Original subtitles

SIX MORAL TALES

THE GIRL AT THE MONCEAU BAKERY

Paris, the corner of Avenue de Villiers.

To the east, Blvd. des Batignolles.

To the north,

Rue de Levis and its market.

The Dome de Villiers.

To the left, Ave. de Villiers.

The subway.

To the west, Blvd. de Courcelles.

It leads to the Park Monceau and

a demolition zone on the site of the former City Club,

a student residence.

I ate there every night while in law school.

And, Sylvie, who worked in a gallery Rue de Monceau,

walked home across the park.

I knew her only by sight. We passed each other often

between the intersection and the club.

We'd exchanged

furtive glances...

Don't look back!

I'm afraid she's a bit tall for me.

Schmidt, my friend, urged boldness.

But I was scared.

- Go ahead, take a chance! - What, pick her up?

- Why not? One never knows... - One should know.

She was not the type to let herself be picked up.

And it was hardly my style to try.

I felt she was ready

to make an exception to her rule, as I was to mine.

But there was a risk...

And I didn't want to botch it by not being myself.

Yes?

Long?

Longer than usual.

Listen, I'd like to follow her.

Don't! Go right up to her!

Right up to her?

I could see how much she meant to me.

It was May, near the end of the school year.

She had to live nearby.

We'd seen her a few times,

with a basket, doing her errands.

- See her? - Quiet!

What'd I say?

She may live around here.

Wait.

- Careful! - Don't worry.

She went into a shop.

She's ignoring us too carefully not to have noticed us.

Hell, I'll follow her!

Even if I'd managed it unseen,

would it have helped?

I'll catch up.

I'd decided it was all or nothing, when luck finally smiled on me.

There!

- What? - There!

There!

What?

No harm done.

We didn't really bump.

It's one of those days. I almost broke my neck there.

Wish I'd seen it.

I said I almost did.

Almost... I'm OK. The cars are so loud!

- I go that way. - And I, that way.

To make amends, meet me for coffee later?

I'm busy... another time. We see each other often.

Throughout our short talk, I had had one thought.

Keep her there.

Say anything. Don't worry about what she thinks...

which can't be good.

But my victory was clear.

I must say, I'd put something of myself in that bump.

She didn't seem offended...

on the contrary, she seemed to respond.

Her refusal was nothing,

since now I could speak to her when we met... soon...

Then, what I least expected happened.

My good luck

was followed by equally bad luck.

Three days, eight days passed...

I didn't see her.

Schmidt, with exams coming up,

went back to his family.

In love though I was,

the idea of giving up study time to look for Sylvie

never occurred to me.

My only free time was meal time,

so I gave up dinner.

Dinner took 30 minutes, and my walk 3,

so my chances of seeing her were multiplied by 10.

But the blvd seemed a poor vantage point.

She could easily go another way, I didn't know...

how she travelled. She could come by subway or bus.

But, she could not have stopped going to the market.

So I decided to extend the area I searched to Rue de Lévis.

Besides, I must say,

these late-afternoon patrols were hot, dull and tiring.

The market offered variety, coolness,

and the strong argument of food.

My stomach tempted me. Tired of cafeterias,

and anticipating vacation, it craved,

the gastronomic interlude which cherry season offers.

The market's smells and sounds,

after so many hours of books and mimeographs,

were more relaxing than the club and its mess hall smells.

But my search was still in vain,

thousands lived there.

It is probably one of the most crowded areas in Paris.

Should I stay put?

Should I walk around?

I was young, and foolishly, I hoped

to suddenly see her appear in a window

or emerge from a shop,

and, once again, find herself face to face with me.

So I decided to stroll around.

And I discovered,

on Rue Lebouteux,

a little bakery

where I got in the habit of buying cookies and pastries

which were the mainstay of my meals.

Go on Jackie, get going, understand?

Let me work!

Oh that guy!

Worthless.

You should talk! Go get dressed.

I'm not naked.

What an idiot!

A cookie.

He gets on my nerve.

- Which one? - That one.

To go?

That's right.

40 centimes.

The cookies were the same as at any bakery.

They're made in a factory and found anywhere.

But here I could eat without being seen by Sylvie...

who, in the crowded market, might appear unexpectedly...

Besides, buying my pastry had become a ritual

between me and the girl at the bakery.

At my age, you hate nothing more than shopping.

I like to enter

a store as if going in

for the first time.

But, I'm flattered when the girl notices and plays along.

Hello, Miss. A cookie.

40 centimes?

And still no sign of Sylvie.

Was she avoiding me? Why, for God's sake?

Was she in the country? Sick?

Dead? Married?

Anything was possible.

By the end of the week, my vigil was a formality.

I hurried to my bakery,

taking special care with my entries,

my slowness, my idiosyncrasies.

Two cookies?

Darn!

Don't worry. Wrap them separately.

There.

Wait, I think I've got the change.

It didn't take long to see the pretty bakery girl liked me.

But, call it conceit if you will,

the fact that a girl liked me seemed natural.

