MöRBISCH LAKE FESTIVAL
THE MERRY WIDO W
Olga!
Chéri!
Stop flirting.
Sylviane.
Au revoir.
To speak for the men and the beauties,
I step from their grateful ranks.
Still sober enough for my duties, I proffer a vote of thanks.
If it were later, the bubbly stronger,
My remarks might last rather longer.
Just for now I drink to the baron,
And for his health propose "Three cheers."
Here's a health to dear Baron Zeta,
And may he live a hundred years.
My friends, I tremble with emotion,
And past all caring though I seem,
For our dear land beyond the ocean,
Accept your gift of high esteem.
Today's a birthday celebration.
For this alone we all are met.
The duke, bless his heart, of our nation,
And may no loyal heart forget.
I stand in loco Pontevedro
And, all unworthy though they be,
My house and ground are Pontevedro, Pontevedro in Paree.
He stands in loco Pontevedro,
And, all unworthy though they be, His house and grounds are Pontevedro,
Pontevedro in Paree.
Gentlemen,
I will now convey to our gracious prince and governor
a wireless dispatch confirming
that on the eve of his glorious birth here in far-off Paree
all of our homesick, patriotic hearts beat faster.
We're thrilled. Zivio! Zivio!
Hoorah. Rah!
- Olga! - Oui.
- You're still flirting. - No, I'm not, chéri!
No, no, excuse me, sir.
- What gives you that idea? - Don't be sensual.
- I wasn't being anything of the kind. - Look how jealous Councilor Kromow is.
- Your Excellency is just as bad. - What is that supposed to mean?
You married the most desirable Paris chansonette.
You, a vintage bachelor.
Would you mind stressing the "bachelor"?
But, Your Excellency, your wife is the epitome of chastity.
Indeed, an innocent babe.
She is sweet to any old casual acquaintance.
Look how harmlessly Valencienne is chatting with "any old" de Rosillon.
- I would like a word with you. - It's my lucky day.
- What are you writing on my fan? - Three simple words.
- I love you. - Camille.
- Valencienne, my darling Valencienne! - Hee-hee, chéri, what do you want?
Did I interrupt you? I didn't mean to.
Darling, could you be so kind and check if Madam Glawari has arrived?
I'd love to, my sweetie pie.
- M. Rosillon, your arm, please. - Oh, she is such a generous soul.
- Madam Glawari's coming? - The rich banker's widow?
It's a diplomatic coup. My opening gambit.
She arrived yesterday on her first Paris trip.
You're banking on the 500 million her late, great husband left her.
You're a patriot.
500 million. Superb.
500 million. Not bad.
- It's still in the Bank of Pontevedro. - Do you think it is safe there?
In any case it is safer there
than in the bottomless vaults of a bankrupt Paris fortune husband.
She's planning to marry?
- Somebody here in Paris? - I'm afraid so, gentlemen.
Impossible. Can you imagine such a thing?
The impoverished daughter of a poor tenant farmer
catches and marries one of Europe's wealthiest men.
On their short-lived wedding night he makes her a rich widow.
- Pritschitsch! - Yes, dear.
There are still a few decent men.
Yes, dear.
Listen, gentlemen, one thing is clear.
- The widow is off limits to Parisians. - Absolutely.
The recently late millionaire's estate is Pontevedro's rightful legacy.
How sweet it is to inherit an abundant national heritage.
Zivio, Zivio!
Hoi! Hoi! Hoi!
Gentlemen, would you like to join me in the ballroom?
- Pritschitsch! - Yes, dear.
- Olga! Don't flirt! - Oh, chéri.
- Monsieur de St. Brioche! - Vicomte Cascada!
- Want to marry the widow? - Lf she agrees.
With compound interest.
- She'll take me. - Me too.
- She... She... She... - She'll take me too.
Look, now's our chance.
- There's no one here. - Alone at last, and heav'n is near.
I must have a word with you quickly.
- The words are few that I long to say. - No, no.
One word of folly and away you go.
Surely your heart can guess what I say.
The song my dreams sing night and day.
Ah, dearest friend, Such dreams are forbidden.
- Be strong and forget them. - Forget them?
I'll soon get you married.
I'd rather die.
You are my own.
I want only you and you
Alone!
I beg you, refrain, and mind You never say such things again.
A highly respectable wife
With no matrimonial strife
Deplores the game you are playing.
Her own wedded husband obeying.
If we were to kiss and pretend
Who knows where the game would end?
You're meeting for once in your life
A highly respectable wife.
I beg you, believe it.
My true explanation.
So now you must conquer
The subtle temptation.
Beware of me. Go warily.
It's perilous to play with fire.
One fatal day you look away.
Then suddenly you're in its power.
So you'd better know what you're about.
You're tempting fate without a doubt.
Put out the flame and drop the game.
You'll burn your fingers, so beware.
A highly respectable wife.
A type never known to be rife.
Then why is it I have to meet one?
And she an adorably sweet one?
I'll gladly endure these delays
Your slave to the end of my days.
While you for the rest of your life
Remain a respectable wife.
I know all the dangers.
You needn't have told me.
But true love is fearless
And nothing shall hold me.
- Beware of me. Go warily. - I plainly see this cannot be.
- It's perilous to play with fire. - Reciprocal desire.
- One fatal day you look away. - When lovers say
- And suddenly you're in its power. - There's new delay meaning waning fire.
- So you better know what you're about. - Love.
- You're tempting fate without a doubt. - When truly great should hate to wait.
- Put out the flame and drop the game. - I'll dare and dare and scorn despair.
- You'll burn your fingers, so beware. - I will not listen, so beware.
Madam, your husband is coming!
- Njegus! There you are. - Your Excellency.
Let's hear your report. Were you at Count Danilo's?
With all due respect, he was out.
Of course he was. He was at his lover's.
- Which one? - Lf you'd checked, you'd know.
I'd need two weeks off to visit them all.
His fatherland needs the count one time in his life
and he is nowhere to be found.
- I found him. - Where?
- Chez Maxime. - Oh.
With the grisettes and I'm telling you
those working girls are built like brick shithouses.
Mezzanine, a bird's -eye view of it all.
- No! - Yes.
That will make a stud of the lamest nag.
What are you looking at me for?
Did you execute your mission?
In letter and spirit, but he was in... in...
- In... In... What? - Intoxicated.
- But I stuck his head under the tap. - What for?
To detoxicate him.
He'll be here in a quarter hour, or 15 minutes at the most.
Good. He'll be amazed.
He has to earn 500 million for our fatherland.
- Earn? - Yes.
- He never earned a lousy farthing. - This time he'll earn a pretty penny.
When he arrives, he is to report to me.
- Bid him heed his fatherland's call. - I shall.
The fatherland calls loudest when millions are at stake.
500 million and little Anna.
- Madam Glawari! - She's arrived!
500 million!
- Gentlemen, no more. - I've never seen the spring before.
- Thank you one and all. - Going to a ball.
- Enough of that, if you please. - You throw us into ecstasies.
- Your compliments embarrass me. - We pledge our love and loyalty.
- I'm put in such a plight. - Oh, dance with me tonight.
- Yet happy to be here with you tonight. - With me tonight.
I'm still a Pontevedrian Unused to foreign ways.
