Original subtitles

DANGER: BLASTING AREA RISK OF DEATH

- Is it far to the Guardian Angel? - Very.

Thirty minutes by foot.

- It's that way. - Thanks.

I'll bet you're going to the Guardian Angel.

It's far and your bags are heavy. Want a ride?

- Thank you. - It's only natural.

Here's handsome Patrice with a young lady!

I hope she won't be staying.

I can't work when there are people around.

Thanks a lot.

- Hello, sir. - Hello, Tonton.

What are you waiting for? Serve the customer.

A customer. Why not?

I'll get Miss Guérande.

Miss?

We have a customer.

I'm coming.

- Patrice is here too. - Why didn't you say so?

Sunflowers!

- You like them? - I love flowers, especially sunflowers.

Put a bouquet of sunflowers in her room.

- May I help you? - Has Roland Maillard arrived?

- Roland Maillard? - Didn't he call to reserve?

Did anyone reserve a room?

A room?

Why not?

Yes, a room was reserved.

I gave them Room 12.

It's a lovely room. We'll show you the way.

- I'd like that. - Bring this lady to Room 12.

If anyone calls, my name is Michèle Lagarde.

Fine, miss.

It's been three days since I've seen you.

- Worried? - No. Just sad.

I almost visited you at Cabrière but you don't like that.

So you didn't, and you're nice enough to forgive me.

When I'm alone, I think of you, so we're together, in a way.

Enough scolding.

You're here, you brought me flowers, so I'm happy.

- Have dinner with me. - I can't.

- Why not? - Bobby invited me, in town.

You didn't come to see me. It was just on your way.

Come on, don't be sad.

- I'll come tomorrow. - Really?

Certainly, Cri-Cri.

Cri-Cri, please!

You'll never know how much I love you.

- The end of the earth, isn't it? - It's certainly quiet.

- Was coming here your idea? - No.

But it was a good idea. It's beautiful, wild.

Four years ago, I thought that. I've since changed my mind.

Nothing but rocks, wind and the sun.

Snow in the winter.

It's certainly wild. You've lived here for four years?

I came to nurse someone. They got better. I stayed.

- You used to live in Paris? - Yes.

- Quite a change. - Life was more fun. I danced.

Prima ballerina at the Opera. What do you do?

Fashion illustrations.

Excuse me.

A young lady getting calls every day.

That's all I needed.

What?

Why didn't you say so?

It's about the wine?

You can't deliver today?

Then deliver tomorrow.

Why not?

- It wasn't him? - No.

- You expected him today? - I'd hoped.

The bus already passed. You should eat.

Have a seat.

You don't like eating alone? I'm not hungry.

- Shall I accompany you? - I'd like that.

- Paulette, I'll eat here. - Yes, madam.

- Hello, Vincent and Ernest! - Hello.

- Thanks for bringing my taters. - Don't mention it. We were in the area.

- How about a drink? - Sure, I'll have the usual.

Can I take some lettuce for my cricket?

I can't let my good-luck charm starve.

- He's superstitious. - No, I'm not.

It brings luck.

After 15 years in the profession,

I've seen my share of men blown to bits.

- Isn't your dam done yet? - In a few years, if all goes well.

It's progressing well.

We're doing the last parts with dynamite.

It's delicate work, so we called in a specialist.

- Vincent! - What?

There's my eagle. Come look.

- Where? - It just flew away.

I saw it, clear as day.

He's a real bastard, that nasty bird!

Can you believe it? A poor lamb, sweet as can be,

and that thing swoops down and flies away with it.

A 16-pound lamb! Will he get away with it?

No way. Dawn tomorrow, I'll be waiting.

He's no ordinary man.

Before he came into my life, days passed without meaning.

- Have you known him long? - Three months.

Is he a famous painter? Well-known?

I don't know. His friends know him.

He's so independent, so antisocial...

- Do you like his work? - I'm no expert, but I think it's beautiful.

- Why didn't he come with you? - It's the opening night of his ballet.

A ballet! What did he do in it?

Everything! Sets, costumes, he even found the title:

"Ball of the Burning Men". Pretty, isn't it?

Quite. He must earn a lot of money.

I don't know. He never mentions it. Thanks.

- What's that? - Nothing. Dynamiting for the dam.

Sky, earth.

Thunder, lightning.

Rainwater, dew, murmuring streams.

Air, wind, birds, stars.

Gunpowder, dust, ashes.

Shadows, absence, treachery.

Meadows, shade.

Misfortune.

Night.

The voyager.

- Good evening, sir. - Good evening.

Sorry for arriving so late. I reserved a room by phone.

Yes, I was waiting for you. Right this way.

Follow me, please.

You've already eaten? Yes, I have.

- It's right there, Room 12. - Thank you.

- Good night. - Good night, madam.

Typical.

I fell asleep. I was dreaming of you.

Roland, you're really here?

I beg your pardon.

Who are you?

I'm sorry, there's been a mistake.

You're expecting someone? Yes.

Lucky guy...

I...

kissed you.

It's not my fault.

- It's not mine either. - Of course not.

Forget about it.

Once more, I'm sorry.

I'll get another room.

It's a shame.

I liked this one.

Anyway, good night. Good night.

Can I help you?

I'd like a room. The owner made a mistake.

Why not?

I'll give you Room 2. It's my favorite.

The window was ajar,

the night was cool.

A bouquet of flowers.

And she, alone in her big bed.

Like a dream: you don't know where you are, but it's really nice.

It's lucky she turned on the light. She might've kissed you by mistake.

Did you see her again? Yes, the next day.

I said "Hello", and so did she.

She smiled, and so did I.

- And then? - That's all.

What a torrid affair!

Not an affair, a dream.

She's in love. She's waiting for him.

I heard he's a great guy.

Guys! I've sighted the eagle!

Now his goose is cooked.

- Where is he? - Way up there, on a rock.

