Original subtitles

WINNER OF THE 'LOUIS DELLUC' AWARD

BEST FRENCH FILM OF THE YEAR

SIX MORAL TALES

5th - CLAIRE'S KNEE

MONDAY, JUNE 29TH

Jérome!

Aurora!

- See? Anything's possible. - With me it is.

I expected to run into you in Paris, but not here.

You're living here now?

Yes, I found a room in a village. I'm on vacation.

- Where? Near the lake? - Talloires.

Then weíre neighbors. Are you in the town?

The far end of the lake.

I have a house there where I spent vacations as a child.

I'm here to sell it. I expect to stay three weeks.

I searched everywhere for you. Are you no longer in Paris?

I am, but I moved. Are you still in Morocco?

No, Sweden. What are you doing on this bridge?

You know itís the Lovers' Bridge?

My coffee grounds predicted an encounter, but it was only you.

You didnít even recognize me. Have I changed that much?

Not at all. You're prettier and younger than ever.

But I was steering the boat,

and besides, I donít look at the ladies anymore.

Thatís right. I'm getting married.

I'll tell you everything over lunch,

and then I'll take you home, if the idea doesnít frighten you.

How strange that weíve never crossed paths since.

Weíve spent our vacations since 1945 in Brittany.

Last time I played with your brothers, I was 12.

Philippe was very nice, but Bernard was really mean.

But you were never there. - I was 15. I despised young boys.

Besides, you never paid attention to me.

Excuse me, but I remember very well. You had bouffant hair,

and a blue bicycle.

I wore my hair straight and had a black bicycle.

You're thinking of Bernadette Paccard.

Ah, right. I didnít look at the older girls. They scared me.

And the younger ones?

I only remember one girlfriend.

She was eight, with blonde hair. Her name was Poupinette.

That was Marie-ThťrŤse Charvet, whoís now my sister-in-law.

She married Bernard.

Ah, I suspected she was cheating on me with him.

Thatís my daughter Laura.

This is Mr. Montcharvin, who owns the Villa des Catalpas.

- Catalpas? - Do you know it?

Some tea, sweetie?

You know the house?

She spent her vacations there until she was 12.

Itís a beautiful house.

Yes, but I'm selling it.

I hope they wonít tear it down.

No, I think they'll restore it. So you used to play there?

One year we ate every single pear in the garden.

The new owner may not be quite so obliging.

Thatís sad.

Arenít you sorry to be selling?

I'm never in France anymore.

JťrŰme and I met six years ago in Bucharest,

where he was the cultural attachť.

Then I went off to Paris, and you went -

To Stockholm, where I'm about to get -

And you didnít even tell me. You promised to write.

I hate writing, especially to a writer.

I can sympathize. Being a writer paralyzes me too.

Arenít you here to write?

For me, not for my friends. I donít feel much like writing.

I think I'll decide to take a vacation, like Laura.

Are you on vacation?

Just about. Schoolís out in two days.

I always skipped the last few days.

Well, I wonít.

We plan to play a trick on our teacher. Sheís an old maid.

Not just old, but hateful.

Sheís only happy when sheís brought us to tears.

Itís true.

You should see her squirm with delight. Itís revolting.

Sheís really evil,

and weíre going to play a nasty trick on her.

What kind of trick, or is it a secret?

No, but we donít really know yet.

We'll come up with something at the last minute.

So she makes you cry?

Not me personally. I never cry in front of others.

Seeing a girl cry renders me utterly helpless,

especially if sheís pretty.

So you make the ugly ones cry?

No, neither the ugly ones nor the pretty ones.

I'm sure you do. Just a bit, to see.

Arenít you ashamed to reveal your dark side?

TUESDAY, JUNE 30TH

A Spanish soldier painted these frescoes in the 18th century.

Recognize him?

Yes, Don Quixote, with Sancho.

Heís on a wooden horse, but he thinks heís flying.

The bellows create the illusion of wind, while the torch makes him think -

- Heís nearing the sun. - Thatís right.

Theyíve been blindfolded.

The heroes of a story are always blindfolded.

Otherwise theyíd attempt nothing. The plot would stall.

But no matter. Actually, everyone wears a blindfold.

Or at least blinders.

Except you, since you write.

Yes, writing forces me to keep my eyes open.

- But you work the bellows. - No, I follow the characters' impulses.

Their own logic drives them on.

- But you help. - No, I never invent. I discover.

Take anything. I'm getting rid of it all.

A present. How nice.

'Index of official court stamps and mortgages.'

- Why, thatís Lucinde! - Of course. You knew her.

Yes, but I'd almost forgotten what she looked like.

Her hair was shorter and not tied back.

This picture makes her look a bit severe.

No, she looks good this way.

I didnít think you were capable of being faithful for six years.

Six years isnít long, yet a lot has happened.

Weíve had occasion to break up and make up five or six times.

Remember our first fight? You were still in Bucharest.

Yes, but only vaguely.

We both thought it was all over.

But the following year I ran into her again in Beirut,

and later in Rabat, where she was with UNICEF.

We tried to avoid each other, but it was no use, so why not join forces?

I thought you were dead set against marriage.

I actually was, personally,

but since our efforts to break up kept failing,

it seemed we were meant to stay together.

I'm marrying her because experience has shown I can live with her.

I'm just acknowledging a fact, not laying down some rule for myself.

When something pleases me, I do it for pleasure.

Why tie myself down with one woman if others still interested me?

Since I've been with Lucinde, weíve both had affairs,

and I've come to realize that all other women leave me cold.

I canít even tell one from another.

Theyíre all the same.

Except friends like you.

And howís your love life going?

Itís going nowhere.

Absolutely nowhere?

I've been alone for over a year.

Itís a very pleasant feeling.

Perhaps once in a while, but it can be an easy way out.

I'm like you, my dear.

If chance places a woman in your path, you take her.

Chance insists on placing nothing in my path, so I take nothing.

Why struggle against fate?

Solitude isnít just satisfying. I actually relish it.

Itís my greatest pleasure in life at the moment.

And you say one should live in accord with oneís pleasure.

The gardenís gone completely wild. Something must be done.

You donít want a Versailles here. Itís nice like this.

No, certainly not Versailles, but still...