Your courtesies Parisian Bewilder and amaze.
To me, a Pontevedrian, You may as well confess
Such folly, though Parisian,
Is folly, none the less.
And pray excuse me if I'm wrong. But I feel I'm correct.
The ardor of your song Is the fortune you expect?
Madam, we object.
It's idle to protest.
When I longed for a beau
Money was short, business was slow.
But now that my stocks Are the high stocks
There's a boom in the marriage bureau.
- Madam, we object. - She knows just how we feel.
- Can't you respect the pangs we reveal? - Widows of wealth strangely appeal.
I'm on the market. Prices are high.
Who's game for clinching the deal?
Beautiful lady, talk as you please.
Tell us some more Home truths like these.
How foolish is your flattery.
- It never really pays. - Dazzling.
- Nor plain assault and battery. - Worldly wisdom.
- Nor silly wheedling ways. - Amazing.
- Let me say after all I've heard - Gasping, gazing.
I may give way to you.
- Take you at your word. - Who'd remain unstirred?
- Careful what you're doing. - Put me to the test.
- There are booby traps in wooing. - Disregard the rest.
- Ah! - You'll find I'm the best.
- This wooing is an art. - Your doubts are quite absurd.
- There's no easy way. - He never spoke a truer word.
- Easy way to my heart. - Marry me, never to part.
Madam, you have an enchanting voice.
- A voice of gold. - You can bank on it.
Sounds like counting coins.
Am I right?
Excuse me, gentlemen, I'm in Paris for the first time
and not yet diplomatic.
There's no remedy for that.
- But you can dance, can't you? - With both feet.
- May I have your card? - Me too.
Please help yourselves, gentlemen.
My feet don't care whose feet step on them.
There's no remedy for that.
Welcome, Madam Glawari.
It is easier to break through enemy lines
than to clear a path to you.
Baron Zeta, it's a treat to see you again.
Don't be so modest. You're treating me.
By attending our party.
May I introduce my lovely wife?
- Valencienne. - Anna.
It's a great treat to welcome you to our home.
I've met your match.
- I refuse. - My wish and your command.
Gentlemen, you are all invited to visit me tomorrow.
I'm throwing a party in Pontevedrian style.
The whole Pontevedrian community and its Parisian friends are welcome.
Madam, you are a glorious specimen of Pontevedrian nature.
You surely remember the first secretary of my embassy.
- Count Danilo Danilovitch. - Count Danilo.
- He's a no-account count. - You've run into him.
I'm casually acquainted with him and his aristocratic family.
- Casually? - Superficially.
- What could be profound about it? - An in-depth interview?
Do you mind, madam, if I escort you to another salon?
- Forward, gentlemen. - I'm ready, madam.
Now, now!
So many eager arms!
- All because I'm rich? - Not at all.
Come, Baron, give me your arm. It's the most innocuous.
- Sorry. There's no remedy for that. - I acquiesce, madam.
Mark my words, gentlemen. That's how to conquer a woman.
- She looked me up and down. - Me too.
- She gave me the eye. - Me too.
- But I'm going to marry her. - Me too.
She... She... She...
She... me too.
- You'll marry her. - I flatly refuse.
It's my wish and your command.
I will remain a respectable wife.
If it makes you happy, I'll marry the widow.
Hide your hide.
This is harder than I thought.
Don't move. Don't move.
Otherwise the dear, devilish alcohol will be exorcized.
Get something to sober him up.
Don't fall.
- Be careful. - Yes. Oops.
- One step at a time. - One.
Two.
Three.
Njegus, I'm here, but where is the fartherland?
My very heavy fatherland,
Whenever will you understand?
I'll sweat for you with all my might
But rather more by day than night?
I'm sitting at my desk by one
Among the urgent files galore.
A little furtive drinking done
I'm back at home for drinks at four.
At private interviews I'm posed,
The weary statesman in his chair.
But keep my mouth severely closed
With diplomatic savoir faire.
Play my part without a doubt
Though the results are somewhat thin.
I use my in-tray as an out,
And vice versa, out as in.
The strain of it is great indeed.
And till the day I see the light,
No wonder that I sorely need
A little change of scene at night.
I'm off to Chez Maxime
To join the whirling stream.
For one brief hour entrancing
The moments fly romancing.
Lolo, Dodo, Joujou,
Cloclo and Margot too.
And when it comes to dancing,
Goodbye, my fatherland.
At Maxime's once again
I swim in pink champagne.
When people ask what bliss is,
I simply answer, "This is."
Lolo, Dodo, Joujou,
Cloclo and Margot too.
But when it comes to kisses,
Goodbye, my fatherland.
Here you go, Count.
Here is something very sobering.
Njegus.
I couldn't grant you an audience with the ambassador.
- He was engrossed. In an interview. - With whom?
- Madam Glawari. - Madam Glaw...
Anna Glawari? She's here too?
- Yes, yes. - Uh-oh.
But do me the honor of telling me the big job the fatherland has for me.
His Excellency said something to me about earning millions.
- Who? You? - No. You.
Fatherland shouldn't pull my leg.
- I'll tell the fatherland that. - Nice of you.
- And now let's take a seat. - You're very kind.
A half pirouette. Good.
And
you're in position already.
- Open up. - What is it?
No, leave it in your in-tray.
It's medicine. A bitter pill. I'll report you for fatherlandish duty.
Njegus, not just yet, please.
I'm not so sure. My brain is not fully drained.
Impossible.
Open up.
Be good, Count, be a good boy.
This is my fourth night without a wink of sleep.
I have to take a little nap, but where can I rest my weary bones?
- There's not a desk in sight. - Nor table.
Here we have a cozy spot where you can repose.
- Lend me a hand. I'll catch 40 winks. - Lift your feet a bit, please.
Careful. Careful.
The head is the center of gravity.
One.
Two.
There's a fungus among us.
Four days are a long time.
You're right about that, Count.
There you go, Count. Look. You never know.
Empty it. Don't forget.
Njegus, you're the mother of the fatherland.
Sweet dreams, favorite son.
- Lolo, Dodo, Joujou. - By the way.
What is the name of the babe
with curly, goldy locks and the burly, handy knobs.
- Dodo. - Oh, oh.
She's appealing. I wish I could give her a peeling.
You can. She likes being revealing.
- Loves it, in fact. - There are still decent girls around.
Sleep tight. Sweet dreams. Mouth open.
Sleep, baby prince, sleep.
The bunnies lie down
and don't leap.
Gardens and meadows retire.
- Madam, please. - Just one dance.
- Please. - One dance is all I ask.
- Please, madam. - One short dance.
Please, gentlemen.
Please leave me alone at last, for one single moment.
Please. Pretty, pretty please.
A demanding nation.
This Paris crowd.
Danilo.
Heavens to Betsy!
Can't I rest in peace for a...
Anna.
Count Danilovitch!
Forgive me for calling you "Anna".
I no longer have that privilege. But you may still call me Danilo.
That name is so far out of my mind that I am unable to pronounce it.
You look a fright, Danny.
What's the big idea? Loving me and leaving me?
How dare you marry the first guy to come along?
- He loved me. - He loved you?
- Oh, yeah? - Yeah.
- Oh, yeah? - Yeah!
Keep snoring, Count Danilovitch.