This time, I've got him.

He's sound asleep. He looks like a weather vane.

- Hello, miss. - Hello, sir.

- Did the mail come? - Yes, miss.

Anything for me?

Nothing, Miss Michèle. As usual.

- Are you sure? - Absolutely.

Maybe tomorrow.

Why not?

- It's driving me crazy. - What?

Everything...

It's bad enough to wait for someone to arrive,

but when they don't, the waiting just kills me.

"Anne, sister Anne, do you see no one coming?"

Quit your stupid jokes.

- What were you going to say to her? - Me? Nothing. Why?

I saw you looking at her. You got up to speak to her.

- Where's the harm in that? - Did you come to see her?

You're not serious, are you? How childish.

You think that she and I...

She's in love with someone. You said so.

Answer me.

Do you still love me?

You should know by now.

"By now."

- How can you say that? - I meant it nicely, Cri-Cri.

"Cri-Cri, Cri-Cri!" Practicing birdcalls?

Answer me.

Do you still love me like you used to?

- Tell the truth. - The truth?

You really want to hear it? No, Patrice.

Don't be mad at me.

Sometimes I imagine things.

For example, I thought you knew that girl,

that she wasn't waiting - she came here for you.

Please forgive me.

It's just that she's so young,

and I'm so crazy about you.

I'll show you.

Some nights, when you're gone,

I look in here.

What's in there?

Everything: Letters, photos, dried flowers.

A subway ticket!

Madeleine Station. Remember?

It's almost a museum. May I?

A theater program?

National Opera.

"Coppélia: Miss Christine Guérande."

It was the first night.

She was with you in the lobby.

You left with her, but I knew you'd be back.

When I left the theater, you were waiting for me.

I didn't know what to say. Neither did I.

You took my arm

and we walked up Rue Auber.

Paramount movie theater, midnight show.

In the balcony, on the left.

It was nearly empty.

A street corner, car chases, gunshots.

He leaned in to kiss her

and you said, "Close your eyes".

"It's just the two of us, alone on earth."

It was true.

Cri-Cri.

You kept this photo?

"Marie-Hélène, Cri-Cri, Patrice. Vacationing in Le Touquet."

You weren't her friend.

No, I pretended.

You wanted me to meet her

so we could see each other more often.

Put it away. I want to forget all that.

What's that?

I can't believe it!

- Patrice, please! - Let me see it.

It's well illustrated.

There she is, lying in the leaves.

An accident! It's an accident!

TRAGIC ACCIDENT

People all around.

- Dogs howling. - Patrice.

Dogs were howling.

And me, with the rifle.

Darling, please. It was so long ago.

Besides, it was an accident. Yes, an accident.

I was clumsy.

Terribly clumsy.

I bid two hearts.

- Take the trick. - What?

Why don't you take the trick?

How many times must I tell you?

This isn't belote, it's bridge!

Bridge?

Why not? I've nothing against it.

- Last trick, 10 points! - Leave me alone.

Nice one.

It looks like I made it.

- Evening! - Roland, it's you!

You're so clever, dear. It is me.

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!

- Did you see him? - Of course I did.

I'm not blind. What's so wonderful about that guy?

- He's not bad! Tall. - What do you think, Patrice?

Me?

I barely got a glimpse of him.

I'm so happy...

- Swell. - Why didn't you call me?

I was dead.

Murdered by rage, shame and humiliation.

Remember the famous ballet, "Ball of the Burning Men"?

- It wasn't a success? - A disaster.

A shipwreck, and no one even stayed to watch us sink.

The audience left. One by one, they tiptoed out.

I was the only one left in the house.

Why are you pitying me? I'm not.

I'm simply listening. I'm not complaining either.

I've been waiting for days. You said, "Be good and wait for me."

I was good.

Why are you cruel to me? I'm not!

I thought of you constantly. On the road, I thought,

"I must tell her the truth. She deserves it."

"I have no right to hide it."

But I had a few drinks first, as you can tell.

Do you drink when you're in pain?

No, I'm not in pain.

I'm clearheaded. Terribly clearheaded.

Sincerity is wonderful stuff.

Nothing in my pockets, nothing up my sleeves!

The whole truth, nothing but the truth.

I'm a pitiful idiot without the slightest talent.

Not even a hint of talent!

It's no secret. It's the talk of the town.

"Maillard, you deserve an F!"

Maillard, null and void!

Why talk like that?

It hurts me, you know.

I've hurt myself enough. Take your share.

People in love share everything,

for better and for worse.

For better...

What was I saying? Oh, right.

I have no talent. But that's not all, my girl.

There's genius. That's totally different.

Like the golden statue of Genius at the Bastille!

He has no talent, but he doesn't care, he's a genius!

He's a guy like me, the Genius of the Bastille!

Sunflowers?

Unbelievable.

Do you still like them?

You used to call me "my little sun."

Listen, honey,

only one man could paint sunflowers

and his name was Vincent van Gogh,

so what the hell am I supposed to do with sunflowers?

One day, I'll paint

a huge white desert on a tiny little canvas

and everyone will be scared.

Stop! Don't you see how sad it is, how terribly sad?

I can't help it! Truth has risen from the depths.

It shakes it's mane and soaks us! We're forever lost, you and I!

Darling!

Yes, it's terribly sad.

The saddest thing of all is I don't love you enough.

What?

I said I don't love you the way you think I do.

I don't love you as much as I thought.

My little sun.

Of course I love you,

but when I talked about love,

I might have exaggerated, prettied it up.

But do you love me?

I love you.

Of course I love you,

but I prefer myself.

What does it matter? I love you.

What a funny idea.

You'll never love anyone but me, right?

- No one. - Bravo! Fantastic!

That's the best joke I've heard all week!

All you need is love!

You're not afraid of poverty? Not if I have you.

Wonderful! Because you won't have anything.

Nothing! Not a penny.

Nothing but debts. I've got lots of them.