Before these tennis courts were here, there was a fantastic vineyard.

My grandfather made very good wine.

Thereís some left in the cellar. I'll let you taste it.

I'm looking to see if the little girl you saw yesterday, Laura,

is coming to play at 5:00 as usual.

It reminds me of a novel

I wanted to write but could never finish.

It was about a man getting on in years,

35 or 40 years old,

a diplomat, very austere, very stern,

whose conduct is above all suspicion.

This gentleman watches young girls playing tennis.

Of course, as the days pass, he gets ideas.

One day a tennis ball falls in his garden.

He puts it in his pocket.

And when the girls come, he pretends to look for it

among the nettles.

When they finally leave,

he goes to that lot over there, where theyíre building a house,

and tosses the ball back.

But the house belongs to a crippled old woman

whoís hardly likely to be playing this game

with budding young girls.

So the girls become intrigued.

The gentleman repeats the little game three or four times,

and from this first folly

he descends ever closer to the edge of madness.

What do you think of my story? How should I finish it?

I donít know. Itís a great story.

I'm counting on you for some ideas.

You know...

I shouldnít tell you this, but since your armourís so impenetrable:

Laura is in love with you.

- You mean, in your novel? - No. She told me.

Then it canít be too serious. But if it serves as inspiration -

I'm sure youíve noticed how she looks at you.

She looks at me very innocently.

- There are no innocents these days. - Yes, there are.

Sheís a child, simple and straightforward. Thatís whatís so nice about her.

Besides, I canít go around noticing every love-struck little girl.

Itís your job to observe these things.

But it wouldnít even make a good novel. Itís been done.

Just say it: I donít inspire you.

Itís true.

I've never wanted to base a character on you.

Too dull?

Yes, though insignificant characters can inspire good stories.

But I seldom draw on things around me.

I'm rarely around.

All the same, youíve never inspired me.

Even if you slept with a schoolgirl on the eve of your wedding,

you still wouldnít be giving me a good story.

What if I didnít sleep with her?

Ah, that would make a better story. Nothing actually has to happen.

Thereís always the subject itself,

though we certainly canít write about every possible subject.

Anyway, this one hits too close to home.

At the moment I seem completely incapable

of telling my own life story.

You know, I've been in situations like yours.

I've had occasion to be interested in young boys,

and my story is similar to yours

inasmuch as I never took anything to its conclusion,

meaning I was never in love with any of them.

I could easily write this story in relation to myself,

basing it on my own experience,

but transposing it onto a friend.

Transpose away, but donít expect much from me.

You're afraid!

And for no reason. Sheís just a sweet little flirt.

I know. I was one myself. She'll pull back at the last minute.

All you risk is her becoming a nuisance.

WEDNESDAY, JULY 1ST

Nice place. Very quiet.

Itís too beautiful here to get any work done.

Is that our story?

It has to happen first before I can write it.

And since itís not going to happen...

Somethingís always happening,

even if itís just your refusal to admit that it is.

So I canít escape being your guinea pig.

- Are they ripe? - In a few days.

You should come stay with me. Itís bigger, more comfortable.

And you could observe me at your leisure.

It would be unkind to Mrs. Walter.

And I see too many writers all year in Paris.

Here I live with normal people. A good French family.

A young girl, a mother, even a fiancťe.

Theyíre more my guinea pigs than you are.

I want to observe them.

And how could I dare be with you

all alone in a big house?

You know I adore you.

Is this her room?

You see, I have the place almost to myself.

The mother works in Nancy,

and the girls are always off running around somewhere.

Thatís Claire, the other daughter.

They donít look alike.

Theyíre not sisters.

What do you think? - Come on, stop it.

You were here after all?

Are you surprised? Vacationís here - finally.

I'll leave Laura with you and go make some fruit salad.

- Can I help? - No, itís a secret recipe.

You happy because of vacation?

No, vacationís worse than the rest of the year.

All my friends are gone.

Luckily, next month I'll be in Cheltenham.

With a family. In England.

The truth is,

I'm just not sad. Thatís different.

Itís vacations that make me sad.

For me, vacation means getting away, not staying put.

Anyway, I have to wait for Claire.

Claireís my sister.

Well, not really my sister.

My mother married Claireís father.

My father died.

She'll be here in a few days.

We love each other very much.

Itís a pity Mother divorced.

She divorced Claireís father?

Motherís had two husbands,

and now sheís all alone.

That looks great.

Vacation makes Laura sad, and I sympathize.

What depresses me is to be back where I grew up.

When I arrived, it felt so oppressive that I almost left.

I have so many memories.

- And you donít want to add any more? - Certainly not.

Do you like Sweden?

Very much, but itís not so much the country as -

The climate.

Youíve said it a thousand times. The climate agrees with you.

But letís not talk about that again.

THURSDAY, JULY 2ND

Aurora...

yesterday afternoon

why did you stop me from mentioning my marriage to Laura?

I didnít stop you. What are you talking about?

You know perfectly well.

You cut me off and talked about the climate.

But itís true.

You love the cold. The heatís bad for you.

Thatís enough.

Why bring up your marriage? You think theyíre interested?

The role of guinea pig doesnít suit me at all.

I donít know what you told that girl,

but when I see her again, I'm going to tell her.

So tell her!

FRIDAY, JULY 3RD

I'm in Sweden for personal reasons.

I'm getting married next month.

Even I didnít know.

Lucinde works for UNICEF. Right now sheís in Africa.

It must be hard being separated, especially now.

They'll just be happier when they meet again. Theyíre used to it.

Weíve been separated often these past six years.

- I hope you wonít be anymore. - No, or much less.

Besides, brief separations bring people closer.

Itís possible.

I must be too possessive. I canít stand absence.

Thatís why I'm alone after two marriages.

- Daddy died. Thatís different. - In any case, I'm still alone.

- Itís not your fault. - I never said it was.

Sheís always contradicting me.

On the contrary, I donít have the life I deserve.

I'm alone, and I need to be in love.

My mistake - if it is one -

was perhaps believing in love too much.

You'll be happier because you donít. - Me?

For you and people your age, love is outdated.

I never said that. I donít care what people my age think.

If girls are stupid, itís not my fault.

Besides, itís not true.