I'm wide awake.
- The lady lives in Paris. - She does.
Yesterday I moved into my palace in the Bois de Boulogne.
I want to enjoy Paris and the good things in life.
- And get married. - Again? That's a one-off affair.
In your books, it's a none-off affair.
Ann... Madam, if I'd had my way you'd be my Mrs. And not a widow.
But my uncle, the hereditary prince...
Your family was so endowed with aristocratic ambitions
that it refused to allow a hereditary nephew
to bequeath a commoner his aristocratic love.
Noble of your noblemen.
But, madam, you jumped at the chance to marry a moneybag.
My grounds for marriage are my business, not yours.
And now I am a merry widow in mourning.
Now your aristocratic family no longer opposes.
- Madam. - They condone a mésalliance.
You can't think I want your millions.
You're a man, aren't you?
Any man who says I'm his treasure is telling me the truth.
I'm his treasure. Literally. His treasure chest.
- You're right. Ergo.... - Ergo....
So I won't say, "You're my treasure."
- Never? - Never ever, never ever!
- Never. - Danilo!
You got your pronunciation back.
I am not running away from my past.
But utter fear seals your lips.
You do not dare to utter these three little words.
My lips are sealed.
- Maybe not. - They're sealed.
- This is war! - Battle of the sexes.
Gee up, lassie, here we are.
Off we go, but not too far.
Take us down the boulevard,
Jogging so sedately.
Gee up, lassie, not so slow.
Prance and jingle as we go.
Take the road all lovers know.
Lots have been there lately.
Madam, here's your evening shawl.
May be chilly after ten.
Sir, I trust, when shadows fall,
I'll be back at home by then.
Jogging in a one-horse gig,
Any time of night or day.
Careless of the weather,
Very close together.
Lovers fall in love that way.
Jogging in a one-horse gig.
Stopping at a small cafe,
Sitting there and gazing.
Isn't it amazing?
Lovers fall in love that way.
Jogging in a one-horse gig.
Feeling in the mood for play.
Starting after seven.
Destination heaven.
Jogging back to earth next day.
'Tisn't you and I, though.
Wish we didn't sigh so.
Lovers fall in love that way.
Look out, lassie, here's the spot.
Graze in yonder grassy plot.
We shall stay here, rain or not.
Chatting quite contented.
The lady threw down the gauntlet and I took it up.
- There's no remedy... ...for that.
- Titillating, teasing. - Mutually pleasing.
Lovers fall in love that way.
Where is my fan?
It's lost, and it says, "I love you."
You have to find it so I can remain a respectable wife.
But I love you.
Drop the subject, dear.
It's no use. I'm married.
If only it were to me!
That would be grand.
- I'd give you... - Yes? What?
- A parlor all our own. - A treat.
- When Sandman sand has sown. - How sweet.
- Two people all alone. - That does sound nice, I own.
- Then what? - The quiet is divine.
- We're dumb? - I hold your hand in mine!
- We're numb? - A magic spell did us entwine.
The quiet magic of our home sweet home.
The world outside we decline to roam.
Because domestic enchantment keeps us here.
You are my world. I'm your only sphere.
And when the essence is considered
Where do you find The good things in life?
In hustling, bustling, pells and mells?
Or where peace and quiet dwells?
And when the essence is considered
There's only one secure resort.
And that's our house.
And that's our home.
A haven safe, a sheltered port.
- What now? - A pie up in the sky.
- How sad! - You have to pass it by.
- No go? - It has to be that way.
- I tell you no and no. Alas! - It has to end today.
- A dream. - It doesn't have a prayer.
- Vain scheme. - A castle in the air.
The quiet magic of our home sweet home.
The world outside we decline to roam.
Because enchantment detains us here.
You are my world. I'm your only sphere.
You'd be my world, I your only sphere.
Enough. Now look for my fan.
- My wish is your command. - Where do I find the stupid fan?
No, never, my dear Kromow.
That's impossible. Think about it. Calm down.
You are mistaken about this fan.
This fan is definitely my wife Olga's.
- I say no. - I say yes.
She never stops flirting.
This fan convincingly proves her unfaithfulness.
Give me the fan. I demand satisfaction.
- No, oh, my darling Valencienne! - Oui, chéri.
I'm so glad you're here. This fan...
Mon Dieu, he has my fan.
- This fan says, "I love you." - Quelle horreur!
- It belongs to my wife. - No, it belongs to my wife.
- Non, non, non. - Oui, oui, oui.
If you don't tell him it's yours, this crackpot will kill his wife.
- Chérie, it's your fan. - Ah le voilà.
Now I recognize it.
And who wrote the declaration of love?
- Who could it be? - Who?
- Who else? My darling husband.
Who in the world else could it be?
Nobody but my... her darling husband. The lady is pretty tricky.
Today at least.
- Lf that's the case... - The case is closed.
Then allow me to take my leave. Your Excellency, Madam.
I will hasten to the side of my darling Olga
and whisper a torrent of sweet nothings into my beloved's beloved ear.
Bet she's flirting again.
People like that are a sorry lot.
- Yes. - Give me the fan.
I'll return it to Mrs. Kromow when her husband isn't looking.
- You haven't seen a fan? - Definitely not.
- No, no. - Good evening.
Good evening, my dear count.
I have an important matter to discuss with you.
Monsieur Rosillon, would you please spend some time with my wife?
Give her your right arm.
With pleasure.
I think I'd prefer it without pleasure.
- The fan turned up. - Bravo!
But my husband has it.
I have a question.
How long have you been in our fatherland's service?
Far too long. Four months.
One month on sick leave. One at a spa.
One month on vacation and one month looking for my desk.
- And what have you accomplished? - Nothing.
I'm not a workhorse.
- You've been liaisoning. - You know a better occupation?
- Yes. - But none more pleasant.
You're right there.
You are a man of the world. You have a way with women.
You are just the man for a very delicate mission.
- Lf no work is involved. - I'm no slave driver.
I don't want to hitch you to a wagon. No, to a pleasure.
- Fine. What do you want me to do? - Get married.
- You said it was a pleasure. - I know. I know.
But if the fatherland calls you to arms?
Get married to whom?
- 500 million. - 500 million?
That's love at first sight!
- Yes, you could say that. - Who is the poor woman?
- Madam Glawari! - Madam Glawari?
Never. Not for twice that much.
That's so unpatriotic it's tantamount to treason!
Poor Widow Glawari is threatened by a marriage to a bankrupt alien.
Then the 500 million are out the window.
We can't let that happen.
- We have to prevent it. - I could prevent it.
Then do it! Do it!
- She has to marry a fellow citizen. - Good.
- You, if possible. - Good.
- No way! - Why not?
I adhere to my motto: "Fall in love freely,
get engaged occasionally, but never get hooked."
Madam Glawari! Lady 500 Million!
The fatherland will demonstrate its gratitude.
That's something new.
Ladies' choice! Did you hear the gladd'ning voice?
It's enough to rouse the hero's blood and make the heart rejoice.
She looked this way at me. What will she say to me?
Dear Madam, I am standing by. And now it's ladies' choice.
Gentlemen, though I may refuse, I've no objection.
Gentlemen, how can I choose With such a wide selection?
If I don't decide on one, I'll be disappointing none.