You never mentioned that to me.

I left everything for you. I don't regret it.

You're clearly a modern girl.

Allow me to ask a simple question:

What if I left?

If I disappear, if I die,

it won't kill you, will it?

You must be in such pain to talk this way.

Pain?

I'm not in pain, I'm wounded! Everywhere!

Worn-out, exhausted, a wreck!

My life is screwed!

I've got nothing!

I'm tired.

Listen, Michèle.

If you really love me,

you should leave me.

DANGER: BLASTING AREA RISK OF DEATH

Miss!

Be careful!

Don't go that way!

Watch out for the blasts!

- How many blasts? - Five.

Forty-nine, fifty...

- She's crazy! - They let her pass?

Be careful!

You're crazy!

You weren't afraid?

No, why should I?

You might not realize it, but I saved your life.

Thanks.

You don't believe me? Look at this rock.

It's a small one, but if it hit you here...

I'd be dead.

That's funny.

Yes, it is. You're not afraid.

But when I grabbed you, your heart was pounding,

like in your room the other night.

Please stop.

I knew it wasn't pounding for me,

but still, I'll always remember it.

I shouldn't have told you, but now it's too late.

Anyway, he's the one that matters.

- Who? - The man you were waiting for.

It seems nosy, but this place is so far from everything

that people here are interested in anything new.

To them, you're the girl waiting for a guy that never arrives.

He arrived.

How strange you look.

Like a child who wants to cry but doesn't dare.

Let me go, please!

You don't care if the watchmen don't do their job?

- Why? - What do you mean?

They should've stopped her! Don't they realize?

What if we hadn't been there?

Is it their fault if she didn't want to stop?

You warned her? We certainly did.

We yelled our lungs out. Either she's deaf

or she did it on purpose.

Maybe she wanted to get blown up. With women, who knows?

He was all sprawled out, dead to the world.

So she left. She looked really sad.

He yelled all night?

He threw the sunflowers out the window, vase and all!

He told her everything, even that he was broke.

- What did Mrs. Guérande say? - To give him the bill.

She doesn't need customers like that.

Speak of the devil.

Hello.

I'll have a mint soda. Lots of soda, a hint of mint.

Gentlemen.

What splendid light.

Beautiful day.

"As a fine lady should choose her jewelry tastefully,"

"a great city should tastefully choose it's monuments."

Who's he mad at?

He's an urbanist.

He's writing a pamphlet in protest of the Eiffel Tower.

"We'd like to believe that Mr. Eiffel's creation,"

"which recently came to dishonor Paris's skyline,"

"will soon join in the junkyard"

"the other rust-heap that mars our memories,"

"the Great Ferris wheel."

Excuse me. Have you been to Paris lately?

I left that disfigured city 10 long years ago.

That explains it. They've built another Ferris wheel,

bigger than the other, it's enormous. Huge.

It has a dining car, sleeping car, a movie theater, dance hall.

The whole thing spins at 75 mph. Let the fun begin!

Guess where it's installed. Enough!

I'll tell you:

Place Vendôme.

There wasn't enough room, so they demolished a few buildings.

I don't appreciate such jokes.

I don't appreciate hearing the Eiffel Tower criticized.

What'd it ever do to you? Nothing.

It's just a pamphlet, not a personal vendetta.

I'm happy to hear it.

What a firebrand!

Excuse me, but from now on, I'll work in my room

in peace and quiet!

I can't stand firebrands.

In God's name!

For peace and quiet, rest and relaxation,

come to the Guardian Angel.

Miss Guérande is in town this afternoon and asked me to give you this.

- It's the bill. - The bill.

"Why not?" as you say.

It's incredible how people worry about money.

As if that's all that matters.

You artists are marvelous. So carefree.

How do you live?

It's simple. I live from day to day.

A delicate operation,

and a difficult one.

Take this place for example.

Lovely countryside, comfortable hotel.

What more could one ask?

But as soon as you arrive it starts.

The classic trick, the trap: The bill.

- And then? - What?

I'm broke.

And once more, I wait. For what?

I don't know. A check.

- When does it arrive? - Never.

The check never arrives.

I always leave before then. Rather, I'm asked to leave.

Always too soon.

I'm not looking forward to leaving, but I can't tell Mrs. Guérande,

"I've no money, but I have genius."

"I could decorate your hotel: Angels on the kitchen ceiling,"

"cherubs in the salon, Leda and the Swan,"

"Susanna and the Elders, and so on."

You just gave me an idea.

I've got so many ideas, I give them to everybody.

I'm generous. I squander them.

Who wants an idea?

I like you.

It's a shame you waste your time this way.

And my money.

Listen, at Cabrière, where I live, I have a large room.

I always wanted to do something special with it.

Why don't you do it?

Obviously, you can also paint for yourself.

You'll be my guest for as long as you wish.

Yes, but...

I'm not alone.

Sorry, I forgot.

It's no problem. On the contrary, she's charming.

She'll like it there. It has a big garden.

I also have an excellent chef and a top-notch wine cellar.

If you sweet-talk me like that...

What about the bill?

Just leave it there. I'll pay it one of these days.

I'm waiting for a check.

- A check? - Yes.

Why not?

You can't pay it for me.

It's just an advance since you've agreed to work at the house.

I didn't say yes.

You didn't say no.

How was the water?

It was so cold, it whet my appetite.

Perfect. Come with me.

Where?

The rock in the stream, to catch some trout.

You don't need a pole?

Just my hands. The fish are under the rock.

You grab them while they sleep.

- You really want to eat trout? - I'd like to, that's all.

I might have the solution, since it's Sunday.

What's that?

Did you hear that?

I don't hear anything.

Incredible!

Someone must be grinding their teeth!

It's annoying.

- The trout isn't bad. - Yes, it's delicious.

What's wrong with you?

You're making me dizzy,

watching the door instead of your plate.