There was no more love in your day than now.

More hypocrisy, maybe, but thatís all.

Sometimes I think you talk nonsense.

You see how she treats me?

I hate small talk.

And darn it, I canít speak from experience on this subject.

I'm leaving.

I donít know what got into her today.

Sheís never made a scene like that before.

I think sheís bored. Her friends have all left.

She wanted to go to Corsica with a group of friends, but I said no.

I didnít want her going so far away alone. Sheís just a child.

And her sister arrives in a few days. Then sheís spending August in England.

So she has plenty to keep her busy.

Good God, itís 2:10! I'm due at the office by 2:30.

I'm late.

Please remind her she has an errand to run at 3:00.

Thank you very much.

- You should go comfort her. - What?

You heard me. You have an excuse. Remind her about the errand.

I came to remind you about the errand for your mother.

Did she send you?

No, Aurora did.

This is a nice spot.

Is it your special spot? - Yes, when people upset me.

I donít mean you or Mother.

We adore each other, but she always twists around whatever I say.

No, she was quite charming. She made excuses for you.

She didnít say I was difficult?

Not at all. She said only nice things.

She was even quite flattering.

I know. With other people, sheís very proud of me.

But when I'm there, I'm always wrong. Thatís how she is.

She always has to contradict people.

Usually I just go along with her.

Whatever happens, sheís my mother,

and if I argue, I eventually have to give in.

But otherwise we get along fine. I love her.

She loves you too.

I shouldnít have left like that.

She must be upset. What did she say?

Oh, I donít know.

That youíre mad because she wouldnít let you go to Corsica.

She knows thatís not true! I didnít want to go.

I donít mind it here at all.

It can be a bit stifling though.

When I'm bored, I'd rather be anywhere but here.

All my friends have left.

Maybe I should go to Corsica after all.

Itís funny. I've been feeling just the opposite lately.

With all this beauty, nothing gets me down.

It is beautiful, but sometimes I feel smothered.

Then go hiking up in the mountains.

When I was little, Claire and I were always up there.

I know a lot of spots too. I'll take you climbing one day.

You're not afraid of heights, are you? - Not at all.

But itís not being hemmed in thatís so stifling.

Itís too beautiful. All this beauty can be exhausting.

You have to get away now and then.

Just like I was saying earlier:

Lovers have to to get away from each other now and then.

Exactly.

SATURDAY, JULY 4TH

Aurora went to Geneva.

I canít hear you.

Aurora went to Geneva.

Then youíre all alone?

You must be bored. - A little.

What are you doing?

- Reading. - Reading what?

Nothing very interesting.

Come to my house. I have great books.

All right. I'll get dressed and be right back.

Sheís very beautiful, but a little hard.

I pictured you with someone less cold.

You donít think weíre a good match?

Not really, on first impression.

You're right. Lucinde isnít my type physically.

Though I donít really have a type.

Looks donít matter to me.

That is, beyond a certain level of acceptability.

All women are equal. Itís the character alone that counts.

But the character shows in how a person looks.

What do you see?

That youíre different in character.

There you go again. But youíre right.

At your age I had an ideal woman,

and she wasnít like Lucinde.

In body and character sheís not for me.

But then, a woman made for me would bore me.

I'd find her tiring.

If I'm marrying Lucinde, itís for one simple reason:

In six years of knowing her, I've never tired of her,

nor she of me, and I see no reason we shouldnít go on like that.

You must find this terribly devoid of passion.

I like to feel I love someone the very first day,

not after six years.

I donít call that love. Thatís more friendship.

You think theyíre really so different?

Basically, love and friendship are the same.

No, I'm never friends with someone I love.

Love makes me mean.

Really? Not me.

I donít believe in love without friendship.

Maybe. But for me friendship comes later.

Whether itís sooner or later doesnít matter.

But friendship has something I hope love has too:

Respect for others' freedom. Itís not possessive.

I'm possessive. Terribly possessive.

Really? You shouldnít be.

You'll ruin your life.

I know. I was born to be unhappy.

But no, I wonít be unhappy.

I'm very happy. I only think of positive things.

People are unhappy because they want to be.

When I feel down,

I think about how there are happy times, and that crying does no good anyway.

I think about how marvelous it is to be here,

and how much fun I'm going to have.

What do you call having fun?

Having fun is being alive.

For instance, today I'm very happy.

Tomorrow I may be sad.

So then I make myself think of something else.

I concentrate on one specific thing and how fantastic it is,

and I'm happy for the rest of the day.

But if I'm in love, I might -

You might what?

When I'm in love, it occupies me totally,

and I forget that I'm happy to be alive.

You mustnít forget.

You mustnít sacrifice life or happiness for love.

But I think youíre sensible enough to know that.

- Really? - Really.

I'm going to tell you a secret.

In fact, I'm not happy when I'm in love. I hate it.

I stamp my feet. Nothing interests me. I stop living.

Itís no fun at all. - See? I was right.

Wasnít I?

These are beautiful. I'll pick you a nice bouquet.

What will Mother say?

Itís innocent enough to offer a girl roses.

Sheíd think it was ridiculous, and sheíd be right.

Then you give them to her.

- Give them to her when you come over. - That was my plan.

- Give me this one. - Which one?

This one here.

- Just one? - Thatís right.

- Itís not for your mother? - No, it'll go in my room.

- What will you tell her? - That you gave it to me.

She wonít think thatís ridiculous?

No, she'll think just one is very nice.

But -

- But what? - Nothing.

SUNDAY, JULY 5TH

Careful of the thorns.

Mr. Jacques Desmarais, a friend and neighbor.

Mr. Montcharvin.

Roses from your garden?

Yes. Theyíve opened a bit, but they smell nice.

I prefer them that way.

I had a choice of two houses.

This one, and one on the other shore.

I took this one for the view, but now I'm sorry.

I donít like living at the foot of the mountain.

Why?

It makes me uneasy.

I'd prefer to live on the other shore too.

It affords a better view of the most imposing mountains:

The Tournette, the Dents de Lanfont.

Theyíre very majestic, very impressive mountains.

Itís that majesty that stifles me.

I donít agree.

A mountain is most beautiful viewed right from its base.

Itís like a cradle.