- There are younger girls in plenty. - Better rich than sweet and twenty.
Take my arm.
- A persistent bore! - Take the floor.
I must work to save the day. I must get these lads away.
Storm breaks. Thunder getting fright'ning.
I'll fetch conductors for their lightning.
Just look at the way she plays with me. The worst thing to do to a man.
For all the attention she pays to me One might as well be in Japan.
For years women argue and fight to vote On terms on a par with a man.
Got what they wanted, a right to vote. What next, if they don't when they can?
- Here's a proposal. - And here's another.
My new election banner now advance.
- Vote for Cascada! - Vote for Brioche!
I'm the best man to choose for a dance.
- Vote for Cascada! - Down with Cascada!
I'm the best one to choose for a dance.
My answer to that one is easy. For all party folk are so grim.
The men are too bumptious and breezy. The women are blowsy and prim.
But if you insist on promoting This game of a mock party fight
I'll work for my country by voting
And win the election tonight.
- I had a brain wave! - I had another!
Then I must do the very best I can.
Serious reflection Goes before election.
Who of the two is the proud, lucky man?
Serious reflection Goes before election.
Which of you is the proud, lucky man?
Gentlemen, you win.
You're not to be resisted.
Very well
I'll make my choice.
Rescued in the nick of time.
Young lovers, all awake.
Night brings you waltz time.
And the moonlight sings in waltz time.
All the lanterns are swinging and burning low.
Where are the fond couples clinging as round they go?
Young lovers all take heart. Bright siren beauty, play your part.
Play your part now. Do your duty.
For the dawn breaks by and by!
If you please, sir, here am I!
Come away, come away
to the ball.
Where the dreams that you dream
will be true.
For the strings as they play seem to call.
Beckon and call to you.
Come away, come away to the waltz.
Floating on a lilting refrain.
To the land of desire Where no heart can be false
And the world shall be young again.
Lead the way. We obey.
Young lovers, awake. Night brings you waltz time.
And the moonlight sings in waltz time.
All the lanterns are swinging and burning low.
Where are the fond couples clinging as round they go?
Young lovers all take heart.
Bright siren beauty, play your part now.
Do your duty.
For the sun wakes and the dawn breaks. Young lovers all, obey.
My labors of the day are done.
They ought to be enough for one.
The work at night, dear land of mine,
Is far too much, and I resign.
I once again implore you.
I too no less adore you.
What courtesy and manly grace!
Disaster stares me in the face.
I'll choose, then no more go voting.
Here's a man well worth your noting.
- Cruel fate, another on my plate. - Brush him off.
My friend can dance the polka. The lancers or quadrille.
He'll demonstrate mazurka. Or any dance you will.
For grace and poise in the ballroom I've tried him out myself.
An escort quite exceptional. Too good to be left on the shelf.
So in this meeting he'll be competing.
Another candidate who'll take a chance.
Vote for Monsieur Rosillon. The best one to choose for a dance.
- Vote for Cascada. - Down with Rosillon.
- Vote for Brioche. - Down with Rosillon.
Who is/ He is/ I am the best one to choose for a dance.
- Madam, my friend has gone too far. - I'm not at all so sure.
Here's one I felt quite drawn to.
But he has nothing much to say.
And he pretends to look away.
What if I should choose you?
Me? Pardon, ma'am, I do not dance.
You're out of it then, am I right?
No, no, you're wrong.
I claim this dance tonight.
- You do? What then? - Well, if this dance indeed is mine,
I then can use it as I please. If you object, speak up.
- Go on. - What does he mean?
This valued prize
For which my humble thanks is worth ten thousand francs.
Any offers please?
I'll devote the proceeds of the sale To missions overseas.
Ten thousand francs! His case is sad.
My offer's really not so bad.
- Ten thousand francs. - He must be mad.
They're off. I've managed it at last.
- Off they go a procession sad and slow. - Ten thousand francs. Ten thousand!
Mention cash and then be sure They'll show they can endure.
The least expenditure.
"A penny saved" is all their creed. Oh, man's a godlike breed.
Alone I'll vindicate the male sex.
His ten thousand francs will now be paid.
Are you so in love?
- You ordered. I obeyed. - You'll do no such thing.
The last has gone. Good riddance too.
And we, we are alone.
Now I can dance with you.
My vote I withdraw.
I was your choice. Deny if you can.
There's a flaw in your plan.
I'll dance alone.
Music is playing.
Lovers have kissed.
Madam, how can you resist?
I'm not dancing.
Oh, you terrible man.
What exquisite dancing.
I do what I can.
No one must go yet, fellow countrymen.
We'll now begin the birthday celebrations.
Let us dance and sing the peasant songs.
Just like the old days
in our native land.
Mi velimo dase, dase, veslimo!
Dance and shout. Rend the air with singing.
Dance and shout. Send the echoes ringing.
Dance and shout. Rend the air with singing.
Dance and shout. Send the echoes ringing.
Mi velimo dase veslimo! Hei!
Let's all waken memories.
We'll sing our native melodies.
And find a song that we all know.
The tale of Vilia long ago.
There once lived a vilia, A fair mountain sprite.
She danced on a hill In the still of the night.
A huntsman came by Who was comely and tall
His horse for to graze
By the cool waterfall.
Suddenly he turned amazed And suddenly he stood and gazed.
Stream and vale
Listened to his sweet love tale.
Vilia, oh Vilia.
My nymph of delight.
Haunting the woodland. Enchanting the night.
Vilia, oh Vilia.
Be tender and true.
Love me and I'll die for you.
Vilia, oh Vilia, my nymph of delight.
Haunting the woodland. Enchanting the night.
Vilia, oh Vilia.
Be tender and true.
Love me, and I'll die for you.
She welcomed the huntsman with white lily hand.
And soon he was lost in a strange fairyland.
She kissed him, caressed him, Then fled like a dream.
He woke all forlorn
By the cool running stream.
Gypsies on the cool hillside
Still hear him calling far and wide.
Stream and vale
Echo with his sad love tale.
Vilia, oh Vilia, my nymph of delight.
Haunting the woodland. Enchanting the night.
Vilia, oh Vilia.
Be tender and true.
Love me and I'll die for you!
Vilia, oh Vilia, my nymph of delight.
Haunting the woodland. Enchanting the night.
Vilia, oh Vilia.
Be tender and true.
Love me and I'll die for you.
Vilia, oh Vilia.
My nymph of delight.
Love me, and I'll die for you.
Vilia, oh Vilia.
Be tender and true.
Love me and I'll die for you.
Vilia, oh Vilia, my nymph of delight.
Love me, and I'll die for you.
Vilia, oh Vilia.
Be tender and true.
Love me and I'll die for you.
Mi velimo dase, dase, veslimo!
Dance and shout.
Send the echoes ringing.
Dance and shout.
Rend the air with singing.
Mi velimo dase, dase, veslimo!
Lady of the house!
This patriotic pageant
couldn't possibly be more patriotic.
Thank you, Your Excellency.
Today your wife and I will become
a veritable can-can line.
A surprise for Count Danilo.
So he doesn't feel so forlorn.
- Lolo, Dodo, Joujou... - Njegus, don't spill the beans.
- Oui! - Make yourselves right at home!