Waiting for someone? Not at all.

I hoped to see her, that's all.

She might be eating in her room.

Why not have your coffee in her room?

Listen, Vincent. Can I ask a favor?

You're my friend. Anything I have is yours.

Except the cricket.

Thank you.

Isn't the music lovely?

Music? Sure.

Why not?

By the way, did Patrice say if he'd come this afternoon?

No, miss.

I'm sure he will.

Excuse me. Am I disturbing you?

- No. - I'd like to ask something.

- Go ahead. - I'd like - I mean...

Michèle, the young lady - Yes, I know her.

I expected to see her, but she's not here.

Could you give her this?

It's a good-luck charm, a cricket.

I thought she'd like it. She's not here.

- She left? - They both did.

- Where'd she go? - I have no idea.

Wait. Tonton!

Room 12.

You know, Mr. Maillard and Miss Michèle.

Did they say where to forward their mail?

There's no point. We're neighbors now.

- Neighbors? - They're at Cabrière.

They can't be. Why didn't you tell me?

You didn't ask.

I knew he was up to something. Too calm, polite and obliging.

And her! She fooled me too. She seemed so sweet,

so tender and sad, so young and pretty.

A pretty little liar.

- How dare you! You don't know her. - I know him.

One thing's for sure, at Cabrière, she'll soon lose her innocence.

What about her painter? He probably staggered after them,

to paint their portraits.

Hilarious. But you are sweet and pure.

You stand there like a dolt with a bug in a cage.

What are you waiting for? He has no scruples.

His heart is so hard, and so rotten.

He'll stop at nothing,

and what's more, he's terribly perverse.

He's no normal guy, believe me.

He's dangerous. Very dangerous.

You care about her, don't you? Don't leave her there.

Thanks anyway. You can keep it.

It didn't work?

Unbelievable.

What do you think of that?

- What are you doing here? - And you?

I'm reading, as you can see.

You know what I mean. This is no place for you.

No place for me?

I don't belong anywhere now so here or elsewhere...

So you've chosen the easiest solution: A castle.

- What's wrong with you? - It's lovely. Very nice.

- Leave me alone. - Seriously, it's a great place.

Beautiful garden, full of flowers.

A truly palatial estate!

Hello, sir.

Excuse me for bothering you.

As you've noticed, the doors are open.

All are welcome, even if they're not invited.

Can I offer you a drink? No, thanks.

- Allow me to insist. - Patrice!

Come up here, please.

I've just had the most incredible idea!

- You need me now? - Certainly! Ideas don't wait.

Excuse me.

- I made a fool of myself. - Perhaps, but it doesn't matter.

Dear friend, I've finally got it.

All white.

Walls, ceiling, floor,

locks, doorknobs, furniture, parquet grooves,

all white.

Pure form, pure color.

- Don't you think - - The room will be so white, so bright,

that no one will dare enter.

Obviously, for connoisseurs like us, art lovers,

and to please my patrons, I'll paint a small landscape,

sordid and stark, but in there.

Inside this closet, banished to darkness.

I'll lock the door and you'll have the only key.

Isn't that a marvelous idea?

Dear Roland, to tell the truth, I'm delighted.

Start whenever you like.

I'm sure you'll do something surprising, innovative.

- May I? - Go ahead.

It is your house. Just a bit for me.

- Really? - I was being polite.

Glad to hear it.

"Very dangerous"? How can you think that?

He's very polite, very discreet. I hardly see him.

- Hardly? - He's taken Roland under his wing.

He wants him to paint and stop drinking.

I think it's great.

Why do I even bother telling you?

You're taking a great risk by staying here.

Nothing will happen to me.

You came here to criticize and judge me.

What gives you the right? It's ridiculous.

I'm not lecturing you, Michèle.

Since when are we on a first-name basis?

- My name's Julien. - Julien?

- Don't you like it? - I never said that.

Maybe you were thinking it.

If I said all that, it was for you.

It's not my job to look out for you, I'm not your brother.

Why should I care what happens you?

How about that!

You were there?

- You saw? - Yes, I did.

Funny, wasn't it?

He was in no danger. I'm an excellent shot.

Shooting-gallery guns are a bit childish, but it's high-quality,

very precise.

You don't seem to like guns very much.

It's a pity.

Let me show you something.

Take a look.

A rifle is so beautiful.

You can do amazing things with a weapon like this.

Like earlier, the gardener's pipe,

or that rude, nosy boy who stalked off.

With this weapon, I could change lots of things.

No more gardener, no more pipe, no more boy,

no one.

No one left except you and I.

Goodbye, Bobby.

- Shall we lunch together? - No, we won't.

Oh, obviously. I get it. Bye, Patrice.

- How was your ride, sir? - Excellent.

- What happened to the sunflowers? - I don't want to hear it.

There'll be no more sunflowers. What? I told you, Miss Michèle.

She likes them, but that firebrand can't stand them.

It's like a red flag to a bull.

But Honoré, he takes precautions.

It's not the first time we've had firebrands as guests here,

but this guy takes the cake.

The day before yesterday, Honoré was here,

minding his own business, tending the carnations, smoking a pipe

when suddenly, like a shooting gallery, bang!

Honoré's pipe!

That firebrand shot at me. Are you sure?

Honoré knows what is going on.

Honoré's seen firebrands before, and he'll see them again,

so he takes precautions.

The firebrand doesn't want sunflowers? Honoré gets rid of them.

Problem solved.

You're right. Don't ask for trouble.

What's more, the firebrand owes Honoré money.

- He borrowed from you? - He sure did.

Roland!

Where are you?

What are you doing in there?

Sorry, my friend, I was waiting for inspiration.

- In the dark? - There's nothing better.

Too much light drives painters crazy.

But darkness? It's marvelous.

- I'd like to ask you something. - Yes?

I don't mean to pry,

but why did you borrow money from my gardener?

From your gardener?

