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It has three rooms and a kitchenette dedicated to hospitality.
NINOTCHKA: So it's your house?
LEON: Let's say I live in it.
It's such a pleasant little place.
It has all the comforts. Easy to reach, near the subway, bus, and streetcar...
Does it mean you want me to go there?
LEON: Please, don't misunderstand me.
NINOTCHKA: Then you don't want me to go there?
LEON: No. I didn't say that either. Nothing would please me more.
NINOTCHKA: Then why don't we go? You might be an interesting subject of study.
LEON: I'll do my best.
LEON: Good evening, Gaston.
Gaston: Good evening, monsieur.
NINOTCHKA: Is this what you call the butler?
NINOTCHKA: Good evening, comrade. This man is very old. You shouldn't make him work.
LEON: He takes good care of that.
NINOTCHKA: He looks sad. Do you whip him?
LEON: No, but the mere thought makes my mouth water.
NINOTCHKA: The day will come when you will be free.
Go to bed, little father, we want to be alone.
Gaston: Count d'Algout, there have been several telephone calls.
LEON: Go to bed, little father.
LEON: Now, may I offer you a drink?
NINOTCHKA: Thank you, I'm not thirsty.
LEON: Perhaps something to eat.
NINOTCHKA: I've had all the calories necessary for today.
LEON: Yes, all the calories.
NINOTCHKA: What do we do now?
LEON: Shall we have some music?
NINOTCHKA: Is that customary?
LEON: It helps. It has ever since King David wooed Bathsheba with his harp. Not being so fortunate as to have my harp at hand, I'll turn on the radio. If there's anything you'd like to study, please go ahead. I've nothing to conceal. This is my desk, these are my books, and here am I. Where shall we begin?
NINOTCHKA: I will start with you.
LEON: Excellent. Let's see, I'm 35 years old, just over 6 feet tall and weigh 182 pounds, stripped.
NINOTCHKA: What is your profession?
LEON: My profession? Keeping my body fit, keeping my mind alert and keeping the landlord appeased, that's a full-time job.
NINOTCHKA: And what do you do for mankind?
LEON: For mankind? Yes,
not so much for mankind but for womankind,
my record isn't quite so bleak.
NINOTCHKA: You are something we do not have in Russia.
LEON: Thank you. Glad you told me.
NINOTCHKA: That's why I believe in the future of my country.
LEON: I'm beginning to believe in it myself since I've met you. I still don't quite know what it's all about. It confuses me, frightens me. But it fascinates me. Ninotchka, do you like me just a little bit?
NINOTCHKA: Your general appearance is not distasteful.
LEON: Thank you.
NINOTCHKA: The whites of your eyes are clear. Your cornea is excellent.
LEON: Your cornea is terrific. Ninotchka, tell me. You're so expert on things. Can it be that I'm falling in love with you?
NINOTCHKA: Why must you bring in wrong values?
Love is a romantic designation for a most ordinary biological or shall we say chemical process.
A lot of nonsense is talked and written about it.
LEON: I see. What do you use instead?
NINOTCHKA: I acknowledge the existence of a natural impulse common to all.
LEON: What can I possibly do to encourage such an impulse in you?
NINOTCHKA: You don't have to do a thing.
Chemically, we are already quite sympathetic.
LEON: You are the most incredible creature I've ever met. Ninotchka. Ninotchka.
NINOTCHKA: You repeat yourself.
LEON: Yes, I'd like to say it 1,000 times. You must forgive me if I seem a little old-fashioned. After all, I'm just a poor bourgeois.
NINOTCHKA: It's never too late to change. I used to belong to the petite bourgeoisie myself.
NINOTCHKA: My father and mother wanted me to stay and work on the farm. But I preferred the bayonet.
LEON: The bayonet? Did you really?
NINOTCHKA: I was wounded before Warsaw.
LEON: Wounded, how?
NINOTCHKA: I was a sergeant in the Third Cavalry Brigade. Would you like to see my wound?
LEON: I'd love to.
NINOTCHKA: A Polish lancer. I was 16.
LEON: Poor Ninotchka.
NINOTCHKA: Don't pity me. Pity the Polish lancer. After all, I'm still alive.
LEON: What kind of a girl are you, anyway?
NINOTCHKA: Just what you see. A tiny cog in the great wheel of evolution.
LEON: You're the most adorable cog I've ever seen. Ninotchka, let me confess something. Never did I dream I could feel like this toward a sergeant. Do you hear that?
NINOTCHKA: It's 12:00.
LEON: It's midnight. Look at the clock. One hand has met the other hand. They kiss. Isn't that wonderful?
NINOTCHKA: That's the way a clock works. What's wonderful about it?
LEON: Ninotchka, it's midnight. One half of Paris is making love to the other half.
NINOTCHKA: You merely feel you must put yourself in a romantic mood to add to your exhilaration.
LEON: I can't possibly think of any better reason.
NINOTCHKA: That's false sentimentality.
LEON: You analyze everything out of existence. You'd analyze me out of existence, but I won't let you. Love isn't so simple, Ninotchka. Ninotchka, why do doves bill and coo? Why do snails, the coldest of all creatures circle interminably around each other? Why do moths fly hundreds of miles to find their mates? Why do flowers slowly open their petals? Ninotchka, surely you feel some slight symptom of the divine passion? A general warmth in the palms of your hands. A strange heaviness in your limbs. A burning of the lips that isn't thirst but something 1,000 times more tantalizing, more exalting than thirst.
NINOTCHKA: You are very talkative.
LEON: Was that talkative?
NINOTCHKA: No. That was restful. Again. Thank you.
NINOTCHKA: Smile, little father.
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