All language subtitles for Madame Bovary (1949)

Thank you.

As public prosecutor, I demand that
further publication of this novel be

forbidden and that its author, Gustave
Flaubert, be found guilty of

committing the misdemeanor of an outrage
against public morals and established

customs.

This man, this Flaubert, has created a
character, a French woman, who was at

once a disgrace to France and an insult
to womanhood.

Emma Bovary.

A woman who neglects her own child. A
child that needs her. Who scorns her own

husband. A husband who loves her.

Who introduces adultery and ruin into
her home. This is our heroine.

This corrupt, loathsome, contemptible
creature.

This woman of insatiable passions. This
monstrous creation of a degenerate

imagination.

This is the heroine we are asked to
pity, to forgive. Why, perhaps to

love.

Gentlemen, nowhere in this entire work
does Gustave Flaubert ask us to blame

Emma Bovary and find her guilty of her
crimes. The state asks you, gentlemen,

find Gustave Flaubert guilty of his.

Gustave Flaubert.

Gustave Flaubert, do you deny the
accusations of the public attorney?

I do.

And I don't.

If it were only that easy, gentlemen, to
confirm or deny.

The public attorney has read you certain
passages from my work.

Can I deny them?

He has summed up certain unpleasant
facts concerning its heroine as if he

schoolboy doing a problem of two and
two.

But still, can I deny them?

He has indicted me for the crime of
forgiveness.

What can I say?

Forgiveness is still, as I understand
it, among the Christian sentiments.

I do not deny it.

Gentlemen, I do deny that I have made
any attack upon public morality.

I have shown you the vicious, yes, for
the sake of understanding it so that we

may preserve the virtuous.

Furthermore, I deny that Emma Bovary is
a monstrous creation of my degenerate

imagination.

She may be, but it was not I who created
her.

Our world, your world and mine created
her, as I shall attempt to demonstrate.

There are thousands of Emma Bovary's I
only had to draw from life.

And there are hundreds and thousands of
women who wish there were Emma Bovary

and who have been saved from her fate
not by virtue, but simply by lack of

determination.

Let me take you back, gentlemen, not to
the passages that the public attorney

has read for you.

Let me take you back to the time when
Emma was 20, when she was still Emma

and lived on her father's farm.

The night when Charles Bovary first met
her.

See her for the first time as he saw
her.

Charles Bovary took little notice of the
farm.

It was rude, substantial, lonely, in a
way miserable.

He'd seen hundreds of such farms.

Good evening.

I should say good morning.

Are you the doctor from Tours? Look,
Madame Follard, how young he is. Can he

a broken leg? That's all I want to know.
I don't know.

I have no faith in young doctors. We're
just neighbors, but we never would have

called you from as far away as Toast,
except for our local doctor. Oh, a very

imposing man, I assure you, with a
beard.

Heavens to be away, his wife, poor man,
is ill.

Ma 'am, I share your doubts.

May I say that my only qualifications
are these, that it's a very stormy

that I have no wife, that I am the
doctor who came.

Now, if you'll show me to the patient,
you both can go home and get some rest.

Oh, right this way.

and set the leg, Mama.

Never mind. Never mind.

We're going home.

Good night, Emma. Try to get some rest.

Our doctor should have a beer.

Well, I thank you.

That's it. If those harpies are gone,
rouse up my daughter. She'll give you

breakfast. All right.

Goodbye, Mr. Moore.

Dr. Bovary, you must be very tired.

How is my father?

Oh,

it's a simple fracture, lower right
tibia, no complications. I'll be back in

week or so.

Your father's going to get along just...
You get along fine. I'm sure you'll

want some breakfast.

I'll try to hurry.

Oh, no, no.

Take your time, please. Take care.

Don't you like it?

Mademoiselle, I've come into many a
farmhouse kitchen at dawn. I've smelled

smells. Sour milk, children's vomit.

I had never smelled perfume before.

Then you do like it. I hope you like
this, too.

What are you doing here?

Why, I live here.

Yes, I know, but why didn't I see you
when I came in?

I didn't let you.

I looked awful.

You do me too great honor.

Dr. Bovary, when I saw you come in here
out of the rain and you were so wet and

you'd come so far...

And those awful women.

I cannot do you too great, Honor.

And if I please you, well then, I am
honored too.

You know, I've been thinking your
father's leg might develop

Perhaps I'd better come back tomorrow.

Here, gentlemen, is the monster.

Here is the corrupt and loathsome
creature.

Here is the disgrace to France and the
insult to womanhood.

Emma Ruel.

The flower beyond the dunghill.

How had she grown here?

The kitchen drudge who had dreamed of
love and beauty.

What are dreams made of?

Where do they come from?

Absurd dreams of fashion and luxury in a
farmhouse bedroom.

Who was the messenger?

Ridiculous dreams of high romance and
impossible love.

The cavalier, the serenade, the long ago
and the far away.

Images of beauty that never existed.

These things she loved.

Ruel, motherless, had attended a convent
in the provincial city of Rouen.

Emma at first detested the convent.

The scales, the eternal scales when she
might have been learning love songs.

The discipline, the dreadful conformity,
the eternal uniform when a girl's young

body is budding.

Perhaps it was the discipline itself and
Emma's discontent that drove her to

dreams. and taught a lonely girl to live
within herself.

For these became the happy years, these
convent years, when a young girl's mind

could wander.

And then,

as if to feed her dreams, there was the
old Swiss seamstress, who sang the love

songs of the last century.

And told stories about love in a Swiss
chalet.

And love in a villa in Italy.

And to make the geography lesson
complete, slipped them on the sly novels

forbidden by the sisters.

So they could read about love in a
cottage in Scotland.

And love in a castle in Spain.

Novels.

Novels.

She lived in a world of love, lovers,
sweethearts, persecuted ladies fainting

lonely pavilions, horses ridden to death
on every page, gentlemen brave as

lions, gentle as lambs, always well
-dressed and weeping like fountains.