Itís as if itís protecting us.

You mean threatening and crushing us.

In any case, this house is too low to see anything.

I'll show you the best place, near the Col de I'Aulp. Have you been there?

Yes, when I was young.

Why donít we go?

Itís not too far. A three-hour hike at the most.

Three hours?

Very well. If you wish.

Sheís taking advantage of your good nature.

No, I have nothing to do, and I'd like to go for a hike.

If we have time,

we can climb to the top of the Tournette.

We should leave in the afternoon

and sleep at the mountain inn.

It just reopened a few days ago.

Laura, youíre going too far.

Really, Mother? Donít you want the two of us sleeping at the inn?

Itís settled then. Come by for me tomorrow.

All right.

Have a nice hike.

Good things come in threes.

I donít know if I should entrust her to you.

Sheís in love with you.

No, sheís just playing.

Itís a dangerous game.

She knows I'm getting married.

I'm just kidding. And anyway,

I'm glad itís with someone so level-headed.

I'm not so sure.

I hope youíre counting more on your daughterís level-headedness.

Surely a man getting married in a month is level-headed, isnít he?

I suspect Laura is thinking the same thing.

Letís hope so.

MONDAY, JULY 6TH

This is the nicest spot.

Dead in the center of the ring of mountains.

You canít see the house.

No, itís behind the pine trees.

Letís stay like this. Are you okay?

Yes.

Really?

Really.

Would you rather be with your fiancťe?

Well... sure.

Just 'well, sure'? I hope youíre a lot happier with her than with me.

Well, yes, since I'll be leaving you for her.

If I were happier with you, I'd stay with you.

But how should I know if I'd be happier with you?

And whatís the point in comparing?

I feel good.

You know, young lady,

I find your behavior quite reckless.

In your shoes, I wouldnít be so trusting.

I'm not trusting,

but I need to enrich my experience.

I take calculated risks. You're taking a greater risk than I am.

You're practically married. I'm a free woman.

But I'm free too.

I respect Lucinde's freedom, and she respects mine.

I let her do exactly as she pleases,

hoping, or rather knowing

that she wonít do anything to upset me.

If everything one person liked upset the other,

it would be crazy to live together, no?

Would she be pleased to know youíre with me?

Of course.

She knows my feelings are purely platonic.

We certainly allow for friends in our lives.

Aurora, for example?

Well, yes.

I really like her. Sheís extremely nice.

- Have you two spoken about me? - Of course.

What did she say?

That I should be careful around you.

Let go of me!

Very well. No more fun and games?

No, I'd like to be in love for real,

with a boy who loves me and whom I love.

Young lady, you have your whole life ahead of you.

You sound like my mother.

I always thought I'd get married very young.

Some girls get married at 16.

Theyíre the exception, and I canít say I approve.

I donít see why youíd want to get married now.

- Did you know Motherís remarrying? - Really?

Her friend from dinner last night?

I think I'd have a hard time living with them.

You have your studies ahead of you.

You can live alone in Grenoble, Lyons, or even Paris.

Of course.

I want to tell you something.

No, step back so youíre not so close.

You know, I think I fell a little bit in love with you.

If someone like you were to come along and carry me off

and he really loved me,

I think I'd go with him.

What would your mother say?

Sheíd be delighted.

Not with someone my age.

Age doesnít matter to me.

I've never been able to love a boy my age.

TUESDAY, JULY 7TH

I donít like people my own age.

I donít know why. I think theyíre stupid.

You know, I may look like a little kid,

but appearances can be deceiving.

I'm really quite mature for my age.

After Mother divorced, she began confiding in me.

I quickly grew more mature than other girls my age.

My friends are much more childish than me.

I could easily see myself married -

not that I intend to run off and marry right away.

I donít see why a girl your age would want to get married.

This isnít the time of Louis XIV.

And your mother lets you do whatever you want.

Not so fast.

Motherís much stricter than you think.

And I admit sheís right to be.

She gives me advice, which irritates and annoys me -

but I often find sheís right.

Sheís right because...

Because?

Because I'm really crazy.

There are times when I'm capable of absolutely anything.

But I love my mother very much,

and I know it would make her unhappy.

So I behave myself.

I send all the boys away.

I've forged a tough attitude for myself.

I could easily be crazy. It would suit my nature.

For now, I'm among the sane,

but one tiny step and I could join the crazies.

Why donít I do it?

Motherís presence holds me back.

But if I had a father,

like Claireís, for example,

it would push me in the other direction.

So Claireís crazier than you?

No, Claireís in love with a boy who spends summers here.

You'll see. Theyíre always together.

I've never really been in love with any boy.

Thatís what worries me.

Thatís not true. Once, when I was young.

Very young.

I loved a boy when I was 121/2.

I canít say it ever came to much, but I loved him.

But since him, no one, really.

So your love life ended four years ago.

Now I want to really love someone,

but I only see boys my age,

and they scare me.

Itís an instinctive reaction.

They scare you how?

Itís instinctive, I tell you.

Self-preservation.

The more handsome the boy, the more he scares me.

You mean youíre afraid you'll give in?

No, itís -

Itís less defined than that.

Young boys tend to insist.

A boy is nice, so I go for a walk with him,

if I'm bored, for instance.

When I'm bored, I think I'm in love with whomever I'm with.

What bothers me is that, after a while,

he thinks heís something special. He tells everyone, 'She loves me.'

He starts acting like a king. Then itís over.

I donít feel safe with young boys.

I only feel comfortable with a man old enough to be my father.

Must be a lack of fatherly affection.

In an older man itís like I've found my father again.

I want to share in what he does, give him my opinion.

I want to be with him always.

I want to be small next to him, and it feels good.

WEDNESDAY, JULY 8TH

Are you Claire?

Is Laura here? - No, Vincent just came to get her.

- Who? - Vincent, a friend.

Is Aurora still in Geneva?

I think so. I havenít seen her.

Then youíre all alone?

You live in Paris?

You're lucky. Itís a nice day. - Very nice.

I guess I should come back this evening.

Yes, do that.

- Gilles! - How are you?

You look great.

- Whoís that guy? - Some friend of our lodger.

Where did you get your suntan?

- At the pool in Paris. - Great!