And, since she didn't fit my standards,

and Sylvie alone,

SO superior, held my thoughts...

It was because I was thinking of Sylvie

that I accepted the advances of the girl at the bakery

in a much better spirit than if I had not loved another.

Yes, a cookie.

And a roll.

And, let's see, give me that one.

Wait...

yes... what's that called?

A "gateau lorrain".

Anything else?

That's all.

Separately?

But not the cookie.

And wait,

give me... an apricot tart.

I got more involved in this every day,

sure that it couldn't go very far.

And it was as good a way as any both to pass the time

and to get back at Sylvie.

However, this revenge seemed unworthy of me.

I ended up becoming irritated with the girl at the bakery.

What shocked me was not that she liked me,

but that she could think I'd like her,

at all.

And to justify myself in my own eyes,

I told myself it was her fault.

She must learn not to play with fire.

My courtship became a daily routine, in a relaxed atmosphere.

Her early coyness didn't put me off at all.

Delicious! I could eat nothing but cakes.

Me too.

I'll buy you one.

No thank you.

Come on!

The boss isn't here?

She's making dinner.

So what are you afraid of?

I'd think that seeing pastries all day, you'd hate them.

I've only been here a month.

I won't be here long, you know.

In September, I start at the "Galeries Lafayette".

You're here all day long?

Until 8:00.

What do you do evenings?

Do you want to go out with me?

I just turned 18.

So? Your parents don't let you go out?

OK. There was an apricot tart,

a baba, and add an apple tart.

My exams were almost over. I'd be going on vacation.

Want any help?

Embarrassed? Afraid we'll be seen?

No... anyway, I'm leaving in a month.

Do you mind if I walk with you a bit?

Come in here. I want to tell you something.

Have I done anything?

No, I told you, it's not that.

Let's go out. Tomorrow.

Leave me alone.

Why?

I don't know you.

We'll get acquainted.

Do I seem so bad?

No strings attached.

We'll go to a movie,

on the Champs-Elysées. Do you ever go?

Yes, Saturday.

Let's go Saturday.

I'm going with friends.

Boys?

Boys... girls... They're silly.

All the more reason. Saturday?

No, not Saturday.

Another day. Parents keep you in?

No, I hope not!

So, tomorrow?

We'll have dinner, then go to the Champs-Elysées.

I'll meet you at 8:00 at the café,

the Dome, all right?

Should I dress?

No... you're fine like that. All right?

Mother may not like it...

But you said...

Yes, in theory...

Say it's a girl friend.

I don't know...

Maybe...

Are you romantic?

Romantic.

I'll come by tomorrow at 7:30.

In case we can't talk in the bakery,

here's what we'll do. I'll ask...

for a cake,

give me two if it's OK.

Then we'll meet at the café at 8:00. Got it?

No mistakes. Repeat it.

If I give you two cakes, it's yes.

Good. I'll leave now.

I'll go first.

What's your name?

Goodbye, Jacqueline.

There.

I had what I wanted.

But things took a serious turn I hadn't counted on.

This girl lacked that easygoing quality

to ease my conscience.

What had I gotten into?

I was leaving Paris,

and not much could happen before then.

I had other worries. The next day, a Friday,

I took my oral exam, and passed.

I almost didn't go to my date.

But none of my friends were around,

and the thought of an evening alone...

A cookie.

How are you?

What's wrong? Are you hurt?

A bad sprain that's dragged on 3 weeks.

How annoying.

No wonder I didn't see you.

I saw you yesterday but you were lost in thought.

Really.

Let's go here.

In an instant, I made my decision.

Have you eaten?

Not a bite.

Heat makes me hungry.

Your privilege.

Want to eat together?

Why not? I'll just be a minute. I'm on the 2nd floor.

I'll wait.

That minute lasted 15,

and I had time to dwell on my rashness.

I could have put Sylvie off a day, seen the other tonight...

But my choice had been, above all, moral.

With Sylvie found, seeing the other would be vice,

an aberration.

One represented truth,

the other a mistake or that was how

I saw it at the time.

To complicate things,

rain began to fall.

Which in fact is what saved me.

It will be exactly 8:00...

You can't walk. I'll get a cab.

You won't be able to. I can walk.

Really?

The street was empty.

The girl at the bakery could see us, if she came out.

Like a coward, I thought

she'd be too far away for a scene.

I didn't dare turn, and the walk seemed endless.

Did she see us, or was she waiting at the café?

I'll never know.

As for winning Sylvie. I had already.

I learned how that very evening.

And you know I was entertained.

I can't stand people who pace in front of my door.

Yes, you may not know it,

but my windows open onto the street.

I saw it all.

I trembled a moment, but she went on.

You're hateful.

I almost felt guilty.

After all, I couldn't call out to you.

If you want to ruin your stomach with those cookies!

They're good.

I know. I've tried them.

I know all your vices.

What'll you have?

A chef's pastry.

We were married 6 months later,

and lived for a while on the Rue Lebouteux.