity, and could not help enjoying the gaiety of London life, available to him through the hospitality of numerous friends. Mrs. Knightley was extremely pleased with him, and with his next brother, David, who was a clerk in the India Office, and both young men found it a very agreeable house to come to, especially when to the welcome of their hostess was added that of a pretty girl who, warm-hearted and impulsive, did not attempt to conceal her pleasure in their company. David Price was two or three years her junior, and in him Kitty Bennet found only a merry and boyish companion; but the manliness of the young sailor aroused different feelings, and it was not long before she realized that the visits of William Price were becoming the most important thing in her life. She dreamt of him before he came, she had no eyes for anyone else when he was present, and she treasured his words when he had gone; and although she could not honestly read into those words more than a passing friendliness, yet she allowed herself to cherish hopes that each _next_ time there might be something warmer. Poor Kitty had secretly longed to be married ever since she was sixteen; and now at last it seemed as if Destiny itself was working for her, in placing her with so kind a hostess, who was always giving invitations and affording opportunities, and in sending her such a splendid hero of romance to fall in love with, for a hero he was, of a campaign at sea, when he had distinguished himself as much by bravery as he had on shore by industry; a hero with good looks, an assured position, and prize-money saved, and at the present moment with nothing particular to do but fall in love with Miss Kitty Bennet! It was impossible not to feel, under the circumstances, that the course of events was plainly marked out. Mrs. Knightley certainly thought so too, and although she refrained from definite statements, her sympathetic attitude encouraged Kitty to talk herself into hope and self-confidence. The importance of the ball itself in the great scheme of things was not overlooked, and Emma even dreamt now of a brilliant d nouement like last year's. She had invited a large number of people, and was anxious to have as many dancing couples as possible, so Mrs. Hurst's request for permission to bring her brother and Miss Darcy was warmly acceded to, and it was only a matter of regret that their friend Colonel Fitzwilliam could not be induced to go to any balls this season. Kitty was delighted at the prospect of meeting Georgiana again, and when the call spoken of by Mrs. Hurst was being paid, on the day following Georgiana's arrival, she availed herself of a pause in the conversation, and a nod and a smile from Mrs. Knightley, to ask her friend to come to another room for a few moments, on the plea of showing her some new possessions. Georgiana duly admired the bonnets and pelisses, and the gold chain which was Mrs. Knightley's present, and the rose-coloured ball dress which was to make its first appearance on the much-talked-of occasion. Kitty's head was evidently full of this event; she dwelt on it constantly, and from her quick nervous manner Georgiana guessed at some kind of special preoccupation with the subject. "And so you are very happy here, Kitty? Perhaps I need not ask that," she said, as Kitty turned to unfold another new muslin gown. "Oh, very, very happy, perfectly happy," exclaimed Kitty with eagerness. "Mrs. Knightley is so kind, and such nice people come here, you have no idea, Georgiana. Now, do look; is not that beautiful? A real India muslin, and the colour just suits me. You ought to like it, for I bought it with some money Elizabeth gave me." "Yes, dear, I do like it, of course," returned Georgiana; "but tell me some more about yourself. How long were you with the Gardiners?" "I forget just how long, but I came here on the first of June. Oh, I do not know how ever I shall be able to leave! Georgiana, I must tell you! I have been longing to do so, and yet I do not know how I can, after all, for it has not really happened yet. "Of course you have guessed," she went on, in answer to Georgiana's affectionately inquiring glance; "it can only be one thing: but pray do not mention it to anyone, for no one has any idea of it except Mrs. Knightley. It is so wonderful! Georgiana, do you believe in love at first sight?" "I have never thought about it," answered Georgiana honestly, "but I should think it might be possible." "Indeed, indeed, it is possible! It does happen. When you see him, you will know how easily. You will see him on Tuesday night; I do wonder what you will think of him. You must be sure to tell me quite truthfully." "Dear Kitty, you cannot think how glad I am. You mean you are engaged, or just about to be?" "Oh, no, no, no!" exclaimed Kitty, "you do not understand. I think--I hope--but I do not even know if he cares. Sometimes I feel sure he does, and then, again, he seems to be perfectly indifferent, and it is so terrible then, more terrible than you can imagine. But you will see--you will judge for yourself; I shall depend so much upon you for comfort and counsel, especially if Bingley asks him to come down and stay at Desborough, as I mean to persuade him to do." Georgiana was not much enlightened, and her shyness and natural reserve made her hesitate to ask questions on such a subject, which, had she been Kitty, she could not have mentioned to any living creature. But Kitty was evidently longing for sympathy, and poured out her hopes and fears and her reasons for both, mingling with them a description of William Price, painted in the most vivid colours and emphasizing his courage and distinction as an officer, his amiability as a man, his perfection as a ball-room partner, and the high opinion Mr. Knightley and all sensible men had formed of him. Georgiana listened, and was interested almost against her will; she had known Kitty to take fancies several times before for persons who had not returned her regard or thought of doing so; but in this case, from what she could gather, the young man seemed really to deserve Kitty's enthusiasm; they had met under Mrs. Knightley's auspices, he had been very often at the house, and certainly, everything considered, it was much more likely that he should fall in love with Kitty than not. Nevertheless, she hardly knew how to answer her; to encourage her in hopes which might prove false would be the cruellest kindness, so, while, murmuring her wishes for her friend's happiness, she agreed that she must wait for the evening of the ball before she could really tell how far Kitty's dreams were likely to be realized. They talked so long that eventually she had to propose a return to the drawing-room, fearing to be guilty of discourtesy towards Mrs. Knightley; but she was glad that only a moment was left for Kitty's hurried inquiry about her own affairs, as they hastened down the staircase, and that she could therefore dismiss the subject with a light word. Kitty was scarcely satisfied, but finding that Georgiana could not be induced to speak of Colonel Fitzwilliam, returned to her own all-absorbing topic with the remark, "I do wish you could meet someone just like my dear Mr. Price!" Chapter IX The next few days passed rapidly for both girls, and were so full of engagements that they were not able to arrange another meeting, and Georgiana deeply regretted the fact that, except for a glimpse of her at the ball, she should not see Kitty again before Bingley's departure from town. She could only hope that all would go well, and looked forward to a fuller intercourse in Derbyshire in a few weeks' time. Meanwhile, there were many friends to see, and Georgiana would have enjoyed herself thoroughly had she not dreaded the first meeting with Colonel Fitzwilliam, which she felt hanging over her, since Bingley had called on the Colonel and reported him to be in town, but which she did not know when to expect. A slight change in her plans, necessitating a short absence from Mr. Hurst's house, led her to imagine that it would be temporarily averted; but on the very day of the ball, when she and her hostesses had remained at home, and a larger number of visitors than usual happened to be in the room, she experienced a painful shock on hearing his name announced and on seeing him walk into the room. Next moment she was angry with herself for losing her composure, even momentarily, and bracing herself for a possible encounter, she endeavoured to continue to bear her part in a conversation with two or three of Mrs. Hurst's friends, who, she realized gratefully, were strangers to her until that day. It was some minutes afterwards that she was aware of Colonel Fitzwilliam approaching her, guided by Miss Bingley, whose kindly intentions of making the occasion as ordinary as possible only served to intensify its discomfort. Georgiana, however, thought the fault all hers, as, not reassured at all by Caroline's cheerful "Colonel Fitzwilliam was so glad to hear you were staying with us, Georgiana," she found herself only just able to give him her hand with an almost inaudible greeting, while her face, suffused with deepest blushes, must, she felt, have made her noticeable to all around. It was Colonel Fitzwilliam's part to set her at her ease, which he did, to some extent with a few kindly and naturally-expressed sentences, inquiring about her journey, and the health of those she had left behind. Georgiana presently ventured to let her eyes rest on him, and was startled to see how much older he looked even in the short time since she'd seen him, and how ill and worn. A terror seized her heart that she might be guilty of these altered looks, but it passed in an instant; there was not any doubt that their parting had been for the good of both; but poor Cousin Robert, it was plain to see that he had been suffering, from whatever cause, and her sympathy went out to him unconsciously, even while she could hardly talk to him from embarrassment of knowing that Caroline Bingley was standing by, apparently occupied with other people, but drawing conclusions from every word she could hear. "I had intended coming to see you, anyhow, Georgiana," said Fitzwilliam, "but I am very busy, you know--I do not go out much; and you live in a perpetual whirl of gaiety, I expect." He smiled as he spoke, and Georgiana tried to answer in the same spirit, telling him that they had a good many plans, and people were very kind, but she was not really in a whirl, in fact, the very next morning she was leaving for Grosvenor Street for a few days, to spend them quietly with her old friend Mrs. Annesley, who lived in Hans Place, quite away from the bustle of London. "Mrs. Annesley?" repeated Fitzwilliam; "of course I remember her; she will enjoy having you, but how have Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley become reconciled to parting with you even for a week?" Georgiana explained hurriedly that it had been quite a sudden engagement; her old friend had been to see her, and had begged for a short visit from her, if possible, for Mrs. Annesley was on the point of going to India, to live with a married son who had lost his wife, and she might not have the opportunity of seeing her former pupil again for many years. Georgiana had been happy in the opportunity of going to her friend at such a time; her present hostesses had acquiesced, and a week was to be spared to Mrs. Annesley. "But it will be made up in Grosvenor Street next month, I assume," said Colonel Fitzwilliam. "I hardly know--I believe Elizabeth and my brother want me at home again soon--but of course I like being here too," said Georgiana, stumbling over her words, and feeling that she was disgracing herself. If only Caroline would not stand there and seem to be observing them so closely! She did not believe it would be so distressing to talk to Cousin Robert if only they could be together somewhere among strangers. This thought impelled her to ask him, quite at random, for she had every reason to know what his reply would be, whether he was going to Mrs. Knightley's ball. "I am afraid not, Georgiana. I think I am getting too old for balls; but I wish you a great deal of pleasure there." "Oh, Cousin Robert, you are not too old, but you--" she checked herself in this impetuous speech, and ended rather confusedly, "but you look tired"; which was not what she would have wished to say. Her cousin glanced kindly at her, but turned her remark off with a laugh; and as he seemed about to move away, Georgiana, in desperation, and astonished at herself, said timidly: "I hope we may meet again, even though you do not go to balls." "I hope so, too, Georgiana. But of course we shall. I must come some morning and take you all to Kensington Gardens." Georgiana felt that this would not be a great improvement on the present situation, but she could not say any more, and supposed their conversation was at an end, when Fitzwilliam, who had made a step from her, seemed struck with a sudden idea, and turned to her again, saying: "May I come and call on you at Mrs. Annesley's? She will perhaps remember me and--I may not be in town later on." Georgiana flushed with surprise and pleasure, and her eager assent left Fitzwilliam in no doubt as to his reception. He stayed only to assure himself of the number of Mrs. Annesley's house, then bowed and walked rapidly away, as Miss Bingley approached with the evident intention of breaking up their conclave. Georgiana had to submit to a certain amount of comment from the sisters, who, while condoling with her for having had to pass through a uncomfortable few minutes, appeared surprised that she should have been able to talk to Colonel Fitzwilliam, but she herself felt nothing but happiness in having met her cousin again, and found it possible to think of being on those terms with him that Elizabeth had predicted. She spent a part of the afternoon in writing a long letter to her sister, telling her what had happened; but she did not like to send an account of her cousin that might alarm them at home, so she contented herself with saying that he was not looking at all well, and that she wished Elizabeth would persuade him to go down to Pemberley, as he must be working too hard in London. She concluded her writing with the words, "I will leave this open till to-morrow, dear Elizabeth, that I may tell you about the ball, and how Kitty looked." Kitty, indeed, was the chief subject of her thoughts when they dwelt upon the prospect of the evening, and when the time for dressing arrived Kitty's rose-coloured silk occupied her mind far more than her own white satin and pearls. When Mr. and Mrs. Hurst's party entered the ante-room where Mrs. Knightley was receiving her guests, the two girls managed to exchange a few words, and Georgiana gathered that the hero of the evening had not yet appeared, but Kitty was separated from her by the crowd of arrivals, and so it eventually came about that it was their hostess who performed the introduction of Mr. William Price to Miss Darcy. Georgiana's first thought, when she looked at the noble brow and clear blue eye of the young man, was that Kitty's attachment was easily understood, and each moment that she spent in his company strengthened that assurance. She was desirous of liking him, eager to find everything to praise in the admired--and perhaps the admirer--of her friend, and the opportunity came at once in the infectious gaiety and good spirits of the young man and the unaffected warmth of his manner. He asked her for the honour of her hand in several dances; but the first two, she noticed, he danced with Kitty, and from the sparkle in Kitty's eye, and her quick movement as he approached to claim them, Georgiana conjectured that the engagement had been made previously. When Georgiana's turn came, among the excellencies that she discovered in her partner was that of being a perfect dancer; and, moreover, one who moved through the set as if he enjoyed every step. Somewhat shyly she commented on this. "Yes, indeed, Miss Darcy, I am fond of dancing; I began very early, when I was such a small person that you probably wouldn't have seen me in a room, much less have danced with me. We all used to jump about as children, I believe; and on board ship one somehow managed to learn, so as to be ready for the balls." "Were there balls so often?" asked Georgiana. "Yes; wherever we were stationed somebody always seized the opportunity to give a ball, either a private person, or the Governor, or the regiment, or someone. There seems to be a connection established in people's minds between naval men and dancing; anyhow, as soon as there were a few days' quiet, someone would produce musicians and a waxed floor, and we were expected to go and perform. So I decided that I had better like it." "You are a very fortunate person to be able to be able to like

cares

How many times the word 'cares' appears in the text?

Brandon's death, that there had not been time for much intercourse between them and the Darcys, though Elizabeth had been greatly pleased with what she had seen of Mrs. Ferrars. Since the former's return from Bath, and after her experiences there of the other branch of the family, she could appreciate fully the immense superiority of the Edward Ferrars over their relations. Ferrars himself was too quiet, diffident, and reserved a man to recommend himself easily, but in his wife all recognized a woman of a rare and noble nature, distinguished alike by the sweetness of her character and by its strength. The Darcys rejoiced in the increased opportunities of meeting afforded by the presence of their guest, and various walks, drives and out-of-doors excursions were organized, for which the glorious weather of early June afforded every opportunity. The first diminution their party suffered was in the departure of Georgiana for London, which occurred on the seventeenth of the month. The visit had long been talked of, and Georgiana really looked forward with no little pleasure to seeing her old friends, for Caroline Bingley and Louisa took pains not to show to her, of whom they were exceedingly fond, the cold-hearted and worldly aspect of their dispositions; but when she found herself actually in the travelling carriage with Bingley, with her maid seated opposite, she felt, as she did every year, the sensation of leaving all that she cared for behind her, and of entering scenes alarming because unfamiliar. Bingley good-naturedly endeavoured to divert her in every way, talked of the pleasures awaiting her, and of the friends she would see in London, Kitty Bennet and Mrs. Annesley, besides her hostesses, and casually mentioned the possibility of her coming across Colonel Fitzwilliam. Georgiana had been prepared for this by Elizabeth, and had first shrunk from the idea; but afterwards became reconciled to the view put before her, that the first meeting, which must necessarily be painful, must come some time, and it would be best to get it over in a crowd, with a few ordinary words of greeting, which would put them on a comfortable footing for the future. She, therefore, made an effort to reply cheerfully to all Bingley's suggestions, and had not found the journey tedious when they drew up in Grosvenor Street in time for dinner on the third day. Caroline and Louisa could not make enough of her, and the evening was spent in talking over the plans they had formed for her amusement, and in detailing the engagements they had entered into. It soon appeared that the ball which Bingley had mentioned was on their list; for they were also acquainted with Mrs. George Knightley, whose entertainment it was, and had secured invitations from her for their brother and their young friend. Bingley inquired of the date of the ball, explaining how it affected his movements; and his sisters endeavoured to conceal their surprise on hearing that Miss Kitty Bennet was staying with the Knightleys. "I thought, when you spoke of coming to fetch her, Charles, that she was with her uncle and aunt in Gracechurch Street," said Miss Bingley. "To tell the truth, I was not very clear about it myself," returned Bingley. "Jane told me that she was going to stay over this ball, but whether she was with the Gardiners or the Knightleys I did not make out until just before we came away. It does not make a vast deal of difference, to my thinking." "There is certainly some difference; the Knightleys live in Portland Square, for one thing," replied Miss Bingley. "Do they? I am glad of that, for it means I shall not have to drive so far round to pick Kitty up," was Bingley's cheerful answer, and he moved away to speak to Mr. Hurst, leaving his sisters to their speculations as to how Miss Bennet could have come to know the George Knightleys. Georgiana did not know, but conjectured it was through Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner; and the ladies, though they refrained from showing their perplexity, were even more puzzled to account for the uncle who lived in Cheapside being acquainted with such people of fashion. "Have you seen anything of Fitzwilliam, Louisa?" inquired Bingley of his eldest sister, when he came to have his coffee-cup refilled. "Really, Charles, what a foolish question to ask," replied Mrs. Hurst, with affected carelessness. "Of course we see him frequently when he is in town." "Very good; I hope he will come round while I am here, and, if not, I shall get you to give me his direction, for I must certainly look him up before I go back." Mrs. Hurst made a vague answer, for both she and her sister were sincerely anxious to spare Georgiana any embarrassment, and they would not of their own accord have referred to Fitzwilliam until they knew how she was able to bear the mention of his name in public. Caroline immediately began speaking of another subject, but Georgiana, divining their intentions, felt that she must not indulge in a foolish sensibility which might give her friends a false impression of the state of things; so, summoning all her courage, she said, with a deep blush but a tolerably firm voice: "Yes, I hope my cousin may be in town this month. Elizabeth and my brother gave me many messages for him, if I should see him." She was conscious that the ladies were looking at her in surprise, but that Bingley noticed nothing but the amount of milk Louisa was putting in his coffee was a great help, and Caroline, the next moment, said quietly: "Oh, yes, no doubt he will call," which made it unnecessary for Georgiana to say any more. Bingley, having secured his cup, next produced a notebook and proceeded to write down the address of Fitzwilliam's lodgings and the name of his club, and, as an afterthought, the various engagements to which he had been pledged by his sisters. Georgiana found that Mrs. Hurst and Caroline were anxious she should go with them on the following day to call in Portman Square and meet Mrs. George Knightley. Mrs. Knightley, formerly Emma Woodhouse, had, since her marriage, been able to enjoy a larger measure of the social power and influence in the use of which she had always delighted. Since Mr. Woodhouse's death she had persuaded her husband to go into Parliament, and except for short visits to Donwell, they now lived entirely in London--an arrangement which just suited Emma, who had long desired some stir and variety in her life, after having spent so many unbroken years in a country village. Mr. Knightley still took the greatest interest in the farming of his property, and as soon as he was trustee to his sister-in-law, Mrs. John Knightley, for the estate of Hartfield, which had passed to her on her father's death, he found as much to do out of London as in it; while Emma, though fond of Donwell, had grown weary of the neighbourhood, and took a keen pleasure in forming round her in London a large circle of acquaintances, whom she loved to entertain, and in whose characters and careers she took the deepest interest. Mrs. Knightley's ball had become an annual fixture in the month of June, and this year she had a special incentive for giving it and for making it as gay as possible. At her sister's house she had met Mrs. Gardiner, whose husband had long been a close friend in business of Mr. John Knightley. Mrs. Gardiner was chaperoning a niece, Miss Catherine Bennet, a slender, blooming young girl, and pretty without being very striking; but Mrs. Knightley was impressed with her pleasing manners, and the enthusiasm with which she received the prospect of a theatre party which was being discussed on that occasion. It was the work of a moment for Emma to decide that she must ask her sister to bring Miss Bennet to the ball; but during the remainder of the evening, while she considered and observed, an improvement on the first idea suggested itself; Miss Bennet must be invited to stay in Portman Square for the great occasion. What better arrangement could there be? Isabella would not want to stay late, but young girls liked to dance till the last moment, and she, Emma, would have the benefit of Miss Bennet's help in the preparations, and would be able to introduce her to her partners beforehand. Yes, Miss Bennet was certainly very pretty, prettier than she had appeared at first--such a slim, upright figure, such a profusion of hair, such a delicate fairness of complexion; she would be a great success! It would be as delightful as when last year, the girl who was at the ball as Mrs. Knightley's special friend and prot g e had finished the evening triumphantly becoming engaged to the most eligible man present, Sir William Manvers. Emma felt a thrill at the recollection. The event had justified all her admiration for Sophia Lennox, and Mr. Knightley, who had been so sceptical, had been obliged to admit that sometimes people did marry those whom one had destined for them. There was no Sir William Manvers this year, it was true; but Miss Bennet was still young, and there was plenty of time for the right man to appear. In fact, it was really only her due that she should be properly taken out in London, in order that she might have every chance, and this her aunt, Mrs. Gardiner, was quite evidently not able to give her. What wonder that the upshot of these reflections was a courteous note to Mrs. Gardiner, begging for the pleasure of a visit from Miss Bennet as soon as her stay in Gracechurch Street should be concluded. Kitty was in transports of happiness when all was arranged and she found herself actually Mrs. George Knightley's guest, with a ball in prospect, and each day one round of visits and shopping and other delights, with intervals only long enough to admit of changing one elegant gown for another, for her mother and sisters had taken care she should be provided with an ample wardrobe. She soon ceased to regret not having been allowed to accompany Lydia to the West Indies, and before many days were over had discovered a reason to rejoice that she had not gone. Among Mrs. Knightley's frequent visitors at this time was a young naval lieutenant named William Price, whom she had met a short time previously at the house of the same Mr. Yates who had paid a visit to Bath in the preceding spring. Mr. Yates lived in Cavendish Square, and as his wife was a first cousin of William Price's, they had begged the young man to make their house his home whenever he happened to be in London. Young Price had lately been attached to a ship of the line, the _Andromeda_, which he had been obliged to put into Portsmouth for repairs, and he had been employing some of the period of his enforced leisure in taking up a course of signalling and gunnery, as he was extremely anxious to gain promotion as speedily as possible; but he had found that it was necessary to use other means than those of mere hard work, and at the present time he was living in London, keeping in touch with the Admiralty and endeavouring to recommend himself to every high official and person of influence with whom he could contrive to become acquainted. In the intervals he paid hasty visits to his sisters, who were settled in Northamptonshire, and to his mother at Portsmouth; and being a young man of excellent address, great charm of manner and marked abilities, he had gained a deserved popularity, and could not help enjoying the gaiety of London life, available to him through the hospitality of numerous friends. Mrs. Knightley was extremely pleased with him, and with his next brother, David, who was a clerk in the India Office, and both young men found it a very agreeable house to come to, especially when to the welcome of their hostess was added that of a pretty girl who, warm-hearted and impulsive, did not attempt to conceal her pleasure in their company. David Price was two or three years her junior, and in him Kitty Bennet found only a merry and boyish companion; but the manliness of the young sailor aroused different feelings, and it was not long before she realized that the visits of William Price were becoming the most important thing in her life. She dreamt of him before he came, she had no eyes for anyone else when he was present, and she treasured his words when he had gone; and although she could not honestly read into those words more than a passing friendliness, yet she allowed herself to cherish hopes that each _next_ time there might be something warmer. Poor Kitty had secretly longed to be married ever since she was sixteen; and now at last it seemed as if Destiny itself was working for her, in placing her with so kind a hostess, who was always giving invitations and affording opportunities, and in sending her such a splendid hero of romance to fall in love with, for a hero he was, of a campaign at sea, when he had distinguished himself as much by bravery as he had on shore by industry; a hero with good looks, an assured position, and prize-money saved, and at the present moment with nothing particular to do but fall in love with Miss Kitty Bennet! It was impossible not to feel, under the circumstances, that the course of events was plainly marked out. Mrs. Knightley certainly thought so too, and although she refrained from definite statements, her sympathetic attitude encouraged Kitty to talk herself into hope and self-confidence. The importance of the ball itself in the great scheme of things was not overlooked, and Emma even dreamt now of a brilliant d nouement like last year's. She had invited a large number of people, and was anxious to have as many dancing couples as possible, so Mrs. Hurst's request for permission to bring her brother and Miss Darcy was warmly acceded to, and it was only a matter of regret that their friend Colonel Fitzwilliam could not be induced to go to any balls this season. Kitty was delighted at the prospect of meeting Georgiana again, and when the call spoken of by Mrs. Hurst was being paid, on the day following Georgiana's arrival, she availed herself of a pause in the conversation, and a nod and a smile from Mrs. Knightley, to ask her friend to come to another room for a few moments, on the plea of showing her some new possessions. Georgiana duly admired the bonnets and pelisses, and the gold chain which was Mrs. Knightley's present, and the rose-coloured ball dress which was to make its first appearance on the much-talked-of occasion. Kitty's head was evidently full of this event; she dwelt on it constantly, and from her quick nervous manner Georgiana guessed at some kind of special preoccupation with the subject. "And so you are very happy here, Kitty? Perhaps I need not ask that," she said, as Kitty turned to unfold another new muslin gown. "Oh, very, very happy, perfectly happy," exclaimed Kitty with eagerness. "Mrs. Knightley is so kind, and such nice people come here, you have no idea, Georgiana. Now, do look; is not that beautiful? A real India muslin, and the colour just suits me. You ought to like it, for I bought it with some money Elizabeth gave me." "Yes, dear, I do like it, of course," returned Georgiana; "but tell me some more about yourself. How long were you with the Gardiners?" "I forget just how long, but I came here on the first of June. Oh, I do not know how ever I shall be able to leave! Georgiana, I must tell you! I have been longing to do so, and yet I do not know how I can, after all, for it has not really happened yet. "Of course you have guessed," she went on, in answer to Georgiana's affectionately inquiring glance; "it can only be one thing: but pray do not mention it to anyone, for no one has any idea of it except Mrs. Knightley. It is so wonderful! Georgiana, do you believe in love at first sight?" "I have never thought about it," answered Georgiana honestly, "but I should think it might be possible." "Indeed, indeed, it is possible! It does happen. When you see him, you will know how easily. You will see him on Tuesday night; I do wonder what you will think of him. You must be sure to tell me quite truthfully." "Dear Kitty, you cannot think how glad I am. You mean you are engaged, or just about to be?" "Oh, no, no, no!" exclaimed Kitty, "you do not understand. I think--I hope--but I do not even know if he cares. Sometimes I feel sure he does, and then, again, he seems to be perfectly indifferent, and it is so terrible then, more terrible than you can imagine. But you will see--you will judge for yourself; I shall depend so much upon you for comfort and counsel, especially if Bingley asks him to come down and stay at Desborough, as I mean to persuade him to do." Georgiana was not much enlightened, and her shyness and natural reserve made her hesitate to ask questions on such a subject, which, had she been Kitty, she could not have mentioned to any living creature. But Kitty was evidently longing for sympathy, and poured out her hopes and fears and her reasons for both, mingling with them a description of William Price, painted in the most vivid colours and emphasizing his courage and distinction as an officer, his amiability as a man, his perfection as a ball-room partner, and the high opinion Mr. Knightley and all sensible men had formed of him. Georgiana listened, and was interested almost against her will; she had known Kitty to take fancies several times before for persons who had not returned her regard or thought of doing so; but in this case, from what she could gather, the young man seemed really to deserve Kitty's enthusiasm; they had met under Mrs. Knightley's auspices, he had been very often at the house, and certainly, everything considered, it was much more likely that he should fall in love with Kitty than not. Nevertheless, she hardly knew how to answer her; to encourage her in hopes which might prove false would be the cruellest kindness, so, while, murmuring her wishes for her friend's happiness, she agreed that she must wait for the evening of the ball before she could really tell how far Kitty's dreams were likely to be realized. They talked so long that eventually she had to propose a return to the drawing-room, fearing to be guilty of discourtesy towards Mrs. Knightley; but she was glad that only a moment was left for Kitty's hurried inquiry about her own affairs, as they hastened down the staircase, and that she could therefore dismiss the subject with a light word. Kitty was scarcely satisfied, but finding that Georgiana could not be induced to speak of Colonel Fitzwilliam, returned to her own all-absorbing topic with the remark, "I do wish you could meet someone just like my dear Mr. Price!" Chapter IX The next few days passed rapidly for both girls, and were so full of engagements that they were not able to arrange another meeting, and Georgiana deeply regretted the fact that, except for a glimpse of her at the ball, she should not see Kitty again before Bingley's departure from town. She could only hope that all would go well, and looked forward to a fuller intercourse in Derbyshire in a few weeks' time. Meanwhile, there were many friends to see, and Georgiana would have enjoyed herself thoroughly had she not dreaded the first meeting with Colonel Fitzwilliam, which she felt hanging over her, since Bingley had called on the Colonel and reported him to be in town, but which she did not know when to expect. A slight change in her plans, necessitating a short absence from Mr. Hurst's house, led her to imagine that it would be temporarily averted; but on the very day of the ball, when she and her hostesses had remained at home, and a larger number of visitors than usual happened to be in the room, she experienced a painful shock on hearing his name announced and on seeing him walk into the room. Next moment she was angry with herself for losing her composure, even momentarily, and bracing herself for a possible encounter, she endeavoured to continue to bear her part in a conversation with two or three of Mrs. Hurst's friends, who, she realized gratefully, were strangers to her until that day. It was some minutes afterwards that she was aware of Colonel Fitzwilliam approaching her, guided by Miss Bingley, whose kindly intentions of making the occasion as ordinary as possible only served to intensify its discomfort. Georgiana, however, thought the fault all hers, as, not reassured at all by Caroline's cheerful "Colonel Fitzwilliam was so glad to hear you were staying with us, Georgiana," she found herself only just able to give him her hand with an almost inaudible greeting, while her face, suffused with deepest blushes, must, she felt, have made her noticeable to all around. It was Colonel Fitzwilliam's part to set her at her ease, which he did, to some extent with a few kindly and naturally-expressed sentences, inquiring about her journey, and the health of those she had left behind. Georgiana presently ventured to let her eyes rest on him, and was startled to see how much older he looked even in the short time since she'd seen him, and how ill and worn. A terror seized her heart that she might be guilty of these altered looks, but it passed in an instant; there was not any doubt that their parting had been for the good of both; but poor Cousin Robert, it was plain to see that he had been suffering, from whatever cause, and her sympathy went out to him unconsciously, even while she could hardly talk to him from embarrassment of knowing that Caroline Bingley was standing by, apparently occupied with other people, but drawing conclusions from every word she could hear. "I had intended coming to see you, anyhow, Georgiana," said Fitzwilliam, "but I am very busy, you know--I do not go out much; and you live in a perpetual whirl of gaiety, I expect." He smiled as he spoke, and Georgiana tried to answer in the same spirit, telling him that they had a good many plans, and people were very kind, but she was not really in a whirl, in fact, the very next morning she was leaving for Grosvenor Street for a few days, to spend them quietly with her old friend Mrs. Annesley, who lived in Hans Place, quite away from the bustle of London. "Mrs. Annesley?" repeated Fitzwilliam; "of course I remember her; she will enjoy having you, but how have Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley become reconciled to parting with you even for a week?" Georgiana explained hurriedly that it had been quite a sudden engagement; her old friend had been to see her, and had begged for a short visit from her, if possible, for Mrs. Annesley was on the point of going to India, to live with a married son who had lost his wife, and she might not have the opportunity of seeing her former pupil again for many years. Georgiana had been happy in the opportunity of going to her friend at such a time; her present hostesses had acquiesced, and a week was to be spared to Mrs. Annesley. "But it will be made up in Grosvenor Street next month, I assume," said Colonel Fitzwilliam. "I hardly know--I believe Elizabeth and my brother want me at home again soon--but of course I like being here too," said Georgiana, stumbling over her words, and feeling that she was disgracing herself. If only Caroline would not stand there and seem to be observing them so closely! She did not believe it would be so distressing to talk to Cousin Robert if only they could be together somewhere among strangers. This thought impelled her to ask him, quite at random, for she had every reason to know what his reply would be, whether he was going to Mrs. Knightley's ball. "I am afraid not, Georgiana. I think I am getting too old for balls; but I wish you a great deal of pleasure there." "Oh, Cousin Robert, you are not too old, but you--" she checked herself in this impetuous speech, and ended rather confusedly, "but you look tired"; which was not what she would have wished to say. Her cousin glanced kindly at her, but turned her remark off with a laugh; and as he seemed about to move away, Georgiana, in desperation, and astonished at herself, said timidly: "I hope we may meet again, even though you do not go to balls." "I hope so, too, Georgiana. But of course we shall. I must come some morning and take you all to Kensington Gardens." Georgiana felt that this would not be a great improvement on the present situation, but she could not say any more, and supposed their conversation was at an end, when Fitzwilliam, who had made a step from her, seemed struck with a sudden idea, and turned to her again, saying: "May I come and call on you at Mrs. Annesley's? She will perhaps remember me and--I may not be in town later on." Georgiana flushed with surprise and pleasure, and her eager assent left Fitzwilliam in no doubt as to his reception. He stayed only to assure himself of the number of Mrs. Annesley's house, then bowed and walked rapidly away, as Miss Bingley approached with the evident intention of breaking up their conclave. Georgiana had to submit to a certain amount of comment from the sisters, who, while condoling with her for having had to pass through a uncomfortable few minutes, appeared surprised that she should have been able to talk to Colonel Fitzwilliam, but she herself felt nothing but happiness in having met her cousin again, and found it possible to think of being on those terms with him that Elizabeth had predicted. She spent a part of the afternoon in writing a long letter to her sister, telling her what had happened; but she did not like to send an account of her cousin that might alarm them at home, so she contented herself with saying that he was not looking at all well, and that she wished Elizabeth would persuade him to go down to Pemberley, as he must be working too hard in London. She concluded her writing with the words, "I will leave this open till to-morrow, dear Elizabeth, that I may tell you about the ball, and how Kitty looked." Kitty, indeed, was the chief subject of her thoughts when they dwelt upon the prospect of the evening, and when the time for dressing arrived Kitty's rose-coloured silk occupied her mind far more than her own white satin and pearls. When Mr. and Mrs. Hurst's party entered the ante-room where Mrs. Knightley was receiving her guests, the two girls managed to exchange a few words, and Georgiana gathered that the hero of the evening had not yet appeared, but Kitty was separated from her by the crowd of arrivals, and so it eventually came about that it was their hostess who performed the introduction of Mr. William Price to Miss Darcy. Georgiana's first thought, when she looked at the noble brow and clear blue eye of the young man, was that Kitty's attachment was easily understood, and each moment that she spent in his company strengthened that assurance. She was desirous of liking him, eager to find everything to praise in the admired--and perhaps the admirer--of her friend, and the opportunity came at once in the infectious gaiety and good spirits of the young man and the unaffected warmth of his manner. He asked her for the honour of her hand in several dances; but the first two, she noticed, he danced with Kitty, and from the sparkle in Kitty's eye, and her quick movement as he approached to claim them, Georgiana conjectured that the engagement had been made previously. When Georgiana's turn came, among the excellencies that she discovered in her partner was that of being a perfect dancer; and, moreover, one who moved through the set as if he enjoyed every step. Somewhat shyly she commented on this. "Yes, indeed, Miss Darcy, I am fond of dancing; I began very early, when I was such a small person that you probably wouldn't have seen me in a room, much less have danced with me. We all used to jump about as children, I believe; and on board ship one somehow managed to learn, so as to be ready for the balls." "Were there balls so often?" asked Georgiana. "Yes; wherever we were stationed somebody always seized the opportunity to give a ball, either a private person, or the Governor, or the regiment, or someone. There seems to be a connection established in people's minds between naval men and dancing; anyhow, as soon as there were a few days' quiet, someone would produce musicians and a waxed floor, and we were expected to go and perform. So I decided that I had better like it." "You are a very fortunate person to be able to be able to like

woodhouse

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Brandon's death, that there had not been time for much intercourse between them and the Darcys, though Elizabeth had been greatly pleased with what she had seen of Mrs. Ferrars. Since the former's return from Bath, and after her experiences there of the other branch of the family, she could appreciate fully the immense superiority of the Edward Ferrars over their relations. Ferrars himself was too quiet, diffident, and reserved a man to recommend himself easily, but in his wife all recognized a woman of a rare and noble nature, distinguished alike by the sweetness of her character and by its strength. The Darcys rejoiced in the increased opportunities of meeting afforded by the presence of their guest, and various walks, drives and out-of-doors excursions were organized, for which the glorious weather of early June afforded every opportunity. The first diminution their party suffered was in the departure of Georgiana for London, which occurred on the seventeenth of the month. The visit had long been talked of, and Georgiana really looked forward with no little pleasure to seeing her old friends, for Caroline Bingley and Louisa took pains not to show to her, of whom they were exceedingly fond, the cold-hearted and worldly aspect of their dispositions; but when she found herself actually in the travelling carriage with Bingley, with her maid seated opposite, she felt, as she did every year, the sensation of leaving all that she cared for behind her, and of entering scenes alarming because unfamiliar. Bingley good-naturedly endeavoured to divert her in every way, talked of the pleasures awaiting her, and of the friends she would see in London, Kitty Bennet and Mrs. Annesley, besides her hostesses, and casually mentioned the possibility of her coming across Colonel Fitzwilliam. Georgiana had been prepared for this by Elizabeth, and had first shrunk from the idea; but afterwards became reconciled to the view put before her, that the first meeting, which must necessarily be painful, must come some time, and it would be best to get it over in a crowd, with a few ordinary words of greeting, which would put them on a comfortable footing for the future. She, therefore, made an effort to reply cheerfully to all Bingley's suggestions, and had not found the journey tedious when they drew up in Grosvenor Street in time for dinner on the third day. Caroline and Louisa could not make enough of her, and the evening was spent in talking over the plans they had formed for her amusement, and in detailing the engagements they had entered into. It soon appeared that the ball which Bingley had mentioned was on their list; for they were also acquainted with Mrs. George Knightley, whose entertainment it was, and had secured invitations from her for their brother and their young friend. Bingley inquired of the date of the ball, explaining how it affected his movements; and his sisters endeavoured to conceal their surprise on hearing that Miss Kitty Bennet was staying with the Knightleys. "I thought, when you spoke of coming to fetch her, Charles, that she was with her uncle and aunt in Gracechurch Street," said Miss Bingley. "To tell the truth, I was not very clear about it myself," returned Bingley. "Jane told me that she was going to stay over this ball, but whether she was with the Gardiners or the Knightleys I did not make out until just before we came away. It does not make a vast deal of difference, to my thinking." "There is certainly some difference; the Knightleys live in Portland Square, for one thing," replied Miss Bingley. "Do they? I am glad of that, for it means I shall not have to drive so far round to pick Kitty up," was Bingley's cheerful answer, and he moved away to speak to Mr. Hurst, leaving his sisters to their speculations as to how Miss Bennet could have come to know the George Knightleys. Georgiana did not know, but conjectured it was through Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner; and the ladies, though they refrained from showing their perplexity, were even more puzzled to account for the uncle who lived in Cheapside being acquainted with such people of fashion. "Have you seen anything of Fitzwilliam, Louisa?" inquired Bingley of his eldest sister, when he came to have his coffee-cup refilled. "Really, Charles, what a foolish question to ask," replied Mrs. Hurst, with affected carelessness. "Of course we see him frequently when he is in town." "Very good; I hope he will come round while I am here, and, if not, I shall get you to give me his direction, for I must certainly look him up before I go back." Mrs. Hurst made a vague answer, for both she and her sister were sincerely anxious to spare Georgiana any embarrassment, and they would not of their own accord have referred to Fitzwilliam until they knew how she was able to bear the mention of his name in public. Caroline immediately began speaking of another subject, but Georgiana, divining their intentions, felt that she must not indulge in a foolish sensibility which might give her friends a false impression of the state of things; so, summoning all her courage, she said, with a deep blush but a tolerably firm voice: "Yes, I hope my cousin may be in town this month. Elizabeth and my brother gave me many messages for him, if I should see him." She was conscious that the ladies were looking at her in surprise, but that Bingley noticed nothing but the amount of milk Louisa was putting in his coffee was a great help, and Caroline, the next moment, said quietly: "Oh, yes, no doubt he will call," which made it unnecessary for Georgiana to say any more. Bingley, having secured his cup, next produced a notebook and proceeded to write down the address of Fitzwilliam's lodgings and the name of his club, and, as an afterthought, the various engagements to which he had been pledged by his sisters. Georgiana found that Mrs. Hurst and Caroline were anxious she should go with them on the following day to call in Portman Square and meet Mrs. George Knightley. Mrs. Knightley, formerly Emma Woodhouse, had, since her marriage, been able to enjoy a larger measure of the social power and influence in the use of which she had always delighted. Since Mr. Woodhouse's death she had persuaded her husband to go into Parliament, and except for short visits to Donwell, they now lived entirely in London--an arrangement which just suited Emma, who had long desired some stir and variety in her life, after having spent so many unbroken years in a country village. Mr. Knightley still took the greatest interest in the farming of his property, and as soon as he was trustee to his sister-in-law, Mrs. John Knightley, for the estate of Hartfield, which had passed to her on her father's death, he found as much to do out of London as in it; while Emma, though fond of Donwell, had grown weary of the neighbourhood, and took a keen pleasure in forming round her in London a large circle of acquaintances, whom she loved to entertain, and in whose characters and careers she took the deepest interest. Mrs. Knightley's ball had become an annual fixture in the month of June, and this year she had a special incentive for giving it and for making it as gay as possible. At her sister's house she had met Mrs. Gardiner, whose husband had long been a close friend in business of Mr. John Knightley. Mrs. Gardiner was chaperoning a niece, Miss Catherine Bennet, a slender, blooming young girl, and pretty without being very striking; but Mrs. Knightley was impressed with her pleasing manners, and the enthusiasm with which she received the prospect of a theatre party which was being discussed on that occasion. It was the work of a moment for Emma to decide that she must ask her sister to bring Miss Bennet to the ball; but during the remainder of the evening, while she considered and observed, an improvement on the first idea suggested itself; Miss Bennet must be invited to stay in Portman Square for the great occasion. What better arrangement could there be? Isabella would not want to stay late, but young girls liked to dance till the last moment, and she, Emma, would have the benefit of Miss Bennet's help in the preparations, and would be able to introduce her to her partners beforehand. Yes, Miss Bennet was certainly very pretty, prettier than she had appeared at first--such a slim, upright figure, such a profusion of hair, such a delicate fairness of complexion; she would be a great success! It would be as delightful as when last year, the girl who was at the ball as Mrs. Knightley's special friend and prot g e had finished the evening triumphantly becoming engaged to the most eligible man present, Sir William Manvers. Emma felt a thrill at the recollection. The event had justified all her admiration for Sophia Lennox, and Mr. Knightley, who had been so sceptical, had been obliged to admit that sometimes people did marry those whom one had destined for them. There was no Sir William Manvers this year, it was true; but Miss Bennet was still young, and there was plenty of time for the right man to appear. In fact, it was really only her due that she should be properly taken out in London, in order that she might have every chance, and this her aunt, Mrs. Gardiner, was quite evidently not able to give her. What wonder that the upshot of these reflections was a courteous note to Mrs. Gardiner, begging for the pleasure of a visit from Miss Bennet as soon as her stay in Gracechurch Street should be concluded. Kitty was in transports of happiness when all was arranged and she found herself actually Mrs. George Knightley's guest, with a ball in prospect, and each day one round of visits and shopping and other delights, with intervals only long enough to admit of changing one elegant gown for another, for her mother and sisters had taken care she should be provided with an ample wardrobe. She soon ceased to regret not having been allowed to accompany Lydia to the West Indies, and before many days were over had discovered a reason to rejoice that she had not gone. Among Mrs. Knightley's frequent visitors at this time was a young naval lieutenant named William Price, whom she had met a short time previously at the house of the same Mr. Yates who had paid a visit to Bath in the preceding spring. Mr. Yates lived in Cavendish Square, and as his wife was a first cousin of William Price's, they had begged the young man to make their house his home whenever he happened to be in London. Young Price had lately been attached to a ship of the line, the _Andromeda_, which he had been obliged to put into Portsmouth for repairs, and he had been employing some of the period of his enforced leisure in taking up a course of signalling and gunnery, as he was extremely anxious to gain promotion as speedily as possible; but he had found that it was necessary to use other means than those of mere hard work, and at the present time he was living in London, keeping in touch with the Admiralty and endeavouring to recommend himself to every high official and person of influence with whom he could contrive to become acquainted. In the intervals he paid hasty visits to his sisters, who were settled in Northamptonshire, and to his mother at Portsmouth; and being a young man of excellent address, great charm of manner and marked abilities, he had gained a deserved popularity, and could not help enjoying the gaiety of London life, available to him through the hospitality of numerous friends. Mrs. Knightley was extremely pleased with him, and with his next brother, David, who was a clerk in the India Office, and both young men found it a very agreeable house to come to, especially when to the welcome of their hostess was added that of a pretty girl who, warm-hearted and impulsive, did not attempt to conceal her pleasure in their company. David Price was two or three years her junior, and in him Kitty Bennet found only a merry and boyish companion; but the manliness of the young sailor aroused different feelings, and it was not long before she realized that the visits of William Price were becoming the most important thing in her life. She dreamt of him before he came, she had no eyes for anyone else when he was present, and she treasured his words when he had gone; and although she could not honestly read into those words more than a passing friendliness, yet she allowed herself to cherish hopes that each _next_ time there might be something warmer. Poor Kitty had secretly longed to be married ever since she was sixteen; and now at last it seemed as if Destiny itself was working for her, in placing her with so kind a hostess, who was always giving invitations and affording opportunities, and in sending her such a splendid hero of romance to fall in love with, for a hero he was, of a campaign at sea, when he had distinguished himself as much by bravery as he had on shore by industry; a hero with good looks, an assured position, and prize-money saved, and at the present moment with nothing particular to do but fall in love with Miss Kitty Bennet! It was impossible not to feel, under the circumstances, that the course of events was plainly marked out. Mrs. Knightley certainly thought so too, and although she refrained from definite statements, her sympathetic attitude encouraged Kitty to talk herself into hope and self-confidence. The importance of the ball itself in the great scheme of things was not overlooked, and Emma even dreamt now of a brilliant d nouement like last year's. She had invited a large number of people, and was anxious to have as many dancing couples as possible, so Mrs. Hurst's request for permission to bring her brother and Miss Darcy was warmly acceded to, and it was only a matter of regret that their friend Colonel Fitzwilliam could not be induced to go to any balls this season. Kitty was delighted at the prospect of meeting Georgiana again, and when the call spoken of by Mrs. Hurst was being paid, on the day following Georgiana's arrival, she availed herself of a pause in the conversation, and a nod and a smile from Mrs. Knightley, to ask her friend to come to another room for a few moments, on the plea of showing her some new possessions. Georgiana duly admired the bonnets and pelisses, and the gold chain which was Mrs. Knightley's present, and the rose-coloured ball dress which was to make its first appearance on the much-talked-of occasion. Kitty's head was evidently full of this event; she dwelt on it constantly, and from her quick nervous manner Georgiana guessed at some kind of special preoccupation with the subject. "And so you are very happy here, Kitty? Perhaps I need not ask that," she said, as Kitty turned to unfold another new muslin gown. "Oh, very, very happy, perfectly happy," exclaimed Kitty with eagerness. "Mrs. Knightley is so kind, and such nice people come here, you have no idea, Georgiana. Now, do look; is not that beautiful? A real India muslin, and the colour just suits me. You ought to like it, for I bought it with some money Elizabeth gave me." "Yes, dear, I do like it, of course," returned Georgiana; "but tell me some more about yourself. How long were you with the Gardiners?" "I forget just how long, but I came here on the first of June. Oh, I do not know how ever I shall be able to leave! Georgiana, I must tell you! I have been longing to do so, and yet I do not know how I can, after all, for it has not really happened yet. "Of course you have guessed," she went on, in answer to Georgiana's affectionately inquiring glance; "it can only be one thing: but pray do not mention it to anyone, for no one has any idea of it except Mrs. Knightley. It is so wonderful! Georgiana, do you believe in love at first sight?" "I have never thought about it," answered Georgiana honestly, "but I should think it might be possible." "Indeed, indeed, it is possible! It does happen. When you see him, you will know how easily. You will see him on Tuesday night; I do wonder what you will think of him. You must be sure to tell me quite truthfully." "Dear Kitty, you cannot think how glad I am. You mean you are engaged, or just about to be?" "Oh, no, no, no!" exclaimed Kitty, "you do not understand. I think--I hope--but I do not even know if he cares. Sometimes I feel sure he does, and then, again, he seems to be perfectly indifferent, and it is so terrible then, more terrible than you can imagine. But you will see--you will judge for yourself; I shall depend so much upon you for comfort and counsel, especially if Bingley asks him to come down and stay at Desborough, as I mean to persuade him to do." Georgiana was not much enlightened, and her shyness and natural reserve made her hesitate to ask questions on such a subject, which, had she been Kitty, she could not have mentioned to any living creature. But Kitty was evidently longing for sympathy, and poured out her hopes and fears and her reasons for both, mingling with them a description of William Price, painted in the most vivid colours and emphasizing his courage and distinction as an officer, his amiability as a man, his perfection as a ball-room partner, and the high opinion Mr. Knightley and all sensible men had formed of him. Georgiana listened, and was interested almost against her will; she had known Kitty to take fancies several times before for persons who had not returned her regard or thought of doing so; but in this case, from what she could gather, the young man seemed really to deserve Kitty's enthusiasm; they had met under Mrs. Knightley's auspices, he had been very often at the house, and certainly, everything considered, it was much more likely that he should fall in love with Kitty than not. Nevertheless, she hardly knew how to answer her; to encourage her in hopes which might prove false would be the cruellest kindness, so, while, murmuring her wishes for her friend's happiness, she agreed that she must wait for the evening of the ball before she could really tell how far Kitty's dreams were likely to be realized. They talked so long that eventually she had to propose a return to the drawing-room, fearing to be guilty of discourtesy towards Mrs. Knightley; but she was glad that only a moment was left for Kitty's hurried inquiry about her own affairs, as they hastened down the staircase, and that she could therefore dismiss the subject with a light word. Kitty was scarcely satisfied, but finding that Georgiana could not be induced to speak of Colonel Fitzwilliam, returned to her own all-absorbing topic with the remark, "I do wish you could meet someone just like my dear Mr. Price!" Chapter IX The next few days passed rapidly for both girls, and were so full of engagements that they were not able to arrange another meeting, and Georgiana deeply regretted the fact that, except for a glimpse of her at the ball, she should not see Kitty again before Bingley's departure from town. She could only hope that all would go well, and looked forward to a fuller intercourse in Derbyshire in a few weeks' time. Meanwhile, there were many friends to see, and Georgiana would have enjoyed herself thoroughly had she not dreaded the first meeting with Colonel Fitzwilliam, which she felt hanging over her, since Bingley had called on the Colonel and reported him to be in town, but which she did not know when to expect. A slight change in her plans, necessitating a short absence from Mr. Hurst's house, led her to imagine that it would be temporarily averted; but on the very day of the ball, when she and her hostesses had remained at home, and a larger number of visitors than usual happened to be in the room, she experienced a painful shock on hearing his name announced and on seeing him walk into the room. Next moment she was angry with herself for losing her composure, even momentarily, and bracing herself for a possible encounter, she endeavoured to continue to bear her part in a conversation with two or three of Mrs. Hurst's friends, who, she realized gratefully, were strangers to her until that day. It was some minutes afterwards that she was aware of Colonel Fitzwilliam approaching her, guided by Miss Bingley, whose kindly intentions of making the occasion as ordinary as possible only served to intensify its discomfort. Georgiana, however, thought the fault all hers, as, not reassured at all by Caroline's cheerful "Colonel Fitzwilliam was so glad to hear you were staying with us, Georgiana," she found herself only just able to give him her hand with an almost inaudible greeting, while her face, suffused with deepest blushes, must, she felt, have made her noticeable to all around. It was Colonel Fitzwilliam's part to set her at her ease, which he did, to some extent with a few kindly and naturally-expressed sentences, inquiring about her journey, and the health of those she had left behind. Georgiana presently ventured to let her eyes rest on him, and was startled to see how much older he looked even in the short time since she'd seen him, and how ill and worn. A terror seized her heart that she might be guilty of these altered looks, but it passed in an instant; there was not any doubt that their parting had been for the good of both; but poor Cousin Robert, it was plain to see that he had been suffering, from whatever cause, and her sympathy went out to him unconsciously, even while she could hardly talk to him from embarrassment of knowing that Caroline Bingley was standing by, apparently occupied with other people, but drawing conclusions from every word she could hear. "I had intended coming to see you, anyhow, Georgiana," said Fitzwilliam, "but I am very busy, you know--I do not go out much; and you live in a perpetual whirl of gaiety, I expect." He smiled as he spoke, and Georgiana tried to answer in the same spirit, telling him that they had a good many plans, and people were very kind, but she was not really in a whirl, in fact, the very next morning she was leaving for Grosvenor Street for a few days, to spend them quietly with her old friend Mrs. Annesley, who lived in Hans Place, quite away from the bustle of London. "Mrs. Annesley?" repeated Fitzwilliam; "of course I remember her; she will enjoy having you, but how have Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley become reconciled to parting with you even for a week?" Georgiana explained hurriedly that it had been quite a sudden engagement; her old friend had been to see her, and had begged for a short visit from her, if possible, for Mrs. Annesley was on the point of going to India, to live with a married son who had lost his wife, and she might not have the opportunity of seeing her former pupil again for many years. Georgiana had been happy in the opportunity of going to her friend at such a time; her present hostesses had acquiesced, and a week was to be spared to Mrs. Annesley. "But it will be made up in Grosvenor Street next month, I assume," said Colonel Fitzwilliam. "I hardly know--I believe Elizabeth and my brother want me at home again soon--but of course I like being here too," said Georgiana, stumbling over her words, and feeling that she was disgracing herself. If only Caroline would not stand there and seem to be observing them so closely! She did not believe it would be so distressing to talk to Cousin Robert if only they could be together somewhere among strangers. This thought impelled her to ask him, quite at random, for she had every reason to know what his reply would be, whether he was going to Mrs. Knightley's ball. "I am afraid not, Georgiana. I think I am getting too old for balls; but I wish you a great deal of pleasure there." "Oh, Cousin Robert, you are not too old, but you--" she checked herself in this impetuous speech, and ended rather confusedly, "but you look tired"; which was not what she would have wished to say. Her cousin glanced kindly at her, but turned her remark off with a laugh; and as he seemed about to move away, Georgiana, in desperation, and astonished at herself, said timidly: "I hope we may meet again, even though you do not go to balls." "I hope so, too, Georgiana. But of course we shall. I must come some morning and take you all to Kensington Gardens." Georgiana felt that this would not be a great improvement on the present situation, but she could not say any more, and supposed their conversation was at an end, when Fitzwilliam, who had made a step from her, seemed struck with a sudden idea, and turned to her again, saying: "May I come and call on you at Mrs. Annesley's? She will perhaps remember me and--I may not be in town later on." Georgiana flushed with surprise and pleasure, and her eager assent left Fitzwilliam in no doubt as to his reception. He stayed only to assure himself of the number of Mrs. Annesley's house, then bowed and walked rapidly away, as Miss Bingley approached with the evident intention of breaking up their conclave. Georgiana had to submit to a certain amount of comment from the sisters, who, while condoling with her for having had to pass through a uncomfortable few minutes, appeared surprised that she should have been able to talk to Colonel Fitzwilliam, but she herself felt nothing but happiness in having met her cousin again, and found it possible to think of being on those terms with him that Elizabeth had predicted. She spent a part of the afternoon in writing a long letter to her sister, telling her what had happened; but she did not like to send an account of her cousin that might alarm them at home, so she contented herself with saying that he was not looking at all well, and that she wished Elizabeth would persuade him to go down to Pemberley, as he must be working too hard in London. She concluded her writing with the words, "I will leave this open till to-morrow, dear Elizabeth, that I may tell you about the ball, and how Kitty looked." Kitty, indeed, was the chief subject of her thoughts when they dwelt upon the prospect of the evening, and when the time for dressing arrived Kitty's rose-coloured silk occupied her mind far more than her own white satin and pearls. When Mr. and Mrs. Hurst's party entered the ante-room where Mrs. Knightley was receiving her guests, the two girls managed to exchange a few words, and Georgiana gathered that the hero of the evening had not yet appeared, but Kitty was separated from her by the crowd of arrivals, and so it eventually came about that it was their hostess who performed the introduction of Mr. William Price to Miss Darcy. Georgiana's first thought, when she looked at the noble brow and clear blue eye of the young man, was that Kitty's attachment was easily understood, and each moment that she spent in his company strengthened that assurance. She was desirous of liking him, eager to find everything to praise in the admired--and perhaps the admirer--of her friend, and the opportunity came at once in the infectious gaiety and good spirits of the young man and the unaffected warmth of his manner. He asked her for the honour of her hand in several dances; but the first two, she noticed, he danced with Kitty, and from the sparkle in Kitty's eye, and her quick movement as he approached to claim them, Georgiana conjectured that the engagement had been made previously. When Georgiana's turn came, among the excellencies that she discovered in her partner was that of being a perfect dancer; and, moreover, one who moved through the set as if he enjoyed every step. Somewhat shyly she commented on this. "Yes, indeed, Miss Darcy, I am fond of dancing; I began very early, when I was such a small person that you probably wouldn't have seen me in a room, much less have danced with me. We all used to jump about as children, I believe; and on board ship one somehow managed to learn, so as to be ready for the balls." "Were there balls so often?" asked Georgiana. "Yes; wherever we were stationed somebody always seized the opportunity to give a ball, either a private person, or the Governor, or the regiment, or someone. There seems to be a connection established in people's minds between naval men and dancing; anyhow, as soon as there were a few days' quiet, someone would produce musicians and a waxed floor, and we were expected to go and perform. So I decided that I had better like it." "You are a very fortunate person to be able to be able to like

since

How many times the word 'since' appears in the text?

Brandon's death, that there had not been time for much intercourse between them and the Darcys, though Elizabeth had been greatly pleased with what she had seen of Mrs. Ferrars. Since the former's return from Bath, and after her experiences there of the other branch of the family, she could appreciate fully the immense superiority of the Edward Ferrars over their relations. Ferrars himself was too quiet, diffident, and reserved a man to recommend himself easily, but in his wife all recognized a woman of a rare and noble nature, distinguished alike by the sweetness of her character and by its strength. The Darcys rejoiced in the increased opportunities of meeting afforded by the presence of their guest, and various walks, drives and out-of-doors excursions were organized, for which the glorious weather of early June afforded every opportunity. The first diminution their party suffered was in the departure of Georgiana for London, which occurred on the seventeenth of the month. The visit had long been talked of, and Georgiana really looked forward with no little pleasure to seeing her old friends, for Caroline Bingley and Louisa took pains not to show to her, of whom they were exceedingly fond, the cold-hearted and worldly aspect of their dispositions; but when she found herself actually in the travelling carriage with Bingley, with her maid seated opposite, she felt, as she did every year, the sensation of leaving all that she cared for behind her, and of entering scenes alarming because unfamiliar. Bingley good-naturedly endeavoured to divert her in every way, talked of the pleasures awaiting her, and of the friends she would see in London, Kitty Bennet and Mrs. Annesley, besides her hostesses, and casually mentioned the possibility of her coming across Colonel Fitzwilliam. Georgiana had been prepared for this by Elizabeth, and had first shrunk from the idea; but afterwards became reconciled to the view put before her, that the first meeting, which must necessarily be painful, must come some time, and it would be best to get it over in a crowd, with a few ordinary words of greeting, which would put them on a comfortable footing for the future. She, therefore, made an effort to reply cheerfully to all Bingley's suggestions, and had not found the journey tedious when they drew up in Grosvenor Street in time for dinner on the third day. Caroline and Louisa could not make enough of her, and the evening was spent in talking over the plans they had formed for her amusement, and in detailing the engagements they had entered into. It soon appeared that the ball which Bingley had mentioned was on their list; for they were also acquainted with Mrs. George Knightley, whose entertainment it was, and had secured invitations from her for their brother and their young friend. Bingley inquired of the date of the ball, explaining how it affected his movements; and his sisters endeavoured to conceal their surprise on hearing that Miss Kitty Bennet was staying with the Knightleys. "I thought, when you spoke of coming to fetch her, Charles, that she was with her uncle and aunt in Gracechurch Street," said Miss Bingley. "To tell the truth, I was not very clear about it myself," returned Bingley. "Jane told me that she was going to stay over this ball, but whether she was with the Gardiners or the Knightleys I did not make out until just before we came away. It does not make a vast deal of difference, to my thinking." "There is certainly some difference; the Knightleys live in Portland Square, for one thing," replied Miss Bingley. "Do they? I am glad of that, for it means I shall not have to drive so far round to pick Kitty up," was Bingley's cheerful answer, and he moved away to speak to Mr. Hurst, leaving his sisters to their speculations as to how Miss Bennet could have come to know the George Knightleys. Georgiana did not know, but conjectured it was through Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner; and the ladies, though they refrained from showing their perplexity, were even more puzzled to account for the uncle who lived in Cheapside being acquainted with such people of fashion. "Have you seen anything of Fitzwilliam, Louisa?" inquired Bingley of his eldest sister, when he came to have his coffee-cup refilled. "Really, Charles, what a foolish question to ask," replied Mrs. Hurst, with affected carelessness. "Of course we see him frequently when he is in town." "Very good; I hope he will come round while I am here, and, if not, I shall get you to give me his direction, for I must certainly look him up before I go back." Mrs. Hurst made a vague answer, for both she and her sister were sincerely anxious to spare Georgiana any embarrassment, and they would not of their own accord have referred to Fitzwilliam until they knew how she was able to bear the mention of his name in public. Caroline immediately began speaking of another subject, but Georgiana, divining their intentions, felt that she must not indulge in a foolish sensibility which might give her friends a false impression of the state of things; so, summoning all her courage, she said, with a deep blush but a tolerably firm voice: "Yes, I hope my cousin may be in town this month. Elizabeth and my brother gave me many messages for him, if I should see him." She was conscious that the ladies were looking at her in surprise, but that Bingley noticed nothing but the amount of milk Louisa was putting in his coffee was a great help, and Caroline, the next moment, said quietly: "Oh, yes, no doubt he will call," which made it unnecessary for Georgiana to say any more. Bingley, having secured his cup, next produced a notebook and proceeded to write down the address of Fitzwilliam's lodgings and the name of his club, and, as an afterthought, the various engagements to which he had been pledged by his sisters. Georgiana found that Mrs. Hurst and Caroline were anxious she should go with them on the following day to call in Portman Square and meet Mrs. George Knightley. Mrs. Knightley, formerly Emma Woodhouse, had, since her marriage, been able to enjoy a larger measure of the social power and influence in the use of which she had always delighted. Since Mr. Woodhouse's death she had persuaded her husband to go into Parliament, and except for short visits to Donwell, they now lived entirely in London--an arrangement which just suited Emma, who had long desired some stir and variety in her life, after having spent so many unbroken years in a country village. Mr. Knightley still took the greatest interest in the farming of his property, and as soon as he was trustee to his sister-in-law, Mrs. John Knightley, for the estate of Hartfield, which had passed to her on her father's death, he found as much to do out of London as in it; while Emma, though fond of Donwell, had grown weary of the neighbourhood, and took a keen pleasure in forming round her in London a large circle of acquaintances, whom she loved to entertain, and in whose characters and careers she took the deepest interest. Mrs. Knightley's ball had become an annual fixture in the month of June, and this year she had a special incentive for giving it and for making it as gay as possible. At her sister's house she had met Mrs. Gardiner, whose husband had long been a close friend in business of Mr. John Knightley. Mrs. Gardiner was chaperoning a niece, Miss Catherine Bennet, a slender, blooming young girl, and pretty without being very striking; but Mrs. Knightley was impressed with her pleasing manners, and the enthusiasm with which she received the prospect of a theatre party which was being discussed on that occasion. It was the work of a moment for Emma to decide that she must ask her sister to bring Miss Bennet to the ball; but during the remainder of the evening, while she considered and observed, an improvement on the first idea suggested itself; Miss Bennet must be invited to stay in Portman Square for the great occasion. What better arrangement could there be? Isabella would not want to stay late, but young girls liked to dance till the last moment, and she, Emma, would have the benefit of Miss Bennet's help in the preparations, and would be able to introduce her to her partners beforehand. Yes, Miss Bennet was certainly very pretty, prettier than she had appeared at first--such a slim, upright figure, such a profusion of hair, such a delicate fairness of complexion; she would be a great success! It would be as delightful as when last year, the girl who was at the ball as Mrs. Knightley's special friend and prot g e had finished the evening triumphantly becoming engaged to the most eligible man present, Sir William Manvers. Emma felt a thrill at the recollection. The event had justified all her admiration for Sophia Lennox, and Mr. Knightley, who had been so sceptical, had been obliged to admit that sometimes people did marry those whom one had destined for them. There was no Sir William Manvers this year, it was true; but Miss Bennet was still young, and there was plenty of time for the right man to appear. In fact, it was really only her due that she should be properly taken out in London, in order that she might have every chance, and this her aunt, Mrs. Gardiner, was quite evidently not able to give her. What wonder that the upshot of these reflections was a courteous note to Mrs. Gardiner, begging for the pleasure of a visit from Miss Bennet as soon as her stay in Gracechurch Street should be concluded. Kitty was in transports of happiness when all was arranged and she found herself actually Mrs. George Knightley's guest, with a ball in prospect, and each day one round of visits and shopping and other delights, with intervals only long enough to admit of changing one elegant gown for another, for her mother and sisters had taken care she should be provided with an ample wardrobe. She soon ceased to regret not having been allowed to accompany Lydia to the West Indies, and before many days were over had discovered a reason to rejoice that she had not gone. Among Mrs. Knightley's frequent visitors at this time was a young naval lieutenant named William Price, whom she had met a short time previously at the house of the same Mr. Yates who had paid a visit to Bath in the preceding spring. Mr. Yates lived in Cavendish Square, and as his wife was a first cousin of William Price's, they had begged the young man to make their house his home whenever he happened to be in London. Young Price had lately been attached to a ship of the line, the _Andromeda_, which he had been obliged to put into Portsmouth for repairs, and he had been employing some of the period of his enforced leisure in taking up a course of signalling and gunnery, as he was extremely anxious to gain promotion as speedily as possible; but he had found that it was necessary to use other means than those of mere hard work, and at the present time he was living in London, keeping in touch with the Admiralty and endeavouring to recommend himself to every high official and person of influence with whom he could contrive to become acquainted. In the intervals he paid hasty visits to his sisters, who were settled in Northamptonshire, and to his mother at Portsmouth; and being a young man of excellent address, great charm of manner and marked abilities, he had gained a deserved popularity, and could not help enjoying the gaiety of London life, available to him through the hospitality of numerous friends. Mrs. Knightley was extremely pleased with him, and with his next brother, David, who was a clerk in the India Office, and both young men found it a very agreeable house to come to, especially when to the welcome of their hostess was added that of a pretty girl who, warm-hearted and impulsive, did not attempt to conceal her pleasure in their company. David Price was two or three years her junior, and in him Kitty Bennet found only a merry and boyish companion; but the manliness of the young sailor aroused different feelings, and it was not long before she realized that the visits of William Price were becoming the most important thing in her life. She dreamt of him before he came, she had no eyes for anyone else when he was present, and she treasured his words when he had gone; and although she could not honestly read into those words more than a passing friendliness, yet she allowed herself to cherish hopes that each _next_ time there might be something warmer. Poor Kitty had secretly longed to be married ever since she was sixteen; and now at last it seemed as if Destiny itself was working for her, in placing her with so kind a hostess, who was always giving invitations and affording opportunities, and in sending her such a splendid hero of romance to fall in love with, for a hero he was, of a campaign at sea, when he had distinguished himself as much by bravery as he had on shore by industry; a hero with good looks, an assured position, and prize-money saved, and at the present moment with nothing particular to do but fall in love with Miss Kitty Bennet! It was impossible not to feel, under the circumstances, that the course of events was plainly marked out. Mrs. Knightley certainly thought so too, and although she refrained from definite statements, her sympathetic attitude encouraged Kitty to talk herself into hope and self-confidence. The importance of the ball itself in the great scheme of things was not overlooked, and Emma even dreamt now of a brilliant d nouement like last year's. She had invited a large number of people, and was anxious to have as many dancing couples as possible, so Mrs. Hurst's request for permission to bring her brother and Miss Darcy was warmly acceded to, and it was only a matter of regret that their friend Colonel Fitzwilliam could not be induced to go to any balls this season. Kitty was delighted at the prospect of meeting Georgiana again, and when the call spoken of by Mrs. Hurst was being paid, on the day following Georgiana's arrival, she availed herself of a pause in the conversation, and a nod and a smile from Mrs. Knightley, to ask her friend to come to another room for a few moments, on the plea of showing her some new possessions. Georgiana duly admired the bonnets and pelisses, and the gold chain which was Mrs. Knightley's present, and the rose-coloured ball dress which was to make its first appearance on the much-talked-of occasion. Kitty's head was evidently full of this event; she dwelt on it constantly, and from her quick nervous manner Georgiana guessed at some kind of special preoccupation with the subject. "And so you are very happy here, Kitty? Perhaps I need not ask that," she said, as Kitty turned to unfold another new muslin gown. "Oh, very, very happy, perfectly happy," exclaimed Kitty with eagerness. "Mrs. Knightley is so kind, and such nice people come here, you have no idea, Georgiana. Now, do look; is not that beautiful? A real India muslin, and the colour just suits me. You ought to like it, for I bought it with some money Elizabeth gave me." "Yes, dear, I do like it, of course," returned Georgiana; "but tell me some more about yourself. How long were you with the Gardiners?" "I forget just how long, but I came here on the first of June. Oh, I do not know how ever I shall be able to leave! Georgiana, I must tell you! I have been longing to do so, and yet I do not know how I can, after all, for it has not really happened yet. "Of course you have guessed," she went on, in answer to Georgiana's affectionately inquiring glance; "it can only be one thing: but pray do not mention it to anyone, for no one has any idea of it except Mrs. Knightley. It is so wonderful! Georgiana, do you believe in love at first sight?" "I have never thought about it," answered Georgiana honestly, "but I should think it might be possible." "Indeed, indeed, it is possible! It does happen. When you see him, you will know how easily. You will see him on Tuesday night; I do wonder what you will think of him. You must be sure to tell me quite truthfully." "Dear Kitty, you cannot think how glad I am. You mean you are engaged, or just about to be?" "Oh, no, no, no!" exclaimed Kitty, "you do not understand. I think--I hope--but I do not even know if he cares. Sometimes I feel sure he does, and then, again, he seems to be perfectly indifferent, and it is so terrible then, more terrible than you can imagine. But you will see--you will judge for yourself; I shall depend so much upon you for comfort and counsel, especially if Bingley asks him to come down and stay at Desborough, as I mean to persuade him to do." Georgiana was not much enlightened, and her shyness and natural reserve made her hesitate to ask questions on such a subject, which, had she been Kitty, she could not have mentioned to any living creature. But Kitty was evidently longing for sympathy, and poured out her hopes and fears and her reasons for both, mingling with them a description of William Price, painted in the most vivid colours and emphasizing his courage and distinction as an officer, his amiability as a man, his perfection as a ball-room partner, and the high opinion Mr. Knightley and all sensible men had formed of him. Georgiana listened, and was interested almost against her will; she had known Kitty to take fancies several times before for persons who had not returned her regard or thought of doing so; but in this case, from what she could gather, the young man seemed really to deserve Kitty's enthusiasm; they had met under Mrs. Knightley's auspices, he had been very often at the house, and certainly, everything considered, it was much more likely that he should fall in love with Kitty than not. Nevertheless, she hardly knew how to answer her; to encourage her in hopes which might prove false would be the cruellest kindness, so, while, murmuring her wishes for her friend's happiness, she agreed that she must wait for the evening of the ball before she could really tell how far Kitty's dreams were likely to be realized. They talked so long that eventually she had to propose a return to the drawing-room, fearing to be guilty of discourtesy towards Mrs. Knightley; but she was glad that only a moment was left for Kitty's hurried inquiry about her own affairs, as they hastened down the staircase, and that she could therefore dismiss the subject with a light word. Kitty was scarcely satisfied, but finding that Georgiana could not be induced to speak of Colonel Fitzwilliam, returned to her own all-absorbing topic with the remark, "I do wish you could meet someone just like my dear Mr. Price!" Chapter IX The next few days passed rapidly for both girls, and were so full of engagements that they were not able to arrange another meeting, and Georgiana deeply regretted the fact that, except for a glimpse of her at the ball, she should not see Kitty again before Bingley's departure from town. She could only hope that all would go well, and looked forward to a fuller intercourse in Derbyshire in a few weeks' time. Meanwhile, there were many friends to see, and Georgiana would have enjoyed herself thoroughly had she not dreaded the first meeting with Colonel Fitzwilliam, which she felt hanging over her, since Bingley had called on the Colonel and reported him to be in town, but which she did not know when to expect. A slight change in her plans, necessitating a short absence from Mr. Hurst's house, led her to imagine that it would be temporarily averted; but on the very day of the ball, when she and her hostesses had remained at home, and a larger number of visitors than usual happened to be in the room, she experienced a painful shock on hearing his name announced and on seeing him walk into the room. Next moment she was angry with herself for losing her composure, even momentarily, and bracing herself for a possible encounter, she endeavoured to continue to bear her part in a conversation with two or three of Mrs. Hurst's friends, who, she realized gratefully, were strangers to her until that day. It was some minutes afterwards that she was aware of Colonel Fitzwilliam approaching her, guided by Miss Bingley, whose kindly intentions of making the occasion as ordinary as possible only served to intensify its discomfort. Georgiana, however, thought the fault all hers, as, not reassured at all by Caroline's cheerful "Colonel Fitzwilliam was so glad to hear you were staying with us, Georgiana," she found herself only just able to give him her hand with an almost inaudible greeting, while her face, suffused with deepest blushes, must, she felt, have made her noticeable to all around. It was Colonel Fitzwilliam's part to set her at her ease, which he did, to some extent with a few kindly and naturally-expressed sentences, inquiring about her journey, and the health of those she had left behind. Georgiana presently ventured to let her eyes rest on him, and was startled to see how much older he looked even in the short time since she'd seen him, and how ill and worn. A terror seized her heart that she might be guilty of these altered looks, but it passed in an instant; there was not any doubt that their parting had been for the good of both; but poor Cousin Robert, it was plain to see that he had been suffering, from whatever cause, and her sympathy went out to him unconsciously, even while she could hardly talk to him from embarrassment of knowing that Caroline Bingley was standing by, apparently occupied with other people, but drawing conclusions from every word she could hear. "I had intended coming to see you, anyhow, Georgiana," said Fitzwilliam, "but I am very busy, you know--I do not go out much; and you live in a perpetual whirl of gaiety, I expect." He smiled as he spoke, and Georgiana tried to answer in the same spirit, telling him that they had a good many plans, and people were very kind, but she was not really in a whirl, in fact, the very next morning she was leaving for Grosvenor Street for a few days, to spend them quietly with her old friend Mrs. Annesley, who lived in Hans Place, quite away from the bustle of London. "Mrs. Annesley?" repeated Fitzwilliam; "of course I remember her; she will enjoy having you, but how have Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley become reconciled to parting with you even for a week?" Georgiana explained hurriedly that it had been quite a sudden engagement; her old friend had been to see her, and had begged for a short visit from her, if possible, for Mrs. Annesley was on the point of going to India, to live with a married son who had lost his wife, and she might not have the opportunity of seeing her former pupil again for many years. Georgiana had been happy in the opportunity of going to her friend at such a time; her present hostesses had acquiesced, and a week was to be spared to Mrs. Annesley. "But it will be made up in Grosvenor Street next month, I assume," said Colonel Fitzwilliam. "I hardly know--I believe Elizabeth and my brother want me at home again soon--but of course I like being here too," said Georgiana, stumbling over her words, and feeling that she was disgracing herself. If only Caroline would not stand there and seem to be observing them so closely! She did not believe it would be so distressing to talk to Cousin Robert if only they could be together somewhere among strangers. This thought impelled her to ask him, quite at random, for she had every reason to know what his reply would be, whether he was going to Mrs. Knightley's ball. "I am afraid not, Georgiana. I think I am getting too old for balls; but I wish you a great deal of pleasure there." "Oh, Cousin Robert, you are not too old, but you--" she checked herself in this impetuous speech, and ended rather confusedly, "but you look tired"; which was not what she would have wished to say. Her cousin glanced kindly at her, but turned her remark off with a laugh; and as he seemed about to move away, Georgiana, in desperation, and astonished at herself, said timidly: "I hope we may meet again, even though you do not go to balls." "I hope so, too, Georgiana. But of course we shall. I must come some morning and take you all to Kensington Gardens." Georgiana felt that this would not be a great improvement on the present situation, but she could not say any more, and supposed their conversation was at an end, when Fitzwilliam, who had made a step from her, seemed struck with a sudden idea, and turned to her again, saying: "May I come and call on you at Mrs. Annesley's? She will perhaps remember me and--I may not be in town later on." Georgiana flushed with surprise and pleasure, and her eager assent left Fitzwilliam in no doubt as to his reception. He stayed only to assure himself of the number of Mrs. Annesley's house, then bowed and walked rapidly away, as Miss Bingley approached with the evident intention of breaking up their conclave. Georgiana had to submit to a certain amount of comment from the sisters, who, while condoling with her for having had to pass through a uncomfortable few minutes, appeared surprised that she should have been able to talk to Colonel Fitzwilliam, but she herself felt nothing but happiness in having met her cousin again, and found it possible to think of being on those terms with him that Elizabeth had predicted. She spent a part of the afternoon in writing a long letter to her sister, telling her what had happened; but she did not like to send an account of her cousin that might alarm them at home, so she contented herself with saying that he was not looking at all well, and that she wished Elizabeth would persuade him to go down to Pemberley, as he must be working too hard in London. She concluded her writing with the words, "I will leave this open till to-morrow, dear Elizabeth, that I may tell you about the ball, and how Kitty looked." Kitty, indeed, was the chief subject of her thoughts when they dwelt upon the prospect of the evening, and when the time for dressing arrived Kitty's rose-coloured silk occupied her mind far more than her own white satin and pearls. When Mr. and Mrs. Hurst's party entered the ante-room where Mrs. Knightley was receiving her guests, the two girls managed to exchange a few words, and Georgiana gathered that the hero of the evening had not yet appeared, but Kitty was separated from her by the crowd of arrivals, and so it eventually came about that it was their hostess who performed the introduction of Mr. William Price to Miss Darcy. Georgiana's first thought, when she looked at the noble brow and clear blue eye of the young man, was that Kitty's attachment was easily understood, and each moment that she spent in his company strengthened that assurance. She was desirous of liking him, eager to find everything to praise in the admired--and perhaps the admirer--of her friend, and the opportunity came at once in the infectious gaiety and good spirits of the young man and the unaffected warmth of his manner. He asked her for the honour of her hand in several dances; but the first two, she noticed, he danced with Kitty, and from the sparkle in Kitty's eye, and her quick movement as he approached to claim them, Georgiana conjectured that the engagement had been made previously. When Georgiana's turn came, among the excellencies that she discovered in her partner was that of being a perfect dancer; and, moreover, one who moved through the set as if he enjoyed every step. Somewhat shyly she commented on this. "Yes, indeed, Miss Darcy, I am fond of dancing; I began very early, when I was such a small person that you probably wouldn't have seen me in a room, much less have danced with me. We all used to jump about as children, I believe; and on board ship one somehow managed to learn, so as to be ready for the balls." "Were there balls so often?" asked Georgiana. "Yes; wherever we were stationed somebody always seized the opportunity to give a ball, either a private person, or the Governor, or the regiment, or someone. There seems to be a connection established in people's minds between naval men and dancing; anyhow, as soon as there were a few days' quiet, someone would produce musicians and a waxed floor, and we were expected to go and perform. So I decided that I had better like it." "You are a very fortunate person to be able to be able to like

thing

How many times the word 'thing' appears in the text?