Wow! Isn't she a sensational woman?
- And fit as a fiddle! - I noticed.
And she wants to accommodate the count.
Where is he? Under the table again?
"But," he said, "The fatherland can kiss."
- He said that? - No buts.
- That's high treason. - No, he stopped short:
"Kiss, period."
Period? That's completely different.
Then he isn't coming?
Wild horses couldn't drag him here, even if you're one.
- Is he calling me a mule? - Or an ass.
What impudence! He has no respect!
- I agree. - Good evening, Your Excellency.
- Here I am! - My dear count, you're a veritable...
A lousy diplomat.
If I did not require your services, I would say
you are unreliable, unpunctual
and a universally poor diplomat.
Now you know where you stand.
However, I require your services.
For that reason I'd have to say you are adorable.
You are young, industrious, efficient and charming man.
- You have career potential. - The man has connections.
Listen to me, Count. A dangerous rival has appeared.
- Rosillon. - Camille?
I have heard people say that he wants to marry the widow.
If we could only find a weakness where we can attack him!
- I know his Achilles heel. - What is it?
Monsieur de Rosillon is madly in love.
- With whom? - A lady.
- And she's married? - Madly.
- Her husband is? - He's as mad as a hatter.
Don't keep me in suspense. Who is it?
Your Excellency, I hate to tell you this.
- The lady concerned is your... - What's wrong with you?
- She didn't tell me her name. - That's all right.
I'll get to the bottom of it through diplomatic channels.
- I wish you well in your endeavor. - What will the lady's husband say?
The old coot deserves his fate.
- Words of wisdom. - Listen, Count.
I found this circumstantial fan. Somebody wrote "I love you" on it.
It must belong to Madam Kromow.
Try to find out.
Remember, Count, you're diplomatic timber.
Knock on wood.
- Where are you going? - Nowhere special. You?
- Nowhere special. - Then we can go together.
Fine. Four feet are faster than two.
My chance to connive. I'll go the diplomatic route.
Here comes Madam Kromow.
Now we'll learn if it's her fan.
- Madam Kromow! - Count Danilo!
Madam Kromow, have you lost anything lately?
Seven ounces. Is it noticeable?
All seven.
- Haven't you lost anything else? - No. Wait a minute. One other thing.
No. I still have it.
No, I meant your heart, and another small item.
- Count, I'm a happily married woman. - Don't worry. I'll be discreet.
- I just want to warn you. - About what?
- He's about to marry the widow. - St. Brioche?
- The cheat!
What a swindler! What a liar! What a...
What a...
Words fail me, Count.
- Thank you. - You're welcome.
My gratitude's no platitude. I'll wring St. Brioche's neck.
St. Brioche, report for duty!
She's St. Brioche's mistress. Interesting. She isn't the owner.
Madam Bogdanowitsch.
Oh, Danilo.
Mrs. Bogdanowitsch, have you lost anything lately?
I beg your pardon?
Have you lost some thing last time.
Me? No.
You. Yes. Your heart. And something you can yourself
abkühlen... "cool up",
What do you mean by "cool up"?
I should have learned English instead of Russian.
Air conditioned!
I give up... My lady, see, I am a very discreet person.
I warning you. He thinking about to marry another.
- The black widow. - Who?
- Cascada? - She's got it!
Thank you very, very much.
I'm sorry, but I have to kill him.
Cascada! Where are you? You bloody cheating bastard!
I'll kill you!
It's a den of murderesses.
Snooping is very educational.
A Balkan call of the wild.
- Danilo! - Madam.
What a pretty fan you have.
- Lovely, isn't it? - As lovable as they come.
This fan bears the words, "I love you."
I'll put it back in the dainty hands where it belongs.
- At long last! - Then it's yours?
Count, did you surmise it?
Or did you know it?
Both.
You must somehow have sensed what is going on in my heart.
If I didn't, I wouldn't give you the fan.
"I love you." Three wonderful words!
- Words that make the world go round. - And straight from the horse's mouth!
Oh, what a manly penmanship.
Your handwriting is virile, Danilo!
- Mine? - So romantic! So expressive!
Only a mature, experienced women can satisfy a sensitive man
who writes like that.
- Madam, give me the fan back. - Danny boy!
- Why did you suddenly get so stuffy? - It wasn't meant to be.
- But something's got a hold of you. - Your chastity is my bond.
We can go the diplomatic route.
- We'll get my marriage annulled. - Too late! Your husband.
Count, I count on your discretion.
- Forever hold your tongue. - For all eternity.
- And in the thereafter. - Pritschi, dear, wait.
I'm coming.
Who does the fan belong to?
I'm warning you.
- Hands off the merry widow. - You keep your hands off her.
A dispute among gentlemen? Don't let a diplomat disturb you.
I want to negotiate for you with Madam Glawari.
- For me? - Me too?
Both of you. Be right back.
I'll tell Madam Glawari today there will be a duel
between Cascada and Bogdanowitsch.
Bogdanowitsch? Mon Dieu!
- He knows about you and his wife. - He does? It's the devil's work.
You must have told the vicomte something amusing.
I have good news for you too.
I'll tell Madam Glawari today there will be a duel
between St. Brioche and Kromow.
- Kromow? - He knows about you.
- And her? - And her.
- The devil is on the loose. - The devils are on a rampage.
Ah, Mr. Bogdanowitsch! Mr. Kromow!
- Discretion! - Discretion.
I have a delicate question to explore with you.
How should a man behave
when he learns his wife is cheating on him?
That's easy to answer. Here's what I'd do.
I'd liquidate him.
Liquidate? I'm perspiring already.
I'd collar the guy and wring his neck.
I'm suffocating.
You all look thirsty.
What are you talking about?
- Husbands killing their wives' mates. - That's no concern of mine.
Thank God for that.
Thank God for that!
It's a problem.
- How to manage? - Do go on.
How to manage willful women When the bloom of youth has gone.
- How to keep them. - Keep them faithful.
- That's the question. - There's no doubt.
If there's any bright suggestion, We're ready to try it out.
Now one pursues the latest fashion. Coiffure, hipline, toque and muff.
And one the grand romantic passion. Tristan and Isolde stuff.
The next demands a bullneck hero. Spurs and waxed mustachio.
With brawn at plus and brain at zero. Ajax or Petruchio.
A fourth is fractious late and early Scolding when the guests are gone.
Still thriving in the hurly, burly. Offspring of an Amazon.
But some of them are sweet and tender Snakes that wheedle and beguile.
Beguile.
We'll close our ranks and not surrender.
Wond'ring what to do meanwhile.
What to think, what to say, what to do?
- Oh these women, dreadful women. - What a red-letter day if we knew.
- Oh these women, dreadful women. - Being male, we may fail, but we try.
Yes, we try, try, try, try, try.
Clutching hope we must cope as we can.
Tho' it's plainly too much for a man.
Tho' you sweat, tho' you slave, They forget what you gave.
So you're back where you first began.
Oh these women, dreadful women.
These damned women!
What to think, what to say, what to do?
What a red-letter day if we knew.
Being male, we may fail, but we try.
Yes, we try, try, try, try, try.
Clutching hope, we must cope as we can.
Tho' it's plainly too much for a man.
Tho' you sweat, tho' you slave, They forget what you gave.