Oh, love in Italy.

Oh, love in Spain.

It seemed to Emma that certain places on
earth must bring happiness.

as a plant peculiar to the soil that
cannot thrive elsewhere.

She would find it someday.

Happiness.

Fashion.

High romance.

One kind of dream and another kind of
life.

The convent years ended and Emma
returned to the farm.

Had she been a normal girl, her dreams
might likewise have ended.

But in Emma, there was a... terrifying
capacity for pursuing the impossible.

The dream did not end.

She had learned to be a woman for whom
experience would always be a prison and

freedom would lie always beyond the
horizon.

Here in these books, in these pictures,
we had taught her that the strange was

beautiful and the familiar contemptible.

We had taught her to find glamour,
excitement in the far away, and only

in the here and now.

We had taught her what?

To believe in Cinderella.

And now, here, this morning, Charles
Bovary.

Emma Ruel, you cannot know.

He is not Prince Charming.

He is only a man.

It was very wise of you to consult me,
doctor.

In all matters of wills, deeds, notes,
assignments, etc., etc., I'm at your

service. My mind is a storehouse of
details.

You will need a house.

Monsieur Guimard, I haven't decided yet.

You will.

Leon.

Leon.

Please make a note.

A house for Dr. Bovary.

A proper house with a stable and a rear
entrance through which a doctor may come

and go out on his calls.

You see, I think of every detail.
Monsieur, the detail that I want to know

can I make a living here? Oh, yes, and a
garden for Madame Bovary.

Are you making notes, Leon?

Or composing poetry in your head?

My clerk, Leon Dupuis.

Leon's value to Yonville is largely
cultural, shall we say ornamental.

He has no mind for details.

Now, where was I?

Oh, yes. Oh, yes. A garden for Madame
Beauvais.

Well, the garden may present some
difficulties.

Make a living in your will.

My boy, why, of course you'll make a
living. Thank you, Mayor Tuvas. Why, of

course, of course, an ample living. Why,
Yonville is the garden spot of

Normandy. In Yonville, the temperature
seldom falls in winter below the

point, or in summer rises above 86
degrees Fahrenheit.

And consider, monsieur, we have a
stagecoach, the Irondelle. It'll be a

convenience to your wife. It leaves the
inn at nine every morning for shopping

at Rouen.

Why do you laugh?

My wife, she... I don't even know that
she'll marry me.

Oh, never fear, she will tell her about
Yonville. Yes, tell her about Yonville.

Yonville.

It sounds like heaven.

Tell me all about it again.

Well, there's the Place d 'Armes. And
the inn, just the other side of the

This is... The mayor said I should tell
you about Yonville, but I never thought

it would work this well.

Your father's almost well now, and I
guess I won't get to see you anymore.

Well, I mean, you haven't known me very
long, but... Emma, please,

will you marry me?

Oh, I'm sorry.

Well, there's no reason in the world why
you shouldn't marry me. I'm not a very

good doctor. I'll be lucky if I make a
living.

I haven't had much schooling. If I work
hard, it's because I know I have little

talent. I have to work hard.

Don't say that.

Emma, listen to me before you say
anything.

I'm easy to get along with and I'll be a
good husband, but I'm not very

exciting.

Charles, Charles, you're the handsomest,
most distinguished man in all this

world.

Emma, remind me to thank that mayor.

What?

How can you laugh at that? They mean
well.

Take me away, Charles, please.

I would like to propose a toast.

A

country

wedding scene.

The cruelty.

The ugliness.

The drunkenness. Lettuce.

Vulgarity. The sheer noise.

From the dunghill beside the door.

From the boors of the back country.

And the shame.

He took her away.

Your view.

It's like a picture in a storybook.

Ippoli, the in -boy, he'll take care of
your horse.

I didn't think you'd want to be bothered
tonight by such a detail.

Ippoli!

Light the lantern.

Also, some of our leading citizens
planned a formal reception for you

I took the liberty of discouraging them.

Oh, it seems we've found a friend.

Thank you.

It's a small village.

I hope you'll find another.

Why, we'll find many friends.

Of course you will.

Don't expect too much of the house,
though. This isn't Paris.

In my humble opinion, it's a modified
rat trap.

Why, Monsieur Dubuis, I'm sure it's a
beautiful house.

Well, I'm sure you can make it
beautiful.

There's a linen draper here named Herod.

He's a scoundrel, but he knows his
business.

He can help you.

Don't let me intrude further on your
privacy.

I live alone with my mother. I believe
she's waiting up for me.

Good night and congratulations.

Oh, the key.

Oh, good night.

Oh.

Ippolit, what are you going to do?

Stand there all night?

Could it have been otherwise?

She had wept, no doubt, in the early
morning hours.

Was Emma the first bride to weep while
the bridegroom slept?

Or the last?

Tristan?

Lancelot?

Love in a Scotch cottage.

Love in a Swiss chalet.

Charles, wake up. Charles.

Charles,

I'm going to make you the most beautiful
home in Yonville.

This side of rural.

This side of paradise. What are you
talking about?

This house.

It's so ugly.

I'm going to do it over myself.

No, I mean it. I'll talk to that linen
draper. And that young man last night,

the clerk. He seemed to have good taste.
Good morning, Madame Poufrey.

I will, I will. I'll give you a home you
can be proud of. We'll be gay, we'll

entertain.

New dreams for old.

Could this morning have been otherwise?

Well? Higher, Leo.

Higher yet.

Could you get it to the top? I'll try.

Oh, I shall probably be impaled on the
arrow.

I have poor arrows.

But for you, Madame Bovary, I'd die with
an arrow through my heart.

Oh, Leo, I can't believe you've never
been to Paris.

Oh, this is lovely.

How much is it in Cielo? For you, Madame
Bovary, 12 francs a yard.

For anybody else, 10.

What a scoundrel.

