All language subtitles for La.Ronde.1950.1080p.BluRay.x265.HEVC.FLAC-SARTRE_[ENG]

And I, what have I to do with
this story, La Ronde?

Am I the author?

The compére?

A passer-by?

I am you, any one of you.

The incarnation of your desire...
your desire to know everything.

People never grasp reality
in its entirety.

Why? Because they see only
one aspect of things.

I see them all, because I see...
in the round.

This enables me to be everywhere
at once. Everywhere.

But where are we now?

On a stage?

In a studio?

Who can tell?

In a street.

We're in Vienna... 1900.

A change of clothes

1900... we are in the past.

I adore the past.

It's so much more restful
than the present...

...so much more reliable
than the future.

There's the sun.

It's springtime.

You can tell that the scent
of love is in the air, can't you?

What else before love can begin
its round? A waltz.

Here is the waltz.

The waltz whirls,
the carousel whirls...

...and the rounds of love can begin.

The world's a stage
that spins and spins.

Clouds fall to earth as rain.

Rainwater turns to clouds again.

Respectable woman or susceptible jade.

Gentleman of leisure
or soldier by trade.

All are led the same merry dance.

When love chooses its victims of chance.

Now the carousel is under way.

As twilight marks the end of day.

See here come the lady of sin.

And the rondo of love can begin.

- Coming with me, handsome?
- You misunderstand, Madame.

- Madame? Are you having me on?
- I never have anyone on.

- Are you coming or not, then?
- I'm not playing the game.

- The game?
- I spin the wheel.

You understand? It starts with you.

So position yourself at the
corner of the street, if you will.

You hear that?

Yes, it's the army... soldiers again.

There always are soldiers.

But your one is the sixth.

- He'll be like all the rest.
- Yes, but he'll go with you.

The Tart and the Soldier.

Coming with me, handsome?
Don't you want to?

"Handsome"? Me?

Who do you think I mean? I live
close by; come and warm up a bit.

I must return to barracks.

You've time and it's nicer at my place

- I bet it is.
- Not so loud, there are cops about.

Are you joking? I've a short way
with cops.

- A scrapper, are you?
- A bit.

- Leave me alone, I've no money.
- I don't want money.

Are you Rothschild's daughter?

No, but civilians pay;
for boys like you it's free.

Free?

You must be the one Michel
met... at the Schiffsgasse café

I've met more than one of
you boys there.

All right, but hurry.

You can't wait now it's free.
You could at least give me a kiss.

- Been in the army long?
- Do you want my life story?

- Where do you live?
- Ten minutes walk away.

You said it was close.

It is if you like me.

I like you, but it's too far.

Come and see me tomorrow, then.

Give me your address.

- No, you won't come.
- I tell you I will.

If my place is too far, come over here.

No one will bother us

- I don't like it here.
- I like it anywhere.

This is losing time.

Watch your feet; this is suicide corner.

You're a funny little thing.

- There's a bench over there.
- We're not standing on ceremony.

I'd have liked a boy like you.

No, I'm the jealous type.

Sorry, this is my first disguise.

Don't start that row again!

Seen Franz? He's got my spurs

Franz is otherwise engaged.

Yes, and taking rather too long
about it.

Not so fast

I'll be on a charge.

- At least tell me your name.
- What's the difference?

- I'm Léocadie.
- That's a weird one.

Not even a farewell cigarette?

I've run out. Good night!

Some night I'd have if they were
all as hard-up as you.

Go on, miser! Look how the
bastard runs!

Look at him running away! The
bastard! Not even a cigarette!

That's men for you!

Just in time to keep the carousel going.

Hurry, or you'll catch it.

What's it to you?

You mustn't be confined
to barracks on Saturday.

Hurry!

Back to barracks the soldier goes.

But the time till Saturday
quickly flows.

And at the dance-hall once again free.

He meets Mademoiselle Marie.

I didn't want to at first, remember?

It's not my fault you're so sweet.

You're the nicest little armful of
all tonight, Mademoiselle Marie.

Sampled them all, did you?

You can tell, just by dancing.

