Loser Takes All: The Serial (1957) -- Chapter Three

So, in an unexpected burst of springtime, they enter the enchanting city of Monte-Carlo, and head toward the luxury hotel, where by order of Mr. Dreuther, their rooms have been prepared. No one except the employees of the hotel noticed their arrival, but the two young people have the impression that the sky, the sea, trees and houses provided the real - and better - official reception. The bustle of the big-hotel, the porters who hurry to welcome them, all compete to give to them the exciting impression of entering for the first time a world of distinction and luxury ... Tony cannot stop himself from feeling a little clandestine in this new world for him ... Cary, on the other hand, is transported by a luxuriant enthusiasm...

In the hall, a bronze statuette of a horse catches their attention, one of whose paws is covered with money, like certain holy relics can be ...

Tony: What is this horse? It has a paw like the foot of Saint Peter in Rome: I'd guess that people touch it like an amulet...

He didn't finish the sentence before Cary hurried to rub the paw of the horse energetically.

Tony: ... as you are doing, superstitiously!

Cary: There are already enough unhappy people in the world, I don't want to increase their number!

One of the directors of the hotel escorts them to their apartment, a suite so elegant that the young lovers lose their breath...

Director: This is the royal apartment... you can see all of Monte-Carlo from your windows. We always book this apartment for friends of Mr. Dreuther... on the left, the small room, on the right, the biggest ... will the lady will tell me where she wants her suitcases put? I hope that the apartment will please you...

The two fiancés remain alone. The fact that they're not yet married and that she is alone in an apartment with Tony embarrasses Cary a little, even though it is a royal apartment...

Tony: Where are you going to put your suitcases, my love? In the big or in the small room?

Cary: It's of no importance, I think... let's leave it to fate to decide who will have the big or the small room...

But this answer doesn't seem to satisfy Tony...

Tony: What? You want to repeat that? I don't think I understood you.

Cary: If you want, I can even write it down ... You understood perfectly what I meant to say...

Tony: Hmmm... I am afraid so. You know, I have the impression that you would have preferred to marry an Englishman. He would have resigned himself more easily...

Cary: I wouldn't know. I was never in love with an Englishman.

Tony: Never?

Cary: No. Until now, I liked only one man... but he is trying my patience! If I were not so tired, I would have liked to tour the Casino. It wouldn't be dangerous for us, since we don't gamble... how lucky it is that we didn't think to bring along money with us!

Tony: Yes, indeed! But, if you are tired, why don't you take a rest in one of the two rooms... the big or the small?

Cary: No, no, love, I believe indeed that it is better that we go to the Casino...

Tony: But no, my dear... you said that you were tired. Wouldn't you prefer to rest better? Come, I'll come with you...

Cary: No, love, I will rest later... let's go to the Casino!

Cary knows well that if they linger any more, their first visit to the casino will be seriously compromised; as she separates herself from Tony, who resigns himself, but not without a deep sigh ... once in the Casino, Tony's light discontent disappears very quickly before the animation of the room, the fever of the players, the monotonous announcements of the dealers. The clothing of a particular elderly woman amuses Cary to no end...

Cary: Hey, look at that woman. Do you see what she has on her head? A true nest of birds...

They continue to wander between tables, but them find themselves returning to the same place. Cary notices a young man whose play seems especially luckless, and, standing at his side, gives him all of her attention ... the game continues and the young man always loses. Cary, feeling pity for him, turns toward Tony...

Cary: Tony, watch this poor boy. He seems really annoyed. Do you believe that he will commit suicide?

Tony: This atmosphere has made you romantic...

Cary feels vaguely excited. She senses the young man squinting at her and feels observed; Tony, on the other hand, is rather irritated.

Cary: It is true, I do feel a little romantic...

Tony: After looking at this type of guy ...?

At the same moment, the "type" shoots her a most defiant glance... to which Cary cannot help but respond with a smile. What is this judicious rush of the romantic pushing her to want to save this young man defeated by vice and misfortune, or the thought that she could divert the young man from the idea of suicide? Maybe... but two men in any case, interpret her conduct in various ways... one is Tony, nearly her husband, and the other, the young player...

The mute exchange prolongs itself a little, and Tony irritated more and more, ties vainly to create a diversion. Then, the young man decides to speak, revealing his English origin...

Man: Good evening, Miss...

Cary: Good evening...

Man: Would it amuse you him to play a little for me? Perhaps you would being me good luck ...

Cary: Oh no, thank you. I like to only watch...

To the big disappointment of Cary, the young man returns to his game. Tony is at the limits of exasperation...

Tony: If you want to spend all evening here, don't let me inconvenience you!

Cary: So you want to leave, let's leave...

Tony heads decidedly toward the exit...

Tony: I thought that Englishmen didn't interest you ...

Cary: Oh! Do you know that you have become odious? I merely took pity on this poor boy who is losing his last cent ...

Back in the hotel, their excellent dinner isn't able to overcome their light misunderstanding. The royal apartment and all its magnificence welcomes them ... but they have the problem of rooms again ...

Cary: What room did you decide you wanted?

Tony: Oh, it's all the same to me.

Cary: Without a doubt, as a man, you would favor the big room ...

Tony: Which means that you prefer the small ... so stay there. Good night.

But the royal apartment has a few surprises for couples who decide to take separate rooms. A long balcony, divided only by a small grid, unites the two rooms. What permits them to continue their conversation...

Tony: Listen, love... do you realize we are nearly apart? Did you forget that tomorrow, after the arrival of Mr. Dreuther, we must get married?

Cary is delighted to continue the conversation, from her side of this gate, that, even if symbolic, is sufficient to make her scruples unquestionable.

Cary: I will be almost happy if Mr. Dreuther is late -- this hotel pleases me so...

Tony: Me too, but I saw what it costs, and all the money we have is enough for exactly two days. Say, why don't you come a little closer?

Cary moves a little closer to him ...

Cary: You don't need to shout ...

Tony: I don't want to shout. What we have to tell each other belongs between us, no one else...

Cary: Who else would listen? When I think that we will spend all our lives together, I wonder if we will always find something to say ...

Tony: I think that our better moments will be those where we won't be saying anything...

Cary: You see how you are... I ask you a serious question and you...

Tony: My treasure, I am very, very serious... love, I...

Cary takes note of the uselessness of the small gate, and considers the idea of moving to Tony's balcony. Certainly, it would be a beautiful surprise, if she overcame the separation of their balconies and ran to kiss him... no sooner said than done, and Tony receives her in his arms while trembling at the idea of the risk she has taken for him ... she could have fallen!

Tony: Oh, love! You have made me so wonderfully afraid...!

Their lips meet in an ardent kiss ... when their dizziness stops, they find themselves again embracing on a convenient armchair placed close to the balcony. Cary tempts to resume their conversation ...

Cary: Do you believe that we have anything in common? You like poetry and mathematics; me, I don't understand anything of math and I don't know any poetry...

Tony: Don't worry about that, my love... it is you who are my poetry... and my woman...

Cary: Oh no, tomorrow... only tomorrow will I be your woman... no, Tony...

TO BE CONTINUED