It's quite expensive, isn't it?

Let me see now. The chair, that was 30.

And the sofa and the mirror.

I must have the mirror.

And my new carpet.

My poor husband, when he sees the bill.
You know, we can keep anything you

choose, a private transaction between
you and me.

I'd have to ask you to sign certain
notes, just as a matter of record.

Monsieur, I couldn't.

Oh, this is nice, isn't it? You have
unfailing taste.

Madame Bovary, you have only to command,
and I will undertake to provide

anything you wish.

Furniture, gowns. I make regular trips
to Rouen.

And I have connections with the best
houses in Paris.

Oh.

Charming, isn't it?

Oh.

I can't, of course, accuse the woman.

But I certainly am my suspicious.

After all, to allow this strange man
into her shop and to close the shutters.

Oh, it was all well and good to claim
he'd come to repair her stove.

She might just as well have said that
her bread needed a bit of yeast.

Excellent. Madame Bovary has requested
me to read you a selection from one of

the greatest works of poetry, The Iliad.
Ah.

By Homer.

The Iliad, my favorite epic, one of the
noblest achievements of literature. I

myself had the good fortune of hearing
it read by one of our greatest actors at

the comedy in Paris.

Monsieur... Pardon, pardon.

Oh, Greeks, risk... Respect your fame.

Respect yourselves.

And learn an honest shame.

Magnificent. Let mutual reverence,
mutual warmth inspire.

And catch from breast to breast the
noble fire.

Paris, sir.

On balance, sir. One never forgets its
flavor. The mask bowls the champagne.

And if you knew what went on in the
Latin Quarter.

The dance is such a nonsense, you know
it.

You coming? Oh, come in, dear. Come in.

Madame Bovary, the Marquis d
'Anderville.

I must apologize, madame, for taking
your husband away from your soirée.

But I was just passing through the
village and felt an attack of dizziness.

Oh, it's nothing. Truly, I'm honored.
You see, I'm just a village doctor, and

isn't often that I have the opportunity
of murdering such a distinguished

patient. Charles.

Such a handsome young couple.

You must come to the chateau sometime.
Oh, yes. Well, good night.

Good night, sir.

Charles! Charles, he invited us to
Womia, sir.

Oh, no, he did not really. He was just
being polite.

Why didn't I offer him some refreshment?

May

I...

May I offer you something?

Some other time, perhaps.

Good night.

Well,

how's the party? I'm sorry I had to stay
awake for such a long time.

Is there anything wrong?

Emma? Emma?

What in the world are you doing up here?

Well, everybody's gone home. I thought
it was a wonderful party, didn't you?

Marquis seemed like a very decent sort
of a fellow, didn't you? Don't ever

mention his name to me again. I don't
ever want to hear it. Never.

Let me alone.

Emma.

Emma. Get control of yourself.

Charles, I want a child.

I want a boy, Charles.

A boy grows to be a man.

A man can be free.

If he doesn't like his life, he can
change it.

If there's anything beautiful, if
there's anything grand anywhere in the

he can go out and find it.

I want a baby, Charles.

I want a boy.

I want a boy.

New dreams for old.

The dark hours of a woman's life when
old dreams perish and new dreams are

The dark hours when new dreams perish.

Monsieur Homais is opening his shutters.

It must be one minute to nine.

Monsieur Guillaumat, the notary, will
now come out of the Lyon door, scratch

himself and spit.

Morning, Monsieur.

Monsieur? People do the same thing every
day. They have to.

The town clock will now strike nine.

The Eredel will leave for Rouen.

Hippolyte will sweep the steps.

Goodbye.

Leon Dupuy will come running over the
bridge, late to work again.

Do you know, Charles, why that clock
strikes?

To announce the death of another hour.

Good morning, Al.

I wish I were clever. If I were clever,
I could understand you. If I could

understand you, then perhaps I could
help you.

I love you so much, Emma.

I like the clock that strikes the hour.
I like knowing today what'll happen

tomorrow.

I like everything. I suppose that's
what's wrong with me.

What is it you want, Emma?

How do I know what I want?

Well, it's after nine. I have to leave
for my calls.

It's after nine.

My husband has to leave for his calls.

Oh, Beric, how do you feel about that?

Are all women...

Do you remember the Marquis d
'Andevilliers, the man who came here?

never to mention his name to you again.

Yes, of course I remember him.

Why mention him now?

I don't suppose a man can ever know what
a woman really wants or what she really

means.

A bull.

A bull, dear sir. He came yesterday.

He's sent us several of them the last
couple of years, but I never told you

because... Oh, Charles, you fool.

I don't know why he's asked us. I
suppose he felt sorry for us.

You never told me what happened that
night at the party. I only knew that you

hated him. Oh, you idiot.

You idiot. He's asked us before, and you
never told me. I love you.

I should have stayed single.

Bobby Assar.

Bobby Assar.

The only Marquis I ever met.

This could be a disaster, Emma.

This is aristocracy. I know some of
these people have treated their

Charles. You come from a farm. I'm a
village doctor. We're peasants, Emma.

We could be laughingstocks.

Are you saying we can't go?

The one chance in my life? The only...
What are you doing to me?

Are you showing me this and then saying
that we can't go?

No, Emma.

No, I'm not.

Oh, you fool.

You wonderful fool.

Felicity! Where are you going?

I'm going to Mr. Leroux for a new gown.

Good evening, madam.

Delighted to see you.

Doctor, what a charming couple.

Doctor,

as your host, I demand the privilege of
the first dance with your wife.

Perhaps you'd care to join the games in
the billiard room.

Thank you.

That's my wife.

A most amazing hunting country in the
world. That's right.

Wild boar, deer, stag.

I wish you'd join us. I'm afraid it'll
be impossible perhaps the next time. Oh,

what a pity.

Who is she?

Some doctor's wife.

Oh, yes.

The peasant.