You danced more with that
frightful blonde than with me.

Five times. I was beginning
to wonder...

...how you could like dancing
with that awful face.

Her brother's a friend of mine.

- The one with the waxed moustache?
- No, with the gravelly voice.

That proves nothing.

It means she's out of bounds.
Let's sit down.

No, Monsieur Franz, it's too dark here.

- Fear not, I am with you.
- That's just it.

You must learn to trust me.

We haven't known each other long enough.

We know each other as well as
some married couples.

There's a seat.

Taken!

Don't be afraid.

There's another bench;
let's sit for a while.

All right, if you'll be good,
Franz. Promise?

Listen, pal...

Sorry, sir.

I think I left my sword on the seat.

Remember: A soldier should
never be parted from his sword.

It was only a minute...

Even so, a sword is a sword.

Don't let it happen again.

- You're so masterful.
- That's how one commands men.

As for pretty women...

- What's wrong?
- I'm buckling my sword

Franz, you're a bad boy.

- Do you love me?
- Of course.

- What's the rush?
- To get back.

- Where?
- The dance.

There's no point in hanging
about the park any more.

Do you really love me, Franz?

Listen to the music.

- You want to dance
- Why not?

I can't, I must get back.
I'll catch it, as it is.

My mistress doesn't like me going out.

If you must, you must.

I thought you'd see me home.

You want me to go with you?

It's so dreary going all alone.

Where's the house where you work?

In the Porzellangasse.

That's on my way.

But I don't want to go just yet;
I've a pass until midnight.

I see. It's that frightful
blonde's turn now

I don't think she's so frightful.

Men are horrible.

Please, Franz, no more dancing tonight.

Stay with me a little longer.

Sit and wait for me if you like.
Are you thirsty?

A beer for the young lady, please.

I don't want to dance any more tonight.

I don't know you. Who are you?

Nobody. Or, rather, anybody.

- What do you want?
- To ask you to take a little walk.

I must get back

I'm afraid you are going to be
sacked for sneaking out

I'll have to find another job, won't I?

You'll find one, believe me.

No better and no worse than any other.

But two months from now,
fate will be very kind to you.

Where are we? Where are you taking me?

We are taking a little stroll
through time.

Two months. That's a long time.

You are there already. Just look.

This is the house.

Go upstairs... go on.

It's your new job.

Are you sure? Really?

I'm sure. Go on, pluck up your courage.

You're not going to leave me alone?

I must; but don't worry,
your soldier will be much nicer to you.

Let's hope it's not too late.

Waltz and turn.

It is his turn now to adore.

But your heart is a bit flighty.

And worships another more.

The Maid and the Young Man.

Dear Mademoiselle Marie
I got your new address.

I'm glad your new employers
are nice But how old is the son?

I saw you yesterday when
we were on parade.

You didn't acknowledge my sign.

Was that on purpose
or didn't you see me?

Dear Monsieur Franz.

Monsieur and Madame are away
so I've plenty of time to write.

I was so glad to get your letter.

But how old is the son?

You rang, Monsieur Alfred?

Yes, Marie, I rang.
What was it I wanted?

Oh yes, would you close the shutters,
please?

It won't be so hot.

You're very brave, Monsieur Alfred...

...working in this weather.

Bring me a glass of water.

Let it run until it's nice and cold.

Don't spill it.

- I wonder what time it is?
- Nearly five, Monsieur Alfred.

Marie... didn't I hear the doorbell?

No, are you expecting someone?

Yes. You know Professor Schuller?

The man with the beard
who came two days ago?

Yes, he comes twice a week, at five.

He's coaching me in French.
What time is it?

A quarter to five.

Well, he's always a bit late.

- I thought...
- What did you think, sir?

It's just that your bodice...

Don't you like my bodice, sir?

It's blue, isn't it?

You dress very nicely.

- Aren't you too hot?
- It's broad daylight, sir.

You're quite right, Marie.

Don't mind me.

You're so lovely,
you don't have to mind anyone.

Oh Marie, your hair smells so nice.