THURSDAY, JULY 9TH

Is that all youíre going to tell me?

I ran some errands in Geneva, thatís all.

The rest is top diplomatic secret.

But I certainly hope you have lots to tell me.

Yes and no.

Nothing happened. Or very little.

But since itís your only inspiration -

Yes, sir, I can be mysterious too.

Itís a professional secret.

Heís my guinea pig.

You can give me all the details tomorrow.

FRIDAY, JULY 10TH

Quit it!

Whoís that sheís with?

Vincent. Heís a friend.

You know, the only way to get to me is through my curiosity.

I wanted to know if this little girl was making fun of me

in keeping with a script of your making.

When I kissed her the other day to find out,

I really had to force myself.

When I took her hand,

not as you take the hand of an old friend or a child,

I thought about the pleasure of touching it,

and it bothered me.

We walked hand in hand,

and it weighed on me, not like some sin,

but because it was so pointless.

By being interested in another woman, I donít betray Lucinde.

I just waste my time.

Lucinde is everything. You canít add to everything.

Then why the experiment?

To please you.

I was obeying you.

And to see the experiment fail.

You can never be sure of anything.

If I kept away from women, didnít let myself talk to them,

didnít look at them, even avoided their advances...

then...

my love for Lucinde would feel

like a duty rather than a pleasure.

I'm marrying Lucinde

because I enjoy being with her and not some other woman.

Will has nothing to do with it.

If I wasnít convinced of that before, I am now.

But the will always has to play some part in love.

I like it to be a very small part.

And to discover, as I did the other day, just how small a part it is...

is a delightful feeling, believe me.

SATURDAY, JULY 11TH

I'll be ready in three minutes. Be patient.

So with girls it can only be love?

With girls it can only be physical,

or if thereís friendship, it comes later.

But the first connection is physical.

So friendship can come after love?

Yes, because then you get into the realm of the absolute and -

With Laura, for instance?

Lauraís different. I'm not her type at all.

She goes for big, well-built,

athletic guys, and I'm kind of the opposite.

So why are you with her?

Weíre friends. Classmates.

It didnít look that way to me.

Thereís nothing going on. Really.

I'm sure sheís not in love with you.

One more reason nothingís going on.

But you might -

I havenít thought about it, and I donít want to.

I know exactly what type she likes,

and I donít want to get involved in her scene.

I want to be liked right away. I donít want to get into courting her.

But you could win her over. She might find you -

No, I can just tell thereís no chance.

Girls can surprise you.

Sure, you never know. Women are kind of weird.

But so far, nothing. - Do you see Laura as a girlfriend?

No, weíre friends, thatís all.

Maybe a tiny bit of affection when I look at her,

because I like to make love gently.

Caress her nose and all that.

Youíve mixed it all together: Love, friendship -

I donít know. With her itís something special.

Donít listen to him. Heís nuts.

You coming? - Is the water nice?

Itís great. Come on.

You're not coming? - No, thanks. Itís too cold for me.

You sure took your time. I hope they'll wait.

I had to finish this letter to my father.

I canít believe it took an hour. What could you be writing?

Whatís it to you? I'll do as I please.

Weíve got to hurry. I warn you, next time I'm not waiting.

Fine, go by yourself. You donít need me.

Thatís just great! Good-bye.

- I'll pick you up at 3:00. - You do that.

Come on.

Are you mad?

Really mad?

SUNDAY, JULY 12TH

Aurora! Put your pen down

and come enjoy the pleasures of the countryside.

I'll finish this page and be right there.

Laura...

could you get me another basket?

You're gonna ruin them.

- Are you sure theyíre ripe? - Theyíre great.

Let me taste.

Here.

Theyíre sour.

Want to try these?

This one should be good.

This oneís great.

I'll pick some more. - I'll put them in my hat.

You want one?

I canít reach them.

- Are they ripe? - Theyíre very good.

Throw a couple in my hat, just to taste.

Not bad.

Wait, I'll help you.

Stop it. You'll make me fall.

- Are there others? - This oneís great.

Itís too long. Thatís not quite it.

The Greeks were really something!

No, the beard canít be too long.

This one.

- I donít like it. - You donít like beards.

I had a fantastic beard once, but it was too much work.

Whatís the story there?

TUESDAY, JULY 14TH

- Bastille Day is really something, huh? - Itís great!

Some people are getting a little wild.

This isnít a dance for me. I'm too old.

Shall we dance another?

- Care to dance? - I'm too tired.

Just a few steps.

I leave tomorrow morning.

And whyís that?

Because I met you!

Off on business again. Just my luck.

THURSDAY, JULY 16TH

Nice shot.

- You played well. - Not bad.

You're getting better.

- You're not playing? - No, today I'm just a spectator.

Right into the net.

Heís as bad as you.

Yeah, looks like my style. I bet I win.

- I'd be surprised. - You'll see.

- What are they doing? - Heís getting the ball.

That guy misses every shot.

FRIDAY, JULY 17TH

I much prefer your company to a tennis game.

Besides, I have to lecture you.

You involve me in experiments, yet you shrink from any adventures yourself.

Yours havenít gotten you very far.

I'm just passing through. My life is elsewhere.

For you this is serious. Itís your life.

I'm just passing through too.

Not for long, I trust.

It saddens me to see you lose the bloom of youth.

The bloom of youth comes and goes.

Listen, find a guy and stop complaining.

I'll bet you I find one before the year is out.

- What makes you think that? - My coffee grounds.

Find a guy. Who? Where?

Where are these guys to be found?

All over the place. Like on Bastille Day.

Oh, Bastille Day.

Admit it. You found him attractive.

But I find all men attractive. Thatís why I canít pick one.

Why one and not another?

I need a reason to choose one specific man.

Since I canít have them all, I prefer to do without any.

Thatís quite unnatural, and quite immoral.

Hardly immoral, since it keeps me chaste.

Should I throw myself at the first guy who comes along?

Where would that lead? What good would it do?

I didnít say the first guy to come along.

If heís supposed to come, he'll come.

Even here?

Hereís as good a place as any.

You seem to think I need to hurry.

To hear you talk, youíd think I was an old woman.

Well, let me tell you something.

Last year I wanted to test my charms on very young boys.