Oh, I'm sorry. This is a waltz, and I
don't waltz. It's quite easy. I can show

you. Oh, no.

No, I should be afraid to try.

May I?

Oh, I'm sorry. I don't waltz.

No, really.

I can't breathe.

I'm going to faint.

The lady is going to faint.

Break the windows.

I don't like to disturb Dr. Bogery. He's
in his consulting room. It's Monsieur

Leon. I'll be right down.

Wait.

Send him up.

Up here?

All the years.

And I've never been up here before.

How is Bobby, sir?

Now, after all this... Don't.

Don't.

Now, this is not Paris.

This is a small village.

Charles is down there.

Madame Bovary? Yes?

Madame Dupuy is calling.

Did you say Madame Dupuis?

Yes.

Good afternoon, Madame Dupuis.

Mother! Forgive this intrusion. Oh, it's
nothing.

Leon was helping me. I was trying to
clear out some trash in the attic. Yes.

Won't you sit down, please?

Where is Dr. Bobrit?

Why, I believe he has a patient.

Did you want to see him? No.

It's always such a pleasure to see you,
Madame Bovary. You're so beautiful.

Leon sees you so often and I get so
little chance.

Leon is very sensitive to beauty.

He's a very susceptible boy.

Mother. Yes?

Would you like some chocolate? I'll ring
for Felicity. No, I can only stay a

moment.

How is your husband, Madame Bovary?

Oh, he's well.

Very well.

Busy, of course.

Yes, of course, a nice man. Not
brilliant, but then if he were

would leave for Paris.

Then who would stay in Yonville and look
after simple people like me?

That's quite right, Madame Dupuy.

I'm happy you understand your husband so
well, Madame Bovary.

Leon is leaving for Paris.

Yes.

Mother!

An old friend of the family will find
him a position, perhaps in Paris,

in Rouen.

I didn't know.

You didn't consult me.

What is this? I thought you always
wanted to go to Paris.

But this is absurd.

Don't tell me that you suddenly find
greater attraction in Yonville rather

in Paris.

No.

No, of course I... Don't you agree,
Madame Bovary, that my son has no future

Yonville?

Yes, I've overstayed my welcome. Please
give my best regards to your husband.

Come, Leon. You may see me home.

Well, go on. Don't keep your mother
waiting.

There we are. That's fine.

I'll be a little sore for the next few
days. Oh, I'm sorry.

Oh, Emmett, did you want to see me?

No, I... Come in, dear, please. I'm just
finished.

Is Leon still here?

Leon is going to Paris.

He'll never be back.

Oh, I'm sorry.

So that's what he always wanted, isn't
it?

Stupid little village.

Stupid village.

Please, I intrude.

Monsieur Rodolphe Blanchet.

I believe we met at Beaubier, sir.

Well, I'll go along now.

I'll bring you this Dow fellow, quite so
we can feel as well. That'll be fine.

Come along.

Our village of Yonville is honored today
in having been chosen to present the

agricultural show of the entire Seine
district.

Oh, you see, madame, it's in the air.
Everyone senses it. This is the age of

progress. Mark my words, madame Bovary,
you will live to see miracles of science

unheard of. The blind will see, the lame
will walk. Ah, where is it? There,

look, look, madame. A perfect example.

Do you see that poor, wretched event?

Do you know, madame, that physicians in
Paris have practically perfected an

operation for the cure of stropopathy?
Or, to be exact, endotropopathy? Or, to

be vulgar, a clubfoot? May I be
permitted, first of all, to pay a

administrators of our government?

Ah, were I but a physician, I could cure
Hippolyte, yes, and bring renown upon

our village and celebrity upon myself.

I might even be awarded the Legion of
Honor.

Monsieur Armé, it's so hot. Would you
excuse me? Certainly, madame.

You farmers, agricultural laborers, have
understood... She's taken his arm.

They do say he has plenty of money.
Plenty of money and no wife. You know

that means? It means he'll continue to
have plenty of money. Oh, Mr. Leroux.

More patriotism than in the country.

I'm sure everybody's asking why a man
like you would come to a village fair

this. Why?

Well, because I've run out of excuses.

For weeks I brought my man to your
husband.

until not even I could pretend it was
still ailing.

So now I'm reduced to agricultural
chores.

Madame Bovary?

You villain.

So now you want to risk my reputation in
public places.

What alternative do I have, since you
won't let me risk it in private?

The welfare of the seamen, the
fishermen, the rich man and his

chateau.

Upon the broad hands of the
agriculturalists...

sowing his seed, reaping his harvest,
planting his cabbages, depends on great

industrial centers where commerce and
fine arts are flourishing.

But the farmers cry for fertilizer, and
there is no fertilizer.

Shall we listen to the speech?

My husband's sitting not 30 feet from
that window.

My darling, I know what you're going
through.

Your duties, your loyalties, your chain.

But this face. Now, before heaven, must
this face be wasted on the shopkeepers

of your view?

This face that haunts me, drogs me.

These hands that were designed for a
thousand pleasures.

These lips.

Were they meant to speak of love or
groceries?

Down, Rudolf, down.

And now we ask for manure.

We demand manure.

I adore you.

That's my husband.

Be careful, they'll see us.

Well, then, for heaven's sake, let's go
where they can.

I've got to be down there while he's
speaking. Why?

I can't hurt him that way.

No, Rolf, don't touch me.

Please.

No.

When will I see you?

Rolf, I... Have you a horse? Do you ever
ride? Now just tell me, do you ever

ride? No, please.

Idiot!

You might have poisoned us all. Do you
want to see me in a prisoner's dock with

criminals? Do you want to see me dragged
off to the scaffold?

Speak. Answer me.

Articulate. Say something.

He told me to get you a spare pan. Did I
tell you to get it from my laboratory?

Look. You see this jar? You see what it
says?

Dangerous. Do you know what's in it?