I saw you one evening, you know,
when I came home very late.

I went to the kitchen for some water.

The door of your room was open, so...

I saw things.

Your skin is so white.

Suppose someone rings?

We won't answer.

Which floor, sir?

The third.

The lady and gentleman are away

I know; it's their son I'm to see.

He isn't in.

But he told me he wasn't going
with his parents.

He must have changed his mind.

No, he's expecting me.

Really?

Who are you, anyway?

You wouldn't know me; I'm new.

No one's there, I assure you.

I imagine you'll find that
the shutters are closed.

Well, thank you for saving me the climb.

Don't thank me; just keeping it going.

Keeping what going?

The carousel, Professor.

The carousel?

I'm sure someone rang.

Go and see.

Nobody's there.

He can't have come.

How very fortunate.

I'm going for a walk;
I need to take the air.

I feel ten years older.

Enjoy your walk, Monsieur Alfred.

You're not angry with me?

I'm sure I'll be seeing you again.

- Naturally. Why do you say that?
- No reason

I'll see you later.

Yes, Monsieur Alfred.

Soon after that gala day.

Seized by love's dizzy sway.

The young man's eager head.

Was turned by one already wed.

Whirl and whirl, my manikins.

Oft of love the young man sings.

But virtue stills his fevered pleas.

When he craves boons she flees.

If flowers have their subtle charms.

Here are roses in his arms.

Yet not quite enough to sway.

Her modesty from virtue's way.

A sip of wine that intoxicates.

Would soon lure to heaven's gates.

But a lady of such airy graces.

Does not drink in public places.

So pay the rent.

On discreet rooms.

The key is lent.

And new hope looms.

One fine day at the appointed hour.

Burning with ardour he enters the bower.

He waits as blithe as a bird.

Today she has given her word.

Wait for me.

Five minutes.

The Young Man and the Married Woman.

Shut the door quickly.

Were you followed?

I hope not, I changed cabs three
times. What madness.

What time is it?

A quarter to six. You're not late.

What a nice place you have.

So cosy.

- Is it really your place?
- Well, yes... at present.

- Since when?
- For some time.

Won't you sit down?

Yes, I'm so nervous I can hardly stand.

You'll feel better with your cape off.

And your veil.

Two.

You'll feel better with your hat off.

You're more lovely than ever.

How sweet. Do you love me?

How can you doubt it?

Then prove it by letting me go.

I am here as you wished.
You promised to behave.

- And now good-bye.
- Don't torture me, Emma.

- The five minutes are over.
- Barely five seconds.

What time is it? Five to six.
I should be at my sisters.

Let her wait; you see her every day.

Oh Alfred, why did I listen to you?

I've thought about you so often,
Emma, and I know you're unhappy.

Life is so dreary.

So empty and so brief,
so terribly brief.

Unless love happens to cross one's path.

Who could have foreseen this
a week ago, even yesterday?

Yet two days ago you promised.

You hadn't yet turned my head then.

Yesterday I wrote you a letter,
breaking it off

I never received it

I tore it up. I should have sent it.

Good-bye, Alfred; we must not
meet again.

What is behind that door?

It's... a room.

What sort of room?

Another drawing-room.

Two drawing-rooms?

Yes, it's a large apartment.

I am going to ask you a question,
Alfred.

Promise to answer truthfully?

Have other women been here?

Well, the building is over
fifty years old...

You know quite well what I mean.

Never, Emma,
never. As I explained to you...

So it was especially for me that you...

- Was that wrong?
- Not at all.

What are you making me do?

What time is it? It must be late.

I'd like something to drink...
a glass of water.

Wouldn't you rather have something...

Anything

I'm afraid I broke the cork.

The other room, I meant to tell you...

You gave me such a fright.

Don't worry about it, darling.

But I was certain... I've been
like a mad man all day.

Have you read Stendhal?

Yes, Stendhal's book, On Love.

It reveals something
very characteristic.

Some cavalry officers describe
their amatory adventures.

Do you follow me?

Yes, what about their adventures?

Well, they all say...

...that it's with the women
they most desired...