You order your servants to spy on me now?

- Roland, don't get mad. - I'm not mad!

But still, I deserve some respect!

My dear Roland, it's very simple.

When you need money,

do me the pleasure of borrowing from me.

Right! Like always,

it's better to ask the organ grinder than his monkey.

I don't agree.

I don't care about money,

I just want some spare change to do as I please.

- What's missing here? - What do I miss? Everything!

Atmosphere, most of all.

The café, the bistro, the bar!

Old friends, new friends. I buy them a drink, they buy me one.

I hate drinking alone.

- I'm drinking, aren't I? - No, you're not.

You pretend to.

You barely wet your lips,

but make sure my glass is always full.

Why? It's a mystery.

I often wonder why I interest you.

Why this lavish hospitality?

Why? A mystery.

Mysteries and witchcraft. Curses!

Curses, clear as day.

That's what I was pondering in the closet.

I thought it over and was sure I'd figured it out.

- Michèle. - You must be joking.

I'm not. I'm deadly serious.

But what a joke.

To believe that Michèle and you, you and Michèle -

You hoped, but no. It's ridiculous.

A pantomime, a circus act.

That's my glass.

Michèle is an amazing girl.

She's marvelous, upstanding.

So pure, so confident, like spring water.

Get it through your head, Patrice Le Verdier.

You'll never know what spring water is.

- That's enough! - Oh, so tactful!

Don't you think I should at least warn her?

Stop joking at once.

Perhaps you're more dangerous,

more seductive and skillful than she realizes.

Girls can be so dumb about men.

Michèle!

Have a drink.

It'll straighten you out.

Michèle!

What's wrong, Roland?

- You shouldn't drink like that. - You're the one who...

What's going on? What's bothering you?

Nothing. I just wanted to...

I hardly ever see you.

I wanted to say hello.

Or good night.

I wanted to tell you something.

How awful.

He can't keep drinking like this.

It's a shame. He has such talent.

We'd better leave him alone.

A pantomime. Exactly. It's a pantomime.

It's a shame. Don't be so sad.

Perhaps you weren't meant to be together.

You're so pure, so young.

Purity and youth are the world's greatest treasures.

I've never known either. Does that surprise you?

I've never lacked anything,

but I was never happy.

I'm not sure why I'm telling you.

I must really trust you. Does it bother you?

Not at all. Why?

You've been avoiding me lately. Did I do something wrong?

No, I assure you, I think you're very...

Decent, respectable, well-educated.

What's that mean?

Empty words. Actually, I was badly raised.

Spoiled rotten - rotten as a bad apple.

They catered to all of my many whims.

As a child, I'd throw tantrums if I didn't get my way.

Once, I threw myself out a window.

I was like that, and I haven't changed.

I'm still capable of throwing myself out a window,

and I'll do it if you don't give me what I ask.

Don't be afraid.

I only want your friendship. I need it.

I'm so alone, like you.

I've suffered so much. I've had such an awful life.

I was married. My young wife died in horrible circumstances.

Horrible.

I fell ill. You loved her deeply?

I was deathly ill. Insomnia, fever, delirium.

I'm better now. I've forgotten.

You can't live with the dead.

How awful that would be.

From the first time I met you on the road,

I wanted to get to know you.

I'm attracted to you,

your eyes, your voice, your walk, your smile.

Michèle.

You're making me suffer. Wait!

Excuse me.

- Hello, Patrice. - What are you doing here?

- What about you? - I don't like you to come here.

You used to.

Why did you do it? Why'd you lure her here?

"Lure her"? Don't talk that way.

You can't keep treating me this way.

I left everything for you.

It's like being buried alive here, and I love to live.

I adored Paris. I wasted the best years of my life here.

They're lost forever.

Don't be cruel.

- You're the one who's cruel. - Me?

Did I lure that girl here?

Don't let your jealousy make a fool of you, Cri-Cri.

Patrice, I love you so.

I know,

time isn't on our side.

Years go by - - And here we are.

- Here we are, with our love. - Or our boredom.

- Patrice! - It's only natural.

I need...

some freedom from time to time.

You know you're only free when you're with me.

We can't live without each other.

We've been through so much.

- Cri-Cri - - Don't forget.

We've experienced things few people have ever known.

You might love me less, but you still like me a lot.

- Don't you? - Yes.

I like you a lot.

If you love me,

can't you see?

That girl Michèle can't stay.

She has to go, right?

- She will go. - You promise?

- I promise. - You're so sweet!

Do you want me to stay with you tonight?

You do.

But I'd love it if you asked me.

Ask me, Patrice.

Tell me you'd like that.

Of course.

Of course I'd like that.

You're not dressed yet?

Sorry. You have a guest?

It was Cri-Cri. She just left.

I have good news.

I'm throwing a masked ball at Cabrière

to celebrate my birthday and a gorgeous young lady.

- Do I know her? - Not at all.

What will Cri-Cri say?

What can she say?

The longest jokes aren't the funniest. Of course.

- The party was her idea. - Nice of her.

Was the gorgeous girl yours? What can I say?

I'm allowed to surprise Cri-Cri once in a while.

My dear Patrice, you're such a considerate man.

Hello, Michèle.

Hello, Roland.

"Hello, Roland." Did you hear yourself?

It's good. You've kept your pretty smile.

- Of course. - Before, you'd laugh.

You hardly ever laugh now. Is it because of me?

- Are you mad at me? - Why?

I wanted to tell you,

we've hurt each other,

but now we're so far apart, separated,

by this iron bar.

If I hurt you, I didn't mean to. I know.

It's no excuse. That's how I am.

I insult myself in the mirror, and I'm too cowardly to answer.

I wanted to tell you...

I'd like to tell you something too.

I want to leave. I want to return to Paris.

- I understand, Michèle. - It's just that I don't have any...

It always comes back to that.

Will you promise me something? What?