Arsenic. You've taken a pan that was
next to it. Monsieur May. Oh, you

Oh, Madame Bovary.

Oh, you've no idea what I have to
contend with.

Sometimes I'm horrified myself when I
think of my responsibilities.

Monsieur May, may I speak to you for a
moment alone, please?

Please. You stand.

Put down that jar.

Go back into the kitchen.

Madame. Monsieur May. If you please.

Yesterday at the fair, when you said
that if you were a physician, you could

cure Ippolit.

Madame Bovary, you mean to say you were
listening to me? I'm dumbfounded, but

I'm very flattered. You said that a
doctor could win the Legion of Honor.

I said that no one would listen to me.
Could he really win the Legion of Honor?

Well, I'll only say that if an obscure
village doctor could perform such a

feat, his name would be blazoned across
France. You're sure it can be done?

Why, dear lady, I have... All the
information here, all the literature.

Why do you ask?

Charles will do it.

Charles? Oh, Monsieur Almay, if he could
only be important and famous and people

listen to him.

He'll do it. I'll talk to him.

Have you said anything to him yet?

No, but I will.

You're afraid he can't do it? No, no,
not at all. Why, any physician, it's

simple surgery. It's merely a matter of
following directions. It has been done,

hasn't it? Well, I won't say that it's
been done, but the method has been

perfected. And, Madame Bovary, it is
typical of the threshold of the great

advances of science. First, the method.
Second, the practice. And, ah, this is

inspiration. You'll help him? You'll
find all the books? Help him. I shall

devote every waking moment to this great
project.

Charles, you'd be famous.

You'd be known and respected.

And Omé will help you.

He's finding more articles about it now.

Where? Where's he looking for them? In
some butcher's catalogue?

Charles Bovary, the butcher of Yonville.

Why do you want to talk like that?
Because I don't want to talk about it at

Emma, I don't say that it can't be done.
Perhaps. How do I know? But I do say

that for me to attempt an operation like
this would be butchery.

How many times have I told you that I am
no surgeon? I'm not even a good doctor.

I have a right to be a doctor just as
long as I know my limitations.

Why did you ever think up something like
this?

Do you want me to love you or don't you?

Don't you understand that I'm trying?

I know you love me. I know you're good
to me.

Oh, I'd rather you were worthless and
dashing and brutal than that you'd

any man who looked at me.

Emma, this is a storybook.

Oh, I don't want you like that. I don't
expect it of you. But if only you could

be famous.

If you could be the kind of man who
wears the Legion of Honor.

Charles, you could push me aside and
ignore me.

But how I could love you.

This is still a storybook.

I can't help it.

It's how I am.

Save me, Charles.

Save me before I... Before what?

I don't know.

I don't know.

The whole village is cheering you.
Already you're a famous case. You'll be

hero to all France.

Leave him alone.

I don't want to be a hero.

What are you afraid of?

You'll feel no pain.

Well, practically no pain at all.

A mere sniff.

No worse than the extraction of certain
corns. But how jolly and brisk you'll

feel afterwards.

And how much handsomer you'll be.

Come, come, man.

Where's your vanity?

You want to be rid of that hideous
deformity, don't you? And be like other

people?

Yes, indeed. And what a fine figure
you'll come strolling around.

And how you'll please the ladies.

Who knows but what you may be dancing
with the girls at the next village

festivities. Oh, you'll be a gay dog. A
gay dog. I can see now there'll be no

stopping you.

Dance with the girls.

Go on, Evelyn. I'm not able to kill you.
Go on back to work. What are you doing?

Let go of him.

Dr. Bowie.

not make him or anyone else the victim
of my blunders. You disgrace our

What happened?

Charles, the operation.

I, uh... I didn't perform it.

How could she have gone riding? I had
the horse.

She... Mr. Leroux, the linen draper? He
brought her a horse this morning.

I believe she bought him.

Oh, Charles.

Where have you been?

Riding. I tried to come in quietly,
but... Why?

Oh, I don't know. I have a headache.

The riding. Some other time. You bought
a horse.

I'll pay for it myself. I'll use my
dowry. Your dowry's all gone. I don't

to talk. Where did you go? Do I have to
come in and report to you?

Am I a child?

Can I leave the house?

I can't have this. I can't have that.
Emma, look at me.

Don't go away from me. I'm so tired. I
don't care about the money.

I know you don't, Charles.

Please.

I love you so much. I mean, you know I
love you.

I know you do, Charles.

I know you do.

Good night.

Please.

It's almost noon.

Why must it always be time to go home?

It's you, I know. You're glad.

You want to call your dogs and go back
to your hunting.

The pheasants are excellent this year.

Oh, you beast.

I could take my revenge on you, Rudolph.
You know I could.

I could straighten up this room.

The way you live.

With everything piled every which way.

Guns and boots and pipes and...

Magazines and books. I like it.

What a woman could do to this house.

Oh, I know what a woman could do to this
house.

She could destroy it.

I knew you, witch.

The woman were you.

I'm in love.

Like a silly schoolboy.

I'm falling in love.

That this should have happened to me.

Oh, brother. I'm bewitched.

I'm losing my interest in pheasants.

I wake up in the morning.

Do I think of my best hunter that went
lame?

No, I think of you crossing the fields
and hope you aren't seen.

I'm losing my senses. You possess me,
you possess my house. You know every

corner of it as if it were yours.

I detest this intrusion.

I adore my bachelor of privacy.

But I adore you more.

Oh, Rudolph.

Rudolph.

Am I joking?

Your letter.

And what are these?

Are the letters?

St. Petersburg?

Rome?

Paris?

I kept souvenirs when I was young.

I no longer bother.

I don't like it, Rudolph.

It's my life.

Don't torture me. Don't destroy me.

Tomorrow.

I'll put her to bed. But I always... Is
she my child or isn't she?

But she's your... Oh, darling.

Oh, Bear, darling.