...that it happened... you know,
what happened to me.

It's very characteristic, isn't it?

Furthermore, only one of them claims...

...that it didn't happen to him.

Maybe it was true.

Ah, but Stendhal says he's a braggart

I don't see why there shouldn't be one.

Wait, you haven't heard the best of it.

Just imagine, one of these
cavalry officers says...

...he spent three nights with
the woman he truly desired...

...or maybe it was six,
I don't recall...

Three, I expect.

But you don't know what comes next.

No, but I expect it was three.

Anyway, this officer and the
woman he loved were together...

...for three nights...

...and all they did was weep.

They wept? Both of them?

They wept for joy...

...happy just to be together.

Don't you find that understandable?

I think it's natural in lovers.

Surely there are some who don't weep?

Yes, of course.

Oh good, because I thought
Stendhal meant...

...that all cavalry officers wept.

You're making fun of me.

Not at all. Don't be cross.

You saying that makes me cross.

- You'll make yourself ill.
- Pile it on!

No, really, I think it's sweet
just to remain good friends.

- That's the last straw!
- What can I say, then?

Let's maintain a symbolic silence.

What time is it, Alfred darling?

The time's long past.

Where's your watch?

In my waistcoat.

Where's your waistcoat?

No, Alfred... I must go.

It must be terribly late.

It was so nice just being friends.

There, that's better now.

Eight o'clock! Luckily the cab
has waited for me.

- Because you told him to.
- Five minutes, I told him.

He knows this life

I know this place.

See you tomorrow at the
Lobheimers? We'll dance the first waltz.

I wouldn't dare.

- Here, then, the day after.
- You're mad, darling.

You want to come back?

Let's discuss it tomorrow,
dancing the first waltz.

I'm a married woman's lover!

The Married Woman and her Husband.

- What are you doing?
- I'm reading Stendhal.

- Is it a good book?
- Very instructive.

Nine hundred payable on the
fifteenth...

A credit of 4,100 due for September...

- What's the matter?
- I should ask you that.

Me? Why?

You look so lovely, quite transformed.

Was I plain before?

You were young; you've blossomed.

You're very gallant tonight.

Business is booming.

Ah yes, of course.

Husbands have their worries, you know.

Are you working or talking?

I'm working, naturally.

I'm going to sleep.

Emma... do you remember Venice?

Yes, our honeymoon.

It was nice.

Turn up the light.

I wanted to explain something to you.

You see, husbands...

No, that's not it.

Husbands cannot always be lovers.

There is a time for everything.

Periods of calm in which
one remains friends.

And other times not quite so... calm.

We have known spells of both
kinds; that's how it should be.

I didn't say no, I said oh.

Mind you...

No, I've said that before.

It's as it should be, because
without periods of calm...

...there wouldn't be any...
not quite so calm ones.

You understand?

It's perfectly clear.

Seasonal change is
the very basis of life.

Conjugal love, you see is...
how shall I put it?

Marriage... marriage is
a perplexing mystery.

Young ladies of good family...

...you come to us pure and innocent.

We have our experience,
but bought at what cost.

The creatures to whom we
are forced to turn in our youth.

We have no choice.

Tell me about these creatures;
they interest me very much.

Are you joking?

No, I've often asked to hear about
your youth... with these creatures.

No, Emma, you don't understand;
it would be a sort of desecration.

But it was so long ago.

Did you have a married woman?

What do you mean?

I think the question is clear.

Yes, but what makes you ask
such a question?

Do you know one of these...

- Married women?
- Faithless wives.

How should I know?

- One of your friends?
- I don't know, Charles.

Has one confided in you?

No, no one.

Do you suspect one of them?

I can't think of anyone.

Is that true?

Promise me this, Emma.

Never associate with a woman you
suspect may not be irreproachable

I know you would avoid such company,
but a woman of doubtful reputation...

...tends to cultivate respectability
in the acquaintances she chooses.

Suffering a sense of deep
humiliation, she yearns...

...for her lost virtue.

Do you think so?

I know so. Think of her perilous
life of lies and deception.