Don't ask Patrice for money. Even if he offers.

Don't worry, I'll refuse.

- How will you manage? - I don't know yet.

I have an idea.

I really want you to be happy.

Me too. I want you to be happy.

Happy?

That reminds me of my father.

A funny guy, in his own way.

He was miserable.

But he fought it, gave advice, especially after a few drinks.

"Kid, when you see unhappiness coming, don't be afraid."

"Don't let him say a word. Just attack!"

"He'll slink off, beaten."

When unhappiness arrived,

I opened my door and said, "Make yourself at home."

"Let me get a good look at you."

We think it's a big deal,

but unhappiness isn't that bad.

What's truly awful is boredom.

Boredom.

Good God, boredom.

It's truly marvelous. It's Manon, in all her splendor.

Back then, ladies knew how to dress.

- What do you think, Mrs. Martinet? - Divine. So graceful.

Naturally, Patrice will be the Knight of Grieux.

- How did you ever guess? - What will you dress as?

It's incredible. He hasn't found his character yet.

These literary types have no imagination.

You're mistaken.

Nothing could be easier than finding a character.

For example,

I thought of Cesare Borgia, Pontius Pilate, Napoleon III,

Robinson Crusoe, Don Quixote,

Bluebeard, the Man in the Iron Mask, General Dourakine, Henry IV.

Who else? A Burgher of Calais, Mr. Seguin's goat.

I could go on forever.

No, imagination is nothing.

Mere wind.

What matters is documentation, the details. I insist upon it.

When disguising oneself, it's the detail that counts.

The detail that catches the eye and leaves an impression.

That's the detail I'm seeking.

Excuse me.

How about that.

- I hope I'm not disturbing you. - Not at all.

- We'll let you talk in private. - I was trying on my costume.

I need to speak to you.

I need to ask a favor.

I'm surprised by your visit, but how can I help you?

You've been so kind to me.

I've decided to return to Paris.

However...

I'm sorry, it's embarrassing,

but I need money.

Just enough for the trip

and for a few days until I find work.

And Mr. Le Verdier?

I'm sure he'd be glad to help me,

but I couldn't accept.

I don't know why, but I trust you.

- You're a funny girl. - Why?

You just are.

- He wasn't too nasty? - Who?

Patrice. I mean Mr. Le Verdier.

Nasty? No, he was very kind.

Yes, Patrice is quite wily.

Anyway, I'm glad you trust me.

When would you like to leave? Tomorrow, the day after?

As soon as possible.

Undeniably, Mrs. Martinet,

Catherine de Médicis is an excellent choice,

but what I'm looking for is the detail,

the tiny, unknown factor.

You understand, Tonton? The detail.

The detail. Why not?

Silence, Tonton.

Silence, I think I've...

I'm certain. I've got it. The apple.

The detail.

Here's my costume. The apple.

Get it?

I get it!

Adam!

No, not Adam, you imbecile.

Pity, that'd be a great costume. And cheap.

You idiot. Open your eyes. The apple.

The apple. William Tell.

Hello, Julien.

It's nice of you to come say hello, in spite of everything.

In spite of everything?

Actually, I came to say goodbye.

- You're leaving? - I'm going back to Paris.

- You're really leaving? - Yes.

Michèle, I have to tell you something.

The other day I acted like an idiot, but I had a good reason.

Someone told me some things. She was probably very jealous,

just like I was jealous.

Do you understand?

- I do. - No, you couldn't.

Every night I lurked around Cabrière, below the windows.

When all the lights were out, I'd stay, alone in the garden.

It was...

But you're leaving, so "All's well that ends well."

When are you leaving? Tomorrow.

Tomorrow? Why can't you wait?

For what?

Wait a few days.

It's summer, the weather is beautiful.

At the end of the week, my work's done here

and I'll return to Paris too.

We could travel together.

It's no fun traveling alone.

Perhaps. But one gets used to anything.

If you enjoy solitude, that's terrific.

Actually, I'm fine on my own too.

I'm very happy...

Isn't that right?

- What is it? - A cricket.

A bug that brings good luck.

You put him in a cage and he brings you luck?

He doesn't hold a grudge.

You should let him go.

He's not mine.

What does it matter?

No one belongs to anyone.

If it makes you happy.

He's happy. He's singing because he's free.

- You think you're free? - I will be. I'm leaving.

I'm free, and I'm leaving too.

I'll be even freer when I've forgotten you.

Goodbye, Michèle. Enjoy your trip.

Goodbye, Julien.

I'm shocked.

It's so unexpected.

I didn't see it coming. You can't do this to me.

I must go, I assure you.

Are you blind? Don't you understand?

Before I met you, my life was meaningless,

boring, aimless.

You changed everything.

Even me.

Meeting you changed me.

I'm a new man. I love you.

Please, Patrice. Try to understand.

What is there to understand? I'm so unhappy.

- Why do you say that? - I know.

I can't force you to love me,

but if you leave, I'm sure I'll fall ill.

I feel like crying.

For example, my birthday party.

It's silly, but if I wanted to celebrate,

it was because of you.

I beg you, Michèle. Stay a few more days.

Leave after the ball.

- No, it's impossible. - Why?

I've done nothing to hurt you.

Wait a few more days.

Wait?

Wait a few days.

It's summer. The weather is beautiful.

Would you wait?

- Perhaps. - Michèle!

Please don't assume that I...

If I accept, it's not only because you asked me.

There's someone else who - - Someone else?

Roland?

Yes.

Roland too.

It might make him happy, in spite of everything.

- May I have this dance? - Certainly, noble knight.

Serve a drink to Hamlet

and his sweet little girlfriend, the tragic, marvelous Ophelia.

A drink for the Prince of Denmark! You promised you wouldn't drink.

Never believe a drunkard.

- Why are you smiling like that? - Me?

I'm not smiling.

"Alas, poor Yorick."

Poor Tonton.