Darling, darling. It's just Mommy. Oh,
we take the shoes off, huh? We take the

shoes off. Oh, darling.

Here, Mommy will sing to you.

Sunset. They go down for water.

Would you take me away, Rodolphe? We've
a few more minutes.

No, I... I meant away.

You and I, Rodolphe.

Someplace... Somewhere where it's only
ourselves and... And we'd never have to

go home.

I... I don't want to go home.

We could never come back, Emma.

I can't face him.

I can't look at him.

I go home and I... Your child.

This is where dreams leave off, Emma.

You know I would live if we couldn't
take her with us.

I know.

How long can I pretend that I have any
right to her? I lost her, Rudolph.

I lost her to Charles.

I've even lost her to my servant.

But, Madame Bovary, two travelling
trunks and travelling clothes.

An entire southern wardrobe.

These notes.

Nothing yet paid on these notes.

But you renewed them for me at twice the
interest.

Surely, surely, but I am a businessman
and I must consider the risk.

There isn't any risk.

I'm going to Italy.

I'm taking a holiday.

Of course.

Why don't I just speak to your husband
about it? No.

Isn't your husband going?

He's busy.

His practice... I see.

Of course, if some reputable gentleman
were willing to countersign these notes,

your husband, for instance, or the
master of La Ruchette.

What's his name?

Monsieur Boulanger.

What are you saying?

His name just happened to come to my
mind.

This is impudent.

I hardly know Monsieur Boulanger.

I am a discreet man, Madame Bovary.

I am in the business of making money.

I leave matters of morals to the
priests, to the philosophers.

I ask only one question.

What is the risk?

I'll make out a note.

I'm afraid it will have to be for double
the value of the merchandise received.

Now, if I know from your lips that you
are going off with the master of La

Rochette, then I shall not hesitate to
accept this note.

Even if you don't come back, I'll have
confidence that someone will pay it.

Who do you mean, Charles?

When are you leaving?

Friday a week.

What means the transportation?

The mail coach in the evening.

The mail coach says we're stopping your
bill.

Rodolph will arrange it.

Your trunks will be waiting in the front
of my shop.

The coach can pick them up here, and
your husband be never the wiser.

Madame Bovary?

hope you like it. I've never been there
myself.

Thank you.

There's a basket of fruit on the table
there.

No shit.

No, I didn't know.

The letter.

The letter.

Can you see what I have here?

It's the letter.

I haven't read it.

Darling, please try to understand me.

Can you see what I'm doing?

Emma.

Can you see this?

Can you see it?

Hello.

Was it sickness?

If sickness, was it of the body or of
the soul?

The summer fled.

Autumn pursued it down the empty spaces
of half forgetfulness.

And then, in the winter months, Emma
recovered.

She recovered, that is, in the sense
that she did not die.

But while Emma had given up all hope,
Charles had not.

The mustache, the clothes. You see, it's
an old friend of mine.

What in the world are you doing in
Rouen? I thought you were in Paris.

Oh, it's a long story. What are you
doing in Rouen? You'll never leave

Come, I ride with curiosity.

Emma, you can join us, can't you? Of
course.

And then faint.

Look.

Leon.

Leon Dupuy.

Charles, you knew he was in Rouen all
the time.

You arranged it. No, it was luck. It was
absolute luck. He won't even tell me

why he left Paris.

Oh, look at him. The man of the
boulevards.

Why did you leave Paris?

No mystery.

There was a law firm here, Roy.

A partnership.

Oh, the sacrifices one makes on the
doubtful altar of success.

Oh, I'm sorry.

I said that I did like the

opera. Everything except the music.

It's all over. Here come the people. I
wish we hadn't missed the third act. Oh,

you know, you couldn't have stood
another minute of it.

That dreadful Lagardie.

Precisely. Why, in Paris, Lagardie is
regarded as quite... Oh, really?

I was just beginning to like him.

You're the most wonderfully stubborn man
alive.

I wouldn't know about that.

You should be happy.

Well, you didn't have to watch Lagerty's
third act before.

In Paris, you know, he's considered a
has -been. But here in the provinces, I

suppose we are still impressed with his
reputation with women. His what?

Oh, Leon, tell us.

Didn't you know?

Why, he's quite notorious.

Countesses, duchesses. Oh, I should have
stayed for the third act.

No, I need you.

Darling, you should have forced me to
stay. I should have... Oh, no, I must be

drunk.

Waiter, bring me the bell, please.

You know, my head goes around and
around.

Oh, here, Charles. No, no, no.

You know, we could come back tomorrow
night to see the third act.

Darling, why don't we stay over an extra
day?

Oh, no, I can't. All my patients are
waiting for me to get back so they can

What a pity. You know, that third act
does have some fascinating moments in

The great Arya. Oh.

I can't bear it. I want to see the third
act. Oh, you know, I'll never

understand a woman.

Well, you stay. You stay over until
Sunday.

No, no, we have to go back. No, no, you
stay over at the Crow Loose. I'll go

home. I hate Lagarde.

Darling, be serious.

May I? Yes, of course.

Make him take you. He likes Lagarde.

Charles, you are a darling

Monsieur Dupuy? No, no, go away, please.
What is it?

Are you Monsieur Dupuy?

Yes, yes, what is it? No.

What are you doing in my room?

I sent you a note.

I don't find it satisfactory.

People from Yonville stay here. Somebody
may have seen you.

You'll treasure the memory of our
friendship in Yonville.

Please get out.

My woman of the world.

Flirt with me in public.

Lead me along.

Benny, private.

Oh, no. Go away. Get out. I meant it. I
meant what I said in that note.

Spoiled, ridiculous child.

a little rendezvous in a horrid little
hotel.

Is this what you think I am?

The way you deceived Charles.

The way you tricked him. The way I
tricked him.

Can't you be ashamed? Charles is your
friend. He trusts you.

Charles. You know it isn't Charles.

What happened?

You're dressed. You intended to meet me.