She pays dear for her moment
of... not even happiness...

Of pleasure?

How can you call it pleasure?

Well, I assume so, otherwise...

But it's an aberration;
yes, a moment of aberration.

Of which you took advantage?

Yes, once.

Who was it? Long ago?

Very long ago.

She is dead.

Dead?

These women always die young.

- Are you sure they die young?
- It's a fact. It's justice.

Did you love her?

One does not love such women.

One can truly love...

...only in truth and purity.

That's true.

What time is it?

Who cares, with our lives before us?

How reassuring.

Remember Venice.

Give me your hand.

The Husband and...

...the Little...

How shall I put it?

The Little Milliner?

No, she's not a working girl.

The Little Cocotte?

No, she's no cocotte; she's
a sweet little thing.

You simply don't understand

I'm only a beginner, sir.

Experience of life is all it takes.

Certainly, Monsieur Breitkopf.

How do you know my name?

I had the honour to serve you
when I was with Wachtl at Mayerling.

Mayerling... then you know
my culinary preferences?

Certainly, Monsieur Breitkopf.
And to drink?

Champagne, naturally.

Prawns... venison... pineapple...

Why not? She is young.

Are you thirsty?

What must you think of me?

Because this is a private room...

...and because I accepted at once.

What could happen in a restaurant?
The waiter could come in any time.

I adore prawns.

It prickles.

- Nice here, isn't it?
- It's classy.

Tell me, have you ever been in
a private dining-room before?

Do you really want to know?
Well, yes, I have.

But not like you think;
with a friend and her intended.

I'd have seen no harm even if
you had said...

...your boyfriend

I haven't any boy-friend. I swear it.

Do you expect me to believe...

There hasn't been anyone for six months.

Who was he?

He looked like you.

Otherwise...

You mean that otherwise you
wouldn't have let me speak to you?

He had such charm.

You talk just like him
and you have the same eyes.

What did he do for a living?

For a living?

Oh, those eyes of yours!

You, too, remind me of someone.

My youth.

My glass is empty.

Wait, there must be a little left.

How old are you?

More important, how old are you?
Eighteen?

No, nineteen.

- And you? Thirty?
- Just about, yes.

There must be something in
the champagne.

My head is spinning.

What if I can't get up again?

I adore you.

The bill, sir.

Tell me... you saw the girl?

I noticed the young lady
when you arrived, sir.

- Do you know her?
- No, I've never seen her before

I've been wondering...

After all,
I know nothing of her. A foolish infatuation.

There should be no call for regrets.

- You think so?
- In my experience, sir.

Oh dear, that champagne.

What must you think of me?

Simply that you like me.

But really, that champagne...

When two young people feel attracted,
spiked champagne is not needed...

I was just using the champagne
as an excuse, like people do.

I'm a bit ashamed.

But I resemble your first love,
don't I?

Was he a lieutenant?

No, he left the army.
His father has a café.

Do you realize it's half-past
eleven? Think of your mother.

- You've had enough of me?
- No, but you said...

I don't even know your name.

You're not the same any more, Charles.

My umbrella.

- Will I see you soon?
- I only come to Vienna occasionally.

I bet you're married.

They usually are when they
"come to Vienna occasionally".

Don't you regret seducing
a married man?

No, his wife's probably doing the same

I forbid you to say that!

So you do have a wife.

Whether I have or not, your joke
is in very bad taste.

Seriously, though, I'd like to
see you often.

I must be sure of you,
but I can't keep an eye on you all the time.

Men like you don't turn up every day.

True, but you're... you're not
naive so much as young.

Unscrupulous tempters
lie in wait for girls like you.

So, although I do not live in Vienna...

...we could come to an arrangement,
provided...

...your love is for me alone.

We could find a little nest for you...

...where I would join you
on each of my visits.

I could afford a place...
rented, of course.

I would suggest a quiet district
but a nice one.

A lovely house with a
fine hallway waxed floors

beautifully polished brasses
and an imposing staircase.

See the welcome mat is set.

It is for our young grisette.

She has found a poet's charms.