Brandon's death, that there had not been time for much intercourse between them and the Darcys, though Elizabeth had been greatly pleased with what she had seen of Mrs. Ferrars. Since the former's return from Bath, and after her experiences there of the other branch of the family, she could appreciate fully the immense superiority of the Edward Ferrars over their relations. Ferrars himself was too quiet, diffident, and reserved a man to recommend himself easily, but in his wife all recognized a woman of a rare and noble nature, distinguished alike by the sweetness of her character and by its strength. The Darcys rejoiced in the increased opportunities of meeting afforded by the presence of their guest, and various walks, drives and out-of-doors excursions were organized, for which the glorious weather of early June afforded every opportunity. The first diminution their party suffered was in the departure of Georgiana for London, which occurred on the seventeenth of the month. The visit had long been talked of, and Georgiana really looked forward with no little pleasure to seeing her old friends, for Caroline Bingley and Louisa took pains not to show to her, of whom they were exceedingly fond, the cold-hearted and worldly aspect of their dispositions; but when she found herself actually in the travelling carriage with Bingley, with her maid seated opposite, she felt, as she did every year, the sensation of leaving all that she cared for behind her, and of entering scenes alarming because unfamiliar. Bingley good-naturedly endeavoured to divert her in every way, talked of the pleasures awaiting her, and of the friends she would see in London, Kitty Bennet and Mrs. Annesley, besides her hostesses, and casually mentioned the possibility of her coming across Colonel Fitzwilliam. Georgiana had been prepared for this by Elizabeth, and had first shrunk from the idea; but afterwards became reconciled to the view put before her, that the first meeting, which must necessarily be painful, must come some time, and it would be best to get it over in a crowd, with a few ordinary words of greeting, which would put them on a comfortable footing for the future. She, therefore, made an effort to reply cheerfully to all Bingley's suggestions, and had not found the journey tedious when they drew up in Grosvenor Street in time for dinner on the third day. Caroline and Louisa could not make enough of her, and the evening was spent in talking over the plans they had formed for her amusement, and in detailing the engagements they had entered into. It soon appeared that the ball which Bingley had mentioned was on their list; for they were also acquainted with Mrs. George Knightley, whose entertainment it was, and had secured invitations from her for their brother and their young friend. Bingley inquired of the date of the ball, explaining how it affected his movements; and his sisters endeavoured to conceal their surprise on hearing that Miss Kitty Bennet was staying with the Knightleys. "I thought, when you spoke of coming to fetch her, Charles, that she was with her uncle and aunt in Gracechurch Street," said Miss Bingley. "To tell the truth, I was not very clear about it myself," returned Bingley. "Jane told me that she was going to stay over this ball, but whether she was with the Gardiners or the Knightleys I did not make out until just before we came away. It does not make a vast deal of difference, to my thinking." "There is certainly some difference; the Knightleys live in Portland Square, for one thing," replied Miss Bingley. "Do they? I am glad of that, for it means I shall not have to drive so far round to pick Kitty up," was Bingley's cheerful answer, and he moved away to speak to Mr. Hurst, leaving his sisters to their speculations as to how Miss Bennet could have come to know the George Knightleys. Georgiana did not know, but conjectured it was through Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner; and the ladies, though they refrained from showing their perplexity, were even more puzzled to account for the uncle who lived in Cheapside being acquainted with such people of fashion. "Have you seen anything of Fitzwilliam, Louisa?" inquired Bingley of his eldest sister, when he came to have his coffee-cup refilled. "Really, Charles, what a foolish question to ask," replied Mrs. Hurst, with affected carelessness. "Of course we see him frequently when he is in town." "Very good; I hope he will come round while I am here, and, if not, I shall get you to give me his direction, for I must certainly look him up before I go back." Mrs. Hurst made a vague answer, for both she and her sister were sincerely anxious to spare Georgiana any embarrassment, and they would not of their own accord have referred to Fitzwilliam until they knew how she was able to bear the mention of his name in public. Caroline immediately began speaking of another subject, but Georgiana, divining their intentions, felt that she must not indulge in a foolish sensibility which might give her friends a false impression of the state of things; so, summoning all her courage, she said, with a deep blush but a tolerably firm voice: "Yes, I hope my cousin may be in town this month. Elizabeth and my brother gave me many messages for him, if I should see him." She was conscious that the ladies were looking at her in surprise, but that Bingley noticed nothing but the amount of milk Louisa was putting in his coffee was a great help, and Caroline, the next moment, said quietly: "Oh, yes, no doubt he will call," which made it unnecessary for Georgiana to say any more. Bingley, having secured his cup, next produced a notebook and proceeded to write down the address of Fitzwilliam's lodgings and the name of his club, and, as an afterthought, the various engagements to which he had been pledged by his sisters. Georgiana found that Mrs. Hurst and Caroline were anxious she should go with them on the following day to call in Portman Square and meet Mrs. George Knightley. Mrs. Knightley, formerly Emma Woodhouse, had, since her marriage, been able to enjoy a larger measure of the social power and influence in the use of which she had always delighted. Since Mr. Woodhouse's death she had persuaded her husband to go into Parliament, and except for short visits to Donwell, they now lived entirely in London--an arrangement which just suited Emma, who had long desired some stir and variety in her life, after having spent so many unbroken years in a country village. Mr. Knightley still took the greatest interest in the farming of his property, and as soon as he was trustee to his sister-in-law, Mrs. John Knightley, for the estate of Hartfield, which had passed to her on her father's death, he found as much to do out of London as in it; while Emma, though fond of Donwell, had grown weary of the neighbourhood, and took a keen pleasure in forming round her in London a large circle of acquaintances, whom she loved to entertain, and in whose characters and careers she took the deepest interest. Mrs. Knightley's ball had become an annual fixture in the month of June, and this year she had a special incentive for giving it and for making it as gay as possible. At her sister's house she had met Mrs. Gardiner, whose husband had long been a close friend in business of Mr. John Knightley. Mrs. Gardiner was chaperoning a niece, Miss Catherine Bennet, a slender, blooming young girl, and pretty without being very striking; but Mrs. Knightley was impressed with her pleasing manners, and the enthusiasm with which she received the prospect of a theatre party which was being discussed on that occasion. It was the work of a moment for Emma to decide that she must ask her sister to bring Miss Bennet to the ball; but during the remainder of the evening, while she considered and observed, an improvement on the first idea suggested itself; Miss Bennet must be invited to stay in Portman Square for the great occasion. What better arrangement could there be? Isabella would not want to stay late, but young girls liked to dance till the last moment, and she, Emma, would have the benefit of Miss Bennet's help in the preparations, and would be able to introduce her to her partners beforehand. Yes, Miss Bennet was certainly very pretty, prettier than she had appeared at first--such a slim, upright figure, such a profusion of hair, such a delicate fairness of complexion; she would be a great success! It would be as delightful as when last year, the girl who was at the ball as Mrs. Knightley's special friend and prot g e had finished the evening triumphantly becoming engaged to the most eligible man present, Sir William Manvers. Emma felt a thrill at the recollection. The event had justified all her admiration for Sophia Lennox, and Mr. Knightley, who had been so sceptical, had been obliged to admit that sometimes people did marry those whom one had destined for them. There was no Sir William Manvers this year, it was true; but Miss Bennet was still young, and there was plenty of time for the right man to appear. In fact, it was really only her due that she should be properly taken out in London, in order that she might have every chance, and this her aunt, Mrs. Gardiner, was quite evidently not able to give her. What wonder that the upshot of these reflections was a courteous note to Mrs. Gardiner, begging for the pleasure of a visit from Miss Bennet as soon as her stay in Gracechurch Street should be concluded. Kitty was in transports of happiness when all was arranged and she found herself actually Mrs. George Knightley's guest, with a ball in prospect, and each day one round of visits and shopping and other delights, with intervals only long enough to admit of changing one elegant gown for another, for her mother and sisters had taken care she should be provided with an ample wardrobe. She soon ceased to regret not having been allowed to accompany Lydia to the West Indies, and before many days were over had discovered a reason to rejoice that she had not gone. Among Mrs. Knightley's frequent visitors at this time was a young naval lieutenant named William Price, whom she had met a short time previously at the house of the same Mr. Yates who had paid a visit to Bath in the preceding spring. Mr. Yates lived in Cavendish Square, and as his wife was a first cousin of William Price's, they had begged the young man to make their house his home whenever he happened to be in London. Young Price had lately been attached to a ship of the line, the _Andromeda_, which he had been obliged to put into Portsmouth for repairs, and he had been employing some of the period of his enforced leisure in taking up a course of signalling and gunnery, as he was extremely anxious to gain promotion as speedily as possible; but he had found that it was necessary to use other means than those of mere hard work, and at the present time he was living in London, keeping in touch with the Admiralty and endeavouring to recommend himself to every high official and person of influence with whom he could contrive to become acquainted. In the intervals he paid hasty visits to his sisters, who were settled in Northamptonshire, and to his mother at Portsmouth; and being a young man of excellent address, great charm of manner and marked abilities, he had gained a deserved popularity, and could not help enjoying the gaiety of London life, available to him through the hospitality of numerous friends. Mrs. Knightley was extremely pleased with him, and with his next brother, David, who was a clerk in the India Office, and both young men found it a very agreeable house to come to, especially when to the welcome of their hostess was added that of a pretty girl who, warm-hearted and impulsive, did not attempt to conceal her pleasure in their company. David Price was two or three years her junior, and in him Kitty Bennet found only a merry and boyish companion; but the manliness of the young sailor aroused different feelings, and it was not long before she realized that the visits of William Price were becoming the most important thing in her life. She dreamt of him before he came, she had no eyes for anyone else when he was present, and she treasured his words when he had gone; and although she could not honestly read into those words more than a passing friendliness, yet she allowed herself to cherish hopes that each _next_ time there might be something warmer. Poor Kitty had secretly longed to be married ever since she was sixteen; and now at last it seemed as if Destiny itself was working for her, in placing her with so kind a hostess, who was always giving invitations and affording opportunities, and in sending her such a splendid hero of romance to fall in love with, for a hero he was, of a campaign at sea, when he had distinguished himself as much by bravery as he had on shore by industry; a hero with good looks, an assured position, and prize-money saved, and at the present moment with nothing particular to do but fall in love with Miss Kitty Bennet! It was impossible not to feel, under the circumstances, that the course of events was plainly marked out. Mrs. Knightley certainly thought so too, and although she refrained from definite statements, her sympathetic attitude encouraged Kitty to talk herself into hope and self-confidence. The importance of the ball itself in the great scheme of things was not overlooked, and Emma even dreamt now of a brilliant d nouement like last year's. She had invited a large number of people, and was anxious to have as many dancing couples as possible, so Mrs. Hurst's request for permission to bring her brother and Miss Darcy was warmly acceded to, and it was only a matter of regret that their friend Colonel Fitzwilliam could not be induced to go to any balls this season. Kitty was delighted at the prospect of meeting Georgiana again, and when the call spoken of by Mrs. Hurst was being paid, on the day following Georgiana's arrival, she availed herself of a pause in the conversation, and a nod and a smile from Mrs. Knightley, to ask her friend to come to another room for a few moments, on the plea of showing her some new possessions. Georgiana duly admired the bonnets and pelisses, and the gold chain which was Mrs. Knightley's present, and the rose-coloured ball dress which was to make its first appearance on the much-talked-of occasion. Kitty's head was evidently full of this event; she dwelt on it constantly, and from her quick nervous manner Georgiana guessed at some kind of special preoccupation with the subject. "And so you are very happy here, Kitty? Perhaps I need not ask that," she said, as Kitty turned to unfold another new muslin gown. "Oh, very, very happy, perfectly happy," exclaimed Kitty with eagerness. "Mrs. Knightley is so kind, and such nice people come here, you have no idea, Georgiana. Now, do look; is not that beautiful? A real India muslin, and the colour just suits me. You ought to like it, for I bought it with some money Elizabeth gave me." "Yes, dear, I do like it, of course," returned Georgiana; "but tell me some more about yourself. How long were you with the Gardiners?" "I forget just how long, but I came here on the first of June. Oh, I do not know how ever I shall be able to leave! Georgiana, I must tell you! I have been longing to do so, and yet I do not know how I can, after all, for it has not really happened yet. "Of course you have guessed," she went on, in answer to Georgiana's affectionately inquiring glance; "it can only be one thing: but pray do not mention it to anyone, for no one has any idea of it except Mrs. Knightley. It is so wonderful! Georgiana, do you believe in love at first sight?" "I have never thought about it," answered Georgiana honestly, "but I should think it might be possible." "Indeed, indeed, it is possible! It does happen. When you see him, you will know how easily. You will see him on Tuesday night; I do wonder what you will think of him. You must be sure to tell me quite truthfully." "Dear Kitty, you cannot think how glad I am. You mean you are engaged, or just about to be?" "Oh, no, no, no!" exclaimed Kitty, "you do not understand. I think--I hope--but I do not even know if he cares. Sometimes I feel sure he does, and then, again, he seems to be perfectly indifferent, and it is so terrible then, more terrible than you can imagine. But you will see--you will judge for yourself; I shall depend so much upon you for comfort and counsel, especially if Bingley asks him to come down and stay at Desborough, as I mean to persuade him to do." Georgiana was not much enlightened, and her shyness and natural reserve made her hesitate to ask questions on such a subject, which, had she been Kitty, she could not have mentioned to any living creature. But Kitty was evidently longing for sympathy, and poured out her hopes and fears and her reasons for both, mingling with them a description of William Price, painted in the most vivid colours and emphasizing his courage and distinction as an officer, his amiability as a man, his perfection as a ball-room partner, and the high opinion Mr. Knightley and all sensible men had formed of him. Georgiana listened, and was interested almost against her will; she had known Kitty to take fancies several times before for persons who had not returned her regard or thought of doing so; but in this case, from what she could gather, the young man seemed really to deserve Kitty's enthusiasm; they had met under Mrs. Knightley's auspices, he had been very often at the house, and certainly, everything considered, it was much more likely that he should fall in love with Kitty than not. Nevertheless, she hardly knew how to answer her; to encourage her in hopes which might prove false would be the cruellest kindness, so, while, murmuring her wishes for her friend's happiness, she agreed that she must wait for the evening of the ball before she could really tell how far Kitty's dreams were likely to be realized. They talked so long that eventually she had to propose a return to the drawing-room, fearing to be guilty of discourtesy towards Mrs. Knightley; but she was glad that only a moment was left for Kitty's hurried inquiry about her own affairs, as they hastened down the staircase, and that she could therefore dismiss the subject with a light word. Kitty was scarcely satisfied, but finding that Georgiana could not be induced to speak of Colonel Fitzwilliam, returned to her own all-absorbing topic with the remark, "I do wish you could meet someone just like my dear Mr. Price!" Chapter IX The next few days passed rapidly for both girls, and were so full of engagements that they were not able to arrange another meeting, and Georgiana deeply regretted the fact that, except for a glimpse of her at the ball, she should not see Kitty again before Bingley's departure from town. She could only hope that all would go well, and looked forward to a fuller intercourse in Derbyshire in a few weeks' time. Meanwhile, there were many friends to see, and Georgiana would have enjoyed herself thoroughly had she not dreaded the first meeting with Colonel Fitzwilliam, which she felt hanging over her, since Bingley had called on the Colonel and reported him to be in town, but which she did not know when to expect. A slight change in her plans, necessitating a short absence from Mr. Hurst's house, led her to imagine that it would be temporarily averted; but on the very day of the ball, when she and her hostesses had remained at home, and a larger number of visitors than usual happened to be in the room, she experienced a painful shock on hearing his name announced and on seeing him walk into the room. Next moment she was angry with herself for losing her composure, even momentarily, and bracing herself for a possible encounter, she endeavoured to continue to bear her part in a conversation with two or three of Mrs. Hurst's friends, who, she realized gratefully, were strangers to her until that day. It was some minutes afterwards that she was aware of Colonel Fitzwilliam approaching her, guided by Miss Bingley, whose kindly intentions of making the occasion as ordinary as possible only served to intensify its discomfort. Georgiana, however, thought the fault all hers, as, not reassured at all by Caroline's cheerful "Colonel Fitzwilliam was so glad to hear you were staying with us, Georgiana," she found herself only just able to give him her hand with an almost inaudible greeting, while her face, suffused with deepest blushes, must, she felt, have made her noticeable to all around. It was Colonel Fitzwilliam's part to set her at her ease, which he did, to some extent with a few kindly and naturally-expressed sentences, inquiring about her journey, and the health of those she had left behind. Georgiana presently ventured to let her eyes rest on him, and was startled to see how much older he looked even in the short time since she'd seen him, and how ill and worn. A terror seized her heart that she might be guilty of these altered looks, but it passed in an instant; there was not any doubt that their parting had been for the good of both; but poor Cousin Robert, it was plain to see that he had been suffering, from whatever cause, and her sympathy went out to him unconsciously, even while she could hardly talk to him from embarrassment of knowing that Caroline Bingley was standing by, apparently occupied with other people, but drawing conclusions from every word she could hear. "I had intended coming to see you, anyhow, Georgiana," said Fitzwilliam, "but I am very busy, you know--I do not go out much; and you live in a perpetual whirl of gaiety, I expect." He smiled as he spoke, and Georgiana tried to answer in the same spirit, telling him that they had a good many plans, and people were very kind, but she was not really in a whirl, in fact, the very next morning she was leaving for Grosvenor Street for a few days, to spend them quietly with her old friend Mrs. Annesley, who lived in Hans Place, quite away from the bustle of London. "Mrs. Annesley?" repeated Fitzwilliam; "of course I remember her; she will enjoy having you, but how have Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley become reconciled to parting with you even for a week?" Georgiana explained hurriedly that it had been quite a sudden engagement; her old friend had been to see her, and had begged for a short visit from her, if possible, for Mrs. Annesley was on the point of going to India, to live with a married son who had lost his wife, and she might not have the opportunity of seeing her former pupil again for many years. Georgiana had been happy in the opportunity of going to her friend at such a time; her present hostesses had acquiesced, and a week was to be spared to Mrs. Annesley. "But it will be made up in Grosvenor Street next month, I assume," said Colonel Fitzwilliam. "I hardly know--I believe Elizabeth and my brother want me at home again soon--but of course I like being here too," said Georgiana, stumbling over her words, and feeling that she was disgracing herself. If only Caroline would not stand there and seem to be observing them so closely! She did not believe it would be so distressing to talk to Cousin Robert if only they could be together somewhere among strangers. This thought impelled her to ask him, quite at random, for she had every reason to know what his reply would be, whether he was going to Mrs. Knightley's ball. "I am afraid not, Georgiana. I think I am getting too old for balls; but I wish you a great deal of pleasure there." "Oh, Cousin Robert, you are not too old, but you--" she checked herself in this impetuous speech, and ended rather confusedly, "but you look tired"; which was not what she would have wished to say. Her cousin glanced kindly at her, but turned her remark off with a laugh; and as he seemed about to move away, Georgiana, in desperation, and astonished at herself, said timidly: "I hope we may meet again, even though you do not go to balls." "I hope so, too, Georgiana. But of course we shall. I must come some morning and take you all to Kensington Gardens." Georgiana felt that this would not be a great improvement on the present situation, but she could not say any more, and supposed their conversation was at an end, when Fitzwilliam, who had made a step from her, seemed struck with a sudden idea, and turned to her again, saying: "May I come and call on you at Mrs. Annesley's? She will perhaps remember me and--I may not be in town later on." Georgiana flushed with surprise and pleasure, and her eager assent left Fitzwilliam in no doubt as to his reception. He stayed only to assure himself of the number of Mrs. Annesley's house, then bowed and walked rapidly away, as Miss Bingley approached with the evident intention of breaking up their conclave. Georgiana had to submit to a certain amount of comment from the sisters, who, while condoling with her for having had to pass through a uncomfortable few minutes, appeared surprised that she should have been able to talk to Colonel Fitzwilliam, but she herself felt nothing but happiness in having met her cousin again, and found it possible to think of being on those terms with him that Elizabeth had predicted. She spent a part of the afternoon in writing a long letter to her sister, telling her what had happened; but she did not like to send an account of her cousin that might alarm them at home, so she contented herself with saying that he was not looking at all well, and that she wished Elizabeth would persuade him to go down to Pemberley, as he must be working too hard in London. She concluded her writing with the words, "I will leave this open till to-morrow, dear Elizabeth, that I may tell you about the ball, and how Kitty looked." Kitty, indeed, was the chief subject of her thoughts when they dwelt upon the prospect of the evening, and when the time for dressing arrived Kitty's rose-coloured silk occupied her mind far more than her own white satin and pearls. When Mr. and Mrs. Hurst's party entered the ante-room where Mrs. Knightley was receiving her guests, the two girls managed to exchange a few words, and Georgiana gathered that the hero of the evening had not yet appeared, but Kitty was separated from her by the crowd of arrivals, and so it eventually came about that it was their hostess who performed the introduction of Mr. William Price to Miss Darcy. Georgiana's first thought, when she looked at the noble brow and clear blue eye of the young man, was that Kitty's attachment was easily understood, and each moment that she spent in his company strengthened that assurance. She was desirous of liking him, eager to find everything to praise in the admired--and perhaps the admirer--of her friend, and the opportunity came at once in the infectious gaiety and good spirits of the young man and the unaffected warmth of his manner. He asked her for the honour of her hand in several dances; but the first two, she noticed, he danced with Kitty, and from the sparkle in Kitty's eye, and her quick movement as he approached to claim them, Georgiana conjectured that the engagement had been made previously. When Georgiana's turn came, among the excellencies that she discovered in her partner was that of being a perfect dancer; and, moreover, one who moved through the set as if he enjoyed every step. Somewhat shyly she commented on this. "Yes, indeed, Miss Darcy, I am fond of dancing; I began very early, when I was such a small person that you probably wouldn't have seen me in a room, much less have danced with me. We all used to jump about as children, I believe; and on board ship one somehow managed to learn, so as to be ready for the balls." "Were there balls so often?" asked Georgiana. "Yes; wherever we were stationed somebody always seized the opportunity to give a ball, either a private person, or the Governor, or the regiment, or someone. There seems to be a connection established in people's minds between naval men and dancing; anyhow, as soon as there were a few days' quiet, someone would produce musicians and a waxed floor, and we were expected to go and perform. So I decided that I had better like it." "You are a very fortunate person to be able to be able to like

acquainted

How many times the word 'acquainted' appears in the text?

Brandon's death, that there had not been time for much intercourse between them and the Darcys, though Elizabeth had been greatly pleased with what she had seen of Mrs. Ferrars. Since the former's return from Bath, and after her experiences there of the other branch of the family, she could appreciate fully the immense superiority of the Edward Ferrars over their relations. Ferrars himself was too quiet, diffident, and reserved a man to recommend himself easily, but in his wife all recognized a woman of a rare and noble nature, distinguished alike by the sweetness of her character and by its strength. The Darcys rejoiced in the increased opportunities of meeting afforded by the presence of their guest, and various walks, drives and out-of-doors excursions were organized, for which the glorious weather of early June afforded every opportunity. The first diminution their party suffered was in the departure of Georgiana for London, which occurred on the seventeenth of the month. The visit had long been talked of, and Georgiana really looked forward with no little pleasure to seeing her old friends, for Caroline Bingley and Louisa took pains not to show to her, of whom they were exceedingly fond, the cold-hearted and worldly aspect of their dispositions; but when she found herself actually in the travelling carriage with Bingley, with her maid seated opposite, she felt, as she did every year, the sensation of leaving all that she cared for behind her, and of entering scenes alarming because unfamiliar. Bingley good-naturedly endeavoured to divert her in every way, talked of the pleasures awaiting her, and of the friends she would see in London, Kitty Bennet and Mrs. Annesley, besides her hostesses, and casually mentioned the possibility of her coming across Colonel Fitzwilliam. Georgiana had been prepared for this by Elizabeth, and had first shrunk from the idea; but afterwards became reconciled to the view put before her, that the first meeting, which must necessarily be painful, must come some time, and it would be best to get it over in a crowd, with a few ordinary words of greeting, which would put them on a comfortable footing for the future. She, therefore, made an effort to reply cheerfully to all Bingley's suggestions, and had not found the journey tedious when they drew up in Grosvenor Street in time for dinner on the third day. Caroline and Louisa could not make enough of her, and the evening was spent in talking over the plans they had formed for her amusement, and in detailing the engagements they had entered into. It soon appeared that the ball which Bingley had mentioned was on their list; for they were also acquainted with Mrs. George Knightley, whose entertainment it was, and had secured invitations from her for their brother and their young friend. Bingley inquired of the date of the ball, explaining how it affected his movements; and his sisters endeavoured to conceal their surprise on hearing that Miss Kitty Bennet was staying with the Knightleys. "I thought, when you spoke of coming to fetch her, Charles, that she was with her uncle and aunt in Gracechurch Street," said Miss Bingley. "To tell the truth, I was not very clear about it myself," returned Bingley. "Jane told me that she was going to stay over this ball, but whether she was with the Gardiners or the Knightleys I did not make out until just before we came away. It does not make a vast deal of difference, to my thinking." "There is certainly some difference; the Knightleys live in Portland Square, for one thing," replied Miss Bingley. "Do they? I am glad of that, for it means I shall not have to drive so far round to pick Kitty up," was Bingley's cheerful answer, and he moved away to speak to Mr. Hurst, leaving his sisters to their speculations as to how Miss Bennet could have come to know the George Knightleys. Georgiana did not know, but conjectured it was through Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner; and the ladies, though they refrained from showing their perplexity, were even more puzzled to account for the uncle who lived in Cheapside being acquainted with such people of fashion. "Have you seen anything of Fitzwilliam, Louisa?" inquired Bingley of his eldest sister, when he came to have his coffee-cup refilled. "Really, Charles, what a foolish question to ask," replied Mrs. Hurst, with affected carelessness. "Of course we see him frequently when he is in town." "Very good; I hope he will come round while I am here, and, if not, I shall get you to give me his direction, for I must certainly look him up before I go back." Mrs. Hurst made a vague answer, for both she and her sister were sincerely anxious to spare Georgiana any embarrassment, and they would not of their own accord have referred to Fitzwilliam until they knew how she was able to bear the mention of his name in public. Caroline immediately began speaking of another subject, but Georgiana, divining their intentions, felt that she must not indulge in a foolish sensibility which might give her friends a false impression of the state of things; so, summoning all her courage, she said, with a deep blush but a tolerably firm voice: "Yes, I hope my cousin may be in town this month. Elizabeth and my brother gave me many messages for him, if I should see him." She was conscious that the ladies were looking at her in surprise, but that Bingley noticed nothing but the amount of milk Louisa was putting in his coffee was a great help, and Caroline, the next moment, said quietly: "Oh, yes, no doubt he will call," which made it unnecessary for Georgiana to say any more. Bingley, having secured his cup, next produced a notebook and proceeded to write down the address of Fitzwilliam's lodgings and the name of his club, and, as an afterthought, the various engagements to which he had been pledged by his sisters. Georgiana found that Mrs. Hurst and Caroline were anxious she should go with them on the following day to call in Portman Square and meet Mrs. George Knightley. Mrs. Knightley, formerly Emma Woodhouse, had, since her marriage, been able to enjoy a larger measure of the social power and influence in the use of which she had always delighted. Since Mr. Woodhouse's death she had persuaded her husband to go into Parliament, and except for short visits to Donwell, they now lived entirely in London--an arrangement which just suited Emma, who had long desired some stir and variety in her life, after having spent so many unbroken years in a country village. Mr. Knightley still took the greatest interest in the farming of his property, and as soon as he was trustee to his sister-in-law, Mrs. John Knightley, for the estate of Hartfield, which had passed to her on her father's death, he found as much to do out of London as in it; while Emma, though fond of Donwell, had grown weary of the neighbourhood, and took a keen pleasure in forming round her in London a large circle of acquaintances, whom she loved to entertain, and in whose characters and careers she took the deepest interest. Mrs. Knightley's ball had become an annual fixture in the month of June, and this year she had a special incentive for giving it and for making it as gay as possible. At her sister's house she had met Mrs. Gardiner, whose husband had long been a close friend in business of Mr. John Knightley. Mrs. Gardiner was chaperoning a niece, Miss Catherine Bennet, a slender, blooming young girl, and pretty without being very striking; but Mrs. Knightley was impressed with her pleasing manners, and the enthusiasm with which she received the prospect of a theatre party which was being discussed on that occasion. It was the work of a moment for Emma to decide that she must ask her sister to bring Miss Bennet to the ball; but during the remainder of the evening, while she considered and observed, an improvement on the first idea suggested itself; Miss Bennet must be invited to stay in Portman Square for the great occasion. What better arrangement could there be? Isabella would not want to stay late, but young girls liked to dance till the last moment, and she, Emma, would have the benefit of Miss Bennet's help in the preparations, and would be able to introduce her to her partners beforehand. Yes, Miss Bennet was certainly very pretty, prettier than she had appeared at first--such a slim, upright figure, such a profusion of hair, such a delicate fairness of complexion; she would be a great success! It would be as delightful as when last year, the girl who was at the ball as Mrs. Knightley's special friend and prot g e had finished the evening triumphantly becoming engaged to the most eligible man present, Sir William Manvers. Emma felt a thrill at the recollection. The event had justified all her admiration for Sophia Lennox, and Mr. Knightley, who had been so sceptical, had been obliged to admit that sometimes people did marry those whom one had destined for them. There was no Sir William Manvers this year, it was true; but Miss Bennet was still young, and there was plenty of time for the right man to appear. In fact, it was really only her due that she should be properly taken out in London, in order that she might have every chance, and this her aunt, Mrs. Gardiner, was quite evidently not able to give her. What wonder that the upshot of these reflections was a courteous note to Mrs. Gardiner, begging for the pleasure of a visit from Miss Bennet as soon as her stay in Gracechurch Street should be concluded. Kitty was in transports of happiness when all was arranged and she found herself actually Mrs. George Knightley's guest, with a ball in prospect, and each day one round of visits and shopping and other delights, with intervals only long enough to admit of changing one elegant gown for another, for her mother and sisters had taken care she should be provided with an ample wardrobe. She soon ceased to regret not having been allowed to accompany Lydia to the West Indies, and before many days were over had discovered a reason to rejoice that she had not gone. Among Mrs. Knightley's frequent visitors at this time was a young naval lieutenant named William Price, whom she had met a short time previously at the house of the same Mr. Yates who had paid a visit to Bath in the preceding spring. Mr. Yates lived in Cavendish Square, and as his wife was a first cousin of William Price's, they had begged the young man to make their house his home whenever he happened to be in London. Young Price had lately been attached to a ship of the line, the _Andromeda_, which he had been obliged to put into Portsmouth for repairs, and he had been employing some of the period of his enforced leisure in taking up a course of signalling and gunnery, as he was extremely anxious to gain promotion as speedily as possible; but he had found that it was necessary to use other means than those of mere hard work, and at the present time he was living in London, keeping in touch with the Admiralty and endeavouring to recommend himself to every high official and person of influence with whom he could contrive to become acquainted. In the intervals he paid hasty visits to his sisters, who were settled in Northamptonshire, and to his mother at Portsmouth; and being a young man of excellent address, great charm of manner and marked abilities, he had gained a deserved popularity, and could not help enjoying the gaiety of London life, available to him through the hospitality of numerous friends. Mrs. Knightley was extremely pleased with him, and with his next brother, David, who was a clerk in the India Office, and both young men found it a very agreeable house to come to, especially when to the welcome of their hostess was added that of a pretty girl who, warm-hearted and impulsive, did not attempt to conceal her pleasure in their company. David Price was two or three years her junior, and in him Kitty Bennet found only a merry and boyish companion; but the manliness of the young sailor aroused different feelings, and it was not long before she realized that the visits of William Price were becoming the most important thing in her life. She dreamt of him before he came, she had no eyes for anyone else when he was present, and she treasured his words when he had gone; and although she could not honestly read into those words more than a passing friendliness, yet she allowed herself to cherish hopes that each _next_ time there might be something warmer. Poor Kitty had secretly longed to be married ever since she was sixteen; and now at last it seemed as if Destiny itself was working for her, in placing her with so kind a hostess, who was always giving invitations and affording opportunities, and in sending her such a splendid hero of romance to fall in love with, for a hero he was, of a campaign at sea, when he had distinguished himself as much by bravery as he had on shore by industry; a hero with good looks, an assured position, and prize-money saved, and at the present moment with nothing particular to do but fall in love with Miss Kitty Bennet! It was impossible not to feel, under the circumstances, that the course of events was plainly marked out. Mrs. Knightley certainly thought so too, and although she refrained from definite statements, her sympathetic attitude encouraged Kitty to talk herself into hope and self-confidence. The importance of the ball itself in the great scheme of things was not overlooked, and Emma even dreamt now of a brilliant d nouement like last year's. She had invited a large number of people, and was anxious to have as many dancing couples as possible, so Mrs. Hurst's request for permission to bring her brother and Miss Darcy was warmly acceded to, and it was only a matter of regret that their friend Colonel Fitzwilliam could not be induced to go to any balls this season. Kitty was delighted at the prospect of meeting Georgiana again, and when the call spoken of by Mrs. Hurst was being paid, on the day following Georgiana's arrival, she availed herself of a pause in the conversation, and a nod and a smile from Mrs. Knightley, to ask her friend to come to another room for a few moments, on the plea of showing her some new possessions. Georgiana duly admired the bonnets and pelisses, and the gold chain which was Mrs. Knightley's present, and the rose-coloured ball dress which was to make its first appearance on the much-talked-of occasion. Kitty's head was evidently full of this event; she dwelt on it constantly, and from her quick nervous manner Georgiana guessed at some kind of special preoccupation with the subject. "And so you are very happy here, Kitty? Perhaps I need not ask that," she said, as Kitty turned to unfold another new muslin gown. "Oh, very, very happy, perfectly happy," exclaimed Kitty with eagerness. "Mrs. Knightley is so kind, and such nice people come here, you have no idea, Georgiana. Now, do look; is not that beautiful? A real India muslin, and the colour just suits me. You ought to like it, for I bought it with some money Elizabeth gave me." "Yes, dear, I do like it, of course," returned Georgiana; "but tell me some more about yourself. How long were you with the Gardiners?" "I forget just how long, but I came here on the first of June. Oh, I do not know how ever I shall be able to leave! Georgiana, I must tell you! I have been longing to do so, and yet I do not know how I can, after all, for it has not really happened yet. "Of course you have guessed," she went on, in answer to Georgiana's affectionately inquiring glance; "it can only be one thing: but pray do not mention it to anyone, for no one has any idea of it except Mrs. Knightley. It is so wonderful! Georgiana, do you believe in love at first sight?" "I have never thought about it," answered Georgiana honestly, "but I should think it might be possible." "Indeed, indeed, it is possible! It does happen. When you see him, you will know how easily. You will see him on Tuesday night; I do wonder what you will think of him. You must be sure to tell me quite truthfully." "Dear Kitty, you cannot think how glad I am. You mean you are engaged, or just about to be?" "Oh, no, no, no!" exclaimed Kitty, "you do not understand. I think--I hope--but I do not even know if he cares. Sometimes I feel sure he does, and then, again, he seems to be perfectly indifferent, and it is so terrible then, more terrible than you can imagine. But you will see--you will judge for yourself; I shall depend so much upon you for comfort and counsel, especially if Bingley asks him to come down and stay at Desborough, as I mean to persuade him to do." Georgiana was not much enlightened, and her shyness and natural reserve made her hesitate to ask questions on such a subject, which, had she been Kitty, she could not have mentioned to any living creature. But Kitty was evidently longing for sympathy, and poured out her hopes and fears and her reasons for both, mingling with them a description of William Price, painted in the most vivid colours and emphasizing his courage and distinction as an officer, his amiability as a man, his perfection as a ball-room partner, and the high opinion Mr. Knightley and all sensible men had formed of him. Georgiana listened, and was interested almost against her will; she had known Kitty to take fancies several times before for persons who had not returned her regard or thought of doing so; but in this case, from what she could gather, the young man seemed really to deserve Kitty's enthusiasm; they had met under Mrs. Knightley's auspices, he had been very often at the house, and certainly, everything considered, it was much more likely that he should fall in love with Kitty than not. Nevertheless, she hardly knew how to answer her; to encourage her in hopes which might prove false would be the cruellest kindness, so, while, murmuring her wishes for her friend's happiness, she agreed that she must wait for the evening of the ball before she could really tell how far Kitty's dreams were likely to be realized. They talked so long that eventually she had to propose a return to the drawing-room, fearing to be guilty of discourtesy towards Mrs. Knightley; but she was glad that only a moment was left for Kitty's hurried inquiry about her own affairs, as they hastened down the staircase, and that she could therefore dismiss the subject with a light word. Kitty was scarcely satisfied, but finding that Georgiana could not be induced to speak of Colonel Fitzwilliam, returned to her own all-absorbing topic with the remark, "I do wish you could meet someone just like my dear Mr. Price!" Chapter IX The next few days passed rapidly for both girls, and were so full of engagements that they were not able to arrange another meeting, and Georgiana deeply regretted the fact that, except for a glimpse of her at the ball, she should not see Kitty again before Bingley's departure from town. She could only hope that all would go well, and looked forward to a fuller intercourse in Derbyshire in a few weeks' time. Meanwhile, there were many friends to see, and Georgiana would have enjoyed herself thoroughly had she not dreaded the first meeting with Colonel Fitzwilliam, which she felt hanging over her, since Bingley had called on the Colonel and reported him to be in town, but which she did not know when to expect. A slight change in her plans, necessitating a short absence from Mr. Hurst's house, led her to imagine that it would be temporarily averted; but on the very day of the ball, when she and her hostesses had remained at home, and a larger number of visitors than usual happened to be in the room, she experienced a painful shock on hearing his name announced and on seeing him walk into the room. Next moment she was angry with herself for losing her composure, even momentarily, and bracing herself for a possible encounter, she endeavoured to continue to bear her part in a conversation with two or three of Mrs. Hurst's friends, who, she realized gratefully, were strangers to her until that day. It was some minutes afterwards that she was aware of Colonel Fitzwilliam approaching her, guided by Miss Bingley, whose kindly intentions of making the occasion as ordinary as possible only served to intensify its discomfort. Georgiana, however, thought the fault all hers, as, not reassured at all by Caroline's cheerful "Colonel Fitzwilliam was so glad to hear you were staying with us, Georgiana," she found herself only just able to give him her hand with an almost inaudible greeting, while her face, suffused with deepest blushes, must, she felt, have made her noticeable to all around. It was Colonel Fitzwilliam's part to set her at her ease, which he did, to some extent with a few kindly and naturally-expressed sentences, inquiring about her journey, and the health of those she had left behind. Georgiana presently ventured to let her eyes rest on him, and was startled to see how much older he looked even in the short time since she'd seen him, and how ill and worn. A terror seized her heart that she might be guilty of these altered looks, but it passed in an instant; there was not any doubt that their parting had been for the good of both; but poor Cousin Robert, it was plain to see that he had been suffering, from whatever cause, and her sympathy went out to him unconsciously, even while she could hardly talk to him from embarrassment of knowing that Caroline Bingley was standing by, apparently occupied with other people, but drawing conclusions from every word she could hear. "I had intended coming to see you, anyhow, Georgiana," said Fitzwilliam, "but I am very busy, you know--I do not go out much; and you live in a perpetual whirl of gaiety, I expect." He smiled as he spoke, and Georgiana tried to answer in the same spirit, telling him that they had a good many plans, and people were very kind, but she was not really in a whirl, in fact, the very next morning she was leaving for Grosvenor Street for a few days, to spend them quietly with her old friend Mrs. Annesley, who lived in Hans Place, quite away from the bustle of London. "Mrs. Annesley?" repeated Fitzwilliam; "of course I remember her; she will enjoy having you, but how have Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley become reconciled to parting with you even for a week?" Georgiana explained hurriedly that it had been quite a sudden engagement; her old friend had been to see her, and had begged for a short visit from her, if possible, for Mrs. Annesley was on the point of going to India, to live with a married son who had lost his wife, and she might not have the opportunity of seeing her former pupil again for many years. Georgiana had been happy in the opportunity of going to her friend at such a time; her present hostesses had acquiesced, and a week was to be spared to Mrs. Annesley. "But it will be made up in Grosvenor Street next month, I assume," said Colonel Fitzwilliam. "I hardly know--I believe Elizabeth and my brother want me at home again soon--but of course I like being here too," said Georgiana, stumbling over her words, and feeling that she was disgracing herself. If only Caroline would not stand there and seem to be observing them so closely! She did not believe it would be so distressing to talk to Cousin Robert if only they could be together somewhere among strangers. This thought impelled her to ask him, quite at random, for she had every reason to know what his reply would be, whether he was going to Mrs. Knightley's ball. "I am afraid not, Georgiana. I think I am getting too old for balls; but I wish you a great deal of pleasure there." "Oh, Cousin Robert, you are not too old, but you--" she checked herself in this impetuous speech, and ended rather confusedly, "but you look tired"; which was not what she would have wished to say. Her cousin glanced kindly at her, but turned her remark off with a laugh; and as he seemed about to move away, Georgiana, in desperation, and astonished at herself, said timidly: "I hope we may meet again, even though you do not go to balls." "I hope so, too, Georgiana. But of course we shall. I must come some morning and take you all to Kensington Gardens." Georgiana felt that this would not be a great improvement on the present situation, but she could not say any more, and supposed their conversation was at an end, when Fitzwilliam, who had made a step from her, seemed struck with a sudden idea, and turned to her again, saying: "May I come and call on you at Mrs. Annesley's? She will perhaps remember me and--I may not be in town later on." Georgiana flushed with surprise and pleasure, and her eager assent left Fitzwilliam in no doubt as to his reception. He stayed only to assure himself of the number of Mrs. Annesley's house, then bowed and walked rapidly away, as Miss Bingley approached with the evident intention of breaking up their conclave. Georgiana had to submit to a certain amount of comment from the sisters, who, while condoling with her for having had to pass through a uncomfortable few minutes, appeared surprised that she should have been able to talk to Colonel Fitzwilliam, but she herself felt nothing but happiness in having met her cousin again, and found it possible to think of being on those terms with him that Elizabeth had predicted. She spent a part of the afternoon in writing a long letter to her sister, telling her what had happened; but she did not like to send an account of her cousin that might alarm them at home, so she contented herself with saying that he was not looking at all well, and that she wished Elizabeth would persuade him to go down to Pemberley, as he must be working too hard in London. She concluded her writing with the words, "I will leave this open till to-morrow, dear Elizabeth, that I may tell you about the ball, and how Kitty looked." Kitty, indeed, was the chief subject of her thoughts when they dwelt upon the prospect of the evening, and when the time for dressing arrived Kitty's rose-coloured silk occupied her mind far more than her own white satin and pearls. When Mr. and Mrs. Hurst's party entered the ante-room where Mrs. Knightley was receiving her guests, the two girls managed to exchange a few words, and Georgiana gathered that the hero of the evening had not yet appeared, but Kitty was separated from her by the crowd of arrivals, and so it eventually came about that it was their hostess who performed the introduction of Mr. William Price to Miss Darcy. Georgiana's first thought, when she looked at the noble brow and clear blue eye of the young man, was that Kitty's attachment was easily understood, and each moment that she spent in his company strengthened that assurance. She was desirous of liking him, eager to find everything to praise in the admired--and perhaps the admirer--of her friend, and the opportunity came at once in the infectious gaiety and good spirits of the young man and the unaffected warmth of his manner. He asked her for the honour of her hand in several dances; but the first two, she noticed, he danced with Kitty, and from the sparkle in Kitty's eye, and her quick movement as he approached to claim them, Georgiana conjectured that the engagement had been made previously. When Georgiana's turn came, among the excellencies that she discovered in her partner was that of being a perfect dancer; and, moreover, one who moved through the set as if he enjoyed every step. Somewhat shyly she commented on this. "Yes, indeed, Miss Darcy, I am fond of dancing; I began very early, when I was such a small person that you probably wouldn't have seen me in a room, much less have danced with me. We all used to jump about as children, I believe; and on board ship one somehow managed to learn, so as to be ready for the balls." "Were there balls so often?" asked Georgiana. "Yes; wherever we were stationed somebody always seized the opportunity to give a ball, either a private person, or the Governor, or the regiment, or someone. There seems to be a connection established in people's minds between naval men and dancing; anyhow, as soon as there were a few days' quiet, someone would produce musicians and a waxed floor, and we were expected to go and perform. So I decided that I had better like it." "You are a very fortunate person to be able to be able to like

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Breaking Away Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "BAMBINO" [ PRODUCED AS "BREAKING AWAY" ] Written by Steve Tesich June 9, 1978 FADE IN EXT. QUARRY OUTSKIRTS - DAY 1 A narrow dirt road totally surrounded by thick vegetation. Here and there we see a huge block of stone blocking the road. The sun is shining but it has a hard time making it through the foliage. In the distance we see four guys walking TOWARD the CAMERA. There is a swagger to their walk. MII is singing. The others are humming along. The melody of the song of "0 Bury Me Not On the Lone Prairie" but it's a loose version. MIME AND WHEN I DIE...WON'T YOU BURY ME ON THE"PARKING LOT OF THE A AND P BLOW OUT THE CANDLES AND BLOW OUT TIE LAMPS AND LIGHT MY PYRE WITH MY TRADING STAMPS I HAD TWO BOOKS BUT I NEEDED THREE R TO DELIVER ME FROM THE A AND P. I HAD THREE BOOKS BUT I NEEDED FOUR TO GO TO HEAVEN AND REDEEM MY SOUL. By this time the four are in front of the CAMERA. Mike is handsome and well built. CYRIL is tall and skinny. MOOCHER is very short. DAVE, hanging back a little, is carrying a large trophy. DAVE Bravo, Mike! Bravo! Bellisimot CYRIL Did you really make all that up? They pass. ANOTHER ANGLE The presence of the quarry is felt much stronger now. More and more blocks of cut stone appear. The guys are dwarfed by them. They have to climb over some. MIKE I sent away for this stuff from Wyoming. It'll tell you everything. Since you don't believe me maybe you'll believe it when you see it. CYRIL And we'd work on the same ranch and sleep in the bunkhouse together, eh? Cont. 567 REVISED '"BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 2 X 1 Cont. MOOCHER That's the whole point. CYRIL I always miss the whole point. MOOCHER It'd be nice to have a paying Job again, that's for sure. DAVE Niente laborare. Niente mangare. MIKE What's that mean? DAVE You don't work. You don't eat. CYRIL That's a terrible thing to say. MED. SHOT The quarries are felt even more now. Walls of stone rise up around the guys. CYRIL Are you really going to shave your legs? DAVE Certo. All the Italians do it. MIKE That's some country. The women don't shave theirs. CYRIL STOP! (pauses as if THUNDERSTRUCK; hand on heart) It was somewhere along here that I lost all interest in life. Ah, right over there. I.saw Dolores Reineke and fat Marvin. Why? Why Dolores? MOOCHER They're married now. Coat. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 3 X 1 Cont.1 MIRE You see what I saved you from, Cyril. Had I not told you about the two of them you never would have followed them out here. CYRIL- Thank you, Mike. You made me lose all interest in life and I'm grateful. MIKE My brother says he saw you and Nancy. Moocher. MOOCHER When? MIKE Last Friday? MOOCHER Wasn't me. I'm not seeing her anymore. ANOTHER ANGLE They are now standing above a huge pool of water with sheer cliffs on three sides. Abandoned derricks loom in the distance. Dave is now humming softly a Neapolitan song. They begin the descent. CYRIL I kind of miss school. You know. This will be the first time nobody's going to ask us to write a theme about how we spent our summer. MIKE Remember the Tomb of the Unknown Substitute Teacher. MOOCHER She believed us too. MIKE (TEACHER'S VOICE) Sex spelled backwards x-es. CYRIL When you're sixteen they call it sweet sixteen. When you're eighteen you get to drink, see dirty movies and vote. But what the hell do you do when you're nineteen. 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 3-A X 1 Cont.2 MIKE You leave home. CYRIL My dad says Jesus never went further than fifty miles from his home. Mike is skipping down the rocks toward the water, taking clothes off as he does. The rest follow. MIKE And look what happened to him. Mike jumps into the water. Moocher and Cyril follow. Dave looks on. FADE THROUGH TO: DAVE'S P.O.V. 1-A The guys are swimming. Dave is holding his trophy casually, enjoying the beautiful day. He pulls out a little Italian Phrase Book. Finds what he wants. DAVE Oggi fa bello,-non e vero? MIKE Sure thing, partner. MOOCHER C'mon in. DAVE I read where this Italian coach said you should never swim after a race. CYRIL Who's swimming? I'm taking a leak. Moocher and Mike splash water at him and swim away. FADE THROUGH TO: 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 4 ROCKS BY THE WATER 1-B All four guys are sunbathing looking at the water. Deep X down, at the bottom of the quarry hole we see an old icebox. Mike is staring at it. The mood is one of total relaxation. MIRE Aren't you glad we got fired from The A and P. Right now we'd be X working. MOOCHER We didn't get fired. You got- fired. We quit. MIKE One for all and all for one. MOOCHER There aren't many places, you know, that'll hire all four of USE CYRIL You know what I'd like to be? MIKE Smart. CYRIL A cartoon of some kind. Man, X that'd be great. Like when they get hit on their head with a frying pan and their head looks like a frying pan-with a handle and everything. And then they go b-r-r-r. (shakes his head) And their head comes back to normal. That'd be great.. MIKE How come you're so stupid, Cyril. CYRIL I don't know. I think I have a dumb heredity. What's your excuse, Mike? Mike hits him hard on the arm. Cyril winces. Mike stands up. He makes sure they're all watching and dives in. The guys talk as they follow his progress. DAVE You hear from your folks, Moocher? 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 5 1-B Coat. MOOCHER .. Yeah, my Dad called. He says there's a lot more jobs in'Chicago. He hasn't got anything yet. Mike has reached the icebox. He opens the door. Goes in. Shuts the door. MOOCHER He wanted to know if the house was sold. They could use the money. DAVE You can come and live with me when it's sold. In Italy everybody lives together. All three of them are getting concerned about Mike. MOOCHER Ever since you won that Italian X bike you've been acting weird. You really think you are Italian. CYRIL I .wouldn't mind thinking I was s omebody myself. All three of them stand up. MOOCHER Maybe the door is stuck. God dammit! Moocher dives in. Dave and Cyril follow. Moocher swims down to the icebox, forces the door open. They surface. As soon as they hit the surface we hear: MIKE o.s.} Yoo--hoo . THE GUYS' P.O.V. They see Mike standing on top of the rock above them. MIKE It's got no back on it! He laughs triumphantly. He's ready to dive in again when he pauses and looks. High above where he stands on the other side of the quarry hole, we see several figures. The guys are swimming toward the rocks and looking at the figures too. 5667 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 6 1-B Cont.l CLOSEUP - MIKE His face has hardened as he looks at the figures. MIKE What the hell are they doing here? X ANOTHER ANGLE Dave, Moocher and Cyril are standing on the rocks below Mike. Mike is still on top of the rock. High above him are the College Kids. Three guys and three girls. One of the guys is standing on the ledge above the water. Our guys are looking at the College Kid on the ledge. He seems intent on diving into the water. It's a distance of at least eighty feet. He pushes off and dives in executing a beautiful somersault into a swan dive. CLOSEUP - OUR GUYS They are stunned. CLOSEUP - MIKE He's obviously envious.. He looks from the diver toward the guys and seems to feel his position undermined. CYRIL I've never seen anyone dive off from there. MIS BASTARDS[ (CLIMBING DOWN THE ROCK) They've got indoor pools and outdoor pools on the campus but they got to come here. (Joins the guys) It's my goddamn quarry. Cyril assumes a very dramatic posture. Sings to the theme from Exodus. CYRIL This hole! This quarry hole is mine! MIKE Hey, screw you, Cyril. Let's get out of here. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6 6. 8 7 EXT. QUARRY - DAY 1-C They are retracing their steps out of the quarry. Mike is leading. -Moocher is behind him. Dave is at the end. He's carrying a huge trophy casually. X MIKE o.s.) If they re going to come here then we'll go on .the campus. MED. SHOT - MIKE'S CAR 1-D A racing bicycle is on top of the car. The guys are in the car and the car is moving fast through the dirt road leading out of the quarries. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 2 Mike is speeding through the town. A huge billboard with the Marlboro Man whizzes past us.. INT. MIKE'S CAR - Mike looks angry. He's got an unlit cigarette in his mouth. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 3 A car lot is on the right. "CAMPUS CARS.", MOOCHER Isn't your dad working today? DAVE (o.s.) No, the doctor told him to take it easy. He's taking Sunday's off. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - CITY HALL - DAY 4 City Hall is on the left. CYRIL (O S ) That's where you go to get a marriage license, Mooch. MOOCHER (o.s.) Yeah, so what? Cyril laughs and then howls as he's hit. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" ; 6/16/78 8 OUT 5 X EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 6 Huge modern structures are looming in the distance in stark contrast to the town we just passed through. Mike's car-is speeding toward them. X EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 7 Mike's car turns into a street called Fraternity Row.- Most of the fraternities and sororities-are located along this stretch. Neat lawns line the area. The houses are enormous: an architectural mixture of old manor house and modern motel. The college kids are outside on the lawns. Some are reading. Girls in bikinis sunbathing. Guys washing their cars. Some other guys passing the football around. Transistor radios playing. Mike drives slowly. INT. MIKE'S CAR All the guys are looking out of the windows as if they were in a museum. Mike looks at the expensive cars along the way. Cyril looks at the Girls in bikinis. Moocher looks at the huge well-built guys. Dave just looks. CYRIL Going to college must do'something 'to girls' tits. Just look at them. Campussies and sororititties. (sticks head out; shouts to a couple of Girls) - Hi, there. What's your major? The Girls look up and kind of sneer. MOOCHER They sure look like they've got it made. MIKE That's because they're rich. DAVE Italians are all poor but they're happy. MIKE Maybe in Italy. Cont. 567 9 7 Cont. CYRIL I wonder what it's like to kiss a coed. I wonder about it a lot. Ahead of Mike's car we see two Guys and two Girls playing Frisbee. They are standing on the lawns and throwing the Frisbee to each other across the street. Mike's car is moving slowly forward when an ill-thrown Frisbee lands on the street. Mike sees it and speeds up. A Girl is running to get it but Mike gets there first and runs over it. Dave gets a quick look at the Girl as she stops"suddenly to keep from getting hit. The two college Guys run out and give' Mike the finger. He sees them in the rearview mirror. MIKE Hey, those bastards are giving us the finger. He slams on the brakes. MOOCHER Hey, c'mon, Mike. We're on their turf. Dave is looking back at the Girl. The two Guys are challenging Mike, motioning to him to come back. The two Girls are trying to talk them out of it. Mike-is gunning the car. MIKE They think they own the place. MOOCHER They do. CYRIL Besides, you've humiliated them enough. In ancient Japan when you ran over a samurai's Frisbee he had to commit suicide. Just as he laughs Mike shifts the car in reverse. The two Guys and Girls are standing in the middle of the road. The Guys are coming forward thinking Mike's going to stop, but Mike has no intention of stopping. The Girls and the Guys split as Mike's car roars between them. Once again Dave catches a fleeting glimpse of the Girl. Having scattered them, Mike makes a U-turn and drives away in the direction he came from. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" 8/12/78 10 7 Cont.1 CLOSEUP - THE COLLEGE KIDS The girl Dave saw, KATHERINE, is looking after the car holding a cracked Frisbee in her hand. The tall well-built guy next to her, ROD, her boyfriend, looks real upset. He is wearing a Little 500 T-shirt. ROD Dumbass cutters. Goddamn redneck retards. OUT 8 CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE 9 riding. A Neapolitan melody plays as Dave rides holding his trophy:. a romantic song of the south and not southern Indiana. The small houses could be Italian houses to Dave. The people sitting on porches and steps could be Italians. Dave waves like a returning hero. DAVE Buon giornol Buon giornol (SPOTS SOME SMALL CHILDREN) Hey, bambino. The people and the kids look at him like he's an oddball, but Dave does not notice. A woman is shaking a rug ahead of him, and she looks so Italian that he can't help but smile. A big blonde GIRL is coming out of the house dressed in a waitress outfit. She sees Dave. G= Dave...is Moocher home? But Dave just rides past her in a daydream. CLOSEUP - A COUPLE ON A PORCH They're older PEOPLE. The Man is drinking a beer. WOMAN Tsk. Tsk. He was as normal as pumpkin pie and'now look x at him. The Man lets out a long beer belch. WOMAN His poor parents. 5 67 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 11 _ X l f T. BLASE HOUSE - DAY 10 MR. BLASE is sitting at a kitchen table. MRS. BLASE is boiling water. Mr. Blase does not look happy. He's got a flyswatter in his hand. He sees a fly. Whack. He hits it. He misses. MR. BLASE It's that cologne he wears. MRS. BLASE Neapolitan Sunset, it's called. MR. BLASE Well, it smells like fruit punch to me and it attracts flies. Mrs. Blase comes over and pours some hot water into his cup. She takes a package of Sanka from her apron pocket and puts it in the saucer. MRS. BLASE There. Mrs. Blase looks at the table. MR. BLASE This is itl MRS. BLASE You have to watch your diet. MR. BLASE Diet, if anybody found out I was on the diet they'd laugh me out of town. A diet. MRS. BLASE You know what the doctor said. At your age... MR. BLASE At my agel What the hell do you mean at my age. MRS. BLASE He says you have a bad heart. MR. BLASE Yeah, but it's got nothing to do with my age. It's our son that's ruining my heart, Evelyn. What's he going to do? He wanted a year with those bums so I gave him a year. CONT 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 12 X 10 Cont. MRS. BLASE It hasn't been a year yet. MR. BLASE But, Evelyn. Look whatts happened to him. He's turned into a ity; It was funny at first but it's not funny anymore. Ciao, Papa. Ciao, Mama. Arrivaderchit That's ity talk. MRS. BLASE It's just hero worship. He says the Italians are the best bike racers in'the world and he... MR. BLASE This is America, Evelyn. Only paper boys ride bikes and they earn money doing it. MRS. BLASE Re did win his bicycle and he was quite sickly 'til he started racing around and in three years ._ ne's... MR. BLASE (INTERRUPTS) So now his body's fine but his mind is gone. He used to be a smart kid. I thought he was going to goy to college. MRS. BLASE I thought you didn't want him to go to college. MR. BLASE Why should he go to college? I didn't go to college. When I was nineteen I was working in the quarries ten hours a day. MRS. BLASE But most of the quarries have shut down. MR. BLASE Let him find another job. MRS. BLASE But there aren't any jobs. 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/15/78 13 10 Cont.1 MR. BLASE Let him look at least. Let him come home tired from looking. He's never tired. MRS. BLASE He's young. MR. BLASE When I was young I was tired. I had my own place at seventeen. MRS. BLASE He says Italian families stay together, MR. BLASE BUT WE ARE NOT ITALIANI MRS. BLASE I know. It's just that I come from a big family myself. . .and it really was kind of nice... (smiles, half EMBARRASSED) He thinks we should have another kid. MR. BLASE What?t Dave enters carrying his trophy. DAVE Ah, buon giorno, Papa. MR. BLASE I'm your goddamned father, not papa. DAVE Buon giorno, Mama. MR. BLASE She's your goddamn mother. Whatcha do -- win again? Dave opens the fridge and takes out a hunk of cheese and a hunk of salami and starts eating. Mr. Blase looks at him like a wolf and then he looks at half a grapefruit in front of him. He finds it unbearable to watch him chew. Cont. 567 REVISED - "B.ANBINO" - 8/15/78 14 10 Cont.2 DAVE Yes, the victory ...she was easy. But the promoter...'fondatore' ...He says the Italian team...it will come maybe soon...and I will race with the best...ITALIANO. X Like the nightingale they sing, like the eagles they fly. Mr. Blase can't bear to watch him eat. He's starved. MR. BLASE Speaking of flies...there's a helluva lot of flies following you into the house. DAVE Fly in Italian is 'mosca.' MR. BLASE Well in English it's a pest. And speaking of pests... Mrs. Blase senses an argument. MRS .. BLASE It's a nice trophy isn't it, dear? MR. BLASE Yeah, so what. I've lived fifty years without ever getting a trophy. DAVE You never got trophy, Papa? MR. BLASE No, never, and what's more... Dave interrupts. DAVE Here, Papa. I give you. You are 'Numero Uno.' King Papa. Dave hands him the trophy. Mr. Blase is stunned. He'takes it. Before he can even think to give it back Dave kisses him on both cheeks. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/15/78 MR. BLASE Don't do thatl How many times... DAVE Now I'have to go and take a shower. (starts to leave AND PAUSES) Such a big house and so few people. I wish I had plenty of fratelly and sorelly to greet me when I come home and to wave when I go. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 15 10 Cont.3 Dave leaves. Mrs. Blase sighs. She too would like a big family. Mr. Blase is holding the trophy and looking at it. Neapolitan music is heard coming from Dave's room. Mr. Blase has had it. MR. BLASE There'-s that ity music again. X I'm going to have it out with him now. He goes to Dave's room carrying the trophy with him. Mrs. Blase follows him a few steps and stops. She waits... listening. She is apprehensive. She wants to follow and help Dave out but she stays behind wringing her hands. Mr. Blase reappears looking quite stunned. He's holding the trophy in one hand along his side. MRS. BLASE What's the matter? MR. BLASE HE'S SHAVINGL MRS. BLASE Well, so what? MR. BLASE His legs, Evelyn. He's shaving X his legs. I saw him. His legs. MT. DAVE' S BATHROOM 11 Huamoing along with the record player Dave is shaving away at his overly-lathered legs. OUT 12 CUT TO: INT. DAVE'S ROOM - CLOSEUP - THE STEREO - DAY 13 A record is turning. On top of the dust cover we see an album cover: ENRICO GIMDNDI SINGS NEAPOLITAN FAVORITES. X The CAMERA MOVES SLOWLY AROUND his room. There are bicycle trophies everywhere. Posters of Italian racers. Posters of Italian movies. Magazine covers and newspaper clippings from Italian racing magazines. Bicycle parts: Spare wheels...cranks...pedals. Several bicycle jerseys hanging on the doorknob.. ENRICO GINSONDI sings during.this tour of Dave's room. Dave comes out of the shower humming along. A cat comes to greet him, meowing. DAVE Ah, there you are Fellini... Hungry, eh? Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 16 13 Cont. He goes to a drawer and takes out a can of "Chef Boy-ar-dee" spaghetti and meatballs. Still humming, he opens the can and dumps the food into a deep ashtray with "CINZANO" written on the sides. DAVE Mangiare...mangiare... Be looks at the posters of the bicycle riders. He looks in the mirror. He takes a comb and combs his hair back in the "continental" style. Then he smiles. He picks up a book: "ITALIAN PEASE BOOK" and lies down on the bed to read it. EXT. MR. BLASE'S USED CAR LOT - DAY 14 A big sign: "CAMPUS CARS." The car lot is nowhere near the campus but the sign is considered good business. All around the car lot are other signs: BEST DEAL IN TOWN. CARS WITH A COLLEGE EDUCATION. The cars themselves have signs on them: "GRAD SCHOOL SPECIAL." "ENGLISH MAJOR" PhD" "HOMECOMING QUEEN" "CUM LAUDE" "MAGNA CUM LAUDE." CLOSEUP - MR. BLASE AND CUSTOMER The CUSTOMER is a young college kid. Mr. Blase is showing him the "HOMECOMING QUEEN." MR. BLASE It gets thirty miles to a gallon, X of course the mileage you get may vary. It's a beaut, right? Right. You sure know how to pick them. Frankly this is the best car on the lot. Quality product. DAVE (o.s. ) Ciao, Papal Mr. Blase cringes. Looks up. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE He's on his bike across the street. He's waving. DAVE'S P.O.V. Mr. Blase is looking at his Customer pretending he has no idea who Dave is. He shrugs and turns his back and quickly glances over his shoulder as Dave rides away. 567 17 EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 15 Students are everywhere and so are classroom buildings. Tall, new, limestone structures resembling office buildings. Students sit on the steps outside the buildings. They are lying around on the grass and walking to and from classes. All of them have books in hand. The wind is blowing. CLOSEUP - DAVE He's sitting next to his bike on the grass and looking around at all of them. In his hands he has his Italian Phrase Book: the book being his admission ticket into this world. It's obvious he's feeling a little out of place, but he enjoys looking at the campus world. A campus Police Car drives by and Dave quickly hides his face in the book. Waits for it to pass and when he looks up he is struck by something. MED. SHOT - KATHERINE - DAVE'S P.0.V. She's coming out of a classroom building with a bunch of books and papers in her hands. The wind is blowing her hair back. The CAMERA ZOOMS IN ON her face, isolating her from all the others, just as Dave is doing. CLOSEUP - DAVE His mouth is open. He blinks once. He swallows. DAVE Mama mia I CUT TO: MED. SHOT - KATHERINE As she's walking, she transfers her books from one hand to the other. A piece of paper escapes her and flies away in the wind. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE He sees the paper fly away and jumps up. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE She tries to go after the paper but the traffic keeps her from crossing the street. The paper's flying away. She gives up, and turns toward the parking lot just as we see Dave on his Cont. 567 18 15 Cont. bicycle chasing after the paper. He cuts through the cars, he cuts in front of them. The horns blow. The brakes screech. All Dave sees is the paper. He's on a mission. He cuts through the pedestrians crossing the street maneuvering brilliantly. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - A COLLEGE GUY He's just walking. He sees the piece of paper flying around and grabs it casually. Just as he's ready to read it a hand appears in the FRAME and snatches it away from him. It's Dave, riding away with the piece of paper in his hand. The College Guy just stands and looks after him. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE - ON A MOTOR SCOOTER 16 She's driving home. In her rearview mirror she spots something. A bicycle rider. He seems to be gaining on her. She speeds up almost instinctively. CUT TO: ANGLE ON DAVE - ON THE BIKE He's. got the paper in his mouth and he speeds up too. He shifts his gear. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE She's riding along. She glances in the rearview mirror and sees Dave quite close behind her with the paper in his mouth. She shifts her gears too. She smiles a little. CUT TO: ANGLE ON DAVE He's close enough to shout. He opens his mouth to shout. The paper flies out but he quickly catches it in mid-air. DAVE Signorina... He has momentarily lost ground on her but he sticks the paper in his mouth and pours it on. CUT TO: Cont. 5 67 REVISED - "BAMBINO"_ 8/12/78 19 16 Cont. ANGLE ON KATHERINE She's crossing the street just as the light changes. Dave crosses on the red light. Once again he's nearly hit by several cars. He follows Katherine up the hill leading to Fraternity Row. He overtakes her just as. she's about to turn into the drive leading to her sorority. But Dave is there on her right preventing her-from turning. She too almost hits him. She slams on her brakes. Dave slams on his. They come to a dead stop. DAVE Signorina...You... He's handing her the paper but then he pauses and pulls it back just as she's about to take it. He wipes the saliva off the paper on his jersey, and then gives it to her. DAVE It is yours...no? She takes the paper and smiles. Then she laughs. KATHERINE You mean you've been chasing me with this? Well, that's redly something. Thank you very much. Talk about chivalry. Dave is just looking at her. She's never seen anyone look at her quite like that. She's a bit confused. KATHERINE Well, thanks again. DAVE Is nothing...niente...signorina. KATHERINE What're you...an exchange student or something? - DAVE Si. I am Italian. My name is ENRICO GIMONDI. X KATHERINE And mine is Katherine Maxwell. DAVE Ah, Katherinal Cont. 367 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 20 X 16 Cont.l She likes the sound of this. But the way Dave looks at her is unsettling. KATHERINE Well, thanks again, again. 'BYE DAVE Ciao,. Katherina. Dave'rides away. She looks after him. OUT 17- 19 EXT. MOOCHER'S HOUSE - DAY 20 There's a big CAMPUS REALTY sign outside the house with a FOR-SALE tacked over it. NANCY is walking up to the screen door. She knocks. Moocher appears holding a huge barbell at shoulder height. They smile nervously at each other. MOOCHER NANCYL NANCY I was just on my way to work... Come in. He pushes the door open with one end of the barbell and lets her in checking the street to make sure nobody saw her. She goes in. Moocher shuts the other door too. INT. MOOCHER'S HOUSE - DAY 20-A The two room house is empty except for a sleeping bag and a wooden foot locker -- Moocher resumes working with the barbells. NANCY You know what? MOOCHER No, what? NANCY I'm leaving home that's what. MOOCHER Whatl Where're you going? Cont. 567 AiEVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 w 21 X 20-A Cont. NANCY About five blocks south. I found a nice little house to rent. It's so cute I could scream. My folks said I could have some'of their furniture from the basement. Maybe you could give me a hand...moving. MOOCHER Sure...if...If I'm not busy. You know. How's the Job? NANCY You know what! Frank said if I keep up the good work it'll just be a matter of time before I become a head cashier. I should go now. MOOCHER Maybe...eh...Maybe I'll walk you to work. I have to go that way anyway. She smiles, happy at the prospect of a nice walk together. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 21 Dave and Cyril are going through the outskirts of the campus. Dave is riding his bike slowly. Cyril is jogging along. They go past