So you're back where you first began.
- What to think, to say, to do? - Dreadful women.
What a red-letter day if we knew. Women, women.
Being male, we may fail, but we try.
Yes we try, try, try, try, try.
Clutching hope we must cope as we can.
Tho' it's plainly too much for a man.
Tho' you sweat, tho' you slave They forget what you gave
So you're back where you first began.
How the men try
to subdue us.
Some will woo us, some undo us. Others look right through us.
Every one 'neath the sun Heeds the motto C'est la vie.
Every macho, every hobo Follows his own strategy.
One brings roses by the dozen. Three and three and three and three.
Two drops the trousers he was in. Come and see, quick look at me.
Three seeks pity as a loser. Woe is me and me is woe.
And four turns out to be a boozer. Whiskey, wine, rum and sloe.
The fifth lies and thinks it's funny Hee, hee, hee, ho, ho, ho.
The sixth boasts about his money. Glad to show he rolls in dough.
Several quote from Heinrich Heine. Hart and doe go to and fro.
Each has the same thing on his mindy.
Top to bosom and below.
Yes, the study of menfolk is tough.
Makes our female brainstorm so rough.
There's no way to grasp The man you clasp.
No woman can understand a man.
Romeo, Gigolo, Don José.
With a beard or tiered with toupet.
Never delivers what he's cracked up to be.
It's a pain with a man, it is plain.
Men are, men are, men are, men are
Woman's bane!
Yes, the study of menfolk is tough.
Makes our female brainstorm so rough.
There's no way to grasp The man you clasp.
Men are slippery as an asp.
Romeo, Gigolo, Don José.
With a beard or tiered with toupet.
Never delivers what he's cracked up to be.
It's a pain with a man, it is plain.
- What to think, what to say? - Studies of menfolk don't pay.
If we knew what a red-letter day!
Opposite sex Certain to vex.
- Women threaten you, boy. - Men are a dangerous toy.
Tender girls, splendid curls, golden hair.
Skin so fair, of big blue eyes a pair.
With luring sighs and haunting eyes
They will cut all you guys Down to size.
Madam, I apologize.
- Urgent business calls. - Me too.
- I have to go. - Me too.
Bonne soiree, madame.
- Bonne soufflé, I mean, bonne - Au revoir!
- Count Danilo! - Madam.
- You scared off all my suitors. - What a terrible shame.
- But there are more in the wings. - They will be eliminated as well.
- What are you up to? - An elimination process compulsion.
One might be inclined to believe
that you still love me.
Me love you? That's a laugh.
In that case,
you don't love me.
- Pardon! - A laugh and a half.
Therefore you can help me make a difficult choice.
Should I marry the man that I really want to marry?
You want to? You've already started wanting?
Go ahead and marry the man you want to marry.
Wed him how, where and when you want.
- You can't hurt me. - Why are you shouting?
- This stupid fan! - You're jealous.
- I am not. - Forget it.
I want to marry in Paris.
Our poor fatherland, losing a treasure.
But before I marry I want to get a taste of life in Paris.
Where's the action in Paris?
With your lawfully wedded husband
at the ball in the Pontevedrian Embassy.
- There you dance a kolo. - Oh.
A dance we danced so often long ago.
Do you still remember?
You were a spectacular dancer in those days.
Madam, may I have this dance?
La danse de notre patrie.
The kolo!
It's a strenuous dance!
And it's not exactly Parisian.
I would tell my future husband,
"Dear Da..."
- Dagoberto. - A terrible name!
Take me somewhere else.
He takes her to Maxime.
His eye has more to gleam.
There they dance with gusto.
The shadiest young ladies to grace gay Paree.
When you enter the room they say,
"Oh, a new chorus girl?"
The orchestra plays a seductive waltz.
In three quarter time you lose
three quarters of your virtue.
No, no, dear Count.
That's risky and risqué...
The enchanting music and a dance that romantic.
You risk losing the last quarter of your virtue.
- Oh, Count. - Excellency?
Have you managed to find out
who the married woman who loves Rosillon is?
- Not yet. - But I have.
We're well on our way to the truth.
I have entrusted my wife with the mission
of stalking Monsieur Rosillon.
He's bound to confess.
- Your Excellency. - What?
A priority letter for you.
- From? - The postal service.
- It's sealed. Open it! - Open it.
Open it!
You want me to?
I like to read.
- Well? - One moment.
Srt, Brt, Krt, Brt...
Names of islands.
Give me that. Ah, Njegus.
- Like this. - He upside-downed it.
Now try to read it.
I take the liberty of appealing
- to your excretion. - Where does it say "excretion"?
- "Discretion", Njegus. - You're right.
Your Excellency, you're a literary critic.
I take the liberty of appealing to your deletion.
- That's wrong. - Small print.
- Let's see? - I should go to the see sure.
- Where? - To the sea shore.
- What are you doing? - Cleaning my glasses.
- There's no lenses. - They're Medicare specials.
Throw the things away.
- They're better than nothing. - Read the letter now.
That's much better.
Here you go. Seeking a Minnie.
- Who is seeking a Minnie? - He is.
He is? How come?
Ministry. That's the answer.
Where are you going?
It says "you run around."
- "To run around", Njegus. - "To run around"!
- Right. - Keep going, Njegus.
- Keep going? - Keep reading!
- Now I understand. - Try to digest it.
A telegram with a figure running around 500 melons.
- Melons? - Is the minister on one of her diets?
She needs a sound stomach.
- She's Minister of the Interior. - Cut the comedy.
It's about Madam Glawari and her vast melons... millions.
We must reply, gentlemen.
We'll meet at eight on the dot.
At this summer house.
We'll debate, contemplate, and ratify to satisfy.
What if it's raining cats and dogs at eight o'clock on the dot?
We'll meet 15 minutes earlier.
Look gentlemen, there's my wife.
She's tickling him to elicit the very ticklish information.
Let's hide and not disturb them.
Then at least give me a keepsake to remember you by.
A keepsake?
- Look, your fan. - Merci.
How did that get there?
Do you have a pen?
Voilà.
This token is my goodbye present.
I'm a highly respectable wife.
Voilà. Now I have it in writing.
Valencienne!
- Dear friend, be calm! - Must you torment me?
You know I want you to get married.
So you must speak to Anna now. This evening.
I understand. Yet it is you I long for.
They hurt me too, these cruel words.
But simple duty bids me say them.
Good conduct has a code of rules.
And I for honor's sake obey them.
And I must lose you now forever.
Unless you wish to see me dishonored.
No, never that. If that's the price.
This way is best. The hand of a friend.
No, I must kiss you.
I gave you a warning.
But why, why must it end?
Red as the rose of Maytime
That blooms in bright array.
Love in my heart has opened
And charmed my tears away.
Such royal crimson gleaming
Entranced my waking eyes.
It seemed I still lay dreaming
Yet walked in Paradise.
I know all beauty passes.
And ev'ry sun must set.
But though the winter rages
My rose is lovelier yet.
Alone it grew in secret.
It knew nor dark nor night.
A phantom flower
that never can fade
from mortal sight.
I know it blooms forever.
The rose I bring you tonight.
Oh, Camille!
Valencienne.
Dear lover, no.
Say nothing. You need to say no more.