This is where I end up.

A dirty little hotel bedroom.

Broken mirrors.

No curtains on the windows.

Don't tell me.

You know me, Leo.

This wasn't what I ever wanted.

Did I ever want anything cheap or ugly?

Is it a crime to want things to be
beautiful?

I love you, Emma.

No, somebody saw you. Somebody must have
seen you.

Where's Dr. Bovary?

Isn't he home? He was called away.

He won't be home until tomorrow.

What happened?

He's gone to Dodeville. His father died.

Poor Charles.

What a pity.

Hello, Baird.

I felt sorrowful for the master.

What do you mean, that I don't?

I mean there's so much happening. His
wife away, and his father, and the

The bills? What bills?

Something with this linen draper thing.

How should I know?

I signed those notes. You agree.

My husband wasn't to know about it. I'm
pressed for money myself.

But you went to him.

You broke your word. Don't be alarmed. I
only showed him a bill for a thousand

francs. Poor man, if he knew the whole
amount.

Monsieur Leroux, this isn't the time.

He's upset.

His father and the funeral and settling
the estate.

The estate?

What's it worth? I don't know.

Find out. Sell it.

How could I? It belongs to Charles. At
least investigate it. Do you know anyone

who could handle it for you?

I know a lawyer in Rouen.

He's quite successful.

Excellent.

Madame Bovary.

to instruct you.

You are a clever woman. Your husband is
not a clever man.

All right.

He's upset. When he comes back from
Deauville, share his burdens.

Save him from the sad business of
settling his father's estate.

Get him to give you his power of
attorney.

Take it to your lawyer in Rouen. Have
the estate investigated. If it's worth

anything, sell it. And report back to
your husband that it was worthless.

Madame Bowley, you don't seem to
understand that you are in trouble.

That'll be all, thank you.

Could I get you some... No, no, nothing.
Thank you.

Oh, you're here.

I meant to be here when you arrived.

Well, I got here earlier than I
expected.

I brought all the papers about the
estate.

Oh, my pot is with their parents. We
have a whole week for that. I think

all here.

Oh, yes, here's the power of attorney.

Emma, aren't you glad to see me?

Of course I am.

I must apologize for the room.

It's hardly in the best of taste, but I
did have to find a place where you

wouldn't be known.

I'm afraid the decoration...

Put those things down and get out of
here.

We don't want anything.

Wait. There is something we want.

Bring us some champagne.

Well, you heard the lady. Champagne,
quickly.

Dupuis.

Yes, sir.

Who is this, Madam Emma Bovery?

Why, nobody,

Mr. Dibblecat.

Nobody special.

Where have you been all this week?

Well, I was ill, sir.

Here? Have I a clerk in this office or
haven't I? You have no right to be ill.

beg your pardon, sir.

It won't happen again, sir. Get back to
your desk.

The papers.

You said you wanted new business, sir.
New business? This? I've had a report on

it. Nothing but worthless crap.

I, um... I've wondered, sir, an advance
on my wages.

Physician's fees, you know.

Physician's fees.

Will that be the last?

Thank you, sir.

Degree.

Tell the woman goodbye.

Oh, Leah, I waited and waited.

Our last day.

I have to go back to Yonville in the
morning.

Aren't they worth anything at all?

He had endless conferences, my partners
and I.

They're very conservative men, of
course, but still.

They agree.

The state isn't worth anything.

The power of attorney is there with the
papers.

I'm afraid you won't need it.

Oh, Emma, let's forget it. What's money?

You can afford to say that.

You've got money.

Why is it I should suddenly be
overwhelmed with vulgarity of this room?

Oh, Emma.

Someday, you and I will go to Paris.

You and I, Emma.

I swear.

Someday, Leon.

I'll probably stop hoping for anything.

Here. No more sadness.

Go dress yourself.

We'll dine. The Café de Paris will
subdue our sorrows with wine and music.

Go and dress.

What did you say?

I've pledged our house, our furniture,
everything we own.

What more do you want? To see your
husband, just a few words.

You said that if I signed his name to
those notes and gave you the power of

attorney, you'd leave me alone.

You wouldn't say anything. I have no
intention of saying anything. I am no

-bearer. Then what do you want?

You want something more. I come here
with nothing whatsoever to gain. I asked

see your husband out of a sense of
decency, in the spirit of justice, as

friend and neighbor.

It seems only friendly that he should
know.

Monsieur Guillemin is preparing to take
legal action.

Monsieur Guillemin?

Well, what has he to do with it?

I needed money, so I sold your papers to
him. So you see, it's really quite out

of my hands now.

You take our house.

I?

Madame Bovary, I repeat, I no longer
have anything to do with it. If Monsieur

Guillemin chooses to take your house...
You scum! I beg your pardon. You

monster! It's hardly becoming, Madame
Bovary, for a woman of your character to

start calling names.

I've tolerated your conduct for too
long.

The things I have witnessed... The
cheating, the lying, the insatiable

What iniquities, what sordid passions.

Your child and your husband deceived.
All morals abandoned.

Every loyalty forsworn.

One you indulged yourself with any man
that came your way. Oh, don't, please.

And now you call me names.

I am in the business of making money,
Madame Bovary. A recognized, honorable

profession. A profession which I am
confident bears public comparison with

yours.

Please, I beg of you.

Go on.

I beg of you, humbly.

Please, go.

Good morning, Madame Troubart.

Good morning.

Good morning, Monsieur Binet. Good
morning.

Is Mr. Guillemin in? Yes, he is.

Mr. Guillemin?

Why, Madame Bovary.

Please do forgive me for coming so
early, but I... Quite all right. Will

join me? Oh, no, thank you. Please go
on.

You see, a dreadful matter has just come
to my attention.

Yes, yes.

Unfortunate, these matters of money.

I haven't wanted to bother my husband
about it. Of course not.

I can well understand.