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Breaking Away Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "BAMBINO" [ PRODUCED AS "BREAKING AWAY" ] Written by Steve Tesich June 9, 1978 FADE IN EXT. QUARRY OUTSKIRTS - DAY 1 A narrow dirt road totally surrounded by thick vegetation. Here and there we see a huge block of stone blocking the road. The sun is shining but it has a hard time making it through the foliage. In the distance we see four guys walking TOWARD the CAMERA. There is a swagger to their walk. MII is singing. The others are humming along. The melody of the song of "0 Bury Me Not On the Lone Prairie" but it's a loose version. MIME AND WHEN I DIE...WON'T YOU BURY ME ON THE"PARKING LOT OF THE A AND P BLOW OUT THE CANDLES AND BLOW OUT TIE LAMPS AND LIGHT MY PYRE WITH MY TRADING STAMPS I HAD TWO BOOKS BUT I NEEDED THREE R TO DELIVER ME FROM THE A AND P. I HAD THREE BOOKS BUT I NEEDED FOUR TO GO TO HEAVEN AND REDEEM MY SOUL. By this time the four are in front of the CAMERA. Mike is handsome and well built. CYRIL is tall and skinny. MOOCHER is very short. DAVE, hanging back a little, is carrying a large trophy. DAVE Bravo, Mike! Bravo! Bellisimot CYRIL Did you really make all that up? They pass. ANOTHER ANGLE The presence of the quarry is felt much stronger now. More and more blocks of cut stone appear. The guys are dwarfed by them. They have to climb over some. MIKE I sent away for this stuff from Wyoming. It'll tell you everything. Since you don't believe me maybe you'll believe it when you see it. CYRIL And we'd work on the same ranch and sleep in the bunkhouse together, eh? Cont. 567 REVISED '"BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 2 X 1 Cont. MOOCHER That's the whole point. CYRIL I always miss the whole point. MOOCHER It'd be nice to have a paying Job again, that's for sure. DAVE Niente laborare. Niente mangare. MIKE What's that mean? DAVE You don't work. You don't eat. CYRIL That's a terrible thing to say. MED. SHOT The quarries are felt even more now. Walls of stone rise up around the guys. CYRIL Are you really going to shave your legs? DAVE Certo. All the Italians do it. MIKE That's some country. The women don't shave theirs. CYRIL STOP! (pauses as if THUNDERSTRUCK; hand on heart) It was somewhere along here that I lost all interest in life. Ah, right over there. I.saw Dolores Reineke and fat Marvin. Why? Why Dolores? MOOCHER They're married now. Coat. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 3 X 1 Cont.1 MIRE You see what I saved you from, Cyril. Had I not told you about the two of them you never would have followed them out here. CYRIL- Thank you, Mike. You made me lose all interest in life and I'm grateful. MIKE My brother says he saw you and Nancy. Moocher. MOOCHER When? MIKE Last Friday? MOOCHER Wasn't me. I'm not seeing her anymore. ANOTHER ANGLE They are now standing above a huge pool of water with sheer cliffs on three sides. Abandoned derricks loom in the distance. Dave is now humming softly a Neapolitan song. They begin the descent. CYRIL I kind of miss school. You know. This will be the first time nobody's going to ask us to write a theme about how we spent our summer. MIKE Remember the Tomb of the Unknown Substitute Teacher. MOOCHER She believed us too. MIKE (TEACHER'S VOICE) Sex spelled backwards x-es. CYRIL When you're sixteen they call it sweet sixteen. When you're eighteen you get to drink, see dirty movies and vote. But what the hell do you do when you're nineteen. 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 3-A X 1 Cont.2 MIKE You leave home. CYRIL My dad says Jesus never went further than fifty miles from his home. Mike is skipping down the rocks toward the water, taking clothes off as he does. The rest follow. MIKE And look what happened to him. Mike jumps into the water. Moocher and Cyril follow. Dave looks on. FADE THROUGH TO: DAVE'S P.O.V. 1-A The guys are swimming. Dave is holding his trophy casually, enjoying the beautiful day. He pulls out a little Italian Phrase Book. Finds what he wants. DAVE Oggi fa bello,-non e vero? MIKE Sure thing, partner. MOOCHER C'mon in. DAVE I read where this Italian coach said you should never swim after a race. CYRIL Who's swimming? I'm taking a leak. Moocher and Mike splash water at him and swim away. FADE THROUGH TO: 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 4 ROCKS BY THE WATER 1-B All four guys are sunbathing looking at the water. Deep X down, at the bottom of the quarry hole we see an old icebox. Mike is staring at it. The mood is one of total relaxation. MIRE Aren't you glad we got fired from The A and P. Right now we'd be X working. MOOCHER We didn't get fired. You got- fired. We quit. MIKE One for all and all for one. MOOCHER There aren't many places, you know, that'll hire all four of USE CYRIL You know what I'd like to be? MIKE Smart. CYRIL A cartoon of some kind. Man, X that'd be great. Like when they get hit on their head with a frying pan and their head looks like a frying pan-with a handle and everything. And then they go b-r-r-r. (shakes his head) And their head comes back to normal. That'd be great.. MIKE How come you're so stupid, Cyril. CYRIL I don't know. I think I have a dumb heredity. What's your excuse, Mike? Mike hits him hard on the arm. Cyril winces. Mike stands up. He makes sure they're all watching and dives in. The guys talk as they follow his progress. DAVE You hear from your folks, Moocher? 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 5 1-B Coat. MOOCHER .. Yeah, my Dad called. He says there's a lot more jobs in'Chicago. He hasn't got anything yet. Mike has reached the icebox. He opens the door. Goes in. Shuts the door. MOOCHER He wanted to know if the house was sold. They could use the money. DAVE You can come and live with me when it's sold. In Italy everybody lives together. All three of them are getting concerned about Mike. MOOCHER Ever since you won that Italian X bike you've been acting weird. You really think you are Italian. CYRIL I .wouldn't mind thinking I was s omebody myself. All three of them stand up. MOOCHER Maybe the door is stuck. God dammit! Moocher dives in. Dave and Cyril follow. Moocher swims down to the icebox, forces the door open. They surface. As soon as they hit the surface we hear: MIKE o.s.} Yoo--hoo . THE GUYS' P.O.V. They see Mike standing on top of the rock above them. MIKE It's got no back on it! He laughs triumphantly. He's ready to dive in again when he pauses and looks. High above where he stands on the other side of the quarry hole, we see several figures. The guys are swimming toward the rocks and looking at the figures too. 5667 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 6 1-B Cont.l CLOSEUP - MIKE His face has hardened as he looks at the figures. MIKE What the hell are they doing here? X ANOTHER ANGLE Dave, Moocher and Cyril are standing on the rocks below Mike. Mike is still on top of the rock. High above him are the College Kids. Three guys and three girls. One of the guys is standing on the ledge above the water. Our guys are looking at the College Kid on the ledge. He seems intent on diving into the water. It's a distance of at least eighty feet. He pushes off and dives in executing a beautiful somersault into a swan dive. CLOSEUP - OUR GUYS They are stunned. CLOSEUP - MIKE He's obviously envious.. He looks from the diver toward the guys and seems to feel his position undermined. CYRIL I've never seen anyone dive off from there. MIS BASTARDS[ (CLIMBING DOWN THE ROCK) They've got indoor pools and outdoor pools on the campus but they got to come here. (Joins the guys) It's my goddamn quarry. Cyril assumes a very dramatic posture. Sings to the theme from Exodus. CYRIL This hole! This quarry hole is mine! MIKE Hey, screw you, Cyril. Let's get out of here. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6 6. 8 7 EXT. QUARRY - DAY 1-C They are retracing their steps out of the quarry. Mike is leading. -Moocher is behind him. Dave is at the end. He's carrying a huge trophy casually. X MIKE o.s.) If they re going to come here then we'll go on .the campus. MED. SHOT - MIKE'S CAR 1-D A racing bicycle is on top of the car. The guys are in the car and the car is moving fast through the dirt road leading out of the quarries. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 2 Mike is speeding through the town. A huge billboard with the Marlboro Man whizzes past us.. INT. MIKE'S CAR - Mike looks angry. He's got an unlit cigarette in his mouth. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 3 A car lot is on the right. "CAMPUS CARS.", MOOCHER Isn't your dad working today? DAVE (o.s.) No, the doctor told him to take it easy. He's taking Sunday's off. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - CITY HALL - DAY 4 City Hall is on the left. CYRIL (O S ) That's where you go to get a marriage license, Mooch. MOOCHER (o.s.) Yeah, so what? Cyril laughs and then howls as he's hit. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" ; 6/16/78 8 OUT 5 X EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 6 Huge modern structures are looming in the distance in stark contrast to the town we just passed through. Mike's car-is speeding toward them. X EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 7 Mike's car turns into a street called Fraternity Row.- Most of the fraternities and sororities-are located along this stretch. Neat lawns line the area. The houses are enormous: an architectural mixture of old manor house and modern motel. The college kids are outside on the lawns. Some are reading. Girls in bikinis sunbathing. Guys washing their cars. Some other guys passing the football around. Transistor radios playing. Mike drives slowly. INT. MIKE'S CAR All the guys are looking out of the windows as if they were in a museum. Mike looks at the expensive cars along the way. Cyril looks at the Girls in bikinis. Moocher looks at the huge well-built guys. Dave just looks. CYRIL Going to college must do'something 'to girls' tits. Just look at them. Campussies and sororititties. (sticks head out; shouts to a couple of Girls) - Hi, there. What's your major? The Girls look up and kind of sneer. MOOCHER They sure look like they've got it made. MIKE That's because they're rich. DAVE Italians are all poor but they're happy. MIKE Maybe in Italy. Cont. 567 9 7 Cont. CYRIL I wonder what it's like to kiss a coed. I wonder about it a lot. Ahead of Mike's car we see two Guys and two Girls playing Frisbee. They are standing on the lawns and throwing the Frisbee to each other across the street. Mike's car is moving slowly forward when an ill-thrown Frisbee lands on the street. Mike sees it and speeds up. A Girl is running to get it but Mike gets there first and runs over it. Dave gets a quick look at the Girl as she stops"suddenly to keep from getting hit. The two college Guys run out and give' Mike the finger. He sees them in the rearview mirror. MIKE Hey, those bastards are giving us the finger. He slams on the brakes. MOOCHER Hey, c'mon, Mike. We're on their turf. Dave is looking back at the Girl. The two Guys are challenging Mike, motioning to him to come back. The two Girls are trying to talk them out of it. Mike-is gunning the car. MIKE They think they own the place. MOOCHER They do. CYRIL Besides, you've humiliated them enough. In ancient Japan when you ran over a samurai's Frisbee he had to commit suicide. Just as he laughs Mike shifts the car in reverse. The two Guys and Girls are standing in the middle of the road. The Guys are coming forward thinking Mike's going to stop, but Mike has no intention of stopping. The Girls and the Guys split as Mike's car roars between them. Once again Dave catches a fleeting glimpse of the Girl. Having scattered them, Mike makes a U-turn and drives away in the direction he came from. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" 8/12/78 10 7 Cont.1 CLOSEUP - THE COLLEGE KIDS The girl Dave saw, KATHERINE, is looking after the car holding a cracked Frisbee in her hand. The tall well-built guy next to her, ROD, her boyfriend, looks real upset. He is wearing a Little 500 T-shirt. ROD Dumbass cutters. Goddamn redneck retards. OUT 8 CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE 9 riding. A Neapolitan melody plays as Dave rides holding his trophy:. a romantic song of the south and not southern Indiana. The small houses could be Italian houses to Dave. The people sitting on porches and steps could be Italians. Dave waves like a returning hero. DAVE Buon giornol Buon giornol (SPOTS SOME SMALL CHILDREN) Hey, bambino. The people and the kids look at him like he's an oddball, but Dave does not notice. A woman is shaking a rug ahead of him, and she looks so Italian that he can't help but smile. A big blonde GIRL is coming out of the house dressed in a waitress outfit. She sees Dave. G= Dave...is Moocher home? But Dave just rides past her in a daydream. CLOSEUP - A COUPLE ON A PORCH They're older PEOPLE. The Man is drinking a beer. WOMAN Tsk. Tsk. He was as normal as pumpkin pie and'now look x at him. The Man lets out a long beer belch. WOMAN His poor parents. 5 67 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 11 _ X l f T. BLASE HOUSE - DAY 10 MR. BLASE is sitting at a kitchen table. MRS. BLASE is boiling water. Mr. Blase does not look happy. He's got a flyswatter in his hand. He sees a fly. Whack. He hits it. He misses. MR. BLASE It's that cologne he wears. MRS. BLASE Neapolitan Sunset, it's called. MR. BLASE Well, it smells like fruit punch to me and it attracts flies. Mrs. Blase comes over and pours some hot water into his cup. She takes a package of Sanka from her apron pocket and puts it in the saucer. MRS. BLASE There. Mrs. Blase looks at the table. MR. BLASE This is itl MRS. BLASE You have to watch your diet. MR. BLASE Diet, if anybody found out I was on the diet they'd laugh me out of town. A diet. MRS. BLASE You know what the doctor said. At your age... MR. BLASE At my agel What the hell do you mean at my age. MRS. BLASE He says you have a bad heart. MR. BLASE Yeah, but it's got nothing to do with my age. It's our son that's ruining my heart, Evelyn. What's he going to do? He wanted a year with those bums so I gave him a year. CONT 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 12 X 10 Cont. MRS. BLASE It hasn't been a year yet. MR. BLASE But, Evelyn. Look whatts happened to him. He's turned into a ity; It was funny at first but it's not funny anymore. Ciao, Papa. Ciao, Mama. Arrivaderchit That's ity talk. MRS. BLASE It's just hero worship. He says the Italians are the best bike racers in'the world and he... MR. BLASE This is America, Evelyn. Only paper boys ride bikes and they earn money doing it. MRS. BLASE Re did win his bicycle and he was quite sickly 'til he started racing around and in three years ._ ne's... MR. BLASE (INTERRUPTS) So now his body's fine but his mind is gone. He used to be a smart kid. I thought he was going to goy to college. MRS. BLASE I thought you didn't want him to go to college. MR. BLASE Why should he go to college? I didn't go to college. When I was nineteen I was working in the quarries ten hours a day. MRS. BLASE But most of the quarries have shut down. MR. BLASE Let him find another job. MRS. BLASE But there aren't any jobs. 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/15/78 13 10 Cont.1 MR. BLASE Let him look at least. Let him come home tired from looking. He's never tired. MRS. BLASE He's young. MR. BLASE When I was young I was tired. I had my own place at seventeen. MRS. BLASE He says Italian families stay together, MR. BLASE BUT WE ARE NOT ITALIANI MRS. BLASE I know. It's just that I come from a big family myself. . .and it really was kind of nice... (smiles, half EMBARRASSED) He thinks we should have another kid. MR. BLASE What?t Dave enters carrying his trophy. DAVE Ah, buon giorno, Papa. MR. BLASE I'm your goddamned father, not papa. DAVE Buon giorno, Mama. MR. BLASE She's your goddamn mother. Whatcha do -- win again? Dave opens the fridge and takes out a hunk of cheese and a hunk of salami and starts eating. Mr. Blase looks at him like a wolf and then he looks at half a grapefruit in front of him. He finds it unbearable to watch him chew. Cont. 567 REVISED - "B.ANBINO" - 8/15/78 14 10 Cont.2 DAVE Yes, the victory ...she was easy. But the promoter...'fondatore' ...He says the Italian team...it will come maybe soon...and I will race with the best...ITALIANO. X Like the nightingale they sing, like the eagles they fly. Mr. Blase can't bear to watch him eat. He's starved. MR. BLASE Speaking of flies...there's a helluva lot of flies following you into the house. DAVE Fly in Italian is 'mosca.' MR. BLASE Well in English it's a pest. And speaking of pests... Mrs. Blase senses an argument. MRS .. BLASE It's a nice trophy isn't it, dear? MR. BLASE Yeah, so what. I've lived fifty years without ever getting a trophy. DAVE You never got trophy, Papa? MR. BLASE No, never, and what's more... Dave interrupts. DAVE Here, Papa. I give you. You are 'Numero Uno.' King Papa. Dave hands him the trophy. Mr. Blase is stunned. He'takes it. Before he can even think to give it back Dave kisses him on both cheeks. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/15/78 MR. BLASE Don't do thatl How many times... DAVE Now I'have to go and take a shower. (starts to leave AND PAUSES) Such a big house and so few people. I wish I had plenty of fratelly and sorelly to greet me when I come home and to wave when I go. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 15 10 Cont.3 Dave leaves. Mrs. Blase sighs. She too would like a big family. Mr. Blase is holding the trophy and looking at it. Neapolitan music is heard coming from Dave's room. Mr. Blase has had it. MR. BLASE There'-s that ity music again. X I'm going to have it out with him now. He goes to Dave's room carrying the trophy with him. Mrs. Blase follows him a few steps and stops. She waits... listening. She is apprehensive. She wants to follow and help Dave out but she stays behind wringing her hands. Mr. Blase reappears looking quite stunned. He's holding the trophy in one hand along his side. MRS. BLASE What's the matter? MR. BLASE HE'S SHAVINGL MRS. BLASE Well, so what? MR. BLASE His legs, Evelyn. He's shaving X his legs. I saw him. His legs. MT. DAVE' S BATHROOM 11 Huamoing along with the record player Dave is shaving away at his overly-lathered legs. OUT 12 CUT TO: INT. DAVE'S ROOM - CLOSEUP - THE STEREO - DAY 13 A record is turning. On top of the dust cover we see an album cover: ENRICO GIMDNDI SINGS NEAPOLITAN FAVORITES. X The CAMERA MOVES SLOWLY AROUND his room. There are bicycle trophies everywhere. Posters of Italian racers. Posters of Italian movies. Magazine covers and newspaper clippings from Italian racing magazines. Bicycle parts: Spare wheels...cranks...pedals. Several bicycle jerseys hanging on the doorknob.. ENRICO GINSONDI sings during.this tour of Dave's room. Dave comes out of the shower humming along. A cat comes to greet him, meowing. DAVE Ah, there you are Fellini... Hungry, eh? Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 16 13 Cont. He goes to a drawer and takes out a can of "Chef Boy-ar-dee" spaghetti and meatballs. Still humming, he opens the can and dumps the food into a deep ashtray with "CINZANO" written on the sides. DAVE Mangiare...mangiare... Be looks at the posters of the bicycle riders. He looks in the mirror. He takes a comb and combs his hair back in the "continental" style. Then he smiles. He picks up a book: "ITALIAN PEASE BOOK" and lies down on the bed to read it. EXT. MR. BLASE'S USED CAR LOT - DAY 14 A big sign: "CAMPUS CARS." The car lot is nowhere near the campus but the sign is considered good business. All around the car lot are other signs: BEST DEAL IN TOWN. CARS WITH A COLLEGE EDUCATION. The cars themselves have signs on them: "GRAD SCHOOL SPECIAL." "ENGLISH MAJOR" PhD" "HOMECOMING QUEEN" "CUM LAUDE" "MAGNA CUM LAUDE." CLOSEUP - MR. BLASE AND CUSTOMER The CUSTOMER is a young college kid. Mr. Blase is showing him the "HOMECOMING QUEEN." MR. BLASE It gets thirty miles to a gallon, X of course the mileage you get may vary. It's a beaut, right? Right. You sure know how to pick them. Frankly this is the best car on the lot. Quality product. DAVE (o.s. ) Ciao, Papal Mr. Blase cringes. Looks up. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE He's on his bike across the street. He's waving. DAVE'S P.O.V. Mr. Blase is looking at his Customer pretending he has no idea who Dave is. He shrugs and turns his back and quickly glances over his shoulder as Dave rides away. 567 17 EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 15 Students are everywhere and so are classroom buildings. Tall, new, limestone structures resembling office buildings. Students sit on the steps outside the buildings. They are lying around on the grass and walking to and from classes. All of them have books in hand. The wind is blowing. CLOSEUP - DAVE He's sitting next to his bike on the grass and looking around at all of them. In his hands he has his Italian Phrase Book: the book being his admission ticket into this world. It's obvious he's feeling a little out of place, but he enjoys looking at the campus world. A campus Police Car drives by and Dave quickly hides his face in the book. Waits for it to pass and when he looks up he is struck by something. MED. SHOT - KATHERINE - DAVE'S P.0.V. She's coming out of a classroom building with a bunch of books and papers in her hands. The wind is blowing her hair back. The CAMERA ZOOMS IN ON her face, isolating her from all the others, just as Dave is doing. CLOSEUP - DAVE His mouth is open. He blinks once. He swallows. DAVE Mama mia I CUT TO: MED. SHOT - KATHERINE As she's walking, she transfers her books from one hand to the other. A piece of paper escapes her and flies away in the wind. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE He sees the paper fly away and jumps up. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE She tries to go after the paper but the traffic keeps her from crossing the street. The paper's flying away. She gives up, and turns toward the parking lot just as we see Dave on his Cont. 567 18 15 Cont. bicycle chasing after the paper. He cuts through the cars, he cuts in front of them. The horns blow. The brakes screech. All Dave sees is the paper. He's on a mission. He cuts through the pedestrians crossing the street maneuvering brilliantly. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - A COLLEGE GUY He's just walking. He sees the piece of paper flying around and grabs it casually. Just as he's ready to read it a hand appears in the FRAME and snatches it away from him. It's Dave, riding away with the piece of paper in his hand. The College Guy just stands and looks after him. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE - ON A MOTOR SCOOTER 16 She's driving home. In her rearview mirror she spots something. A bicycle rider. He seems to be gaining on her. She speeds up almost instinctively. CUT TO: ANGLE ON DAVE - ON THE BIKE He's. got the paper in his mouth and he speeds up too. He shifts his gear. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE She's riding along. She glances in the rearview mirror and sees Dave quite close behind her with the paper in his mouth. She shifts her gears too. She smiles a little. CUT TO: ANGLE ON DAVE He's close enough to shout. He opens his mouth to shout. The paper flies out but he quickly catches it in mid-air. DAVE Signorina... He has momentarily lost ground on her but he sticks the paper in his mouth and pours it on. CUT TO: Cont. 5 67 REVISED - "BAMBINO"_ 8/12/78 19 16 Cont. ANGLE ON KATHERINE She's crossing the street just as the light changes. Dave crosses on the red light. Once again he's nearly hit by several cars. He follows Katherine up the hill leading to Fraternity Row. He overtakes her just as. she's about to turn into the drive leading to her sorority. But Dave is there on her right preventing her-from turning. She too almost hits him. She slams on her brakes. Dave slams on his. They come to a dead stop. DAVE Signorina...You... He's handing her the paper but then he pauses and pulls it back just as she's about to take it. He wipes the saliva off the paper on his jersey, and then gives it to her. DAVE It is yours...no? She takes the paper and smiles. Then she laughs. KATHERINE You mean you've been chasing me with this? Well, that's redly something. Thank you very much. Talk about chivalry. Dave is just looking at her. She's never seen anyone look at her quite like that. She's a bit confused. KATHERINE Well, thanks again. DAVE Is nothing...niente...signorina. KATHERINE What're you...an exchange student or something? - DAVE Si. I am Italian. My name is ENRICO GIMONDI. X KATHERINE And mine is Katherine Maxwell. DAVE Ah, Katherinal Cont. 367 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 20 X 16 Cont.l She likes the sound of this. But the way Dave looks at her is unsettling. KATHERINE Well, thanks again, again. 'BYE DAVE Ciao,. Katherina. Dave'rides away. She looks after him. OUT 17- 19 EXT. MOOCHER'S HOUSE - DAY 20 There's a big CAMPUS REALTY sign outside the house with a FOR-SALE tacked over it. NANCY is walking up to the screen door. She knocks. Moocher appears holding a huge barbell at shoulder height. They smile nervously at each other. MOOCHER NANCYL NANCY I was just on my way to work... Come in. He pushes the door open with one end of the barbell and lets her in checking the street to make sure nobody saw her. She goes in. Moocher shuts the other door too. INT. MOOCHER'S HOUSE - DAY 20-A The two room house is empty except for a sleeping bag and a wooden foot locker -- Moocher resumes working with the barbells. NANCY You know what? MOOCHER No, what? NANCY I'm leaving home that's what. MOOCHER Whatl Where're you going? Cont. 567 AiEVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 w 21 X 20-A Cont. NANCY About five blocks south. I found a nice little house to rent. It's so cute I could scream. My folks said I could have some'of their furniture from the basement. Maybe you could give me a hand...moving. MOOCHER Sure...if...If I'm not busy. You know. How's the Job? NANCY You know what! Frank said if I keep up the good work it'll just be a matter of time before I become a head cashier. I should go now. MOOCHER Maybe...eh...Maybe I'll walk you to work. I have to go that way anyway. She smiles, happy at the prospect of a nice walk together. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 21 Dave and Cyril are going through the outskirts of the campus. Dave is riding his bike slowly. Cyril is jogging along. They go past

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Breaking Away Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "BAMBINO" [ PRODUCED AS "BREAKING AWAY" ] Written by Steve Tesich June 9, 1978 FADE IN EXT. QUARRY OUTSKIRTS - DAY 1 A narrow dirt road totally surrounded by thick vegetation. Here and there we see a huge block of stone blocking the road. The sun is shining but it has a hard time making it through the foliage. In the distance we see four guys walking TOWARD the CAMERA. There is a swagger to their walk. MII is singing. The others are humming along. The melody of the song of "0 Bury Me Not On the Lone Prairie" but it's a loose version. MIME AND WHEN I DIE...WON'T YOU BURY ME ON THE"PARKING LOT OF THE A AND P BLOW OUT THE CANDLES AND BLOW OUT TIE LAMPS AND LIGHT MY PYRE WITH MY TRADING STAMPS I HAD TWO BOOKS BUT I NEEDED THREE R TO DELIVER ME FROM THE A AND P. I HAD THREE BOOKS BUT I NEEDED FOUR TO GO TO HEAVEN AND REDEEM MY SOUL. By this time the four are in front of the CAMERA. Mike is handsome and well built. CYRIL is tall and skinny. MOOCHER is very short. DAVE, hanging back a little, is carrying a large trophy. DAVE Bravo, Mike! Bravo! Bellisimot CYRIL Did you really make all that up? They pass. ANOTHER ANGLE The presence of the quarry is felt much stronger now. More and more blocks of cut stone appear. The guys are dwarfed by them. They have to climb over some. MIKE I sent away for this stuff from Wyoming. It'll tell you everything. Since you don't believe me maybe you'll believe it when you see it. CYRIL And we'd work on the same ranch and sleep in the bunkhouse together, eh? Cont. 567 REVISED '"BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 2 X 1 Cont. MOOCHER That's the whole point. CYRIL I always miss the whole point. MOOCHER It'd be nice to have a paying Job again, that's for sure. DAVE Niente laborare. Niente mangare. MIKE What's that mean? DAVE You don't work. You don't eat. CYRIL That's a terrible thing to say. MED. SHOT The quarries are felt even more now. Walls of stone rise up around the guys. CYRIL Are you really going to shave your legs? DAVE Certo. All the Italians do it. MIKE That's some country. The women don't shave theirs. CYRIL STOP! (pauses as if THUNDERSTRUCK; hand on heart) It was somewhere along here that I lost all interest in life. Ah, right over there. I.saw Dolores Reineke and fat Marvin. Why? Why Dolores? MOOCHER They're married now. Coat. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 3 X 1 Cont.1 MIRE You see what I saved you from, Cyril. Had I not told you about the two of them you never would have followed them out here. CYRIL- Thank you, Mike. You made me lose all interest in life and I'm grateful. MIKE My brother says he saw you and Nancy. Moocher. MOOCHER When? MIKE Last Friday? MOOCHER Wasn't me. I'm not seeing her anymore. ANOTHER ANGLE They are now standing above a huge pool of water with sheer cliffs on three sides. Abandoned derricks loom in the distance. Dave is now humming softly a Neapolitan song. They begin the descent. CYRIL I kind of miss school. You know. This will be the first time nobody's going to ask us to write a theme about how we spent our summer. MIKE Remember the Tomb of the Unknown Substitute Teacher. MOOCHER She believed us too. MIKE (TEACHER'S VOICE) Sex spelled backwards x-es. CYRIL When you're sixteen they call it sweet sixteen. When you're eighteen you get to drink, see dirty movies and vote. But what the hell do you do when you're nineteen. 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 3-A X 1 Cont.2 MIKE You leave home. CYRIL My dad says Jesus never went further than fifty miles from his home. Mike is skipping down the rocks toward the water, taking clothes off as he does. The rest follow. MIKE And look what happened to him. Mike jumps into the water. Moocher and Cyril follow. Dave looks on. FADE THROUGH TO: DAVE'S P.O.V. 1-A The guys are swimming. Dave is holding his trophy casually, enjoying the beautiful day. He pulls out a little Italian Phrase Book. Finds what he wants. DAVE Oggi fa bello,-non e vero? MIKE Sure thing, partner. MOOCHER C'mon in. DAVE I read where this Italian coach said you should never swim after a race. CYRIL Who's swimming? I'm taking a leak. Moocher and Mike splash water at him and swim away. FADE THROUGH TO: 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 4 ROCKS BY THE WATER 1-B All four guys are sunbathing looking at the water. Deep X down, at the bottom of the quarry hole we see an old icebox. Mike is staring at it. The mood is one of total relaxation. MIRE Aren't you glad we got fired from The A and P. Right now we'd be X working. MOOCHER We didn't get fired. You got- fired. We quit. MIKE One for all and all for one. MOOCHER There aren't many places, you know, that'll hire all four of USE CYRIL You know what I'd like to be? MIKE Smart. CYRIL A cartoon of some kind. Man, X that'd be great. Like when they get hit on their head with a frying pan and their head looks like a frying pan-with a handle and everything. And then they go b-r-r-r. (shakes his head) And their head comes back to normal. That'd be great.. MIKE How come you're so stupid, Cyril. CYRIL I don't know. I think I have a dumb heredity. What's your excuse, Mike? Mike hits him hard on the arm. Cyril winces. Mike stands up. He makes sure they're all watching and dives in. The guys talk as they follow his progress. DAVE You hear from your folks, Moocher? 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 5 1-B Coat. MOOCHER .. Yeah, my Dad called. He says there's a lot more jobs in'Chicago. He hasn't got anything yet. Mike has reached the icebox. He opens the door. Goes in. Shuts the door. MOOCHER He wanted to know if the house was sold. They could use the money. DAVE You can come and live with me when it's sold. In Italy everybody lives together. All three of them are getting concerned about Mike. MOOCHER Ever since you won that Italian X bike you've been acting weird. You really think you are Italian. CYRIL I .wouldn't mind thinking I was s omebody myself. All three of them stand up. MOOCHER Maybe the door is stuck. God dammit! Moocher dives in. Dave and Cyril follow. Moocher swims down to the icebox, forces the door open. They surface. As soon as they hit the surface we hear: MIKE o.s.} Yoo--hoo . THE GUYS' P.O.V. They see Mike standing on top of the rock above them. MIKE It's got no back on it! He laughs triumphantly. He's ready to dive in again when he pauses and looks. High above where he stands on the other side of the quarry hole, we see several figures. The guys are swimming toward the rocks and looking at the figures too. 5667 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 6 1-B Cont.l CLOSEUP - MIKE His face has hardened as he looks at the figures. MIKE What the hell are they doing here? X ANOTHER ANGLE Dave, Moocher and Cyril are standing on the rocks below Mike. Mike is still on top of the rock. High above him are the College Kids. Three guys and three girls. One of the guys is standing on the ledge above the water. Our guys are looking at the College Kid on the ledge. He seems intent on diving into the water. It's a distance of at least eighty feet. He pushes off and dives in executing a beautiful somersault into a swan dive. CLOSEUP - OUR GUYS They are stunned. CLOSEUP - MIKE He's obviously envious.. He looks from the diver toward the guys and seems to feel his position undermined. CYRIL I've never seen anyone dive off from there. MIS BASTARDS[ (CLIMBING DOWN THE ROCK) They've got indoor pools and outdoor pools on the campus but they got to come here. (Joins the guys) It's my goddamn quarry. Cyril assumes a very dramatic posture. Sings to the theme from Exodus. CYRIL This hole! This quarry hole is mine! MIKE Hey, screw you, Cyril. Let's get out of here. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6 6. 8 7 EXT. QUARRY - DAY 1-C They are retracing their steps out of the quarry. Mike is leading. -Moocher is behind him. Dave is at the end. He's carrying a huge trophy casually. X MIKE o.s.) If they re going to come here then we'll go on .the campus. MED. SHOT - MIKE'S CAR 1-D A racing bicycle is on top of the car. The guys are in the car and the car is moving fast through the dirt road leading out of the quarries. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 2 Mike is speeding through the town. A huge billboard with the Marlboro Man whizzes past us.. INT. MIKE'S CAR - Mike looks angry. He's got an unlit cigarette in his mouth. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 3 A car lot is on the right. "CAMPUS CARS.", MOOCHER Isn't your dad working today? DAVE (o.s.) No, the doctor told him to take it easy. He's taking Sunday's off. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - CITY HALL - DAY 4 City Hall is on the left. CYRIL (O S ) That's where you go to get a marriage license, Mooch. MOOCHER (o.s.) Yeah, so what? Cyril laughs and then howls as he's hit. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" ; 6/16/78 8 OUT 5 X EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 6 Huge modern structures are looming in the distance in stark contrast to the town we just passed through. Mike's car-is speeding toward them. X EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 7 Mike's car turns into a street called Fraternity Row.- Most of the fraternities and sororities-are located along this stretch. Neat lawns line the area. The houses are enormous: an architectural mixture of old manor house and modern motel. The college kids are outside on the lawns. Some are reading. Girls in bikinis sunbathing. Guys washing their cars. Some other guys passing the football around. Transistor radios playing. Mike drives slowly. INT. MIKE'S CAR All the guys are looking out of the windows as if they were in a museum. Mike looks at the expensive cars along the way. Cyril looks at the Girls in bikinis. Moocher looks at the huge well-built guys. Dave just looks. CYRIL Going to college must do'something 'to girls' tits. Just look at them. Campussies and sororititties. (sticks head out; shouts to a couple of Girls) - Hi, there. What's your major? The Girls look up and kind of sneer. MOOCHER They sure look like they've got it made. MIKE That's because they're rich. DAVE Italians are all poor but they're happy. MIKE Maybe in Italy. Cont. 567 9 7 Cont. CYRIL I wonder what it's like to kiss a coed. I wonder about it a lot. Ahead of Mike's car we see two Guys and two Girls playing Frisbee. They are standing on the lawns and throwing the Frisbee to each other across the street. Mike's car is moving slowly forward when an ill-thrown Frisbee lands on the street. Mike sees it and speeds up. A Girl is running to get it but Mike gets there first and runs over it. Dave gets a quick look at the Girl as she stops"suddenly to keep from getting hit. The two college Guys run out and give' Mike the finger. He sees them in the rearview mirror. MIKE Hey, those bastards are giving us the finger. He slams on the brakes. MOOCHER Hey, c'mon, Mike. We're on their turf. Dave is looking back at the Girl. The two Guys are challenging Mike, motioning to him to come back. The two Girls are trying to talk them out of it. Mike-is gunning the car. MIKE They think they own the place. MOOCHER They do. CYRIL Besides, you've humiliated them enough. In ancient Japan when you ran over a samurai's Frisbee he had to commit suicide. Just as he laughs Mike shifts the car in reverse. The two Guys and Girls are standing in the middle of the road. The Guys are coming forward thinking Mike's going to stop, but Mike has no intention of stopping. The Girls and the Guys split as Mike's car roars between them. Once again Dave catches a fleeting glimpse of the Girl. Having scattered them, Mike makes a U-turn and drives away in the direction he came from. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" 8/12/78 10 7 Cont.1 CLOSEUP - THE COLLEGE KIDS The girl Dave saw, KATHERINE, is looking after the car holding a cracked Frisbee in her hand. The tall well-built guy next to her, ROD, her boyfriend, looks real upset. He is wearing a Little 500 T-shirt. ROD Dumbass cutters. Goddamn redneck retards. OUT 8 CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE 9 riding. A Neapolitan melody plays as Dave rides holding his trophy:. a romantic song of the south and not southern Indiana. The small houses could be Italian houses to Dave. The people sitting on porches and steps could be Italians. Dave waves like a returning hero. DAVE Buon giornol Buon giornol (SPOTS SOME SMALL CHILDREN) Hey, bambino. The people and the kids look at him like he's an oddball, but Dave does not notice. A woman is shaking a rug ahead of him, and she looks so Italian that he can't help but smile. A big blonde GIRL is coming out of the house dressed in a waitress outfit. She sees Dave. G= Dave...is Moocher home? But Dave just rides past her in a daydream. CLOSEUP - A COUPLE ON A PORCH They're older PEOPLE. The Man is drinking a beer. WOMAN Tsk. Tsk. He was as normal as pumpkin pie and'now look x at him. The Man lets out a long beer belch. WOMAN His poor parents. 5 67 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 11 _ X l f T. BLASE HOUSE - DAY 10 MR. BLASE is sitting at a kitchen table. MRS. BLASE is boiling water. Mr. Blase does not look happy. He's got a flyswatter in his hand. He sees a fly. Whack. He hits it. He misses. MR. BLASE It's that cologne he wears. MRS. BLASE Neapolitan Sunset, it's called. MR. BLASE Well, it smells like fruit punch to me and it attracts flies. Mrs. Blase comes over and pours some hot water into his cup. She takes a package of Sanka from her apron pocket and puts it in the saucer. MRS. BLASE There. Mrs. Blase looks at the table. MR. BLASE This is itl MRS. BLASE You have to watch your diet. MR. BLASE Diet, if anybody found out I was on the diet they'd laugh me out of town. A diet. MRS. BLASE You know what the doctor said. At your age... MR. BLASE At my agel What the hell do you mean at my age. MRS. BLASE He says you have a bad heart. MR. BLASE Yeah, but it's got nothing to do with my age. It's our son that's ruining my heart, Evelyn. What's he going to do? He wanted a year with those bums so I gave him a year. CONT 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 12 X 10 Cont. MRS. BLASE It hasn't been a year yet. MR. BLASE But, Evelyn. Look whatts happened to him. He's turned into a ity; It was funny at first but it's not funny anymore. Ciao, Papa. Ciao, Mama. Arrivaderchit That's ity talk. MRS. BLASE It's just hero worship. He says the Italians are the best bike racers in'the world and he... MR. BLASE This is America, Evelyn. Only paper boys ride bikes and they earn money doing it. MRS. BLASE Re did win his bicycle and he was quite sickly 'til he started racing around and in three years ._ ne's... MR. BLASE (INTERRUPTS) So now his body's fine but his mind is gone. He used to be a smart kid. I thought he was going to goy to college. MRS. BLASE I thought you didn't want him to go to college. MR. BLASE Why should he go to college? I didn't go to college. When I was nineteen I was working in the quarries ten hours a day. MRS. BLASE But most of the quarries have shut down. MR. BLASE Let him find another job. MRS. BLASE But there aren't any jobs. 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/15/78 13 10 Cont.1 MR. BLASE Let him look at least. Let him come home tired from looking. He's never tired. MRS. BLASE He's young. MR. BLASE When I was young I was tired. I had my own place at seventeen. MRS. BLASE He says Italian families stay together, MR. BLASE BUT WE ARE NOT ITALIANI MRS. BLASE I know. It's just that I come from a big family myself. . .and it really was kind of nice... (smiles, half EMBARRASSED) He thinks we should have another kid. MR. BLASE What?t Dave enters carrying his trophy. DAVE Ah, buon giorno, Papa. MR. BLASE I'm your goddamned father, not papa. DAVE Buon giorno, Mama. MR. BLASE She's your goddamn mother. Whatcha do -- win again? Dave opens the fridge and takes out a hunk of cheese and a hunk of salami and starts eating. Mr. Blase looks at him like a wolf and then he looks at half a grapefruit in front of him. He finds it unbearable to watch him chew. Cont. 567 REVISED - "B.ANBINO" - 8/15/78 14 10 Cont.2 DAVE Yes, the victory ...she was easy. But the promoter...'fondatore' ...He says the Italian team...it will come maybe soon...and I will race with the best...ITALIANO. X Like the nightingale they sing, like the eagles they fly. Mr. Blase can't bear to watch him eat. He's starved. MR. BLASE Speaking of flies...there's a helluva lot of flies following you into the house. DAVE Fly in Italian is 'mosca.' MR. BLASE Well in English it's a pest. And speaking of pests... Mrs. Blase senses an argument. MRS .. BLASE It's a nice trophy isn't it, dear? MR. BLASE Yeah, so what. I've lived fifty years without ever getting a trophy. DAVE You never got trophy, Papa? MR. BLASE No, never, and what's more... Dave interrupts. DAVE Here, Papa. I give you. You are 'Numero Uno.' King Papa. Dave hands him the trophy. Mr. Blase is stunned. He'takes it. Before he can even think to give it back Dave kisses him on both cheeks. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/15/78 MR. BLASE Don't do thatl How many times... DAVE Now I'have to go and take a shower. (starts to leave AND PAUSES) Such a big house and so few people. I wish I had plenty of fratelly and sorelly to greet me when I come home and to wave when I go. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 15 10 Cont.3 Dave leaves. Mrs. Blase sighs. She too would like a big family. Mr. Blase is holding the trophy and looking at it. Neapolitan music is heard coming from Dave's room. Mr. Blase has had it. MR. BLASE There'-s that ity music again. X I'm going to have it out with him now. He goes to Dave's room carrying the trophy with him. Mrs. Blase follows him a few steps and stops. She waits... listening. She is apprehensive. She wants to follow and help Dave out but she stays behind wringing her hands. Mr. Blase reappears looking quite stunned. He's holding the trophy in one hand along his side. MRS. BLASE What's the matter? MR. BLASE HE'S SHAVINGL MRS. BLASE Well, so what? MR. BLASE His legs, Evelyn. He's shaving X his legs. I saw him. His legs. MT. DAVE' S BATHROOM 11 Huamoing along with the record player Dave is shaving away at his overly-lathered legs. OUT 12 CUT TO: INT. DAVE'S ROOM - CLOSEUP - THE STEREO - DAY 13 A record is turning. On top of the dust cover we see an album cover: ENRICO GIMDNDI SINGS NEAPOLITAN FAVORITES. X The CAMERA MOVES SLOWLY AROUND his room. There are bicycle trophies everywhere. Posters of Italian racers. Posters of Italian movies. Magazine covers and newspaper clippings from Italian racing magazines. Bicycle parts: Spare wheels...cranks...pedals. Several bicycle jerseys hanging on the doorknob.. ENRICO GINSONDI sings during.this tour of Dave's room. Dave comes out of the shower humming along. A cat comes to greet him, meowing. DAVE Ah, there you are Fellini... Hungry, eh? Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 16 13 Cont. He goes to a drawer and takes out a can of "Chef Boy-ar-dee" spaghetti and meatballs. Still humming, he opens the can and dumps the food into a deep ashtray with "CINZANO" written on the sides. DAVE Mangiare...mangiare... Be looks at the posters of the bicycle riders. He looks in the mirror. He takes a comb and combs his hair back in the "continental" style. Then he smiles. He picks up a book: "ITALIAN PEASE BOOK" and lies down on the bed to read it. EXT. MR. BLASE'S USED CAR LOT - DAY 14 A big sign: "CAMPUS CARS." The car lot is nowhere near the campus but the sign is considered good business. All around the car lot are other signs: BEST DEAL IN TOWN. CARS WITH A COLLEGE EDUCATION. The cars themselves have signs on them: "GRAD SCHOOL SPECIAL." "ENGLISH MAJOR" PhD" "HOMECOMING QUEEN" "CUM LAUDE" "MAGNA CUM LAUDE." CLOSEUP - MR. BLASE AND CUSTOMER The CUSTOMER is a young college kid. Mr. Blase is showing him the "HOMECOMING QUEEN." MR. BLASE It gets thirty miles to a gallon, X of course the mileage you get may vary. It's a beaut, right? Right. You sure know how to pick them. Frankly this is the best car on the lot. Quality product. DAVE (o.s. ) Ciao, Papal Mr. Blase cringes. Looks up. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE He's on his bike across the street. He's waving. DAVE'S P.O.V. Mr. Blase is looking at his Customer pretending he has no idea who Dave is. He shrugs and turns his back and quickly glances over his shoulder as Dave rides away. 567 17 EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 15 Students are everywhere and so are classroom buildings. Tall, new, limestone structures resembling office buildings. Students sit on the steps outside the buildings. They are lying around on the grass and walking to and from classes. All of them have books in hand. The wind is blowing. CLOSEUP - DAVE He's sitting next to his bike on the grass and looking around at all of them. In his hands he has his Italian Phrase Book: the book being his admission ticket into this world. It's obvious he's feeling a little out of place, but he enjoys looking at the campus world. A campus Police Car drives by and Dave quickly hides his face in the book. Waits for it to pass and when he looks up he is struck by something. MED. SHOT - KATHERINE - DAVE'S P.0.V. She's coming out of a classroom building with a bunch of books and papers in her hands. The wind is blowing her hair back. The CAMERA ZOOMS IN ON her face, isolating her from all the others, just as Dave is doing. CLOSEUP - DAVE His mouth is open. He blinks once. He swallows. DAVE Mama mia I CUT TO: MED. SHOT - KATHERINE As she's walking, she transfers her books from one hand to the other. A piece of paper escapes her and flies away in the wind. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE He sees the paper fly away and jumps up. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE She tries to go after the paper but the traffic keeps her from crossing the street. The paper's flying away. She gives up, and turns toward the parking lot just as we see Dave on his Cont. 567 18 15 Cont. bicycle chasing after the paper. He cuts through the cars, he cuts in front of them. The horns blow. The brakes screech. All Dave sees is the paper. He's on a mission. He cuts through the pedestrians crossing the street maneuvering brilliantly. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - A COLLEGE GUY He's just walking. He sees the piece of paper flying around and grabs it casually. Just as he's ready to read it a hand appears in the FRAME and snatches it away from him. It's Dave, riding away with the piece of paper in his hand. The College Guy just stands and looks after him. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE - ON A MOTOR SCOOTER 16 She's driving home. In her rearview mirror she spots something. A bicycle rider. He seems to be gaining on her. She speeds up almost instinctively. CUT TO: ANGLE ON DAVE - ON THE BIKE He's. got the paper in his mouth and he speeds up too. He shifts his gear. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE She's riding along. She glances in the rearview mirror and sees Dave quite close behind her with the paper in his mouth. She shifts her gears too. She smiles a little. CUT TO: ANGLE ON DAVE He's close enough to shout. He opens his mouth to shout. The paper flies out but he quickly catches it in mid-air. DAVE Signorina... He has momentarily lost ground on her but he sticks the paper in his mouth and pours it on. CUT TO: Cont. 5 67 REVISED - "BAMBINO"_ 8/12/78 19 16 Cont. ANGLE ON KATHERINE She's crossing the street just as the light changes. Dave crosses on the red light. Once again he's nearly hit by several cars. He follows Katherine up the hill leading to Fraternity Row. He overtakes her just as. she's about to turn into the drive leading to her sorority. But Dave is there on her right preventing her-from turning. She too almost hits him. She slams on her brakes. Dave slams on his. They come to a dead stop. DAVE Signorina...You... He's handing her the paper but then he pauses and pulls it back just as she's about to take it. He wipes the saliva off the paper on his jersey, and then gives it to her. DAVE It is yours...no? She takes the paper and smiles. Then she laughs. KATHERINE You mean you've been chasing me with this? Well, that's redly something. Thank you very much. Talk about chivalry. Dave is just looking at her. She's never seen anyone look at her quite like that. She's a bit confused. KATHERINE Well, thanks again. DAVE Is nothing...niente...signorina. KATHERINE What're you...an exchange student or something? - DAVE Si. I am Italian. My name is ENRICO GIMONDI. X KATHERINE And mine is Katherine Maxwell. DAVE Ah, Katherinal Cont. 367 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 20 X 16 Cont.l She likes the sound of this. But the way Dave looks at her is unsettling. KATHERINE Well, thanks again, again. 'BYE DAVE Ciao,. Katherina. Dave'rides away. She looks after him. OUT 17- 19 EXT. MOOCHER'S HOUSE - DAY 20 There's a big CAMPUS REALTY sign outside the house with a FOR-SALE tacked over it. NANCY is walking up to the screen door. She knocks. Moocher appears holding a huge barbell at shoulder height. They smile nervously at each other. MOOCHER NANCYL NANCY I was just on my way to work... Come in. He pushes the door open with one end of the barbell and lets her in checking the street to make sure nobody saw her. She goes in. Moocher shuts the other door too. INT. MOOCHER'S HOUSE - DAY 20-A The two room house is empty except for a sleeping bag and a wooden foot locker -- Moocher resumes working with the barbells. NANCY You know what? MOOCHER No, what? NANCY I'm leaving home that's what. MOOCHER Whatl Where're you going? Cont. 567 AiEVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 w 21 X 20-A Cont. NANCY About five blocks south. I found a nice little house to rent. It's so cute I could scream. My folks said I could have some'of their furniture from the basement. Maybe you could give me a hand...moving. MOOCHER Sure...if...If I'm not busy. You know. How's the Job? NANCY You know what! Frank said if I keep up the good work it'll just be a matter of time before I become a head cashier. I should go now. MOOCHER Maybe...eh...Maybe I'll walk you to work. I have to go that way anyway. She smiles, happy at the prospect of a nice walk together. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 21 Dave and Cyril are going through the outskirts of the campus. Dave is riding his bike slowly. Cyril is jogging along. They go past

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Breaking Away Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "BAMBINO" [ PRODUCED AS "BREAKING AWAY" ] Written by Steve Tesich June 9, 1978 FADE IN EXT. QUARRY OUTSKIRTS - DAY 1 A narrow dirt road totally surrounded by thick vegetation. Here and there we see a huge block of stone blocking the road. The sun is shining but it has a hard time making it through the foliage. In the distance we see four guys walking TOWARD the CAMERA. There is a swagger to their walk. MII is singing. The others are humming along. The melody of the song of "0 Bury Me Not On the Lone Prairie" but it's a loose version. MIME AND WHEN I DIE...WON'T YOU BURY ME ON THE"PARKING LOT OF THE A AND P BLOW OUT THE CANDLES AND BLOW OUT TIE LAMPS AND LIGHT MY PYRE WITH MY TRADING STAMPS I HAD TWO BOOKS BUT I NEEDED THREE R TO DELIVER ME FROM THE A AND P. I HAD THREE BOOKS BUT I NEEDED FOUR TO GO TO HEAVEN AND REDEEM MY SOUL. By this time the four are in front of the CAMERA. Mike is handsome and well built. CYRIL is tall and skinny. MOOCHER is very short. DAVE, hanging back a little, is carrying a large trophy. DAVE Bravo, Mike! Bravo! Bellisimot CYRIL Did you really make all that up? They pass. ANOTHER ANGLE The presence of the quarry is felt much stronger now. More and more blocks of cut stone appear. The guys are dwarfed by them. They have to climb over some. MIKE I sent away for this stuff from Wyoming. It'll tell you everything. Since you don't believe me maybe you'll believe it when you see it. CYRIL And we'd work on the same ranch and sleep in the bunkhouse together, eh? Cont. 567 REVISED '"BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 2 X 1 Cont. MOOCHER That's the whole point. CYRIL I always miss the whole point. MOOCHER It'd be nice to have a paying Job again, that's for sure. DAVE Niente laborare. Niente mangare. MIKE What's that mean? DAVE You don't work. You don't eat. CYRIL That's a terrible thing to say. MED. SHOT The quarries are felt even more now. Walls of stone rise up around the guys. CYRIL Are you really going to shave your legs? DAVE Certo. All the Italians do it. MIKE That's some country. The women don't shave theirs. CYRIL STOP! (pauses as if THUNDERSTRUCK; hand on heart) It was somewhere along here that I lost all interest in life. Ah, right over there. I.saw Dolores Reineke and fat Marvin. Why? Why Dolores? MOOCHER They're married now. Coat. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 3 X 1 Cont.1 MIRE You see what I saved you from, Cyril. Had I not told you about the two of them you never would have followed them out here. CYRIL- Thank you, Mike. You made me lose all interest in life and I'm grateful. MIKE My brother says he saw you and Nancy. Moocher. MOOCHER When? MIKE Last Friday? MOOCHER Wasn't me. I'm not seeing her anymore. ANOTHER ANGLE They are now standing above a huge pool of water with sheer cliffs on three sides. Abandoned derricks loom in the distance. Dave is now humming softly a Neapolitan song. They begin the descent. CYRIL I kind of miss school. You know. This will be the first time nobody's going to ask us to write a theme about how we spent our summer. MIKE Remember the Tomb of the Unknown Substitute Teacher. MOOCHER She believed us too. MIKE (TEACHER'S VOICE) Sex spelled backwards x-es. CYRIL When you're sixteen they call it sweet sixteen. When you're eighteen you get to drink, see dirty movies and vote. But what the hell do you do when you're nineteen. 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 3-A X 1 Cont.2 MIKE You leave home. CYRIL My dad says Jesus never went further than fifty miles from his home. Mike is skipping down the rocks toward the water, taking clothes off as he does. The rest follow. MIKE And look what happened to him. Mike jumps into the water. Moocher and Cyril follow. Dave looks on. FADE THROUGH TO: DAVE'S P.O.V. 1-A The guys are swimming. Dave is holding his trophy casually, enjoying the beautiful day. He pulls out a little Italian Phrase Book. Finds what he wants. DAVE Oggi fa bello,-non e vero? MIKE Sure thing, partner. MOOCHER C'mon in. DAVE I read where this Italian coach said you should never swim after a race. CYRIL Who's swimming? I'm taking a leak. Moocher and Mike splash water at him and swim away. FADE THROUGH TO: 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 4 ROCKS BY THE WATER 1-B All four guys are sunbathing looking at the water. Deep X down, at the bottom of the quarry hole we see an old icebox. Mike is staring at it. The mood is one of total relaxation. MIRE Aren't you glad we got fired from The A and P. Right now we'd be X working. MOOCHER We didn't get fired. You got- fired. We quit. MIKE One for all and all for one. MOOCHER There aren't many places, you know, that'll hire all four of USE CYRIL You know what I'd like to be? MIKE Smart. CYRIL A cartoon of some kind. Man, X that'd be great. Like when they get hit on their head with a frying pan and their head looks like a frying pan-with a handle and everything. And then they go b-r-r-r. (shakes his head) And their head comes back to normal. That'd be great.. MIKE How come you're so stupid, Cyril. CYRIL I don't know. I think I have a dumb heredity. What's your excuse, Mike? Mike hits him hard on the arm. Cyril winces. Mike stands up. He makes sure they're all watching and dives in. The guys talk as they follow his progress. DAVE You hear from your folks, Moocher? 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 5 1-B Coat. MOOCHER .. Yeah, my Dad called. He says there's a lot more jobs in'Chicago. He hasn't got anything yet. Mike has reached the icebox. He opens the door. Goes in. Shuts the door. MOOCHER He wanted to know if the house was sold. They could use the money. DAVE You can come and live with me when it's sold. In Italy everybody lives together. All three of them are getting concerned about Mike. MOOCHER Ever since you won that Italian X bike you've been acting weird. You really think you are Italian. CYRIL I .wouldn't mind thinking I was s omebody myself. All three of them stand up. MOOCHER Maybe the door is stuck. God dammit! Moocher dives in. Dave and Cyril follow. Moocher swims down to the icebox, forces the door open. They surface. As soon as they hit the surface we hear: MIKE o.s.} Yoo--hoo . THE GUYS' P.O.V. They see Mike standing on top of the rock above them. MIKE It's got no back on it! He laughs triumphantly. He's ready to dive in again when he pauses and looks. High above where he stands on the other side of the quarry hole, we see several figures. The guys are swimming toward the rocks and looking at the figures too. 5667 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 6 1-B Cont.l CLOSEUP - MIKE His face has hardened as he looks at the figures. MIKE What the hell are they doing here? X ANOTHER ANGLE Dave, Moocher and Cyril are standing on the rocks below Mike. Mike is still on top of the rock. High above him are the College Kids. Three guys and three girls. One of the guys is standing on the ledge above the water. Our guys are looking at the College Kid on the ledge. He seems intent on diving into the water. It's a distance of at least eighty feet. He pushes off and dives in executing a beautiful somersault into a swan dive. CLOSEUP - OUR GUYS They are stunned. CLOSEUP - MIKE He's obviously envious.. He looks from the diver toward the guys and seems to feel his position undermined. CYRIL I've never seen anyone dive off from there. MIS BASTARDS[ (CLIMBING DOWN THE ROCK) They've got indoor pools and outdoor pools on the campus but they got to come here. (Joins the guys) It's my goddamn quarry. Cyril assumes a very dramatic posture. Sings to the theme from Exodus. CYRIL This hole! This quarry hole is mine! MIKE Hey, screw you, Cyril. Let's get out of here. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6 6. 8 7 EXT. QUARRY - DAY 1-C They are retracing their steps out of the quarry. Mike is leading. -Moocher is behind him. Dave is at the end. He's carrying a huge trophy casually. X MIKE o.s.) If they re going to come here then we'll go on .the campus. MED. SHOT - MIKE'S CAR 1-D A racing bicycle is on top of the car. The guys are in the car and the car is moving fast through the dirt road leading out of the quarries. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 2 Mike is speeding through the town. A huge billboard with the Marlboro Man whizzes past us.. INT. MIKE'S CAR - Mike looks angry. He's got an unlit cigarette in his mouth. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 3 A car lot is on the right. "CAMPUS CARS.", MOOCHER Isn't your dad working today? DAVE (o.s.) No, the doctor told him to take it easy. He's taking Sunday's off. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - CITY HALL - DAY 4 City Hall is on the left. CYRIL (O S ) That's where you go to get a marriage license, Mooch. MOOCHER (o.s.) Yeah, so what? Cyril laughs and then howls as he's hit. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" ; 6/16/78 8 OUT 5 X EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 6 Huge modern structures are looming in the distance in stark contrast to the town we just passed through. Mike's car-is speeding toward them. X EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 7 Mike's car turns into a street called Fraternity Row.- Most of the fraternities and sororities-are located along this stretch. Neat lawns line the area. The houses are enormous: an architectural mixture of old manor house and modern motel. The college kids are outside on the lawns. Some are reading. Girls in bikinis sunbathing. Guys washing their cars. Some other guys passing the football around. Transistor radios playing. Mike drives slowly. INT. MIKE'S CAR All the guys are looking out of the windows as if they were in a museum. Mike looks at the expensive cars along the way. Cyril looks at the Girls in bikinis. Moocher looks at the huge well-built guys. Dave just looks. CYRIL Going to college must do'something 'to girls' tits. Just look at them. Campussies and sororititties. (sticks head out; shouts to a couple of Girls) - Hi, there. What's your major? The Girls look up and kind of sneer. MOOCHER They sure look like they've got it made. MIKE That's because they're rich. DAVE Italians are all poor but they're happy. MIKE Maybe in Italy. Cont. 567 9 7 Cont. CYRIL I wonder what it's like to kiss a coed. I wonder about it a lot. Ahead of Mike's car we see two Guys and two Girls playing Frisbee. They are standing on the lawns and throwing the Frisbee to each other across the street. Mike's car is moving slowly forward when an ill-thrown Frisbee lands on the street. Mike sees it and speeds up. A Girl is running to get it but Mike gets there first and runs over it. Dave gets a quick look at the Girl as she stops"suddenly to keep from getting hit. The two college Guys run out and give' Mike the finger. He sees them in the rearview mirror. MIKE Hey, those bastards are giving us the finger. He slams on the brakes. MOOCHER Hey, c'mon, Mike. We're on their turf. Dave is looking back at the Girl. The two Guys are challenging Mike, motioning to him to come back. The two Girls are trying to talk them out of it. Mike-is gunning the car. MIKE They think they own the place. MOOCHER They do. CYRIL Besides, you've humiliated them enough. In ancient Japan when you ran over a samurai's Frisbee he had to commit suicide. Just as he laughs Mike shifts the car in reverse. The two Guys and Girls are standing in the middle of the road. The Guys are coming forward thinking Mike's going to stop, but Mike has no intention of stopping. The Girls and the Guys split as Mike's car roars between them. Once again Dave catches a fleeting glimpse of the Girl. Having scattered them, Mike makes a U-turn and drives away in the direction he came from. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" 8/12/78 10 7 Cont.1 CLOSEUP - THE COLLEGE KIDS The girl Dave saw, KATHERINE, is looking after the car holding a cracked Frisbee in her hand. The tall well-built guy next to her, ROD, her boyfriend, looks real upset. He is wearing a Little 500 T-shirt. ROD Dumbass cutters. Goddamn redneck retards. OUT 8 CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE 9 riding. A Neapolitan melody plays as Dave rides holding his trophy:. a romantic song of the south and not southern Indiana. The small houses could be Italian houses to Dave. The people sitting on porches and steps could be Italians. Dave waves like a returning hero. DAVE Buon giornol Buon giornol (SPOTS SOME SMALL CHILDREN) Hey, bambino. The people and the kids look at him like he's an oddball, but Dave does not notice. A woman is shaking a rug ahead of him, and she looks so Italian that he can't help but smile. A big blonde GIRL is coming out of the house dressed in a waitress outfit. She sees Dave. G= Dave...is Moocher home? But Dave just rides past her in a daydream. CLOSEUP - A COUPLE ON A PORCH They're older PEOPLE. The Man is drinking a beer. WOMAN Tsk. Tsk. He was as normal as pumpkin pie and'now look x at him. The Man lets out a long beer belch. WOMAN His poor parents. 5 67 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 11 _ X l f T. BLASE HOUSE - DAY 10 MR. BLASE is sitting at a kitchen table. MRS. BLASE is boiling water. Mr. Blase does not look happy. He's got a flyswatter in his hand. He sees a fly. Whack. He hits it. He misses. MR. BLASE It's that cologne he wears. MRS. BLASE Neapolitan Sunset, it's called. MR. BLASE Well, it smells like fruit punch to me and it attracts flies. Mrs. Blase comes over and pours some hot water into his cup. She takes a package of Sanka from her apron pocket and puts it in the saucer. MRS. BLASE There. Mrs. Blase looks at the table. MR. BLASE This is itl MRS. BLASE You have to watch your diet. MR. BLASE Diet, if anybody found out I was on the diet they'd laugh me out of town. A diet. MRS. BLASE You know what the doctor said. At your age... MR. BLASE At my agel What the hell do you mean at my age. MRS. BLASE He says you have a bad heart. MR. BLASE Yeah, but it's got nothing to do with my age. It's our son that's ruining my heart, Evelyn. What's he going to do? He wanted a year with those bums so I gave him a year. CONT 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 12 X 10 Cont. MRS. BLASE It hasn't been a year yet. MR. BLASE But, Evelyn. Look whatts happened to him. He's turned into a ity; It was funny at first but it's not funny anymore. Ciao, Papa. Ciao, Mama. Arrivaderchit That's ity talk. MRS. BLASE It's just hero worship. He says the Italians are the best bike racers in'the world and he... MR. BLASE This is America, Evelyn. Only paper boys ride bikes and they earn money doing it. MRS. BLASE Re did win his bicycle and he was quite sickly 'til he started racing around and in three years ._ ne's... MR. BLASE (INTERRUPTS) So now his body's fine but his mind is gone. He used to be a smart kid. I thought he was going to goy to college. MRS. BLASE I thought you didn't want him to go to college. MR. BLASE Why should he go to college? I didn't go to college. When I was nineteen I was working in the quarries ten hours a day. MRS. BLASE But most of the quarries have shut down. MR. BLASE Let him find another job. MRS. BLASE But there aren't any jobs. 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/15/78 13 10 Cont.1 MR. BLASE Let him look at least. Let him come home tired from looking. He's never tired. MRS. BLASE He's young. MR. BLASE When I was young I was tired. I had my own place at seventeen. MRS. BLASE He says Italian families stay together, MR. BLASE BUT WE ARE NOT ITALIANI MRS. BLASE I know. It's just that I come from a big family myself. . .and it really was kind of nice... (smiles, half EMBARRASSED) He thinks we should have another kid. MR. BLASE What?t Dave enters carrying his trophy. DAVE Ah, buon giorno, Papa. MR. BLASE I'm your goddamned father, not papa. DAVE Buon giorno, Mama. MR. BLASE She's your goddamn mother. Whatcha do -- win again? Dave opens the fridge and takes out a hunk of cheese and a hunk of salami and starts eating. Mr. Blase looks at him like a wolf and then he looks at half a grapefruit in front of him. He finds it unbearable to watch him chew. Cont. 567 REVISED - "B.ANBINO" - 8/15/78 14 10 Cont.2 DAVE Yes, the victory ...she was easy. But the promoter...'fondatore' ...He says the Italian team...it will come maybe soon...and I will race with the best...ITALIANO. X Like the nightingale they sing, like the eagles they fly. Mr. Blase can't bear to watch him eat. He's starved. MR. BLASE Speaking of flies...there's a helluva lot of flies following you into the house. DAVE Fly in Italian is 'mosca.' MR. BLASE Well in English it's a pest. And speaking of pests... Mrs. Blase senses an argument. MRS .. BLASE It's a nice trophy isn't it, dear? MR. BLASE Yeah, so what. I've lived fifty years without ever getting a trophy. DAVE You never got trophy, Papa? MR. BLASE No, never, and what's more... Dave interrupts. DAVE Here, Papa. I give you. You are 'Numero Uno.' King Papa. Dave hands him the trophy. Mr. Blase is stunned. He'takes it. Before he can even think to give it back Dave kisses him on both cheeks. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/15/78 MR. BLASE Don't do thatl How many times... DAVE Now I'have to go and take a shower. (starts to leave AND PAUSES) Such a big house and so few people. I wish I had plenty of fratelly and sorelly to greet me when I come home and to wave when I go. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 15 10 Cont.3 Dave leaves. Mrs. Blase sighs. She too would like a big family. Mr. Blase is holding the trophy and looking at it. Neapolitan music is heard coming from Dave's room. Mr. Blase has had it. MR. BLASE There'-s that ity music again. X I'm going to have it out with him now. He goes to Dave's room carrying the trophy with him. Mrs. Blase follows him a few steps and stops. She waits... listening. She is apprehensive. She wants to follow and help Dave out but she stays behind wringing her hands. Mr. Blase reappears looking quite stunned. He's holding the trophy in one hand along his side. MRS. BLASE What's the matter? MR. BLASE HE'S SHAVINGL MRS. BLASE Well, so what? MR. BLASE His legs, Evelyn. He's shaving X his legs. I saw him. His legs. MT. DAVE' S BATHROOM 11 Huamoing along with the record player Dave is shaving away at his overly-lathered legs. OUT 12 CUT TO: INT. DAVE'S ROOM - CLOSEUP - THE STEREO - DAY 13 A record is turning. On top of the dust cover we see an album cover: ENRICO GIMDNDI SINGS NEAPOLITAN FAVORITES. X The CAMERA MOVES SLOWLY AROUND his room. There are bicycle trophies everywhere. Posters of Italian racers. Posters of Italian movies. Magazine covers and newspaper clippings from Italian racing magazines. Bicycle parts: Spare wheels...cranks...pedals. Several bicycle jerseys hanging on the doorknob.. ENRICO GINSONDI sings during.this tour of Dave's room. Dave comes out of the shower humming along. A cat comes to greet him, meowing. DAVE Ah, there you are Fellini... Hungry, eh? Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 16 13 Cont. He goes to a drawer and takes out a can of "Chef Boy-ar-dee" spaghetti and meatballs. Still humming, he opens the can and dumps the food into a deep ashtray with "CINZANO" written on the sides. DAVE Mangiare...mangiare... Be looks at the posters of the bicycle riders. He looks in the mirror. He takes a comb and combs his hair back in the "continental" style. Then he smiles. He picks up a book: "ITALIAN PEASE BOOK" and lies down on the bed to read it. EXT. MR. BLASE'S USED CAR LOT - DAY 14 A big sign: "CAMPUS CARS." The car lot is nowhere near the campus but the sign is considered good business. All around the car lot are other signs: BEST DEAL IN TOWN. CARS WITH A COLLEGE EDUCATION. The cars themselves have signs on them: "GRAD SCHOOL SPECIAL." "ENGLISH MAJOR" PhD" "HOMECOMING QUEEN" "CUM LAUDE" "MAGNA CUM LAUDE." CLOSEUP - MR. BLASE AND CUSTOMER The CUSTOMER is a young college kid. Mr. Blase is showing him the "HOMECOMING QUEEN." MR. BLASE It gets thirty miles to a gallon, X of course the mileage you get may vary. It's a beaut, right? Right. You sure know how to pick them. Frankly this is the best car on the lot. Quality product. DAVE (o.s. ) Ciao, Papal Mr. Blase cringes. Looks up. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE He's on his bike across the street. He's waving. DAVE'S P.O.V. Mr. Blase is looking at his Customer pretending he has no idea who Dave is. He shrugs and turns his back and quickly glances over his shoulder as Dave rides away. 567 17 EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 15 Students are everywhere and so are classroom buildings. Tall, new, limestone structures resembling office buildings. Students sit on the steps outside the buildings. They are lying around on the grass and walking to and from classes. All of them have books in hand. The wind is blowing. CLOSEUP - DAVE He's sitting next to his bike on the grass and looking around at all of them. In his hands he has his Italian Phrase Book: the book being his admission ticket into this world. It's obvious he's feeling a little out of place, but he enjoys looking at the campus world. A campus Police Car drives by and Dave quickly hides his face in the book. Waits for it to pass and when he looks up he is struck by something. MED. SHOT - KATHERINE - DAVE'S P.0.V. She's coming out of a classroom building with a bunch of books and papers in her hands. The wind is blowing her hair back. The CAMERA ZOOMS IN ON her face, isolating her from all the others, just as Dave is doing. CLOSEUP - DAVE His mouth is open. He blinks once. He swallows. DAVE Mama mia I CUT TO: MED. SHOT - KATHERINE As she's walking, she transfers her books from one hand to the other. A piece of paper escapes her and flies away in the wind. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE He sees the paper fly away and jumps up. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE She tries to go after the paper but the traffic keeps her from crossing the street. The paper's flying away. She gives up, and turns toward the parking lot just as we see Dave on his Cont. 567 18 15 Cont. bicycle chasing after the paper. He cuts through the cars, he cuts in front of them. The horns blow. The brakes screech. All Dave sees is the paper. He's on a mission. He cuts through the pedestrians crossing the street maneuvering brilliantly. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - A COLLEGE GUY He's just walking. He sees the piece of paper flying around and grabs it casually. Just as he's ready to read it a hand appears in the FRAME and snatches it away from him. It's Dave, riding away with the piece of paper in his hand. The College Guy just stands and looks after him. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE - ON A MOTOR SCOOTER 16 She's driving home. In her rearview mirror she spots something. A bicycle rider. He seems to be gaining on her. She speeds up almost instinctively. CUT TO: ANGLE ON DAVE - ON THE BIKE He's. got the paper in his mouth and he speeds up too. He shifts his gear. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE She's riding along. She glances in the rearview mirror and sees Dave quite close behind her with the paper in his mouth. She shifts her gears too. She smiles a little. CUT TO: ANGLE ON DAVE He's close enough to shout. He opens his mouth to shout. The paper flies out but he quickly catches it in mid-air. DAVE Signorina... He has momentarily lost ground on her but he sticks the paper in his mouth and pours it on. CUT TO: Cont. 5 67 REVISED - "BAMBINO"_ 8/12/78 19 16 Cont. ANGLE ON KATHERINE She's crossing the street just as the light changes. Dave crosses on the red light. Once again he's nearly hit by several cars. He follows Katherine up the hill leading to Fraternity Row. He overtakes her just as. she's about to turn into the drive leading to her sorority. But Dave is there on her right preventing her-from turning. She too almost hits him. She slams on her brakes. Dave slams on his. They come to a dead stop. DAVE Signorina...You... He's handing her the paper but then he pauses and pulls it back just as she's about to take it. He wipes the saliva off the paper on his jersey, and then gives it to her. DAVE It is yours...no? She takes the paper and smiles. Then she laughs. KATHERINE You mean you've been chasing me with this? Well, that's redly something. Thank you very much. Talk about chivalry. Dave is just looking at her. She's never seen anyone look at her quite like that. She's a bit confused. KATHERINE Well, thanks again. DAVE Is nothing...niente...signorina. KATHERINE What're you...an exchange student or something? - DAVE Si. I am Italian. My name is ENRICO GIMONDI. X KATHERINE And mine is Katherine Maxwell. DAVE Ah, Katherinal Cont. 367 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 20 X 16 Cont.l She likes the sound of this. But the way Dave looks at her is unsettling. KATHERINE Well, thanks again, again. 'BYE DAVE Ciao,. Katherina. Dave'rides away. She looks after him. OUT 17- 19 EXT. MOOCHER'S HOUSE - DAY 20 There's a big CAMPUS REALTY sign outside the house with a FOR-SALE tacked over it. NANCY is walking up to the screen door. She knocks. Moocher appears holding a huge barbell at shoulder height. They smile nervously at each other. MOOCHER NANCYL NANCY I was just on my way to work... Come in. He pushes the door open with one end of the barbell and lets her in checking the street to make sure nobody saw her. She goes in. Moocher shuts the other door too. INT. MOOCHER'S HOUSE - DAY 20-A The two room house is empty except for a sleeping bag and a wooden foot locker -- Moocher resumes working with the barbells. NANCY You know what? MOOCHER No, what? NANCY I'm leaving home that's what. MOOCHER Whatl Where're you going? Cont. 567 AiEVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 w 21 X 20-A Cont. NANCY About five blocks south. I found a nice little house to rent. It's so cute I could scream. My folks said I could have some'of their furniture from the basement. Maybe you could give me a hand...moving. MOOCHER Sure...if...If I'm not busy. You know. How's the Job? NANCY You know what! Frank said if I keep up the good work it'll just be a matter of time before I become a head cashier. I should go now. MOOCHER Maybe...eh...Maybe I'll walk you to work. I have to go that way anyway. She smiles, happy at the prospect of a nice walk together. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 21 Dave and Cyril are going through the outskirts of the campus. Dave is riding his bike slowly. Cyril is jogging along. They go past