My darling, be tender.
Kiss me now farewell.
No, not here.
Look where a leafy bower lies.
Safely hidden from all eyes.
Dear heart.
There in the overhanging shade
Let me sing my serenade
Then part.
Night will see our joy.
But no tongue ever tell.
Love, make me happiest of men.
Love a little while, and then,
"Farewell."
This magic.
Somehow I can't resist it.
Come where the summer house awaits.
- It's all a wild dream. - Enter heaven's happy gates.
- Can this be true? - Anew.
Darkness us invites
to enjoy love's delights.
Here in the dim-lit summer house
We can embrace as
spouse and spouse.
Val and Rosillon trysting in the pavilion.
I'm a poet and I don't know it.
- The poor baron. - Njegus!
- Your Excellency. - Njegus, it is eight on the dot.
- Where is the count? - On his mount?
Open the summer house for the rendezvous.
- We can't now. - Why not?
- It's pre... pre... - Prepared?
Preempted. Somebody's inside.
- It's a lady? - Not anymore.
- You're hiding something. - It's Monsieur de Ros...
- Rosillon? - I should have stopped at "de".
We've got the married woman he loves.
Shut the back door to close the trap.
I'll let them out and then lock them in.
Count, we've uncovered the lady Rosillon's courting.
- Who is it? - I don't know.
But she is in the summer house.
- Let's go and eavesdrop. - That's not diplomatically correct.
But it's good intelligence.
He's taking about wedlock.
- Wedlock, commitment and sacrifice. - Wedlock? He's a mere novice.
- And the lady? - I'll stoop to the peephole.
- That's not diplomatically correct. - It's preventive espionage.
I can't quite see the lady's face.
Where is her face?
On the front of her head. Unless she's twofaced.
I bet a million melons it's the wife of the dimwitted Kromow.
Great, now she's turning around. Back, side, face.
- Who in the world is it? - It's my wife!
Don't celebrate.
I'm the dimwitted Kromow.
Excellency, if it's any consolation it's your sacrifice for our country.
Even fatherlands have certain boundaries.
Open up!
Open at once!
- I wonder what it is they want. - Ha, Anna and Camille?
- I know for certain what I saw. - Anna and Camille. It is impossible.
- The blackest moment of my life. - But where on earth's my wife?
- You want me? - Well, this knocks me flat.
- What happened? Someone tell me that. - Ha, Anna and Camille.
- For heaven's sake, keep still. - I saw a woman's face plainly inside.
- When I was peeping through the door. - A most uncivil thing to do.
What's more I plainly heard that gentleman
who stands before me declare his love.
You heard him speak to me.
- Ha, Anna! - I'd swear it was my fickle wife.
My darling Camille, You must bear me out.
- Mingled pangs. - Relief, distress. - My heart oppress. - Nightmare no less.
It seems that the baron deemed it fit
To spy on his friends And be indiscreet.
So you, my Camille, Must bravely repeat
The secrets you told me So meltingly sweet.
- Must I obey you? - The whole truth, I pray you.
You see me, Baron, in a hopeless plight.
She has demanded. Her word is my law.
Can't wait to hear what he has to say.
Red as the rose of Maytime
That blooms in bright array.
Love in my heart has opened
And charmed my tears away.
Such royal crimson gleaming
Entranced my waking eyes.
It seemed I still lay dreaming
Yet walked in Paradise.
I know all beauty passes. And every sun must set.
But though the winter rages
My rose is lovelier yet.
I'll cease domestic strife,
No more suspect my wife.
I shall keep calm and leave her.
Renounce, forget her quite.
Passion and tender love at last
All vanquished quite.
- Vanquished quite. - Serves her right!
Well, there it is, friends.
You know exactly what passed between us in the summer house.
There's no going back. Now for my trump card!
I've some things to say.
- What news? What news? - May I present the latest bridegroom?
- Rosillon. I'm the bride, you know. - What me?
- She's the bride, we know. - I'm damned. - We're sunk.
It's having the desired effect!
- Congratulations! - All because of sev'ral million.
- A long goodbye to sev'ral million. - I must protest. I can't act anymore.
You'll bring disgrace on the girl you adore.
- You really mean this? - Tell me honestly.
- Whyever not? - The count and I both disapprove.
Indeed.
No, no, believe me. I'm not enchanted, ma'am.
And furthermore you have my blessing.
I only said...
You only said?
Love whom you will. Make few proposals.
Never be wed.
The viewpoint of diplomacy
On conjugal felicity
Is worth consideration
From close observation.
The marriage tie is obsolete.
The wedded pair is incomplete.
The pattern though twofold soon becomes a threesome.
Triangular, adjustable
Or rather too combustible.
To prove my point You ought to see some.
One final point.
Then nothing more.
Take my advice, keep open door.
When marriage palls, Give it an airing.
- Impertinence! - That's right.
You clear the coast a bit.
Then take your chance And make the most of it.
The match should last at least a year Quite à la mode Paree.
He'll say "Madame and she "Monsieur", Quite à la mode Paree.
We're deep in love I'm bound to say Quite à la mode Paree.
But both will go their own sweet way.
Quite à la mode Paree.
Oh, how splendid.
Dull days ended.
If this were not the way to go,
I'd never marry, no. By no means, no, no, no, no, no.
Oh, how splendid.
Dull days ended.
If this were not the way to go, I'd never marry, no, no, no.
- This marriage sounds distinctly gay. - Quite à la mode Paree.
- The husband out, the wife away. - Quite à la mode Paree.
- Delightfully irregular. - Quite à la mode Paree.
And soon you'll be divorced all three
Terribly à Paree.
Oh, how splendid!
Dull days ended!
If this were not the way to go, I'd never marry, no.
By no means, no, no, no, no, no.
Oh, how splendid.
Dull days ended!
If this were not the way to go, I'd never marry, no, by no means, no.
I'm boiling, bubbling, raging. White-hot like a furnace.
Stop the dance! I've got to breathe.
Calmly, calmly, this won't do.
This will never get me through.
Take it gently, come what may.
'Tis poise alone can win the day.
Madam, I wish to tell a story.
You do?
Then if there's no offense, Say what you please.
You've got your audience.
And I'm list'ning.
I'll begin then.
There once were two royal children.
I've heard they were lovers of old.
But fate never joined them in wedlock
As sorrowful ballads have told.
The prince, he was moody and silent
For reasons withheld in his heart.
The lady that silence resented.
It kept them so strangely apart.
'Twas then that Her Highness in anger
Decided to cheat and betray.
She turned in revenge to a scullion
And gave soul and body away.
"For shame, you've wronged me.
Mistaken, unfeeling and blind!
You show by this deed you're not better
Than your false feminine kind.
But never imagine I'm grieving."
Ha, ha. He showed not a sign.
- "Oh, treachery past my believing." - Danilo!
These words were the prince's. Not mine.
His fury then rose to its climax.
"Go, take him. You'll quickly repent!"
And so with that blessing he left her
But cursed in his heart.
As he went.
You're going, Count? But where?
Where? Me?
No one seems to want me here.
I'm off to Chez Maxime.
To join the whirling stream.
When people ask what bliss is, I simply tell them, "This is."
Lolo, Dodo, Joujou. Cloclo, Margot, Froufrou.