Monsieur Leroux, he said... He said that
you were going to take some kind of

legal action.

Now, just what would that be?

Oh, natural course of events?

A judgment against the property?

The bailiff?

A seizure of said property?

A sale?

Oh, no.

I can't believe you'd do that.

I would be happy if it could be avoided.

I knew you weren't that kind of man.

Of course not.

Of course not.

Nothing parentery, shall we say?

Of course, we can pay.

I have many rich friends who would be
willing to help us if it were necessary.

Yes, I understand a certain party has
recently returned from Italy.

They should have every reason to help
you, according to these details.

You see, I have asked our friend Leroux
to put them in writing.

Amazing. My old friend, Léon Dupuis.

Oh, I'm quite discreet. After all,
business.

This is monstrous. Quite the contrary. I
find it fascinating.

Who would have guessed it? Our own
Madame Bovary. Now, come, come, come.

not be shy about it. I have found the
details most appealing.

Now, my dear, I'm a reasonable man. I'm
not like that Leroy. After all, money's

not everything to me.

Why, Madame Bovary, I'm sure you and I
can work some detail between us. Don't

let go of me. Oh, what a shy little
thing you are.

I didn't want to, Leon.

Who else do I have to come to? I didn't
want to.

Well, I'm sure you didn't. But after
all, 15 ,000 francs, it's a fortune to

yes, but to you with all your
connections and all your success.

Don't laugh at me.

Don't humiliate me.

Humiliate you.

I'm still a clerk. I'd lie to you.

I'm still a stupid little clerk, sitting
on a high stupid stool that I'll never

get off till the day I die.

Now you can laugh.

All my success.

I failed in Yonville.

I failed in Paris.

Now I can't even succeed at pretending
that I am what I'm not.

I thought you'd hate me.

Did you see the master in Rouen?

He went in last night. He went looking
for you.

Has he come back yet? No.

Isn't it proper for me to forgive you?

Surely other women have forgiven you.

Or isn't that fair?

It's fair enough.

I just don't happen to remember you in
terms of other women.

How was Italy?

Can't you guess?

Without you?

No, I'm sure you found other amusements.
Why should I deny it?

Emma, why did you come here to see me?

I came to tell you that I forgive you.

You're pale.

Those lines around your eyes, I don't
remember them.

I'm sure there's a great deal you don't
remember.

Would you offer me some brandy?

Oh, Rudolph, forgive me.

Being here again, seeing you again, I
suppose in a way I still love you.

To the happiest of memories.

And the saddest.

Why didn't you take me with you?

Don't, Emma.

If you love me, why didn't you take me
with you? I'm a fairly courageous man,

Emma. But I was afraid of you. No.

I ask for too much, I know, and I expect
it too much. You ask for something that

consumes while it burns, that destroys
everything it touches.

I didn't want to be destroyed.

Rodolph, Rodolph, if I promised... Oh, I
was childish, I confess it.

We all have to grow up, you know.

Supposing I promised never to expect too
much of you again.

Oh, well, don't look so gloomy.

Really, I swear, I'd never ask too much
of you. Oh, Emma.

Well, you can at least look at me, can't
you?

I'm not that unattractive, am I?

I'm not that pale.

My eyes, they aren't that ugly, are
they?

Oh, here.

Here.

I need money.

Money. 15 ,000 francs.

Why didn't I know it was money?

Oh, I love you. I do love you. I swear
it. Oh, get up, Emma. I can't stand it.

Only 15 ,000 francs. I'll do anything
you ask.

I'll never ask too much of you. Believe
me. I believe you.

I believe you.

I share your humiliation.

Go home. You're destroyed.

I said I'm afraid of you.

I said I don't have it.

You don't have it.

You don't have.

I'd have given my life for it.

I'd have begged on the high roads.

I'd have stolen for it.

I'd have worked on my hands and knees. I
said, I don't have it.

Well, at this hour of the night, who can
that be?

Well, well, just don't stand there. Go
see who it is.

You say one word.

If you make one sound, I shall say that
you gave it to me back.

Say one word. Just make one sound.

Just one.

if you've seen this.

Come to your senses.

I'm not going to ask you where you've
been. I know where you've been.

I'm not going to ask you where you were
in Rouen. I can guess where you were in

Rouen.

Don't hate me, Charles.

Don't hate me now.

What is it?

What is it?

What is it?

Crying? No, Emma.

Always trying to save me.

Why are you always trying to save me?

I love you, Emma.

You came in out of the rain.

And you were so wet.

And you'd come so far.

Where are we, Charles?

Is this our house?

Yes, this is our house.

I'm going to make you the most beautiful
home.

Like...

Like pictures in magazines when I was a
child.

There's not something wrong with things
being beautiful, is there?

No, Emma.

Through this holy unction and through
his divine mercy, may the Lord pardon

the sins that you have committed through
the sense of hearing.

Amen. Through this holy unction and
through his divine mercy,

may the Lord pardon all the sins that
you have committed through the sense of

sight. Amen.

Through this holy unction and through
his divine mercy.

May the Lord pardon all the sins that
you have committed by the sense of taste

and of speech.

Amen.

Through this holy unction and through
his divine mercy, may the Lord pardon

the sins that you have committed through
the sense of touch.

And so it was.

A woman had been born into this world
and had died young.

She had touched on numerous lives.

Some likely.

Some not so likely.

Some despised her.

Some mourned her.

Some profited by her.

And then, of course, there were those
she had ruined who would never cease to

love her.

Now there are those who are offended by
her and who see in Emma Bovary's life an

attack upon public morality.

Gentlemen of the court, I maintain that
there is truth in her story and that a

morality which has within it no room for
truth is no morality at all.

Men may dislike truth.

Men may find truth offensive and
inconvenient.

Men may persecute the truth, subvert it,
try by law to suppress it.

But to maintain that men have the final
power over truth is blasphemy and

the last illusion.

Truth lives forever.

Men do not.