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Breaking Away Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "BAMBINO" [ PRODUCED AS "BREAKING AWAY" ] Written by Steve Tesich June 9, 1978 FADE IN EXT. QUARRY OUTSKIRTS - DAY 1 A narrow dirt road totally surrounded by thick vegetation. Here and there we see a huge block of stone blocking the road. The sun is shining but it has a hard time making it through the foliage. In the distance we see four guys walking TOWARD the CAMERA. There is a swagger to their walk. MII is singing. The others are humming along. The melody of the song of "0 Bury Me Not On the Lone Prairie" but it's a loose version. MIME AND WHEN I DIE...WON'T YOU BURY ME ON THE"PARKING LOT OF THE A AND P BLOW OUT THE CANDLES AND BLOW OUT TIE LAMPS AND LIGHT MY PYRE WITH MY TRADING STAMPS I HAD TWO BOOKS BUT I NEEDED THREE R TO DELIVER ME FROM THE A AND P. I HAD THREE BOOKS BUT I NEEDED FOUR TO GO TO HEAVEN AND REDEEM MY SOUL. By this time the four are in front of the CAMERA. Mike is handsome and well built. CYRIL is tall and skinny. MOOCHER is very short. DAVE, hanging back a little, is carrying a large trophy. DAVE Bravo, Mike! Bravo! Bellisimot CYRIL Did you really make all that up? They pass. ANOTHER ANGLE The presence of the quarry is felt much stronger now. More and more blocks of cut stone appear. The guys are dwarfed by them. They have to climb over some. MIKE I sent away for this stuff from Wyoming. It'll tell you everything. Since you don't believe me maybe you'll believe it when you see it. CYRIL And we'd work on the same ranch and sleep in the bunkhouse together, eh? Cont. 567 REVISED '"BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 2 X 1 Cont. MOOCHER That's the whole point. CYRIL I always miss the whole point. MOOCHER It'd be nice to have a paying Job again, that's for sure. DAVE Niente laborare. Niente mangare. MIKE What's that mean? DAVE You don't work. You don't eat. CYRIL That's a terrible thing to say. MED. SHOT The quarries are felt even more now. Walls of stone rise up around the guys. CYRIL Are you really going to shave your legs? DAVE Certo. All the Italians do it. MIKE That's some country. The women don't shave theirs. CYRIL STOP! (pauses as if THUNDERSTRUCK; hand on heart) It was somewhere along here that I lost all interest in life. Ah, right over there. I.saw Dolores Reineke and fat Marvin. Why? Why Dolores? MOOCHER They're married now. Coat. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 3 X 1 Cont.1 MIRE You see what I saved you from, Cyril. Had I not told you about the two of them you never would have followed them out here. CYRIL- Thank you, Mike. You made me lose all interest in life and I'm grateful. MIKE My brother says he saw you and Nancy. Moocher. MOOCHER When? MIKE Last Friday? MOOCHER Wasn't me. I'm not seeing her anymore. ANOTHER ANGLE They are now standing above a huge pool of water with sheer cliffs on three sides. Abandoned derricks loom in the distance. Dave is now humming softly a Neapolitan song. They begin the descent. CYRIL I kind of miss school. You know. This will be the first time nobody's going to ask us to write a theme about how we spent our summer. MIKE Remember the Tomb of the Unknown Substitute Teacher. MOOCHER She believed us too. MIKE (TEACHER'S VOICE) Sex spelled backwards x-es. CYRIL When you're sixteen they call it sweet sixteen. When you're eighteen you get to drink, see dirty movies and vote. But what the hell do you do when you're nineteen. 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 3-A X 1 Cont.2 MIKE You leave home. CYRIL My dad says Jesus never went further than fifty miles from his home. Mike is skipping down the rocks toward the water, taking clothes off as he does. The rest follow. MIKE And look what happened to him. Mike jumps into the water. Moocher and Cyril follow. Dave looks on. FADE THROUGH TO: DAVE'S P.O.V. 1-A The guys are swimming. Dave is holding his trophy casually, enjoying the beautiful day. He pulls out a little Italian Phrase Book. Finds what he wants. DAVE Oggi fa bello,-non e vero? MIKE Sure thing, partner. MOOCHER C'mon in. DAVE I read where this Italian coach said you should never swim after a race. CYRIL Who's swimming? I'm taking a leak. Moocher and Mike splash water at him and swim away. FADE THROUGH TO: 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 4 ROCKS BY THE WATER 1-B All four guys are sunbathing looking at the water. Deep X down, at the bottom of the quarry hole we see an old icebox. Mike is staring at it. The mood is one of total relaxation. MIRE Aren't you glad we got fired from The A and P. Right now we'd be X working. MOOCHER We didn't get fired. You got- fired. We quit. MIKE One for all and all for one. MOOCHER There aren't many places, you know, that'll hire all four of USE CYRIL You know what I'd like to be? MIKE Smart. CYRIL A cartoon of some kind. Man, X that'd be great. Like when they get hit on their head with a frying pan and their head looks like a frying pan-with a handle and everything. And then they go b-r-r-r. (shakes his head) And their head comes back to normal. That'd be great.. MIKE How come you're so stupid, Cyril. CYRIL I don't know. I think I have a dumb heredity. What's your excuse, Mike? Mike hits him hard on the arm. Cyril winces. Mike stands up. He makes sure they're all watching and dives in. The guys talk as they follow his progress. DAVE You hear from your folks, Moocher? 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 5 1-B Coat. MOOCHER .. Yeah, my Dad called. He says there's a lot more jobs in'Chicago. He hasn't got anything yet. Mike has reached the icebox. He opens the door. Goes in. Shuts the door. MOOCHER He wanted to know if the house was sold. They could use the money. DAVE You can come and live with me when it's sold. In Italy everybody lives together. All three of them are getting concerned about Mike. MOOCHER Ever since you won that Italian X bike you've been acting weird. You really think you are Italian. CYRIL I .wouldn't mind thinking I was s omebody myself. All three of them stand up. MOOCHER Maybe the door is stuck. God dammit! Moocher dives in. Dave and Cyril follow. Moocher swims down to the icebox, forces the door open. They surface. As soon as they hit the surface we hear: MIKE o.s.} Yoo--hoo . THE GUYS' P.O.V. They see Mike standing on top of the rock above them. MIKE It's got no back on it! He laughs triumphantly. He's ready to dive in again when he pauses and looks. High above where he stands on the other side of the quarry hole, we see several figures. The guys are swimming toward the rocks and looking at the figures too. 5667 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 6 1-B Cont.l CLOSEUP - MIKE His face has hardened as he looks at the figures. MIKE What the hell are they doing here? X ANOTHER ANGLE Dave, Moocher and Cyril are standing on the rocks below Mike. Mike is still on top of the rock. High above him are the College Kids. Three guys and three girls. One of the guys is standing on the ledge above the water. Our guys are looking at the College Kid on the ledge. He seems intent on diving into the water. It's a distance of at least eighty feet. He pushes off and dives in executing a beautiful somersault into a swan dive. CLOSEUP - OUR GUYS They are stunned. CLOSEUP - MIKE He's obviously envious.. He looks from the diver toward the guys and seems to feel his position undermined. CYRIL I've never seen anyone dive off from there. MIS BASTARDS[ (CLIMBING DOWN THE ROCK) They've got indoor pools and outdoor pools on the campus but they got to come here. (Joins the guys) It's my goddamn quarry. Cyril assumes a very dramatic posture. Sings to the theme from Exodus. CYRIL This hole! This quarry hole is mine! MIKE Hey, screw you, Cyril. Let's get out of here. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6 6. 8 7 EXT. QUARRY - DAY 1-C They are retracing their steps out of the quarry. Mike is leading. -Moocher is behind him. Dave is at the end. He's carrying a huge trophy casually. X MIKE o.s.) If they re going to come here then we'll go on .the campus. MED. SHOT - MIKE'S CAR 1-D A racing bicycle is on top of the car. The guys are in the car and the car is moving fast through the dirt road leading out of the quarries. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 2 Mike is speeding through the town. A huge billboard with the Marlboro Man whizzes past us.. INT. MIKE'S CAR - Mike looks angry. He's got an unlit cigarette in his mouth. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 3 A car lot is on the right. "CAMPUS CARS.", MOOCHER Isn't your dad working today? DAVE (o.s.) No, the doctor told him to take it easy. He's taking Sunday's off. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - CITY HALL - DAY 4 City Hall is on the left. CYRIL (O S ) That's where you go to get a marriage license, Mooch. MOOCHER (o.s.) Yeah, so what? Cyril laughs and then howls as he's hit. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" ; 6/16/78 8 OUT 5 X EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 6 Huge modern structures are looming in the distance in stark contrast to the town we just passed through. Mike's car-is speeding toward them. X EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 7 Mike's car turns into a street called Fraternity Row.- Most of the fraternities and sororities-are located along this stretch. Neat lawns line the area. The houses are enormous: an architectural mixture of old manor house and modern motel. The college kids are outside on the lawns. Some are reading. Girls in bikinis sunbathing. Guys washing their cars. Some other guys passing the football around. Transistor radios playing. Mike drives slowly. INT. MIKE'S CAR All the guys are looking out of the windows as if they were in a museum. Mike looks at the expensive cars along the way. Cyril looks at the Girls in bikinis. Moocher looks at the huge well-built guys. Dave just looks. CYRIL Going to college must do'something 'to girls' tits. Just look at them. Campussies and sororititties. (sticks head out; shouts to a couple of Girls) - Hi, there. What's your major? The Girls look up and kind of sneer. MOOCHER They sure look like they've got it made. MIKE That's because they're rich. DAVE Italians are all poor but they're happy. MIKE Maybe in Italy. Cont. 567 9 7 Cont. CYRIL I wonder what it's like to kiss a coed. I wonder about it a lot. Ahead of Mike's car we see two Guys and two Girls playing Frisbee. They are standing on the lawns and throwing the Frisbee to each other across the street. Mike's car is moving slowly forward when an ill-thrown Frisbee lands on the street. Mike sees it and speeds up. A Girl is running to get it but Mike gets there first and runs over it. Dave gets a quick look at the Girl as she stops"suddenly to keep from getting hit. The two college Guys run out and give' Mike the finger. He sees them in the rearview mirror. MIKE Hey, those bastards are giving us the finger. He slams on the brakes. MOOCHER Hey, c'mon, Mike. We're on their turf. Dave is looking back at the Girl. The two Guys are challenging Mike, motioning to him to come back. The two Girls are trying to talk them out of it. Mike-is gunning the car. MIKE They think they own the place. MOOCHER They do. CYRIL Besides, you've humiliated them enough. In ancient Japan when you ran over a samurai's Frisbee he had to commit suicide. Just as he laughs Mike shifts the car in reverse. The two Guys and Girls are standing in the middle of the road. The Guys are coming forward thinking Mike's going to stop, but Mike has no intention of stopping. The Girls and the Guys split as Mike's car roars between them. Once again Dave catches a fleeting glimpse of the Girl. Having scattered them, Mike makes a U-turn and drives away in the direction he came from. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" 8/12/78 10 7 Cont.1 CLOSEUP - THE COLLEGE KIDS The girl Dave saw, KATHERINE, is looking after the car holding a cracked Frisbee in her hand. The tall well-built guy next to her, ROD, her boyfriend, looks real upset. He is wearing a Little 500 T-shirt. ROD Dumbass cutters. Goddamn redneck retards. OUT 8 CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE 9 riding. A Neapolitan melody plays as Dave rides holding his trophy:. a romantic song of the south and not southern Indiana. The small houses could be Italian houses to Dave. The people sitting on porches and steps could be Italians. Dave waves like a returning hero. DAVE Buon giornol Buon giornol (SPOTS SOME SMALL CHILDREN) Hey, bambino. The people and the kids look at him like he's an oddball, but Dave does not notice. A woman is shaking a rug ahead of him, and she looks so Italian that he can't help but smile. A big blonde GIRL is coming out of the house dressed in a waitress outfit. She sees Dave. G= Dave...is Moocher home? But Dave just rides past her in a daydream. CLOSEUP - A COUPLE ON A PORCH They're older PEOPLE. The Man is drinking a beer. WOMAN Tsk. Tsk. He was as normal as pumpkin pie and'now look x at him. The Man lets out a long beer belch. WOMAN His poor parents. 5 67 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 11 _ X l f T. BLASE HOUSE - DAY 10 MR. BLASE is sitting at a kitchen table. MRS. BLASE is boiling water. Mr. Blase does not look happy. He's got a flyswatter in his hand. He sees a fly. Whack. He hits it. He misses. MR. BLASE It's that cologne he wears. MRS. BLASE Neapolitan Sunset, it's called. MR. BLASE Well, it smells like fruit punch to me and it attracts flies. Mrs. Blase comes over and pours some hot water into his cup. She takes a package of Sanka from her apron pocket and puts it in the saucer. MRS. BLASE There. Mrs. Blase looks at the table. MR. BLASE This is itl MRS. BLASE You have to watch your diet. MR. BLASE Diet, if anybody found out I was on the diet they'd laugh me out of town. A diet. MRS. BLASE You know what the doctor said. At your age... MR. BLASE At my agel What the hell do you mean at my age. MRS. BLASE He says you have a bad heart. MR. BLASE Yeah, but it's got nothing to do with my age. It's our son that's ruining my heart, Evelyn. What's he going to do? He wanted a year with those bums so I gave him a year. CONT 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 12 X 10 Cont. MRS. BLASE It hasn't been a year yet. MR. BLASE But, Evelyn. Look whatts happened to him. He's turned into a ity; It was funny at first but it's not funny anymore. Ciao, Papa. Ciao, Mama. Arrivaderchit That's ity talk. MRS. BLASE It's just hero worship. He says the Italians are the best bike racers in'the world and he... MR. BLASE This is America, Evelyn. Only paper boys ride bikes and they earn money doing it. MRS. BLASE Re did win his bicycle and he was quite sickly 'til he started racing around and in three years ._ ne's... MR. BLASE (INTERRUPTS) So now his body's fine but his mind is gone. He used to be a smart kid. I thought he was going to goy to college. MRS. BLASE I thought you didn't want him to go to college. MR. BLASE Why should he go to college? I didn't go to college. When I was nineteen I was working in the quarries ten hours a day. MRS. BLASE But most of the quarries have shut down. MR. BLASE Let him find another job. MRS. BLASE But there aren't any jobs. 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/15/78 13 10 Cont.1 MR. BLASE Let him look at least. Let him come home tired from looking. He's never tired. MRS. BLASE He's young. MR. BLASE When I was young I was tired. I had my own place at seventeen. MRS. BLASE He says Italian families stay together, MR. BLASE BUT WE ARE NOT ITALIANI MRS. BLASE I know. It's just that I come from a big family myself. . .and it really was kind of nice... (smiles, half EMBARRASSED) He thinks we should have another kid. MR. BLASE What?t Dave enters carrying his trophy. DAVE Ah, buon giorno, Papa. MR. BLASE I'm your goddamned father, not papa. DAVE Buon giorno, Mama. MR. BLASE She's your goddamn mother. Whatcha do -- win again? Dave opens the fridge and takes out a hunk of cheese and a hunk of salami and starts eating. Mr. Blase looks at him like a wolf and then he looks at half a grapefruit in front of him. He finds it unbearable to watch him chew. Cont. 567 REVISED - "B.ANBINO" - 8/15/78 14 10 Cont.2 DAVE Yes, the victory ...she was easy. But the promoter...'fondatore' ...He says the Italian team...it will come maybe soon...and I will race with the best...ITALIANO. X Like the nightingale they sing, like the eagles they fly. Mr. Blase can't bear to watch him eat. He's starved. MR. BLASE Speaking of flies...there's a helluva lot of flies following you into the house. DAVE Fly in Italian is 'mosca.' MR. BLASE Well in English it's a pest. And speaking of pests... Mrs. Blase senses an argument. MRS .. BLASE It's a nice trophy isn't it, dear? MR. BLASE Yeah, so what. I've lived fifty years without ever getting a trophy. DAVE You never got trophy, Papa? MR. BLASE No, never, and what's more... Dave interrupts. DAVE Here, Papa. I give you. You are 'Numero Uno.' King Papa. Dave hands him the trophy. Mr. Blase is stunned. He'takes it. Before he can even think to give it back Dave kisses him on both cheeks. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/15/78 MR. BLASE Don't do thatl How many times... DAVE Now I'have to go and take a shower. (starts to leave AND PAUSES) Such a big house and so few people. I wish I had plenty of fratelly and sorelly to greet me when I come home and to wave when I go. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 15 10 Cont.3 Dave leaves. Mrs. Blase sighs. She too would like a big family. Mr. Blase is holding the trophy and looking at it. Neapolitan music is heard coming from Dave's room. Mr. Blase has had it. MR. BLASE There'-s that ity music again. X I'm going to have it out with him now. He goes to Dave's room carrying the trophy with him. Mrs. Blase follows him a few steps and stops. She waits... listening. She is apprehensive. She wants to follow and help Dave out but she stays behind wringing her hands. Mr. Blase reappears looking quite stunned. He's holding the trophy in one hand along his side. MRS. BLASE What's the matter? MR. BLASE HE'S SHAVINGL MRS. BLASE Well, so what? MR. BLASE His legs, Evelyn. He's shaving X his legs. I saw him. His legs. MT. DAVE' S BATHROOM 11 Huamoing along with the record player Dave is shaving away at his overly-lathered legs. OUT 12 CUT TO: INT. DAVE'S ROOM - CLOSEUP - THE STEREO - DAY 13 A record is turning. On top of the dust cover we see an album cover: ENRICO GIMDNDI SINGS NEAPOLITAN FAVORITES. X The CAMERA MOVES SLOWLY AROUND his room. There are bicycle trophies everywhere. Posters of Italian racers. Posters of Italian movies. Magazine covers and newspaper clippings from Italian racing magazines. Bicycle parts: Spare wheels...cranks...pedals. Several bicycle jerseys hanging on the doorknob.. ENRICO GINSONDI sings during.this tour of Dave's room. Dave comes out of the shower humming along. A cat comes to greet him, meowing. DAVE Ah, there you are Fellini... Hungry, eh? Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 16 13 Cont. He goes to a drawer and takes out a can of "Chef Boy-ar-dee" spaghetti and meatballs. Still humming, he opens the can and dumps the food into a deep ashtray with "CINZANO" written on the sides. DAVE Mangiare...mangiare... Be looks at the posters of the bicycle riders. He looks in the mirror. He takes a comb and combs his hair back in the "continental" style. Then he smiles. He picks up a book: "ITALIAN PEASE BOOK" and lies down on the bed to read it. EXT. MR. BLASE'S USED CAR LOT - DAY 14 A big sign: "CAMPUS CARS." The car lot is nowhere near the campus but the sign is considered good business. All around the car lot are other signs: BEST DEAL IN TOWN. CARS WITH A COLLEGE EDUCATION. The cars themselves have signs on them: "GRAD SCHOOL SPECIAL." "ENGLISH MAJOR" PhD" "HOMECOMING QUEEN" "CUM LAUDE" "MAGNA CUM LAUDE." CLOSEUP - MR. BLASE AND CUSTOMER The CUSTOMER is a young college kid. Mr. Blase is showing him the "HOMECOMING QUEEN." MR. BLASE It gets thirty miles to a gallon, X of course the mileage you get may vary. It's a beaut, right? Right. You sure know how to pick them. Frankly this is the best car on the lot. Quality product. DAVE (o.s. ) Ciao, Papal Mr. Blase cringes. Looks up. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE He's on his bike across the street. He's waving. DAVE'S P.O.V. Mr. Blase is looking at his Customer pretending he has no idea who Dave is. He shrugs and turns his back and quickly glances over his shoulder as Dave rides away. 567 17 EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 15 Students are everywhere and so are classroom buildings. Tall, new, limestone structures resembling office buildings. Students sit on the steps outside the buildings. They are lying around on the grass and walking to and from classes. All of them have books in hand. The wind is blowing. CLOSEUP - DAVE He's sitting next to his bike on the grass and looking around at all of them. In his hands he has his Italian Phrase Book: the book being his admission ticket into this world. It's obvious he's feeling a little out of place, but he enjoys looking at the campus world. A campus Police Car drives by and Dave quickly hides his face in the book. Waits for it to pass and when he looks up he is struck by something. MED. SHOT - KATHERINE - DAVE'S P.0.V. She's coming out of a classroom building with a bunch of books and papers in her hands. The wind is blowing her hair back. The CAMERA ZOOMS IN ON her face, isolating her from all the others, just as Dave is doing. CLOSEUP - DAVE His mouth is open. He blinks once. He swallows. DAVE Mama mia I CUT TO: MED. SHOT - KATHERINE As she's walking, she transfers her books from one hand to the other. A piece of paper escapes her and flies away in the wind. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE He sees the paper fly away and jumps up. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE She tries to go after the paper but the traffic keeps her from crossing the street. The paper's flying away. She gives up, and turns toward the parking lot just as we see Dave on his Cont. 567 18 15 Cont. bicycle chasing after the paper. He cuts through the cars, he cuts in front of them. The horns blow. The brakes screech. All Dave sees is the paper. He's on a mission. He cuts through the pedestrians crossing the street maneuvering brilliantly. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - A COLLEGE GUY He's just walking. He sees the piece of paper flying around and grabs it casually. Just as he's ready to read it a hand appears in the FRAME and snatches it away from him. It's Dave, riding away with the piece of paper in his hand. The College Guy just stands and looks after him. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE - ON A MOTOR SCOOTER 16 She's driving home. In her rearview mirror she spots something. A bicycle rider. He seems to be gaining on her. She speeds up almost instinctively. CUT TO: ANGLE ON DAVE - ON THE BIKE He's. got the paper in his mouth and he speeds up too. He shifts his gear. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE She's riding along. She glances in the rearview mirror and sees Dave quite close behind her with the paper in his mouth. She shifts her gears too. She smiles a little. CUT TO: ANGLE ON DAVE He's close enough to shout. He opens his mouth to shout. The paper flies out but he quickly catches it in mid-air. DAVE Signorina... He has momentarily lost ground on her but he sticks the paper in his mouth and pours it on. CUT TO: Cont. 5 67 REVISED - "BAMBINO"_ 8/12/78 19 16 Cont. ANGLE ON KATHERINE She's crossing the street just as the light changes. Dave crosses on the red light. Once again he's nearly hit by several cars. He follows Katherine up the hill leading to Fraternity Row. He overtakes her just as. she's about to turn into the drive leading to her sorority. But Dave is there on her right preventing her-from turning. She too almost hits him. She slams on her brakes. Dave slams on his. They come to a dead stop. DAVE Signorina...You... He's handing her the paper but then he pauses and pulls it back just as she's about to take it. He wipes the saliva off the paper on his jersey, and then gives it to her. DAVE It is yours...no? She takes the paper and smiles. Then she laughs. KATHERINE You mean you've been chasing me with this? Well, that's redly something. Thank you very much. Talk about chivalry. Dave is just looking at her. She's never seen anyone look at her quite like that. She's a bit confused. KATHERINE Well, thanks again. DAVE Is nothing...niente...signorina. KATHERINE What're you...an exchange student or something? - DAVE Si. I am Italian. My name is ENRICO GIMONDI. X KATHERINE And mine is Katherine Maxwell. DAVE Ah, Katherinal Cont. 367 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 20 X 16 Cont.l She likes the sound of this. But the way Dave looks at her is unsettling. KATHERINE Well, thanks again, again. 'BYE DAVE Ciao,. Katherina. Dave'rides away. She looks after him. OUT 17- 19 EXT. MOOCHER'S HOUSE - DAY 20 There's a big CAMPUS REALTY sign outside the house with a FOR-SALE tacked over it. NANCY is walking up to the screen door. She knocks. Moocher appears holding a huge barbell at shoulder height. They smile nervously at each other. MOOCHER NANCYL NANCY I was just on my way to work... Come in. He pushes the door open with one end of the barbell and lets her in checking the street to make sure nobody saw her. She goes in. Moocher shuts the other door too. INT. MOOCHER'S HOUSE - DAY 20-A The two room house is empty except for a sleeping bag and a wooden foot locker -- Moocher resumes working with the barbells. NANCY You know what? MOOCHER No, what? NANCY I'm leaving home that's what. MOOCHER Whatl Where're you going? Cont. 567 AiEVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 w 21 X 20-A Cont. NANCY About five blocks south. I found a nice little house to rent. It's so cute I could scream. My folks said I could have some'of their furniture from the basement. Maybe you could give me a hand...moving. MOOCHER Sure...if...If I'm not busy. You know. How's the Job? NANCY You know what! Frank said if I keep up the good work it'll just be a matter of time before I become a head cashier. I should go now. MOOCHER Maybe...eh...Maybe I'll walk you to work. I have to go that way anyway. She smiles, happy at the prospect of a nice walk together. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 21 Dave and Cyril are going through the outskirts of the campus. Dave is riding his bike slowly. Cyril is jogging along. They go past

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Breaking Away Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "BAMBINO" [ PRODUCED AS "BREAKING AWAY" ] Written by Steve Tesich June 9, 1978 FADE IN EXT. QUARRY OUTSKIRTS - DAY 1 A narrow dirt road totally surrounded by thick vegetation. Here and there we see a huge block of stone blocking the road. The sun is shining but it has a hard time making it through the foliage. In the distance we see four guys walking TOWARD the CAMERA. There is a swagger to their walk. MII is singing. The others are humming along. The melody of the song of "0 Bury Me Not On the Lone Prairie" but it's a loose version. MIME AND WHEN I DIE...WON'T YOU BURY ME ON THE"PARKING LOT OF THE A AND P BLOW OUT THE CANDLES AND BLOW OUT TIE LAMPS AND LIGHT MY PYRE WITH MY TRADING STAMPS I HAD TWO BOOKS BUT I NEEDED THREE R TO DELIVER ME FROM THE A AND P. I HAD THREE BOOKS BUT I NEEDED FOUR TO GO TO HEAVEN AND REDEEM MY SOUL. By this time the four are in front of the CAMERA. Mike is handsome and well built. CYRIL is tall and skinny. MOOCHER is very short. DAVE, hanging back a little, is carrying a large trophy. DAVE Bravo, Mike! Bravo! Bellisimot CYRIL Did you really make all that up? They pass. ANOTHER ANGLE The presence of the quarry is felt much stronger now. More and more blocks of cut stone appear. The guys are dwarfed by them. They have to climb over some. MIKE I sent away for this stuff from Wyoming. It'll tell you everything. Since you don't believe me maybe you'll believe it when you see it. CYRIL And we'd work on the same ranch and sleep in the bunkhouse together, eh? Cont. 567 REVISED '"BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 2 X 1 Cont. MOOCHER That's the whole point. CYRIL I always miss the whole point. MOOCHER It'd be nice to have a paying Job again, that's for sure. DAVE Niente laborare. Niente mangare. MIKE What's that mean? DAVE You don't work. You don't eat. CYRIL That's a terrible thing to say. MED. SHOT The quarries are felt even more now. Walls of stone rise up around the guys. CYRIL Are you really going to shave your legs? DAVE Certo. All the Italians do it. MIKE That's some country. The women don't shave theirs. CYRIL STOP! (pauses as if THUNDERSTRUCK; hand on heart) It was somewhere along here that I lost all interest in life. Ah, right over there. I.saw Dolores Reineke and fat Marvin. Why? Why Dolores? MOOCHER They're married now. Coat. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 3 X 1 Cont.1 MIRE You see what I saved you from, Cyril. Had I not told you about the two of them you never would have followed them out here. CYRIL- Thank you, Mike. You made me lose all interest in life and I'm grateful. MIKE My brother says he saw you and Nancy. Moocher. MOOCHER When? MIKE Last Friday? MOOCHER Wasn't me. I'm not seeing her anymore. ANOTHER ANGLE They are now standing above a huge pool of water with sheer cliffs on three sides. Abandoned derricks loom in the distance. Dave is now humming softly a Neapolitan song. They begin the descent. CYRIL I kind of miss school. You know. This will be the first time nobody's going to ask us to write a theme about how we spent our summer. MIKE Remember the Tomb of the Unknown Substitute Teacher. MOOCHER She believed us too. MIKE (TEACHER'S VOICE) Sex spelled backwards x-es. CYRIL When you're sixteen they call it sweet sixteen. When you're eighteen you get to drink, see dirty movies and vote. But what the hell do you do when you're nineteen. 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 3-A X 1 Cont.2 MIKE You leave home. CYRIL My dad says Jesus never went further than fifty miles from his home. Mike is skipping down the rocks toward the water, taking clothes off as he does. The rest follow. MIKE And look what happened to him. Mike jumps into the water. Moocher and Cyril follow. Dave looks on. FADE THROUGH TO: DAVE'S P.O.V. 1-A The guys are swimming. Dave is holding his trophy casually, enjoying the beautiful day. He pulls out a little Italian Phrase Book. Finds what he wants. DAVE Oggi fa bello,-non e vero? MIKE Sure thing, partner. MOOCHER C'mon in. DAVE I read where this Italian coach said you should never swim after a race. CYRIL Who's swimming? I'm taking a leak. Moocher and Mike splash water at him and swim away. FADE THROUGH TO: 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 4 ROCKS BY THE WATER 1-B All four guys are sunbathing looking at the water. Deep X down, at the bottom of the quarry hole we see an old icebox. Mike is staring at it. The mood is one of total relaxation. MIRE Aren't you glad we got fired from The A and P. Right now we'd be X working. MOOCHER We didn't get fired. You got- fired. We quit. MIKE One for all and all for one. MOOCHER There aren't many places, you know, that'll hire all four of USE CYRIL You know what I'd like to be? MIKE Smart. CYRIL A cartoon of some kind. Man, X that'd be great. Like when they get hit on their head with a frying pan and their head looks like a frying pan-with a handle and everything. And then they go b-r-r-r. (shakes his head) And their head comes back to normal. That'd be great.. MIKE How come you're so stupid, Cyril. CYRIL I don't know. I think I have a dumb heredity. What's your excuse, Mike? Mike hits him hard on the arm. Cyril winces. Mike stands up. He makes sure they're all watching and dives in. The guys talk as they follow his progress. DAVE You hear from your folks, Moocher? 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 5 1-B Coat. MOOCHER .. Yeah, my Dad called. He says there's a lot more jobs in'Chicago. He hasn't got anything yet. Mike has reached the icebox. He opens the door. Goes in. Shuts the door. MOOCHER He wanted to know if the house was sold. They could use the money. DAVE You can come and live with me when it's sold. In Italy everybody lives together. All three of them are getting concerned about Mike. MOOCHER Ever since you won that Italian X bike you've been acting weird. You really think you are Italian. CYRIL I .wouldn't mind thinking I was s omebody myself. All three of them stand up. MOOCHER Maybe the door is stuck. God dammit! Moocher dives in. Dave and Cyril follow. Moocher swims down to the icebox, forces the door open. They surface. As soon as they hit the surface we hear: MIKE o.s.} Yoo--hoo . THE GUYS' P.O.V. They see Mike standing on top of the rock above them. MIKE It's got no back on it! He laughs triumphantly. He's ready to dive in again when he pauses and looks. High above where he stands on the other side of the quarry hole, we see several figures. The guys are swimming toward the rocks and looking at the figures too. 5667 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 6 1-B Cont.l CLOSEUP - MIKE His face has hardened as he looks at the figures. MIKE What the hell are they doing here? X ANOTHER ANGLE Dave, Moocher and Cyril are standing on the rocks below Mike. Mike is still on top of the rock. High above him are the College Kids. Three guys and three girls. One of the guys is standing on the ledge above the water. Our guys are looking at the College Kid on the ledge. He seems intent on diving into the water. It's a distance of at least eighty feet. He pushes off and dives in executing a beautiful somersault into a swan dive. CLOSEUP - OUR GUYS They are stunned. CLOSEUP - MIKE He's obviously envious.. He looks from the diver toward the guys and seems to feel his position undermined. CYRIL I've never seen anyone dive off from there. MIS BASTARDS[ (CLIMBING DOWN THE ROCK) They've got indoor pools and outdoor pools on the campus but they got to come here. (Joins the guys) It's my goddamn quarry. Cyril assumes a very dramatic posture. Sings to the theme from Exodus. CYRIL This hole! This quarry hole is mine! MIKE Hey, screw you, Cyril. Let's get out of here. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6 6. 8 7 EXT. QUARRY - DAY 1-C They are retracing their steps out of the quarry. Mike is leading. -Moocher is behind him. Dave is at the end. He's carrying a huge trophy casually. X MIKE o.s.) If they re going to come here then we'll go on .the campus. MED. SHOT - MIKE'S CAR 1-D A racing bicycle is on top of the car. The guys are in the car and the car is moving fast through the dirt road leading out of the quarries. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 2 Mike is speeding through the town. A huge billboard with the Marlboro Man whizzes past us.. INT. MIKE'S CAR - Mike looks angry. He's got an unlit cigarette in his mouth. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 3 A car lot is on the right. "CAMPUS CARS.", MOOCHER Isn't your dad working today? DAVE (o.s.) No, the doctor told him to take it easy. He's taking Sunday's off. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - CITY HALL - DAY 4 City Hall is on the left. CYRIL (O S ) That's where you go to get a marriage license, Mooch. MOOCHER (o.s.) Yeah, so what? Cyril laughs and then howls as he's hit. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" ; 6/16/78 8 OUT 5 X EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 6 Huge modern structures are looming in the distance in stark contrast to the town we just passed through. Mike's car-is speeding toward them. X EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 7 Mike's car turns into a street called Fraternity Row.- Most of the fraternities and sororities-are located along this stretch. Neat lawns line the area. The houses are enormous: an architectural mixture of old manor house and modern motel. The college kids are outside on the lawns. Some are reading. Girls in bikinis sunbathing. Guys washing their cars. Some other guys passing the football around. Transistor radios playing. Mike drives slowly. INT. MIKE'S CAR All the guys are looking out of the windows as if they were in a museum. Mike looks at the expensive cars along the way. Cyril looks at the Girls in bikinis. Moocher looks at the huge well-built guys. Dave just looks. CYRIL Going to college must do'something 'to girls' tits. Just look at them. Campussies and sororititties. (sticks head out; shouts to a couple of Girls) - Hi, there. What's your major? The Girls look up and kind of sneer. MOOCHER They sure look like they've got it made. MIKE That's because they're rich. DAVE Italians are all poor but they're happy. MIKE Maybe in Italy. Cont. 567 9 7 Cont. CYRIL I wonder what it's like to kiss a coed. I wonder about it a lot. Ahead of Mike's car we see two Guys and two Girls playing Frisbee. They are standing on the lawns and throwing the Frisbee to each other across the street. Mike's car is moving slowly forward when an ill-thrown Frisbee lands on the street. Mike sees it and speeds up. A Girl is running to get it but Mike gets there first and runs over it. Dave gets a quick look at the Girl as she stops"suddenly to keep from getting hit. The two college Guys run out and give' Mike the finger. He sees them in the rearview mirror. MIKE Hey, those bastards are giving us the finger. He slams on the brakes. MOOCHER Hey, c'mon, Mike. We're on their turf. Dave is looking back at the Girl. The two Guys are challenging Mike, motioning to him to come back. The two Girls are trying to talk them out of it. Mike-is gunning the car. MIKE They think they own the place. MOOCHER They do. CYRIL Besides, you've humiliated them enough. In ancient Japan when you ran over a samurai's Frisbee he had to commit suicide. Just as he laughs Mike shifts the car in reverse. The two Guys and Girls are standing in the middle of the road. The Guys are coming forward thinking Mike's going to stop, but Mike has no intention of stopping. The Girls and the Guys split as Mike's car roars between them. Once again Dave catches a fleeting glimpse of the Girl. Having scattered them, Mike makes a U-turn and drives away in the direction he came from. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" 8/12/78 10 7 Cont.1 CLOSEUP - THE COLLEGE KIDS The girl Dave saw, KATHERINE, is looking after the car holding a cracked Frisbee in her hand. The tall well-built guy next to her, ROD, her boyfriend, looks real upset. He is wearing a Little 500 T-shirt. ROD Dumbass cutters. Goddamn redneck retards. OUT 8 CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE 9 riding. A Neapolitan melody plays as Dave rides holding his trophy:. a romantic song of the south and not southern Indiana. The small houses could be Italian houses to Dave. The people sitting on porches and steps could be Italians. Dave waves like a returning hero. DAVE Buon giornol Buon giornol (SPOTS SOME SMALL CHILDREN) Hey, bambino. The people and the kids look at him like he's an oddball, but Dave does not notice. A woman is shaking a rug ahead of him, and she looks so Italian that he can't help but smile. A big blonde GIRL is coming out of the house dressed in a waitress outfit. She sees Dave. G= Dave...is Moocher home? But Dave just rides past her in a daydream. CLOSEUP - A COUPLE ON A PORCH They're older PEOPLE. The Man is drinking a beer. WOMAN Tsk. Tsk. He was as normal as pumpkin pie and'now look x at him. The Man lets out a long beer belch. WOMAN His poor parents. 5 67 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 11 _ X l f T. BLASE HOUSE - DAY 10 MR. BLASE is sitting at a kitchen table. MRS. BLASE is boiling water. Mr. Blase does not look happy. He's got a flyswatter in his hand. He sees a fly. Whack. He hits it. He misses. MR. BLASE It's that cologne he wears. MRS. BLASE Neapolitan Sunset, it's called. MR. BLASE Well, it smells like fruit punch to me and it attracts flies. Mrs. Blase comes over and pours some hot water into his cup. She takes a package of Sanka from her apron pocket and puts it in the saucer. MRS. BLASE There. Mrs. Blase looks at the table. MR. BLASE This is itl MRS. BLASE You have to watch your diet. MR. BLASE Diet, if anybody found out I was on the diet they'd laugh me out of town. A diet. MRS. BLASE You know what the doctor said. At your age... MR. BLASE At my agel What the hell do you mean at my age. MRS. BLASE He says you have a bad heart. MR. BLASE Yeah, but it's got nothing to do with my age. It's our son that's ruining my heart, Evelyn. What's he going to do? He wanted a year with those bums so I gave him a year. CONT 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 12 X 10 Cont. MRS. BLASE It hasn't been a year yet. MR. BLASE But, Evelyn. Look whatts happened to him. He's turned into a ity; It was funny at first but it's not funny anymore. Ciao, Papa. Ciao, Mama. Arrivaderchit That's ity talk. MRS. BLASE It's just hero worship. He says the Italians are the best bike racers in'the world and he... MR. BLASE This is America, Evelyn. Only paper boys ride bikes and they earn money doing it. MRS. BLASE Re did win his bicycle and he was quite sickly 'til he started racing around and in three years ._ ne's... MR. BLASE (INTERRUPTS) So now his body's fine but his mind is gone. He used to be a smart kid. I thought he was going to goy to college. MRS. BLASE I thought you didn't want him to go to college. MR. BLASE Why should he go to college? I didn't go to college. When I was nineteen I was working in the quarries ten hours a day. MRS. BLASE But most of the quarries have shut down. MR. BLASE Let him find another job. MRS. BLASE But there aren't any jobs. 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/15/78 13 10 Cont.1 MR. BLASE Let him look at least. Let him come home tired from looking. He's never tired. MRS. BLASE He's young. MR. BLASE When I was young I was tired. I had my own place at seventeen. MRS. BLASE He says Italian families stay together, MR. BLASE BUT WE ARE NOT ITALIANI MRS. BLASE I know. It's just that I come from a big family myself. . .and it really was kind of nice... (smiles, half EMBARRASSED) He thinks we should have another kid. MR. BLASE What?t Dave enters carrying his trophy. DAVE Ah, buon giorno, Papa. MR. BLASE I'm your goddamned father, not papa. DAVE Buon giorno, Mama. MR. BLASE She's your goddamn mother. Whatcha do -- win again? Dave opens the fridge and takes out a hunk of cheese and a hunk of salami and starts eating. Mr. Blase looks at him like a wolf and then he looks at half a grapefruit in front of him. He finds it unbearable to watch him chew. Cont. 567 REVISED - "B.ANBINO" - 8/15/78 14 10 Cont.2 DAVE Yes, the victory ...she was easy. But the promoter...'fondatore' ...He says the Italian team...it will come maybe soon...and I will race with the best...ITALIANO. X Like the nightingale they sing, like the eagles they fly. Mr. Blase can't bear to watch him eat. He's starved. MR. BLASE Speaking of flies...there's a helluva lot of flies following you into the house. DAVE Fly in Italian is 'mosca.' MR. BLASE Well in English it's a pest. And speaking of pests... Mrs. Blase senses an argument. MRS .. BLASE It's a nice trophy isn't it, dear? MR. BLASE Yeah, so what. I've lived fifty years without ever getting a trophy. DAVE You never got trophy, Papa? MR. BLASE No, never, and what's more... Dave interrupts. DAVE Here, Papa. I give you. You are 'Numero Uno.' King Papa. Dave hands him the trophy. Mr. Blase is stunned. He'takes it. Before he can even think to give it back Dave kisses him on both cheeks. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/15/78 MR. BLASE Don't do thatl How many times... DAVE Now I'have to go and take a shower. (starts to leave AND PAUSES) Such a big house and so few people. I wish I had plenty of fratelly and sorelly to greet me when I come home and to wave when I go. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 15 10 Cont.3 Dave leaves. Mrs. Blase sighs. She too would like a big family. Mr. Blase is holding the trophy and looking at it. Neapolitan music is heard coming from Dave's room. Mr. Blase has had it. MR. BLASE There'-s that ity music again. X I'm going to have it out with him now. He goes to Dave's room carrying the trophy with him. Mrs. Blase follows him a few steps and stops. She waits... listening. She is apprehensive. She wants to follow and help Dave out but she stays behind wringing her hands. Mr. Blase reappears looking quite stunned. He's holding the trophy in one hand along his side. MRS. BLASE What's the matter? MR. BLASE HE'S SHAVINGL MRS. BLASE Well, so what? MR. BLASE His legs, Evelyn. He's shaving X his legs. I saw him. His legs. MT. DAVE' S BATHROOM 11 Huamoing along with the record player Dave is shaving away at his overly-lathered legs. OUT 12 CUT TO: INT. DAVE'S ROOM - CLOSEUP - THE STEREO - DAY 13 A record is turning. On top of the dust cover we see an album cover: ENRICO GIMDNDI SINGS NEAPOLITAN FAVORITES. X The CAMERA MOVES SLOWLY AROUND his room. There are bicycle trophies everywhere. Posters of Italian racers. Posters of Italian movies. Magazine covers and newspaper clippings from Italian racing magazines. Bicycle parts: Spare wheels...cranks...pedals. Several bicycle jerseys hanging on the doorknob.. ENRICO GINSONDI sings during.this tour of Dave's room. Dave comes out of the shower humming along. A cat comes to greet him, meowing. DAVE Ah, there you are Fellini... Hungry, eh? Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 16 13 Cont. He goes to a drawer and takes out a can of "Chef Boy-ar-dee" spaghetti and meatballs. Still humming, he opens the can and dumps the food into a deep ashtray with "CINZANO" written on the sides. DAVE Mangiare...mangiare... Be looks at the posters of the bicycle riders. He looks in the mirror. He takes a comb and combs his hair back in the "continental" style. Then he smiles. He picks up a book: "ITALIAN PEASE BOOK" and lies down on the bed to read it. EXT. MR. BLASE'S USED CAR LOT - DAY 14 A big sign: "CAMPUS CARS." The car lot is nowhere near the campus but the sign is considered good business. All around the car lot are other signs: BEST DEAL IN TOWN. CARS WITH A COLLEGE EDUCATION. The cars themselves have signs on them: "GRAD SCHOOL SPECIAL." "ENGLISH MAJOR" PhD" "HOMECOMING QUEEN" "CUM LAUDE" "MAGNA CUM LAUDE." CLOSEUP - MR. BLASE AND CUSTOMER The CUSTOMER is a young college kid. Mr. Blase is showing him the "HOMECOMING QUEEN." MR. BLASE It gets thirty miles to a gallon, X of course the mileage you get may vary. It's a beaut, right? Right. You sure know how to pick them. Frankly this is the best car on the lot. Quality product. DAVE (o.s. ) Ciao, Papal Mr. Blase cringes. Looks up. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE He's on his bike across the street. He's waving. DAVE'S P.O.V. Mr. Blase is looking at his Customer pretending he has no idea who Dave is. He shrugs and turns his back and quickly glances over his shoulder as Dave rides away. 567 17 EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 15 Students are everywhere and so are classroom buildings. Tall, new, limestone structures resembling office buildings. Students sit on the steps outside the buildings. They are lying around on the grass and walking to and from classes. All of them have books in hand. The wind is blowing. CLOSEUP - DAVE He's sitting next to his bike on the grass and looking around at all of them. In his hands he has his Italian Phrase Book: the book being his admission ticket into this world. It's obvious he's feeling a little out of place, but he enjoys looking at the campus world. A campus Police Car drives by and Dave quickly hides his face in the book. Waits for it to pass and when he looks up he is struck by something. MED. SHOT - KATHERINE - DAVE'S P.0.V. She's coming out of a classroom building with a bunch of books and papers in her hands. The wind is blowing her hair back. The CAMERA ZOOMS IN ON her face, isolating her from all the others, just as Dave is doing. CLOSEUP - DAVE His mouth is open. He blinks once. He swallows. DAVE Mama mia I CUT TO: MED. SHOT - KATHERINE As she's walking, she transfers her books from one hand to the other. A piece of paper escapes her and flies away in the wind. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE He sees the paper fly away and jumps up. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE She tries to go after the paper but the traffic keeps her from crossing the street. The paper's flying away. She gives up, and turns toward the parking lot just as we see Dave on his Cont. 567 18 15 Cont. bicycle chasing after the paper. He cuts through the cars, he cuts in front of them. The horns blow. The brakes screech. All Dave sees is the paper. He's on a mission. He cuts through the pedestrians crossing the street maneuvering brilliantly. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - A COLLEGE GUY He's just walking. He sees the piece of paper flying around and grabs it casually. Just as he's ready to read it a hand appears in the FRAME and snatches it away from him. It's Dave, riding away with the piece of paper in his hand. The College Guy just stands and looks after him. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE - ON A MOTOR SCOOTER 16 She's driving home. In her rearview mirror she spots something. A bicycle rider. He seems to be gaining on her. She speeds up almost instinctively. CUT TO: ANGLE ON DAVE - ON THE BIKE He's. got the paper in his mouth and he speeds up too. He shifts his gear. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE She's riding along. She glances in the rearview mirror and sees Dave quite close behind her with the paper in his mouth. She shifts her gears too. She smiles a little. CUT TO: ANGLE ON DAVE He's close enough to shout. He opens his mouth to shout. The paper flies out but he quickly catches it in mid-air. DAVE Signorina... He has momentarily lost ground on her but he sticks the paper in his mouth and pours it on. CUT TO: Cont. 5 67 REVISED - "BAMBINO"_ 8/12/78 19 16 Cont. ANGLE ON KATHERINE She's crossing the street just as the light changes. Dave crosses on the red light. Once again he's nearly hit by several cars. He follows Katherine up the hill leading to Fraternity Row. He overtakes her just as. she's about to turn into the drive leading to her sorority. But Dave is there on her right preventing her-from turning. She too almost hits him. She slams on her brakes. Dave slams on his. They come to a dead stop. DAVE Signorina...You... He's handing her the paper but then he pauses and pulls it back just as she's about to take it. He wipes the saliva off the paper on his jersey, and then gives it to her. DAVE It is yours...no? She takes the paper and smiles. Then she laughs. KATHERINE You mean you've been chasing me with this? Well, that's redly something. Thank you very much. Talk about chivalry. Dave is just looking at her. She's never seen anyone look at her quite like that. She's a bit confused. KATHERINE Well, thanks again. DAVE Is nothing...niente...signorina. KATHERINE What're you...an exchange student or something? - DAVE Si. I am Italian. My name is ENRICO GIMONDI. X KATHERINE And mine is Katherine Maxwell. DAVE Ah, Katherinal Cont. 367 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 20 X 16 Cont.l She likes the sound of this. But the way Dave looks at her is unsettling. KATHERINE Well, thanks again, again. 'BYE DAVE Ciao,. Katherina. Dave'rides away. She looks after him. OUT 17- 19 EXT. MOOCHER'S HOUSE - DAY 20 There's a big CAMPUS REALTY sign outside the house with a FOR-SALE tacked over it. NANCY is walking up to the screen door. She knocks. Moocher appears holding a huge barbell at shoulder height. They smile nervously at each other. MOOCHER NANCYL NANCY I was just on my way to work... Come in. He pushes the door open with one end of the barbell and lets her in checking the street to make sure nobody saw her. She goes in. Moocher shuts the other door too. INT. MOOCHER'S HOUSE - DAY 20-A The two room house is empty except for a sleeping bag and a wooden foot locker -- Moocher resumes working with the barbells. NANCY You know what? MOOCHER No, what? NANCY I'm leaving home that's what. MOOCHER Whatl Where're you going? Cont. 567 AiEVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 w 21 X 20-A Cont. NANCY About five blocks south. I found a nice little house to rent. It's so cute I could scream. My folks said I could have some'of their furniture from the basement. Maybe you could give me a hand...moving. MOOCHER Sure...if...If I'm not busy. You know. How's the Job? NANCY You know what! Frank said if I keep up the good work it'll just be a matter of time before I become a head cashier. I should go now. MOOCHER Maybe...eh...Maybe I'll walk you to work. I have to go that way anyway. She smiles, happy at the prospect of a nice walk together. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 21 Dave and Cyril are going through the outskirts of the campus. Dave is riding his bike slowly. Cyril is jogging along. They go past

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Breaking Away Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "BAMBINO" [ PRODUCED AS "BREAKING AWAY" ] Written by Steve Tesich June 9, 1978 FADE IN EXT. QUARRY OUTSKIRTS - DAY 1 A narrow dirt road totally surrounded by thick vegetation. Here and there we see a huge block of stone blocking the road. The sun is shining but it has a hard time making it through the foliage. In the distance we see four guys walking TOWARD the CAMERA. There is a swagger to their walk. MII is singing. The others are humming along. The melody of the song of "0 Bury Me Not On the Lone Prairie" but it's a loose version. MIME AND WHEN I DIE...WON'T YOU BURY ME ON THE"PARKING LOT OF THE A AND P BLOW OUT THE CANDLES AND BLOW OUT TIE LAMPS AND LIGHT MY PYRE WITH MY TRADING STAMPS I HAD TWO BOOKS BUT I NEEDED THREE R TO DELIVER ME FROM THE A AND P. I HAD THREE BOOKS BUT I NEEDED FOUR TO GO TO HEAVEN AND REDEEM MY SOUL. By this time the four are in front of the CAMERA. Mike is handsome and well built. CYRIL is tall and skinny. MOOCHER is very short. DAVE, hanging back a little, is carrying a large trophy. DAVE Bravo, Mike! Bravo! Bellisimot CYRIL Did you really make all that up? They pass. ANOTHER ANGLE The presence of the quarry is felt much stronger now. More and more blocks of cut stone appear. The guys are dwarfed by them. They have to climb over some. MIKE I sent away for this stuff from Wyoming. It'll tell you everything. Since you don't believe me maybe you'll believe it when you see it. CYRIL And we'd work on the same ranch and sleep in the bunkhouse together, eh? Cont. 567 REVISED '"BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 2 X 1 Cont. MOOCHER That's the whole point. CYRIL I always miss the whole point. MOOCHER It'd be nice to have a paying Job again, that's for sure. DAVE Niente laborare. Niente mangare. MIKE What's that mean? DAVE You don't work. You don't eat. CYRIL That's a terrible thing to say. MED. SHOT The quarries are felt even more now. Walls of stone rise up around the guys. CYRIL Are you really going to shave your legs? DAVE Certo. All the Italians do it. MIKE That's some country. The women don't shave theirs. CYRIL STOP! (pauses as if THUNDERSTRUCK; hand on heart) It was somewhere along here that I lost all interest in life. Ah, right over there. I.saw Dolores Reineke and fat Marvin. Why? Why Dolores? MOOCHER They're married now. Coat. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 3 X 1 Cont.1 MIRE You see what I saved you from, Cyril. Had I not told you about the two of them you never would have followed them out here. CYRIL- Thank you, Mike. You made me lose all interest in life and I'm grateful. MIKE My brother says he saw you and Nancy. Moocher. MOOCHER When? MIKE Last Friday? MOOCHER Wasn't me. I'm not seeing her anymore. ANOTHER ANGLE They are now standing above a huge pool of water with sheer cliffs on three sides. Abandoned derricks loom in the distance. Dave is now humming softly a Neapolitan song. They begin the descent. CYRIL I kind of miss school. You know. This will be the first time nobody's going to ask us to write a theme about how we spent our summer. MIKE Remember the Tomb of the Unknown Substitute Teacher. MOOCHER She believed us too. MIKE (TEACHER'S VOICE) Sex spelled backwards x-es. CYRIL When you're sixteen they call it sweet sixteen. When you're eighteen you get to drink, see dirty movies and vote. But what the hell do you do when you're nineteen. 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 3-A X 1 Cont.2 MIKE You leave home. CYRIL My dad says Jesus never went further than fifty miles from his home. Mike is skipping down the rocks toward the water, taking clothes off as he does. The rest follow. MIKE And look what happened to him. Mike jumps into the water. Moocher and Cyril follow. Dave looks on. FADE THROUGH TO: DAVE'S P.O.V. 1-A The guys are swimming. Dave is holding his trophy casually, enjoying the beautiful day. He pulls out a little Italian Phrase Book. Finds what he wants. DAVE Oggi fa bello,-non e vero? MIKE Sure thing, partner. MOOCHER C'mon in. DAVE I read where this Italian coach said you should never swim after a race. CYRIL Who's swimming? I'm taking a leak. Moocher and Mike splash water at him and swim away. FADE THROUGH TO: 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 4 ROCKS BY THE WATER 1-B All four guys are sunbathing looking at the water. Deep X down, at the bottom of the quarry hole we see an old icebox. Mike is staring at it. The mood is one of total relaxation. MIRE Aren't you glad we got fired from The A and P. Right now we'd be X working. MOOCHER We didn't get fired. You got- fired. We quit. MIKE One for all and all for one. MOOCHER There aren't many places, you know, that'll hire all four of USE CYRIL You know what I'd like to be? MIKE Smart. CYRIL A cartoon of some kind. Man, X that'd be great. Like when they get hit on their head with a frying pan and their head looks like a frying pan-with a handle and everything. And then they go b-r-r-r. (shakes his head) And their head comes back to normal. That'd be great.. MIKE How come you're so stupid, Cyril. CYRIL I don't know. I think I have a dumb heredity. What's your excuse, Mike? Mike hits him hard on the arm. Cyril winces. Mike stands up. He makes sure they're all watching and dives in. The guys talk as they follow his progress. DAVE You hear from your folks, Moocher? 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 5 1-B Coat. MOOCHER .. Yeah, my Dad called. He says there's a lot more jobs in'Chicago. He hasn't got anything yet. Mike has reached the icebox. He opens the door. Goes in. Shuts the door. MOOCHER He wanted to know if the house was sold. They could use the money. DAVE You can come and live with me when it's sold. In Italy everybody lives together. All three of them are getting concerned about Mike. MOOCHER Ever since you won that Italian X bike you've been acting weird. You really think you are Italian. CYRIL I .wouldn't mind thinking I was s omebody myself. All three of them stand up. MOOCHER Maybe the door is stuck. God dammit! Moocher dives in. Dave and Cyril follow. Moocher swims down to the icebox, forces the door open. They surface. As soon as they hit the surface we hear: MIKE o.s.} Yoo--hoo . THE GUYS' P.O.V. They see Mike standing on top of the rock above them. MIKE It's got no back on it! He laughs triumphantly. He's ready to dive in again when he pauses and looks. High above where he stands on the other side of the quarry hole, we see several figures. The guys are swimming toward the rocks and looking at the figures too. 5667 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 6 1-B Cont.l CLOSEUP - MIKE His face has hardened as he looks at the figures. MIKE What the hell are they doing here? X ANOTHER ANGLE Dave, Moocher and Cyril are standing on the rocks below Mike. Mike is still on top of the rock. High above him are the College Kids. Three guys and three girls. One of the guys is standing on the ledge above the water. Our guys are looking at the College Kid on the ledge. He seems intent on diving into the water. It's a distance of at least eighty feet. He pushes off and dives in executing a beautiful somersault into a swan dive. CLOSEUP - OUR GUYS They are stunned. CLOSEUP - MIKE He's obviously envious.. He looks from the diver toward the guys and seems to feel his position undermined. CYRIL I've never seen anyone dive off from there. MIS BASTARDS[ (CLIMBING DOWN THE ROCK) They've got indoor pools and outdoor pools on the campus but they got to come here. (Joins the guys) It's my goddamn quarry. Cyril assumes a very dramatic posture. Sings to the theme from Exodus. CYRIL This hole! This quarry hole is mine! MIKE Hey, screw you, Cyril. Let's get out of here. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6 6. 8 7 EXT. QUARRY - DAY 1-C They are retracing their steps out of the quarry. Mike is leading. -Moocher is behind him. Dave is at the end. He's carrying a huge trophy casually. X MIKE o.s.) If they re going to come here then we'll go on .the campus. MED. SHOT - MIKE'S CAR 1-D A racing bicycle is on top of the car. The guys are in the car and the car is moving fast through the dirt road leading out of the quarries. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 2 Mike is speeding through the town. A huge billboard with the Marlboro Man whizzes past us.. INT. MIKE'S CAR - Mike looks angry. He's got an unlit cigarette in his mouth. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 3 A car lot is on the right. "CAMPUS CARS.", MOOCHER Isn't your dad working today? DAVE (o.s.) No, the doctor told him to take it easy. He's taking Sunday's off. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - CITY HALL - DAY 4 City Hall is on the left. CYRIL (O S ) That's where you go to get a marriage license, Mooch. MOOCHER (o.s.) Yeah, so what? Cyril laughs and then howls as he's hit. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" ; 6/16/78 8 OUT 5 X EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 6 Huge modern structures are looming in the distance in stark contrast to the town we just passed through. Mike's car-is speeding toward them. X EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 7 Mike's car turns into a street called Fraternity Row.- Most of the fraternities and sororities-are located along this stretch. Neat lawns line the area. The houses are enormous: an architectural mixture of old manor house and modern motel. The college kids are outside on the lawns. Some are reading. Girls in bikinis sunbathing. Guys washing their cars. Some other guys passing the football around. Transistor radios playing. Mike drives slowly. INT. MIKE'S CAR All the guys are looking out of the windows as if they were in a museum. Mike looks at the expensive cars along the way. Cyril looks at the Girls in bikinis. Moocher looks at the huge well-built guys. Dave just looks. CYRIL Going to college must do'something 'to girls' tits. Just look at them. Campussies and sororititties. (sticks head out; shouts to a couple of Girls) - Hi, there. What's your major? The Girls look up and kind of sneer. MOOCHER They sure look like they've got it made. MIKE That's because they're rich. DAVE Italians are all poor but they're happy. MIKE Maybe in Italy. Cont. 567 9 7 Cont. CYRIL I wonder what it's like to kiss a coed. I wonder about it a lot. Ahead of Mike's car we see two Guys and two Girls playing Frisbee. They are standing on the lawns and throwing the Frisbee to each other across the street. Mike's car is moving slowly forward when an ill-thrown Frisbee lands on the street. Mike sees it and speeds up. A Girl is running to get it but Mike gets there first and runs over it. Dave gets a quick look at the Girl as she stops"suddenly to keep from getting hit. The two college Guys run out and give' Mike the finger. He sees them in the rearview mirror. MIKE Hey, those bastards are giving us the finger. He slams on the brakes. MOOCHER Hey, c'mon, Mike. We're on their turf. Dave is looking back at the Girl. The two Guys are challenging Mike, motioning to him to come back. The two Girls are trying to talk them out of it. Mike-is gunning the car. MIKE They think they own the place. MOOCHER They do. CYRIL Besides, you've humiliated them enough. In ancient Japan when you ran over a samurai's Frisbee he had to commit suicide. Just as he laughs Mike shifts the car in reverse. The two Guys and Girls are standing in the middle of the road. The Guys are coming forward thinking Mike's going to stop, but Mike has no intention of stopping. The Girls and the Guys split as Mike's car roars between them. Once again Dave catches a fleeting glimpse of the Girl. Having scattered them, Mike makes a U-turn and drives away in the direction he came from. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" 8/12/78 10 7 Cont.1 CLOSEUP - THE COLLEGE KIDS The girl Dave saw, KATHERINE, is looking after the car holding a cracked Frisbee in her hand. The tall well-built guy next to her, ROD, her boyfriend, looks real upset. He is wearing a Little 500 T-shirt. ROD Dumbass cutters. Goddamn redneck retards. OUT 8 CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE 9 riding. A Neapolitan melody plays as Dave rides holding his trophy:. a romantic song of the south and not southern Indiana. The small houses could be Italian houses to Dave. The people sitting on porches and steps could be Italians. Dave waves like a returning hero. DAVE Buon giornol Buon giornol (SPOTS SOME SMALL CHILDREN) Hey, bambino. The people and the kids look at him like he's an oddball, but Dave does not notice. A woman is shaking a rug ahead of him, and she looks so Italian that he can't help but smile. A big blonde GIRL is coming out of the house dressed in a waitress outfit. She sees Dave. G= Dave...is Moocher home? But Dave just rides past her in a daydream. CLOSEUP - A COUPLE ON A PORCH They're older PEOPLE. The Man is drinking a beer. WOMAN Tsk. Tsk. He was as normal as pumpkin pie and'now look x at him. The Man lets out a long beer belch. WOMAN His poor parents. 5 67 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 11 _ X l f T. BLASE HOUSE - DAY 10 MR. BLASE is sitting at a kitchen table. MRS. BLASE is boiling water. Mr. Blase does not look happy. He's got a flyswatter in his hand. He sees a fly. Whack. He hits it. He misses. MR. BLASE It's that cologne he wears. MRS. BLASE Neapolitan Sunset, it's called. MR. BLASE Well, it smells like fruit punch to me and it attracts flies. Mrs. Blase comes over and pours some hot water into his cup. She takes a package of Sanka from her apron pocket and puts it in the saucer. MRS. BLASE There. Mrs. Blase looks at the table. MR. BLASE This is itl MRS. BLASE You have to watch your diet. MR. BLASE Diet, if anybody found out I was on the diet they'd laugh me out of town. A diet. MRS. BLASE You know what the doctor said. At your age... MR. BLASE At my agel What the hell do you mean at my age. MRS. BLASE He says you have a bad heart. MR. BLASE Yeah, but it's got nothing to do with my age. It's our son that's ruining my heart, Evelyn. What's he going to do? He wanted a year with those bums so I gave him a year. CONT 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 12 X 10 Cont. MRS. BLASE It hasn't been a year yet. MR. BLASE But, Evelyn. Look whatts happened to him. He's turned into a ity; It was funny at first but it's not funny anymore. Ciao, Papa. Ciao, Mama. Arrivaderchit That's ity talk. MRS. BLASE It's just hero worship. He says the Italians are the best bike racers in'the world and he... MR. BLASE This is America, Evelyn. Only paper boys ride bikes and they earn money doing it. MRS. BLASE Re did win his bicycle and he was quite sickly 'til he started racing around and in three years ._ ne's... MR. BLASE (INTERRUPTS) So now his body's fine but his mind is gone. He used to be a smart kid. I thought he was going to goy to college. MRS. BLASE I thought you didn't want him to go to college. MR. BLASE Why should he go to college? I didn't go to college. When I was nineteen I was working in the quarries ten hours a day. MRS. BLASE But most of the quarries have shut down. MR. BLASE Let him find another job. MRS. BLASE But there aren't any jobs. 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/15/78 13 10 Cont.1 MR. BLASE Let him look at least. Let him come home tired from looking. He's never tired. MRS. BLASE He's young. MR. BLASE When I was young I was tired. I had my own place at seventeen. MRS. BLASE He says Italian families stay together, MR. BLASE BUT WE ARE NOT ITALIANI MRS. BLASE I know. It's just that I come from a big family myself. . .and it really was kind of nice... (smiles, half EMBARRASSED) He thinks we should have another kid. MR. BLASE What?t Dave enters carrying his trophy. DAVE Ah, buon giorno, Papa. MR. BLASE I'm your goddamned father, not papa. DAVE Buon giorno, Mama. MR. BLASE She's your goddamn mother. Whatcha do -- win again? Dave opens the fridge and takes out a hunk of cheese and a hunk of salami and starts eating. Mr. Blase looks at him like a wolf and then he looks at half a grapefruit in front of him. He finds it unbearable to watch him chew. Cont. 567 REVISED - "B.ANBINO" - 8/15/78 14 10 Cont.2 DAVE Yes, the victory ...she was easy. But the promoter...'fondatore' ...He says the Italian team...it will come maybe soon...and I will race with the best...ITALIANO. X Like the nightingale they sing, like the eagles they fly. Mr. Blase can't bear to watch him eat. He's starved. MR. BLASE Speaking of flies...there's a helluva lot of flies following you into the house. DAVE Fly in Italian is 'mosca.' MR. BLASE Well in English it's a pest. And speaking of pests... Mrs. Blase senses an argument. MRS .. BLASE It's a nice trophy isn't it, dear? MR. BLASE Yeah, so what. I've lived fifty years without ever getting a trophy. DAVE You never got trophy, Papa? MR. BLASE No, never, and what's more... Dave interrupts. DAVE Here, Papa. I give you. You are 'Numero Uno.' King Papa. Dave hands him the trophy. Mr. Blase is stunned. He'takes it. Before he can even think to give it back Dave kisses him on both cheeks. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/15/78 MR. BLASE Don't do thatl How many times... DAVE Now I'have to go and take a shower. (starts to leave AND PAUSES) Such a big house and so few people. I wish I had plenty of fratelly and sorelly to greet me when I come home and to wave when I go. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 15 10 Cont.3 Dave leaves. Mrs. Blase sighs. She too would like a big family. Mr. Blase is holding the trophy and looking at it. Neapolitan music is heard coming from Dave's room. Mr. Blase has had it. MR. BLASE There'-s that ity music again. X I'm going to have it out with him now. He goes to Dave's room carrying the trophy with him. Mrs. Blase follows him a few steps and stops. She waits... listening. She is apprehensive. She wants to follow and help Dave out but she stays behind wringing her hands. Mr. Blase reappears looking quite stunned. He's holding the trophy in one hand along his side. MRS. BLASE What's the matter? MR. BLASE HE'S SHAVINGL MRS. BLASE Well, so what? MR. BLASE His legs, Evelyn. He's shaving X his legs. I saw him. His legs. MT. DAVE' S BATHROOM 11 Huamoing along with the record player Dave is shaving away at his overly-lathered legs. OUT 12 CUT TO: INT. DAVE'S ROOM - CLOSEUP - THE STEREO - DAY 13 A record is turning. On top of the dust cover we see an album cover: ENRICO GIMDNDI SINGS NEAPOLITAN FAVORITES. X The CAMERA MOVES SLOWLY AROUND his room. There are bicycle trophies everywhere. Posters of Italian racers. Posters of Italian movies. Magazine covers and newspaper clippings from Italian racing magazines. Bicycle parts: Spare wheels...cranks...pedals. Several bicycle jerseys hanging on the doorknob.. ENRICO GINSONDI sings during.this tour of Dave's room. Dave comes out of the shower humming along. A cat comes to greet him, meowing. DAVE Ah, there you are Fellini... Hungry, eh? Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 16 13 Cont. He goes to a drawer and takes out a can of "Chef Boy-ar-dee" spaghetti and meatballs. Still humming, he opens the can and dumps the food into a deep ashtray with "CINZANO" written on the sides. DAVE Mangiare...mangiare... Be looks at the posters of the bicycle riders. He looks in the mirror. He takes a comb and combs his hair back in the "continental" style. Then he smiles. He picks up a book: "ITALIAN PEASE BOOK" and lies down on the bed to read it. EXT. MR. BLASE'S USED CAR LOT - DAY 14 A big sign: "CAMPUS CARS." The car lot is nowhere near the campus but the sign is considered good business. All around the car lot are other signs: BEST DEAL IN TOWN. CARS WITH A COLLEGE EDUCATION. The cars themselves have signs on them: "GRAD SCHOOL SPECIAL." "ENGLISH MAJOR" PhD" "HOMECOMING QUEEN" "CUM LAUDE" "MAGNA CUM LAUDE." CLOSEUP - MR. BLASE AND CUSTOMER The CUSTOMER is a young college kid. Mr. Blase is showing him the "HOMECOMING QUEEN." MR. BLASE It gets thirty miles to a gallon, X of course the mileage you get may vary. It's a beaut, right? Right. You sure know how to pick them. Frankly this is the best car on the lot. Quality product. DAVE (o.s. ) Ciao, Papal Mr. Blase cringes. Looks up. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE He's on his bike across the street. He's waving. DAVE'S P.O.V. Mr. Blase is looking at his Customer pretending he has no idea who Dave is. He shrugs and turns his back and quickly glances over his shoulder as Dave rides away. 567 17 EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 15 Students are everywhere and so are classroom buildings. Tall, new, limestone structures resembling office buildings. Students sit on the steps outside the buildings. They are lying around on the grass and walking to and from classes. All of them have books in hand. The wind is blowing. CLOSEUP - DAVE He's sitting next to his bike on the grass and looking around at all of them. In his hands he has his Italian Phrase Book: the book being his admission ticket into this world. It's obvious he's feeling a little out of place, but he enjoys looking at the campus world. A campus Police Car drives by and Dave quickly hides his face in the book. Waits for it to pass and when he looks up he is struck by something. MED. SHOT - KATHERINE - DAVE'S P.0.V. She's coming out of a classroom building with a bunch of books and papers in her hands. The wind is blowing her hair back. The CAMERA ZOOMS IN ON her face, isolating her from all the others, just as Dave is doing. CLOSEUP - DAVE His mouth is open. He blinks once. He swallows. DAVE Mama mia I CUT TO: MED. SHOT - KATHERINE As she's walking, she transfers her books from one hand to the other. A piece of paper escapes her and flies away in the wind. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE He sees the paper fly away and jumps up. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE She tries to go after the paper but the traffic keeps her from crossing the street. The paper's flying away. She gives up, and turns toward the parking lot just as we see Dave on his Cont. 567 18 15 Cont. bicycle chasing after the paper. He cuts through the cars, he cuts in front of them. The horns blow. The brakes screech. All Dave sees is the paper. He's on a mission. He cuts through the pedestrians crossing the street maneuvering brilliantly. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - A COLLEGE GUY He's just walking. He sees the piece of paper flying around and grabs it casually. Just as he's ready to read it a hand appears in the FRAME and snatches it away from him. It's Dave, riding away with the piece of paper in his hand. The College Guy just stands and looks after him. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE - ON A MOTOR SCOOTER 16 She's driving home. In her rearview mirror she spots something. A bicycle rider. He seems to be gaining on her. She speeds up almost instinctively. CUT TO: ANGLE ON DAVE - ON THE BIKE He's. got the paper in his mouth and he speeds up too. He shifts his gear. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE She's riding along. She glances in the rearview mirror and sees Dave quite close behind her with the paper in his mouth. She shifts her gears too. She smiles a little. CUT TO: ANGLE ON DAVE He's close enough to shout. He opens his mouth to shout. The paper flies out but he quickly catches it in mid-air. DAVE Signorina... He has momentarily lost ground on her but he sticks the paper in his mouth and pours it on. CUT TO: Cont. 5 67 REVISED - "BAMBINO"_ 8/12/78 19 16 Cont. ANGLE ON KATHERINE She's crossing the street just as the light changes. Dave crosses on the red light. Once again he's nearly hit by several cars. He follows Katherine up the hill leading to Fraternity Row. He overtakes her just as. she's about to turn into the drive leading to her sorority. But Dave is there on her right preventing her-from turning. She too almost hits him. She slams on her brakes. Dave slams on his. They come to a dead stop. DAVE Signorina...You... He's handing her the paper but then he pauses and pulls it back just as she's about to take it. He wipes the saliva off the paper on his jersey, and then gives it to her. DAVE It is yours...no? She takes the paper and smiles. Then she laughs. KATHERINE You mean you've been chasing me with this? Well, that's redly something. Thank you very much. Talk about chivalry. Dave is just looking at her. She's never seen anyone look at her quite like that. She's a bit confused. KATHERINE Well, thanks again. DAVE Is nothing...niente...signorina. KATHERINE What're you...an exchange student or something? - DAVE Si. I am Italian. My name is ENRICO GIMONDI. X KATHERINE And mine is Katherine Maxwell. DAVE Ah, Katherinal Cont. 367 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 20 X 16 Cont.l She likes the sound of this. But the way Dave looks at her is unsettling. KATHERINE Well, thanks again, again. 'BYE DAVE Ciao,. Katherina. Dave'rides away. She looks after him. OUT 17- 19 EXT. MOOCHER'S HOUSE - DAY 20 There's a big CAMPUS REALTY sign outside the house with a FOR-SALE tacked over it. NANCY is walking up to the screen door. She knocks. Moocher appears holding a huge barbell at shoulder height. They smile nervously at each other. MOOCHER NANCYL NANCY I was just on my way to work... Come in. He pushes the door open with one end of the barbell and lets her in checking the street to make sure nobody saw her. She goes in. Moocher shuts the other door too. INT. MOOCHER'S HOUSE - DAY 20-A The two room house is empty except for a sleeping bag and a wooden foot locker -- Moocher resumes working with the barbells. NANCY You know what? MOOCHER No, what? NANCY I'm leaving home that's what. MOOCHER Whatl Where're you going? Cont. 567 AiEVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 w 21 X 20-A Cont. NANCY About five blocks south. I found a nice little house to rent. It's so cute I could scream. My folks said I could have some'of their furniture from the basement. Maybe you could give me a hand...moving. MOOCHER Sure...if...If I'm not busy. You know. How's the Job? NANCY You know what! Frank said if I keep up the good work it'll just be a matter of time before I become a head cashier. I should go now. MOOCHER Maybe...eh...Maybe I'll walk you to work. I have to go that way anyway. She smiles, happy at the prospect of a nice walk together. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 21 Dave and Cyril are going through the outskirts of the campus. Dave is riding his bike slowly. Cyril is jogging along. They go past

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Breaking Away Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "BAMBINO" [ PRODUCED AS "BREAKING AWAY" ] Written by Steve Tesich June 9, 1978 FADE IN EXT. QUARRY OUTSKIRTS - DAY 1 A narrow dirt road totally surrounded by thick vegetation. Here and there we see a huge block of stone blocking the road. The sun is shining but it has a hard time making it through the foliage. In the distance we see four guys walking TOWARD the CAMERA. There is a swagger to their walk. MII is singing. The others are humming along. The melody of the song of "0 Bury Me Not On the Lone Prairie" but it's a loose version. MIME AND WHEN I DIE...WON'T YOU BURY ME ON THE"PARKING LOT OF THE A AND P BLOW OUT THE CANDLES AND BLOW OUT TIE LAMPS AND LIGHT MY PYRE WITH MY TRADING STAMPS I HAD TWO BOOKS BUT I NEEDED THREE R TO DELIVER ME FROM THE A AND P. I HAD THREE BOOKS BUT I NEEDED FOUR TO GO TO HEAVEN AND REDEEM MY SOUL. By this time the four are in front of the CAMERA. Mike is handsome and well built. CYRIL is tall and skinny. MOOCHER is very short. DAVE, hanging back a little, is carrying a large trophy. DAVE Bravo, Mike! Bravo! Bellisimot CYRIL Did you really make all that up? They pass. ANOTHER ANGLE The presence of the quarry is felt much stronger now. More and more blocks of cut stone appear. The guys are dwarfed by them. They have to climb over some. MIKE I sent away for this stuff from Wyoming. It'll tell you everything. Since you don't believe me maybe you'll believe it when you see it. CYRIL And we'd work on the same ranch and sleep in the bunkhouse together, eh? Cont. 567 REVISED '"BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 2 X 1 Cont. MOOCHER That's the whole point. CYRIL I always miss the whole point. MOOCHER It'd be nice to have a paying Job again, that's for sure. DAVE Niente laborare. Niente mangare. MIKE What's that mean? DAVE You don't work. You don't eat. CYRIL That's a terrible thing to say. MED. SHOT The quarries are felt even more now. Walls of stone rise up around the guys. CYRIL Are you really going to shave your legs? DAVE Certo. All the Italians do it. MIKE That's some country. The women don't shave theirs. CYRIL STOP! (pauses as if THUNDERSTRUCK; hand on heart) It was somewhere along here that I lost all interest in life. Ah, right over there. I.saw Dolores Reineke and fat Marvin. Why? Why Dolores? MOOCHER They're married now. Coat. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 3 X 1 Cont.1 MIRE You see what I saved you from, Cyril. Had I not told you about the two of them you never would have followed them out here. CYRIL- Thank you, Mike. You made me lose all interest in life and I'm grateful. MIKE My brother says he saw you and Nancy. Moocher. MOOCHER When? MIKE Last Friday? MOOCHER Wasn't me. I'm not seeing her anymore. ANOTHER ANGLE They are now standing above a huge pool of water with sheer cliffs on three sides. Abandoned derricks loom in the distance. Dave is now humming softly a Neapolitan song. They begin the descent. CYRIL I kind of miss school. You know. This will be the first time nobody's going to ask us to write a theme about how we spent our summer. MIKE Remember the Tomb of the Unknown Substitute Teacher. MOOCHER She believed us too. MIKE (TEACHER'S VOICE) Sex spelled backwards x-es. CYRIL When you're sixteen they call it sweet sixteen. When you're eighteen you get to drink, see dirty movies and vote. But what the hell do you do when you're nineteen. 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 3-A X 1 Cont.2 MIKE You leave home. CYRIL My dad says Jesus never went further than fifty miles from his home. Mike is skipping down the rocks toward the water, taking clothes off as he does. The rest follow. MIKE And look what happened to him. Mike jumps into the water. Moocher and Cyril follow. Dave looks on. FADE THROUGH TO: DAVE'S P.O.V. 1-A The guys are swimming. Dave is holding his trophy casually, enjoying the beautiful day. He pulls out a little Italian Phrase Book. Finds what he wants. DAVE Oggi fa bello,-non e vero? MIKE Sure thing, partner. MOOCHER C'mon in. DAVE I read where this Italian coach said you should never swim after a race. CYRIL Who's swimming? I'm taking a leak. Moocher and Mike splash water at him and swim away. FADE THROUGH TO: 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 4 ROCKS BY THE WATER 1-B All four guys are sunbathing looking at the water. Deep X down, at the bottom of the quarry hole we see an old icebox. Mike is staring at it. The mood is one of total relaxation. MIRE Aren't you glad we got fired from The A and P. Right now we'd be X working. MOOCHER We didn't get fired. You got- fired. We quit. MIKE One for all and all for one. MOOCHER There aren't many places, you know, that'll hire all four of USE CYRIL You know what I'd like to be? MIKE Smart. CYRIL A cartoon of some kind. Man, X that'd be great. Like when they get hit on their head with a frying pan and their head looks like a frying pan-with a handle and everything. And then they go b-r-r-r. (shakes his head) And their head comes back to normal. That'd be great.. MIKE How come you're so stupid, Cyril. CYRIL I don't know. I think I have a dumb heredity. What's your excuse, Mike? Mike hits him hard on the arm. Cyril winces. Mike stands up. He makes sure they're all watching and dives in. The guys talk as they follow his progress. DAVE You hear from your folks, Moocher? 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 5 1-B Coat. MOOCHER .. Yeah, my Dad called. He says there's a lot more jobs in'Chicago. He hasn't got anything yet. Mike has reached the icebox. He opens the door. Goes in. Shuts the door. MOOCHER He wanted to know if the house was sold. They could use the money. DAVE You can come and live with me when it's sold. In Italy everybody lives together. All three of them are getting concerned about Mike. MOOCHER Ever since you won that Italian X bike you've been acting weird. You really think you are Italian. CYRIL I .wouldn't mind thinking I was s omebody myself. All three of them stand up. MOOCHER Maybe the door is stuck. God dammit! Moocher dives in. Dave and Cyril follow. Moocher swims down to the icebox, forces the door open. They surface. As soon as they hit the surface we hear: MIKE o.s.} Yoo--hoo . THE GUYS' P.O.V. They see Mike standing on top of the rock above them. MIKE It's got no back on it! He laughs triumphantly. He's ready to dive in again when he pauses and looks. High above where he stands on the other side of the quarry hole, we see several figures. The guys are swimming toward the rocks and looking at the figures too. 5667 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 6 1-B Cont.l CLOSEUP - MIKE His face has hardened as he looks at the figures. MIKE What the hell are they doing here? X ANOTHER ANGLE Dave, Moocher and Cyril are standing on the rocks below Mike. Mike is still on top of the rock. High above him are the College Kids. Three guys and three girls. One of the guys is standing on the ledge above the water. Our guys are looking at the College Kid on the ledge. He seems intent on diving into the water. It's a distance of at least eighty feet. He pushes off and dives in executing a beautiful somersault into a swan dive. CLOSEUP - OUR GUYS They are stunned. CLOSEUP - MIKE He's obviously envious.. He looks from the diver toward the guys and seems to feel his position undermined. CYRIL I've never seen anyone dive off from there. MIS BASTARDS[ (CLIMBING DOWN THE ROCK) They've got indoor pools and outdoor pools on the campus but they got to come here. (Joins the guys) It's my goddamn quarry. Cyril assumes a very dramatic posture. Sings to the theme from Exodus. CYRIL This hole! This quarry hole is mine! MIKE Hey, screw you, Cyril. Let's get out of here. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6 6. 8 7 EXT. QUARRY - DAY 1-C They are retracing their steps out of the quarry. Mike is leading. -Moocher is behind him. Dave is at the end. He's carrying a huge trophy casually. X MIKE o.s.) If they re going to come here then we'll go on .the campus. MED. SHOT - MIKE'S CAR 1-D A racing bicycle is on top of the car. The guys are in the car and the car is moving fast through the dirt road leading out of the quarries. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 2 Mike is speeding through the town. A huge billboard with the Marlboro Man whizzes past us.. INT. MIKE'S CAR - Mike looks angry. He's got an unlit cigarette in his mouth. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 3 A car lot is on the right. "CAMPUS CARS.", MOOCHER Isn't your dad working today? DAVE (o.s.) No, the doctor told him to take it easy. He's taking Sunday's off. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - CITY HALL - DAY 4 City Hall is on the left. CYRIL (O S ) That's where you go to get a marriage license, Mooch. MOOCHER (o.s.) Yeah, so what? Cyril laughs and then howls as he's hit. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" ; 6/16/78 8 OUT 5 X EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 6 Huge modern structures are looming in the distance in stark contrast to the town we just passed through. Mike's car-is speeding toward them. X EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 7 Mike's car turns into a street called Fraternity Row.- Most of the fraternities and sororities-are located along this stretch. Neat lawns line the area. The houses are enormous: an architectural mixture of old manor house and modern motel. The college kids are outside on the lawns. Some are reading. Girls in bikinis sunbathing. Guys washing their cars. Some other guys passing the football around. Transistor radios playing. Mike drives slowly. INT. MIKE'S CAR All the guys are looking out of the windows as if they were in a museum. Mike looks at the expensive cars along the way. Cyril looks at the Girls in bikinis. Moocher looks at the huge well-built guys. Dave just looks. CYRIL Going to college must do'something 'to girls' tits. Just look at them. Campussies and sororititties. (sticks head out; shouts to a couple of Girls) - Hi, there. What's your major? The Girls look up and kind of sneer. MOOCHER They sure look like they've got it made. MIKE That's because they're rich. DAVE Italians are all poor but they're happy. MIKE Maybe in Italy. Cont. 567 9 7 Cont. CYRIL I wonder what it's like to kiss a coed. I wonder about it a lot. Ahead of Mike's car we see two Guys and two Girls playing Frisbee. They are standing on the lawns and throwing the Frisbee to each other across the street. Mike's car is moving slowly forward when an ill-thrown Frisbee lands on the street. Mike sees it and speeds up. A Girl is running to get it but Mike gets there first and runs over it. Dave gets a quick look at the Girl as she stops"suddenly to keep from getting hit. The two college Guys run out and give' Mike the finger. He sees them in the rearview mirror. MIKE Hey, those bastards are giving us the finger. He slams on the brakes. MOOCHER Hey, c'mon, Mike. We're on their turf. Dave is looking back at the Girl. The two Guys are challenging Mike, motioning to him to come back. The two Girls are trying to talk them out of it. Mike-is gunning the car. MIKE They think they own the place. MOOCHER They do. CYRIL Besides, you've humiliated them enough. In ancient Japan when you ran over a samurai's Frisbee he had to commit suicide. Just as he laughs Mike shifts the car in reverse. The two Guys and Girls are standing in the middle of the road. The Guys are coming forward thinking Mike's going to stop, but Mike has no intention of stopping. The Girls and the Guys split as Mike's car roars between them. Once again Dave catches a fleeting glimpse of the Girl. Having scattered them, Mike makes a U-turn and drives away in the direction he came from. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" 8/12/78 10 7 Cont.1 CLOSEUP - THE COLLEGE KIDS The girl Dave saw, KATHERINE, is looking after the car holding a cracked Frisbee in her hand. The tall well-built guy next to her, ROD, her boyfriend, looks real upset. He is wearing a Little 500 T-shirt. ROD Dumbass cutters. Goddamn redneck retards. OUT 8 CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE 9 riding. A Neapolitan melody plays as Dave rides holding his trophy:. a romantic song of the south and not southern Indiana. The small houses could be Italian houses to Dave. The people sitting on porches and steps could be Italians. Dave waves like a returning hero. DAVE Buon giornol Buon giornol (SPOTS SOME SMALL CHILDREN) Hey, bambino. The people and the kids look at him like he's an oddball, but Dave does not notice. A woman is shaking a rug ahead of him, and she looks so Italian that he can't help but smile. A big blonde GIRL is coming out of the house dressed in a waitress outfit. She sees Dave. G= Dave...is Moocher home? But Dave just rides past her in a daydream. CLOSEUP - A COUPLE ON A PORCH They're older PEOPLE. The Man is drinking a beer. WOMAN Tsk. Tsk. He was as normal as pumpkin pie and'now look x at him. The Man lets out a long beer belch. WOMAN His poor parents. 5 67 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 11 _ X l f T. BLASE HOUSE - DAY 10 MR. BLASE is sitting at a kitchen table. MRS. BLASE is boiling water. Mr. Blase does not look happy. He's got a flyswatter in his hand. He sees a fly. Whack. He hits it. He misses. MR. BLASE It's that cologne he wears. MRS. BLASE Neapolitan Sunset, it's called. MR. BLASE Well, it smells like fruit punch to me and it attracts flies. Mrs. Blase comes over and pours some hot water into his cup. She takes a package of Sanka from her apron pocket and puts it in the saucer. MRS. BLASE There. Mrs. Blase looks at the table. MR. BLASE This is itl MRS. BLASE You have to watch your diet. MR. BLASE Diet, if anybody found out I was on the diet they'd laugh me out of town. A diet. MRS. BLASE You know what the doctor said. At your age... MR. BLASE At my agel What the hell do you mean at my age. MRS. BLASE He says you have a bad heart. MR. BLASE Yeah, but it's got nothing to do with my age. It's our son that's ruining my heart, Evelyn. What's he going to do? He wanted a year with those bums so I gave him a year. CONT 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 12 X 10 Cont. MRS. BLASE It hasn't been a year yet. MR. BLASE But, Evelyn. Look whatts happened to him. He's turned into a ity; It was funny at first but it's not funny anymore. Ciao, Papa. Ciao, Mama. Arrivaderchit That's ity talk. MRS. BLASE It's just hero worship. He says the Italians are the best bike racers in'the world and he... MR. BLASE This is America, Evelyn. Only paper boys ride bikes and they earn money doing it. MRS. BLASE Re did win his bicycle and he was quite sickly 'til he started racing around and in three years ._ ne's... MR. BLASE (INTERRUPTS) So now his body's fine but his mind is gone. He used to be a smart kid. I thought he was going to goy to college. MRS. BLASE I thought you didn't want him to go to college. MR. BLASE Why should he go to college? I didn't go to college. When I was nineteen I was working in the quarries ten hours a day. MRS. BLASE But most of the quarries have shut down. MR. BLASE Let him find another job. MRS. BLASE But there aren't any jobs. 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/15/78 13 10 Cont.1 MR. BLASE Let him look at least. Let him come home tired from looking. He's never tired. MRS. BLASE He's young. MR. BLASE When I was young I was tired. I had my own place at seventeen. MRS. BLASE He says Italian families stay together, MR. BLASE BUT WE ARE NOT ITALIANI MRS. BLASE I know. It's just that I come from a big family myself. . .and it really was kind of nice... (smiles, half EMBARRASSED) He thinks we should have another kid. MR. BLASE What?t Dave enters carrying his trophy. DAVE Ah, buon giorno, Papa. MR. BLASE I'm your goddamned father, not papa. DAVE Buon giorno, Mama. MR. BLASE She's your goddamn mother. Whatcha do -- win again? Dave opens the fridge and takes out a hunk of cheese and a hunk of salami and starts eating. Mr. Blase looks at him like a wolf and then he looks at half a grapefruit in front of him. He finds it unbearable to watch him chew. Cont. 567 REVISED - "B.ANBINO" - 8/15/78 14 10 Cont.2 DAVE Yes, the victory ...she was easy. But the promoter...'fondatore' ...He says the Italian team...it will come maybe soon...and I will race with the best...ITALIANO. X Like the nightingale they sing, like the eagles they fly. Mr. Blase can't bear to watch him eat. He's starved. MR. BLASE Speaking of flies...there's a helluva lot of flies following you into the house. DAVE Fly in Italian is 'mosca.' MR. BLASE Well in English it's a pest. And speaking of pests... Mrs. Blase senses an argument. MRS .. BLASE It's a nice trophy isn't it, dear? MR. BLASE Yeah, so what. I've lived fifty years without ever getting a trophy. DAVE You never got trophy, Papa? MR. BLASE No, never, and what's more... Dave interrupts. DAVE Here, Papa. I give you. You are 'Numero Uno.' King Papa. Dave hands him the trophy. Mr. Blase is stunned. He'takes it. Before he can even think to give it back Dave kisses him on both cheeks. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/15/78 MR. BLASE Don't do thatl How many times... DAVE Now I'have to go and take a shower. (starts to leave AND PAUSES) Such a big house and so few people. I wish I had plenty of fratelly and sorelly to greet me when I come home and to wave when I go. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 15 10 Cont.3 Dave leaves. Mrs. Blase sighs. She too would like a big family. Mr. Blase is holding the trophy and looking at it. Neapolitan music is heard coming from Dave's room. Mr. Blase has had it. MR. BLASE There'-s that ity music again. X I'm going to have it out with him now. He goes to Dave's room carrying the trophy with him. Mrs. Blase follows him a few steps and stops. She waits... listening. She is apprehensive. She wants to follow and help Dave out but she stays behind wringing her hands. Mr. Blase reappears looking quite stunned. He's holding the trophy in one hand along his side. MRS. BLASE What's the matter? MR. BLASE HE'S SHAVINGL MRS. BLASE Well, so what? MR. BLASE His legs, Evelyn. He's shaving X his legs. I saw him. His legs. MT. DAVE' S BATHROOM 11 Huamoing along with the record player Dave is shaving away at his overly-lathered legs. OUT 12 CUT TO: INT. DAVE'S ROOM - CLOSEUP - THE STEREO - DAY 13 A record is turning. On top of the dust cover we see an album cover: ENRICO GIMDNDI SINGS NEAPOLITAN FAVORITES. X The CAMERA MOVES SLOWLY AROUND his room. There are bicycle trophies everywhere. Posters of Italian racers. Posters of Italian movies. Magazine covers and newspaper clippings from Italian racing magazines. Bicycle parts: Spare wheels...cranks...pedals. Several bicycle jerseys hanging on the doorknob.. ENRICO GINSONDI sings during.this tour of Dave's room. Dave comes out of the shower humming along. A cat comes to greet him, meowing. DAVE Ah, there you are Fellini... Hungry, eh? Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 16 13 Cont. He goes to a drawer and takes out a can of "Chef Boy-ar-dee" spaghetti and meatballs. Still humming, he opens the can and dumps the food into a deep ashtray with "CINZANO" written on the sides. DAVE Mangiare...mangiare... Be looks at the posters of the bicycle riders. He looks in the mirror. He takes a comb and combs his hair back in the "continental" style. Then he smiles. He picks up a book: "ITALIAN PEASE BOOK" and lies down on the bed to read it. EXT. MR. BLASE'S USED CAR LOT - DAY 14 A big sign: "CAMPUS CARS." The car lot is nowhere near the campus but the sign is considered good business. All around the car lot are other signs: BEST DEAL IN TOWN. CARS WITH A COLLEGE EDUCATION. The cars themselves have signs on them: "GRAD SCHOOL SPECIAL." "ENGLISH MAJOR" PhD" "HOMECOMING QUEEN" "CUM LAUDE" "MAGNA CUM LAUDE." CLOSEUP - MR. BLASE AND CUSTOMER The CUSTOMER is a young college kid. Mr. Blase is showing him the "HOMECOMING QUEEN." MR. BLASE It gets thirty miles to a gallon, X of course the mileage you get may vary. It's a beaut, right? Right. You sure know how to pick them. Frankly this is the best car on the lot. Quality product. DAVE (o.s. ) Ciao, Papal Mr. Blase cringes. Looks up. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE He's on his bike across the street. He's waving. DAVE'S P.O.V. Mr. Blase is looking at his Customer pretending he has no idea who Dave is. He shrugs and turns his back and quickly glances over his shoulder as Dave rides away. 567 17 EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 15 Students are everywhere and so are classroom buildings. Tall, new, limestone structures resembling office buildings. Students sit on the steps outside the buildings. They are lying around on the grass and walking to and from classes. All of them have books in hand. The wind is blowing. CLOSEUP - DAVE He's sitting next to his bike on the grass and looking around at all of them. In his hands he has his Italian Phrase Book: the book being his admission ticket into this world. It's obvious he's feeling a little out of place, but he enjoys looking at the campus world. A campus Police Car drives by and Dave quickly hides his face in the book. Waits for it to pass and when he looks up he is struck by something. MED. SHOT - KATHERINE - DAVE'S P.0.V. She's coming out of a classroom building with a bunch of books and papers in her hands. The wind is blowing her hair back. The CAMERA ZOOMS IN ON her face, isolating her from all the others, just as Dave is doing. CLOSEUP - DAVE His mouth is open. He blinks once. He swallows. DAVE Mama mia I CUT TO: MED. SHOT - KATHERINE As she's walking, she transfers her books from one hand to the other. A piece of paper escapes her and flies away in the wind. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE He sees the paper fly away and jumps up. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE She tries to go after the paper but the traffic keeps her from crossing the street. The paper's flying away. She gives up, and turns toward the parking lot just as we see Dave on his Cont. 567 18 15 Cont. bicycle chasing after the paper. He cuts through the cars, he cuts in front of them. The horns blow. The brakes screech. All Dave sees is the paper. He's on a mission. He cuts through the pedestrians crossing the street maneuvering brilliantly. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - A COLLEGE GUY He's just walking. He sees the piece of paper flying around and grabs it casually. Just as he's ready to read it a hand appears in the FRAME and snatches it away from him. It's Dave, riding away with the piece of paper in his hand. The College Guy just stands and looks after him. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE - ON A MOTOR SCOOTER 16 She's driving home. In her rearview mirror she spots something. A bicycle rider. He seems to be gaining on her. She speeds up almost instinctively. CUT TO: ANGLE ON DAVE - ON THE BIKE He's. got the paper in his mouth and he speeds up too. He shifts his gear. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE She's riding along. She glances in the rearview mirror and sees Dave quite close behind her with the paper in his mouth. She shifts her gears too. She smiles a little. CUT TO: ANGLE ON DAVE He's close enough to shout. He opens his mouth to shout. The paper flies out but he quickly catches it in mid-air. DAVE Signorina... He has momentarily lost ground on her but he sticks the paper in his mouth and pours it on. CUT TO: Cont. 5 67 REVISED - "BAMBINO"_ 8/12/78 19 16 Cont. ANGLE ON KATHERINE She's crossing the street just as the light changes. Dave crosses on the red light. Once again he's nearly hit by several cars. He follows Katherine up the hill leading to Fraternity Row. He overtakes her just as. she's about to turn into the drive leading to her sorority. But Dave is there on her right preventing her-from turning. She too almost hits him. She slams on her brakes. Dave slams on his. They come to a dead stop. DAVE Signorina...You... He's handing her the paper but then he pauses and pulls it back just as she's about to take it. He wipes the saliva off the paper on his jersey, and then gives it to her. DAVE It is yours...no? She takes the paper and smiles. Then she laughs. KATHERINE You mean you've been chasing me with this? Well, that's redly something. Thank you very much. Talk about chivalry. Dave is just looking at her. She's never seen anyone look at her quite like that. She's a bit confused. KATHERINE Well, thanks again. DAVE Is nothing...niente...signorina. KATHERINE What're you...an exchange student or something? - DAVE Si. I am Italian. My name is ENRICO GIMONDI. X KATHERINE And mine is Katherine Maxwell. DAVE Ah, Katherinal Cont. 367 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 20 X 16 Cont.l She likes the sound of this. But the way Dave looks at her is unsettling. KATHERINE Well, thanks again, again. 'BYE DAVE Ciao,. Katherina. Dave'rides away. She looks after him. OUT 17- 19 EXT. MOOCHER'S HOUSE - DAY 20 There's a big CAMPUS REALTY sign outside the house with a FOR-SALE tacked over it. NANCY is walking up to the screen door. She knocks. Moocher appears holding a huge barbell at shoulder height. They smile nervously at each other. MOOCHER NANCYL NANCY I was just on my way to work... Come in. He pushes the door open with one end of the barbell and lets her in checking the street to make sure nobody saw her. She goes in. Moocher shuts the other door too. INT. MOOCHER'S HOUSE - DAY 20-A The two room house is empty except for a sleeping bag and a wooden foot locker -- Moocher resumes working with the barbells. NANCY You know what? MOOCHER No, what? NANCY I'm leaving home that's what. MOOCHER Whatl Where're you going? Cont. 567 AiEVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 w 21 X 20-A Cont. NANCY About five blocks south. I found a nice little house to rent. It's so cute I could scream. My folks said I could have some'of their furniture from the basement. Maybe you could give me a hand...moving. MOOCHER Sure...if...If I'm not busy. You know. How's the Job? NANCY You know what! Frank said if I keep up the good work it'll just be a matter of time before I become a head cashier. I should go now. MOOCHER Maybe...eh...Maybe I'll walk you to work. I have to go that way anyway. She smiles, happy at the prospect of a nice walk together. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 21 Dave and Cyril are going through the outskirts of the campus. Dave is riding his bike slowly. Cyril is jogging along. They go past