But when it comes to kisses
- Goodbye my fatherland. - He loves me alone.
Me alone.
Oh, how splendid!
Dull days ended!
If this were not the way to go, I'd never marry, no.
By no means, no, no, no, no, no!
Oh, how splendid!
Dull times ended!
If this were not the way to go, I'd never marry.
No, by no means, no.
Your Excellency.
You're in for the time of your life.
The grisettes of Paris greet you. And we're very pleased to meet you.
Lolo, Dodo, Joujou, Froufrou, Cloclo, Margot.
And me!
Find us where the lamps are burning Tripping down the boulevard.
Watching close at ev'ry turning Ev'ry cab and motor car.
Up and down on sentry go Where wild bloods and gentry go
Tripping lightly, chatting brightly. Pitter, patter, heel and toe.
Tiny shoes of shiny leather Twinkling in the lantern light.
Silk and sequin, frill and feather. Nodding down the street at night.
The grisettes of Paris greet you. And we're very pleased to meet you.
When the homing coaches rattle Any time from half past ten
Out we come and start the battle Laying traps to catch the men.
Then we try the other way Flashing legs in cabaret.
Laughing, glancing, chafing, dancing. Flirting till the break of day.
Life is never dull or idle Spreading nets for credit notes.
Butterflies, not caught, but catching, Catching men in petticoats.
The grisettes of Paris greet you. And we're very pleased to meet you.
Valencienne, my darling. Strut your stuff with me.
What talent! You really fit the bill. You're a born dance hall grisette.
God's gift, Count.
The Pontevedrian Embassy is out in force.
- And feels at home. - Not anymore.
- But Njegus! - Njegus, what's in your hand?
The tootsie of a floozy.
- No, your other hand. - Another wire for you.
- From whom? - The post office.
Oh, it's from the ministry itself.
Gentlemen, gather for an extraordinary session.
Count, it's special delivery. Try to decipher it.
If Glawari fortune not secure central bank is rupt.
There's only one solution.
We have to appeal to the patriotism of Widow Glawari.
We'll propose marriage to a fellow citizen.
I volunteer. For God and country!
Count, come over here.
I have a priority mission.
You must probe her heart. Appeal to Anna's patriotic vein.
I will sound her out and appeal and shout.
If Anna marries Rosillon, I'll enter the priesthood.
- You are a true patriot. - And live with the nuns.
Count me in!
Count!
Don't let me disturb you.
Njegus!
Come with me, ladies. I'll show you my stamp collection.
- Waiter! - Madam?
Could you arrange to have this whole crowd leave the room?
No, I can't. They're your guests.
- How about if I give you 5000? - In that case they were your guests.
- Maitre d'! - Maitre ici!
I'll give you 500 if you clear the joint.
Count, as a special favor to you, it's my pleasure.
- Maitre d'. - Come here.
If you manage to eject all of these good people,
I'll give you a 2.50 tip.
I can't possibly say no to such generosity.
Ladies and gentlemen, you are invited to grace our patio.
The fireworks are about to begin.
Danilo, knock on wood.
Save the fatherland!
Madam, I am delighted to find myself alone with you.
- We must discuss an urgent matter. - Urgent? Shoot.
Shoot? I forbid you to marry Rosillon.
- You forbid me? Why? - Because I say so.
Then allow me to name your ulterior motive.
I'll shoot.
- Because you love me. - Me? You?
- Don't laugh so heartily. - I only have one laugh.
You forbid me to marry?
If your 500 are expatriated you'll break Pontevedro.
Oh, your patriotism is nothing short of heroic.
Monsieur Rosillon will get my...
- Anna! ...no for an answer.
- No? But in the summer house. - It was another lady.
- Another? - A married lady.
I felt obliged to fill in for her to save her from being compromised.
- There's no remedy for that. - You aren't engaged to him?
I never was.
- You're free? - Yes.
Then you and I, Madam, I mean Annie.
Anna, I love...
- I can't spit it out. - My God!
Will you finally open your mouth and confess that you love me?
Love unspoken. Faith unbroken.
All life through.
Strings are playing. Hear them saying
Love me true.
Now the echo answers.
Say you want me too.
All the world's in love with love.
And I love you.
I hear the music play.
It carries me away.
All sorrow will have flown When you are mine and mine alone.
So that music seems to sing
(I'm still not saying anything.)
It's wanting you to know
I love you so.
Now the echo answers.
Say you want me too.
All the world's in love with love.
And I love you.
Now the echo answers.
Say you want me too.
All the world's in love with love.
And I love you.
Count.
Excuse me, Count. How did it go?
Your Excellency, gentlemen.
Madam Glawari and Rosillon
will not be married.
You are a diplomatic genius.
You deserve a lofty post.
What about the tryst?
How can a lady compromise herself that way?
- Pritschitsch. - Yes, dear.
Don't waste time gossiping. Forward. Double time.
Madam Glawari intervened to shield another lady's virtue.
- Who would that be? - I don't know.
Nobody we know is as suspect as my Olga.
Olga, you're always flirting.
Valencienne, my darling.
I have good news. About Madam Glawari and Rosillon.
They aren't marrying.
Monsieur Rosillon was not dallying with Madam Glawari.
She sacrificed herself for another lady.
As an understudy. But whose?
Your Excellency!
This evidence was at the scene?
- My fan! - I gave it to you.
- I lost it. - In the summer house?
- My wife's handwriting. - I'm lost.
Now I've got the picture.
Njegus, tell the truth. What happened in there?
Well, Your Excellency, it was like this.
But...
I've just been notified that it wasn't what it seemed.
Now it is obvious what happened. I've solved the mystery.
Lady, I'm filing for divorce. No, wait, the divorce is final.
Madam Glawari, I'm free for the asking.
I'm young, well preserved and happily divorced.
Permit me to ask on behalf of our beloved fatherland
for your hand in holy matrimony to have and to hold.
Allegretto, vivace. In the civil service!
Your Excellency, your proposal flatters me.
But marrying me won't do your fatherland any good.
It's my patriotic duty to inform you that the will of my late husband
states that if I remarry,
I forfeit his entire estate.
I don't want to claim any more of your time
Anna, you have no dough?
- None. - Anna, I love you!
- Better late than never. - Marrying for no money?
He always was an idealist.
You're a plutocra... A diplomatic failure.
Not so fast. My ex-husband's will has a hitch.
I forfeit the whole inheritance in favor of my new husband.
There's no remedy for that.
Anna, you little trickster.
I would have married you for double or nothing.
It's not all settled yet.
The fan is outstanding.
Please read everything that I wrote on the fan.
I'm a highly respectable wife.
I beg your pardon. I was not properly informed.
What to think, what to say, what to do?
It's a red-letter day if we knew!
Being male, we may fail, but we try.
Yes, we try, try, try, try, try.
Clutching hope, we must cope as we can.
Tho' we never let on to the man.
Tho' you sweat, tho' you slave They forget what you gave.
Then you're back where you first began.
Now the echo answers.
Say you want me too.
All the world's in love with love.
And I love you.
MöRBISCH LAKE FESTIVAL CHORUS AND BALLET
Copyright @ 2005 TITELBILD, Berlin Subtitlers: Alan Wildblood et al.