The young generation is a complete unknown to me.

Incomprehensible. A total mystery.

I settled on the number five in one week.

Five!

Actually, I had three.

Very handsome, all of them.

Did you enjoy it, apart from the glory of conquest?

It was very nice. I could have gone on.

But since it was a matter of ego,

and ego is quickly satisfied,

in this area, at least,

I prefer to wait.

I know how to wait.

Waiting is pleasant in and of itself.

Sure, if it doesnít go on too long.

Donít worry.

Your story is actually more interesting than mine.

No, your relationships with young girls interest me more.

Theyíre harder to pin down.

Then youíre in luck. My little affair is evaporating.

Nothingís happening. I have nothing to tell.

Is she trying to make me jealous with her friend? I donít think so.

Her experiment is over, and so is mine - period.

She'll take up her old ways, and I mine.

You know -

What?

Nothing.

I find it amusing that youíre no longer in charge of the story. I am.

I have an idea, but I'm afraid my ideas -

No, tell me.

You have to guess.

Itís only an idea, not a proven fact.

I'm such an obliging guinea pig that I went a step further.

Putting myself in my characterís place,

I thought of something he might feel that I donít really feel.

Actually, I donít feel anything.

You know, I'm through running after girls. All of them.

Thatís right. Young and old.

I'm speaking of me personally.

But I've said too much already. Canít you figure it out?

You mean you personally have reached the end of the story,

but I hope not for the character.

He'll carry on.

No, I'm speaking of me.

The character is through too, with that experiment at least.

Then itís all over?

In that regard, yes. But -

But what?

Actually, I shouldnít expect you to guess something

thatís purely an idea in my head.

And in fact, itís not a completely pure idea.

Laura suspects it, I'm sure.

The problem is that, by going on about it,

I give it too much importance.

I'd rather you guess.

But you never will, so I'll give you a hint.

Itís over... with Laura.

You said that already. So what?

Itís over... with Laura.

Claire! My word!

You donít mean that Claire too is -

No, itís just an idea.

Not that sheís in love with me, but that I'm interested in her.

Itís classic. She loves someone else.

Itís not just that. If she didnít intrigue me, why would I care about that?

Letís say she disturbs my character, and me too, to a small extent.

So small I wouldnít mention it, if you werenít so interested.

She disturbs you? How? Her body?

Yes, the way she looks, since itís all I know about her.

Weíve hardly ever spoken.

I'd find it quite difficult to talk to her.

Well, well. She intimidates you.

I feel absolutely powerless around girls like that.

You know what I mean?

Some very attractive boys have that affect on me.

I'm amused youíd admit that youíre shy.

But I am very shy.

Usually I'm spared having to take the first step.

I've never pursued a girl if she wasnít favourably disposed.

What about this one?

With this one itís very strange.

She arouses a desire in me thatís real yet has no purpose

and is all the stronger because of it.

Pure desire. A desire for nothing.

I donít wish to act on it, but it bothers me to feel it.

I didnít think I'd ever desire a woman again.

And I donít even really want her. If she threw herself at me, I'd refuse.

Jealousy?

But even though I donít want her, I feel I have...

some sort of claim on her.

A claim born from the very strength of my desire.

Itís a feeling I felt long ago

that I suddenly find very vivid today.

The turmoil she arouses in me

gives me a sort of right over her.

You know,

I'm convinced I deserve her more than anyone.

Yesterday, for instance, at the tennis court...

I was watching those two lovers,

and I thought to myself that every woman has her most vulnerable point.

For some, itís the nape of the neck, the waist, the hands.

For Claire, in that position, in that light,

it was her knee.

It was the magnetic pole of my desire, the precise point where,

if I could pursue this desire, I'd have placed my hand.

And right there is where her boyfriend had his hand.

In all his innocence and insipidness.

That hand was above all insipid, and that shocked me.

Itís very simple. Place your hand on her knee.

That will exorcise the desire.

Itís not simple at all. Thatís the hardest thing to do.

A caress has to be accepted.

It would be easier to seduce her.

MONDAY, JULY 20TH

Gilles is playing great!

Come on, sweetie.

Basically, I love thin, delicate girls.

All the girls I've known and loved

were too hardy, in my opinion.

Hardy?

Lucinde, for example, is quite athletic,

though in a way I rather like her sporty side.

But if I had a woman made to order,

I think I'd give Claireís measurements.

Yes, she has a lovely figure.

I think she'll grow to be a very beautiful woman.

I mean she'll fill out in all the right places.

You know, all these slender, pretty girls -

I'm sure youíve noticed. At 30, very few are still beautiful.

But I think Claire

will stand up to the onslaught.

But itís not too late.

If she suits you, youíre still single.

Marry her.

Looks arenít all that important to me.

I told you: If she came to me, I'd turn her down.

But I'd like to turn her down of my own choice.

But itís been my misfortune

that whenever I've desired a woman,

I havenít gotten her.

All my conquests have come as a surprise -

to my surprise.

Desire followed possession.

Hit it here.

Whatís the matter?

Did you hurt yourself?

Whatís the matter? Say something.

- You hit my finger. It hurts! - Show me!

Itís nothing. I told you to use your fingertips.

I wasnít paying attention.

Show me. You shouldnít be playing if -

Does it hurt? Aurora'll take care of you.

The ball crushed my finger.

Sorceress, can you heal it?

- Thereís nothing broken. - No, I donít think so.

Itís all right.

It just needs some massage.

A little massage. Thatís all.

I'll get you some fruit juice.

Does it still hurt?

A little. Nothing too serious.

- Letís put some arnica on it. - Donít bother. It'll go away.

I had the same thing once.

It turned all blue, and they had to amputate.

You werenít too hot playing volleyball?

No, thereís a breeze.

- You like volleyball? - Not at all.

Then why were you playing?

To make Gilles happy.

To make Gilles happy.

So when Gilles wants something, you do it?

Not always.

You shouldnít do everything boys ask.

I donít do everything boys ask.

Feeling better?

You want to play? - In a while.

All right.

THURSDAY, JULY 23RD

Please keep away from the shore!

This is a campground. - What?

Keep away from the shore, please.

- Calm down, gramps! - Mind your manners!

Watch your language!

Move away from the shore!