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Breaking Away Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "BAMBINO" [ PRODUCED AS "BREAKING AWAY" ] Written by Steve Tesich June 9, 1978 FADE IN EXT. QUARRY OUTSKIRTS - DAY 1 A narrow dirt road totally surrounded by thick vegetation. Here and there we see a huge block of stone blocking the road. The sun is shining but it has a hard time making it through the foliage. In the distance we see four guys walking TOWARD the CAMERA. There is a swagger to their walk. MII is singing. The others are humming along. The melody of the song of "0 Bury Me Not On the Lone Prairie" but it's a loose version. MIME AND WHEN I DIE...WON'T YOU BURY ME ON THE"PARKING LOT OF THE A AND P BLOW OUT THE CANDLES AND BLOW OUT TIE LAMPS AND LIGHT MY PYRE WITH MY TRADING STAMPS I HAD TWO BOOKS BUT I NEEDED THREE R TO DELIVER ME FROM THE A AND P. I HAD THREE BOOKS BUT I NEEDED FOUR TO GO TO HEAVEN AND REDEEM MY SOUL. By this time the four are in front of the CAMERA. Mike is handsome and well built. CYRIL is tall and skinny. MOOCHER is very short. DAVE, hanging back a little, is carrying a large trophy. DAVE Bravo, Mike! Bravo! Bellisimot CYRIL Did you really make all that up? They pass. ANOTHER ANGLE The presence of the quarry is felt much stronger now. More and more blocks of cut stone appear. The guys are dwarfed by them. They have to climb over some. MIKE I sent away for this stuff from Wyoming. It'll tell you everything. Since you don't believe me maybe you'll believe it when you see it. CYRIL And we'd work on the same ranch and sleep in the bunkhouse together, eh? Cont. 567 REVISED '"BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 2 X 1 Cont. MOOCHER That's the whole point. CYRIL I always miss the whole point. MOOCHER It'd be nice to have a paying Job again, that's for sure. DAVE Niente laborare. Niente mangare. MIKE What's that mean? DAVE You don't work. You don't eat. CYRIL That's a terrible thing to say. MED. SHOT The quarries are felt even more now. Walls of stone rise up around the guys. CYRIL Are you really going to shave your legs? DAVE Certo. All the Italians do it. MIKE That's some country. The women don't shave theirs. CYRIL STOP! (pauses as if THUNDERSTRUCK; hand on heart) It was somewhere along here that I lost all interest in life. Ah, right over there. I.saw Dolores Reineke and fat Marvin. Why? Why Dolores? MOOCHER They're married now. Coat. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 3 X 1 Cont.1 MIRE You see what I saved you from, Cyril. Had I not told you about the two of them you never would have followed them out here. CYRIL- Thank you, Mike. You made me lose all interest in life and I'm grateful. MIKE My brother says he saw you and Nancy. Moocher. MOOCHER When? MIKE Last Friday? MOOCHER Wasn't me. I'm not seeing her anymore. ANOTHER ANGLE They are now standing above a huge pool of water with sheer cliffs on three sides. Abandoned derricks loom in the distance. Dave is now humming softly a Neapolitan song. They begin the descent. CYRIL I kind of miss school. You know. This will be the first time nobody's going to ask us to write a theme about how we spent our summer. MIKE Remember the Tomb of the Unknown Substitute Teacher. MOOCHER She believed us too. MIKE (TEACHER'S VOICE) Sex spelled backwards x-es. CYRIL When you're sixteen they call it sweet sixteen. When you're eighteen you get to drink, see dirty movies and vote. But what the hell do you do when you're nineteen. 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 3-A X 1 Cont.2 MIKE You leave home. CYRIL My dad says Jesus never went further than fifty miles from his home. Mike is skipping down the rocks toward the water, taking clothes off as he does. The rest follow. MIKE And look what happened to him. Mike jumps into the water. Moocher and Cyril follow. Dave looks on. FADE THROUGH TO: DAVE'S P.O.V. 1-A The guys are swimming. Dave is holding his trophy casually, enjoying the beautiful day. He pulls out a little Italian Phrase Book. Finds what he wants. DAVE Oggi fa bello,-non e vero? MIKE Sure thing, partner. MOOCHER C'mon in. DAVE I read where this Italian coach said you should never swim after a race. CYRIL Who's swimming? I'm taking a leak. Moocher and Mike splash water at him and swim away. FADE THROUGH TO: 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 4 ROCKS BY THE WATER 1-B All four guys are sunbathing looking at the water. Deep X down, at the bottom of the quarry hole we see an old icebox. Mike is staring at it. The mood is one of total relaxation. MIRE Aren't you glad we got fired from The A and P. Right now we'd be X working. MOOCHER We didn't get fired. You got- fired. We quit. MIKE One for all and all for one. MOOCHER There aren't many places, you know, that'll hire all four of USE CYRIL You know what I'd like to be? MIKE Smart. CYRIL A cartoon of some kind. Man, X that'd be great. Like when they get hit on their head with a frying pan and their head looks like a frying pan-with a handle and everything. And then they go b-r-r-r. (shakes his head) And their head comes back to normal. That'd be great.. MIKE How come you're so stupid, Cyril. CYRIL I don't know. I think I have a dumb heredity. What's your excuse, Mike? Mike hits him hard on the arm. Cyril winces. Mike stands up. He makes sure they're all watching and dives in. The guys talk as they follow his progress. DAVE You hear from your folks, Moocher? 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 5 1-B Coat. MOOCHER .. Yeah, my Dad called. He says there's a lot more jobs in'Chicago. He hasn't got anything yet. Mike has reached the icebox. He opens the door. Goes in. Shuts the door. MOOCHER He wanted to know if the house was sold. They could use the money. DAVE You can come and live with me when it's sold. In Italy everybody lives together. All three of them are getting concerned about Mike. MOOCHER Ever since you won that Italian X bike you've been acting weird. You really think you are Italian. CYRIL I .wouldn't mind thinking I was s omebody myself. All three of them stand up. MOOCHER Maybe the door is stuck. God dammit! Moocher dives in. Dave and Cyril follow. Moocher swims down to the icebox, forces the door open. They surface. As soon as they hit the surface we hear: MIKE o.s.} Yoo--hoo . THE GUYS' P.O.V. They see Mike standing on top of the rock above them. MIKE It's got no back on it! He laughs triumphantly. He's ready to dive in again when he pauses and looks. High above where he stands on the other side of the quarry hole, we see several figures. The guys are swimming toward the rocks and looking at the figures too. 5667 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 6 1-B Cont.l CLOSEUP - MIKE His face has hardened as he looks at the figures. MIKE What the hell are they doing here? X ANOTHER ANGLE Dave, Moocher and Cyril are standing on the rocks below Mike. Mike is still on top of the rock. High above him are the College Kids. Three guys and three girls. One of the guys is standing on the ledge above the water. Our guys are looking at the College Kid on the ledge. He seems intent on diving into the water. It's a distance of at least eighty feet. He pushes off and dives in executing a beautiful somersault into a swan dive. CLOSEUP - OUR GUYS They are stunned. CLOSEUP - MIKE He's obviously envious.. He looks from the diver toward the guys and seems to feel his position undermined. CYRIL I've never seen anyone dive off from there. MIS BASTARDS[ (CLIMBING DOWN THE ROCK) They've got indoor pools and outdoor pools on the campus but they got to come here. (Joins the guys) It's my goddamn quarry. Cyril assumes a very dramatic posture. Sings to the theme from Exodus. CYRIL This hole! This quarry hole is mine! MIKE Hey, screw you, Cyril. Let's get out of here. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6 6. 8 7 EXT. QUARRY - DAY 1-C They are retracing their steps out of the quarry. Mike is leading. -Moocher is behind him. Dave is at the end. He's carrying a huge trophy casually. X MIKE o.s.) If they re going to come here then we'll go on .the campus. MED. SHOT - MIKE'S CAR 1-D A racing bicycle is on top of the car. The guys are in the car and the car is moving fast through the dirt road leading out of the quarries. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 2 Mike is speeding through the town. A huge billboard with the Marlboro Man whizzes past us.. INT. MIKE'S CAR - Mike looks angry. He's got an unlit cigarette in his mouth. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 3 A car lot is on the right. "CAMPUS CARS.", MOOCHER Isn't your dad working today? DAVE (o.s.) No, the doctor told him to take it easy. He's taking Sunday's off. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - CITY HALL - DAY 4 City Hall is on the left. CYRIL (O S ) That's where you go to get a marriage license, Mooch. MOOCHER (o.s.) Yeah, so what? Cyril laughs and then howls as he's hit. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" ; 6/16/78 8 OUT 5 X EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 6 Huge modern structures are looming in the distance in stark contrast to the town we just passed through. Mike's car-is speeding toward them. X EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 7 Mike's car turns into a street called Fraternity Row.- Most of the fraternities and sororities-are located along this stretch. Neat lawns line the area. The houses are enormous: an architectural mixture of old manor house and modern motel. The college kids are outside on the lawns. Some are reading. Girls in bikinis sunbathing. Guys washing their cars. Some other guys passing the football around. Transistor radios playing. Mike drives slowly. INT. MIKE'S CAR All the guys are looking out of the windows as if they were in a museum. Mike looks at the expensive cars along the way. Cyril looks at the Girls in bikinis. Moocher looks at the huge well-built guys. Dave just looks. CYRIL Going to college must do'something 'to girls' tits. Just look at them. Campussies and sororititties. (sticks head out; shouts to a couple of Girls) - Hi, there. What's your major? The Girls look up and kind of sneer. MOOCHER They sure look like they've got it made. MIKE That's because they're rich. DAVE Italians are all poor but they're happy. MIKE Maybe in Italy. Cont. 567 9 7 Cont. CYRIL I wonder what it's like to kiss a coed. I wonder about it a lot. Ahead of Mike's car we see two Guys and two Girls playing Frisbee. They are standing on the lawns and throwing the Frisbee to each other across the street. Mike's car is moving slowly forward when an ill-thrown Frisbee lands on the street. Mike sees it and speeds up. A Girl is running to get it but Mike gets there first and runs over it. Dave gets a quick look at the Girl as she stops"suddenly to keep from getting hit. The two college Guys run out and give' Mike the finger. He sees them in the rearview mirror. MIKE Hey, those bastards are giving us the finger. He slams on the brakes. MOOCHER Hey, c'mon, Mike. We're on their turf. Dave is looking back at the Girl. The two Guys are challenging Mike, motioning to him to come back. The two Girls are trying to talk them out of it. Mike-is gunning the car. MIKE They think they own the place. MOOCHER They do. CYRIL Besides, you've humiliated them enough. In ancient Japan when you ran over a samurai's Frisbee he had to commit suicide. Just as he laughs Mike shifts the car in reverse. The two Guys and Girls are standing in the middle of the road. The Guys are coming forward thinking Mike's going to stop, but Mike has no intention of stopping. The Girls and the Guys split as Mike's car roars between them. Once again Dave catches a fleeting glimpse of the Girl. Having scattered them, Mike makes a U-turn and drives away in the direction he came from. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" 8/12/78 10 7 Cont.1 CLOSEUP - THE COLLEGE KIDS The girl Dave saw, KATHERINE, is looking after the car holding a cracked Frisbee in her hand. The tall well-built guy next to her, ROD, her boyfriend, looks real upset. He is wearing a Little 500 T-shirt. ROD Dumbass cutters. Goddamn redneck retards. OUT 8 CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE 9 riding. A Neapolitan melody plays as Dave rides holding his trophy:. a romantic song of the south and not southern Indiana. The small houses could be Italian houses to Dave. The people sitting on porches and steps could be Italians. Dave waves like a returning hero. DAVE Buon giornol Buon giornol (SPOTS SOME SMALL CHILDREN) Hey, bambino. The people and the kids look at him like he's an oddball, but Dave does not notice. A woman is shaking a rug ahead of him, and she looks so Italian that he can't help but smile. A big blonde GIRL is coming out of the house dressed in a waitress outfit. She sees Dave. G= Dave...is Moocher home? But Dave just rides past her in a daydream. CLOSEUP - A COUPLE ON A PORCH They're older PEOPLE. The Man is drinking a beer. WOMAN Tsk. Tsk. He was as normal as pumpkin pie and'now look x at him. The Man lets out a long beer belch. WOMAN His poor parents. 5 67 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 11 _ X l f T. BLASE HOUSE - DAY 10 MR. BLASE is sitting at a kitchen table. MRS. BLASE is boiling water. Mr. Blase does not look happy. He's got a flyswatter in his hand. He sees a fly. Whack. He hits it. He misses. MR. BLASE It's that cologne he wears. MRS. BLASE Neapolitan Sunset, it's called. MR. BLASE Well, it smells like fruit punch to me and it attracts flies. Mrs. Blase comes over and pours some hot water into his cup. She takes a package of Sanka from her apron pocket and puts it in the saucer. MRS. BLASE There. Mrs. Blase looks at the table. MR. BLASE This is itl MRS. BLASE You have to watch your diet. MR. BLASE Diet, if anybody found out I was on the diet they'd laugh me out of town. A diet. MRS. BLASE You know what the doctor said. At your age... MR. BLASE At my agel What the hell do you mean at my age. MRS. BLASE He says you have a bad heart. MR. BLASE Yeah, but it's got nothing to do with my age. It's our son that's ruining my heart, Evelyn. What's he going to do? He wanted a year with those bums so I gave him a year. CONT 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 12 X 10 Cont. MRS. BLASE It hasn't been a year yet. MR. BLASE But, Evelyn. Look whatts happened to him. He's turned into a ity; It was funny at first but it's not funny anymore. Ciao, Papa. Ciao, Mama. Arrivaderchit That's ity talk. MRS. BLASE It's just hero worship. He says the Italians are the best bike racers in'the world and he... MR. BLASE This is America, Evelyn. Only paper boys ride bikes and they earn money doing it. MRS. BLASE Re did win his bicycle and he was quite sickly 'til he started racing around and in three years ._ ne's... MR. BLASE (INTERRUPTS) So now his body's fine but his mind is gone. He used to be a smart kid. I thought he was going to goy to college. MRS. BLASE I thought you didn't want him to go to college. MR. BLASE Why should he go to college? I didn't go to college. When I was nineteen I was working in the quarries ten hours a day. MRS. BLASE But most of the quarries have shut down. MR. BLASE Let him find another job. MRS. BLASE But there aren't any jobs. 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/15/78 13 10 Cont.1 MR. BLASE Let him look at least. Let him come home tired from looking. He's never tired. MRS. BLASE He's young. MR. BLASE When I was young I was tired. I had my own place at seventeen. MRS. BLASE He says Italian families stay together, MR. BLASE BUT WE ARE NOT ITALIANI MRS. BLASE I know. It's just that I come from a big family myself. . .and it really was kind of nice... (smiles, half EMBARRASSED) He thinks we should have another kid. MR. BLASE What?t Dave enters carrying his trophy. DAVE Ah, buon giorno, Papa. MR. BLASE I'm your goddamned father, not papa. DAVE Buon giorno, Mama. MR. BLASE She's your goddamn mother. Whatcha do -- win again? Dave opens the fridge and takes out a hunk of cheese and a hunk of salami and starts eating. Mr. Blase looks at him like a wolf and then he looks at half a grapefruit in front of him. He finds it unbearable to watch him chew. Cont. 567 REVISED - "B.ANBINO" - 8/15/78 14 10 Cont.2 DAVE Yes, the victory ...she was easy. But the promoter...'fondatore' ...He says the Italian team...it will come maybe soon...and I will race with the best...ITALIANO. X Like the nightingale they sing, like the eagles they fly. Mr. Blase can't bear to watch him eat. He's starved. MR. BLASE Speaking of flies...there's a helluva lot of flies following you into the house. DAVE Fly in Italian is 'mosca.' MR. BLASE Well in English it's a pest. And speaking of pests... Mrs. Blase senses an argument. MRS .. BLASE It's a nice trophy isn't it, dear? MR. BLASE Yeah, so what. I've lived fifty years without ever getting a trophy. DAVE You never got trophy, Papa? MR. BLASE No, never, and what's more... Dave interrupts. DAVE Here, Papa. I give you. You are 'Numero Uno.' King Papa. Dave hands him the trophy. Mr. Blase is stunned. He'takes it. Before he can even think to give it back Dave kisses him on both cheeks. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/15/78 MR. BLASE Don't do thatl How many times... DAVE Now I'have to go and take a shower. (starts to leave AND PAUSES) Such a big house and so few people. I wish I had plenty of fratelly and sorelly to greet me when I come home and to wave when I go. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 15 10 Cont.3 Dave leaves. Mrs. Blase sighs. She too would like a big family. Mr. Blase is holding the trophy and looking at it. Neapolitan music is heard coming from Dave's room. Mr. Blase has had it. MR. BLASE There'-s that ity music again. X I'm going to have it out with him now. He goes to Dave's room carrying the trophy with him. Mrs. Blase follows him a few steps and stops. She waits... listening. She is apprehensive. She wants to follow and help Dave out but she stays behind wringing her hands. Mr. Blase reappears looking quite stunned. He's holding the trophy in one hand along his side. MRS. BLASE What's the matter? MR. BLASE HE'S SHAVINGL MRS. BLASE Well, so what? MR. BLASE His legs, Evelyn. He's shaving X his legs. I saw him. His legs. MT. DAVE' S BATHROOM 11 Huamoing along with the record player Dave is shaving away at his overly-lathered legs. OUT 12 CUT TO: INT. DAVE'S ROOM - CLOSEUP - THE STEREO - DAY 13 A record is turning. On top of the dust cover we see an album cover: ENRICO GIMDNDI SINGS NEAPOLITAN FAVORITES. X The CAMERA MOVES SLOWLY AROUND his room. There are bicycle trophies everywhere. Posters of Italian racers. Posters of Italian movies. Magazine covers and newspaper clippings from Italian racing magazines. Bicycle parts: Spare wheels...cranks...pedals. Several bicycle jerseys hanging on the doorknob.. ENRICO GINSONDI sings during.this tour of Dave's room. Dave comes out of the shower humming along. A cat comes to greet him, meowing. DAVE Ah, there you are Fellini... Hungry, eh? Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 16 13 Cont. He goes to a drawer and takes out a can of "Chef Boy-ar-dee" spaghetti and meatballs. Still humming, he opens the can and dumps the food into a deep ashtray with "CINZANO" written on the sides. DAVE Mangiare...mangiare... Be looks at the posters of the bicycle riders. He looks in the mirror. He takes a comb and combs his hair back in the "continental" style. Then he smiles. He picks up a book: "ITALIAN PEASE BOOK" and lies down on the bed to read it. EXT. MR. BLASE'S USED CAR LOT - DAY 14 A big sign: "CAMPUS CARS." The car lot is nowhere near the campus but the sign is considered good business. All around the car lot are other signs: BEST DEAL IN TOWN. CARS WITH A COLLEGE EDUCATION. The cars themselves have signs on them: "GRAD SCHOOL SPECIAL." "ENGLISH MAJOR" PhD" "HOMECOMING QUEEN" "CUM LAUDE" "MAGNA CUM LAUDE." CLOSEUP - MR. BLASE AND CUSTOMER The CUSTOMER is a young college kid. Mr. Blase is showing him the "HOMECOMING QUEEN." MR. BLASE It gets thirty miles to a gallon, X of course the mileage you get may vary. It's a beaut, right? Right. You sure know how to pick them. Frankly this is the best car on the lot. Quality product. DAVE (o.s. ) Ciao, Papal Mr. Blase cringes. Looks up. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE He's on his bike across the street. He's waving. DAVE'S P.O.V. Mr. Blase is looking at his Customer pretending he has no idea who Dave is. He shrugs and turns his back and quickly glances over his shoulder as Dave rides away. 567 17 EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 15 Students are everywhere and so are classroom buildings. Tall, new, limestone structures resembling office buildings. Students sit on the steps outside the buildings. They are lying around on the grass and walking to and from classes. All of them have books in hand. The wind is blowing. CLOSEUP - DAVE He's sitting next to his bike on the grass and looking around at all of them. In his hands he has his Italian Phrase Book: the book being his admission ticket into this world. It's obvious he's feeling a little out of place, but he enjoys looking at the campus world. A campus Police Car drives by and Dave quickly hides his face in the book. Waits for it to pass and when he looks up he is struck by something. MED. SHOT - KATHERINE - DAVE'S P.0.V. She's coming out of a classroom building with a bunch of books and papers in her hands. The wind is blowing her hair back. The CAMERA ZOOMS IN ON her face, isolating her from all the others, just as Dave is doing. CLOSEUP - DAVE His mouth is open. He blinks once. He swallows. DAVE Mama mia I CUT TO: MED. SHOT - KATHERINE As she's walking, she transfers her books from one hand to the other. A piece of paper escapes her and flies away in the wind. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE He sees the paper fly away and jumps up. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE She tries to go after the paper but the traffic keeps her from crossing the street. The paper's flying away. She gives up, and turns toward the parking lot just as we see Dave on his Cont. 567 18 15 Cont. bicycle chasing after the paper. He cuts through the cars, he cuts in front of them. The horns blow. The brakes screech. All Dave sees is the paper. He's on a mission. He cuts through the pedestrians crossing the street maneuvering brilliantly. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - A COLLEGE GUY He's just walking. He sees the piece of paper flying around and grabs it casually. Just as he's ready to read it a hand appears in the FRAME and snatches it away from him. It's Dave, riding away with the piece of paper in his hand. The College Guy just stands and looks after him. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE - ON A MOTOR SCOOTER 16 She's driving home. In her rearview mirror she spots something. A bicycle rider. He seems to be gaining on her. She speeds up almost instinctively. CUT TO: ANGLE ON DAVE - ON THE BIKE He's. got the paper in his mouth and he speeds up too. He shifts his gear. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE She's riding along. She glances in the rearview mirror and sees Dave quite close behind her with the paper in his mouth. She shifts her gears too. She smiles a little. CUT TO: ANGLE ON DAVE He's close enough to shout. He opens his mouth to shout. The paper flies out but he quickly catches it in mid-air. DAVE Signorina... He has momentarily lost ground on her but he sticks the paper in his mouth and pours it on. CUT TO: Cont. 5 67 REVISED - "BAMBINO"_ 8/12/78 19 16 Cont. ANGLE ON KATHERINE She's crossing the street just as the light changes. Dave crosses on the red light. Once again he's nearly hit by several cars. He follows Katherine up the hill leading to Fraternity Row. He overtakes her just as. she's about to turn into the drive leading to her sorority. But Dave is there on her right preventing her-from turning. She too almost hits him. She slams on her brakes. Dave slams on his. They come to a dead stop. DAVE Signorina...You... He's handing her the paper but then he pauses and pulls it back just as she's about to take it. He wipes the saliva off the paper on his jersey, and then gives it to her. DAVE It is yours...no? She takes the paper and smiles. Then she laughs. KATHERINE You mean you've been chasing me with this? Well, that's redly something. Thank you very much. Talk about chivalry. Dave is just looking at her. She's never seen anyone look at her quite like that. She's a bit confused. KATHERINE Well, thanks again. DAVE Is nothing...niente...signorina. KATHERINE What're you...an exchange student or something? - DAVE Si. I am Italian. My name is ENRICO GIMONDI. X KATHERINE And mine is Katherine Maxwell. DAVE Ah, Katherinal Cont. 367 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 20 X 16 Cont.l She likes the sound of this. But the way Dave looks at her is unsettling. KATHERINE Well, thanks again, again. 'BYE DAVE Ciao,. Katherina. Dave'rides away. She looks after him. OUT 17- 19 EXT. MOOCHER'S HOUSE - DAY 20 There's a big CAMPUS REALTY sign outside the house with a FOR-SALE tacked over it. NANCY is walking up to the screen door. She knocks. Moocher appears holding a huge barbell at shoulder height. They smile nervously at each other. MOOCHER NANCYL NANCY I was just on my way to work... Come in. He pushes the door open with one end of the barbell and lets her in checking the street to make sure nobody saw her. She goes in. Moocher shuts the other door too. INT. MOOCHER'S HOUSE - DAY 20-A The two room house is empty except for a sleeping bag and a wooden foot locker -- Moocher resumes working with the barbells. NANCY You know what? MOOCHER No, what? NANCY I'm leaving home that's what. MOOCHER Whatl Where're you going? Cont. 567 AiEVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 w 21 X 20-A Cont. NANCY About five blocks south. I found a nice little house to rent. It's so cute I could scream. My folks said I could have some'of their furniture from the basement. Maybe you could give me a hand...moving. MOOCHER Sure...if...If I'm not busy. You know. How's the Job? NANCY You know what! Frank said if I keep up the good work it'll just be a matter of time before I become a head cashier. I should go now. MOOCHER Maybe...eh...Maybe I'll walk you to work. I have to go that way anyway. She smiles, happy at the prospect of a nice walk together. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 21 Dave and Cyril are going through the outskirts of the campus. Dave is riding his bike slowly. Cyril is jogging along. They go past

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Breaking Away Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "BAMBINO" [ PRODUCED AS "BREAKING AWAY" ] Written by Steve Tesich June 9, 1978 FADE IN EXT. QUARRY OUTSKIRTS - DAY 1 A narrow dirt road totally surrounded by thick vegetation. Here and there we see a huge block of stone blocking the road. The sun is shining but it has a hard time making it through the foliage. In the distance we see four guys walking TOWARD the CAMERA. There is a swagger to their walk. MII is singing. The others are humming along. The melody of the song of "0 Bury Me Not On the Lone Prairie" but it's a loose version. MIME AND WHEN I DIE...WON'T YOU BURY ME ON THE"PARKING LOT OF THE A AND P BLOW OUT THE CANDLES AND BLOW OUT TIE LAMPS AND LIGHT MY PYRE WITH MY TRADING STAMPS I HAD TWO BOOKS BUT I NEEDED THREE R TO DELIVER ME FROM THE A AND P. I HAD THREE BOOKS BUT I NEEDED FOUR TO GO TO HEAVEN AND REDEEM MY SOUL. By this time the four are in front of the CAMERA. Mike is handsome and well built. CYRIL is tall and skinny. MOOCHER is very short. DAVE, hanging back a little, is carrying a large trophy. DAVE Bravo, Mike! Bravo! Bellisimot CYRIL Did you really make all that up? They pass. ANOTHER ANGLE The presence of the quarry is felt much stronger now. More and more blocks of cut stone appear. The guys are dwarfed by them. They have to climb over some. MIKE I sent away for this stuff from Wyoming. It'll tell you everything. Since you don't believe me maybe you'll believe it when you see it. CYRIL And we'd work on the same ranch and sleep in the bunkhouse together, eh? Cont. 567 REVISED '"BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 2 X 1 Cont. MOOCHER That's the whole point. CYRIL I always miss the whole point. MOOCHER It'd be nice to have a paying Job again, that's for sure. DAVE Niente laborare. Niente mangare. MIKE What's that mean? DAVE You don't work. You don't eat. CYRIL That's a terrible thing to say. MED. SHOT The quarries are felt even more now. Walls of stone rise up around the guys. CYRIL Are you really going to shave your legs? DAVE Certo. All the Italians do it. MIKE That's some country. The women don't shave theirs. CYRIL STOP! (pauses as if THUNDERSTRUCK; hand on heart) It was somewhere along here that I lost all interest in life. Ah, right over there. I.saw Dolores Reineke and fat Marvin. Why? Why Dolores? MOOCHER They're married now. Coat. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 3 X 1 Cont.1 MIRE You see what I saved you from, Cyril. Had I not told you about the two of them you never would have followed them out here. CYRIL- Thank you, Mike. You made me lose all interest in life and I'm grateful. MIKE My brother says he saw you and Nancy. Moocher. MOOCHER When? MIKE Last Friday? MOOCHER Wasn't me. I'm not seeing her anymore. ANOTHER ANGLE They are now standing above a huge pool of water with sheer cliffs on three sides. Abandoned derricks loom in the distance. Dave is now humming softly a Neapolitan song. They begin the descent. CYRIL I kind of miss school. You know. This will be the first time nobody's going to ask us to write a theme about how we spent our summer. MIKE Remember the Tomb of the Unknown Substitute Teacher. MOOCHER She believed us too. MIKE (TEACHER'S VOICE) Sex spelled backwards x-es. CYRIL When you're sixteen they call it sweet sixteen. When you're eighteen you get to drink, see dirty movies and vote. But what the hell do you do when you're nineteen. 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 3-A X 1 Cont.2 MIKE You leave home. CYRIL My dad says Jesus never went further than fifty miles from his home. Mike is skipping down the rocks toward the water, taking clothes off as he does. The rest follow. MIKE And look what happened to him. Mike jumps into the water. Moocher and Cyril follow. Dave looks on. FADE THROUGH TO: DAVE'S P.O.V. 1-A The guys are swimming. Dave is holding his trophy casually, enjoying the beautiful day. He pulls out a little Italian Phrase Book. Finds what he wants. DAVE Oggi fa bello,-non e vero? MIKE Sure thing, partner. MOOCHER C'mon in. DAVE I read where this Italian coach said you should never swim after a race. CYRIL Who's swimming? I'm taking a leak. Moocher and Mike splash water at him and swim away. FADE THROUGH TO: 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 4 ROCKS BY THE WATER 1-B All four guys are sunbathing looking at the water. Deep X down, at the bottom of the quarry hole we see an old icebox. Mike is staring at it. The mood is one of total relaxation. MIRE Aren't you glad we got fired from The A and P. Right now we'd be X working. MOOCHER We didn't get fired. You got- fired. We quit. MIKE One for all and all for one. MOOCHER There aren't many places, you know, that'll hire all four of USE CYRIL You know what I'd like to be? MIKE Smart. CYRIL A cartoon of some kind. Man, X that'd be great. Like when they get hit on their head with a frying pan and their head looks like a frying pan-with a handle and everything. And then they go b-r-r-r. (shakes his head) And their head comes back to normal. That'd be great.. MIKE How come you're so stupid, Cyril. CYRIL I don't know. I think I have a dumb heredity. What's your excuse, Mike? Mike hits him hard on the arm. Cyril winces. Mike stands up. He makes sure they're all watching and dives in. The guys talk as they follow his progress. DAVE You hear from your folks, Moocher? 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 5 1-B Coat. MOOCHER .. Yeah, my Dad called. He says there's a lot more jobs in'Chicago. He hasn't got anything yet. Mike has reached the icebox. He opens the door. Goes in. Shuts the door. MOOCHER He wanted to know if the house was sold. They could use the money. DAVE You can come and live with me when it's sold. In Italy everybody lives together. All three of them are getting concerned about Mike. MOOCHER Ever since you won that Italian X bike you've been acting weird. You really think you are Italian. CYRIL I .wouldn't mind thinking I was s omebody myself. All three of them stand up. MOOCHER Maybe the door is stuck. God dammit! Moocher dives in. Dave and Cyril follow. Moocher swims down to the icebox, forces the door open. They surface. As soon as they hit the surface we hear: MIKE o.s.} Yoo--hoo . THE GUYS' P.O.V. They see Mike standing on top of the rock above them. MIKE It's got no back on it! He laughs triumphantly. He's ready to dive in again when he pauses and looks. High above where he stands on the other side of the quarry hole, we see several figures. The guys are swimming toward the rocks and looking at the figures too. 5667 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 6 1-B Cont.l CLOSEUP - MIKE His face has hardened as he looks at the figures. MIKE What the hell are they doing here? X ANOTHER ANGLE Dave, Moocher and Cyril are standing on the rocks below Mike. Mike is still on top of the rock. High above him are the College Kids. Three guys and three girls. One of the guys is standing on the ledge above the water. Our guys are looking at the College Kid on the ledge. He seems intent on diving into the water. It's a distance of at least eighty feet. He pushes off and dives in executing a beautiful somersault into a swan dive. CLOSEUP - OUR GUYS They are stunned. CLOSEUP - MIKE He's obviously envious.. He looks from the diver toward the guys and seems to feel his position undermined. CYRIL I've never seen anyone dive off from there. MIS BASTARDS[ (CLIMBING DOWN THE ROCK) They've got indoor pools and outdoor pools on the campus but they got to come here. (Joins the guys) It's my goddamn quarry. Cyril assumes a very dramatic posture. Sings to the theme from Exodus. CYRIL This hole! This quarry hole is mine! MIKE Hey, screw you, Cyril. Let's get out of here. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6 6. 8 7 EXT. QUARRY - DAY 1-C They are retracing their steps out of the quarry. Mike is leading. -Moocher is behind him. Dave is at the end. He's carrying a huge trophy casually. X MIKE o.s.) If they re going to come here then we'll go on .the campus. MED. SHOT - MIKE'S CAR 1-D A racing bicycle is on top of the car. The guys are in the car and the car is moving fast through the dirt road leading out of the quarries. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 2 Mike is speeding through the town. A huge billboard with the Marlboro Man whizzes past us.. INT. MIKE'S CAR - Mike looks angry. He's got an unlit cigarette in his mouth. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 3 A car lot is on the right. "CAMPUS CARS.", MOOCHER Isn't your dad working today? DAVE (o.s.) No, the doctor told him to take it easy. He's taking Sunday's off. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - CITY HALL - DAY 4 City Hall is on the left. CYRIL (O S ) That's where you go to get a marriage license, Mooch. MOOCHER (o.s.) Yeah, so what? Cyril laughs and then howls as he's hit. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" ; 6/16/78 8 OUT 5 X EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 6 Huge modern structures are looming in the distance in stark contrast to the town we just passed through. Mike's car-is speeding toward them. X EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 7 Mike's car turns into a street called Fraternity Row.- Most of the fraternities and sororities-are located along this stretch. Neat lawns line the area. The houses are enormous: an architectural mixture of old manor house and modern motel. The college kids are outside on the lawns. Some are reading. Girls in bikinis sunbathing. Guys washing their cars. Some other guys passing the football around. Transistor radios playing. Mike drives slowly. INT. MIKE'S CAR All the guys are looking out of the windows as if they were in a museum. Mike looks at the expensive cars along the way. Cyril looks at the Girls in bikinis. Moocher looks at the huge well-built guys. Dave just looks. CYRIL Going to college must do'something 'to girls' tits. Just look at them. Campussies and sororititties. (sticks head out; shouts to a couple of Girls) - Hi, there. What's your major? The Girls look up and kind of sneer. MOOCHER They sure look like they've got it made. MIKE That's because they're rich. DAVE Italians are all poor but they're happy. MIKE Maybe in Italy. Cont. 567 9 7 Cont. CYRIL I wonder what it's like to kiss a coed. I wonder about it a lot. Ahead of Mike's car we see two Guys and two Girls playing Frisbee. They are standing on the lawns and throwing the Frisbee to each other across the street. Mike's car is moving slowly forward when an ill-thrown Frisbee lands on the street. Mike sees it and speeds up. A Girl is running to get it but Mike gets there first and runs over it. Dave gets a quick look at the Girl as she stops"suddenly to keep from getting hit. The two college Guys run out and give' Mike the finger. He sees them in the rearview mirror. MIKE Hey, those bastards are giving us the finger. He slams on the brakes. MOOCHER Hey, c'mon, Mike. We're on their turf. Dave is looking back at the Girl. The two Guys are challenging Mike, motioning to him to come back. The two Girls are trying to talk them out of it. Mike-is gunning the car. MIKE They think they own the place. MOOCHER They do. CYRIL Besides, you've humiliated them enough. In ancient Japan when you ran over a samurai's Frisbee he had to commit suicide. Just as he laughs Mike shifts the car in reverse. The two Guys and Girls are standing in the middle of the road. The Guys are coming forward thinking Mike's going to stop, but Mike has no intention of stopping. The Girls and the Guys split as Mike's car roars between them. Once again Dave catches a fleeting glimpse of the Girl. Having scattered them, Mike makes a U-turn and drives away in the direction he came from. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" 8/12/78 10 7 Cont.1 CLOSEUP - THE COLLEGE KIDS The girl Dave saw, KATHERINE, is looking after the car holding a cracked Frisbee in her hand. The tall well-built guy next to her, ROD, her boyfriend, looks real upset. He is wearing a Little 500 T-shirt. ROD Dumbass cutters. Goddamn redneck retards. OUT 8 CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE 9 riding. A Neapolitan melody plays as Dave rides holding his trophy:. a romantic song of the south and not southern Indiana. The small houses could be Italian houses to Dave. The people sitting on porches and steps could be Italians. Dave waves like a returning hero. DAVE Buon giornol Buon giornol (SPOTS SOME SMALL CHILDREN) Hey, bambino. The people and the kids look at him like he's an oddball, but Dave does not notice. A woman is shaking a rug ahead of him, and she looks so Italian that he can't help but smile. A big blonde GIRL is coming out of the house dressed in a waitress outfit. She sees Dave. G= Dave...is Moocher home? But Dave just rides past her in a daydream. CLOSEUP - A COUPLE ON A PORCH They're older PEOPLE. The Man is drinking a beer. WOMAN Tsk. Tsk. He was as normal as pumpkin pie and'now look x at him. The Man lets out a long beer belch. WOMAN His poor parents. 5 67 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 11 _ X l f T. BLASE HOUSE - DAY 10 MR. BLASE is sitting at a kitchen table. MRS. BLASE is boiling water. Mr. Blase does not look happy. He's got a flyswatter in his hand. He sees a fly. Whack. He hits it. He misses. MR. BLASE It's that cologne he wears. MRS. BLASE Neapolitan Sunset, it's called. MR. BLASE Well, it smells like fruit punch to me and it attracts flies. Mrs. Blase comes over and pours some hot water into his cup. She takes a package of Sanka from her apron pocket and puts it in the saucer. MRS. BLASE There. Mrs. Blase looks at the table. MR. BLASE This is itl MRS. BLASE You have to watch your diet. MR. BLASE Diet, if anybody found out I was on the diet they'd laugh me out of town. A diet. MRS. BLASE You know what the doctor said. At your age... MR. BLASE At my agel What the hell do you mean at my age. MRS. BLASE He says you have a bad heart. MR. BLASE Yeah, but it's got nothing to do with my age. It's our son that's ruining my heart, Evelyn. What's he going to do? He wanted a year with those bums so I gave him a year. CONT 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 12 X 10 Cont. MRS. BLASE It hasn't been a year yet. MR. BLASE But, Evelyn. Look whatts happened to him. He's turned into a ity; It was funny at first but it's not funny anymore. Ciao, Papa. Ciao, Mama. Arrivaderchit That's ity talk. MRS. BLASE It's just hero worship. He says the Italians are the best bike racers in'the world and he... MR. BLASE This is America, Evelyn. Only paper boys ride bikes and they earn money doing it. MRS. BLASE Re did win his bicycle and he was quite sickly 'til he started racing around and in three years ._ ne's... MR. BLASE (INTERRUPTS) So now his body's fine but his mind is gone. He used to be a smart kid. I thought he was going to goy to college. MRS. BLASE I thought you didn't want him to go to college. MR. BLASE Why should he go to college? I didn't go to college. When I was nineteen I was working in the quarries ten hours a day. MRS. BLASE But most of the quarries have shut down. MR. BLASE Let him find another job. MRS. BLASE But there aren't any jobs. 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/15/78 13 10 Cont.1 MR. BLASE Let him look at least. Let him come home tired from looking. He's never tired. MRS. BLASE He's young. MR. BLASE When I was young I was tired. I had my own place at seventeen. MRS. BLASE He says Italian families stay together, MR. BLASE BUT WE ARE NOT ITALIANI MRS. BLASE I know. It's just that I come from a big family myself. . .and it really was kind of nice... (smiles, half EMBARRASSED) He thinks we should have another kid. MR. BLASE What?t Dave enters carrying his trophy. DAVE Ah, buon giorno, Papa. MR. BLASE I'm your goddamned father, not papa. DAVE Buon giorno, Mama. MR. BLASE She's your goddamn mother. Whatcha do -- win again? Dave opens the fridge and takes out a hunk of cheese and a hunk of salami and starts eating. Mr. Blase looks at him like a wolf and then he looks at half a grapefruit in front of him. He finds it unbearable to watch him chew. Cont. 567 REVISED - "B.ANBINO" - 8/15/78 14 10 Cont.2 DAVE Yes, the victory ...she was easy. But the promoter...'fondatore' ...He says the Italian team...it will come maybe soon...and I will race with the best...ITALIANO. X Like the nightingale they sing, like the eagles they fly. Mr. Blase can't bear to watch him eat. He's starved. MR. BLASE Speaking of flies...there's a helluva lot of flies following you into the house. DAVE Fly in Italian is 'mosca.' MR. BLASE Well in English it's a pest. And speaking of pests... Mrs. Blase senses an argument. MRS .. BLASE It's a nice trophy isn't it, dear? MR. BLASE Yeah, so what. I've lived fifty years without ever getting a trophy. DAVE You never got trophy, Papa? MR. BLASE No, never, and what's more... Dave interrupts. DAVE Here, Papa. I give you. You are 'Numero Uno.' King Papa. Dave hands him the trophy. Mr. Blase is stunned. He'takes it. Before he can even think to give it back Dave kisses him on both cheeks. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/15/78 MR. BLASE Don't do thatl How many times... DAVE Now I'have to go and take a shower. (starts to leave AND PAUSES) Such a big house and so few people. I wish I had plenty of fratelly and sorelly to greet me when I come home and to wave when I go. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 15 10 Cont.3 Dave leaves. Mrs. Blase sighs. She too would like a big family. Mr. Blase is holding the trophy and looking at it. Neapolitan music is heard coming from Dave's room. Mr. Blase has had it. MR. BLASE There'-s that ity music again. X I'm going to have it out with him now. He goes to Dave's room carrying the trophy with him. Mrs. Blase follows him a few steps and stops. She waits... listening. She is apprehensive. She wants to follow and help Dave out but she stays behind wringing her hands. Mr. Blase reappears looking quite stunned. He's holding the trophy in one hand along his side. MRS. BLASE What's the matter? MR. BLASE HE'S SHAVINGL MRS. BLASE Well, so what? MR. BLASE His legs, Evelyn. He's shaving X his legs. I saw him. His legs. MT. DAVE' S BATHROOM 11 Huamoing along with the record player Dave is shaving away at his overly-lathered legs. OUT 12 CUT TO: INT. DAVE'S ROOM - CLOSEUP - THE STEREO - DAY 13 A record is turning. On top of the dust cover we see an album cover: ENRICO GIMDNDI SINGS NEAPOLITAN FAVORITES. X The CAMERA MOVES SLOWLY AROUND his room. There are bicycle trophies everywhere. Posters of Italian racers. Posters of Italian movies. Magazine covers and newspaper clippings from Italian racing magazines. Bicycle parts: Spare wheels...cranks...pedals. Several bicycle jerseys hanging on the doorknob.. ENRICO GINSONDI sings during.this tour of Dave's room. Dave comes out of the shower humming along. A cat comes to greet him, meowing. DAVE Ah, there you are Fellini... Hungry, eh? Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 16 13 Cont. He goes to a drawer and takes out a can of "Chef Boy-ar-dee" spaghetti and meatballs. Still humming, he opens the can and dumps the food into a deep ashtray with "CINZANO" written on the sides. DAVE Mangiare...mangiare... Be looks at the posters of the bicycle riders. He looks in the mirror. He takes a comb and combs his hair back in the "continental" style. Then he smiles. He picks up a book: "ITALIAN PEASE BOOK" and lies down on the bed to read it. EXT. MR. BLASE'S USED CAR LOT - DAY 14 A big sign: "CAMPUS CARS." The car lot is nowhere near the campus but the sign is considered good business. All around the car lot are other signs: BEST DEAL IN TOWN. CARS WITH A COLLEGE EDUCATION. The cars themselves have signs on them: "GRAD SCHOOL SPECIAL." "ENGLISH MAJOR" PhD" "HOMECOMING QUEEN" "CUM LAUDE" "MAGNA CUM LAUDE." CLOSEUP - MR. BLASE AND CUSTOMER The CUSTOMER is a young college kid. Mr. Blase is showing him the "HOMECOMING QUEEN." MR. BLASE It gets thirty miles to a gallon, X of course the mileage you get may vary. It's a beaut, right? Right. You sure know how to pick them. Frankly this is the best car on the lot. Quality product. DAVE (o.s. ) Ciao, Papal Mr. Blase cringes. Looks up. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE He's on his bike across the street. He's waving. DAVE'S P.O.V. Mr. Blase is looking at his Customer pretending he has no idea who Dave is. He shrugs and turns his back and quickly glances over his shoulder as Dave rides away. 567 17 EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 15 Students are everywhere and so are classroom buildings. Tall, new, limestone structures resembling office buildings. Students sit on the steps outside the buildings. They are lying around on the grass and walking to and from classes. All of them have books in hand. The wind is blowing. CLOSEUP - DAVE He's sitting next to his bike on the grass and looking around at all of them. In his hands he has his Italian Phrase Book: the book being his admission ticket into this world. It's obvious he's feeling a little out of place, but he enjoys looking at the campus world. A campus Police Car drives by and Dave quickly hides his face in the book. Waits for it to pass and when he looks up he is struck by something. MED. SHOT - KATHERINE - DAVE'S P.0.V. She's coming out of a classroom building with a bunch of books and papers in her hands. The wind is blowing her hair back. The CAMERA ZOOMS IN ON her face, isolating her from all the others, just as Dave is doing. CLOSEUP - DAVE His mouth is open. He blinks once. He swallows. DAVE Mama mia I CUT TO: MED. SHOT - KATHERINE As she's walking, she transfers her books from one hand to the other. A piece of paper escapes her and flies away in the wind. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE He sees the paper fly away and jumps up. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE She tries to go after the paper but the traffic keeps her from crossing the street. The paper's flying away. She gives up, and turns toward the parking lot just as we see Dave on his Cont. 567 18 15 Cont. bicycle chasing after the paper. He cuts through the cars, he cuts in front of them. The horns blow. The brakes screech. All Dave sees is the paper. He's on a mission. He cuts through the pedestrians crossing the street maneuvering brilliantly. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - A COLLEGE GUY He's just walking. He sees the piece of paper flying around and grabs it casually. Just as he's ready to read it a hand appears in the FRAME and snatches it away from him. It's Dave, riding away with the piece of paper in his hand. The College Guy just stands and looks after him. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE - ON A MOTOR SCOOTER 16 She's driving home. In her rearview mirror she spots something. A bicycle rider. He seems to be gaining on her. She speeds up almost instinctively. CUT TO: ANGLE ON DAVE - ON THE BIKE He's. got the paper in his mouth and he speeds up too. He shifts his gear. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE She's riding along. She glances in the rearview mirror and sees Dave quite close behind her with the paper in his mouth. She shifts her gears too. She smiles a little. CUT TO: ANGLE ON DAVE He's close enough to shout. He opens his mouth to shout. The paper flies out but he quickly catches it in mid-air. DAVE Signorina... He has momentarily lost ground on her but he sticks the paper in his mouth and pours it on. CUT TO: Cont. 5 67 REVISED - "BAMBINO"_ 8/12/78 19 16 Cont. ANGLE ON KATHERINE She's crossing the street just as the light changes. Dave crosses on the red light. Once again he's nearly hit by several cars. He follows Katherine up the hill leading to Fraternity Row. He overtakes her just as. she's about to turn into the drive leading to her sorority. But Dave is there on her right preventing her-from turning. She too almost hits him. She slams on her brakes. Dave slams on his. They come to a dead stop. DAVE Signorina...You... He's handing her the paper but then he pauses and pulls it back just as she's about to take it. He wipes the saliva off the paper on his jersey, and then gives it to her. DAVE It is yours...no? She takes the paper and smiles. Then she laughs. KATHERINE You mean you've been chasing me with this? Well, that's redly something. Thank you very much. Talk about chivalry. Dave is just looking at her. She's never seen anyone look at her quite like that. She's a bit confused. KATHERINE Well, thanks again. DAVE Is nothing...niente...signorina. KATHERINE What're you...an exchange student or something? - DAVE Si. I am Italian. My name is ENRICO GIMONDI. X KATHERINE And mine is Katherine Maxwell. DAVE Ah, Katherinal Cont. 367 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 20 X 16 Cont.l She likes the sound of this. But the way Dave looks at her is unsettling. KATHERINE Well, thanks again, again. 'BYE DAVE Ciao,. Katherina. Dave'rides away. She looks after him. OUT 17- 19 EXT. MOOCHER'S HOUSE - DAY 20 There's a big CAMPUS REALTY sign outside the house with a FOR-SALE tacked over it. NANCY is walking up to the screen door. She knocks. Moocher appears holding a huge barbell at shoulder height. They smile nervously at each other. MOOCHER NANCYL NANCY I was just on my way to work... Come in. He pushes the door open with one end of the barbell and lets her in checking the street to make sure nobody saw her. She goes in. Moocher shuts the other door too. INT. MOOCHER'S HOUSE - DAY 20-A The two room house is empty except for a sleeping bag and a wooden foot locker -- Moocher resumes working with the barbells. NANCY You know what? MOOCHER No, what? NANCY I'm leaving home that's what. MOOCHER Whatl Where're you going? Cont. 567 AiEVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 w 21 X 20-A Cont. NANCY About five blocks south. I found a nice little house to rent. It's so cute I could scream. My folks said I could have some'of their furniture from the basement. Maybe you could give me a hand...moving. MOOCHER Sure...if...If I'm not busy. You know. How's the Job? NANCY You know what! Frank said if I keep up the good work it'll just be a matter of time before I become a head cashier. I should go now. MOOCHER Maybe...eh...Maybe I'll walk you to work. I have to go that way anyway. She smiles, happy at the prospect of a nice walk together. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 21 Dave and Cyril are going through the outskirts of the campus. Dave is riding his bike slowly. Cyril is jogging along. They go past

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Breaking Away Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "BAMBINO" [ PRODUCED AS "BREAKING AWAY" ] Written by Steve Tesich June 9, 1978 FADE IN EXT. QUARRY OUTSKIRTS - DAY 1 A narrow dirt road totally surrounded by thick vegetation. Here and there we see a huge block of stone blocking the road. The sun is shining but it has a hard time making it through the foliage. In the distance we see four guys walking TOWARD the CAMERA. There is a swagger to their walk. MII is singing. The others are humming along. The melody of the song of "0 Bury Me Not On the Lone Prairie" but it's a loose version. MIME AND WHEN I DIE...WON'T YOU BURY ME ON THE"PARKING LOT OF THE A AND P BLOW OUT THE CANDLES AND BLOW OUT TIE LAMPS AND LIGHT MY PYRE WITH MY TRADING STAMPS I HAD TWO BOOKS BUT I NEEDED THREE R TO DELIVER ME FROM THE A AND P. I HAD THREE BOOKS BUT I NEEDED FOUR TO GO TO HEAVEN AND REDEEM MY SOUL. By this time the four are in front of the CAMERA. Mike is handsome and well built. CYRIL is tall and skinny. MOOCHER is very short. DAVE, hanging back a little, is carrying a large trophy. DAVE Bravo, Mike! Bravo! Bellisimot CYRIL Did you really make all that up? They pass. ANOTHER ANGLE The presence of the quarry is felt much stronger now. More and more blocks of cut stone appear. The guys are dwarfed by them. They have to climb over some. MIKE I sent away for this stuff from Wyoming. It'll tell you everything. Since you don't believe me maybe you'll believe it when you see it. CYRIL And we'd work on the same ranch and sleep in the bunkhouse together, eh? Cont. 567 REVISED '"BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 2 X 1 Cont. MOOCHER That's the whole point. CYRIL I always miss the whole point. MOOCHER It'd be nice to have a paying Job again, that's for sure. DAVE Niente laborare. Niente mangare. MIKE What's that mean? DAVE You don't work. You don't eat. CYRIL That's a terrible thing to say. MED. SHOT The quarries are felt even more now. Walls of stone rise up around the guys. CYRIL Are you really going to shave your legs? DAVE Certo. All the Italians do it. MIKE That's some country. The women don't shave theirs. CYRIL STOP! (pauses as if THUNDERSTRUCK; hand on heart) It was somewhere along here that I lost all interest in life. Ah, right over there. I.saw Dolores Reineke and fat Marvin. Why? Why Dolores? MOOCHER They're married now. Coat. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 3 X 1 Cont.1 MIRE You see what I saved you from, Cyril. Had I not told you about the two of them you never would have followed them out here. CYRIL- Thank you, Mike. You made me lose all interest in life and I'm grateful. MIKE My brother says he saw you and Nancy. Moocher. MOOCHER When? MIKE Last Friday? MOOCHER Wasn't me. I'm not seeing her anymore. ANOTHER ANGLE They are now standing above a huge pool of water with sheer cliffs on three sides. Abandoned derricks loom in the distance. Dave is now humming softly a Neapolitan song. They begin the descent. CYRIL I kind of miss school. You know. This will be the first time nobody's going to ask us to write a theme about how we spent our summer. MIKE Remember the Tomb of the Unknown Substitute Teacher. MOOCHER She believed us too. MIKE (TEACHER'S VOICE) Sex spelled backwards x-es. CYRIL When you're sixteen they call it sweet sixteen. When you're eighteen you get to drink, see dirty movies and vote. But what the hell do you do when you're nineteen. 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 3-A X 1 Cont.2 MIKE You leave home. CYRIL My dad says Jesus never went further than fifty miles from his home. Mike is skipping down the rocks toward the water, taking clothes off as he does. The rest follow. MIKE And look what happened to him. Mike jumps into the water. Moocher and Cyril follow. Dave looks on. FADE THROUGH TO: DAVE'S P.O.V. 1-A The guys are swimming. Dave is holding his trophy casually, enjoying the beautiful day. He pulls out a little Italian Phrase Book. Finds what he wants. DAVE Oggi fa bello,-non e vero? MIKE Sure thing, partner. MOOCHER C'mon in. DAVE I read where this Italian coach said you should never swim after a race. CYRIL Who's swimming? I'm taking a leak. Moocher and Mike splash water at him and swim away. FADE THROUGH TO: 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 4 ROCKS BY THE WATER 1-B All four guys are sunbathing looking at the water. Deep X down, at the bottom of the quarry hole we see an old icebox. Mike is staring at it. The mood is one of total relaxation. MIRE Aren't you glad we got fired from The A and P. Right now we'd be X working. MOOCHER We didn't get fired. You got- fired. We quit. MIKE One for all and all for one. MOOCHER There aren't many places, you know, that'll hire all four of USE CYRIL You know what I'd like to be? MIKE Smart. CYRIL A cartoon of some kind. Man, X that'd be great. Like when they get hit on their head with a frying pan and their head looks like a frying pan-with a handle and everything. And then they go b-r-r-r. (shakes his head) And their head comes back to normal. That'd be great.. MIKE How come you're so stupid, Cyril. CYRIL I don't know. I think I have a dumb heredity. What's your excuse, Mike? Mike hits him hard on the arm. Cyril winces. Mike stands up. He makes sure they're all watching and dives in. The guys talk as they follow his progress. DAVE You hear from your folks, Moocher? 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 5 1-B Coat. MOOCHER .. Yeah, my Dad called. He says there's a lot more jobs in'Chicago. He hasn't got anything yet. Mike has reached the icebox. He opens the door. Goes in. Shuts the door. MOOCHER He wanted to know if the house was sold. They could use the money. DAVE You can come and live with me when it's sold. In Italy everybody lives together. All three of them are getting concerned about Mike. MOOCHER Ever since you won that Italian X bike you've been acting weird. You really think you are Italian. CYRIL I .wouldn't mind thinking I was s omebody myself. All three of them stand up. MOOCHER Maybe the door is stuck. God dammit! Moocher dives in. Dave and Cyril follow. Moocher swims down to the icebox, forces the door open. They surface. As soon as they hit the surface we hear: MIKE o.s.} Yoo--hoo . THE GUYS' P.O.V. They see Mike standing on top of the rock above them. MIKE It's got no back on it! He laughs triumphantly. He's ready to dive in again when he pauses and looks. High above where he stands on the other side of the quarry hole, we see several figures. The guys are swimming toward the rocks and looking at the figures too. 5667 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 6 1-B Cont.l CLOSEUP - MIKE His face has hardened as he looks at the figures. MIKE What the hell are they doing here? X ANOTHER ANGLE Dave, Moocher and Cyril are standing on the rocks below Mike. Mike is still on top of the rock. High above him are the College Kids. Three guys and three girls. One of the guys is standing on the ledge above the water. Our guys are looking at the College Kid on the ledge. He seems intent on diving into the water. It's a distance of at least eighty feet. He pushes off and dives in executing a beautiful somersault into a swan dive. CLOSEUP - OUR GUYS They are stunned. CLOSEUP - MIKE He's obviously envious.. He looks from the diver toward the guys and seems to feel his position undermined. CYRIL I've never seen anyone dive off from there. MIS BASTARDS[ (CLIMBING DOWN THE ROCK) They've got indoor pools and outdoor pools on the campus but they got to come here. (Joins the guys) It's my goddamn quarry. Cyril assumes a very dramatic posture. Sings to the theme from Exodus. CYRIL This hole! This quarry hole is mine! MIKE Hey, screw you, Cyril. Let's get out of here. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6 6. 8 7 EXT. QUARRY - DAY 1-C They are retracing their steps out of the quarry. Mike is leading. -Moocher is behind him. Dave is at the end. He's carrying a huge trophy casually. X MIKE o.s.) If they re going to come here then we'll go on .the campus. MED. SHOT - MIKE'S CAR 1-D A racing bicycle is on top of the car. The guys are in the car and the car is moving fast through the dirt road leading out of the quarries. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 2 Mike is speeding through the town. A huge billboard with the Marlboro Man whizzes past us.. INT. MIKE'S CAR - Mike looks angry. He's got an unlit cigarette in his mouth. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 3 A car lot is on the right. "CAMPUS CARS.", MOOCHER Isn't your dad working today? DAVE (o.s.) No, the doctor told him to take it easy. He's taking Sunday's off. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - CITY HALL - DAY 4 City Hall is on the left. CYRIL (O S ) That's where you go to get a marriage license, Mooch. MOOCHER (o.s.) Yeah, so what? Cyril laughs and then howls as he's hit. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" ; 6/16/78 8 OUT 5 X EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 6 Huge modern structures are looming in the distance in stark contrast to the town we just passed through. Mike's car-is speeding toward them. X EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 7 Mike's car turns into a street called Fraternity Row.- Most of the fraternities and sororities-are located along this stretch. Neat lawns line the area. The houses are enormous: an architectural mixture of old manor house and modern motel. The college kids are outside on the lawns. Some are reading. Girls in bikinis sunbathing. Guys washing their cars. Some other guys passing the football around. Transistor radios playing. Mike drives slowly. INT. MIKE'S CAR All the guys are looking out of the windows as if they were in a museum. Mike looks at the expensive cars along the way. Cyril looks at the Girls in bikinis. Moocher looks at the huge well-built guys. Dave just looks. CYRIL Going to college must do'something 'to girls' tits. Just look at them. Campussies and sororititties. (sticks head out; shouts to a couple of Girls) - Hi, there. What's your major? The Girls look up and kind of sneer. MOOCHER They sure look like they've got it made. MIKE That's because they're rich. DAVE Italians are all poor but they're happy. MIKE Maybe in Italy. Cont. 567 9 7 Cont. CYRIL I wonder what it's like to kiss a coed. I wonder about it a lot. Ahead of Mike's car we see two Guys and two Girls playing Frisbee. They are standing on the lawns and throwing the Frisbee to each other across the street. Mike's car is moving slowly forward when an ill-thrown Frisbee lands on the street. Mike sees it and speeds up. A Girl is running to get it but Mike gets there first and runs over it. Dave gets a quick look at the Girl as she stops"suddenly to keep from getting hit. The two college Guys run out and give' Mike the finger. He sees them in the rearview mirror. MIKE Hey, those bastards are giving us the finger. He slams on the brakes. MOOCHER Hey, c'mon, Mike. We're on their turf. Dave is looking back at the Girl. The two Guys are challenging Mike, motioning to him to come back. The two Girls are trying to talk them out of it. Mike-is gunning the car. MIKE They think they own the place. MOOCHER They do. CYRIL Besides, you've humiliated them enough. In ancient Japan when you ran over a samurai's Frisbee he had to commit suicide. Just as he laughs Mike shifts the car in reverse. The two Guys and Girls are standing in the middle of the road. The Guys are coming forward thinking Mike's going to stop, but Mike has no intention of stopping. The Girls and the Guys split as Mike's car roars between them. Once again Dave catches a fleeting glimpse of the Girl. Having scattered them, Mike makes a U-turn and drives away in the direction he came from. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" 8/12/78 10 7 Cont.1 CLOSEUP - THE COLLEGE KIDS The girl Dave saw, KATHERINE, is looking after the car holding a cracked Frisbee in her hand. The tall well-built guy next to her, ROD, her boyfriend, looks real upset. He is wearing a Little 500 T-shirt. ROD Dumbass cutters. Goddamn redneck retards. OUT 8 CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE 9 riding. A Neapolitan melody plays as Dave rides holding his trophy:. a romantic song of the south and not southern Indiana. The small houses could be Italian houses to Dave. The people sitting on porches and steps could be Italians. Dave waves like a returning hero. DAVE Buon giornol Buon giornol (SPOTS SOME SMALL CHILDREN) Hey, bambino. The people and the kids look at him like he's an oddball, but Dave does not notice. A woman is shaking a rug ahead of him, and she looks so Italian that he can't help but smile. A big blonde GIRL is coming out of the house dressed in a waitress outfit. She sees Dave. G= Dave...is Moocher home? But Dave just rides past her in a daydream. CLOSEUP - A COUPLE ON A PORCH They're older PEOPLE. The Man is drinking a beer. WOMAN Tsk. Tsk. He was as normal as pumpkin pie and'now look x at him. The Man lets out a long beer belch. WOMAN His poor parents. 5 67 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 11 _ X l f T. BLASE HOUSE - DAY 10 MR. BLASE is sitting at a kitchen table. MRS. BLASE is boiling water. Mr. Blase does not look happy. He's got a flyswatter in his hand. He sees a fly. Whack. He hits it. He misses. MR. BLASE It's that cologne he wears. MRS. BLASE Neapolitan Sunset, it's called. MR. BLASE Well, it smells like fruit punch to me and it attracts flies. Mrs. Blase comes over and pours some hot water into his cup. She takes a package of Sanka from her apron pocket and puts it in the saucer. MRS. BLASE There. Mrs. Blase looks at the table. MR. BLASE This is itl MRS. BLASE You have to watch your diet. MR. BLASE Diet, if anybody found out I was on the diet they'd laugh me out of town. A diet. MRS. BLASE You know what the doctor said. At your age... MR. BLASE At my agel What the hell do you mean at my age. MRS. BLASE He says you have a bad heart. MR. BLASE Yeah, but it's got nothing to do with my age. It's our son that's ruining my heart, Evelyn. What's he going to do? He wanted a year with those bums so I gave him a year. CONT 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 12 X 10 Cont. MRS. BLASE It hasn't been a year yet. MR. BLASE But, Evelyn. Look whatts happened to him. He's turned into a ity; It was funny at first but it's not funny anymore. Ciao, Papa. Ciao, Mama. Arrivaderchit That's ity talk. MRS. BLASE It's just hero worship. He says the Italians are the best bike racers in'the world and he... MR. BLASE This is America, Evelyn. Only paper boys ride bikes and they earn money doing it. MRS. BLASE Re did win his bicycle and he was quite sickly 'til he started racing around and in three years ._ ne's... MR. BLASE (INTERRUPTS) So now his body's fine but his mind is gone. He used to be a smart kid. I thought he was going to goy to college. MRS. BLASE I thought you didn't want him to go to college. MR. BLASE Why should he go to college? I didn't go to college. When I was nineteen I was working in the quarries ten hours a day. MRS. BLASE But most of the quarries have shut down. MR. BLASE Let him find another job. MRS. BLASE But there aren't any jobs. 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/15/78 13 10 Cont.1 MR. BLASE Let him look at least. Let him come home tired from looking. He's never tired. MRS. BLASE He's young. MR. BLASE When I was young I was tired. I had my own place at seventeen. MRS. BLASE He says Italian families stay together, MR. BLASE BUT WE ARE NOT ITALIANI MRS. BLASE I know. It's just that I come from a big family myself. . .and it really was kind of nice... (smiles, half EMBARRASSED) He thinks we should have another kid. MR. BLASE What?t Dave enters carrying his trophy. DAVE Ah, buon giorno, Papa. MR. BLASE I'm your goddamned father, not papa. DAVE Buon giorno, Mama. MR. BLASE She's your goddamn mother. Whatcha do -- win again? Dave opens the fridge and takes out a hunk of cheese and a hunk of salami and starts eating. Mr. Blase looks at him like a wolf and then he looks at half a grapefruit in front of him. He finds it unbearable to watch him chew. Cont. 567 REVISED - "B.ANBINO" - 8/15/78 14 10 Cont.2 DAVE Yes, the victory ...she was easy. But the promoter...'fondatore' ...He says the Italian team...it will come maybe soon...and I will race with the best...ITALIANO. X Like the nightingale they sing, like the eagles they fly. Mr. Blase can't bear to watch him eat. He's starved. MR. BLASE Speaking of flies...there's a helluva lot of flies following you into the house. DAVE Fly in Italian is 'mosca.' MR. BLASE Well in English it's a pest. And speaking of pests... Mrs. Blase senses an argument. MRS .. BLASE It's a nice trophy isn't it, dear? MR. BLASE Yeah, so what. I've lived fifty years without ever getting a trophy. DAVE You never got trophy, Papa? MR. BLASE No, never, and what's more... Dave interrupts. DAVE Here, Papa. I give you. You are 'Numero Uno.' King Papa. Dave hands him the trophy. Mr. Blase is stunned. He'takes it. Before he can even think to give it back Dave kisses him on both cheeks. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/15/78 MR. BLASE Don't do thatl How many times... DAVE Now I'have to go and take a shower. (starts to leave AND PAUSES) Such a big house and so few people. I wish I had plenty of fratelly and sorelly to greet me when I come home and to wave when I go. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 15 10 Cont.3 Dave leaves. Mrs. Blase sighs. She too would like a big family. Mr. Blase is holding the trophy and looking at it. Neapolitan music is heard coming from Dave's room. Mr. Blase has had it. MR. BLASE There'-s that ity music again. X I'm going to have it out with him now. He goes to Dave's room carrying the trophy with him. Mrs. Blase follows him a few steps and stops. She waits... listening. She is apprehensive. She wants to follow and help Dave out but she stays behind wringing her hands. Mr. Blase reappears looking quite stunned. He's holding the trophy in one hand along his side. MRS. BLASE What's the matter? MR. BLASE HE'S SHAVINGL MRS. BLASE Well, so what? MR. BLASE His legs, Evelyn. He's shaving X his legs. I saw him. His legs. MT. DAVE' S BATHROOM 11 Huamoing along with the record player Dave is shaving away at his overly-lathered legs. OUT 12 CUT TO: INT. DAVE'S ROOM - CLOSEUP - THE STEREO - DAY 13 A record is turning. On top of the dust cover we see an album cover: ENRICO GIMDNDI SINGS NEAPOLITAN FAVORITES. X The CAMERA MOVES SLOWLY AROUND his room. There are bicycle trophies everywhere. Posters of Italian racers. Posters of Italian movies. Magazine covers and newspaper clippings from Italian racing magazines. Bicycle parts: Spare wheels...cranks...pedals. Several bicycle jerseys hanging on the doorknob.. ENRICO GINSONDI sings during.this tour of Dave's room. Dave comes out of the shower humming along. A cat comes to greet him, meowing. DAVE Ah, there you are Fellini... Hungry, eh? Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 16 13 Cont. He goes to a drawer and takes out a can of "Chef Boy-ar-dee" spaghetti and meatballs. Still humming, he opens the can and dumps the food into a deep ashtray with "CINZANO" written on the sides. DAVE Mangiare...mangiare... Be looks at the posters of the bicycle riders. He looks in the mirror. He takes a comb and combs his hair back in the "continental" style. Then he smiles. He picks up a book: "ITALIAN PEASE BOOK" and lies down on the bed to read it. EXT. MR. BLASE'S USED CAR LOT - DAY 14 A big sign: "CAMPUS CARS." The car lot is nowhere near the campus but the sign is considered good business. All around the car lot are other signs: BEST DEAL IN TOWN. CARS WITH A COLLEGE EDUCATION. The cars themselves have signs on them: "GRAD SCHOOL SPECIAL." "ENGLISH MAJOR" PhD" "HOMECOMING QUEEN" "CUM LAUDE" "MAGNA CUM LAUDE." CLOSEUP - MR. BLASE AND CUSTOMER The CUSTOMER is a young college kid. Mr. Blase is showing him the "HOMECOMING QUEEN." MR. BLASE It gets thirty miles to a gallon, X of course the mileage you get may vary. It's a beaut, right? Right. You sure know how to pick them. Frankly this is the best car on the lot. Quality product. DAVE (o.s. ) Ciao, Papal Mr. Blase cringes. Looks up. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE He's on his bike across the street. He's waving. DAVE'S P.O.V. Mr. Blase is looking at his Customer pretending he has no idea who Dave is. He shrugs and turns his back and quickly glances over his shoulder as Dave rides away. 567 17 EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 15 Students are everywhere and so are classroom buildings. Tall, new, limestone structures resembling office buildings. Students sit on the steps outside the buildings. They are lying around on the grass and walking to and from classes. All of them have books in hand. The wind is blowing. CLOSEUP - DAVE He's sitting next to his bike on the grass and looking around at all of them. In his hands he has his Italian Phrase Book: the book being his admission ticket into this world. It's obvious he's feeling a little out of place, but he enjoys looking at the campus world. A campus Police Car drives by and Dave quickly hides his face in the book. Waits for it to pass and when he looks up he is struck by something. MED. SHOT - KATHERINE - DAVE'S P.0.V. She's coming out of a classroom building with a bunch of books and papers in her hands. The wind is blowing her hair back. The CAMERA ZOOMS IN ON her face, isolating her from all the others, just as Dave is doing. CLOSEUP - DAVE His mouth is open. He blinks once. He swallows. DAVE Mama mia I CUT TO: MED. SHOT - KATHERINE As she's walking, she transfers her books from one hand to the other. A piece of paper escapes her and flies away in the wind. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE He sees the paper fly away and jumps up. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE She tries to go after the paper but the traffic keeps her from crossing the street. The paper's flying away. She gives up, and turns toward the parking lot just as we see Dave on his Cont. 567 18 15 Cont. bicycle chasing after the paper. He cuts through the cars, he cuts in front of them. The horns blow. The brakes screech. All Dave sees is the paper. He's on a mission. He cuts through the pedestrians crossing the street maneuvering brilliantly. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - A COLLEGE GUY He's just walking. He sees the piece of paper flying around and grabs it casually. Just as he's ready to read it a hand appears in the FRAME and snatches it away from him. It's Dave, riding away with the piece of paper in his hand. The College Guy just stands and looks after him. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE - ON A MOTOR SCOOTER 16 She's driving home. In her rearview mirror she spots something. A bicycle rider. He seems to be gaining on her. She speeds up almost instinctively. CUT TO: ANGLE ON DAVE - ON THE BIKE He's. got the paper in his mouth and he speeds up too. He shifts his gear. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE She's riding along. She glances in the rearview mirror and sees Dave quite close behind her with the paper in his mouth. She shifts her gears too. She smiles a little. CUT TO: ANGLE ON DAVE He's close enough to shout. He opens his mouth to shout. The paper flies out but he quickly catches it in mid-air. DAVE Signorina... He has momentarily lost ground on her but he sticks the paper in his mouth and pours it on. CUT TO: Cont. 5 67 REVISED - "BAMBINO"_ 8/12/78 19 16 Cont. ANGLE ON KATHERINE She's crossing the street just as the light changes. Dave crosses on the red light. Once again he's nearly hit by several cars. He follows Katherine up the hill leading to Fraternity Row. He overtakes her just as. she's about to turn into the drive leading to her sorority. But Dave is there on her right preventing her-from turning. She too almost hits him. She slams on her brakes. Dave slams on his. They come to a dead stop. DAVE Signorina...You... He's handing her the paper but then he pauses and pulls it back just as she's about to take it. He wipes the saliva off the paper on his jersey, and then gives it to her. DAVE It is yours...no? She takes the paper and smiles. Then she laughs. KATHERINE You mean you've been chasing me with this? Well, that's redly something. Thank you very much. Talk about chivalry. Dave is just looking at her. She's never seen anyone look at her quite like that. She's a bit confused. KATHERINE Well, thanks again. DAVE Is nothing...niente...signorina. KATHERINE What're you...an exchange student or something? - DAVE Si. I am Italian. My name is ENRICO GIMONDI. X KATHERINE And mine is Katherine Maxwell. DAVE Ah, Katherinal Cont. 367 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 20 X 16 Cont.l She likes the sound of this. But the way Dave looks at her is unsettling. KATHERINE Well, thanks again, again. 'BYE DAVE Ciao,. Katherina. Dave'rides away. She looks after him. OUT 17- 19 EXT. MOOCHER'S HOUSE - DAY 20 There's a big CAMPUS REALTY sign outside the house with a FOR-SALE tacked over it. NANCY is walking up to the screen door. She knocks. Moocher appears holding a huge barbell at shoulder height. They smile nervously at each other. MOOCHER NANCYL NANCY I was just on my way to work... Come in. He pushes the door open with one end of the barbell and lets her in checking the street to make sure nobody saw her. She goes in. Moocher shuts the other door too. INT. MOOCHER'S HOUSE - DAY 20-A The two room house is empty except for a sleeping bag and a wooden foot locker -- Moocher resumes working with the barbells. NANCY You know what? MOOCHER No, what? NANCY I'm leaving home that's what. MOOCHER Whatl Where're you going? Cont. 567 AiEVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 w 21 X 20-A Cont. NANCY About five blocks south. I found a nice little house to rent. It's so cute I could scream. My folks said I could have some'of their furniture from the basement. Maybe you could give me a hand...moving. MOOCHER Sure...if...If I'm not busy. You know. How's the Job? NANCY You know what! Frank said if I keep up the good work it'll just be a matter of time before I become a head cashier. I should go now. MOOCHER Maybe...eh...Maybe I'll walk you to work. I have to go that way anyway. She smiles, happy at the prospect of a nice walk together. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 21 Dave and Cyril are going through the outskirts of the campus. Dave is riding his bike slowly. Cyril is jogging along. They go past

