- Which rather begs the question how did you get in here?

- I'm a friend of the artist.

- Ah!

Me too.

Welcome.

I don't know your name.

- Max, Max Liebermann.

I didn't catch yours.

- I didn't give it.

(Clara laughs)

Now, that's art.

- [Max] Sorry?

- Her,

in gold.

Excuse me.

- But I prefer that...

- Thou art fairer than the evening air,

clad in the beauty of a thousand stars.

- How many times?

- I beg your pardon?

- Every gentleman in Vienna

knows two lines of poetry by heart.

How many times have you used it this week?

How many girls are fairer than the evening air?

- (speaking foreign language)

- Clara Weiss.

Clad in the beauty of, what was it?

- A thousand stars.

- [Clara] Yes.

(suspenseful music)