More alluring than the husband's arms.

Are all poets like you?

The truly great, but we are few

I'm a bit scared.

You find me impressive?

Won't you light the other candles?

We are bathed in an
ocean of light all day long...

...from which we emerge to throw
the cloak of night about us.

Cloak is too prosaic, don't you think?

Me? I don't know.

What sublime incomprehension!

Let's see... cloak, wrapper of night...

Starry shawl, that's it Let's see... cloak,
wrapper of night...

Starry shawl, that's it.

- Why starry?
- Be quiet!

Don't say a word.

Can you write in the dark?

By the light of my inspiration, yes.

Let's see: Ocean... light...

You're writing it down?

Inspiration, alas, has but
a short memory.

It dogs us, this forced marriage
of poetic throe and prosaic chore.

Yes, perfect: Poetic throe and
prosaic chore. Are you thirsty?

- No, hungry.
- I wish you were thirsty.

Why? I tell you I'm hungry.

Drinks I have. Shall I go for sausages?

No, not sausages.

Dinner in a private room?

Again? It must be a craze with men.

You've dined in a private room?
With a seducer?

No, with a friend and her intended,
see?

No, I don't see. I can't
even see if you're blushing.

I suspect you're lying,
but I can't see you at all.

You should have set me down in writing.

How incredibly profound; you have
defined the entire tragedy of desire.

- Can't you talk like other people?
- I've never tried.

First tell me if you love me.

Yes, I love you.

- Why?
- Because you're not like the rest.

It shows?

It's audible. For you,
love seems to be something...

Immaterial. Take off your dress.
Take it off, I said.

Night is here with her veil,
sprinkling the galaxy at our feet.

So take off your dress,
take everything off.

But I'm cold.

Night restores to us fifty suns
hidden by the day.

Imagine we are in a mysterious
Indian palace.

The Indian nights are warm;
take off your chemise.

A heavy, sultry humidity envelops us.

Do you love me?

The bill.

- What time is it?
- A little after eleven.

- I make it five to twelve.
- So do I.

- Something must have kept her.
- Yes, sir. Nothing serious.

- You think so?
- I'm sure of it.

Not thirsty, sir?

Zealous blast on zephyr breeze
alike will please the pallid trees

when blanched their branches dance
'neath winter's snowy circumstance.

Now I shall offer you a dazzling gift

I shall reveal my name: Kuhlenkampf.

Astounded, are you not?

Why? It's quite an ordinary name.

Don't you know the name?

Is it true you write plays?
Plays they perform in theatres?

My child, you are beauty,
simplicity, life.

- What if I were a butcher's boy?
- I'd love you just the same.

Swear you did not know I was
Kuhlenkampf

I told you I didn't.

You melt me to tears.
Forget what I told you

I am not Kuhlenkampf;
I am simply Robert

I'm not a writer, but a clerk,
pianist in a café by night.

Our love shall endure eternally
in simple grandeur.

What café do you play in?

No more questions. Come away with me,
for three months or three weeks.

What about your boss? And my mother?

Let them console each other.

We shall live in the forest, naked,
eating fruit, drinking from streams.

Then we shall say farewell.

Why farewell? I thought...

True love must have its farewell.

You shall see Kuhlenkampf's play.

He's my friend. Afterwards I shall
hear your opinion of this great work.

The Poet and the Actress.

Why did you cut the last line again?

"Our love shall endure eternally
in simple grandeur."

No one says such things.

Why did you send Carlotta away?

So that I could kiss you.
Tonight is ours, isn't it?

Do you really want to go?
It's two hours drive by sleigh.

It was you who made me reserve
the rooms.

I don't know why two rooms.

One never knows the turn of events.

To my place, then.

It will be cold with no fire.

Your place?

Are you joking? What about my mother?

To the sleighs, then.

- Can you tell me the time, please?
- A little after eleven.

- I make it five to twelve.
- So do I.

Why do you play with me?
You are talent, beauty, life...

- Because I'm an actress.
- Can't you forget the theatre?

Why forget it? What would either
of us be without the theatre?