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Breaking Away Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "BAMBINO" [ PRODUCED AS "BREAKING AWAY" ] Written by Steve Tesich June 9, 1978 FADE IN EXT. QUARRY OUTSKIRTS - DAY 1 A narrow dirt road totally surrounded by thick vegetation. Here and there we see a huge block of stone blocking the road. The sun is shining but it has a hard time making it through the foliage. In the distance we see four guys walking TOWARD the CAMERA. There is a swagger to their walk. MII is singing. The others are humming along. The melody of the song of "0 Bury Me Not On the Lone Prairie" but it's a loose version. MIME AND WHEN I DIE...WON'T YOU BURY ME ON THE"PARKING LOT OF THE A AND P BLOW OUT THE CANDLES AND BLOW OUT TIE LAMPS AND LIGHT MY PYRE WITH MY TRADING STAMPS I HAD TWO BOOKS BUT I NEEDED THREE R TO DELIVER ME FROM THE A AND P. I HAD THREE BOOKS BUT I NEEDED FOUR TO GO TO HEAVEN AND REDEEM MY SOUL. By this time the four are in front of the CAMERA. Mike is handsome and well built. CYRIL is tall and skinny. MOOCHER is very short. DAVE, hanging back a little, is carrying a large trophy. DAVE Bravo, Mike! Bravo! Bellisimot CYRIL Did you really make all that up? They pass. ANOTHER ANGLE The presence of the quarry is felt much stronger now. More and more blocks of cut stone appear. The guys are dwarfed by them. They have to climb over some. MIKE I sent away for this stuff from Wyoming. It'll tell you everything. Since you don't believe me maybe you'll believe it when you see it. CYRIL And we'd work on the same ranch and sleep in the bunkhouse together, eh? Cont. 567 REVISED '"BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 2 X 1 Cont. MOOCHER That's the whole point. CYRIL I always miss the whole point. MOOCHER It'd be nice to have a paying Job again, that's for sure. DAVE Niente laborare. Niente mangare. MIKE What's that mean? DAVE You don't work. You don't eat. CYRIL That's a terrible thing to say. MED. SHOT The quarries are felt even more now. Walls of stone rise up around the guys. CYRIL Are you really going to shave your legs? DAVE Certo. All the Italians do it. MIKE That's some country. The women don't shave theirs. CYRIL STOP! (pauses as if THUNDERSTRUCK; hand on heart) It was somewhere along here that I lost all interest in life. Ah, right over there. I.saw Dolores Reineke and fat Marvin. Why? Why Dolores? MOOCHER They're married now. Coat. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 3 X 1 Cont.1 MIRE You see what I saved you from, Cyril. Had I not told you about the two of them you never would have followed them out here. CYRIL- Thank you, Mike. You made me lose all interest in life and I'm grateful. MIKE My brother says he saw you and Nancy. Moocher. MOOCHER When? MIKE Last Friday? MOOCHER Wasn't me. I'm not seeing her anymore. ANOTHER ANGLE They are now standing above a huge pool of water with sheer cliffs on three sides. Abandoned derricks loom in the distance. Dave is now humming softly a Neapolitan song. They begin the descent. CYRIL I kind of miss school. You know. This will be the first time nobody's going to ask us to write a theme about how we spent our summer. MIKE Remember the Tomb of the Unknown Substitute Teacher. MOOCHER She believed us too. MIKE (TEACHER'S VOICE) Sex spelled backwards x-es. CYRIL When you're sixteen they call it sweet sixteen. When you're eighteen you get to drink, see dirty movies and vote. But what the hell do you do when you're nineteen. 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 3-A X 1 Cont.2 MIKE You leave home. CYRIL My dad says Jesus never went further than fifty miles from his home. Mike is skipping down the rocks toward the water, taking clothes off as he does. The rest follow. MIKE And look what happened to him. Mike jumps into the water. Moocher and Cyril follow. Dave looks on. FADE THROUGH TO: DAVE'S P.O.V. 1-A The guys are swimming. Dave is holding his trophy casually, enjoying the beautiful day. He pulls out a little Italian Phrase Book. Finds what he wants. DAVE Oggi fa bello,-non e vero? MIKE Sure thing, partner. MOOCHER C'mon in. DAVE I read where this Italian coach said you should never swim after a race. CYRIL Who's swimming? I'm taking a leak. Moocher and Mike splash water at him and swim away. FADE THROUGH TO: 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 4 ROCKS BY THE WATER 1-B All four guys are sunbathing looking at the water. Deep X down, at the bottom of the quarry hole we see an old icebox. Mike is staring at it. The mood is one of total relaxation. MIRE Aren't you glad we got fired from The A and P. Right now we'd be X working. MOOCHER We didn't get fired. You got- fired. We quit. MIKE One for all and all for one. MOOCHER There aren't many places, you know, that'll hire all four of USE CYRIL You know what I'd like to be? MIKE Smart. CYRIL A cartoon of some kind. Man, X that'd be great. Like when they get hit on their head with a frying pan and their head looks like a frying pan-with a handle and everything. And then they go b-r-r-r. (shakes his head) And their head comes back to normal. That'd be great.. MIKE How come you're so stupid, Cyril. CYRIL I don't know. I think I have a dumb heredity. What's your excuse, Mike? Mike hits him hard on the arm. Cyril winces. Mike stands up. He makes sure they're all watching and dives in. The guys talk as they follow his progress. DAVE You hear from your folks, Moocher? 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 5 1-B Coat. MOOCHER .. Yeah, my Dad called. He says there's a lot more jobs in'Chicago. He hasn't got anything yet. Mike has reached the icebox. He opens the door. Goes in. Shuts the door. MOOCHER He wanted to know if the house was sold. They could use the money. DAVE You can come and live with me when it's sold. In Italy everybody lives together. All three of them are getting concerned about Mike. MOOCHER Ever since you won that Italian X bike you've been acting weird. You really think you are Italian. CYRIL I .wouldn't mind thinking I was s omebody myself. All three of them stand up. MOOCHER Maybe the door is stuck. God dammit! Moocher dives in. Dave and Cyril follow. Moocher swims down to the icebox, forces the door open. They surface. As soon as they hit the surface we hear: MIKE o.s.} Yoo--hoo . THE GUYS' P.O.V. They see Mike standing on top of the rock above them. MIKE It's got no back on it! He laughs triumphantly. He's ready to dive in again when he pauses and looks. High above where he stands on the other side of the quarry hole, we see several figures. The guys are swimming toward the rocks and looking at the figures too. 5667 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 6 1-B Cont.l CLOSEUP - MIKE His face has hardened as he looks at the figures. MIKE What the hell are they doing here? X ANOTHER ANGLE Dave, Moocher and Cyril are standing on the rocks below Mike. Mike is still on top of the rock. High above him are the College Kids. Three guys and three girls. One of the guys is standing on the ledge above the water. Our guys are looking at the College Kid on the ledge. He seems intent on diving into the water. It's a distance of at least eighty feet. He pushes off and dives in executing a beautiful somersault into a swan dive. CLOSEUP - OUR GUYS They are stunned. CLOSEUP - MIKE He's obviously envious.. He looks from the diver toward the guys and seems to feel his position undermined. CYRIL I've never seen anyone dive off from there. MIS BASTARDS[ (CLIMBING DOWN THE ROCK) They've got indoor pools and outdoor pools on the campus but they got to come here. (Joins the guys) It's my goddamn quarry. Cyril assumes a very dramatic posture. Sings to the theme from Exodus. CYRIL This hole! This quarry hole is mine! MIKE Hey, screw you, Cyril. Let's get out of here. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6 6. 8 7 EXT. QUARRY - DAY 1-C They are retracing their steps out of the quarry. Mike is leading. -Moocher is behind him. Dave is at the end. He's carrying a huge trophy casually. X MIKE o.s.) If they re going to come here then we'll go on .the campus. MED. SHOT - MIKE'S CAR 1-D A racing bicycle is on top of the car. The guys are in the car and the car is moving fast through the dirt road leading out of the quarries. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 2 Mike is speeding through the town. A huge billboard with the Marlboro Man whizzes past us.. INT. MIKE'S CAR - Mike looks angry. He's got an unlit cigarette in his mouth. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 3 A car lot is on the right. "CAMPUS CARS.", MOOCHER Isn't your dad working today? DAVE (o.s.) No, the doctor told him to take it easy. He's taking Sunday's off. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - CITY HALL - DAY 4 City Hall is on the left. CYRIL (O S ) That's where you go to get a marriage license, Mooch. MOOCHER (o.s.) Yeah, so what? Cyril laughs and then howls as he's hit. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" ; 6/16/78 8 OUT 5 X EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 6 Huge modern structures are looming in the distance in stark contrast to the town we just passed through. Mike's car-is speeding toward them. X EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 7 Mike's car turns into a street called Fraternity Row.- Most of the fraternities and sororities-are located along this stretch. Neat lawns line the area. The houses are enormous: an architectural mixture of old manor house and modern motel. The college kids are outside on the lawns. Some are reading. Girls in bikinis sunbathing. Guys washing their cars. Some other guys passing the football around. Transistor radios playing. Mike drives slowly. INT. MIKE'S CAR All the guys are looking out of the windows as if they were in a museum. Mike looks at the expensive cars along the way. Cyril looks at the Girls in bikinis. Moocher looks at the huge well-built guys. Dave just looks. CYRIL Going to college must do'something 'to girls' tits. Just look at them. Campussies and sororititties. (sticks head out; shouts to a couple of Girls) - Hi, there. What's your major? The Girls look up and kind of sneer. MOOCHER They sure look like they've got it made. MIKE That's because they're rich. DAVE Italians are all poor but they're happy. MIKE Maybe in Italy. Cont. 567 9 7 Cont. CYRIL I wonder what it's like to kiss a coed. I wonder about it a lot. Ahead of Mike's car we see two Guys and two Girls playing Frisbee. They are standing on the lawns and throwing the Frisbee to each other across the street. Mike's car is moving slowly forward when an ill-thrown Frisbee lands on the street. Mike sees it and speeds up. A Girl is running to get it but Mike gets there first and runs over it. Dave gets a quick look at the Girl as she stops"suddenly to keep from getting hit. The two college Guys run out and give' Mike the finger. He sees them in the rearview mirror. MIKE Hey, those bastards are giving us the finger. He slams on the brakes. MOOCHER Hey, c'mon, Mike. We're on their turf. Dave is looking back at the Girl. The two Guys are challenging Mike, motioning to him to come back. The two Girls are trying to talk them out of it. Mike-is gunning the car. MIKE They think they own the place. MOOCHER They do. CYRIL Besides, you've humiliated them enough. In ancient Japan when you ran over a samurai's Frisbee he had to commit suicide. Just as he laughs Mike shifts the car in reverse. The two Guys and Girls are standing in the middle of the road. The Guys are coming forward thinking Mike's going to stop, but Mike has no intention of stopping. The Girls and the Guys split as Mike's car roars between them. Once again Dave catches a fleeting glimpse of the Girl. Having scattered them, Mike makes a U-turn and drives away in the direction he came from. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" 8/12/78 10 7 Cont.1 CLOSEUP - THE COLLEGE KIDS The girl Dave saw, KATHERINE, is looking after the car holding a cracked Frisbee in her hand. The tall well-built guy next to her, ROD, her boyfriend, looks real upset. He is wearing a Little 500 T-shirt. ROD Dumbass cutters. Goddamn redneck retards. OUT 8 CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE 9 riding. A Neapolitan melody plays as Dave rides holding his trophy:. a romantic song of the south and not southern Indiana. The small houses could be Italian houses to Dave. The people sitting on porches and steps could be Italians. Dave waves like a returning hero. DAVE Buon giornol Buon giornol (SPOTS SOME SMALL CHILDREN) Hey, bambino. The people and the kids look at him like he's an oddball, but Dave does not notice. A woman is shaking a rug ahead of him, and she looks so Italian that he can't help but smile. A big blonde GIRL is coming out of the house dressed in a waitress outfit. She sees Dave. G= Dave...is Moocher home? But Dave just rides past her in a daydream. CLOSEUP - A COUPLE ON A PORCH They're older PEOPLE. The Man is drinking a beer. WOMAN Tsk. Tsk. He was as normal as pumpkin pie and'now look x at him. The Man lets out a long beer belch. WOMAN His poor parents. 5 67 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 11 _ X l f T. BLASE HOUSE - DAY 10 MR. BLASE is sitting at a kitchen table. MRS. BLASE is boiling water. Mr. Blase does not look happy. He's got a flyswatter in his hand. He sees a fly. Whack. He hits it. He misses. MR. BLASE It's that cologne he wears. MRS. BLASE Neapolitan Sunset, it's called. MR. BLASE Well, it smells like fruit punch to me and it attracts flies. Mrs. Blase comes over and pours some hot water into his cup. She takes a package of Sanka from her apron pocket and puts it in the saucer. MRS. BLASE There. Mrs. Blase looks at the table. MR. BLASE This is itl MRS. BLASE You have to watch your diet. MR. BLASE Diet, if anybody found out I was on the diet they'd laugh me out of town. A diet. MRS. BLASE You know what the doctor said. At your age... MR. BLASE At my agel What the hell do you mean at my age. MRS. BLASE He says you have a bad heart. MR. BLASE Yeah, but it's got nothing to do with my age. It's our son that's ruining my heart, Evelyn. What's he going to do? He wanted a year with those bums so I gave him a year. CONT 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 12 X 10 Cont. MRS. BLASE It hasn't been a year yet. MR. BLASE But, Evelyn. Look whatts happened to him. He's turned into a ity; It was funny at first but it's not funny anymore. Ciao, Papa. Ciao, Mama. Arrivaderchit That's ity talk. MRS. BLASE It's just hero worship. He says the Italians are the best bike racers in'the world and he... MR. BLASE This is America, Evelyn. Only paper boys ride bikes and they earn money doing it. MRS. BLASE Re did win his bicycle and he was quite sickly 'til he started racing around and in three years ._ ne's... MR. BLASE (INTERRUPTS) So now his body's fine but his mind is gone. He used to be a smart kid. I thought he was going to goy to college. MRS. BLASE I thought you didn't want him to go to college. MR. BLASE Why should he go to college? I didn't go to college. When I was nineteen I was working in the quarries ten hours a day. MRS. BLASE But most of the quarries have shut down. MR. BLASE Let him find another job. MRS. BLASE But there aren't any jobs. 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/15/78 13 10 Cont.1 MR. BLASE Let him look at least. Let him come home tired from looking. He's never tired. MRS. BLASE He's young. MR. BLASE When I was young I was tired. I had my own place at seventeen. MRS. BLASE He says Italian families stay together, MR. BLASE BUT WE ARE NOT ITALIANI MRS. BLASE I know. It's just that I come from a big family myself. . .and it really was kind of nice... (smiles, half EMBARRASSED) He thinks we should have another kid. MR. BLASE What?t Dave enters carrying his trophy. DAVE Ah, buon giorno, Papa. MR. BLASE I'm your goddamned father, not papa. DAVE Buon giorno, Mama. MR. BLASE She's your goddamn mother. Whatcha do -- win again? Dave opens the fridge and takes out a hunk of cheese and a hunk of salami and starts eating. Mr. Blase looks at him like a wolf and then he looks at half a grapefruit in front of him. He finds it unbearable to watch him chew. Cont. 567 REVISED - "B.ANBINO" - 8/15/78 14 10 Cont.2 DAVE Yes, the victory ...she was easy. But the promoter...'fondatore' ...He says the Italian team...it will come maybe soon...and I will race with the best...ITALIANO. X Like the nightingale they sing, like the eagles they fly. Mr. Blase can't bear to watch him eat. He's starved. MR. BLASE Speaking of flies...there's a helluva lot of flies following you into the house. DAVE Fly in Italian is 'mosca.' MR. BLASE Well in English it's a pest. And speaking of pests... Mrs. Blase senses an argument. MRS .. BLASE It's a nice trophy isn't it, dear? MR. BLASE Yeah, so what. I've lived fifty years without ever getting a trophy. DAVE You never got trophy, Papa? MR. BLASE No, never, and what's more... Dave interrupts. DAVE Here, Papa. I give you. You are 'Numero Uno.' King Papa. Dave hands him the trophy. Mr. Blase is stunned. He'takes it. Before he can even think to give it back Dave kisses him on both cheeks. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/15/78 MR. BLASE Don't do thatl How many times... DAVE Now I'have to go and take a shower. (starts to leave AND PAUSES) Such a big house and so few people. I wish I had plenty of fratelly and sorelly to greet me when I come home and to wave when I go. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 15 10 Cont.3 Dave leaves. Mrs. Blase sighs. She too would like a big family. Mr. Blase is holding the trophy and looking at it. Neapolitan music is heard coming from Dave's room. Mr. Blase has had it. MR. BLASE There'-s that ity music again. X I'm going to have it out with him now. He goes to Dave's room carrying the trophy with him. Mrs. Blase follows him a few steps and stops. She waits... listening. She is apprehensive. She wants to follow and help Dave out but she stays behind wringing her hands. Mr. Blase reappears looking quite stunned. He's holding the trophy in one hand along his side. MRS. BLASE What's the matter? MR. BLASE HE'S SHAVINGL MRS. BLASE Well, so what? MR. BLASE His legs, Evelyn. He's shaving X his legs. I saw him. His legs. MT. DAVE' S BATHROOM 11 Huamoing along with the record player Dave is shaving away at his overly-lathered legs. OUT 12 CUT TO: INT. DAVE'S ROOM - CLOSEUP - THE STEREO - DAY 13 A record is turning. On top of the dust cover we see an album cover: ENRICO GIMDNDI SINGS NEAPOLITAN FAVORITES. X The CAMERA MOVES SLOWLY AROUND his room. There are bicycle trophies everywhere. Posters of Italian racers. Posters of Italian movies. Magazine covers and newspaper clippings from Italian racing magazines. Bicycle parts: Spare wheels...cranks...pedals. Several bicycle jerseys hanging on the doorknob.. ENRICO GINSONDI sings during.this tour of Dave's room. Dave comes out of the shower humming along. A cat comes to greet him, meowing. DAVE Ah, there you are Fellini... Hungry, eh? Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 16 13 Cont. He goes to a drawer and takes out a can of "Chef Boy-ar-dee" spaghetti and meatballs. Still humming, he opens the can and dumps the food into a deep ashtray with "CINZANO" written on the sides. DAVE Mangiare...mangiare... Be looks at the posters of the bicycle riders. He looks in the mirror. He takes a comb and combs his hair back in the "continental" style. Then he smiles. He picks up a book: "ITALIAN PEASE BOOK" and lies down on the bed to read it. EXT. MR. BLASE'S USED CAR LOT - DAY 14 A big sign: "CAMPUS CARS." The car lot is nowhere near the campus but the sign is considered good business. All around the car lot are other signs: BEST DEAL IN TOWN. CARS WITH A COLLEGE EDUCATION. The cars themselves have signs on them: "GRAD SCHOOL SPECIAL." "ENGLISH MAJOR" PhD" "HOMECOMING QUEEN" "CUM LAUDE" "MAGNA CUM LAUDE." CLOSEUP - MR. BLASE AND CUSTOMER The CUSTOMER is a young college kid. Mr. Blase is showing him the "HOMECOMING QUEEN." MR. BLASE It gets thirty miles to a gallon, X of course the mileage you get may vary. It's a beaut, right? Right. You sure know how to pick them. Frankly this is the best car on the lot. Quality product. DAVE (o.s. ) Ciao, Papal Mr. Blase cringes. Looks up. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE He's on his bike across the street. He's waving. DAVE'S P.O.V. Mr. Blase is looking at his Customer pretending he has no idea who Dave is. He shrugs and turns his back and quickly glances over his shoulder as Dave rides away. 567 17 EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 15 Students are everywhere and so are classroom buildings. Tall, new, limestone structures resembling office buildings. Students sit on the steps outside the buildings. They are lying around on the grass and walking to and from classes. All of them have books in hand. The wind is blowing. CLOSEUP - DAVE He's sitting next to his bike on the grass and looking around at all of them. In his hands he has his Italian Phrase Book: the book being his admission ticket into this world. It's obvious he's feeling a little out of place, but he enjoys looking at the campus world. A campus Police Car drives by and Dave quickly hides his face in the book. Waits for it to pass and when he looks up he is struck by something. MED. SHOT - KATHERINE - DAVE'S P.0.V. She's coming out of a classroom building with a bunch of books and papers in her hands. The wind is blowing her hair back. The CAMERA ZOOMS IN ON her face, isolating her from all the others, just as Dave is doing. CLOSEUP - DAVE His mouth is open. He blinks once. He swallows. DAVE Mama mia I CUT TO: MED. SHOT - KATHERINE As she's walking, she transfers her books from one hand to the other. A piece of paper escapes her and flies away in the wind. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE He sees the paper fly away and jumps up. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE She tries to go after the paper but the traffic keeps her from crossing the street. The paper's flying away. She gives up, and turns toward the parking lot just as we see Dave on his Cont. 567 18 15 Cont. bicycle chasing after the paper. He cuts through the cars, he cuts in front of them. The horns blow. The brakes screech. All Dave sees is the paper. He's on a mission. He cuts through the pedestrians crossing the street maneuvering brilliantly. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - A COLLEGE GUY He's just walking. He sees the piece of paper flying around and grabs it casually. Just as he's ready to read it a hand appears in the FRAME and snatches it away from him. It's Dave, riding away with the piece of paper in his hand. The College Guy just stands and looks after him. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE - ON A MOTOR SCOOTER 16 She's driving home. In her rearview mirror she spots something. A bicycle rider. He seems to be gaining on her. She speeds up almost instinctively. CUT TO: ANGLE ON DAVE - ON THE BIKE He's. got the paper in his mouth and he speeds up too. He shifts his gear. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE She's riding along. She glances in the rearview mirror and sees Dave quite close behind her with the paper in his mouth. She shifts her gears too. She smiles a little. CUT TO: ANGLE ON DAVE He's close enough to shout. He opens his mouth to shout. The paper flies out but he quickly catches it in mid-air. DAVE Signorina... He has momentarily lost ground on her but he sticks the paper in his mouth and pours it on. CUT TO: Cont. 5 67 REVISED - "BAMBINO"_ 8/12/78 19 16 Cont. ANGLE ON KATHERINE She's crossing the street just as the light changes. Dave crosses on the red light. Once again he's nearly hit by several cars. He follows Katherine up the hill leading to Fraternity Row. He overtakes her just as. she's about to turn into the drive leading to her sorority. But Dave is there on her right preventing her-from turning. She too almost hits him. She slams on her brakes. Dave slams on his. They come to a dead stop. DAVE Signorina...You... He's handing her the paper but then he pauses and pulls it back just as she's about to take it. He wipes the saliva off the paper on his jersey, and then gives it to her. DAVE It is yours...no? She takes the paper and smiles. Then she laughs. KATHERINE You mean you've been chasing me with this? Well, that's redly something. Thank you very much. Talk about chivalry. Dave is just looking at her. She's never seen anyone look at her quite like that. She's a bit confused. KATHERINE Well, thanks again. DAVE Is nothing...niente...signorina. KATHERINE What're you...an exchange student or something? - DAVE Si. I am Italian. My name is ENRICO GIMONDI. X KATHERINE And mine is Katherine Maxwell. DAVE Ah, Katherinal Cont. 367 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 20 X 16 Cont.l She likes the sound of this. But the way Dave looks at her is unsettling. KATHERINE Well, thanks again, again. 'BYE DAVE Ciao,. Katherina. Dave'rides away. She looks after him. OUT 17- 19 EXT. MOOCHER'S HOUSE - DAY 20 There's a big CAMPUS REALTY sign outside the house with a FOR-SALE tacked over it. NANCY is walking up to the screen door. She knocks. Moocher appears holding a huge barbell at shoulder height. They smile nervously at each other. MOOCHER NANCYL NANCY I was just on my way to work... Come in. He pushes the door open with one end of the barbell and lets her in checking the street to make sure nobody saw her. She goes in. Moocher shuts the other door too. INT. MOOCHER'S HOUSE - DAY 20-A The two room house is empty except for a sleeping bag and a wooden foot locker -- Moocher resumes working with the barbells. NANCY You know what? MOOCHER No, what? NANCY I'm leaving home that's what. MOOCHER Whatl Where're you going? Cont. 567 AiEVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 w 21 X 20-A Cont. NANCY About five blocks south. I found a nice little house to rent. It's so cute I could scream. My folks said I could have some'of their furniture from the basement. Maybe you could give me a hand...moving. MOOCHER Sure...if...If I'm not busy. You know. How's the Job? NANCY You know what! Frank said if I keep up the good work it'll just be a matter of time before I become a head cashier. I should go now. MOOCHER Maybe...eh...Maybe I'll walk you to work. I have to go that way anyway. She smiles, happy at the prospect of a nice walk together. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 21 Dave and Cyril are going through the outskirts of the campus. Dave is riding his bike slowly. Cyril is jogging along. They go past

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Breaking Away Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "BAMBINO" [ PRODUCED AS "BREAKING AWAY" ] Written by Steve Tesich June 9, 1978 FADE IN EXT. QUARRY OUTSKIRTS - DAY 1 A narrow dirt road totally surrounded by thick vegetation. Here and there we see a huge block of stone blocking the road. The sun is shining but it has a hard time making it through the foliage. In the distance we see four guys walking TOWARD the CAMERA. There is a swagger to their walk. MII is singing. The others are humming along. The melody of the song of "0 Bury Me Not On the Lone Prairie" but it's a loose version. MIME AND WHEN I DIE...WON'T YOU BURY ME ON THE"PARKING LOT OF THE A AND P BLOW OUT THE CANDLES AND BLOW OUT TIE LAMPS AND LIGHT MY PYRE WITH MY TRADING STAMPS I HAD TWO BOOKS BUT I NEEDED THREE R TO DELIVER ME FROM THE A AND P. I HAD THREE BOOKS BUT I NEEDED FOUR TO GO TO HEAVEN AND REDEEM MY SOUL. By this time the four are in front of the CAMERA. Mike is handsome and well built. CYRIL is tall and skinny. MOOCHER is very short. DAVE, hanging back a little, is carrying a large trophy. DAVE Bravo, Mike! Bravo! Bellisimot CYRIL Did you really make all that up? They pass. ANOTHER ANGLE The presence of the quarry is felt much stronger now. More and more blocks of cut stone appear. The guys are dwarfed by them. They have to climb over some. MIKE I sent away for this stuff from Wyoming. It'll tell you everything. Since you don't believe me maybe you'll believe it when you see it. CYRIL And we'd work on the same ranch and sleep in the bunkhouse together, eh? Cont. 567 REVISED '"BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 2 X 1 Cont. MOOCHER That's the whole point. CYRIL I always miss the whole point. MOOCHER It'd be nice to have a paying Job again, that's for sure. DAVE Niente laborare. Niente mangare. MIKE What's that mean? DAVE You don't work. You don't eat. CYRIL That's a terrible thing to say. MED. SHOT The quarries are felt even more now. Walls of stone rise up around the guys. CYRIL Are you really going to shave your legs? DAVE Certo. All the Italians do it. MIKE That's some country. The women don't shave theirs. CYRIL STOP! (pauses as if THUNDERSTRUCK; hand on heart) It was somewhere along here that I lost all interest in life. Ah, right over there. I.saw Dolores Reineke and fat Marvin. Why? Why Dolores? MOOCHER They're married now. Coat. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 3 X 1 Cont.1 MIRE You see what I saved you from, Cyril. Had I not told you about the two of them you never would have followed them out here. CYRIL- Thank you, Mike. You made me lose all interest in life and I'm grateful. MIKE My brother says he saw you and Nancy. Moocher. MOOCHER When? MIKE Last Friday? MOOCHER Wasn't me. I'm not seeing her anymore. ANOTHER ANGLE They are now standing above a huge pool of water with sheer cliffs on three sides. Abandoned derricks loom in the distance. Dave is now humming softly a Neapolitan song. They begin the descent. CYRIL I kind of miss school. You know. This will be the first time nobody's going to ask us to write a theme about how we spent our summer. MIKE Remember the Tomb of the Unknown Substitute Teacher. MOOCHER She believed us too. MIKE (TEACHER'S VOICE) Sex spelled backwards x-es. CYRIL When you're sixteen they call it sweet sixteen. When you're eighteen you get to drink, see dirty movies and vote. But what the hell do you do when you're nineteen. 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 3-A X 1 Cont.2 MIKE You leave home. CYRIL My dad says Jesus never went further than fifty miles from his home. Mike is skipping down the rocks toward the water, taking clothes off as he does. The rest follow. MIKE And look what happened to him. Mike jumps into the water. Moocher and Cyril follow. Dave looks on. FADE THROUGH TO: DAVE'S P.O.V. 1-A The guys are swimming. Dave is holding his trophy casually, enjoying the beautiful day. He pulls out a little Italian Phrase Book. Finds what he wants. DAVE Oggi fa bello,-non e vero? MIKE Sure thing, partner. MOOCHER C'mon in. DAVE I read where this Italian coach said you should never swim after a race. CYRIL Who's swimming? I'm taking a leak. Moocher and Mike splash water at him and swim away. FADE THROUGH TO: 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 4 ROCKS BY THE WATER 1-B All four guys are sunbathing looking at the water. Deep X down, at the bottom of the quarry hole we see an old icebox. Mike is staring at it. The mood is one of total relaxation. MIRE Aren't you glad we got fired from The A and P. Right now we'd be X working. MOOCHER We didn't get fired. You got- fired. We quit. MIKE One for all and all for one. MOOCHER There aren't many places, you know, that'll hire all four of USE CYRIL You know what I'd like to be? MIKE Smart. CYRIL A cartoon of some kind. Man, X that'd be great. Like when they get hit on their head with a frying pan and their head looks like a frying pan-with a handle and everything. And then they go b-r-r-r. (shakes his head) And their head comes back to normal. That'd be great.. MIKE How come you're so stupid, Cyril. CYRIL I don't know. I think I have a dumb heredity. What's your excuse, Mike? Mike hits him hard on the arm. Cyril winces. Mike stands up. He makes sure they're all watching and dives in. The guys talk as they follow his progress. DAVE You hear from your folks, Moocher? 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 5 1-B Coat. MOOCHER .. Yeah, my Dad called. He says there's a lot more jobs in'Chicago. He hasn't got anything yet. Mike has reached the icebox. He opens the door. Goes in. Shuts the door. MOOCHER He wanted to know if the house was sold. They could use the money. DAVE You can come and live with me when it's sold. In Italy everybody lives together. All three of them are getting concerned about Mike. MOOCHER Ever since you won that Italian X bike you've been acting weird. You really think you are Italian. CYRIL I .wouldn't mind thinking I was s omebody myself. All three of them stand up. MOOCHER Maybe the door is stuck. God dammit! Moocher dives in. Dave and Cyril follow. Moocher swims down to the icebox, forces the door open. They surface. As soon as they hit the surface we hear: MIKE o.s.} Yoo--hoo . THE GUYS' P.O.V. They see Mike standing on top of the rock above them. MIKE It's got no back on it! He laughs triumphantly. He's ready to dive in again when he pauses and looks. High above where he stands on the other side of the quarry hole, we see several figures. The guys are swimming toward the rocks and looking at the figures too. 5667 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 6 1-B Cont.l CLOSEUP - MIKE His face has hardened as he looks at the figures. MIKE What the hell are they doing here? X ANOTHER ANGLE Dave, Moocher and Cyril are standing on the rocks below Mike. Mike is still on top of the rock. High above him are the College Kids. Three guys and three girls. One of the guys is standing on the ledge above the water. Our guys are looking at the College Kid on the ledge. He seems intent on diving into the water. It's a distance of at least eighty feet. He pushes off and dives in executing a beautiful somersault into a swan dive. CLOSEUP - OUR GUYS They are stunned. CLOSEUP - MIKE He's obviously envious.. He looks from the diver toward the guys and seems to feel his position undermined. CYRIL I've never seen anyone dive off from there. MIS BASTARDS[ (CLIMBING DOWN THE ROCK) They've got indoor pools and outdoor pools on the campus but they got to come here. (Joins the guys) It's my goddamn quarry. Cyril assumes a very dramatic posture. Sings to the theme from Exodus. CYRIL This hole! This quarry hole is mine! MIKE Hey, screw you, Cyril. Let's get out of here. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6 6. 8 7 EXT. QUARRY - DAY 1-C They are retracing their steps out of the quarry. Mike is leading. -Moocher is behind him. Dave is at the end. He's carrying a huge trophy casually. X MIKE o.s.) If they re going to come here then we'll go on .the campus. MED. SHOT - MIKE'S CAR 1-D A racing bicycle is on top of the car. The guys are in the car and the car is moving fast through the dirt road leading out of the quarries. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 2 Mike is speeding through the town. A huge billboard with the Marlboro Man whizzes past us.. INT. MIKE'S CAR - Mike looks angry. He's got an unlit cigarette in his mouth. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 3 A car lot is on the right. "CAMPUS CARS.", MOOCHER Isn't your dad working today? DAVE (o.s.) No, the doctor told him to take it easy. He's taking Sunday's off. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - CITY HALL - DAY 4 City Hall is on the left. CYRIL (O S ) That's where you go to get a marriage license, Mooch. MOOCHER (o.s.) Yeah, so what? Cyril laughs and then howls as he's hit. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" ; 6/16/78 8 OUT 5 X EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 6 Huge modern structures are looming in the distance in stark contrast to the town we just passed through. Mike's car-is speeding toward them. X EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 7 Mike's car turns into a street called Fraternity Row.- Most of the fraternities and sororities-are located along this stretch. Neat lawns line the area. The houses are enormous: an architectural mixture of old manor house and modern motel. The college kids are outside on the lawns. Some are reading. Girls in bikinis sunbathing. Guys washing their cars. Some other guys passing the football around. Transistor radios playing. Mike drives slowly. INT. MIKE'S CAR All the guys are looking out of the windows as if they were in a museum. Mike looks at the expensive cars along the way. Cyril looks at the Girls in bikinis. Moocher looks at the huge well-built guys. Dave just looks. CYRIL Going to college must do'something 'to girls' tits. Just look at them. Campussies and sororititties. (sticks head out; shouts to a couple of Girls) - Hi, there. What's your major? The Girls look up and kind of sneer. MOOCHER They sure look like they've got it made. MIKE That's because they're rich. DAVE Italians are all poor but they're happy. MIKE Maybe in Italy. Cont. 567 9 7 Cont. CYRIL I wonder what it's like to kiss a coed. I wonder about it a lot. Ahead of Mike's car we see two Guys and two Girls playing Frisbee. They are standing on the lawns and throwing the Frisbee to each other across the street. Mike's car is moving slowly forward when an ill-thrown Frisbee lands on the street. Mike sees it and speeds up. A Girl is running to get it but Mike gets there first and runs over it. Dave gets a quick look at the Girl as she stops"suddenly to keep from getting hit. The two college Guys run out and give' Mike the finger. He sees them in the rearview mirror. MIKE Hey, those bastards are giving us the finger. He slams on the brakes. MOOCHER Hey, c'mon, Mike. We're on their turf. Dave is looking back at the Girl. The two Guys are challenging Mike, motioning to him to come back. The two Girls are trying to talk them out of it. Mike-is gunning the car. MIKE They think they own the place. MOOCHER They do. CYRIL Besides, you've humiliated them enough. In ancient Japan when you ran over a samurai's Frisbee he had to commit suicide. Just as he laughs Mike shifts the car in reverse. The two Guys and Girls are standing in the middle of the road. The Guys are coming forward thinking Mike's going to stop, but Mike has no intention of stopping. The Girls and the Guys split as Mike's car roars between them. Once again Dave catches a fleeting glimpse of the Girl. Having scattered them, Mike makes a U-turn and drives away in the direction he came from. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" 8/12/78 10 7 Cont.1 CLOSEUP - THE COLLEGE KIDS The girl Dave saw, KATHERINE, is looking after the car holding a cracked Frisbee in her hand. The tall well-built guy next to her, ROD, her boyfriend, looks real upset. He is wearing a Little 500 T-shirt. ROD Dumbass cutters. Goddamn redneck retards. OUT 8 CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE 9 riding. A Neapolitan melody plays as Dave rides holding his trophy:. a romantic song of the south and not southern Indiana. The small houses could be Italian houses to Dave. The people sitting on porches and steps could be Italians. Dave waves like a returning hero. DAVE Buon giornol Buon giornol (SPOTS SOME SMALL CHILDREN) Hey, bambino. The people and the kids look at him like he's an oddball, but Dave does not notice. A woman is shaking a rug ahead of him, and she looks so Italian that he can't help but smile. A big blonde GIRL is coming out of the house dressed in a waitress outfit. She sees Dave. G= Dave...is Moocher home? But Dave just rides past her in a daydream. CLOSEUP - A COUPLE ON A PORCH They're older PEOPLE. The Man is drinking a beer. WOMAN Tsk. Tsk. He was as normal as pumpkin pie and'now look x at him. The Man lets out a long beer belch. WOMAN His poor parents. 5 67 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 11 _ X l f T. BLASE HOUSE - DAY 10 MR. BLASE is sitting at a kitchen table. MRS. BLASE is boiling water. Mr. Blase does not look happy. He's got a flyswatter in his hand. He sees a fly. Whack. He hits it. He misses. MR. BLASE It's that cologne he wears. MRS. BLASE Neapolitan Sunset, it's called. MR. BLASE Well, it smells like fruit punch to me and it attracts flies. Mrs. Blase comes over and pours some hot water into his cup. She takes a package of Sanka from her apron pocket and puts it in the saucer. MRS. BLASE There. Mrs. Blase looks at the table. MR. BLASE This is itl MRS. BLASE You have to watch your diet. MR. BLASE Diet, if anybody found out I was on the diet they'd laugh me out of town. A diet. MRS. BLASE You know what the doctor said. At your age... MR. BLASE At my agel What the hell do you mean at my age. MRS. BLASE He says you have a bad heart. MR. BLASE Yeah, but it's got nothing to do with my age. It's our son that's ruining my heart, Evelyn. What's he going to do? He wanted a year with those bums so I gave him a year. CONT 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 12 X 10 Cont. MRS. BLASE It hasn't been a year yet. MR. BLASE But, Evelyn. Look whatts happened to him. He's turned into a ity; It was funny at first but it's not funny anymore. Ciao, Papa. Ciao, Mama. Arrivaderchit That's ity talk. MRS. BLASE It's just hero worship. He says the Italians are the best bike racers in'the world and he... MR. BLASE This is America, Evelyn. Only paper boys ride bikes and they earn money doing it. MRS. BLASE Re did win his bicycle and he was quite sickly 'til he started racing around and in three years ._ ne's... MR. BLASE (INTERRUPTS) So now his body's fine but his mind is gone. He used to be a smart kid. I thought he was going to goy to college. MRS. BLASE I thought you didn't want him to go to college. MR. BLASE Why should he go to college? I didn't go to college. When I was nineteen I was working in the quarries ten hours a day. MRS. BLASE But most of the quarries have shut down. MR. BLASE Let him find another job. MRS. BLASE But there aren't any jobs. 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/15/78 13 10 Cont.1 MR. BLASE Let him look at least. Let him come home tired from looking. He's never tired. MRS. BLASE He's young. MR. BLASE When I was young I was tired. I had my own place at seventeen. MRS. BLASE He says Italian families stay together, MR. BLASE BUT WE ARE NOT ITALIANI MRS. BLASE I know. It's just that I come from a big family myself. . .and it really was kind of nice... (smiles, half EMBARRASSED) He thinks we should have another kid. MR. BLASE What?t Dave enters carrying his trophy. DAVE Ah, buon giorno, Papa. MR. BLASE I'm your goddamned father, not papa. DAVE Buon giorno, Mama. MR. BLASE She's your goddamn mother. Whatcha do -- win again? Dave opens the fridge and takes out a hunk of cheese and a hunk of salami and starts eating. Mr. Blase looks at him like a wolf and then he looks at half a grapefruit in front of him. He finds it unbearable to watch him chew. Cont. 567 REVISED - "B.ANBINO" - 8/15/78 14 10 Cont.2 DAVE Yes, the victory ...she was easy. But the promoter...'fondatore' ...He says the Italian team...it will come maybe soon...and I will race with the best...ITALIANO. X Like the nightingale they sing, like the eagles they fly. Mr. Blase can't bear to watch him eat. He's starved. MR. BLASE Speaking of flies...there's a helluva lot of flies following you into the house. DAVE Fly in Italian is 'mosca.' MR. BLASE Well in English it's a pest. And speaking of pests... Mrs. Blase senses an argument. MRS .. BLASE It's a nice trophy isn't it, dear? MR. BLASE Yeah, so what. I've lived fifty years without ever getting a trophy. DAVE You never got trophy, Papa? MR. BLASE No, never, and what's more... Dave interrupts. DAVE Here, Papa. I give you. You are 'Numero Uno.' King Papa. Dave hands him the trophy. Mr. Blase is stunned. He'takes it. Before he can even think to give it back Dave kisses him on both cheeks. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/15/78 MR. BLASE Don't do thatl How many times... DAVE Now I'have to go and take a shower. (starts to leave AND PAUSES) Such a big house and so few people. I wish I had plenty of fratelly and sorelly to greet me when I come home and to wave when I go. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 15 10 Cont.3 Dave leaves. Mrs. Blase sighs. She too would like a big family. Mr. Blase is holding the trophy and looking at it. Neapolitan music is heard coming from Dave's room. Mr. Blase has had it. MR. BLASE There'-s that ity music again. X I'm going to have it out with him now. He goes to Dave's room carrying the trophy with him. Mrs. Blase follows him a few steps and stops. She waits... listening. She is apprehensive. She wants to follow and help Dave out but she stays behind wringing her hands. Mr. Blase reappears looking quite stunned. He's holding the trophy in one hand along his side. MRS. BLASE What's the matter? MR. BLASE HE'S SHAVINGL MRS. BLASE Well, so what? MR. BLASE His legs, Evelyn. He's shaving X his legs. I saw him. His legs. MT. DAVE' S BATHROOM 11 Huamoing along with the record player Dave is shaving away at his overly-lathered legs. OUT 12 CUT TO: INT. DAVE'S ROOM - CLOSEUP - THE STEREO - DAY 13 A record is turning. On top of the dust cover we see an album cover: ENRICO GIMDNDI SINGS NEAPOLITAN FAVORITES. X The CAMERA MOVES SLOWLY AROUND his room. There are bicycle trophies everywhere. Posters of Italian racers. Posters of Italian movies. Magazine covers and newspaper clippings from Italian racing magazines. Bicycle parts: Spare wheels...cranks...pedals. Several bicycle jerseys hanging on the doorknob.. ENRICO GINSONDI sings during.this tour of Dave's room. Dave comes out of the shower humming along. A cat comes to greet him, meowing. DAVE Ah, there you are Fellini... Hungry, eh? Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 16 13 Cont. He goes to a drawer and takes out a can of "Chef Boy-ar-dee" spaghetti and meatballs. Still humming, he opens the can and dumps the food into a deep ashtray with "CINZANO" written on the sides. DAVE Mangiare...mangiare... Be looks at the posters of the bicycle riders. He looks in the mirror. He takes a comb and combs his hair back in the "continental" style. Then he smiles. He picks up a book: "ITALIAN PEASE BOOK" and lies down on the bed to read it. EXT. MR. BLASE'S USED CAR LOT - DAY 14 A big sign: "CAMPUS CARS." The car lot is nowhere near the campus but the sign is considered good business. All around the car lot are other signs: BEST DEAL IN TOWN. CARS WITH A COLLEGE EDUCATION. The cars themselves have signs on them: "GRAD SCHOOL SPECIAL." "ENGLISH MAJOR" PhD" "HOMECOMING QUEEN" "CUM LAUDE" "MAGNA CUM LAUDE." CLOSEUP - MR. BLASE AND CUSTOMER The CUSTOMER is a young college kid. Mr. Blase is showing him the "HOMECOMING QUEEN." MR. BLASE It gets thirty miles to a gallon, X of course the mileage you get may vary. It's a beaut, right? Right. You sure know how to pick them. Frankly this is the best car on the lot. Quality product. DAVE (o.s. ) Ciao, Papal Mr. Blase cringes. Looks up. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE He's on his bike across the street. He's waving. DAVE'S P.O.V. Mr. Blase is looking at his Customer pretending he has no idea who Dave is. He shrugs and turns his back and quickly glances over his shoulder as Dave rides away. 567 17 EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 15 Students are everywhere and so are classroom buildings. Tall, new, limestone structures resembling office buildings. Students sit on the steps outside the buildings. They are lying around on the grass and walking to and from classes. All of them have books in hand. The wind is blowing. CLOSEUP - DAVE He's sitting next to his bike on the grass and looking around at all of them. In his hands he has his Italian Phrase Book: the book being his admission ticket into this world. It's obvious he's feeling a little out of place, but he enjoys looking at the campus world. A campus Police Car drives by and Dave quickly hides his face in the book. Waits for it to pass and when he looks up he is struck by something. MED. SHOT - KATHERINE - DAVE'S P.0.V. She's coming out of a classroom building with a bunch of books and papers in her hands. The wind is blowing her hair back. The CAMERA ZOOMS IN ON her face, isolating her from all the others, just as Dave is doing. CLOSEUP - DAVE His mouth is open. He blinks once. He swallows. DAVE Mama mia I CUT TO: MED. SHOT - KATHERINE As she's walking, she transfers her books from one hand to the other. A piece of paper escapes her and flies away in the wind. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE He sees the paper fly away and jumps up. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE She tries to go after the paper but the traffic keeps her from crossing the street. The paper's flying away. She gives up, and turns toward the parking lot just as we see Dave on his Cont. 567 18 15 Cont. bicycle chasing after the paper. He cuts through the cars, he cuts in front of them. The horns blow. The brakes screech. All Dave sees is the paper. He's on a mission. He cuts through the pedestrians crossing the street maneuvering brilliantly. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - A COLLEGE GUY He's just walking. He sees the piece of paper flying around and grabs it casually. Just as he's ready to read it a hand appears in the FRAME and snatches it away from him. It's Dave, riding away with the piece of paper in his hand. The College Guy just stands and looks after him. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE - ON A MOTOR SCOOTER 16 She's driving home. In her rearview mirror she spots something. A bicycle rider. He seems to be gaining on her. She speeds up almost instinctively. CUT TO: ANGLE ON DAVE - ON THE BIKE He's. got the paper in his mouth and he speeds up too. He shifts his gear. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE She's riding along. She glances in the rearview mirror and sees Dave quite close behind her with the paper in his mouth. She shifts her gears too. She smiles a little. CUT TO: ANGLE ON DAVE He's close enough to shout. He opens his mouth to shout. The paper flies out but he quickly catches it in mid-air. DAVE Signorina... He has momentarily lost ground on her but he sticks the paper in his mouth and pours it on. CUT TO: Cont. 5 67 REVISED - "BAMBINO"_ 8/12/78 19 16 Cont. ANGLE ON KATHERINE She's crossing the street just as the light changes. Dave crosses on the red light. Once again he's nearly hit by several cars. He follows Katherine up the hill leading to Fraternity Row. He overtakes her just as. she's about to turn into the drive leading to her sorority. But Dave is there on her right preventing her-from turning. She too almost hits him. She slams on her brakes. Dave slams on his. They come to a dead stop. DAVE Signorina...You... He's handing her the paper but then he pauses and pulls it back just as she's about to take it. He wipes the saliva off the paper on his jersey, and then gives it to her. DAVE It is yours...no? She takes the paper and smiles. Then she laughs. KATHERINE You mean you've been chasing me with this? Well, that's redly something. Thank you very much. Talk about chivalry. Dave is just looking at her. She's never seen anyone look at her quite like that. She's a bit confused. KATHERINE Well, thanks again. DAVE Is nothing...niente...signorina. KATHERINE What're you...an exchange student or something? - DAVE Si. I am Italian. My name is ENRICO GIMONDI. X KATHERINE And mine is Katherine Maxwell. DAVE Ah, Katherinal Cont. 367 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 20 X 16 Cont.l She likes the sound of this. But the way Dave looks at her is unsettling. KATHERINE Well, thanks again, again. 'BYE DAVE Ciao,. Katherina. Dave'rides away. She looks after him. OUT 17- 19 EXT. MOOCHER'S HOUSE - DAY 20 There's a big CAMPUS REALTY sign outside the house with a FOR-SALE tacked over it. NANCY is walking up to the screen door. She knocks. Moocher appears holding a huge barbell at shoulder height. They smile nervously at each other. MOOCHER NANCYL NANCY I was just on my way to work... Come in. He pushes the door open with one end of the barbell and lets her in checking the street to make sure nobody saw her. She goes in. Moocher shuts the other door too. INT. MOOCHER'S HOUSE - DAY 20-A The two room house is empty except for a sleeping bag and a wooden foot locker -- Moocher resumes working with the barbells. NANCY You know what? MOOCHER No, what? NANCY I'm leaving home that's what. MOOCHER Whatl Where're you going? Cont. 567 AiEVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 w 21 X 20-A Cont. NANCY About five blocks south. I found a nice little house to rent. It's so cute I could scream. My folks said I could have some'of their furniture from the basement. Maybe you could give me a hand...moving. MOOCHER Sure...if...If I'm not busy. You know. How's the Job? NANCY You know what! Frank said if I keep up the good work it'll just be a matter of time before I become a head cashier. I should go now. MOOCHER Maybe...eh...Maybe I'll walk you to work. I have to go that way anyway. She smiles, happy at the prospect of a nice walk together. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 21 Dave and Cyril are going through the outskirts of the campus. Dave is riding his bike slowly. Cyril is jogging along. They go past

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Breaking Away Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "BAMBINO" [ PRODUCED AS "BREAKING AWAY" ] Written by Steve Tesich June 9, 1978 FADE IN EXT. QUARRY OUTSKIRTS - DAY 1 A narrow dirt road totally surrounded by thick vegetation. Here and there we see a huge block of stone blocking the road. The sun is shining but it has a hard time making it through the foliage. In the distance we see four guys walking TOWARD the CAMERA. There is a swagger to their walk. MII is singing. The others are humming along. The melody of the song of "0 Bury Me Not On the Lone Prairie" but it's a loose version. MIME AND WHEN I DIE...WON'T YOU BURY ME ON THE"PARKING LOT OF THE A AND P BLOW OUT THE CANDLES AND BLOW OUT TIE LAMPS AND LIGHT MY PYRE WITH MY TRADING STAMPS I HAD TWO BOOKS BUT I NEEDED THREE R TO DELIVER ME FROM THE A AND P. I HAD THREE BOOKS BUT I NEEDED FOUR TO GO TO HEAVEN AND REDEEM MY SOUL. By this time the four are in front of the CAMERA. Mike is handsome and well built. CYRIL is tall and skinny. MOOCHER is very short. DAVE, hanging back a little, is carrying a large trophy. DAVE Bravo, Mike! Bravo! Bellisimot CYRIL Did you really make all that up? They pass. ANOTHER ANGLE The presence of the quarry is felt much stronger now. More and more blocks of cut stone appear. The guys are dwarfed by them. They have to climb over some. MIKE I sent away for this stuff from Wyoming. It'll tell you everything. Since you don't believe me maybe you'll believe it when you see it. CYRIL And we'd work on the same ranch and sleep in the bunkhouse together, eh? Cont. 567 REVISED '"BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 2 X 1 Cont. MOOCHER That's the whole point. CYRIL I always miss the whole point. MOOCHER It'd be nice to have a paying Job again, that's for sure. DAVE Niente laborare. Niente mangare. MIKE What's that mean? DAVE You don't work. You don't eat. CYRIL That's a terrible thing to say. MED. SHOT The quarries are felt even more now. Walls of stone rise up around the guys. CYRIL Are you really going to shave your legs? DAVE Certo. All the Italians do it. MIKE That's some country. The women don't shave theirs. CYRIL STOP! (pauses as if THUNDERSTRUCK; hand on heart) It was somewhere along here that I lost all interest in life. Ah, right over there. I.saw Dolores Reineke and fat Marvin. Why? Why Dolores? MOOCHER They're married now. Coat. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 3 X 1 Cont.1 MIRE You see what I saved you from, Cyril. Had I not told you about the two of them you never would have followed them out here. CYRIL- Thank you, Mike. You made me lose all interest in life and I'm grateful. MIKE My brother says he saw you and Nancy. Moocher. MOOCHER When? MIKE Last Friday? MOOCHER Wasn't me. I'm not seeing her anymore. ANOTHER ANGLE They are now standing above a huge pool of water with sheer cliffs on three sides. Abandoned derricks loom in the distance. Dave is now humming softly a Neapolitan song. They begin the descent. CYRIL I kind of miss school. You know. This will be the first time nobody's going to ask us to write a theme about how we spent our summer. MIKE Remember the Tomb of the Unknown Substitute Teacher. MOOCHER She believed us too. MIKE (TEACHER'S VOICE) Sex spelled backwards x-es. CYRIL When you're sixteen they call it sweet sixteen. When you're eighteen you get to drink, see dirty movies and vote. But what the hell do you do when you're nineteen. 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 3-A X 1 Cont.2 MIKE You leave home. CYRIL My dad says Jesus never went further than fifty miles from his home. Mike is skipping down the rocks toward the water, taking clothes off as he does. The rest follow. MIKE And look what happened to him. Mike jumps into the water. Moocher and Cyril follow. Dave looks on. FADE THROUGH TO: DAVE'S P.O.V. 1-A The guys are swimming. Dave is holding his trophy casually, enjoying the beautiful day. He pulls out a little Italian Phrase Book. Finds what he wants. DAVE Oggi fa bello,-non e vero? MIKE Sure thing, partner. MOOCHER C'mon in. DAVE I read where this Italian coach said you should never swim after a race. CYRIL Who's swimming? I'm taking a leak. Moocher and Mike splash water at him and swim away. FADE THROUGH TO: 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 4 ROCKS BY THE WATER 1-B All four guys are sunbathing looking at the water. Deep X down, at the bottom of the quarry hole we see an old icebox. Mike is staring at it. The mood is one of total relaxation. MIRE Aren't you glad we got fired from The A and P. Right now we'd be X working. MOOCHER We didn't get fired. You got- fired. We quit. MIKE One for all and all for one. MOOCHER There aren't many places, you know, that'll hire all four of USE CYRIL You know what I'd like to be? MIKE Smart. CYRIL A cartoon of some kind. Man, X that'd be great. Like when they get hit on their head with a frying pan and their head looks like a frying pan-with a handle and everything. And then they go b-r-r-r. (shakes his head) And their head comes back to normal. That'd be great.. MIKE How come you're so stupid, Cyril. CYRIL I don't know. I think I have a dumb heredity. What's your excuse, Mike? Mike hits him hard on the arm. Cyril winces. Mike stands up. He makes sure they're all watching and dives in. The guys talk as they follow his progress. DAVE You hear from your folks, Moocher? 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 5 1-B Coat. MOOCHER .. Yeah, my Dad called. He says there's a lot more jobs in'Chicago. He hasn't got anything yet. Mike has reached the icebox. He opens the door. Goes in. Shuts the door. MOOCHER He wanted to know if the house was sold. They could use the money. DAVE You can come and live with me when it's sold. In Italy everybody lives together. All three of them are getting concerned about Mike. MOOCHER Ever since you won that Italian X bike you've been acting weird. You really think you are Italian. CYRIL I .wouldn't mind thinking I was s omebody myself. All three of them stand up. MOOCHER Maybe the door is stuck. God dammit! Moocher dives in. Dave and Cyril follow. Moocher swims down to the icebox, forces the door open. They surface. As soon as they hit the surface we hear: MIKE o.s.} Yoo--hoo . THE GUYS' P.O.V. They see Mike standing on top of the rock above them. MIKE It's got no back on it! He laughs triumphantly. He's ready to dive in again when he pauses and looks. High above where he stands on the other side of the quarry hole, we see several figures. The guys are swimming toward the rocks and looking at the figures too. 5667 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 6 1-B Cont.l CLOSEUP - MIKE His face has hardened as he looks at the figures. MIKE What the hell are they doing here? X ANOTHER ANGLE Dave, Moocher and Cyril are standing on the rocks below Mike. Mike is still on top of the rock. High above him are the College Kids. Three guys and three girls. One of the guys is standing on the ledge above the water. Our guys are looking at the College Kid on the ledge. He seems intent on diving into the water. It's a distance of at least eighty feet. He pushes off and dives in executing a beautiful somersault into a swan dive. CLOSEUP - OUR GUYS They are stunned. CLOSEUP - MIKE He's obviously envious.. He looks from the diver toward the guys and seems to feel his position undermined. CYRIL I've never seen anyone dive off from there. MIS BASTARDS[ (CLIMBING DOWN THE ROCK) They've got indoor pools and outdoor pools on the campus but they got to come here. (Joins the guys) It's my goddamn quarry. Cyril assumes a very dramatic posture. Sings to the theme from Exodus. CYRIL This hole! This quarry hole is mine! MIKE Hey, screw you, Cyril. Let's get out of here. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6 6. 8 7 EXT. QUARRY - DAY 1-C They are retracing their steps out of the quarry. Mike is leading. -Moocher is behind him. Dave is at the end. He's carrying a huge trophy casually. X MIKE o.s.) If they re going to come here then we'll go on .the campus. MED. SHOT - MIKE'S CAR 1-D A racing bicycle is on top of the car. The guys are in the car and the car is moving fast through the dirt road leading out of the quarries. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 2 Mike is speeding through the town. A huge billboard with the Marlboro Man whizzes past us.. INT. MIKE'S CAR - Mike looks angry. He's got an unlit cigarette in his mouth. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 3 A car lot is on the right. "CAMPUS CARS.", MOOCHER Isn't your dad working today? DAVE (o.s.) No, the doctor told him to take it easy. He's taking Sunday's off. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - CITY HALL - DAY 4 City Hall is on the left. CYRIL (O S ) That's where you go to get a marriage license, Mooch. MOOCHER (o.s.) Yeah, so what? Cyril laughs and then howls as he's hit. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" ; 6/16/78 8 OUT 5 X EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 6 Huge modern structures are looming in the distance in stark contrast to the town we just passed through. Mike's car-is speeding toward them. X EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 7 Mike's car turns into a street called Fraternity Row.- Most of the fraternities and sororities-are located along this stretch. Neat lawns line the area. The houses are enormous: an architectural mixture of old manor house and modern motel. The college kids are outside on the lawns. Some are reading. Girls in bikinis sunbathing. Guys washing their cars. Some other guys passing the football around. Transistor radios playing. Mike drives slowly. INT. MIKE'S CAR All the guys are looking out of the windows as if they were in a museum. Mike looks at the expensive cars along the way. Cyril looks at the Girls in bikinis. Moocher looks at the huge well-built guys. Dave just looks. CYRIL Going to college must do'something 'to girls' tits. Just look at them. Campussies and sororititties. (sticks head out; shouts to a couple of Girls) - Hi, there. What's your major? The Girls look up and kind of sneer. MOOCHER They sure look like they've got it made. MIKE That's because they're rich. DAVE Italians are all poor but they're happy. MIKE Maybe in Italy. Cont. 567 9 7 Cont. CYRIL I wonder what it's like to kiss a coed. I wonder about it a lot. Ahead of Mike's car we see two Guys and two Girls playing Frisbee. They are standing on the lawns and throwing the Frisbee to each other across the street. Mike's car is moving slowly forward when an ill-thrown Frisbee lands on the street. Mike sees it and speeds up. A Girl is running to get it but Mike gets there first and runs over it. Dave gets a quick look at the Girl as she stops"suddenly to keep from getting hit. The two college Guys run out and give' Mike the finger. He sees them in the rearview mirror. MIKE Hey, those bastards are giving us the finger. He slams on the brakes. MOOCHER Hey, c'mon, Mike. We're on their turf. Dave is looking back at the Girl. The two Guys are challenging Mike, motioning to him to come back. The two Girls are trying to talk them out of it. Mike-is gunning the car. MIKE They think they own the place. MOOCHER They do. CYRIL Besides, you've humiliated them enough. In ancient Japan when you ran over a samurai's Frisbee he had to commit suicide. Just as he laughs Mike shifts the car in reverse. The two Guys and Girls are standing in the middle of the road. The Guys are coming forward thinking Mike's going to stop, but Mike has no intention of stopping. The Girls and the Guys split as Mike's car roars between them. Once again Dave catches a fleeting glimpse of the Girl. Having scattered them, Mike makes a U-turn and drives away in the direction he came from. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" 8/12/78 10 7 Cont.1 CLOSEUP - THE COLLEGE KIDS The girl Dave saw, KATHERINE, is looking after the car holding a cracked Frisbee in her hand. The tall well-built guy next to her, ROD, her boyfriend, looks real upset. He is wearing a Little 500 T-shirt. ROD Dumbass cutters. Goddamn redneck retards. OUT 8 CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE 9 riding. A Neapolitan melody plays as Dave rides holding his trophy:. a romantic song of the south and not southern Indiana. The small houses could be Italian houses to Dave. The people sitting on porches and steps could be Italians. Dave waves like a returning hero. DAVE Buon giornol Buon giornol (SPOTS SOME SMALL CHILDREN) Hey, bambino. The people and the kids look at him like he's an oddball, but Dave does not notice. A woman is shaking a rug ahead of him, and she looks so Italian that he can't help but smile. A big blonde GIRL is coming out of the house dressed in a waitress outfit. She sees Dave. G= Dave...is Moocher home? But Dave just rides past her in a daydream. CLOSEUP - A COUPLE ON A PORCH They're older PEOPLE. The Man is drinking a beer. WOMAN Tsk. Tsk. He was as normal as pumpkin pie and'now look x at him. The Man lets out a long beer belch. WOMAN His poor parents. 5 67 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 11 _ X l f T. BLASE HOUSE - DAY 10 MR. BLASE is sitting at a kitchen table. MRS. BLASE is boiling water. Mr. Blase does not look happy. He's got a flyswatter in his hand. He sees a fly. Whack. He hits it. He misses. MR. BLASE It's that cologne he wears. MRS. BLASE Neapolitan Sunset, it's called. MR. BLASE Well, it smells like fruit punch to me and it attracts flies. Mrs. Blase comes over and pours some hot water into his cup. She takes a package of Sanka from her apron pocket and puts it in the saucer. MRS. BLASE There. Mrs. Blase looks at the table. MR. BLASE This is itl MRS. BLASE You have to watch your diet. MR. BLASE Diet, if anybody found out I was on the diet they'd laugh me out of town. A diet. MRS. BLASE You know what the doctor said. At your age... MR. BLASE At my agel What the hell do you mean at my age. MRS. BLASE He says you have a bad heart. MR. BLASE Yeah, but it's got nothing to do with my age. It's our son that's ruining my heart, Evelyn. What's he going to do? He wanted a year with those bums so I gave him a year. CONT 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 12 X 10 Cont. MRS. BLASE It hasn't been a year yet. MR. BLASE But, Evelyn. Look whatts happened to him. He's turned into a ity; It was funny at first but it's not funny anymore. Ciao, Papa. Ciao, Mama. Arrivaderchit That's ity talk. MRS. BLASE It's just hero worship. He says the Italians are the best bike racers in'the world and he... MR. BLASE This is America, Evelyn. Only paper boys ride bikes and they earn money doing it. MRS. BLASE Re did win his bicycle and he was quite sickly 'til he started racing around and in three years ._ ne's... MR. BLASE (INTERRUPTS) So now his body's fine but his mind is gone. He used to be a smart kid. I thought he was going to goy to college. MRS. BLASE I thought you didn't want him to go to college. MR. BLASE Why should he go to college? I didn't go to college. When I was nineteen I was working in the quarries ten hours a day. MRS. BLASE But most of the quarries have shut down. MR. BLASE Let him find another job. MRS. BLASE But there aren't any jobs. 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/15/78 13 10 Cont.1 MR. BLASE Let him look at least. Let him come home tired from looking. He's never tired. MRS. BLASE He's young. MR. BLASE When I was young I was tired. I had my own place at seventeen. MRS. BLASE He says Italian families stay together, MR. BLASE BUT WE ARE NOT ITALIANI MRS. BLASE I know. It's just that I come from a big family myself. . .and it really was kind of nice... (smiles, half EMBARRASSED) He thinks we should have another kid. MR. BLASE What?t Dave enters carrying his trophy. DAVE Ah, buon giorno, Papa. MR. BLASE I'm your goddamned father, not papa. DAVE Buon giorno, Mama. MR. BLASE She's your goddamn mother. Whatcha do -- win again? Dave opens the fridge and takes out a hunk of cheese and a hunk of salami and starts eating. Mr. Blase looks at him like a wolf and then he looks at half a grapefruit in front of him. He finds it unbearable to watch him chew. Cont. 567 REVISED - "B.ANBINO" - 8/15/78 14 10 Cont.2 DAVE Yes, the victory ...she was easy. But the promoter...'fondatore' ...He says the Italian team...it will come maybe soon...and I will race with the best...ITALIANO. X Like the nightingale they sing, like the eagles they fly. Mr. Blase can't bear to watch him eat. He's starved. MR. BLASE Speaking of flies...there's a helluva lot of flies following you into the house. DAVE Fly in Italian is 'mosca.' MR. BLASE Well in English it's a pest. And speaking of pests... Mrs. Blase senses an argument. MRS .. BLASE It's a nice trophy isn't it, dear? MR. BLASE Yeah, so what. I've lived fifty years without ever getting a trophy. DAVE You never got trophy, Papa? MR. BLASE No, never, and what's more... Dave interrupts. DAVE Here, Papa. I give you. You are 'Numero Uno.' King Papa. Dave hands him the trophy. Mr. Blase is stunned. He'takes it. Before he can even think to give it back Dave kisses him on both cheeks. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/15/78 MR. BLASE Don't do thatl How many times... DAVE Now I'have to go and take a shower. (starts to leave AND PAUSES) Such a big house and so few people. I wish I had plenty of fratelly and sorelly to greet me when I come home and to wave when I go. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 15 10 Cont.3 Dave leaves. Mrs. Blase sighs. She too would like a big family. Mr. Blase is holding the trophy and looking at it. Neapolitan music is heard coming from Dave's room. Mr. Blase has had it. MR. BLASE There'-s that ity music again. X I'm going to have it out with him now. He goes to Dave's room carrying the trophy with him. Mrs. Blase follows him a few steps and stops. She waits... listening. She is apprehensive. She wants to follow and help Dave out but she stays behind wringing her hands. Mr. Blase reappears looking quite stunned. He's holding the trophy in one hand along his side. MRS. BLASE What's the matter? MR. BLASE HE'S SHAVINGL MRS. BLASE Well, so what? MR. BLASE His legs, Evelyn. He's shaving X his legs. I saw him. His legs. MT. DAVE' S BATHROOM 11 Huamoing along with the record player Dave is shaving away at his overly-lathered legs. OUT 12 CUT TO: INT. DAVE'S ROOM - CLOSEUP - THE STEREO - DAY 13 A record is turning. On top of the dust cover we see an album cover: ENRICO GIMDNDI SINGS NEAPOLITAN FAVORITES. X The CAMERA MOVES SLOWLY AROUND his room. There are bicycle trophies everywhere. Posters of Italian racers. Posters of Italian movies. Magazine covers and newspaper clippings from Italian racing magazines. Bicycle parts: Spare wheels...cranks...pedals. Several bicycle jerseys hanging on the doorknob.. ENRICO GINSONDI sings during.this tour of Dave's room. Dave comes out of the shower humming along. A cat comes to greet him, meowing. DAVE Ah, there you are Fellini... Hungry, eh? Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 16 13 Cont. He goes to a drawer and takes out a can of "Chef Boy-ar-dee" spaghetti and meatballs. Still humming, he opens the can and dumps the food into a deep ashtray with "CINZANO" written on the sides. DAVE Mangiare...mangiare... Be looks at the posters of the bicycle riders. He looks in the mirror. He takes a comb and combs his hair back in the "continental" style. Then he smiles. He picks up a book: "ITALIAN PEASE BOOK" and lies down on the bed to read it. EXT. MR. BLASE'S USED CAR LOT - DAY 14 A big sign: "CAMPUS CARS." The car lot is nowhere near the campus but the sign is considered good business. All around the car lot are other signs: BEST DEAL IN TOWN. CARS WITH A COLLEGE EDUCATION. The cars themselves have signs on them: "GRAD SCHOOL SPECIAL." "ENGLISH MAJOR" PhD" "HOMECOMING QUEEN" "CUM LAUDE" "MAGNA CUM LAUDE." CLOSEUP - MR. BLASE AND CUSTOMER The CUSTOMER is a young college kid. Mr. Blase is showing him the "HOMECOMING QUEEN." MR. BLASE It gets thirty miles to a gallon, X of course the mileage you get may vary. It's a beaut, right? Right. You sure know how to pick them. Frankly this is the best car on the lot. Quality product. DAVE (o.s. ) Ciao, Papal Mr. Blase cringes. Looks up. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE He's on his bike across the street. He's waving. DAVE'S P.O.V. Mr. Blase is looking at his Customer pretending he has no idea who Dave is. He shrugs and turns his back and quickly glances over his shoulder as Dave rides away. 567 17 EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 15 Students are everywhere and so are classroom buildings. Tall, new, limestone structures resembling office buildings. Students sit on the steps outside the buildings. They are lying around on the grass and walking to and from classes. All of them have books in hand. The wind is blowing. CLOSEUP - DAVE He's sitting next to his bike on the grass and looking around at all of them. In his hands he has his Italian Phrase Book: the book being his admission ticket into this world. It's obvious he's feeling a little out of place, but he enjoys looking at the campus world. A campus Police Car drives by and Dave quickly hides his face in the book. Waits for it to pass and when he looks up he is struck by something. MED. SHOT - KATHERINE - DAVE'S P.0.V. She's coming out of a classroom building with a bunch of books and papers in her hands. The wind is blowing her hair back. The CAMERA ZOOMS IN ON her face, isolating her from all the others, just as Dave is doing. CLOSEUP - DAVE His mouth is open. He blinks once. He swallows. DAVE Mama mia I CUT TO: MED. SHOT - KATHERINE As she's walking, she transfers her books from one hand to the other. A piece of paper escapes her and flies away in the wind. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE He sees the paper fly away and jumps up. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE She tries to go after the paper but the traffic keeps her from crossing the street. The paper's flying away. She gives up, and turns toward the parking lot just as we see Dave on his Cont. 567 18 15 Cont. bicycle chasing after the paper. He cuts through the cars, he cuts in front of them. The horns blow. The brakes screech. All Dave sees is the paper. He's on a mission. He cuts through the pedestrians crossing the street maneuvering brilliantly. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - A COLLEGE GUY He's just walking. He sees the piece of paper flying around and grabs it casually. Just as he's ready to read it a hand appears in the FRAME and snatches it away from him. It's Dave, riding away with the piece of paper in his hand. The College Guy just stands and looks after him. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE - ON A MOTOR SCOOTER 16 She's driving home. In her rearview mirror she spots something. A bicycle rider. He seems to be gaining on her. She speeds up almost instinctively. CUT TO: ANGLE ON DAVE - ON THE BIKE He's. got the paper in his mouth and he speeds up too. He shifts his gear. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE She's riding along. She glances in the rearview mirror and sees Dave quite close behind her with the paper in his mouth. She shifts her gears too. She smiles a little. CUT TO: ANGLE ON DAVE He's close enough to shout. He opens his mouth to shout. The paper flies out but he quickly catches it in mid-air. DAVE Signorina... He has momentarily lost ground on her but he sticks the paper in his mouth and pours it on. CUT TO: Cont. 5 67 REVISED - "BAMBINO"_ 8/12/78 19 16 Cont. ANGLE ON KATHERINE She's crossing the street just as the light changes. Dave crosses on the red light. Once again he's nearly hit by several cars. He follows Katherine up the hill leading to Fraternity Row. He overtakes her just as. she's about to turn into the drive leading to her sorority. But Dave is there on her right preventing her-from turning. She too almost hits him. She slams on her brakes. Dave slams on his. They come to a dead stop. DAVE Signorina...You... He's handing her the paper but then he pauses and pulls it back just as she's about to take it. He wipes the saliva off the paper on his jersey, and then gives it to her. DAVE It is yours...no? She takes the paper and smiles. Then she laughs. KATHERINE You mean you've been chasing me with this? Well, that's redly something. Thank you very much. Talk about chivalry. Dave is just looking at her. She's never seen anyone look at her quite like that. She's a bit confused. KATHERINE Well, thanks again. DAVE Is nothing...niente...signorina. KATHERINE What're you...an exchange student or something? - DAVE Si. I am Italian. My name is ENRICO GIMONDI. X KATHERINE And mine is Katherine Maxwell. DAVE Ah, Katherinal Cont. 367 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 20 X 16 Cont.l She likes the sound of this. But the way Dave looks at her is unsettling. KATHERINE Well, thanks again, again. 'BYE DAVE Ciao,. Katherina. Dave'rides away. She looks after him. OUT 17- 19 EXT. MOOCHER'S HOUSE - DAY 20 There's a big CAMPUS REALTY sign outside the house with a FOR-SALE tacked over it. NANCY is walking up to the screen door. She knocks. Moocher appears holding a huge barbell at shoulder height. They smile nervously at each other. MOOCHER NANCYL NANCY I was just on my way to work... Come in. He pushes the door open with one end of the barbell and lets her in checking the street to make sure nobody saw her. She goes in. Moocher shuts the other door too. INT. MOOCHER'S HOUSE - DAY 20-A The two room house is empty except for a sleeping bag and a wooden foot locker -- Moocher resumes working with the barbells. NANCY You know what? MOOCHER No, what? NANCY I'm leaving home that's what. MOOCHER Whatl Where're you going? Cont. 567 AiEVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 w 21 X 20-A Cont. NANCY About five blocks south. I found a nice little house to rent. It's so cute I could scream. My folks said I could have some'of their furniture from the basement. Maybe you could give me a hand...moving. MOOCHER Sure...if...If I'm not busy. You know. How's the Job? NANCY You know what! Frank said if I keep up the good work it'll just be a matter of time before I become a head cashier. I should go now. MOOCHER Maybe...eh...Maybe I'll walk you to work. I have to go that way anyway. She smiles, happy at the prospect of a nice walk together. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 21 Dave and Cyril are going through the outskirts of the campus. Dave is riding his bike slowly. Cyril is jogging along. They go past