"Where be your gibes now? Your gambols? Your songs?"

Look at him, behind the bar with his sad face.

Why such a sad face, Tonton?

Because "something is rotten in the state of Denmark!"

Why not?

- She's here? - Who?

- She didn't leave? - No.

- You promised me! - Don't you know me by now?

To tell the truth,

I care too much about her to let her leave.

I even...

If she accepts, I intend to marry her.

That's completely absurd!

Absurd, yes, but completely true.

How can you torture me like this? You do it for fun.

I don't love you anymore, and you know it.

Why keep up this stupid charade?

Screams, threats, tears,

what will that change?

We like other enough to remain good friends.

Friends?

I need to talk to you. Come.

Come on!

Ophelia?

She's gone.

Did she leave? Her father must be informed!

Polonius, your daughter has disappeared!

- I beg your pardon. - Sorry, you're not Polonius.

Congratulations. For an elderly man,

you're sumptuously ridiculous.

And you are drunk, as usual.

To be or not to be drunk...

I'll translate: "That is the question", Polonius.

Please stop. You go too far.

A little slap on the belly bothers you?

What if I slit it open? What's in there?

I know what's in there. A rat! A filthy rat!

A huge rat!

- Where's Michèle? - You're looking for her?

That's funny. I'm looking for her too.

And I found a rat. A huge one.

Why bother looking for her? She drowned herself because of me.

Poor Hamlet!

Now I enter the cemetery. I talk to the gravediggers,

ones like you, milord,

and why?

Because I know something you don't know.

I'll whisper in your ear. Leave me alone.

"Something's rotten in the state of Denmark"

and something's rotten in there too.

Goodbye, milord.

A rat! I'm looking for a huge, fat rat!

Everything you're saying is nonsense. That's the only word for it.

Why make up such things? Do you think I'm an idiot?

Naturally, you're so pure, innocent, so unworldly!

No, I'm just like everyone else. Like you, perhaps,

but what you're saying is false.

You came to me, acting all sweet and innocent.

You didn't dare ask Patrice for a little money.

You didn't want a little money, but a lot.

And marriage.

- You lie. - Me?

You lie!

You must be so miserable.

A rat!

I'm looking for a rat. A huge rat with an apple on his head.

There you are, Ophelia.

I was so worried. I thought you'd drowned,

floating on the waters because of me.

Please leave me alone, Roland.

Alas, poor Hamlet.

It's your destiny to make them all cry.

Stop acting like an idiot. Don't you see what's going on?

Of course you don't. You just close your eyes.

Close my eyes.

Don't you know what Patrice told me?

- What's going on? - Not much.

A little get-together. A masquerade ball.

Julien.

It's funny that you're here. Does it bother you?

No. I felt so lost, so alone...

So alone?

You don't seem to lack for company.

What a funny costume. Is it a nightgown?

Don't laugh.

I'm dressed as Ophelia. She drowned herself out of love.

Out of love?

Another idiotic game, an idle bet.

- Are you crying? - No.

It's so silly.

Only a minute ago I thought, "If only I can find her."

Then I find you, and I'm mean to you.

I assure you, my dear Louise, solitude weighs on me.

I'm tired of living like a lone wolf.

I can't. I've been married several times.

How do you know this time won't work?

Be quiet. All the music, the champagne.

Don't take advantage of a woman's weakness.

Listen, Michèle, I didn't want to, I didn't dare...

But that's over now. I can no longer stay silent.

I can't live without you.

You're indispensable.

If I told you I couldn't live without you,

it'd sound stupid, but I swear,

if I lost you, I don't know how I'd go on living and breathing.

Wake up. Move. Don't lay there like a corpse.

Something's rotten...

You make me sick. He must be paying you.

Money, always money!

You're delirious, dear lady.

Never. Never, do you hear me?

Michèle will never love Patrice. It'd be so sad.

But he wants to marry her.

No. It's not a perfect world but that'll never happen.

You make me laugh.

I'd stake my life on it, dear lady! My life!

- There you are. - Looking for me?

- Everyone's asking for you. - Except you.

Enough! Let Hamlet sleep, forget the commoners!

What are you plotting with this character?

A charming ally.

Nothing you can do or say will change my mind.

Don't leave me, I'm begging you. I love you.

Little woman. Little heart. Little love.

A tiny bit of love

and an immense, dreadful jealousy, that's all you've got.

You're crazy.

You'd like that, wouldn't you? You'd take care of me.

Put me in a straitjacket.

Then you could kiss me because I'd be helpless.

Watch what you say, Patrice.

There's nothing I won't do to keep you. Don't push me.

You want to forget everything, forget me. That's too easy.

What about Marie-Hélène? You want to forget her?

- Be quiet. - Why? I haven't forgotten.

I remember every detail.

You wore a green suit, we were near the forest.

We heard the church bells, the shouts of the hunters.

Don't forget, I was there when it happened.

- Be quiet! - The dogs, the hunters,

can you hear them?

I hear them, I see them.

And me, holding the rifle.

Then the others arrived, remember?

I sobbed hysterically, like a madwoman. I yelled that it was an accident.

An accident.

It wasn't an accident. It was something else.

It was something else. So what?

Why did I do it? For you, because I loved you.

See? You do remember.

That's very imprudent. Very imprudent.

- Why are you looking at me that way? - Looking at you? I doubt it.

Already so vague,

like a distant relative, a stranger, someone I once knew.

That thin little mouth, those greedy eyes,

that pitiful mask.

It's all over. You no longer exist for me.

What I once did for you, I'm ready to do now

for another.

For another? You'd kill me?

Kill you?

I wouldn't give you the pleasure.

Come dance, Cri-Cri!

Come on, Cri-Cri!

Dance, Cri-Cri!

Remember, Michèle?

The first night?

When you entered the wrong room?

It wasn't the wrong room. It wasn't even luck. It was destiny.