A man and a woman.

And you think a man and a woman
would go away as we plan to...

...if they weren't of the theatre.

In other words, you don't
love me any more.

And you?

You're right. Ah, redoubtable theatre!

We know all our lines.

You chose that inn for its memories,
didn't you?

You'll spend the evening
comparing memories of a past love...

...banishing me to my room twenty times.

But you will not be banished the
twenty-first time, you know that.

You know, and I love you for it.

- Do you love those who don't know?
- All of them

a

my manikins.

The world's a stage
that spins and spins.

Clouds fall to earth as rain.

Rain water turns to clouds again.

The Actress and the Count.

Is that you, Count? Just one moment.

I come at your mother's suggestion,
or I would not have dared...

Do sit down.

May I offer my respects?

Yesterday I saw you on stage
for the first time.

Only yesterday?

Yes, we are still dining when
performances start, so...

May I return to bed?

Please be seated.

You were saying?

That I dine late.

Then you must dine later.

Or not at all; there is
no pleasure in dining.

And what does offer pleasure
at your age?

Count Bobby and I often discuss that.

Love?

Love is an illusion.

And happiness?

More talked of than fact,
I fear; there is no such thing.

How very true.

Unlike sensual pleasure.

Which, like intoxication,
is a fact; I know I have experienced it.

And when it's over, it's over.

Between unknown future and mournful past,
we cling to the present.

One loses direction... do you
follow me?

Sit closer by me.

Where may I put my helmet?

I knew you would come today

I knew it at the theatre yesterday.

Didn't you realize I was
acting for you alone?

You saw me there?

Unfasten your sword.

No, give it to me.

Ask me something.

Have I your permission to return
tonight?

Why put off till tonight...

Well, love-making in the morning... no,
I see matters differently.

How do you see matters?

I shall wait in my carriage by the
stage-door. We shall dine, return...

Then things will take their
natural course.

You're so sweet. Don't you
find it warm here?

Undo this, quickly.

It's dark enough to imagine
that it's night.

And no one can see us, except ourselves.

Censorship.

May I return to bed?

The day after tomorrow, shall we say?

Why then? You said tonight.

What I said would be meaningless
now... morally speaking, I mean.

Morally speaking, I must see you
tonight.

I have something to say about our souls.

Then I shall wait at the stage-door.

No, you will wait here. In my bedroom.

No supper at the Imperial?

No, there would be no
philosophical significance in that.

Very well.

I must take my leave. I trust
I have not outstayed my welcome.

Delighted to have made your
acquaintance, Count.

Please tender my respects
to your mother.

- Haven't I seen you before?
- Perhaps; I get about.

Have you served here long?

I do not serve. Love of art
brings me here.

- And what art is that?
- Love.

Love of the art of love.

Most amusing. Good-bye.

Towards what love are you headed
now, Count?

Where was I headed last night?
Certainly not to her place

I was alone no I was with Count Bobby.

I was in a pitiful state.

I didn't go to the stage-door
I supped alone with Harras.

A lively occasion I believe.

A joyous company at my heels
Katie Doudeu and Harras of course.

And that woman? No I didn't
follow that woman

I wanted to be alone
certainly didn't follow no.

When it's over, it's over.

No idea where I am.

Good morning, handsome. Slept well?

Young or old, does it matter to you?

I'm sleepy.

I know... who you remind me of

I remind you of someone.

The same eyes.

It's hallucinating.

Let me kiss your eyes before I go.

Tell me, doesn't it upset you?

The fact that we didn't...

Oh, there are lots of men like that.

It's the wrong time of day,
that's all. Anyway, I know you're attracted.

Good-bye, soldier.

How do you know I'm attracted?

Well, last night.

Didn't I collapse on the sofa
last night?

Yes, you did.

With me.

Don't you remember?

You'd had quite a skinful.

Am I more like her than before?

Less... less than before.

One loses direction... do you
follow me?

Don't you salute officers any more?

I had to have those salute each other.

The circuit is closed.

So the carousel ends.

In less than two hours.

And I tell you my friends.

Its story is ours