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Breaking Away Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "BAMBINO" [ PRODUCED AS "BREAKING AWAY" ] Written by Steve Tesich June 9, 1978 FADE IN EXT. QUARRY OUTSKIRTS - DAY 1 A narrow dirt road totally surrounded by thick vegetation. Here and there we see a huge block of stone blocking the road. The sun is shining but it has a hard time making it through the foliage. In the distance we see four guys walking TOWARD the CAMERA. There is a swagger to their walk. MII is singing. The others are humming along. The melody of the song of "0 Bury Me Not On the Lone Prairie" but it's a loose version. MIME AND WHEN I DIE...WON'T YOU BURY ME ON THE"PARKING LOT OF THE A AND P BLOW OUT THE CANDLES AND BLOW OUT TIE LAMPS AND LIGHT MY PYRE WITH MY TRADING STAMPS I HAD TWO BOOKS BUT I NEEDED THREE R TO DELIVER ME FROM THE A AND P. I HAD THREE BOOKS BUT I NEEDED FOUR TO GO TO HEAVEN AND REDEEM MY SOUL. By this time the four are in front of the CAMERA. Mike is handsome and well built. CYRIL is tall and skinny. MOOCHER is very short. DAVE, hanging back a little, is carrying a large trophy. DAVE Bravo, Mike! Bravo! Bellisimot CYRIL Did you really make all that up? They pass. ANOTHER ANGLE The presence of the quarry is felt much stronger now. More and more blocks of cut stone appear. The guys are dwarfed by them. They have to climb over some. MIKE I sent away for this stuff from Wyoming. It'll tell you everything. Since you don't believe me maybe you'll believe it when you see it. CYRIL And we'd work on the same ranch and sleep in the bunkhouse together, eh? Cont. 567 REVISED '"BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 2 X 1 Cont. MOOCHER That's the whole point. CYRIL I always miss the whole point. MOOCHER It'd be nice to have a paying Job again, that's for sure. DAVE Niente laborare. Niente mangare. MIKE What's that mean? DAVE You don't work. You don't eat. CYRIL That's a terrible thing to say. MED. SHOT The quarries are felt even more now. Walls of stone rise up around the guys. CYRIL Are you really going to shave your legs? DAVE Certo. All the Italians do it. MIKE That's some country. The women don't shave theirs. CYRIL STOP! (pauses as if THUNDERSTRUCK; hand on heart) It was somewhere along here that I lost all interest in life. Ah, right over there. I.saw Dolores Reineke and fat Marvin. Why? Why Dolores? MOOCHER They're married now. Coat. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 3 X 1 Cont.1 MIRE You see what I saved you from, Cyril. Had I not told you about the two of them you never would have followed them out here. CYRIL- Thank you, Mike. You made me lose all interest in life and I'm grateful. MIKE My brother says he saw you and Nancy. Moocher. MOOCHER When? MIKE Last Friday? MOOCHER Wasn't me. I'm not seeing her anymore. ANOTHER ANGLE They are now standing above a huge pool of water with sheer cliffs on three sides. Abandoned derricks loom in the distance. Dave is now humming softly a Neapolitan song. They begin the descent. CYRIL I kind of miss school. You know. This will be the first time nobody's going to ask us to write a theme about how we spent our summer. MIKE Remember the Tomb of the Unknown Substitute Teacher. MOOCHER She believed us too. MIKE (TEACHER'S VOICE) Sex spelled backwards x-es. CYRIL When you're sixteen they call it sweet sixteen. When you're eighteen you get to drink, see dirty movies and vote. But what the hell do you do when you're nineteen. 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 3-A X 1 Cont.2 MIKE You leave home. CYRIL My dad says Jesus never went further than fifty miles from his home. Mike is skipping down the rocks toward the water, taking clothes off as he does. The rest follow. MIKE And look what happened to him. Mike jumps into the water. Moocher and Cyril follow. Dave looks on. FADE THROUGH TO: DAVE'S P.O.V. 1-A The guys are swimming. Dave is holding his trophy casually, enjoying the beautiful day. He pulls out a little Italian Phrase Book. Finds what he wants. DAVE Oggi fa bello,-non e vero? MIKE Sure thing, partner. MOOCHER C'mon in. DAVE I read where this Italian coach said you should never swim after a race. CYRIL Who's swimming? I'm taking a leak. Moocher and Mike splash water at him and swim away. FADE THROUGH TO: 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 4 ROCKS BY THE WATER 1-B All four guys are sunbathing looking at the water. Deep X down, at the bottom of the quarry hole we see an old icebox. Mike is staring at it. The mood is one of total relaxation. MIRE Aren't you glad we got fired from The A and P. Right now we'd be X working. MOOCHER We didn't get fired. You got- fired. We quit. MIKE One for all and all for one. MOOCHER There aren't many places, you know, that'll hire all four of USE CYRIL You know what I'd like to be? MIKE Smart. CYRIL A cartoon of some kind. Man, X that'd be great. Like when they get hit on their head with a frying pan and their head looks like a frying pan-with a handle and everything. And then they go b-r-r-r. (shakes his head) And their head comes back to normal. That'd be great.. MIKE How come you're so stupid, Cyril. CYRIL I don't know. I think I have a dumb heredity. What's your excuse, Mike? Mike hits him hard on the arm. Cyril winces. Mike stands up. He makes sure they're all watching and dives in. The guys talk as they follow his progress. DAVE You hear from your folks, Moocher? 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 5 1-B Coat. MOOCHER .. Yeah, my Dad called. He says there's a lot more jobs in'Chicago. He hasn't got anything yet. Mike has reached the icebox. He opens the door. Goes in. Shuts the door. MOOCHER He wanted to know if the house was sold. They could use the money. DAVE You can come and live with me when it's sold. In Italy everybody lives together. All three of them are getting concerned about Mike. MOOCHER Ever since you won that Italian X bike you've been acting weird. You really think you are Italian. CYRIL I .wouldn't mind thinking I was s omebody myself. All three of them stand up. MOOCHER Maybe the door is stuck. God dammit! Moocher dives in. Dave and Cyril follow. Moocher swims down to the icebox, forces the door open. They surface. As soon as they hit the surface we hear: MIKE o.s.} Yoo--hoo . THE GUYS' P.O.V. They see Mike standing on top of the rock above them. MIKE It's got no back on it! He laughs triumphantly. He's ready to dive in again when he pauses and looks. High above where he stands on the other side of the quarry hole, we see several figures. The guys are swimming toward the rocks and looking at the figures too. 5667 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 6 1-B Cont.l CLOSEUP - MIKE His face has hardened as he looks at the figures. MIKE What the hell are they doing here? X ANOTHER ANGLE Dave, Moocher and Cyril are standing on the rocks below Mike. Mike is still on top of the rock. High above him are the College Kids. Three guys and three girls. One of the guys is standing on the ledge above the water. Our guys are looking at the College Kid on the ledge. He seems intent on diving into the water. It's a distance of at least eighty feet. He pushes off and dives in executing a beautiful somersault into a swan dive. CLOSEUP - OUR GUYS They are stunned. CLOSEUP - MIKE He's obviously envious.. He looks from the diver toward the guys and seems to feel his position undermined. CYRIL I've never seen anyone dive off from there. MIS BASTARDS[ (CLIMBING DOWN THE ROCK) They've got indoor pools and outdoor pools on the campus but they got to come here. (Joins the guys) It's my goddamn quarry. Cyril assumes a very dramatic posture. Sings to the theme from Exodus. CYRIL This hole! This quarry hole is mine! MIKE Hey, screw you, Cyril. Let's get out of here. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6 6. 8 7 EXT. QUARRY - DAY 1-C They are retracing their steps out of the quarry. Mike is leading. -Moocher is behind him. Dave is at the end. He's carrying a huge trophy casually. X MIKE o.s.) If they re going to come here then we'll go on .the campus. MED. SHOT - MIKE'S CAR 1-D A racing bicycle is on top of the car. The guys are in the car and the car is moving fast through the dirt road leading out of the quarries. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 2 Mike is speeding through the town. A huge billboard with the Marlboro Man whizzes past us.. INT. MIKE'S CAR - Mike looks angry. He's got an unlit cigarette in his mouth. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 3 A car lot is on the right. "CAMPUS CARS.", MOOCHER Isn't your dad working today? DAVE (o.s.) No, the doctor told him to take it easy. He's taking Sunday's off. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - CITY HALL - DAY 4 City Hall is on the left. CYRIL (O S ) That's where you go to get a marriage license, Mooch. MOOCHER (o.s.) Yeah, so what? Cyril laughs and then howls as he's hit. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" ; 6/16/78 8 OUT 5 X EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 6 Huge modern structures are looming in the distance in stark contrast to the town we just passed through. Mike's car-is speeding toward them. X EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 7 Mike's car turns into a street called Fraternity Row.- Most of the fraternities and sororities-are located along this stretch. Neat lawns line the area. The houses are enormous: an architectural mixture of old manor house and modern motel. The college kids are outside on the lawns. Some are reading. Girls in bikinis sunbathing. Guys washing their cars. Some other guys passing the football around. Transistor radios playing. Mike drives slowly. INT. MIKE'S CAR All the guys are looking out of the windows as if they were in a museum. Mike looks at the expensive cars along the way. Cyril looks at the Girls in bikinis. Moocher looks at the huge well-built guys. Dave just looks. CYRIL Going to college must do'something 'to girls' tits. Just look at them. Campussies and sororititties. (sticks head out; shouts to a couple of Girls) - Hi, there. What's your major? The Girls look up and kind of sneer. MOOCHER They sure look like they've got it made. MIKE That's because they're rich. DAVE Italians are all poor but they're happy. MIKE Maybe in Italy. Cont. 567 9 7 Cont. CYRIL I wonder what it's like to kiss a coed. I wonder about it a lot. Ahead of Mike's car we see two Guys and two Girls playing Frisbee. They are standing on the lawns and throwing the Frisbee to each other across the street. Mike's car is moving slowly forward when an ill-thrown Frisbee lands on the street. Mike sees it and speeds up. A Girl is running to get it but Mike gets there first and runs over it. Dave gets a quick look at the Girl as she stops"suddenly to keep from getting hit. The two college Guys run out and give' Mike the finger. He sees them in the rearview mirror. MIKE Hey, those bastards are giving us the finger. He slams on the brakes. MOOCHER Hey, c'mon, Mike. We're on their turf. Dave is looking back at the Girl. The two Guys are challenging Mike, motioning to him to come back. The two Girls are trying to talk them out of it. Mike-is gunning the car. MIKE They think they own the place. MOOCHER They do. CYRIL Besides, you've humiliated them enough. In ancient Japan when you ran over a samurai's Frisbee he had to commit suicide. Just as he laughs Mike shifts the car in reverse. The two Guys and Girls are standing in the middle of the road. The Guys are coming forward thinking Mike's going to stop, but Mike has no intention of stopping. The Girls and the Guys split as Mike's car roars between them. Once again Dave catches a fleeting glimpse of the Girl. Having scattered them, Mike makes a U-turn and drives away in the direction he came from. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" 8/12/78 10 7 Cont.1 CLOSEUP - THE COLLEGE KIDS The girl Dave saw, KATHERINE, is looking after the car holding a cracked Frisbee in her hand. The tall well-built guy next to her, ROD, her boyfriend, looks real upset. He is wearing a Little 500 T-shirt. ROD Dumbass cutters. Goddamn redneck retards. OUT 8 CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE 9 riding. A Neapolitan melody plays as Dave rides holding his trophy:. a romantic song of the south and not southern Indiana. The small houses could be Italian houses to Dave. The people sitting on porches and steps could be Italians. Dave waves like a returning hero. DAVE Buon giornol Buon giornol (SPOTS SOME SMALL CHILDREN) Hey, bambino. The people and the kids look at him like he's an oddball, but Dave does not notice. A woman is shaking a rug ahead of him, and she looks so Italian that he can't help but smile. A big blonde GIRL is coming out of the house dressed in a waitress outfit. She sees Dave. G= Dave...is Moocher home? But Dave just rides past her in a daydream. CLOSEUP - A COUPLE ON A PORCH They're older PEOPLE. The Man is drinking a beer. WOMAN Tsk. Tsk. He was as normal as pumpkin pie and'now look x at him. The Man lets out a long beer belch. WOMAN His poor parents. 5 67 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 11 _ X l f T. BLASE HOUSE - DAY 10 MR. BLASE is sitting at a kitchen table. MRS. BLASE is boiling water. Mr. Blase does not look happy. He's got a flyswatter in his hand. He sees a fly. Whack. He hits it. He misses. MR. BLASE It's that cologne he wears. MRS. BLASE Neapolitan Sunset, it's called. MR. BLASE Well, it smells like fruit punch to me and it attracts flies. Mrs. Blase comes over and pours some hot water into his cup. She takes a package of Sanka from her apron pocket and puts it in the saucer. MRS. BLASE There. Mrs. Blase looks at the table. MR. BLASE This is itl MRS. BLASE You have to watch your diet. MR. BLASE Diet, if anybody found out I was on the diet they'd laugh me out of town. A diet. MRS. BLASE You know what the doctor said. At your age... MR. BLASE At my agel What the hell do you mean at my age. MRS. BLASE He says you have a bad heart. MR. BLASE Yeah, but it's got nothing to do with my age. It's our son that's ruining my heart, Evelyn. What's he going to do? He wanted a year with those bums so I gave him a year. CONT 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 12 X 10 Cont. MRS. BLASE It hasn't been a year yet. MR. BLASE But, Evelyn. Look whatts happened to him. He's turned into a ity; It was funny at first but it's not funny anymore. Ciao, Papa. Ciao, Mama. Arrivaderchit That's ity talk. MRS. BLASE It's just hero worship. He says the Italians are the best bike racers in'the world and he... MR. BLASE This is America, Evelyn. Only paper boys ride bikes and they earn money doing it. MRS. BLASE Re did win his bicycle and he was quite sickly 'til he started racing around and in three years ._ ne's... MR. BLASE (INTERRUPTS) So now his body's fine but his mind is gone. He used to be a smart kid. I thought he was going to goy to college. MRS. BLASE I thought you didn't want him to go to college. MR. BLASE Why should he go to college? I didn't go to college. When I was nineteen I was working in the quarries ten hours a day. MRS. BLASE But most of the quarries have shut down. MR. BLASE Let him find another job. MRS. BLASE But there aren't any jobs. 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/15/78 13 10 Cont.1 MR. BLASE Let him look at least. Let him come home tired from looking. He's never tired. MRS. BLASE He's young. MR. BLASE When I was young I was tired. I had my own place at seventeen. MRS. BLASE He says Italian families stay together, MR. BLASE BUT WE ARE NOT ITALIANI MRS. BLASE I know. It's just that I come from a big family myself. . .and it really was kind of nice... (smiles, half EMBARRASSED) He thinks we should have another kid. MR. BLASE What?t Dave enters carrying his trophy. DAVE Ah, buon giorno, Papa. MR. BLASE I'm your goddamned father, not papa. DAVE Buon giorno, Mama. MR. BLASE She's your goddamn mother. Whatcha do -- win again? Dave opens the fridge and takes out a hunk of cheese and a hunk of salami and starts eating. Mr. Blase looks at him like a wolf and then he looks at half a grapefruit in front of him. He finds it unbearable to watch him chew. Cont. 567 REVISED - "B.ANBINO" - 8/15/78 14 10 Cont.2 DAVE Yes, the victory ...she was easy. But the promoter...'fondatore' ...He says the Italian team...it will come maybe soon...and I will race with the best...ITALIANO. X Like the nightingale they sing, like the eagles they fly. Mr. Blase can't bear to watch him eat. He's starved. MR. BLASE Speaking of flies...there's a helluva lot of flies following you into the house. DAVE Fly in Italian is 'mosca.' MR. BLASE Well in English it's a pest. And speaking of pests... Mrs. Blase senses an argument. MRS .. BLASE It's a nice trophy isn't it, dear? MR. BLASE Yeah, so what. I've lived fifty years without ever getting a trophy. DAVE You never got trophy, Papa? MR. BLASE No, never, and what's more... Dave interrupts. DAVE Here, Papa. I give you. You are 'Numero Uno.' King Papa. Dave hands him the trophy. Mr. Blase is stunned. He'takes it. Before he can even think to give it back Dave kisses him on both cheeks. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/15/78 MR. BLASE Don't do thatl How many times... DAVE Now I'have to go and take a shower. (starts to leave AND PAUSES) Such a big house and so few people. I wish I had plenty of fratelly and sorelly to greet me when I come home and to wave when I go. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 15 10 Cont.3 Dave leaves. Mrs. Blase sighs. She too would like a big family. Mr. Blase is holding the trophy and looking at it. Neapolitan music is heard coming from Dave's room. Mr. Blase has had it. MR. BLASE There'-s that ity music again. X I'm going to have it out with him now. He goes to Dave's room carrying the trophy with him. Mrs. Blase follows him a few steps and stops. She waits... listening. She is apprehensive. She wants to follow and help Dave out but she stays behind wringing her hands. Mr. Blase reappears looking quite stunned. He's holding the trophy in one hand along his side. MRS. BLASE What's the matter? MR. BLASE HE'S SHAVINGL MRS. BLASE Well, so what? MR. BLASE His legs, Evelyn. He's shaving X his legs. I saw him. His legs. MT. DAVE' S BATHROOM 11 Huamoing along with the record player Dave is shaving away at his overly-lathered legs. OUT 12 CUT TO: INT. DAVE'S ROOM - CLOSEUP - THE STEREO - DAY 13 A record is turning. On top of the dust cover we see an album cover: ENRICO GIMDNDI SINGS NEAPOLITAN FAVORITES. X The CAMERA MOVES SLOWLY AROUND his room. There are bicycle trophies everywhere. Posters of Italian racers. Posters of Italian movies. Magazine covers and newspaper clippings from Italian racing magazines. Bicycle parts: Spare wheels...cranks...pedals. Several bicycle jerseys hanging on the doorknob.. ENRICO GINSONDI sings during.this tour of Dave's room. Dave comes out of the shower humming along. A cat comes to greet him, meowing. DAVE Ah, there you are Fellini... Hungry, eh? Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 16 13 Cont. He goes to a drawer and takes out a can of "Chef Boy-ar-dee" spaghetti and meatballs. Still humming, he opens the can and dumps the food into a deep ashtray with "CINZANO" written on the sides. DAVE Mangiare...mangiare... Be looks at the posters of the bicycle riders. He looks in the mirror. He takes a comb and combs his hair back in the "continental" style. Then he smiles. He picks up a book: "ITALIAN PEASE BOOK" and lies down on the bed to read it. EXT. MR. BLASE'S USED CAR LOT - DAY 14 A big sign: "CAMPUS CARS." The car lot is nowhere near the campus but the sign is considered good business. All around the car lot are other signs: BEST DEAL IN TOWN. CARS WITH A COLLEGE EDUCATION. The cars themselves have signs on them: "GRAD SCHOOL SPECIAL." "ENGLISH MAJOR" PhD" "HOMECOMING QUEEN" "CUM LAUDE" "MAGNA CUM LAUDE." CLOSEUP - MR. BLASE AND CUSTOMER The CUSTOMER is a young college kid. Mr. Blase is showing him the "HOMECOMING QUEEN." MR. BLASE It gets thirty miles to a gallon, X of course the mileage you get may vary. It's a beaut, right? Right. You sure know how to pick them. Frankly this is the best car on the lot. Quality product. DAVE (o.s. ) Ciao, Papal Mr. Blase cringes. Looks up. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE He's on his bike across the street. He's waving. DAVE'S P.O.V. Mr. Blase is looking at his Customer pretending he has no idea who Dave is. He shrugs and turns his back and quickly glances over his shoulder as Dave rides away. 567 17 EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 15 Students are everywhere and so are classroom buildings. Tall, new, limestone structures resembling office buildings. Students sit on the steps outside the buildings. They are lying around on the grass and walking to and from classes. All of them have books in hand. The wind is blowing. CLOSEUP - DAVE He's sitting next to his bike on the grass and looking around at all of them. In his hands he has his Italian Phrase Book: the book being his admission ticket into this world. It's obvious he's feeling a little out of place, but he enjoys looking at the campus world. A campus Police Car drives by and Dave quickly hides his face in the book. Waits for it to pass and when he looks up he is struck by something. MED. SHOT - KATHERINE - DAVE'S P.0.V. She's coming out of a classroom building with a bunch of books and papers in her hands. The wind is blowing her hair back. The CAMERA ZOOMS IN ON her face, isolating her from all the others, just as Dave is doing. CLOSEUP - DAVE His mouth is open. He blinks once. He swallows. DAVE Mama mia I CUT TO: MED. SHOT - KATHERINE As she's walking, she transfers her books from one hand to the other. A piece of paper escapes her and flies away in the wind. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE He sees the paper fly away and jumps up. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE She tries to go after the paper but the traffic keeps her from crossing the street. The paper's flying away. She gives up, and turns toward the parking lot just as we see Dave on his Cont. 567 18 15 Cont. bicycle chasing after the paper. He cuts through the cars, he cuts in front of them. The horns blow. The brakes screech. All Dave sees is the paper. He's on a mission. He cuts through the pedestrians crossing the street maneuvering brilliantly. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - A COLLEGE GUY He's just walking. He sees the piece of paper flying around and grabs it casually. Just as he's ready to read it a hand appears in the FRAME and snatches it away from him. It's Dave, riding away with the piece of paper in his hand. The College Guy just stands and looks after him. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE - ON A MOTOR SCOOTER 16 She's driving home. In her rearview mirror she spots something. A bicycle rider. He seems to be gaining on her. She speeds up almost instinctively. CUT TO: ANGLE ON DAVE - ON THE BIKE He's. got the paper in his mouth and he speeds up too. He shifts his gear. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE She's riding along. She glances in the rearview mirror and sees Dave quite close behind her with the paper in his mouth. She shifts her gears too. She smiles a little. CUT TO: ANGLE ON DAVE He's close enough to shout. He opens his mouth to shout. The paper flies out but he quickly catches it in mid-air. DAVE Signorina... He has momentarily lost ground on her but he sticks the paper in his mouth and pours it on. CUT TO: Cont. 5 67 REVISED - "BAMBINO"_ 8/12/78 19 16 Cont. ANGLE ON KATHERINE She's crossing the street just as the light changes. Dave crosses on the red light. Once again he's nearly hit by several cars. He follows Katherine up the hill leading to Fraternity Row. He overtakes her just as. she's about to turn into the drive leading to her sorority. But Dave is there on her right preventing her-from turning. She too almost hits him. She slams on her brakes. Dave slams on his. They come to a dead stop. DAVE Signorina...You... He's handing her the paper but then he pauses and pulls it back just as she's about to take it. He wipes the saliva off the paper on his jersey, and then gives it to her. DAVE It is yours...no? She takes the paper and smiles. Then she laughs. KATHERINE You mean you've been chasing me with this? Well, that's redly something. Thank you very much. Talk about chivalry. Dave is just looking at her. She's never seen anyone look at her quite like that. She's a bit confused. KATHERINE Well, thanks again. DAVE Is nothing...niente...signorina. KATHERINE What're you...an exchange student or something? - DAVE Si. I am Italian. My name is ENRICO GIMONDI. X KATHERINE And mine is Katherine Maxwell. DAVE Ah, Katherinal Cont. 367 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 20 X 16 Cont.l She likes the sound of this. But the way Dave looks at her is unsettling. KATHERINE Well, thanks again, again. 'BYE DAVE Ciao,. Katherina. Dave'rides away. She looks after him. OUT 17- 19 EXT. MOOCHER'S HOUSE - DAY 20 There's a big CAMPUS REALTY sign outside the house with a FOR-SALE tacked over it. NANCY is walking up to the screen door. She knocks. Moocher appears holding a huge barbell at shoulder height. They smile nervously at each other. MOOCHER NANCYL NANCY I was just on my way to work... Come in. He pushes the door open with one end of the barbell and lets her in checking the street to make sure nobody saw her. She goes in. Moocher shuts the other door too. INT. MOOCHER'S HOUSE - DAY 20-A The two room house is empty except for a sleeping bag and a wooden foot locker -- Moocher resumes working with the barbells. NANCY You know what? MOOCHER No, what? NANCY I'm leaving home that's what. MOOCHER Whatl Where're you going? Cont. 567 AiEVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 w 21 X 20-A Cont. NANCY About five blocks south. I found a nice little house to rent. It's so cute I could scream. My folks said I could have some'of their furniture from the basement. Maybe you could give me a hand...moving. MOOCHER Sure...if...If I'm not busy. You know. How's the Job? NANCY You know what! Frank said if I keep up the good work it'll just be a matter of time before I become a head cashier. I should go now. MOOCHER Maybe...eh...Maybe I'll walk you to work. I have to go that way anyway. She smiles, happy at the prospect of a nice walk together. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 21 Dave and Cyril are going through the outskirts of the campus. Dave is riding his bike slowly. Cyril is jogging along. They go past

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Breaking Away Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "BAMBINO" [ PRODUCED AS "BREAKING AWAY" ] Written by Steve Tesich June 9, 1978 FADE IN EXT. QUARRY OUTSKIRTS - DAY 1 A narrow dirt road totally surrounded by thick vegetation. Here and there we see a huge block of stone blocking the road. The sun is shining but it has a hard time making it through the foliage. In the distance we see four guys walking TOWARD the CAMERA. There is a swagger to their walk. MII is singing. The others are humming along. The melody of the song of "0 Bury Me Not On the Lone Prairie" but it's a loose version. MIME AND WHEN I DIE...WON'T YOU BURY ME ON THE"PARKING LOT OF THE A AND P BLOW OUT THE CANDLES AND BLOW OUT TIE LAMPS AND LIGHT MY PYRE WITH MY TRADING STAMPS I HAD TWO BOOKS BUT I NEEDED THREE R TO DELIVER ME FROM THE A AND P. I HAD THREE BOOKS BUT I NEEDED FOUR TO GO TO HEAVEN AND REDEEM MY SOUL. By this time the four are in front of the CAMERA. Mike is handsome and well built. CYRIL is tall and skinny. MOOCHER is very short. DAVE, hanging back a little, is carrying a large trophy. DAVE Bravo, Mike! Bravo! Bellisimot CYRIL Did you really make all that up? They pass. ANOTHER ANGLE The presence of the quarry is felt much stronger now. More and more blocks of cut stone appear. The guys are dwarfed by them. They have to climb over some. MIKE I sent away for this stuff from Wyoming. It'll tell you everything. Since you don't believe me maybe you'll believe it when you see it. CYRIL And we'd work on the same ranch and sleep in the bunkhouse together, eh? Cont. 567 REVISED '"BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 2 X 1 Cont. MOOCHER That's the whole point. CYRIL I always miss the whole point. MOOCHER It'd be nice to have a paying Job again, that's for sure. DAVE Niente laborare. Niente mangare. MIKE What's that mean? DAVE You don't work. You don't eat. CYRIL That's a terrible thing to say. MED. SHOT The quarries are felt even more now. Walls of stone rise up around the guys. CYRIL Are you really going to shave your legs? DAVE Certo. All the Italians do it. MIKE That's some country. The women don't shave theirs. CYRIL STOP! (pauses as if THUNDERSTRUCK; hand on heart) It was somewhere along here that I lost all interest in life. Ah, right over there. I.saw Dolores Reineke and fat Marvin. Why? Why Dolores? MOOCHER They're married now. Coat. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 3 X 1 Cont.1 MIRE You see what I saved you from, Cyril. Had I not told you about the two of them you never would have followed them out here. CYRIL- Thank you, Mike. You made me lose all interest in life and I'm grateful. MIKE My brother says he saw you and Nancy. Moocher. MOOCHER When? MIKE Last Friday? MOOCHER Wasn't me. I'm not seeing her anymore. ANOTHER ANGLE They are now standing above a huge pool of water with sheer cliffs on three sides. Abandoned derricks loom in the distance. Dave is now humming softly a Neapolitan song. They begin the descent. CYRIL I kind of miss school. You know. This will be the first time nobody's going to ask us to write a theme about how we spent our summer. MIKE Remember the Tomb of the Unknown Substitute Teacher. MOOCHER She believed us too. MIKE (TEACHER'S VOICE) Sex spelled backwards x-es. CYRIL When you're sixteen they call it sweet sixteen. When you're eighteen you get to drink, see dirty movies and vote. But what the hell do you do when you're nineteen. 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 3-A X 1 Cont.2 MIKE You leave home. CYRIL My dad says Jesus never went further than fifty miles from his home. Mike is skipping down the rocks toward the water, taking clothes off as he does. The rest follow. MIKE And look what happened to him. Mike jumps into the water. Moocher and Cyril follow. Dave looks on. FADE THROUGH TO: DAVE'S P.O.V. 1-A The guys are swimming. Dave is holding his trophy casually, enjoying the beautiful day. He pulls out a little Italian Phrase Book. Finds what he wants. DAVE Oggi fa bello,-non e vero? MIKE Sure thing, partner. MOOCHER C'mon in. DAVE I read where this Italian coach said you should never swim after a race. CYRIL Who's swimming? I'm taking a leak. Moocher and Mike splash water at him and swim away. FADE THROUGH TO: 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 4 ROCKS BY THE WATER 1-B All four guys are sunbathing looking at the water. Deep X down, at the bottom of the quarry hole we see an old icebox. Mike is staring at it. The mood is one of total relaxation. MIRE Aren't you glad we got fired from The A and P. Right now we'd be X working. MOOCHER We didn't get fired. You got- fired. We quit. MIKE One for all and all for one. MOOCHER There aren't many places, you know, that'll hire all four of USE CYRIL You know what I'd like to be? MIKE Smart. CYRIL A cartoon of some kind. Man, X that'd be great. Like when they get hit on their head with a frying pan and their head looks like a frying pan-with a handle and everything. And then they go b-r-r-r. (shakes his head) And their head comes back to normal. That'd be great.. MIKE How come you're so stupid, Cyril. CYRIL I don't know. I think I have a dumb heredity. What's your excuse, Mike? Mike hits him hard on the arm. Cyril winces. Mike stands up. He makes sure they're all watching and dives in. The guys talk as they follow his progress. DAVE You hear from your folks, Moocher? 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 5 1-B Coat. MOOCHER .. Yeah, my Dad called. He says there's a lot more jobs in'Chicago. He hasn't got anything yet. Mike has reached the icebox. He opens the door. Goes in. Shuts the door. MOOCHER He wanted to know if the house was sold. They could use the money. DAVE You can come and live with me when it's sold. In Italy everybody lives together. All three of them are getting concerned about Mike. MOOCHER Ever since you won that Italian X bike you've been acting weird. You really think you are Italian. CYRIL I .wouldn't mind thinking I was s omebody myself. All three of them stand up. MOOCHER Maybe the door is stuck. God dammit! Moocher dives in. Dave and Cyril follow. Moocher swims down to the icebox, forces the door open. They surface. As soon as they hit the surface we hear: MIKE o.s.} Yoo--hoo . THE GUYS' P.O.V. They see Mike standing on top of the rock above them. MIKE It's got no back on it! He laughs triumphantly. He's ready to dive in again when he pauses and looks. High above where he stands on the other side of the quarry hole, we see several figures. The guys are swimming toward the rocks and looking at the figures too. 5667 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 6 1-B Cont.l CLOSEUP - MIKE His face has hardened as he looks at the figures. MIKE What the hell are they doing here? X ANOTHER ANGLE Dave, Moocher and Cyril are standing on the rocks below Mike. Mike is still on top of the rock. High above him are the College Kids. Three guys and three girls. One of the guys is standing on the ledge above the water. Our guys are looking at the College Kid on the ledge. He seems intent on diving into the water. It's a distance of at least eighty feet. He pushes off and dives in executing a beautiful somersault into a swan dive. CLOSEUP - OUR GUYS They are stunned. CLOSEUP - MIKE He's obviously envious.. He looks from the diver toward the guys and seems to feel his position undermined. CYRIL I've never seen anyone dive off from there. MIS BASTARDS[ (CLIMBING DOWN THE ROCK) They've got indoor pools and outdoor pools on the campus but they got to come here. (Joins the guys) It's my goddamn quarry. Cyril assumes a very dramatic posture. Sings to the theme from Exodus. CYRIL This hole! This quarry hole is mine! MIKE Hey, screw you, Cyril. Let's get out of here. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6 6. 8 7 EXT. QUARRY - DAY 1-C They are retracing their steps out of the quarry. Mike is leading. -Moocher is behind him. Dave is at the end. He's carrying a huge trophy casually. X MIKE o.s.) If they re going to come here then we'll go on .the campus. MED. SHOT - MIKE'S CAR 1-D A racing bicycle is on top of the car. The guys are in the car and the car is moving fast through the dirt road leading out of the quarries. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 2 Mike is speeding through the town. A huge billboard with the Marlboro Man whizzes past us.. INT. MIKE'S CAR - Mike looks angry. He's got an unlit cigarette in his mouth. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 3 A car lot is on the right. "CAMPUS CARS.", MOOCHER Isn't your dad working today? DAVE (o.s.) No, the doctor told him to take it easy. He's taking Sunday's off. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - CITY HALL - DAY 4 City Hall is on the left. CYRIL (O S ) That's where you go to get a marriage license, Mooch. MOOCHER (o.s.) Yeah, so what? Cyril laughs and then howls as he's hit. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" ; 6/16/78 8 OUT 5 X EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 6 Huge modern structures are looming in the distance in stark contrast to the town we just passed through. Mike's car-is speeding toward them. X EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 7 Mike's car turns into a street called Fraternity Row.- Most of the fraternities and sororities-are located along this stretch. Neat lawns line the area. The houses are enormous: an architectural mixture of old manor house and modern motel. The college kids are outside on the lawns. Some are reading. Girls in bikinis sunbathing. Guys washing their cars. Some other guys passing the football around. Transistor radios playing. Mike drives slowly. INT. MIKE'S CAR All the guys are looking out of the windows as if they were in a museum. Mike looks at the expensive cars along the way. Cyril looks at the Girls in bikinis. Moocher looks at the huge well-built guys. Dave just looks. CYRIL Going to college must do'something 'to girls' tits. Just look at them. Campussies and sororititties. (sticks head out; shouts to a couple of Girls) - Hi, there. What's your major? The Girls look up and kind of sneer. MOOCHER They sure look like they've got it made. MIKE That's because they're rich. DAVE Italians are all poor but they're happy. MIKE Maybe in Italy. Cont. 567 9 7 Cont. CYRIL I wonder what it's like to kiss a coed. I wonder about it a lot. Ahead of Mike's car we see two Guys and two Girls playing Frisbee. They are standing on the lawns and throwing the Frisbee to each other across the street. Mike's car is moving slowly forward when an ill-thrown Frisbee lands on the street. Mike sees it and speeds up. A Girl is running to get it but Mike gets there first and runs over it. Dave gets a quick look at the Girl as she stops"suddenly to keep from getting hit. The two college Guys run out and give' Mike the finger. He sees them in the rearview mirror. MIKE Hey, those bastards are giving us the finger. He slams on the brakes. MOOCHER Hey, c'mon, Mike. We're on their turf. Dave is looking back at the Girl. The two Guys are challenging Mike, motioning to him to come back. The two Girls are trying to talk them out of it. Mike-is gunning the car. MIKE They think they own the place. MOOCHER They do. CYRIL Besides, you've humiliated them enough. In ancient Japan when you ran over a samurai's Frisbee he had to commit suicide. Just as he laughs Mike shifts the car in reverse. The two Guys and Girls are standing in the middle of the road. The Guys are coming forward thinking Mike's going to stop, but Mike has no intention of stopping. The Girls and the Guys split as Mike's car roars between them. Once again Dave catches a fleeting glimpse of the Girl. Having scattered them, Mike makes a U-turn and drives away in the direction he came from. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" 8/12/78 10 7 Cont.1 CLOSEUP - THE COLLEGE KIDS The girl Dave saw, KATHERINE, is looking after the car holding a cracked Frisbee in her hand. The tall well-built guy next to her, ROD, her boyfriend, looks real upset. He is wearing a Little 500 T-shirt. ROD Dumbass cutters. Goddamn redneck retards. OUT 8 CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE 9 riding. A Neapolitan melody plays as Dave rides holding his trophy:. a romantic song of the south and not southern Indiana. The small houses could be Italian houses to Dave. The people sitting on porches and steps could be Italians. Dave waves like a returning hero. DAVE Buon giornol Buon giornol (SPOTS SOME SMALL CHILDREN) Hey, bambino. The people and the kids look at him like he's an oddball, but Dave does not notice. A woman is shaking a rug ahead of him, and she looks so Italian that he can't help but smile. A big blonde GIRL is coming out of the house dressed in a waitress outfit. She sees Dave. G= Dave...is Moocher home? But Dave just rides past her in a daydream. CLOSEUP - A COUPLE ON A PORCH They're older PEOPLE. The Man is drinking a beer. WOMAN Tsk. Tsk. He was as normal as pumpkin pie and'now look x at him. The Man lets out a long beer belch. WOMAN His poor parents. 5 67 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 11 _ X l f T. BLASE HOUSE - DAY 10 MR. BLASE is sitting at a kitchen table. MRS. BLASE is boiling water. Mr. Blase does not look happy. He's got a flyswatter in his hand. He sees a fly. Whack. He hits it. He misses. MR. BLASE It's that cologne he wears. MRS. BLASE Neapolitan Sunset, it's called. MR. BLASE Well, it smells like fruit punch to me and it attracts flies. Mrs. Blase comes over and pours some hot water into his cup. She takes a package of Sanka from her apron pocket and puts it in the saucer. MRS. BLASE There. Mrs. Blase looks at the table. MR. BLASE This is itl MRS. BLASE You have to watch your diet. MR. BLASE Diet, if anybody found out I was on the diet they'd laugh me out of town. A diet. MRS. BLASE You know what the doctor said. At your age... MR. BLASE At my agel What the hell do you mean at my age. MRS. BLASE He says you have a bad heart. MR. BLASE Yeah, but it's got nothing to do with my age. It's our son that's ruining my heart, Evelyn. What's he going to do? He wanted a year with those bums so I gave him a year. CONT 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 12 X 10 Cont. MRS. BLASE It hasn't been a year yet. MR. BLASE But, Evelyn. Look whatts happened to him. He's turned into a ity; It was funny at first but it's not funny anymore. Ciao, Papa. Ciao, Mama. Arrivaderchit That's ity talk. MRS. BLASE It's just hero worship. He says the Italians are the best bike racers in'the world and he... MR. BLASE This is America, Evelyn. Only paper boys ride bikes and they earn money doing it. MRS. BLASE Re did win his bicycle and he was quite sickly 'til he started racing around and in three years ._ ne's... MR. BLASE (INTERRUPTS) So now his body's fine but his mind is gone. He used to be a smart kid. I thought he was going to goy to college. MRS. BLASE I thought you didn't want him to go to college. MR. BLASE Why should he go to college? I didn't go to college. When I was nineteen I was working in the quarries ten hours a day. MRS. BLASE But most of the quarries have shut down. MR. BLASE Let him find another job. MRS. BLASE But there aren't any jobs. 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/15/78 13 10 Cont.1 MR. BLASE Let him look at least. Let him come home tired from looking. He's never tired. MRS. BLASE He's young. MR. BLASE When I was young I was tired. I had my own place at seventeen. MRS. BLASE He says Italian families stay together, MR. BLASE BUT WE ARE NOT ITALIANI MRS. BLASE I know. It's just that I come from a big family myself. . .and it really was kind of nice... (smiles, half EMBARRASSED) He thinks we should have another kid. MR. BLASE What?t Dave enters carrying his trophy. DAVE Ah, buon giorno, Papa. MR. BLASE I'm your goddamned father, not papa. DAVE Buon giorno, Mama. MR. BLASE She's your goddamn mother. Whatcha do -- win again? Dave opens the fridge and takes out a hunk of cheese and a hunk of salami and starts eating. Mr. Blase looks at him like a wolf and then he looks at half a grapefruit in front of him. He finds it unbearable to watch him chew. Cont. 567 REVISED - "B.ANBINO" - 8/15/78 14 10 Cont.2 DAVE Yes, the victory ...she was easy. But the promoter...'fondatore' ...He says the Italian team...it will come maybe soon...and I will race with the best...ITALIANO. X Like the nightingale they sing, like the eagles they fly. Mr. Blase can't bear to watch him eat. He's starved. MR. BLASE Speaking of flies...there's a helluva lot of flies following you into the house. DAVE Fly in Italian is 'mosca.' MR. BLASE Well in English it's a pest. And speaking of pests... Mrs. Blase senses an argument. MRS .. BLASE It's a nice trophy isn't it, dear? MR. BLASE Yeah, so what. I've lived fifty years without ever getting a trophy. DAVE You never got trophy, Papa? MR. BLASE No, never, and what's more... Dave interrupts. DAVE Here, Papa. I give you. You are 'Numero Uno.' King Papa. Dave hands him the trophy. Mr. Blase is stunned. He'takes it. Before he can even think to give it back Dave kisses him on both cheeks. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/15/78 MR. BLASE Don't do thatl How many times... DAVE Now I'have to go and take a shower. (starts to leave AND PAUSES) Such a big house and so few people. I wish I had plenty of fratelly and sorelly to greet me when I come home and to wave when I go. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 15 10 Cont.3 Dave leaves. Mrs. Blase sighs. She too would like a big family. Mr. Blase is holding the trophy and looking at it. Neapolitan music is heard coming from Dave's room. Mr. Blase has had it. MR. BLASE There'-s that ity music again. X I'm going to have it out with him now. He goes to Dave's room carrying the trophy with him. Mrs. Blase follows him a few steps and stops. She waits... listening. She is apprehensive. She wants to follow and help Dave out but she stays behind wringing her hands. Mr. Blase reappears looking quite stunned. He's holding the trophy in one hand along his side. MRS. BLASE What's the matter? MR. BLASE HE'S SHAVINGL MRS. BLASE Well, so what? MR. BLASE His legs, Evelyn. He's shaving X his legs. I saw him. His legs. MT. DAVE' S BATHROOM 11 Huamoing along with the record player Dave is shaving away at his overly-lathered legs. OUT 12 CUT TO: INT. DAVE'S ROOM - CLOSEUP - THE STEREO - DAY 13 A record is turning. On top of the dust cover we see an album cover: ENRICO GIMDNDI SINGS NEAPOLITAN FAVORITES. X The CAMERA MOVES SLOWLY AROUND his room. There are bicycle trophies everywhere. Posters of Italian racers. Posters of Italian movies. Magazine covers and newspaper clippings from Italian racing magazines. Bicycle parts: Spare wheels...cranks...pedals. Several bicycle jerseys hanging on the doorknob.. ENRICO GINSONDI sings during.this tour of Dave's room. Dave comes out of the shower humming along. A cat comes to greet him, meowing. DAVE Ah, there you are Fellini... Hungry, eh? Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 16 13 Cont. He goes to a drawer and takes out a can of "Chef Boy-ar-dee" spaghetti and meatballs. Still humming, he opens the can and dumps the food into a deep ashtray with "CINZANO" written on the sides. DAVE Mangiare...mangiare... Be looks at the posters of the bicycle riders. He looks in the mirror. He takes a comb and combs his hair back in the "continental" style. Then he smiles. He picks up a book: "ITALIAN PEASE BOOK" and lies down on the bed to read it. EXT. MR. BLASE'S USED CAR LOT - DAY 14 A big sign: "CAMPUS CARS." The car lot is nowhere near the campus but the sign is considered good business. All around the car lot are other signs: BEST DEAL IN TOWN. CARS WITH A COLLEGE EDUCATION. The cars themselves have signs on them: "GRAD SCHOOL SPECIAL." "ENGLISH MAJOR" PhD" "HOMECOMING QUEEN" "CUM LAUDE" "MAGNA CUM LAUDE." CLOSEUP - MR. BLASE AND CUSTOMER The CUSTOMER is a young college kid. Mr. Blase is showing him the "HOMECOMING QUEEN." MR. BLASE It gets thirty miles to a gallon, X of course the mileage you get may vary. It's a beaut, right? Right. You sure know how to pick them. Frankly this is the best car on the lot. Quality product. DAVE (o.s. ) Ciao, Papal Mr. Blase cringes. Looks up. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE He's on his bike across the street. He's waving. DAVE'S P.O.V. Mr. Blase is looking at his Customer pretending he has no idea who Dave is. He shrugs and turns his back and quickly glances over his shoulder as Dave rides away. 567 17 EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 15 Students are everywhere and so are classroom buildings. Tall, new, limestone structures resembling office buildings. Students sit on the steps outside the buildings. They are lying around on the grass and walking to and from classes. All of them have books in hand. The wind is blowing. CLOSEUP - DAVE He's sitting next to his bike on the grass and looking around at all of them. In his hands he has his Italian Phrase Book: the book being his admission ticket into this world. It's obvious he's feeling a little out of place, but he enjoys looking at the campus world. A campus Police Car drives by and Dave quickly hides his face in the book. Waits for it to pass and when he looks up he is struck by something. MED. SHOT - KATHERINE - DAVE'S P.0.V. She's coming out of a classroom building with a bunch of books and papers in her hands. The wind is blowing her hair back. The CAMERA ZOOMS IN ON her face, isolating her from all the others, just as Dave is doing. CLOSEUP - DAVE His mouth is open. He blinks once. He swallows. DAVE Mama mia I CUT TO: MED. SHOT - KATHERINE As she's walking, she transfers her books from one hand to the other. A piece of paper escapes her and flies away in the wind. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE He sees the paper fly away and jumps up. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE She tries to go after the paper but the traffic keeps her from crossing the street. The paper's flying away. She gives up, and turns toward the parking lot just as we see Dave on his Cont. 567 18 15 Cont. bicycle chasing after the paper. He cuts through the cars, he cuts in front of them. The horns blow. The brakes screech. All Dave sees is the paper. He's on a mission. He cuts through the pedestrians crossing the street maneuvering brilliantly. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - A COLLEGE GUY He's just walking. He sees the piece of paper flying around and grabs it casually. Just as he's ready to read it a hand appears in the FRAME and snatches it away from him. It's Dave, riding away with the piece of paper in his hand. The College Guy just stands and looks after him. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE - ON A MOTOR SCOOTER 16 She's driving home. In her rearview mirror she spots something. A bicycle rider. He seems to be gaining on her. She speeds up almost instinctively. CUT TO: ANGLE ON DAVE - ON THE BIKE He's. got the paper in his mouth and he speeds up too. He shifts his gear. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE She's riding along. She glances in the rearview mirror and sees Dave quite close behind her with the paper in his mouth. She shifts her gears too. She smiles a little. CUT TO: ANGLE ON DAVE He's close enough to shout. He opens his mouth to shout. The paper flies out but he quickly catches it in mid-air. DAVE Signorina... He has momentarily lost ground on her but he sticks the paper in his mouth and pours it on. CUT TO: Cont. 5 67 REVISED - "BAMBINO"_ 8/12/78 19 16 Cont. ANGLE ON KATHERINE She's crossing the street just as the light changes. Dave crosses on the red light. Once again he's nearly hit by several cars. He follows Katherine up the hill leading to Fraternity Row. He overtakes her just as. she's about to turn into the drive leading to her sorority. But Dave is there on her right preventing her-from turning. She too almost hits him. She slams on her brakes. Dave slams on his. They come to a dead stop. DAVE Signorina...You... He's handing her the paper but then he pauses and pulls it back just as she's about to take it. He wipes the saliva off the paper on his jersey, and then gives it to her. DAVE It is yours...no? She takes the paper and smiles. Then she laughs. KATHERINE You mean you've been chasing me with this? Well, that's redly something. Thank you very much. Talk about chivalry. Dave is just looking at her. She's never seen anyone look at her quite like that. She's a bit confused. KATHERINE Well, thanks again. DAVE Is nothing...niente...signorina. KATHERINE What're you...an exchange student or something? - DAVE Si. I am Italian. My name is ENRICO GIMONDI. X KATHERINE And mine is Katherine Maxwell. DAVE Ah, Katherinal Cont. 367 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 20 X 16 Cont.l She likes the sound of this. But the way Dave looks at her is unsettling. KATHERINE Well, thanks again, again. 'BYE DAVE Ciao,. Katherina. Dave'rides away. She looks after him. OUT 17- 19 EXT. MOOCHER'S HOUSE - DAY 20 There's a big CAMPUS REALTY sign outside the house with a FOR-SALE tacked over it. NANCY is walking up to the screen door. She knocks. Moocher appears holding a huge barbell at shoulder height. They smile nervously at each other. MOOCHER NANCYL NANCY I was just on my way to work... Come in. He pushes the door open with one end of the barbell and lets her in checking the street to make sure nobody saw her. She goes in. Moocher shuts the other door too. INT. MOOCHER'S HOUSE - DAY 20-A The two room house is empty except for a sleeping bag and a wooden foot locker -- Moocher resumes working with the barbells. NANCY You know what? MOOCHER No, what? NANCY I'm leaving home that's what. MOOCHER Whatl Where're you going? Cont. 567 AiEVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 w 21 X 20-A Cont. NANCY About five blocks south. I found a nice little house to rent. It's so cute I could scream. My folks said I could have some'of their furniture from the basement. Maybe you could give me a hand...moving. MOOCHER Sure...if...If I'm not busy. You know. How's the Job? NANCY You know what! Frank said if I keep up the good work it'll just be a matter of time before I become a head cashier. I should go now. MOOCHER Maybe...eh...Maybe I'll walk you to work. I have to go that way anyway. She smiles, happy at the prospect of a nice walk together. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 21 Dave and Cyril are going through the outskirts of the campus. Dave is riding his bike slowly. Cyril is jogging along. They go past

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Breaking Away Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "BAMBINO" [ PRODUCED AS "BREAKING AWAY" ] Written by Steve Tesich June 9, 1978 FADE IN EXT. QUARRY OUTSKIRTS - DAY 1 A narrow dirt road totally surrounded by thick vegetation. Here and there we see a huge block of stone blocking the road. The sun is shining but it has a hard time making it through the foliage. In the distance we see four guys walking TOWARD the CAMERA. There is a swagger to their walk. MII is singing. The others are humming along. The melody of the song of "0 Bury Me Not On the Lone Prairie" but it's a loose version. MIME AND WHEN I DIE...WON'T YOU BURY ME ON THE"PARKING LOT OF THE A AND P BLOW OUT THE CANDLES AND BLOW OUT TIE LAMPS AND LIGHT MY PYRE WITH MY TRADING STAMPS I HAD TWO BOOKS BUT I NEEDED THREE R TO DELIVER ME FROM THE A AND P. I HAD THREE BOOKS BUT I NEEDED FOUR TO GO TO HEAVEN AND REDEEM MY SOUL. By this time the four are in front of the CAMERA. Mike is handsome and well built. CYRIL is tall and skinny. MOOCHER is very short. DAVE, hanging back a little, is carrying a large trophy. DAVE Bravo, Mike! Bravo! Bellisimot CYRIL Did you really make all that up? They pass. ANOTHER ANGLE The presence of the quarry is felt much stronger now. More and more blocks of cut stone appear. The guys are dwarfed by them. They have to climb over some. MIKE I sent away for this stuff from Wyoming. It'll tell you everything. Since you don't believe me maybe you'll believe it when you see it. CYRIL And we'd work on the same ranch and sleep in the bunkhouse together, eh? Cont. 567 REVISED '"BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 2 X 1 Cont. MOOCHER That's the whole point. CYRIL I always miss the whole point. MOOCHER It'd be nice to have a paying Job again, that's for sure. DAVE Niente laborare. Niente mangare. MIKE What's that mean? DAVE You don't work. You don't eat. CYRIL That's a terrible thing to say. MED. SHOT The quarries are felt even more now. Walls of stone rise up around the guys. CYRIL Are you really going to shave your legs? DAVE Certo. All the Italians do it. MIKE That's some country. The women don't shave theirs. CYRIL STOP! (pauses as if THUNDERSTRUCK; hand on heart) It was somewhere along here that I lost all interest in life. Ah, right over there. I.saw Dolores Reineke and fat Marvin. Why? Why Dolores? MOOCHER They're married now. Coat. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 3 X 1 Cont.1 MIRE You see what I saved you from, Cyril. Had I not told you about the two of them you never would have followed them out here. CYRIL- Thank you, Mike. You made me lose all interest in life and I'm grateful. MIKE My brother says he saw you and Nancy. Moocher. MOOCHER When? MIKE Last Friday? MOOCHER Wasn't me. I'm not seeing her anymore. ANOTHER ANGLE They are now standing above a huge pool of water with sheer cliffs on three sides. Abandoned derricks loom in the distance. Dave is now humming softly a Neapolitan song. They begin the descent. CYRIL I kind of miss school. You know. This will be the first time nobody's going to ask us to write a theme about how we spent our summer. MIKE Remember the Tomb of the Unknown Substitute Teacher. MOOCHER She believed us too. MIKE (TEACHER'S VOICE) Sex spelled backwards x-es. CYRIL When you're sixteen they call it sweet sixteen. When you're eighteen you get to drink, see dirty movies and vote. But what the hell do you do when you're nineteen. 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 3-A X 1 Cont.2 MIKE You leave home. CYRIL My dad says Jesus never went further than fifty miles from his home. Mike is skipping down the rocks toward the water, taking clothes off as he does. The rest follow. MIKE And look what happened to him. Mike jumps into the water. Moocher and Cyril follow. Dave looks on. FADE THROUGH TO: DAVE'S P.O.V. 1-A The guys are swimming. Dave is holding his trophy casually, enjoying the beautiful day. He pulls out a little Italian Phrase Book. Finds what he wants. DAVE Oggi fa bello,-non e vero? MIKE Sure thing, partner. MOOCHER C'mon in. DAVE I read where this Italian coach said you should never swim after a race. CYRIL Who's swimming? I'm taking a leak. Moocher and Mike splash water at him and swim away. FADE THROUGH TO: 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 4 ROCKS BY THE WATER 1-B All four guys are sunbathing looking at the water. Deep X down, at the bottom of the quarry hole we see an old icebox. Mike is staring at it. The mood is one of total relaxation. MIRE Aren't you glad we got fired from The A and P. Right now we'd be X working. MOOCHER We didn't get fired. You got- fired. We quit. MIKE One for all and all for one. MOOCHER There aren't many places, you know, that'll hire all four of USE CYRIL You know what I'd like to be? MIKE Smart. CYRIL A cartoon of some kind. Man, X that'd be great. Like when they get hit on their head with a frying pan and their head looks like a frying pan-with a handle and everything. And then they go b-r-r-r. (shakes his head) And their head comes back to normal. That'd be great.. MIKE How come you're so stupid, Cyril. CYRIL I don't know. I think I have a dumb heredity. What's your excuse, Mike? Mike hits him hard on the arm. Cyril winces. Mike stands up. He makes sure they're all watching and dives in. The guys talk as they follow his progress. DAVE You hear from your folks, Moocher? 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 5 1-B Coat. MOOCHER .. Yeah, my Dad called. He says there's a lot more jobs in'Chicago. He hasn't got anything yet. Mike has reached the icebox. He opens the door. Goes in. Shuts the door. MOOCHER He wanted to know if the house was sold. They could use the money. DAVE You can come and live with me when it's sold. In Italy everybody lives together. All three of them are getting concerned about Mike. MOOCHER Ever since you won that Italian X bike you've been acting weird. You really think you are Italian. CYRIL I .wouldn't mind thinking I was s omebody myself. All three of them stand up. MOOCHER Maybe the door is stuck. God dammit! Moocher dives in. Dave and Cyril follow. Moocher swims down to the icebox, forces the door open. They surface. As soon as they hit the surface we hear: MIKE o.s.} Yoo--hoo . THE GUYS' P.O.V. They see Mike standing on top of the rock above them. MIKE It's got no back on it! He laughs triumphantly. He's ready to dive in again when he pauses and looks. High above where he stands on the other side of the quarry hole, we see several figures. The guys are swimming toward the rocks and looking at the figures too. 5667 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 6 1-B Cont.l CLOSEUP - MIKE His face has hardened as he looks at the figures. MIKE What the hell are they doing here? X ANOTHER ANGLE Dave, Moocher and Cyril are standing on the rocks below Mike. Mike is still on top of the rock. High above him are the College Kids. Three guys and three girls. One of the guys is standing on the ledge above the water. Our guys are looking at the College Kid on the ledge. He seems intent on diving into the water. It's a distance of at least eighty feet. He pushes off and dives in executing a beautiful somersault into a swan dive. CLOSEUP - OUR GUYS They are stunned. CLOSEUP - MIKE He's obviously envious.. He looks from the diver toward the guys and seems to feel his position undermined. CYRIL I've never seen anyone dive off from there. MIS BASTARDS[ (CLIMBING DOWN THE ROCK) They've got indoor pools and outdoor pools on the campus but they got to come here. (Joins the guys) It's my goddamn quarry. Cyril assumes a very dramatic posture. Sings to the theme from Exodus. CYRIL This hole! This quarry hole is mine! MIKE Hey, screw you, Cyril. Let's get out of here. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6 6. 8 7 EXT. QUARRY - DAY 1-C They are retracing their steps out of the quarry. Mike is leading. -Moocher is behind him. Dave is at the end. He's carrying a huge trophy casually. X MIKE o.s.) If they re going to come here then we'll go on .the campus. MED. SHOT - MIKE'S CAR 1-D A racing bicycle is on top of the car. The guys are in the car and the car is moving fast through the dirt road leading out of the quarries. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 2 Mike is speeding through the town. A huge billboard with the Marlboro Man whizzes past us.. INT. MIKE'S CAR - Mike looks angry. He's got an unlit cigarette in his mouth. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 3 A car lot is on the right. "CAMPUS CARS.", MOOCHER Isn't your dad working today? DAVE (o.s.) No, the doctor told him to take it easy. He's taking Sunday's off. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - CITY HALL - DAY 4 City Hall is on the left. CYRIL (O S ) That's where you go to get a marriage license, Mooch. MOOCHER (o.s.) Yeah, so what? Cyril laughs and then howls as he's hit. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" ; 6/16/78 8 OUT 5 X EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 6 Huge modern structures are looming in the distance in stark contrast to the town we just passed through. Mike's car-is speeding toward them. X EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 7 Mike's car turns into a street called Fraternity Row.- Most of the fraternities and sororities-are located along this stretch. Neat lawns line the area. The houses are enormous: an architectural mixture of old manor house and modern motel. The college kids are outside on the lawns. Some are reading. Girls in bikinis sunbathing. Guys washing their cars. Some other guys passing the football around. Transistor radios playing. Mike drives slowly. INT. MIKE'S CAR All the guys are looking out of the windows as if they were in a museum. Mike looks at the expensive cars along the way. Cyril looks at the Girls in bikinis. Moocher looks at the huge well-built guys. Dave just looks. CYRIL Going to college must do'something 'to girls' tits. Just look at them. Campussies and sororititties. (sticks head out; shouts to a couple of Girls) - Hi, there. What's your major? The Girls look up and kind of sneer. MOOCHER They sure look like they've got it made. MIKE That's because they're rich. DAVE Italians are all poor but they're happy. MIKE Maybe in Italy. Cont. 567 9 7 Cont. CYRIL I wonder what it's like to kiss a coed. I wonder about it a lot. Ahead of Mike's car we see two Guys and two Girls playing Frisbee. They are standing on the lawns and throwing the Frisbee to each other across the street. Mike's car is moving slowly forward when an ill-thrown Frisbee lands on the street. Mike sees it and speeds up. A Girl is running to get it but Mike gets there first and runs over it. Dave gets a quick look at the Girl as she stops"suddenly to keep from getting hit. The two college Guys run out and give' Mike the finger. He sees them in the rearview mirror. MIKE Hey, those bastards are giving us the finger. He slams on the brakes. MOOCHER Hey, c'mon, Mike. We're on their turf. Dave is looking back at the Girl. The two Guys are challenging Mike, motioning to him to come back. The two Girls are trying to talk them out of it. Mike-is gunning the car. MIKE They think they own the place. MOOCHER They do. CYRIL Besides, you've humiliated them enough. In ancient Japan when you ran over a samurai's Frisbee he had to commit suicide. Just as he laughs Mike shifts the car in reverse. The two Guys and Girls are standing in the middle of the road. The Guys are coming forward thinking Mike's going to stop, but Mike has no intention of stopping. The Girls and the Guys split as Mike's car roars between them. Once again Dave catches a fleeting glimpse of the Girl. Having scattered them, Mike makes a U-turn and drives away in the direction he came from. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" 8/12/78 10 7 Cont.1 CLOSEUP - THE COLLEGE KIDS The girl Dave saw, KATHERINE, is looking after the car holding a cracked Frisbee in her hand. The tall well-built guy next to her, ROD, her boyfriend, looks real upset. He is wearing a Little 500 T-shirt. ROD Dumbass cutters. Goddamn redneck retards. OUT 8 CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE 9 riding. A Neapolitan melody plays as Dave rides holding his trophy:. a romantic song of the south and not southern Indiana. The small houses could be Italian houses to Dave. The people sitting on porches and steps could be Italians. Dave waves like a returning hero. DAVE Buon giornol Buon giornol (SPOTS SOME SMALL CHILDREN) Hey, bambino. The people and the kids look at him like he's an oddball, but Dave does not notice. A woman is shaking a rug ahead of him, and she looks so Italian that he can't help but smile. A big blonde GIRL is coming out of the house dressed in a waitress outfit. She sees Dave. G= Dave...is Moocher home? But Dave just rides past her in a daydream. CLOSEUP - A COUPLE ON A PORCH They're older PEOPLE. The Man is drinking a beer. WOMAN Tsk. Tsk. He was as normal as pumpkin pie and'now look x at him. The Man lets out a long beer belch. WOMAN His poor parents. 5 67 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 11 _ X l f T. BLASE HOUSE - DAY 10 MR. BLASE is sitting at a kitchen table. MRS. BLASE is boiling water. Mr. Blase does not look happy. He's got a flyswatter in his hand. He sees a fly. Whack. He hits it. He misses. MR. BLASE It's that cologne he wears. MRS. BLASE Neapolitan Sunset, it's called. MR. BLASE Well, it smells like fruit punch to me and it attracts flies. Mrs. Blase comes over and pours some hot water into his cup. She takes a package of Sanka from her apron pocket and puts it in the saucer. MRS. BLASE There. Mrs. Blase looks at the table. MR. BLASE This is itl MRS. BLASE You have to watch your diet. MR. BLASE Diet, if anybody found out I was on the diet they'd laugh me out of town. A diet. MRS. BLASE You know what the doctor said. At your age... MR. BLASE At my agel What the hell do you mean at my age. MRS. BLASE He says you have a bad heart. MR. BLASE Yeah, but it's got nothing to do with my age. It's our son that's ruining my heart, Evelyn. What's he going to do? He wanted a year with those bums so I gave him a year. CONT 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 12 X 10 Cont. MRS. BLASE It hasn't been a year yet. MR. BLASE But, Evelyn. Look whatts happened to him. He's turned into a ity; It was funny at first but it's not funny anymore. Ciao, Papa. Ciao, Mama. Arrivaderchit That's ity talk. MRS. BLASE It's just hero worship. He says the Italians are the best bike racers in'the world and he... MR. BLASE This is America, Evelyn. Only paper boys ride bikes and they earn money doing it. MRS. BLASE Re did win his bicycle and he was quite sickly 'til he started racing around and in three years ._ ne's... MR. BLASE (INTERRUPTS) So now his body's fine but his mind is gone. He used to be a smart kid. I thought he was going to goy to college. MRS. BLASE I thought you didn't want him to go to college. MR. BLASE Why should he go to college? I didn't go to college. When I was nineteen I was working in the quarries ten hours a day. MRS. BLASE But most of the quarries have shut down. MR. BLASE Let him find another job. MRS. BLASE But there aren't any jobs. 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/15/78 13 10 Cont.1 MR. BLASE Let him look at least. Let him come home tired from looking. He's never tired. MRS. BLASE He's young. MR. BLASE When I was young I was tired. I had my own place at seventeen. MRS. BLASE He says Italian families stay together, MR. BLASE BUT WE ARE NOT ITALIANI MRS. BLASE I know. It's just that I come from a big family myself. . .and it really was kind of nice... (smiles, half EMBARRASSED) He thinks we should have another kid. MR. BLASE What?t Dave enters carrying his trophy. DAVE Ah, buon giorno, Papa. MR. BLASE I'm your goddamned father, not papa. DAVE Buon giorno, Mama. MR. BLASE She's your goddamn mother. Whatcha do -- win again? Dave opens the fridge and takes out a hunk of cheese and a hunk of salami and starts eating. Mr. Blase looks at him like a wolf and then he looks at half a grapefruit in front of him. He finds it unbearable to watch him chew. Cont. 567 REVISED - "B.ANBINO" - 8/15/78 14 10 Cont.2 DAVE Yes, the victory ...she was easy. But the promoter...'fondatore' ...He says the Italian team...it will come maybe soon...and I will race with the best...ITALIANO. X Like the nightingale they sing, like the eagles they fly. Mr. Blase can't bear to watch him eat. He's starved. MR. BLASE Speaking of flies...there's a helluva lot of flies following you into the house. DAVE Fly in Italian is 'mosca.' MR. BLASE Well in English it's a pest. And speaking of pests... Mrs. Blase senses an argument. MRS .. BLASE It's a nice trophy isn't it, dear? MR. BLASE Yeah, so what. I've lived fifty years without ever getting a trophy. DAVE You never got trophy, Papa? MR. BLASE No, never, and what's more... Dave interrupts. DAVE Here, Papa. I give you. You are 'Numero Uno.' King Papa. Dave hands him the trophy. Mr. Blase is stunned. He'takes it. Before he can even think to give it back Dave kisses him on both cheeks. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/15/78 MR. BLASE Don't do thatl How many times... DAVE Now I'have to go and take a shower. (starts to leave AND PAUSES) Such a big house and so few people. I wish I had plenty of fratelly and sorelly to greet me when I come home and to wave when I go. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 15 10 Cont.3 Dave leaves. Mrs. Blase sighs. She too would like a big family. Mr. Blase is holding the trophy and looking at it. Neapolitan music is heard coming from Dave's room. Mr. Blase has had it. MR. BLASE There'-s that ity music again. X I'm going to have it out with him now. He goes to Dave's room carrying the trophy with him. Mrs. Blase follows him a few steps and stops. She waits... listening. She is apprehensive. She wants to follow and help Dave out but she stays behind wringing her hands. Mr. Blase reappears looking quite stunned. He's holding the trophy in one hand along his side. MRS. BLASE What's the matter? MR. BLASE HE'S SHAVINGL MRS. BLASE Well, so what? MR. BLASE His legs, Evelyn. He's shaving X his legs. I saw him. His legs. MT. DAVE' S BATHROOM 11 Huamoing along with the record player Dave is shaving away at his overly-lathered legs. OUT 12 CUT TO: INT. DAVE'S ROOM - CLOSEUP - THE STEREO - DAY 13 A record is turning. On top of the dust cover we see an album cover: ENRICO GIMDNDI SINGS NEAPOLITAN FAVORITES. X The CAMERA MOVES SLOWLY AROUND his room. There are bicycle trophies everywhere. Posters of Italian racers. Posters of Italian movies. Magazine covers and newspaper clippings from Italian racing magazines. Bicycle parts: Spare wheels...cranks...pedals. Several bicycle jerseys hanging on the doorknob.. ENRICO GINSONDI sings during.this tour of Dave's room. Dave comes out of the shower humming along. A cat comes to greet him, meowing. DAVE Ah, there you are Fellini... Hungry, eh? Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 16 13 Cont. He goes to a drawer and takes out a can of "Chef Boy-ar-dee" spaghetti and meatballs. Still humming, he opens the can and dumps the food into a deep ashtray with "CINZANO" written on the sides. DAVE Mangiare...mangiare... Be looks at the posters of the bicycle riders. He looks in the mirror. He takes a comb and combs his hair back in the "continental" style. Then he smiles. He picks up a book: "ITALIAN PEASE BOOK" and lies down on the bed to read it. EXT. MR. BLASE'S USED CAR LOT - DAY 14 A big sign: "CAMPUS CARS." The car lot is nowhere near the campus but the sign is considered good business. All around the car lot are other signs: BEST DEAL IN TOWN. CARS WITH A COLLEGE EDUCATION. The cars themselves have signs on them: "GRAD SCHOOL SPECIAL." "ENGLISH MAJOR" PhD" "HOMECOMING QUEEN" "CUM LAUDE" "MAGNA CUM LAUDE." CLOSEUP - MR. BLASE AND CUSTOMER The CUSTOMER is a young college kid. Mr. Blase is showing him the "HOMECOMING QUEEN." MR. BLASE It gets thirty miles to a gallon, X of course the mileage you get may vary. It's a beaut, right? Right. You sure know how to pick them. Frankly this is the best car on the lot. Quality product. DAVE (o.s. ) Ciao, Papal Mr. Blase cringes. Looks up. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE He's on his bike across the street. He's waving. DAVE'S P.O.V. Mr. Blase is looking at his Customer pretending he has no idea who Dave is. He shrugs and turns his back and quickly glances over his shoulder as Dave rides away. 567 17 EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 15 Students are everywhere and so are classroom buildings. Tall, new, limestone structures resembling office buildings. Students sit on the steps outside the buildings. They are lying around on the grass and walking to and from classes. All of them have books in hand. The wind is blowing. CLOSEUP - DAVE He's sitting next to his bike on the grass and looking around at all of them. In his hands he has his Italian Phrase Book: the book being his admission ticket into this world. It's obvious he's feeling a little out of place, but he enjoys looking at the campus world. A campus Police Car drives by and Dave quickly hides his face in the book. Waits for it to pass and when he looks up he is struck by something. MED. SHOT - KATHERINE - DAVE'S P.0.V. She's coming out of a classroom building with a bunch of books and papers in her hands. The wind is blowing her hair back. The CAMERA ZOOMS IN ON her face, isolating her from all the others, just as Dave is doing. CLOSEUP - DAVE His mouth is open. He blinks once. He swallows. DAVE Mama mia I CUT TO: MED. SHOT - KATHERINE As she's walking, she transfers her books from one hand to the other. A piece of paper escapes her and flies away in the wind. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE He sees the paper fly away and jumps up. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE She tries to go after the paper but the traffic keeps her from crossing the street. The paper's flying away. She gives up, and turns toward the parking lot just as we see Dave on his Cont. 567 18 15 Cont. bicycle chasing after the paper. He cuts through the cars, he cuts in front of them. The horns blow. The brakes screech. All Dave sees is the paper. He's on a mission. He cuts through the pedestrians crossing the street maneuvering brilliantly. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - A COLLEGE GUY He's just walking. He sees the piece of paper flying around and grabs it casually. Just as he's ready to read it a hand appears in the FRAME and snatches it away from him. It's Dave, riding away with the piece of paper in his hand. The College Guy just stands and looks after him. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE - ON A MOTOR SCOOTER 16 She's driving home. In her rearview mirror she spots something. A bicycle rider. He seems to be gaining on her. She speeds up almost instinctively. CUT TO: ANGLE ON DAVE - ON THE BIKE He's. got the paper in his mouth and he speeds up too. He shifts his gear. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE She's riding along. She glances in the rearview mirror and sees Dave quite close behind her with the paper in his mouth. She shifts her gears too. She smiles a little. CUT TO: ANGLE ON DAVE He's close enough to shout. He opens his mouth to shout. The paper flies out but he quickly catches it in mid-air. DAVE Signorina... He has momentarily lost ground on her but he sticks the paper in his mouth and pours it on. CUT TO: Cont. 5 67 REVISED - "BAMBINO"_ 8/12/78 19 16 Cont. ANGLE ON KATHERINE She's crossing the street just as the light changes. Dave crosses on the red light. Once again he's nearly hit by several cars. He follows Katherine up the hill leading to Fraternity Row. He overtakes her just as. she's about to turn into the drive leading to her sorority. But Dave is there on her right preventing her-from turning. She too almost hits him. She slams on her brakes. Dave slams on his. They come to a dead stop. DAVE Signorina...You... He's handing her the paper but then he pauses and pulls it back just as she's about to take it. He wipes the saliva off the paper on his jersey, and then gives it to her. DAVE It is yours...no? She takes the paper and smiles. Then she laughs. KATHERINE You mean you've been chasing me with this? Well, that's redly something. Thank you very much. Talk about chivalry. Dave is just looking at her. She's never seen anyone look at her quite like that. She's a bit confused. KATHERINE Well, thanks again. DAVE Is nothing...niente...signorina. KATHERINE What're you...an exchange student or something? - DAVE Si. I am Italian. My name is ENRICO GIMONDI. X KATHERINE And mine is Katherine Maxwell. DAVE Ah, Katherinal Cont. 367 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 20 X 16 Cont.l She likes the sound of this. But the way Dave looks at her is unsettling. KATHERINE Well, thanks again, again. 'BYE DAVE Ciao,. Katherina. Dave'rides away. She looks after him. OUT 17- 19 EXT. MOOCHER'S HOUSE - DAY 20 There's a big CAMPUS REALTY sign outside the house with a FOR-SALE tacked over it. NANCY is walking up to the screen door. She knocks. Moocher appears holding a huge barbell at shoulder height. They smile nervously at each other. MOOCHER NANCYL NANCY I was just on my way to work... Come in. He pushes the door open with one end of the barbell and lets her in checking the street to make sure nobody saw her. She goes in. Moocher shuts the other door too. INT. MOOCHER'S HOUSE - DAY 20-A The two room house is empty except for a sleeping bag and a wooden foot locker -- Moocher resumes working with the barbells. NANCY You know what? MOOCHER No, what? NANCY I'm leaving home that's what. MOOCHER Whatl Where're you going? Cont. 567 AiEVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 w 21 X 20-A Cont. NANCY About five blocks south. I found a nice little house to rent. It's so cute I could scream. My folks said I could have some'of their furniture from the basement. Maybe you could give me a hand...moving. MOOCHER Sure...if...If I'm not busy. You know. How's the Job? NANCY You know what! Frank said if I keep up the good work it'll just be a matter of time before I become a head cashier. I should go now. MOOCHER Maybe...eh...Maybe I'll walk you to work. I have to go that way anyway. She smiles, happy at the prospect of a nice walk together. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 21 Dave and Cyril are going through the outskirts of the campus. Dave is riding his bike slowly. Cyril is jogging along. They go past