It wasn't luck either, the second time I held you in my arms.

Those stones, falling all around us.

Since then, I keep telling myself.

"One day, I'll hold her in my arms again."

"I'll hold her like this"

"and this time, I won't let her go."

I love you.

Don't say that.

I know others have already said it to you.

What does it matter?

I love you.

Kiss me.

But do I love you?

Why else would you kiss me?

For fun? Just for fun?

- I can't take any more. - Neither can I.

What's wrong, Cri-Cri? You're pale.

I don't know.

Maybe I'm just dizzy.

- What are you doing with that gun? - Me?

- Nothing. - What are you doing?

Can't I have some fun? After all, it's my birthday.

Let go of it. Give it to me.

I'll show you. Watch!

Are you hurt?

I don't know, dear friend. I don't know yet.

Fantastic! Did you really shoot?

You could've killed him.

He was in no danger.

I'm an excellent shot. Aren't I, Cri-Cri?

Poor Hamlet.

The party is over.

Goodbye, Patrice.

Did everything work out? I hope so. She's charming.

- You're leaving? - What do you care?

- You're really leaving? - Yes. Right now.

I don't know what to say.

Perhaps I was...

I was wrong. Forgive me.

Michèle is leaving.

- Where's she going? - Paris.

She'll stay at the Guardian Angel until then.

Fine.

I'll drive you.

What's this? A morning drive in the car?

You'd leave poor Hamlet behind?

The Prince of Denmark loves cars.

- You're leaving? - Yes.

That's good. Really good.

You have no idea.

It's like you're giving me a present.

No. Today Hamlet drives the carriage.

If you like.

Don't worry. It's the last time you'll see me.

You see? She's leaving.

Told you so. I'd bet my life on it.

And we're off! Next stop, the Guardian Angel.

Not so fast, please. I'm easily frightened.

For the love of God, slow down! She's sleeping.

You're abandoning me. I'm desperate.

Without you, I'm lost!

You could do so much for me. I can't do anything for you.

What did I tell you?

People worthy of trust do exist.

It might be a trick. He's capable of it.

My dear lady, I'd bet my life on it!

- Kiss me. - You're crazy!

I saw you kiss him in the garden. Was he crazy too?

Why should it matter? You kissed him, you'll kiss others,

so why not me?

- Look at them! - Michèle.

Roland!

They killed him! We'd have been so happy together!

I'm safe and sound.

You're hurt, Patrice. You're bleeding.

It's nothing. A scratch.

From the glass.

Roland, what's wrong?

Roland! Answer me! Lay him on the ground.

Roland, answer me!

This is terrible. Louise, we mustn't panic.

Help!

Help!

Are you hurt?

- Are you all right? - I'm fine. What about you?

I don't know.

The steering wheel, I think.

It's hard to breathe.

We must do something.

The Red Knight already went for help.

Hello? Anybody here?

No one.

Help!

What the heck is that?

Where'd he come from?

A costume ball. We need your help.

We fell victim to a horrible car accident.

Automobiles! Another invention we did fine without.

Isn't progress wonderful?

- Is anyone hurt? - I'm afraid so, gentlemen.

We'd better bring them to the work site.

That's best.

- What's going on? - I don't know.

Look, Julien.

- Michèle. - We had an accident.

- Are you hurt? - I'm fine, but he...

- Is it serious? - I don't know. I'm scared.

We'll bring them to our house.

I have to sit. I'm exhausted.

- What's wrong? - I don't know. I'm cold.

Very cold.

- Do you have any extra coats? - Sure. We'll find something.

- For me too. - They might not be...

I think I got hit hard.

The steering wheel hit my chest.

Not bad for a Prince of Denmark.

Stay with him, Michèle. We'll get a doctor.

No, Doctor. Driving here will take too long.

Go to the power station.

Vincent will meet you, and you'll take the cable car.

Immediately.

Okay.

Listen, Michèle.

I have something to tell you.

You know the little painting in the closet?

- Of the desert? - Yes, but it's not exactly a desert.

In the background, on the left,

there's a tiny figure in a blue dress, walking away.

You can hardly make it out, but still, it's you.

It's your portrait.

My whole life is a kind of desert

and it also has a bit of you, Michèle.

Why are you crying?

- I know you think I might - - Don't say it.

- It's no great loss. - Be quiet.

You'll think of me sometimes,

and then you'll forget me.

Be quiet.

You'll forget me, gradually.

She'll never forget you. You're just delirious.

Remember? She's a marvelous girl. Be quiet!

Spring water, faithful, all that.

- The doctor is coming. - And here's our hero.

- Julien, make him stop. - Let him talk. He's having fun.

- He's hilarious. - Did you hear? She called him "Julien".

- Isn't that funny? - Be quiet. You're despicable!

Perhaps, but...

Thanks!

I'd have done it myself, but...

I wish I had.

Get out of here!

- Come quickly! - What is it?

The cable car is unhooked, the doctor and 25 people are inside!

- The lead cable broke. - The other won't hold for long!

What can we do?

There's Julien!

- Quick, get it fixed! - There's only one cable. It won't hold.

Hurry! There's no time!

Of all the rotten luck!

You'll never believe it, I swear.

It flew right under my nose.

And I missed it.

It's not a bird, it's a will-o'-the-wisp, a werewolf!

I'm giving up.

I'm no match for that bird.

Oh, I'm sorry.

What is it? Is he sick?

He's hurt?

No, he's not hurt anymore. It's over.

But he was so young.

- Where are you going? - Leave me alone.

- But you're hurt! - Leave me alone!

Patrice!

What is it?

What's going on?

"What is it?" That bastard!

Julien was up there, and he had the rifle and was going to shoot him!

No, it's not true!

It's not true?

You saw him with the rifle. You know you did.

- Don't come near me. - Stand back!

Stand back.

Don't come near me.

Don't come near me!

Don't come near me!

Patrice!

THE END