Is that your boat, sir?

Kindly tell your friends to stay further out.

I'm the camp director, and campers have complained.

I'm very sorry. I'll speak to them.

They were rude to me too.

Please forgive them. Theyíre just kids.

I told them to stay away from the shore. It wonít happen again.

You can count on me. Thank you.

Whatís the matter?

I'm warning you for the last time, or there'll be trouble.

What?

Campers are complaining that you come in too close.

I'm the camp director.

First of all, this is private property.

Secondly, we were 60 feet away.

There were people swimming there.

This is ridiculous. You're being absurd.

Watch your language, or there'll be trouble!

Heís stronger than you. You looking for a fight?

That guy is completely nuts.

We were way out. I donít know why heís screaming.

I'm not gonna lend you the boat anymore.

Oh, come on!

What do you mean? You're not being reasonable.

I asked you to stay further out, but no, you harass the campers.

We didnít harass them!

We were 60 feet away, right? - We were far from the shore.

When this guy points it out, you insult him.

If it had come to blows,

Claire might have gotten hit.

You're being inconsiderate. Mrs. Walter doesnít need these problems.

Mrs. Walter doesnít care. Isnít that right?

Mrs. Walter?

Whatís my mother got to do with you?

Keep out of this. I'm talking to your sister and Gilles.

I heard: He took the boat. What did you do with it?

He claims we were too close to shore. He yelled at us for nothing.

It wasnít for nothing. He asked you to keep 60 feet away.

There were people swimming.

Those campers again! Great!

I hope you gave them a hard time.

Listen to the little brat!

They throw trash on our lawn and do other things to the house.

They open the gate and walk right in!

Theyíre horrible. You did the right thing!

No, they didnít. And I'll tell your mother about your tone.

Please do. She'll agree with me.

No, sheís sure to side with me.

Letís just drop it. This house is nothing but problems.

Nothing but problems?

Anyway, youíre a guest here.

So?

Guests can speak up too. - If Mother has something to say -

Go back to your homework! Off you go!

FRIDAY, JULY 24TH

Are you catching the ferry?

No, I'm on my way back to the house.

I can take you. I could say hello to Aurora.

She went to Annecy.

When are we going boating or mountain climbing?

The Tournette was our last excursion, wasnít it?

Yes, but I'm busy. I'm having lunch with Motherís friends.

- Really? - Afraid so.

Then tomorrow, if you like.

Tomorrowís no good either.

I'm leaving for England the day after, and I have to pack.

Too bad.

I'm serious. Our beautiful friendship sputtered out.

No, we see each other every day.

I donít know what more you want.

I'd hoped for something more, thatís all.

I think itís fine as it is.

And if there wasnít 'more,' as you put it, itís your fault.

Oh, really?

You always keep to yourself.

I didnít want to bother you. You were with friends.

You're not that old. You should have joined us.

I donít like them much. You donít choose your friends very carefully.

I keep trying to get rid of Vincent.

Itís not him I mind. Itís Gilles.

Gilles is my sisterís friend. I donít criticize her choices.

Besides, heís fine. They make a good couple.

Not at all. Sheís a hundred times better than him.

You hate him because heís not afraid of you.

You're crazy. I like people who have character.

But his toughness is all show, the worst kind.

Claire should drop him. Open her eyes.

She loves him, and sheís right to.

And whatís it to you anyway?

I just mentioned it. No reason, really.

Thatís right: You're jealous for no reason.

Then again...

Then again?

No, nothing.

Take me home.

SUNDAY, JULY 26TH

Let me help you. Those are heavy.

In the trunk? - No, itís too small. In the back seat.

- The little one too? - Yes. Thank you.

- When do you leave? - In three days.

Then we wonít see each other again. I'll be in Geneva a week.

So youíre really getting married?

I wish you every happiness.

Thank you. Let me kiss you.

See you soon.

- Claire darling, weíre leaving. - I'm coming.

Be good. I leave her to you, Aurora.

- Are we leaving now? - Yes, darling.

- Donít forget my records. - I wonít.

- Will you write to me? - I never write.

Just a few lines.

Send me a postcard. I might answer it.

All right.

You have the number in Geneva. Call if you need anything.

Have a good trip.

TUESDAY, JULY 28TH

- Is Aurora here? - No, she went for a walk.

Would you please remind her about dinner tonight at my place?

All right.

I'll pick her up at 8:00.

Are you going to Annecy by any chance?

No, I just came from there.

Why?

Oh, nothing.

Do you want to go?

No, itís not important.

I can take you. I could run another errand.

You sure it wouldnít be a bother?

But cover up. The weatherís changing.

I'll get a jacket.

Itís clouding over. Weíd better take cover.

I think this rainís gonna last another hour.

Even if it clears up, I couldnít take you into town.

You'll miss your appointment.

What appointment?

You wanted to go to Annecy. I thought you had an appointment.

Oh, right. I had to drop a note off at Gilles' place.

Isnít he home?

No, he left this morning to visit his mother in Grenoble.

Well, well.

He'll be back late, and since heís coming by tomorrow,

I wanted to leave him word this evening. Itís nothing important.

You wanted to go just for that?

You said it was no bother, that you had an errand to run anyway.

Never mind. Itís not important.

Listen, maybe itís none of my business,

but youíre letting this boy take advantage of you.

He didnít ask me to go. I wanted to.

All the more reason.

Youíd go to the ends of the earth for him.

You shouldnít let boys lead you around.

Especially a boy like him.

- You donít know him. - I know him well enough.

Sure, if you believe the camp director.

Thatís not it. I just donít know what you see in him.

Heís far beneath you.

Heís just fine, and I'm not interested in your opinion.

You're right. I should mind my own business.

I was never interested in you or your sister, and I'm getting married,

so it makes no difference to me.

But it bothers me

to see such a charming girl with such an oaf.

Now, if you took him in hand -

You could have all the boys at your feet.

Make the most of it!

Heís fine. He doesnít play up to you

like Aurora, Mother, Laura and all the others.

It shows character. He never kowtows to anyone.

Your opinion means nothing to me.

What Gilles was doing this afternoon - does that mean nothing to you too?

I didnít want to tell you, but you should know, for your own good.