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Breaking Away Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "BAMBINO" [ PRODUCED AS "BREAKING AWAY" ] Written by Steve Tesich June 9, 1978 FADE IN EXT. QUARRY OUTSKIRTS - DAY 1 A narrow dirt road totally surrounded by thick vegetation. Here and there we see a huge block of stone blocking the road. The sun is shining but it has a hard time making it through the foliage. In the distance we see four guys walking TOWARD the CAMERA. There is a swagger to their walk. MII is singing. The others are humming along. The melody of the song of "0 Bury Me Not On the Lone Prairie" but it's a loose version. MIME AND WHEN I DIE...WON'T YOU BURY ME ON THE"PARKING LOT OF THE A AND P BLOW OUT THE CANDLES AND BLOW OUT TIE LAMPS AND LIGHT MY PYRE WITH MY TRADING STAMPS I HAD TWO BOOKS BUT I NEEDED THREE R TO DELIVER ME FROM THE A AND P. I HAD THREE BOOKS BUT I NEEDED FOUR TO GO TO HEAVEN AND REDEEM MY SOUL. By this time the four are in front of the CAMERA. Mike is handsome and well built. CYRIL is tall and skinny. MOOCHER is very short. DAVE, hanging back a little, is carrying a large trophy. DAVE Bravo, Mike! Bravo! Bellisimot CYRIL Did you really make all that up? They pass. ANOTHER ANGLE The presence of the quarry is felt much stronger now. More and more blocks of cut stone appear. The guys are dwarfed by them. They have to climb over some. MIKE I sent away for this stuff from Wyoming. It'll tell you everything. Since you don't believe me maybe you'll believe it when you see it. CYRIL And we'd work on the same ranch and sleep in the bunkhouse together, eh? Cont. 567 REVISED '"BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 2 X 1 Cont. MOOCHER That's the whole point. CYRIL I always miss the whole point. MOOCHER It'd be nice to have a paying Job again, that's for sure. DAVE Niente laborare. Niente mangare. MIKE What's that mean? DAVE You don't work. You don't eat. CYRIL That's a terrible thing to say. MED. SHOT The quarries are felt even more now. Walls of stone rise up around the guys. CYRIL Are you really going to shave your legs? DAVE Certo. All the Italians do it. MIKE That's some country. The women don't shave theirs. CYRIL STOP! (pauses as if THUNDERSTRUCK; hand on heart) It was somewhere along here that I lost all interest in life. Ah, right over there. I.saw Dolores Reineke and fat Marvin. Why? Why Dolores? MOOCHER They're married now. Coat. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 3 X 1 Cont.1 MIRE You see what I saved you from, Cyril. Had I not told you about the two of them you never would have followed them out here. CYRIL- Thank you, Mike. You made me lose all interest in life and I'm grateful. MIKE My brother says he saw you and Nancy. Moocher. MOOCHER When? MIKE Last Friday? MOOCHER Wasn't me. I'm not seeing her anymore. ANOTHER ANGLE They are now standing above a huge pool of water with sheer cliffs on three sides. Abandoned derricks loom in the distance. Dave is now humming softly a Neapolitan song. They begin the descent. CYRIL I kind of miss school. You know. This will be the first time nobody's going to ask us to write a theme about how we spent our summer. MIKE Remember the Tomb of the Unknown Substitute Teacher. MOOCHER She believed us too. MIKE (TEACHER'S VOICE) Sex spelled backwards x-es. CYRIL When you're sixteen they call it sweet sixteen. When you're eighteen you get to drink, see dirty movies and vote. But what the hell do you do when you're nineteen. 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 3-A X 1 Cont.2 MIKE You leave home. CYRIL My dad says Jesus never went further than fifty miles from his home. Mike is skipping down the rocks toward the water, taking clothes off as he does. The rest follow. MIKE And look what happened to him. Mike jumps into the water. Moocher and Cyril follow. Dave looks on. FADE THROUGH TO: DAVE'S P.O.V. 1-A The guys are swimming. Dave is holding his trophy casually, enjoying the beautiful day. He pulls out a little Italian Phrase Book. Finds what he wants. DAVE Oggi fa bello,-non e vero? MIKE Sure thing, partner. MOOCHER C'mon in. DAVE I read where this Italian coach said you should never swim after a race. CYRIL Who's swimming? I'm taking a leak. Moocher and Mike splash water at him and swim away. FADE THROUGH TO: 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 4 ROCKS BY THE WATER 1-B All four guys are sunbathing looking at the water. Deep X down, at the bottom of the quarry hole we see an old icebox. Mike is staring at it. The mood is one of total relaxation. MIRE Aren't you glad we got fired from The A and P. Right now we'd be X working. MOOCHER We didn't get fired. You got- fired. We quit. MIKE One for all and all for one. MOOCHER There aren't many places, you know, that'll hire all four of USE CYRIL You know what I'd like to be? MIKE Smart. CYRIL A cartoon of some kind. Man, X that'd be great. Like when they get hit on their head with a frying pan and their head looks like a frying pan-with a handle and everything. And then they go b-r-r-r. (shakes his head) And their head comes back to normal. That'd be great.. MIKE How come you're so stupid, Cyril. CYRIL I don't know. I think I have a dumb heredity. What's your excuse, Mike? Mike hits him hard on the arm. Cyril winces. Mike stands up. He makes sure they're all watching and dives in. The guys talk as they follow his progress. DAVE You hear from your folks, Moocher? 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 5 1-B Coat. MOOCHER .. Yeah, my Dad called. He says there's a lot more jobs in'Chicago. He hasn't got anything yet. Mike has reached the icebox. He opens the door. Goes in. Shuts the door. MOOCHER He wanted to know if the house was sold. They could use the money. DAVE You can come and live with me when it's sold. In Italy everybody lives together. All three of them are getting concerned about Mike. MOOCHER Ever since you won that Italian X bike you've been acting weird. You really think you are Italian. CYRIL I .wouldn't mind thinking I was s omebody myself. All three of them stand up. MOOCHER Maybe the door is stuck. God dammit! Moocher dives in. Dave and Cyril follow. Moocher swims down to the icebox, forces the door open. They surface. As soon as they hit the surface we hear: MIKE o.s.} Yoo--hoo . THE GUYS' P.O.V. They see Mike standing on top of the rock above them. MIKE It's got no back on it! He laughs triumphantly. He's ready to dive in again when he pauses and looks. High above where he stands on the other side of the quarry hole, we see several figures. The guys are swimming toward the rocks and looking at the figures too. 5667 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 6 1-B Cont.l CLOSEUP - MIKE His face has hardened as he looks at the figures. MIKE What the hell are they doing here? X ANOTHER ANGLE Dave, Moocher and Cyril are standing on the rocks below Mike. Mike is still on top of the rock. High above him are the College Kids. Three guys and three girls. One of the guys is standing on the ledge above the water. Our guys are looking at the College Kid on the ledge. He seems intent on diving into the water. It's a distance of at least eighty feet. He pushes off and dives in executing a beautiful somersault into a swan dive. CLOSEUP - OUR GUYS They are stunned. CLOSEUP - MIKE He's obviously envious.. He looks from the diver toward the guys and seems to feel his position undermined. CYRIL I've never seen anyone dive off from there. MIS BASTARDS[ (CLIMBING DOWN THE ROCK) They've got indoor pools and outdoor pools on the campus but they got to come here. (Joins the guys) It's my goddamn quarry. Cyril assumes a very dramatic posture. Sings to the theme from Exodus. CYRIL This hole! This quarry hole is mine! MIKE Hey, screw you, Cyril. Let's get out of here. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6 6. 8 7 EXT. QUARRY - DAY 1-C They are retracing their steps out of the quarry. Mike is leading. -Moocher is behind him. Dave is at the end. He's carrying a huge trophy casually. X MIKE o.s.) If they re going to come here then we'll go on .the campus. MED. SHOT - MIKE'S CAR 1-D A racing bicycle is on top of the car. The guys are in the car and the car is moving fast through the dirt road leading out of the quarries. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 2 Mike is speeding through the town. A huge billboard with the Marlboro Man whizzes past us.. INT. MIKE'S CAR - Mike looks angry. He's got an unlit cigarette in his mouth. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 3 A car lot is on the right. "CAMPUS CARS.", MOOCHER Isn't your dad working today? DAVE (o.s.) No, the doctor told him to take it easy. He's taking Sunday's off. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - CITY HALL - DAY 4 City Hall is on the left. CYRIL (O S ) That's where you go to get a marriage license, Mooch. MOOCHER (o.s.) Yeah, so what? Cyril laughs and then howls as he's hit. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" ; 6/16/78 8 OUT 5 X EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 6 Huge modern structures are looming in the distance in stark contrast to the town we just passed through. Mike's car-is speeding toward them. X EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 7 Mike's car turns into a street called Fraternity Row.- Most of the fraternities and sororities-are located along this stretch. Neat lawns line the area. The houses are enormous: an architectural mixture of old manor house and modern motel. The college kids are outside on the lawns. Some are reading. Girls in bikinis sunbathing. Guys washing their cars. Some other guys passing the football around. Transistor radios playing. Mike drives slowly. INT. MIKE'S CAR All the guys are looking out of the windows as if they were in a museum. Mike looks at the expensive cars along the way. Cyril looks at the Girls in bikinis. Moocher looks at the huge well-built guys. Dave just looks. CYRIL Going to college must do'something 'to girls' tits. Just look at them. Campussies and sororititties. (sticks head out; shouts to a couple of Girls) - Hi, there. What's your major? The Girls look up and kind of sneer. MOOCHER They sure look like they've got it made. MIKE That's because they're rich. DAVE Italians are all poor but they're happy. MIKE Maybe in Italy. Cont. 567 9 7 Cont. CYRIL I wonder what it's like to kiss a coed. I wonder about it a lot. Ahead of Mike's car we see two Guys and two Girls playing Frisbee. They are standing on the lawns and throwing the Frisbee to each other across the street. Mike's car is moving slowly forward when an ill-thrown Frisbee lands on the street. Mike sees it and speeds up. A Girl is running to get it but Mike gets there first and runs over it. Dave gets a quick look at the Girl as she stops"suddenly to keep from getting hit. The two college Guys run out and give' Mike the finger. He sees them in the rearview mirror. MIKE Hey, those bastards are giving us the finger. He slams on the brakes. MOOCHER Hey, c'mon, Mike. We're on their turf. Dave is looking back at the Girl. The two Guys are challenging Mike, motioning to him to come back. The two Girls are trying to talk them out of it. Mike-is gunning the car. MIKE They think they own the place. MOOCHER They do. CYRIL Besides, you've humiliated them enough. In ancient Japan when you ran over a samurai's Frisbee he had to commit suicide. Just as he laughs Mike shifts the car in reverse. The two Guys and Girls are standing in the middle of the road. The Guys are coming forward thinking Mike's going to stop, but Mike has no intention of stopping. The Girls and the Guys split as Mike's car roars between them. Once again Dave catches a fleeting glimpse of the Girl. Having scattered them, Mike makes a U-turn and drives away in the direction he came from. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" 8/12/78 10 7 Cont.1 CLOSEUP - THE COLLEGE KIDS The girl Dave saw, KATHERINE, is looking after the car holding a cracked Frisbee in her hand. The tall well-built guy next to her, ROD, her boyfriend, looks real upset. He is wearing a Little 500 T-shirt. ROD Dumbass cutters. Goddamn redneck retards. OUT 8 CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE 9 riding. A Neapolitan melody plays as Dave rides holding his trophy:. a romantic song of the south and not southern Indiana. The small houses could be Italian houses to Dave. The people sitting on porches and steps could be Italians. Dave waves like a returning hero. DAVE Buon giornol Buon giornol (SPOTS SOME SMALL CHILDREN) Hey, bambino. The people and the kids look at him like he's an oddball, but Dave does not notice. A woman is shaking a rug ahead of him, and she looks so Italian that he can't help but smile. A big blonde GIRL is coming out of the house dressed in a waitress outfit. She sees Dave. G= Dave...is Moocher home? But Dave just rides past her in a daydream. CLOSEUP - A COUPLE ON A PORCH They're older PEOPLE. The Man is drinking a beer. WOMAN Tsk. Tsk. He was as normal as pumpkin pie and'now look x at him. The Man lets out a long beer belch. WOMAN His poor parents. 5 67 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 11 _ X l f T. BLASE HOUSE - DAY 10 MR. BLASE is sitting at a kitchen table. MRS. BLASE is boiling water. Mr. Blase does not look happy. He's got a flyswatter in his hand. He sees a fly. Whack. He hits it. He misses. MR. BLASE It's that cologne he wears. MRS. BLASE Neapolitan Sunset, it's called. MR. BLASE Well, it smells like fruit punch to me and it attracts flies. Mrs. Blase comes over and pours some hot water into his cup. She takes a package of Sanka from her apron pocket and puts it in the saucer. MRS. BLASE There. Mrs. Blase looks at the table. MR. BLASE This is itl MRS. BLASE You have to watch your diet. MR. BLASE Diet, if anybody found out I was on the diet they'd laugh me out of town. A diet. MRS. BLASE You know what the doctor said. At your age... MR. BLASE At my agel What the hell do you mean at my age. MRS. BLASE He says you have a bad heart. MR. BLASE Yeah, but it's got nothing to do with my age. It's our son that's ruining my heart, Evelyn. What's he going to do? He wanted a year with those bums so I gave him a year. CONT 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 12 X 10 Cont. MRS. BLASE It hasn't been a year yet. MR. BLASE But, Evelyn. Look whatts happened to him. He's turned into a ity; It was funny at first but it's not funny anymore. Ciao, Papa. Ciao, Mama. Arrivaderchit That's ity talk. MRS. BLASE It's just hero worship. He says the Italians are the best bike racers in'the world and he... MR. BLASE This is America, Evelyn. Only paper boys ride bikes and they earn money doing it. MRS. BLASE Re did win his bicycle and he was quite sickly 'til he started racing around and in three years ._ ne's... MR. BLASE (INTERRUPTS) So now his body's fine but his mind is gone. He used to be a smart kid. I thought he was going to goy to college. MRS. BLASE I thought you didn't want him to go to college. MR. BLASE Why should he go to college? I didn't go to college. When I was nineteen I was working in the quarries ten hours a day. MRS. BLASE But most of the quarries have shut down. MR. BLASE Let him find another job. MRS. BLASE But there aren't any jobs. 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/15/78 13 10 Cont.1 MR. BLASE Let him look at least. Let him come home tired from looking. He's never tired. MRS. BLASE He's young. MR. BLASE When I was young I was tired. I had my own place at seventeen. MRS. BLASE He says Italian families stay together, MR. BLASE BUT WE ARE NOT ITALIANI MRS. BLASE I know. It's just that I come from a big family myself. . .and it really was kind of nice... (smiles, half EMBARRASSED) He thinks we should have another kid. MR. BLASE What?t Dave enters carrying his trophy. DAVE Ah, buon giorno, Papa. MR. BLASE I'm your goddamned father, not papa. DAVE Buon giorno, Mama. MR. BLASE She's your goddamn mother. Whatcha do -- win again? Dave opens the fridge and takes out a hunk of cheese and a hunk of salami and starts eating. Mr. Blase looks at him like a wolf and then he looks at half a grapefruit in front of him. He finds it unbearable to watch him chew. Cont. 567 REVISED - "B.ANBINO" - 8/15/78 14 10 Cont.2 DAVE Yes, the victory ...she was easy. But the promoter...'fondatore' ...He says the Italian team...it will come maybe soon...and I will race with the best...ITALIANO. X Like the nightingale they sing, like the eagles they fly. Mr. Blase can't bear to watch him eat. He's starved. MR. BLASE Speaking of flies...there's a helluva lot of flies following you into the house. DAVE Fly in Italian is 'mosca.' MR. BLASE Well in English it's a pest. And speaking of pests... Mrs. Blase senses an argument. MRS .. BLASE It's a nice trophy isn't it, dear? MR. BLASE Yeah, so what. I've lived fifty years without ever getting a trophy. DAVE You never got trophy, Papa? MR. BLASE No, never, and what's more... Dave interrupts. DAVE Here, Papa. I give you. You are 'Numero Uno.' King Papa. Dave hands him the trophy. Mr. Blase is stunned. He'takes it. Before he can even think to give it back Dave kisses him on both cheeks. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/15/78 MR. BLASE Don't do thatl How many times... DAVE Now I'have to go and take a shower. (starts to leave AND PAUSES) Such a big house and so few people. I wish I had plenty of fratelly and sorelly to greet me when I come home and to wave when I go. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 15 10 Cont.3 Dave leaves. Mrs. Blase sighs. She too would like a big family. Mr. Blase is holding the trophy and looking at it. Neapolitan music is heard coming from Dave's room. Mr. Blase has had it. MR. BLASE There'-s that ity music again. X I'm going to have it out with him now. He goes to Dave's room carrying the trophy with him. Mrs. Blase follows him a few steps and stops. She waits... listening. She is apprehensive. She wants to follow and help Dave out but she stays behind wringing her hands. Mr. Blase reappears looking quite stunned. He's holding the trophy in one hand along his side. MRS. BLASE What's the matter? MR. BLASE HE'S SHAVINGL MRS. BLASE Well, so what? MR. BLASE His legs, Evelyn. He's shaving X his legs. I saw him. His legs. MT. DAVE' S BATHROOM 11 Huamoing along with the record player Dave is shaving away at his overly-lathered legs. OUT 12 CUT TO: INT. DAVE'S ROOM - CLOSEUP - THE STEREO - DAY 13 A record is turning. On top of the dust cover we see an album cover: ENRICO GIMDNDI SINGS NEAPOLITAN FAVORITES. X The CAMERA MOVES SLOWLY AROUND his room. There are bicycle trophies everywhere. Posters of Italian racers. Posters of Italian movies. Magazine covers and newspaper clippings from Italian racing magazines. Bicycle parts: Spare wheels...cranks...pedals. Several bicycle jerseys hanging on the doorknob.. ENRICO GINSONDI sings during.this tour of Dave's room. Dave comes out of the shower humming along. A cat comes to greet him, meowing. DAVE Ah, there you are Fellini... Hungry, eh? Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 16 13 Cont. He goes to a drawer and takes out a can of "Chef Boy-ar-dee" spaghetti and meatballs. Still humming, he opens the can and dumps the food into a deep ashtray with "CINZANO" written on the sides. DAVE Mangiare...mangiare... Be looks at the posters of the bicycle riders. He looks in the mirror. He takes a comb and combs his hair back in the "continental" style. Then he smiles. He picks up a book: "ITALIAN PEASE BOOK" and lies down on the bed to read it. EXT. MR. BLASE'S USED CAR LOT - DAY 14 A big sign: "CAMPUS CARS." The car lot is nowhere near the campus but the sign is considered good business. All around the car lot are other signs: BEST DEAL IN TOWN. CARS WITH A COLLEGE EDUCATION. The cars themselves have signs on them: "GRAD SCHOOL SPECIAL." "ENGLISH MAJOR" PhD" "HOMECOMING QUEEN" "CUM LAUDE" "MAGNA CUM LAUDE." CLOSEUP - MR. BLASE AND CUSTOMER The CUSTOMER is a young college kid. Mr. Blase is showing him the "HOMECOMING QUEEN." MR. BLASE It gets thirty miles to a gallon, X of course the mileage you get may vary. It's a beaut, right? Right. You sure know how to pick them. Frankly this is the best car on the lot. Quality product. DAVE (o.s. ) Ciao, Papal Mr. Blase cringes. Looks up. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE He's on his bike across the street. He's waving. DAVE'S P.O.V. Mr. Blase is looking at his Customer pretending he has no idea who Dave is. He shrugs and turns his back and quickly glances over his shoulder as Dave rides away. 567 17 EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 15 Students are everywhere and so are classroom buildings. Tall, new, limestone structures resembling office buildings. Students sit on the steps outside the buildings. They are lying around on the grass and walking to and from classes. All of them have books in hand. The wind is blowing. CLOSEUP - DAVE He's sitting next to his bike on the grass and looking around at all of them. In his hands he has his Italian Phrase Book: the book being his admission ticket into this world. It's obvious he's feeling a little out of place, but he enjoys looking at the campus world. A campus Police Car drives by and Dave quickly hides his face in the book. Waits for it to pass and when he looks up he is struck by something. MED. SHOT - KATHERINE - DAVE'S P.0.V. She's coming out of a classroom building with a bunch of books and papers in her hands. The wind is blowing her hair back. The CAMERA ZOOMS IN ON her face, isolating her from all the others, just as Dave is doing. CLOSEUP - DAVE His mouth is open. He blinks once. He swallows. DAVE Mama mia I CUT TO: MED. SHOT - KATHERINE As she's walking, she transfers her books from one hand to the other. A piece of paper escapes her and flies away in the wind. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE He sees the paper fly away and jumps up. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE She tries to go after the paper but the traffic keeps her from crossing the street. The paper's flying away. She gives up, and turns toward the parking lot just as we see Dave on his Cont. 567 18 15 Cont. bicycle chasing after the paper. He cuts through the cars, he cuts in front of them. The horns blow. The brakes screech. All Dave sees is the paper. He's on a mission. He cuts through the pedestrians crossing the street maneuvering brilliantly. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - A COLLEGE GUY He's just walking. He sees the piece of paper flying around and grabs it casually. Just as he's ready to read it a hand appears in the FRAME and snatches it away from him. It's Dave, riding away with the piece of paper in his hand. The College Guy just stands and looks after him. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE - ON A MOTOR SCOOTER 16 She's driving home. In her rearview mirror she spots something. A bicycle rider. He seems to be gaining on her. She speeds up almost instinctively. CUT TO: ANGLE ON DAVE - ON THE BIKE He's. got the paper in his mouth and he speeds up too. He shifts his gear. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE She's riding along. She glances in the rearview mirror and sees Dave quite close behind her with the paper in his mouth. She shifts her gears too. She smiles a little. CUT TO: ANGLE ON DAVE He's close enough to shout. He opens his mouth to shout. The paper flies out but he quickly catches it in mid-air. DAVE Signorina... He has momentarily lost ground on her but he sticks the paper in his mouth and pours it on. CUT TO: Cont. 5 67 REVISED - "BAMBINO"_ 8/12/78 19 16 Cont. ANGLE ON KATHERINE She's crossing the street just as the light changes. Dave crosses on the red light. Once again he's nearly hit by several cars. He follows Katherine up the hill leading to Fraternity Row. He overtakes her just as. she's about to turn into the drive leading to her sorority. But Dave is there on her right preventing her-from turning. She too almost hits him. She slams on her brakes. Dave slams on his. They come to a dead stop. DAVE Signorina...You... He's handing her the paper but then he pauses and pulls it back just as she's about to take it. He wipes the saliva off the paper on his jersey, and then gives it to her. DAVE It is yours...no? She takes the paper and smiles. Then she laughs. KATHERINE You mean you've been chasing me with this? Well, that's redly something. Thank you very much. Talk about chivalry. Dave is just looking at her. She's never seen anyone look at her quite like that. She's a bit confused. KATHERINE Well, thanks again. DAVE Is nothing...niente...signorina. KATHERINE What're you...an exchange student or something? - DAVE Si. I am Italian. My name is ENRICO GIMONDI. X KATHERINE And mine is Katherine Maxwell. DAVE Ah, Katherinal Cont. 367 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 20 X 16 Cont.l She likes the sound of this. But the way Dave looks at her is unsettling. KATHERINE Well, thanks again, again. 'BYE DAVE Ciao,. Katherina. Dave'rides away. She looks after him. OUT 17- 19 EXT. MOOCHER'S HOUSE - DAY 20 There's a big CAMPUS REALTY sign outside the house with a FOR-SALE tacked over it. NANCY is walking up to the screen door. She knocks. Moocher appears holding a huge barbell at shoulder height. They smile nervously at each other. MOOCHER NANCYL NANCY I was just on my way to work... Come in. He pushes the door open with one end of the barbell and lets her in checking the street to make sure nobody saw her. She goes in. Moocher shuts the other door too. INT. MOOCHER'S HOUSE - DAY 20-A The two room house is empty except for a sleeping bag and a wooden foot locker -- Moocher resumes working with the barbells. NANCY You know what? MOOCHER No, what? NANCY I'm leaving home that's what. MOOCHER Whatl Where're you going? Cont. 567 AiEVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 w 21 X 20-A Cont. NANCY About five blocks south. I found a nice little house to rent. It's so cute I could scream. My folks said I could have some'of their furniture from the basement. Maybe you could give me a hand...moving. MOOCHER Sure...if...If I'm not busy. You know. How's the Job? NANCY You know what! Frank said if I keep up the good work it'll just be a matter of time before I become a head cashier. I should go now. MOOCHER Maybe...eh...Maybe I'll walk you to work. I have to go that way anyway. She smiles, happy at the prospect of a nice walk together. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 21 Dave and Cyril are going through the outskirts of the campus. Dave is riding his bike slowly. Cyril is jogging along. They go past

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Breaking Away Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "BAMBINO" [ PRODUCED AS "BREAKING AWAY" ] Written by Steve Tesich June 9, 1978 FADE IN EXT. QUARRY OUTSKIRTS - DAY 1 A narrow dirt road totally surrounded by thick vegetation. Here and there we see a huge block of stone blocking the road. The sun is shining but it has a hard time making it through the foliage. In the distance we see four guys walking TOWARD the CAMERA. There is a swagger to their walk. MII is singing. The others are humming along. The melody of the song of "0 Bury Me Not On the Lone Prairie" but it's a loose version. MIME AND WHEN I DIE...WON'T YOU BURY ME ON THE"PARKING LOT OF THE A AND P BLOW OUT THE CANDLES AND BLOW OUT TIE LAMPS AND LIGHT MY PYRE WITH MY TRADING STAMPS I HAD TWO BOOKS BUT I NEEDED THREE R TO DELIVER ME FROM THE A AND P. I HAD THREE BOOKS BUT I NEEDED FOUR TO GO TO HEAVEN AND REDEEM MY SOUL. By this time the four are in front of the CAMERA. Mike is handsome and well built. CYRIL is tall and skinny. MOOCHER is very short. DAVE, hanging back a little, is carrying a large trophy. DAVE Bravo, Mike! Bravo! Bellisimot CYRIL Did you really make all that up? They pass. ANOTHER ANGLE The presence of the quarry is felt much stronger now. More and more blocks of cut stone appear. The guys are dwarfed by them. They have to climb over some. MIKE I sent away for this stuff from Wyoming. It'll tell you everything. Since you don't believe me maybe you'll believe it when you see it. CYRIL And we'd work on the same ranch and sleep in the bunkhouse together, eh? Cont. 567 REVISED '"BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 2 X 1 Cont. MOOCHER That's the whole point. CYRIL I always miss the whole point. MOOCHER It'd be nice to have a paying Job again, that's for sure. DAVE Niente laborare. Niente mangare. MIKE What's that mean? DAVE You don't work. You don't eat. CYRIL That's a terrible thing to say. MED. SHOT The quarries are felt even more now. Walls of stone rise up around the guys. CYRIL Are you really going to shave your legs? DAVE Certo. All the Italians do it. MIKE That's some country. The women don't shave theirs. CYRIL STOP! (pauses as if THUNDERSTRUCK; hand on heart) It was somewhere along here that I lost all interest in life. Ah, right over there. I.saw Dolores Reineke and fat Marvin. Why? Why Dolores? MOOCHER They're married now. Coat. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 3 X 1 Cont.1 MIRE You see what I saved you from, Cyril. Had I not told you about the two of them you never would have followed them out here. CYRIL- Thank you, Mike. You made me lose all interest in life and I'm grateful. MIKE My brother says he saw you and Nancy. Moocher. MOOCHER When? MIKE Last Friday? MOOCHER Wasn't me. I'm not seeing her anymore. ANOTHER ANGLE They are now standing above a huge pool of water with sheer cliffs on three sides. Abandoned derricks loom in the distance. Dave is now humming softly a Neapolitan song. They begin the descent. CYRIL I kind of miss school. You know. This will be the first time nobody's going to ask us to write a theme about how we spent our summer. MIKE Remember the Tomb of the Unknown Substitute Teacher. MOOCHER She believed us too. MIKE (TEACHER'S VOICE) Sex spelled backwards x-es. CYRIL When you're sixteen they call it sweet sixteen. When you're eighteen you get to drink, see dirty movies and vote. But what the hell do you do when you're nineteen. 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 3-A X 1 Cont.2 MIKE You leave home. CYRIL My dad says Jesus never went further than fifty miles from his home. Mike is skipping down the rocks toward the water, taking clothes off as he does. The rest follow. MIKE And look what happened to him. Mike jumps into the water. Moocher and Cyril follow. Dave looks on. FADE THROUGH TO: DAVE'S P.O.V. 1-A The guys are swimming. Dave is holding his trophy casually, enjoying the beautiful day. He pulls out a little Italian Phrase Book. Finds what he wants. DAVE Oggi fa bello,-non e vero? MIKE Sure thing, partner. MOOCHER C'mon in. DAVE I read where this Italian coach said you should never swim after a race. CYRIL Who's swimming? I'm taking a leak. Moocher and Mike splash water at him and swim away. FADE THROUGH TO: 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 4 ROCKS BY THE WATER 1-B All four guys are sunbathing looking at the water. Deep X down, at the bottom of the quarry hole we see an old icebox. Mike is staring at it. The mood is one of total relaxation. MIRE Aren't you glad we got fired from The A and P. Right now we'd be X working. MOOCHER We didn't get fired. You got- fired. We quit. MIKE One for all and all for one. MOOCHER There aren't many places, you know, that'll hire all four of USE CYRIL You know what I'd like to be? MIKE Smart. CYRIL A cartoon of some kind. Man, X that'd be great. Like when they get hit on their head with a frying pan and their head looks like a frying pan-with a handle and everything. And then they go b-r-r-r. (shakes his head) And their head comes back to normal. That'd be great.. MIKE How come you're so stupid, Cyril. CYRIL I don't know. I think I have a dumb heredity. What's your excuse, Mike? Mike hits him hard on the arm. Cyril winces. Mike stands up. He makes sure they're all watching and dives in. The guys talk as they follow his progress. DAVE You hear from your folks, Moocher? 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 5 1-B Coat. MOOCHER .. Yeah, my Dad called. He says there's a lot more jobs in'Chicago. He hasn't got anything yet. Mike has reached the icebox. He opens the door. Goes in. Shuts the door. MOOCHER He wanted to know if the house was sold. They could use the money. DAVE You can come and live with me when it's sold. In Italy everybody lives together. All three of them are getting concerned about Mike. MOOCHER Ever since you won that Italian X bike you've been acting weird. You really think you are Italian. CYRIL I .wouldn't mind thinking I was s omebody myself. All three of them stand up. MOOCHER Maybe the door is stuck. God dammit! Moocher dives in. Dave and Cyril follow. Moocher swims down to the icebox, forces the door open. They surface. As soon as they hit the surface we hear: MIKE o.s.} Yoo--hoo . THE GUYS' P.O.V. They see Mike standing on top of the rock above them. MIKE It's got no back on it! He laughs triumphantly. He's ready to dive in again when he pauses and looks. High above where he stands on the other side of the quarry hole, we see several figures. The guys are swimming toward the rocks and looking at the figures too. 5667 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 6 1-B Cont.l CLOSEUP - MIKE His face has hardened as he looks at the figures. MIKE What the hell are they doing here? X ANOTHER ANGLE Dave, Moocher and Cyril are standing on the rocks below Mike. Mike is still on top of the rock. High above him are the College Kids. Three guys and three girls. One of the guys is standing on the ledge above the water. Our guys are looking at the College Kid on the ledge. He seems intent on diving into the water. It's a distance of at least eighty feet. He pushes off and dives in executing a beautiful somersault into a swan dive. CLOSEUP - OUR GUYS They are stunned. CLOSEUP - MIKE He's obviously envious.. He looks from the diver toward the guys and seems to feel his position undermined. CYRIL I've never seen anyone dive off from there. MIS BASTARDS[ (CLIMBING DOWN THE ROCK) They've got indoor pools and outdoor pools on the campus but they got to come here. (Joins the guys) It's my goddamn quarry. Cyril assumes a very dramatic posture. Sings to the theme from Exodus. CYRIL This hole! This quarry hole is mine! MIKE Hey, screw you, Cyril. Let's get out of here. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6 6. 8 7 EXT. QUARRY - DAY 1-C They are retracing their steps out of the quarry. Mike is leading. -Moocher is behind him. Dave is at the end. He's carrying a huge trophy casually. X MIKE o.s.) If they re going to come here then we'll go on .the campus. MED. SHOT - MIKE'S CAR 1-D A racing bicycle is on top of the car. The guys are in the car and the car is moving fast through the dirt road leading out of the quarries. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 2 Mike is speeding through the town. A huge billboard with the Marlboro Man whizzes past us.. INT. MIKE'S CAR - Mike looks angry. He's got an unlit cigarette in his mouth. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 3 A car lot is on the right. "CAMPUS CARS.", MOOCHER Isn't your dad working today? DAVE (o.s.) No, the doctor told him to take it easy. He's taking Sunday's off. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - CITY HALL - DAY 4 City Hall is on the left. CYRIL (O S ) That's where you go to get a marriage license, Mooch. MOOCHER (o.s.) Yeah, so what? Cyril laughs and then howls as he's hit. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" ; 6/16/78 8 OUT 5 X EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 6 Huge modern structures are looming in the distance in stark contrast to the town we just passed through. Mike's car-is speeding toward them. X EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 7 Mike's car turns into a street called Fraternity Row.- Most of the fraternities and sororities-are located along this stretch. Neat lawns line the area. The houses are enormous: an architectural mixture of old manor house and modern motel. The college kids are outside on the lawns. Some are reading. Girls in bikinis sunbathing. Guys washing their cars. Some other guys passing the football around. Transistor radios playing. Mike drives slowly. INT. MIKE'S CAR All the guys are looking out of the windows as if they were in a museum. Mike looks at the expensive cars along the way. Cyril looks at the Girls in bikinis. Moocher looks at the huge well-built guys. Dave just looks. CYRIL Going to college must do'something 'to girls' tits. Just look at them. Campussies and sororititties. (sticks head out; shouts to a couple of Girls) - Hi, there. What's your major? The Girls look up and kind of sneer. MOOCHER They sure look like they've got it made. MIKE That's because they're rich. DAVE Italians are all poor but they're happy. MIKE Maybe in Italy. Cont. 567 9 7 Cont. CYRIL I wonder what it's like to kiss a coed. I wonder about it a lot. Ahead of Mike's car we see two Guys and two Girls playing Frisbee. They are standing on the lawns and throwing the Frisbee to each other across the street. Mike's car is moving slowly forward when an ill-thrown Frisbee lands on the street. Mike sees it and speeds up. A Girl is running to get it but Mike gets there first and runs over it. Dave gets a quick look at the Girl as she stops"suddenly to keep from getting hit. The two college Guys run out and give' Mike the finger. He sees them in the rearview mirror. MIKE Hey, those bastards are giving us the finger. He slams on the brakes. MOOCHER Hey, c'mon, Mike. We're on their turf. Dave is looking back at the Girl. The two Guys are challenging Mike, motioning to him to come back. The two Girls are trying to talk them out of it. Mike-is gunning the car. MIKE They think they own the place. MOOCHER They do. CYRIL Besides, you've humiliated them enough. In ancient Japan when you ran over a samurai's Frisbee he had to commit suicide. Just as he laughs Mike shifts the car in reverse. The two Guys and Girls are standing in the middle of the road. The Guys are coming forward thinking Mike's going to stop, but Mike has no intention of stopping. The Girls and the Guys split as Mike's car roars between them. Once again Dave catches a fleeting glimpse of the Girl. Having scattered them, Mike makes a U-turn and drives away in the direction he came from. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" 8/12/78 10 7 Cont.1 CLOSEUP - THE COLLEGE KIDS The girl Dave saw, KATHERINE, is looking after the car holding a cracked Frisbee in her hand. The tall well-built guy next to her, ROD, her boyfriend, looks real upset. He is wearing a Little 500 T-shirt. ROD Dumbass cutters. Goddamn redneck retards. OUT 8 CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE 9 riding. A Neapolitan melody plays as Dave rides holding his trophy:. a romantic song of the south and not southern Indiana. The small houses could be Italian houses to Dave. The people sitting on porches and steps could be Italians. Dave waves like a returning hero. DAVE Buon giornol Buon giornol (SPOTS SOME SMALL CHILDREN) Hey, bambino. The people and the kids look at him like he's an oddball, but Dave does not notice. A woman is shaking a rug ahead of him, and she looks so Italian that he can't help but smile. A big blonde GIRL is coming out of the house dressed in a waitress outfit. She sees Dave. G= Dave...is Moocher home? But Dave just rides past her in a daydream. CLOSEUP - A COUPLE ON A PORCH They're older PEOPLE. The Man is drinking a beer. WOMAN Tsk. Tsk. He was as normal as pumpkin pie and'now look x at him. The Man lets out a long beer belch. WOMAN His poor parents. 5 67 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 11 _ X l f T. BLASE HOUSE - DAY 10 MR. BLASE is sitting at a kitchen table. MRS. BLASE is boiling water. Mr. Blase does not look happy. He's got a flyswatter in his hand. He sees a fly. Whack. He hits it. He misses. MR. BLASE It's that cologne he wears. MRS. BLASE Neapolitan Sunset, it's called. MR. BLASE Well, it smells like fruit punch to me and it attracts flies. Mrs. Blase comes over and pours some hot water into his cup. She takes a package of Sanka from her apron pocket and puts it in the saucer. MRS. BLASE There. Mrs. Blase looks at the table. MR. BLASE This is itl MRS. BLASE You have to watch your diet. MR. BLASE Diet, if anybody found out I was on the diet they'd laugh me out of town. A diet. MRS. BLASE You know what the doctor said. At your age... MR. BLASE At my agel What the hell do you mean at my age. MRS. BLASE He says you have a bad heart. MR. BLASE Yeah, but it's got nothing to do with my age. It's our son that's ruining my heart, Evelyn. What's he going to do? He wanted a year with those bums so I gave him a year. CONT 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 12 X 10 Cont. MRS. BLASE It hasn't been a year yet. MR. BLASE But, Evelyn. Look whatts happened to him. He's turned into a ity; It was funny at first but it's not funny anymore. Ciao, Papa. Ciao, Mama. Arrivaderchit That's ity talk. MRS. BLASE It's just hero worship. He says the Italians are the best bike racers in'the world and he... MR. BLASE This is America, Evelyn. Only paper boys ride bikes and they earn money doing it. MRS. BLASE Re did win his bicycle and he was quite sickly 'til he started racing around and in three years ._ ne's... MR. BLASE (INTERRUPTS) So now his body's fine but his mind is gone. He used to be a smart kid. I thought he was going to goy to college. MRS. BLASE I thought you didn't want him to go to college. MR. BLASE Why should he go to college? I didn't go to college. When I was nineteen I was working in the quarries ten hours a day. MRS. BLASE But most of the quarries have shut down. MR. BLASE Let him find another job. MRS. BLASE But there aren't any jobs. 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/15/78 13 10 Cont.1 MR. BLASE Let him look at least. Let him come home tired from looking. He's never tired. MRS. BLASE He's young. MR. BLASE When I was young I was tired. I had my own place at seventeen. MRS. BLASE He says Italian families stay together, MR. BLASE BUT WE ARE NOT ITALIANI MRS. BLASE I know. It's just that I come from a big family myself. . .and it really was kind of nice... (smiles, half EMBARRASSED) He thinks we should have another kid. MR. BLASE What?t Dave enters carrying his trophy. DAVE Ah, buon giorno, Papa. MR. BLASE I'm your goddamned father, not papa. DAVE Buon giorno, Mama. MR. BLASE She's your goddamn mother. Whatcha do -- win again? Dave opens the fridge and takes out a hunk of cheese and a hunk of salami and starts eating. Mr. Blase looks at him like a wolf and then he looks at half a grapefruit in front of him. He finds it unbearable to watch him chew. Cont. 567 REVISED - "B.ANBINO" - 8/15/78 14 10 Cont.2 DAVE Yes, the victory ...she was easy. But the promoter...'fondatore' ...He says the Italian team...it will come maybe soon...and I will race with the best...ITALIANO. X Like the nightingale they sing, like the eagles they fly. Mr. Blase can't bear to watch him eat. He's starved. MR. BLASE Speaking of flies...there's a helluva lot of flies following you into the house. DAVE Fly in Italian is 'mosca.' MR. BLASE Well in English it's a pest. And speaking of pests... Mrs. Blase senses an argument. MRS .. BLASE It's a nice trophy isn't it, dear? MR. BLASE Yeah, so what. I've lived fifty years without ever getting a trophy. DAVE You never got trophy, Papa? MR. BLASE No, never, and what's more... Dave interrupts. DAVE Here, Papa. I give you. You are 'Numero Uno.' King Papa. Dave hands him the trophy. Mr. Blase is stunned. He'takes it. Before he can even think to give it back Dave kisses him on both cheeks. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/15/78 MR. BLASE Don't do thatl How many times... DAVE Now I'have to go and take a shower. (starts to leave AND PAUSES) Such a big house and so few people. I wish I had plenty of fratelly and sorelly to greet me when I come home and to wave when I go. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 15 10 Cont.3 Dave leaves. Mrs. Blase sighs. She too would like a big family. Mr. Blase is holding the trophy and looking at it. Neapolitan music is heard coming from Dave's room. Mr. Blase has had it. MR. BLASE There'-s that ity music again. X I'm going to have it out with him now. He goes to Dave's room carrying the trophy with him. Mrs. Blase follows him a few steps and stops. She waits... listening. She is apprehensive. She wants to follow and help Dave out but she stays behind wringing her hands. Mr. Blase reappears looking quite stunned. He's holding the trophy in one hand along his side. MRS. BLASE What's the matter? MR. BLASE HE'S SHAVINGL MRS. BLASE Well, so what? MR. BLASE His legs, Evelyn. He's shaving X his legs. I saw him. His legs. MT. DAVE' S BATHROOM 11 Huamoing along with the record player Dave is shaving away at his overly-lathered legs. OUT 12 CUT TO: INT. DAVE'S ROOM - CLOSEUP - THE STEREO - DAY 13 A record is turning. On top of the dust cover we see an album cover: ENRICO GIMDNDI SINGS NEAPOLITAN FAVORITES. X The CAMERA MOVES SLOWLY AROUND his room. There are bicycle trophies everywhere. Posters of Italian racers. Posters of Italian movies. Magazine covers and newspaper clippings from Italian racing magazines. Bicycle parts: Spare wheels...cranks...pedals. Several bicycle jerseys hanging on the doorknob.. ENRICO GINSONDI sings during.this tour of Dave's room. Dave comes out of the shower humming along. A cat comes to greet him, meowing. DAVE Ah, there you are Fellini... Hungry, eh? Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 16 13 Cont. He goes to a drawer and takes out a can of "Chef Boy-ar-dee" spaghetti and meatballs. Still humming, he opens the can and dumps the food into a deep ashtray with "CINZANO" written on the sides. DAVE Mangiare...mangiare... Be looks at the posters of the bicycle riders. He looks in the mirror. He takes a comb and combs his hair back in the "continental" style. Then he smiles. He picks up a book: "ITALIAN PEASE BOOK" and lies down on the bed to read it. EXT. MR. BLASE'S USED CAR LOT - DAY 14 A big sign: "CAMPUS CARS." The car lot is nowhere near the campus but the sign is considered good business. All around the car lot are other signs: BEST DEAL IN TOWN. CARS WITH A COLLEGE EDUCATION. The cars themselves have signs on them: "GRAD SCHOOL SPECIAL." "ENGLISH MAJOR" PhD" "HOMECOMING QUEEN" "CUM LAUDE" "MAGNA CUM LAUDE." CLOSEUP - MR. BLASE AND CUSTOMER The CUSTOMER is a young college kid. Mr. Blase is showing him the "HOMECOMING QUEEN." MR. BLASE It gets thirty miles to a gallon, X of course the mileage you get may vary. It's a beaut, right? Right. You sure know how to pick them. Frankly this is the best car on the lot. Quality product. DAVE (o.s. ) Ciao, Papal Mr. Blase cringes. Looks up. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE He's on his bike across the street. He's waving. DAVE'S P.O.V. Mr. Blase is looking at his Customer pretending he has no idea who Dave is. He shrugs and turns his back and quickly glances over his shoulder as Dave rides away. 567 17 EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 15 Students are everywhere and so are classroom buildings. Tall, new, limestone structures resembling office buildings. Students sit on the steps outside the buildings. They are lying around on the grass and walking to and from classes. All of them have books in hand. The wind is blowing. CLOSEUP - DAVE He's sitting next to his bike on the grass and looking around at all of them. In his hands he has his Italian Phrase Book: the book being his admission ticket into this world. It's obvious he's feeling a little out of place, but he enjoys looking at the campus world. A campus Police Car drives by and Dave quickly hides his face in the book. Waits for it to pass and when he looks up he is struck by something. MED. SHOT - KATHERINE - DAVE'S P.0.V. She's coming out of a classroom building with a bunch of books and papers in her hands. The wind is blowing her hair back. The CAMERA ZOOMS IN ON her face, isolating her from all the others, just as Dave is doing. CLOSEUP - DAVE His mouth is open. He blinks once. He swallows. DAVE Mama mia I CUT TO: MED. SHOT - KATHERINE As she's walking, she transfers her books from one hand to the other. A piece of paper escapes her and flies away in the wind. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE He sees the paper fly away and jumps up. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE She tries to go after the paper but the traffic keeps her from crossing the street. The paper's flying away. She gives up, and turns toward the parking lot just as we see Dave on his Cont. 567 18 15 Cont. bicycle chasing after the paper. He cuts through the cars, he cuts in front of them. The horns blow. The brakes screech. All Dave sees is the paper. He's on a mission. He cuts through the pedestrians crossing the street maneuvering brilliantly. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - A COLLEGE GUY He's just walking. He sees the piece of paper flying around and grabs it casually. Just as he's ready to read it a hand appears in the FRAME and snatches it away from him. It's Dave, riding away with the piece of paper in his hand. The College Guy just stands and looks after him. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE - ON A MOTOR SCOOTER 16 She's driving home. In her rearview mirror she spots something. A bicycle rider. He seems to be gaining on her. She speeds up almost instinctively. CUT TO: ANGLE ON DAVE - ON THE BIKE He's. got the paper in his mouth and he speeds up too. He shifts his gear. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE She's riding along. She glances in the rearview mirror and sees Dave quite close behind her with the paper in his mouth. She shifts her gears too. She smiles a little. CUT TO: ANGLE ON DAVE He's close enough to shout. He opens his mouth to shout. The paper flies out but he quickly catches it in mid-air. DAVE Signorina... He has momentarily lost ground on her but he sticks the paper in his mouth and pours it on. CUT TO: Cont. 5 67 REVISED - "BAMBINO"_ 8/12/78 19 16 Cont. ANGLE ON KATHERINE She's crossing the street just as the light changes. Dave crosses on the red light. Once again he's nearly hit by several cars. He follows Katherine up the hill leading to Fraternity Row. He overtakes her just as. she's about to turn into the drive leading to her sorority. But Dave is there on her right preventing her-from turning. She too almost hits him. She slams on her brakes. Dave slams on his. They come to a dead stop. DAVE Signorina...You... He's handing her the paper but then he pauses and pulls it back just as she's about to take it. He wipes the saliva off the paper on his jersey, and then gives it to her. DAVE It is yours...no? She takes the paper and smiles. Then she laughs. KATHERINE You mean you've been chasing me with this? Well, that's redly something. Thank you very much. Talk about chivalry. Dave is just looking at her. She's never seen anyone look at her quite like that. She's a bit confused. KATHERINE Well, thanks again. DAVE Is nothing...niente...signorina. KATHERINE What're you...an exchange student or something? - DAVE Si. I am Italian. My name is ENRICO GIMONDI. X KATHERINE And mine is Katherine Maxwell. DAVE Ah, Katherinal Cont. 367 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 20 X 16 Cont.l She likes the sound of this. But the way Dave looks at her is unsettling. KATHERINE Well, thanks again, again. 'BYE DAVE Ciao,. Katherina. Dave'rides away. She looks after him. OUT 17- 19 EXT. MOOCHER'S HOUSE - DAY 20 There's a big CAMPUS REALTY sign outside the house with a FOR-SALE tacked over it. NANCY is walking up to the screen door. She knocks. Moocher appears holding a huge barbell at shoulder height. They smile nervously at each other. MOOCHER NANCYL NANCY I was just on my way to work... Come in. He pushes the door open with one end of the barbell and lets her in checking the street to make sure nobody saw her. She goes in. Moocher shuts the other door too. INT. MOOCHER'S HOUSE - DAY 20-A The two room house is empty except for a sleeping bag and a wooden foot locker -- Moocher resumes working with the barbells. NANCY You know what? MOOCHER No, what? NANCY I'm leaving home that's what. MOOCHER Whatl Where're you going? Cont. 567 AiEVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 w 21 X 20-A Cont. NANCY About five blocks south. I found a nice little house to rent. It's so cute I could scream. My folks said I could have some'of their furniture from the basement. Maybe you could give me a hand...moving. MOOCHER Sure...if...If I'm not busy. You know. How's the Job? NANCY You know what! Frank said if I keep up the good work it'll just be a matter of time before I become a head cashier. I should go now. MOOCHER Maybe...eh...Maybe I'll walk you to work. I have to go that way anyway. She smiles, happy at the prospect of a nice walk together. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 21 Dave and Cyril are going through the outskirts of the campus. Dave is riding his bike slowly. Cyril is jogging along. They go past

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Breaking Away Script at IMSDb. var _gaq = _gaq || []; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']); (function() { var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true; ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s); })(); The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb) The web's largest movie script resource! Search IMSDb Alphabetical # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Genre Action Adventure Animation Comedy Crime Drama Family Fantasy Film-Noir Horror Musical Mystery Romance Sci-Fi Short Thriller War Western Sponsor TV Transcripts Futurama Seinfeld South Park Stargate SG-1 Lost The 4400 International French scripts Movie Software Rip from DVD Rip Blu-Ray Latest Comments Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith10/10 Star Wars: The Force Awakens10/10 Batman Begins9/10 Collateral10/10 Jackie Brown8/10 Movie Chat Message Yell ! ALL SCRIPTS "BAMBINO" [ PRODUCED AS "BREAKING AWAY" ] Written by Steve Tesich June 9, 1978 FADE IN EXT. QUARRY OUTSKIRTS - DAY 1 A narrow dirt road totally surrounded by thick vegetation. Here and there we see a huge block of stone blocking the road. The sun is shining but it has a hard time making it through the foliage. In the distance we see four guys walking TOWARD the CAMERA. There is a swagger to their walk. MII is singing. The others are humming along. The melody of the song of "0 Bury Me Not On the Lone Prairie" but it's a loose version. MIME AND WHEN I DIE...WON'T YOU BURY ME ON THE"PARKING LOT OF THE A AND P BLOW OUT THE CANDLES AND BLOW OUT TIE LAMPS AND LIGHT MY PYRE WITH MY TRADING STAMPS I HAD TWO BOOKS BUT I NEEDED THREE R TO DELIVER ME FROM THE A AND P. I HAD THREE BOOKS BUT I NEEDED FOUR TO GO TO HEAVEN AND REDEEM MY SOUL. By this time the four are in front of the CAMERA. Mike is handsome and well built. CYRIL is tall and skinny. MOOCHER is very short. DAVE, hanging back a little, is carrying a large trophy. DAVE Bravo, Mike! Bravo! Bellisimot CYRIL Did you really make all that up? They pass. ANOTHER ANGLE The presence of the quarry is felt much stronger now. More and more blocks of cut stone appear. The guys are dwarfed by them. They have to climb over some. MIKE I sent away for this stuff from Wyoming. It'll tell you everything. Since you don't believe me maybe you'll believe it when you see it. CYRIL And we'd work on the same ranch and sleep in the bunkhouse together, eh? Cont. 567 REVISED '"BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 2 X 1 Cont. MOOCHER That's the whole point. CYRIL I always miss the whole point. MOOCHER It'd be nice to have a paying Job again, that's for sure. DAVE Niente laborare. Niente mangare. MIKE What's that mean? DAVE You don't work. You don't eat. CYRIL That's a terrible thing to say. MED. SHOT The quarries are felt even more now. Walls of stone rise up around the guys. CYRIL Are you really going to shave your legs? DAVE Certo. All the Italians do it. MIKE That's some country. The women don't shave theirs. CYRIL STOP! (pauses as if THUNDERSTRUCK; hand on heart) It was somewhere along here that I lost all interest in life. Ah, right over there. I.saw Dolores Reineke and fat Marvin. Why? Why Dolores? MOOCHER They're married now. Coat. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 3 X 1 Cont.1 MIRE You see what I saved you from, Cyril. Had I not told you about the two of them you never would have followed them out here. CYRIL- Thank you, Mike. You made me lose all interest in life and I'm grateful. MIKE My brother says he saw you and Nancy. Moocher. MOOCHER When? MIKE Last Friday? MOOCHER Wasn't me. I'm not seeing her anymore. ANOTHER ANGLE They are now standing above a huge pool of water with sheer cliffs on three sides. Abandoned derricks loom in the distance. Dave is now humming softly a Neapolitan song. They begin the descent. CYRIL I kind of miss school. You know. This will be the first time nobody's going to ask us to write a theme about how we spent our summer. MIKE Remember the Tomb of the Unknown Substitute Teacher. MOOCHER She believed us too. MIKE (TEACHER'S VOICE) Sex spelled backwards x-es. CYRIL When you're sixteen they call it sweet sixteen. When you're eighteen you get to drink, see dirty movies and vote. But what the hell do you do when you're nineteen. 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 3-A X 1 Cont.2 MIKE You leave home. CYRIL My dad says Jesus never went further than fifty miles from his home. Mike is skipping down the rocks toward the water, taking clothes off as he does. The rest follow. MIKE And look what happened to him. Mike jumps into the water. Moocher and Cyril follow. Dave looks on. FADE THROUGH TO: DAVE'S P.O.V. 1-A The guys are swimming. Dave is holding his trophy casually, enjoying the beautiful day. He pulls out a little Italian Phrase Book. Finds what he wants. DAVE Oggi fa bello,-non e vero? MIKE Sure thing, partner. MOOCHER C'mon in. DAVE I read where this Italian coach said you should never swim after a race. CYRIL Who's swimming? I'm taking a leak. Moocher and Mike splash water at him and swim away. FADE THROUGH TO: 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6/16/78 4 ROCKS BY THE WATER 1-B All four guys are sunbathing looking at the water. Deep X down, at the bottom of the quarry hole we see an old icebox. Mike is staring at it. The mood is one of total relaxation. MIRE Aren't you glad we got fired from The A and P. Right now we'd be X working. MOOCHER We didn't get fired. You got- fired. We quit. MIKE One for all and all for one. MOOCHER There aren't many places, you know, that'll hire all four of USE CYRIL You know what I'd like to be? MIKE Smart. CYRIL A cartoon of some kind. Man, X that'd be great. Like when they get hit on their head with a frying pan and their head looks like a frying pan-with a handle and everything. And then they go b-r-r-r. (shakes his head) And their head comes back to normal. That'd be great.. MIKE How come you're so stupid, Cyril. CYRIL I don't know. I think I have a dumb heredity. What's your excuse, Mike? Mike hits him hard on the arm. Cyril winces. Mike stands up. He makes sure they're all watching and dives in. The guys talk as they follow his progress. DAVE You hear from your folks, Moocher? 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 5 1-B Coat. MOOCHER .. Yeah, my Dad called. He says there's a lot more jobs in'Chicago. He hasn't got anything yet. Mike has reached the icebox. He opens the door. Goes in. Shuts the door. MOOCHER He wanted to know if the house was sold. They could use the money. DAVE You can come and live with me when it's sold. In Italy everybody lives together. All three of them are getting concerned about Mike. MOOCHER Ever since you won that Italian X bike you've been acting weird. You really think you are Italian. CYRIL I .wouldn't mind thinking I was s omebody myself. All three of them stand up. MOOCHER Maybe the door is stuck. God dammit! Moocher dives in. Dave and Cyril follow. Moocher swims down to the icebox, forces the door open. They surface. As soon as they hit the surface we hear: MIKE o.s.} Yoo--hoo . THE GUYS' P.O.V. They see Mike standing on top of the rock above them. MIKE It's got no back on it! He laughs triumphantly. He's ready to dive in again when he pauses and looks. High above where he stands on the other side of the quarry hole, we see several figures. The guys are swimming toward the rocks and looking at the figures too. 5667 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 6 1-B Cont.l CLOSEUP - MIKE His face has hardened as he looks at the figures. MIKE What the hell are they doing here? X ANOTHER ANGLE Dave, Moocher and Cyril are standing on the rocks below Mike. Mike is still on top of the rock. High above him are the College Kids. Three guys and three girls. One of the guys is standing on the ledge above the water. Our guys are looking at the College Kid on the ledge. He seems intent on diving into the water. It's a distance of at least eighty feet. He pushes off and dives in executing a beautiful somersault into a swan dive. CLOSEUP - OUR GUYS They are stunned. CLOSEUP - MIKE He's obviously envious.. He looks from the diver toward the guys and seems to feel his position undermined. CYRIL I've never seen anyone dive off from there. MIS BASTARDS[ (CLIMBING DOWN THE ROCK) They've got indoor pools and outdoor pools on the campus but they got to come here. (Joins the guys) It's my goddamn quarry. Cyril assumes a very dramatic posture. Sings to the theme from Exodus. CYRIL This hole! This quarry hole is mine! MIKE Hey, screw you, Cyril. Let's get out of here. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 6 6. 8 7 EXT. QUARRY - DAY 1-C They are retracing their steps out of the quarry. Mike is leading. -Moocher is behind him. Dave is at the end. He's carrying a huge trophy casually. X MIKE o.s.) If they re going to come here then we'll go on .the campus. MED. SHOT - MIKE'S CAR 1-D A racing bicycle is on top of the car. The guys are in the car and the car is moving fast through the dirt road leading out of the quarries. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 2 Mike is speeding through the town. A huge billboard with the Marlboro Man whizzes past us.. INT. MIKE'S CAR - Mike looks angry. He's got an unlit cigarette in his mouth. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 3 A car lot is on the right. "CAMPUS CARS.", MOOCHER Isn't your dad working today? DAVE (o.s.) No, the doctor told him to take it easy. He's taking Sunday's off. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - CITY HALL - DAY 4 City Hall is on the left. CYRIL (O S ) That's where you go to get a marriage license, Mooch. MOOCHER (o.s.) Yeah, so what? Cyril laughs and then howls as he's hit. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" ; 6/16/78 8 OUT 5 X EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 6 Huge modern structures are looming in the distance in stark contrast to the town we just passed through. Mike's car-is speeding toward them. X EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 7 Mike's car turns into a street called Fraternity Row.- Most of the fraternities and sororities-are located along this stretch. Neat lawns line the area. The houses are enormous: an architectural mixture of old manor house and modern motel. The college kids are outside on the lawns. Some are reading. Girls in bikinis sunbathing. Guys washing their cars. Some other guys passing the football around. Transistor radios playing. Mike drives slowly. INT. MIKE'S CAR All the guys are looking out of the windows as if they were in a museum. Mike looks at the expensive cars along the way. Cyril looks at the Girls in bikinis. Moocher looks at the huge well-built guys. Dave just looks. CYRIL Going to college must do'something 'to girls' tits. Just look at them. Campussies and sororititties. (sticks head out; shouts to a couple of Girls) - Hi, there. What's your major? The Girls look up and kind of sneer. MOOCHER They sure look like they've got it made. MIKE That's because they're rich. DAVE Italians are all poor but they're happy. MIKE Maybe in Italy. Cont. 567 9 7 Cont. CYRIL I wonder what it's like to kiss a coed. I wonder about it a lot. Ahead of Mike's car we see two Guys and two Girls playing Frisbee. They are standing on the lawns and throwing the Frisbee to each other across the street. Mike's car is moving slowly forward when an ill-thrown Frisbee lands on the street. Mike sees it and speeds up. A Girl is running to get it but Mike gets there first and runs over it. Dave gets a quick look at the Girl as she stops"suddenly to keep from getting hit. The two college Guys run out and give' Mike the finger. He sees them in the rearview mirror. MIKE Hey, those bastards are giving us the finger. He slams on the brakes. MOOCHER Hey, c'mon, Mike. We're on their turf. Dave is looking back at the Girl. The two Guys are challenging Mike, motioning to him to come back. The two Girls are trying to talk them out of it. Mike-is gunning the car. MIKE They think they own the place. MOOCHER They do. CYRIL Besides, you've humiliated them enough. In ancient Japan when you ran over a samurai's Frisbee he had to commit suicide. Just as he laughs Mike shifts the car in reverse. The two Guys and Girls are standing in the middle of the road. The Guys are coming forward thinking Mike's going to stop, but Mike has no intention of stopping. The Girls and the Guys split as Mike's car roars between them. Once again Dave catches a fleeting glimpse of the Girl. Having scattered them, Mike makes a U-turn and drives away in the direction he came from. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" 8/12/78 10 7 Cont.1 CLOSEUP - THE COLLEGE KIDS The girl Dave saw, KATHERINE, is looking after the car holding a cracked Frisbee in her hand. The tall well-built guy next to her, ROD, her boyfriend, looks real upset. He is wearing a Little 500 T-shirt. ROD Dumbass cutters. Goddamn redneck retards. OUT 8 CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE 9 riding. A Neapolitan melody plays as Dave rides holding his trophy:. a romantic song of the south and not southern Indiana. The small houses could be Italian houses to Dave. The people sitting on porches and steps could be Italians. Dave waves like a returning hero. DAVE Buon giornol Buon giornol (SPOTS SOME SMALL CHILDREN) Hey, bambino. The people and the kids look at him like he's an oddball, but Dave does not notice. A woman is shaking a rug ahead of him, and she looks so Italian that he can't help but smile. A big blonde GIRL is coming out of the house dressed in a waitress outfit. She sees Dave. G= Dave...is Moocher home? But Dave just rides past her in a daydream. CLOSEUP - A COUPLE ON A PORCH They're older PEOPLE. The Man is drinking a beer. WOMAN Tsk. Tsk. He was as normal as pumpkin pie and'now look x at him. The Man lets out a long beer belch. WOMAN His poor parents. 5 67 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 11 _ X l f T. BLASE HOUSE - DAY 10 MR. BLASE is sitting at a kitchen table. MRS. BLASE is boiling water. Mr. Blase does not look happy. He's got a flyswatter in his hand. He sees a fly. Whack. He hits it. He misses. MR. BLASE It's that cologne he wears. MRS. BLASE Neapolitan Sunset, it's called. MR. BLASE Well, it smells like fruit punch to me and it attracts flies. Mrs. Blase comes over and pours some hot water into his cup. She takes a package of Sanka from her apron pocket and puts it in the saucer. MRS. BLASE There. Mrs. Blase looks at the table. MR. BLASE This is itl MRS. BLASE You have to watch your diet. MR. BLASE Diet, if anybody found out I was on the diet they'd laugh me out of town. A diet. MRS. BLASE You know what the doctor said. At your age... MR. BLASE At my agel What the hell do you mean at my age. MRS. BLASE He says you have a bad heart. MR. BLASE Yeah, but it's got nothing to do with my age. It's our son that's ruining my heart, Evelyn. What's he going to do? He wanted a year with those bums so I gave him a year. CONT 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 12 X 10 Cont. MRS. BLASE It hasn't been a year yet. MR. BLASE But, Evelyn. Look whatts happened to him. He's turned into a ity; It was funny at first but it's not funny anymore. Ciao, Papa. Ciao, Mama. Arrivaderchit That's ity talk. MRS. BLASE It's just hero worship. He says the Italians are the best bike racers in'the world and he... MR. BLASE This is America, Evelyn. Only paper boys ride bikes and they earn money doing it. MRS. BLASE Re did win his bicycle and he was quite sickly 'til he started racing around and in three years ._ ne's... MR. BLASE (INTERRUPTS) So now his body's fine but his mind is gone. He used to be a smart kid. I thought he was going to goy to college. MRS. BLASE I thought you didn't want him to go to college. MR. BLASE Why should he go to college? I didn't go to college. When I was nineteen I was working in the quarries ten hours a day. MRS. BLASE But most of the quarries have shut down. MR. BLASE Let him find another job. MRS. BLASE But there aren't any jobs. 567 Cont. REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/15/78 13 10 Cont.1 MR. BLASE Let him look at least. Let him come home tired from looking. He's never tired. MRS. BLASE He's young. MR. BLASE When I was young I was tired. I had my own place at seventeen. MRS. BLASE He says Italian families stay together, MR. BLASE BUT WE ARE NOT ITALIANI MRS. BLASE I know. It's just that I come from a big family myself. . .and it really was kind of nice... (smiles, half EMBARRASSED) He thinks we should have another kid. MR. BLASE What?t Dave enters carrying his trophy. DAVE Ah, buon giorno, Papa. MR. BLASE I'm your goddamned father, not papa. DAVE Buon giorno, Mama. MR. BLASE She's your goddamn mother. Whatcha do -- win again? Dave opens the fridge and takes out a hunk of cheese and a hunk of salami and starts eating. Mr. Blase looks at him like a wolf and then he looks at half a grapefruit in front of him. He finds it unbearable to watch him chew. Cont. 567 REVISED - "B.ANBINO" - 8/15/78 14 10 Cont.2 DAVE Yes, the victory ...she was easy. But the promoter...'fondatore' ...He says the Italian team...it will come maybe soon...and I will race with the best...ITALIANO. X Like the nightingale they sing, like the eagles they fly. Mr. Blase can't bear to watch him eat. He's starved. MR. BLASE Speaking of flies...there's a helluva lot of flies following you into the house. DAVE Fly in Italian is 'mosca.' MR. BLASE Well in English it's a pest. And speaking of pests... Mrs. Blase senses an argument. MRS .. BLASE It's a nice trophy isn't it, dear? MR. BLASE Yeah, so what. I've lived fifty years without ever getting a trophy. DAVE You never got trophy, Papa? MR. BLASE No, never, and what's more... Dave interrupts. DAVE Here, Papa. I give you. You are 'Numero Uno.' King Papa. Dave hands him the trophy. Mr. Blase is stunned. He'takes it. Before he can even think to give it back Dave kisses him on both cheeks. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/15/78 MR. BLASE Don't do thatl How many times... DAVE Now I'have to go and take a shower. (starts to leave AND PAUSES) Such a big house and so few people. I wish I had plenty of fratelly and sorelly to greet me when I come home and to wave when I go. Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 15 10 Cont.3 Dave leaves. Mrs. Blase sighs. She too would like a big family. Mr. Blase is holding the trophy and looking at it. Neapolitan music is heard coming from Dave's room. Mr. Blase has had it. MR. BLASE There'-s that ity music again. X I'm going to have it out with him now. He goes to Dave's room carrying the trophy with him. Mrs. Blase follows him a few steps and stops. She waits... listening. She is apprehensive. She wants to follow and help Dave out but she stays behind wringing her hands. Mr. Blase reappears looking quite stunned. He's holding the trophy in one hand along his side. MRS. BLASE What's the matter? MR. BLASE HE'S SHAVINGL MRS. BLASE Well, so what? MR. BLASE His legs, Evelyn. He's shaving X his legs. I saw him. His legs. MT. DAVE' S BATHROOM 11 Huamoing along with the record player Dave is shaving away at his overly-lathered legs. OUT 12 CUT TO: INT. DAVE'S ROOM - CLOSEUP - THE STEREO - DAY 13 A record is turning. On top of the dust cover we see an album cover: ENRICO GIMDNDI SINGS NEAPOLITAN FAVORITES. X The CAMERA MOVES SLOWLY AROUND his room. There are bicycle trophies everywhere. Posters of Italian racers. Posters of Italian movies. Magazine covers and newspaper clippings from Italian racing magazines. Bicycle parts: Spare wheels...cranks...pedals. Several bicycle jerseys hanging on the doorknob.. ENRICO GINSONDI sings during.this tour of Dave's room. Dave comes out of the shower humming along. A cat comes to greet him, meowing. DAVE Ah, there you are Fellini... Hungry, eh? Cont. 567 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 16 13 Cont. He goes to a drawer and takes out a can of "Chef Boy-ar-dee" spaghetti and meatballs. Still humming, he opens the can and dumps the food into a deep ashtray with "CINZANO" written on the sides. DAVE Mangiare...mangiare... Be looks at the posters of the bicycle riders. He looks in the mirror. He takes a comb and combs his hair back in the "continental" style. Then he smiles. He picks up a book: "ITALIAN PEASE BOOK" and lies down on the bed to read it. EXT. MR. BLASE'S USED CAR LOT - DAY 14 A big sign: "CAMPUS CARS." The car lot is nowhere near the campus but the sign is considered good business. All around the car lot are other signs: BEST DEAL IN TOWN. CARS WITH A COLLEGE EDUCATION. The cars themselves have signs on them: "GRAD SCHOOL SPECIAL." "ENGLISH MAJOR" PhD" "HOMECOMING QUEEN" "CUM LAUDE" "MAGNA CUM LAUDE." CLOSEUP - MR. BLASE AND CUSTOMER The CUSTOMER is a young college kid. Mr. Blase is showing him the "HOMECOMING QUEEN." MR. BLASE It gets thirty miles to a gallon, X of course the mileage you get may vary. It's a beaut, right? Right. You sure know how to pick them. Frankly this is the best car on the lot. Quality product. DAVE (o.s. ) Ciao, Papal Mr. Blase cringes. Looks up. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE He's on his bike across the street. He's waving. DAVE'S P.O.V. Mr. Blase is looking at his Customer pretending he has no idea who Dave is. He shrugs and turns his back and quickly glances over his shoulder as Dave rides away. 567 17 EXT. CAMPUS - DAY 15 Students are everywhere and so are classroom buildings. Tall, new, limestone structures resembling office buildings. Students sit on the steps outside the buildings. They are lying around on the grass and walking to and from classes. All of them have books in hand. The wind is blowing. CLOSEUP - DAVE He's sitting next to his bike on the grass and looking around at all of them. In his hands he has his Italian Phrase Book: the book being his admission ticket into this world. It's obvious he's feeling a little out of place, but he enjoys looking at the campus world. A campus Police Car drives by and Dave quickly hides his face in the book. Waits for it to pass and when he looks up he is struck by something. MED. SHOT - KATHERINE - DAVE'S P.0.V. She's coming out of a classroom building with a bunch of books and papers in her hands. The wind is blowing her hair back. The CAMERA ZOOMS IN ON her face, isolating her from all the others, just as Dave is doing. CLOSEUP - DAVE His mouth is open. He blinks once. He swallows. DAVE Mama mia I CUT TO: MED. SHOT - KATHERINE As she's walking, she transfers her books from one hand to the other. A piece of paper escapes her and flies away in the wind. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - DAVE He sees the paper fly away and jumps up. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE She tries to go after the paper but the traffic keeps her from crossing the street. The paper's flying away. She gives up, and turns toward the parking lot just as we see Dave on his Cont. 567 18 15 Cont. bicycle chasing after the paper. He cuts through the cars, he cuts in front of them. The horns blow. The brakes screech. All Dave sees is the paper. He's on a mission. He cuts through the pedestrians crossing the street maneuvering brilliantly. CUT TO: CLOSEUP - A COLLEGE GUY He's just walking. He sees the piece of paper flying around and grabs it casually. Just as he's ready to read it a hand appears in the FRAME and snatches it away from him. It's Dave, riding away with the piece of paper in his hand. The College Guy just stands and looks after him. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE - ON A MOTOR SCOOTER 16 She's driving home. In her rearview mirror she spots something. A bicycle rider. He seems to be gaining on her. She speeds up almost instinctively. CUT TO: ANGLE ON DAVE - ON THE BIKE He's. got the paper in his mouth and he speeds up too. He shifts his gear. CUT TO: ANGLE ON KATHERINE She's riding along. She glances in the rearview mirror and sees Dave quite close behind her with the paper in his mouth. She shifts her gears too. She smiles a little. CUT TO: ANGLE ON DAVE He's close enough to shout. He opens his mouth to shout. The paper flies out but he quickly catches it in mid-air. DAVE Signorina... He has momentarily lost ground on her but he sticks the paper in his mouth and pours it on. CUT TO: Cont. 5 67 REVISED - "BAMBINO"_ 8/12/78 19 16 Cont. ANGLE ON KATHERINE She's crossing the street just as the light changes. Dave crosses on the red light. Once again he's nearly hit by several cars. He follows Katherine up the hill leading to Fraternity Row. He overtakes her just as. she's about to turn into the drive leading to her sorority. But Dave is there on her right preventing her-from turning. She too almost hits him. She slams on her brakes. Dave slams on his. They come to a dead stop. DAVE Signorina...You... He's handing her the paper but then he pauses and pulls it back just as she's about to take it. He wipes the saliva off the paper on his jersey, and then gives it to her. DAVE It is yours...no? She takes the paper and smiles. Then she laughs. KATHERINE You mean you've been chasing me with this? Well, that's redly something. Thank you very much. Talk about chivalry. Dave is just looking at her. She's never seen anyone look at her quite like that. She's a bit confused. KATHERINE Well, thanks again. DAVE Is nothing...niente...signorina. KATHERINE What're you...an exchange student or something? - DAVE Si. I am Italian. My name is ENRICO GIMONDI. X KATHERINE And mine is Katherine Maxwell. DAVE Ah, Katherinal Cont. 367 REVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 20 X 16 Cont.l She likes the sound of this. But the way Dave looks at her is unsettling. KATHERINE Well, thanks again, again. 'BYE DAVE Ciao,. Katherina. Dave'rides away. She looks after him. OUT 17- 19 EXT. MOOCHER'S HOUSE - DAY 20 There's a big CAMPUS REALTY sign outside the house with a FOR-SALE tacked over it. NANCY is walking up to the screen door. She knocks. Moocher appears holding a huge barbell at shoulder height. They smile nervously at each other. MOOCHER NANCYL NANCY I was just on my way to work... Come in. He pushes the door open with one end of the barbell and lets her in checking the street to make sure nobody saw her. She goes in. Moocher shuts the other door too. INT. MOOCHER'S HOUSE - DAY 20-A The two room house is empty except for a sleeping bag and a wooden foot locker -- Moocher resumes working with the barbells. NANCY You know what? MOOCHER No, what? NANCY I'm leaving home that's what. MOOCHER Whatl Where're you going? Cont. 567 AiEVISED - "BAMBINO" - 8/12/78 w 21 X 20-A Cont. NANCY About five blocks south. I found a nice little house to rent. It's so cute I could scream. My folks said I could have some'of their furniture from the basement. Maybe you could give me a hand...moving. MOOCHER Sure...if...If I'm not busy. You know. How's the Job? NANCY You know what! Frank said if I keep up the good work it'll just be a matter of time before I become a head cashier. I should go now. MOOCHER Maybe...eh...Maybe I'll walk you to work. I have to go that way anyway. She smiles, happy at the prospect of a nice walk together. EXT. BLOOMINGTON - DAY 21 Dave and Cyril are going through the outskirts of the campus. Dave is riding his bike slowly. Cyril is jogging along. They go past

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