You love Gilles, but are you sure he loves you?

Whatís it to you? Itís none of your business!

So youíre not sure?

Of course I am.

Then why was he kissing a girl this afternoon in Annecy?

What girl?

You know her. She plays tennis.

Her name is Marielle.

Ah, Muriel. Sheís a friend. He has every right to see her.

Of course. As I said, I saw him this afternoon.

So he lied to you. Heís not in Grenoble.

Maybe he was delayed.

Sure. Maybe he was.

He held her close as they strolled along.

Nothing wrong in that.

And no oneís forcing him to go to Grenoble.

So forget what I said. - Be quiet!

Fine, but youíre acting strange.

You say heís in Grenoble when heís not. Of course I'm surprised.

He can do as he likes. Itís none of your business.

Donít take it like that. I was just telling you -

Be quiet!

Here.

It stopped raining.

We should try to get back.

She kept crying and had no handkerchief, so I gave her mine.

She wiped her eyes and handed it back. I motioned for her to keep it.

I'm sure at that moment she must have hated me.

If I'd tried to touch her or said a word, sheíd have cried, 'Leave me alone.'

So I just sat there for a while,

watching her snivel away and feeling very awkward,

pleased I'd landed my blow but appalled at my own behavior.

I was ashamed to have made her cry. Or rather, I felt ashamed for her.

She must have felt ashamed, breaking down before a stranger.

And it embarrassed me all the more, since I felt sheíd refuse any consolation.

Sheíd never have let me

take her hand or her shoulder, or hold her tight.

At least thatís what I thought.

So she sat facing me,

one leg stretched out, the other bent.

Her knee was sharp, narrow, smooth, delicate,

within reach.

Within reach of my hand.

I had only to extend my arm to touch her knee.

It would have been reckless, the one thing I shouldnít do,

and yet the easiest thing in the world.

Yet even knowing how easy and simple it would be,

it felt impossible too.

Like being one step from the edge of a cliff,

but even if you want to jump, you canít.

It took courage, you know. A great deal of courage.

I've never done anything as courageous, or at least as willful.

Itís the only time I ever accomplished an act of pure will.

I've never felt so strongly that I was doing something that had to be done.

I had to. I'd promised you.

All right, go on.

Talk. I wonít say a word.

I put my hand on her knee in one quick move

that gave her no time to react.

The precision of my gesture prevented her parry.

She simply looked at me,

indifferently, with little trace of hostility.

But she said nothing.

She didnít push me away or move her leg.

Why? I donít know. Or maybe I do.

If I'd caressed her with a finger, tried to stroke her brow,

sheíd certainly have pulled back.

But my gesture was too unexpected.

She thought it was the beginning of an attack, but it never came,

so she felt reassured.

What do you think?

A nicely told story.

Pity I donít know shorthand, or I'd have taken it down.

But what the hell do you care what she thought?

You made such a perfect, sculptural tableau.

What do your thoughts matter?

You know I hate making girls cry.

But she needed a lesson. I had to open her eyes.

It was my good deed for the day.

But if I'd felt I was shocking her, even a little,

I'd have pulled my hand back,

blushing.

Itís true. But not only did I not shock her,

I even did her some good.

What I considered a gesture of desire

she took to be a gesture of consolation.

A sort of peace came over me,

mixed with fear at being unable to control the moment.

A charming story,

but perfectly banal.

Thereís nothing perverse there aside from what you see in it.

On the contrary. The results are highly moral.

On the one hand, I broke the spell I told you about.

On the other, I'm no longer obsessed with the girlís body.

Itís as if I'd had her. I'm fulfilled.

At the same time, I did a good deed.

I got her away from that boy for good.

I donít think I could have experienced such perfect pleasure

it it werenít for the good deed I was doing.

She'll end up with someone worse.

I donít think so.

She learned a lesson. She'll be more careful.

What amuses me is that you canít stand the idea

of a woman escaping your clutches.

I freely admit that some women escape my clutches.

You, for example.

- I'm not in the game. - Thatís what bothers me.

To you, I'm just a guinea pig, while to me, youíre a great friend.

Everything I've done was out of friendship for you, and you know it.

Laura was for me? Claire was for me?

I hope Lucinde isnít!

What time do you leave tomorrow? - Ten oíclock.

You'll come say good-bye!

Of course.

You wonít believe me, but if not for you,

nothing would have happened, even if I'd met these girls some other way.

You know I believe you.

And nothing more will happen, since you'll no longer be around.

Thanks to you, I reached the ultimate delight.

Thereís nothing more I want to happen.

I'm fulfilled.

And Lucinde?

Ah, Lucinde. You're back to her.

Well, exactly. Now everything will be for Lucinde.

The rest, the other girls - all that was swept away, obliterated.

You're a magician.

- Did you doubt it? - Not for a moment,

or I wouldnít have placed my fate so recklessly in your hands.

WEDNESDAY, JULY 29TH

Say good-bye to Claire for me.

- Shall I wake her? - No, I have nothing to say to her.

Be good. Write to me.

You be good too.

You'll be all alone in Paris. Try to find yourself a guy.

All alone? Not at all!

What do you mean?

You have a lover?

A fiancť.

You never said a word.

I tell you everything, and you keep me in the dark.

You never asked.

Besides, you know him. I introduced you.

The guy who drove you back from Geneva?

Not bad.

How are you?

Very well, thanks. And you?

All right.

Is Claire here?

Yes, but I think sheís sleeping.

Ah, here she comes.

You were awake after all?

How was Grenoble? Is your mother better?

I actually ended up not going.

I'll explain.

I had problems with my car keys and I couldnít -

I lost three hours. Then I thought I'd take the train -

- You could have let me know. - I couldnít take the train either.

I tried to call, but every time -

Thereís always some way to get in touch.

No, there wasnít. By this time it was 5:00.

It made no sense. I called, but there was no answer.

So I decided to stay in Annecy. I had a dinner to go to anyway.

What were you doing with Muriel?

- You know how she is. - But still!

She went on for an hour about her problems.

She was sad, and I consoled her for an hour. Thatís all.

You know her as well as I do.

Sure, but thatís no excuse.

Listen, it doesnít -

Are you mad? - It doesnít matter.

Come sit on my lap.