Original subtitles

BASED ON THREE STORIES BY GUY DE MAUPASSANT

Various ways have been sought to present my stories to you.

I thought the simplest way would be to tell you them myself.

I've always loved the night and darkness.

I'm delighted to speak to you in the dark,

as if seated right beside you...

and perhaps I am.

You can imagine my anxiety,

for these are old tales,

and you're so terribly modern, as the living like to call themselves.

But we shall see.

Here's the first story.

There was a ball that night at the "Palais de la Danse."

The mighty call of the orchestra, bursting like a musical storm,

crashed through walls and roofs and spread through the neighborhood.

Come inside, ladies and gents! There's dancing and fun!

The crowd flooded in like water into a dam.

Regulars from all over Paris, of every class,

came for rough, boisterous fun

and debauchery.

There were shop clerks,

pimps,

and above all, girls,

dressed in the roughest cotton to the finest batiste.

Rich old diamond-laden women chasing their youth,

and poor young girls desperate to have fun, meet men, and spend money.

Men in tails, after young flesh deflowered but still desirable,

prowled the excited crowd,

on the hunt, sniffing out the scent.

A man emerged from amid this crowd.

He was lean and dressed like a dandy.

He looked like a figure from a wax museum,

a strange caricature of the charming young man in a fashion plate.

Hurry! You're late, Mr. Ambroise!

Ladies and gentlemen, the great quadrille dancer, Monsieur Ambroise!

His dancing was earnest but awkward.

He seemed rusty, trying to imitate the others' steps.

He seemed lost...

as clumsy as a terrier among greyhounds.

You dance well.

- What's your name? - Frimousse. And you?

You're beautiful.

Music!

Maestro, don't stop! Music!

It's nothing!

- He's not going to die, is he? - No, he just fainted.

Boy, get a doctor, quickly!

You're needed, Doctor. There's been an accident.

- You found one? - Yes, on the left.

Up there?

- Are you a doctor? - Yes, but I didn't come to -

It's just across the room. A dancer's fainted.

Doctor, don't you recognize me?

Last winter in Nice.

We danced together, but the rain drove us apart.

Well, this time it won't.

I'm delighted to see you again. You're ravishing.

Are you thirsty?

Georges, champagne. I'll be right back.

I'm afraid I can't -

We have no luck at dances.

Look at this.

It would take an hour to undo all these fasteners.

I'll just cut it all off. May I have some scissors?

Get some scissors.

Hurry up!

You have scissors? Quickly! Someone's hurt.

- Your cognac, Doctor. - No. At least, not now.

What happened?

Don't worry. You'll be fine.

What happened? Where's Frimousse?

I'm here.

You'll see her in a minute. Hold still!

Where do you live? - Rue des A...

Rue des Amiraux.

On the other side of Montmartre,

at the end of the Rue des Poissonniers.

Well, you can go home to bed now. Don't move.

My word!

Rue des Amiraux.

Where's my mask?

- Go and dance! - I can't dance alone.

Go! Hurry!

Good evening, madame!

Ladies and gentlemen, come inside and dance.

Baron...

It was a tall building of impoverished appearance

that housed a horde of miserable wretches in rags,

a building with grimy stairs.

I can't go any further.

Come on. You're almost there.

What about Frimousse? She'll be waiting.

She can wait.

Further up?

Yes. Ring twice.

But your wife must be sleeping.

No, she has insomnia.

Heavens, what is it now?

It's nothing, ma'am.

Come on.

He just fainted in a public place.

- At a ball, of course. - You knew?

It's not the first time he's landed flat on his face from frolicking around.

That's a relief.

Come in.

He skipped dinner to be light on his feet

and had an absinth to liven his spirits.

Watch the steps here.

But why does he insist on dancing like that?

Why indeed!

So people think he's young under that mask.

So women take him for a dandy, let him whisper nasty things in their ear.

So he can rub against them, with all their scents, powders and pomades.

Would you help me with this sleeve? Pull up.

That's it.

And now his shoes. They're harder.

There.

If you think he'll move over later to make room for me, you're wrong.

I'll have to find somewhere else to sleep.

You rake, you!

So he plays the young man at balls?

All the time.

He comes home in the morning in such a state!

What devil drives him to it?

Regret at not being what he once was.

He once had more triumphs than all the tenors and generals.

He still looks good for his age, doesn't he?

I'll make him a hot-water bottle.

Surprised to hear of his triumphs?

You didn't know him in his prime.

When I met him, I was hooked.

Like a fish on a line, that is.

He was sweet, so sweet you could have cried.

He took me home, and I never left him.

Not a single day, in spite of everything.

- Are you married? - Yes, thankfully...

or he'd have left me long ago.

I've been his wife and maid.

- What did he do? - He was first assistant at Martel's.

The hairdresser's?

Yes, by the opera house, where all the actresses went.

I'll make a compress for him.

All the smartest ladies asked for Ambroise.

- Ambroise? - That's him.

They gave him a fortune in tips.

They're all the same. When they like a man, they take him. It's so easy.

I spent whole nights waiting for him.

He'd finally come home so pleased, his eyes shining.

He'd start to eat and say, "Another one, Denise."

That man!

He needed to boast about it.

Some men derive more pleasure

from talking of those things than doing them.

Did they call you away from a party?

No, I was there.

You're probably not married then.

When you are, things will be different.

I hope so.

Men! They have to run after -

But that was his youth. He's old now.

Ah, the morning I saw his first white hair,

I did my housework with a lighter heart.

A man changes quickly. In two years, he was unrecognizable.

Women weren't after him anymore.

So he started going to public dances.

It's a frenzy that takes hold of him.

He's calling. - I'm all alone!

Forgive me for telling you all this.

Please don't apologize. I've learned a valuable lesson.

Doctor...

give me your address in case he gets worse.

I don't think you need worry.

He could go on for years like this.

That's good.

I want him to live long and carry on dancing.

The doctor had witnessed a scene from the eternal drama

that plays out every day in every guise all over the world.

To the "Palais de la Danse."

But don't think I only wrote sad stories.

Would you like something more cheerful and warm-hearted,

even a bit bawdy?

A fairy tale for grown-ups?

It's quite a long story set in Normandy,

in a small port town on the Channel.

It's not exactly the residential quarter,

if you get my meaning,

It's the story of a "house,"

but not in the usual sense of the word.

How can I put it without shocking you?

It was one of those "houses"-

but very well run.

Men went there every night like they'd go to a cafe.

The same six or eight would meet.

Respectable men - shopkeepers, young men of the town.

They'd drink and flirt with the girls or talk to Madame,

whom everyone respected.

Too late.

Madame was from a good peasant family

and practiced her trade just as if she'd been a hatmaker or dressmaker.

The harsh prejudice of the city didn't exist here in the countryside.

Country folk said, "It's a good trade,"

and sent their daughters to run harems as if they were girls' schools.

Besides, the house had been passed down from an uncle.

He and his wife had sold the inn they once ran,

seeing more profit in this new venture,

which was tottering on collapse due to lack of management.

They were nice people, and the staff and neighbors liked them instantly.

Monsieur died of apoplexy two years later.

He'd grown very fat from lack of exercise,

and his health gave out.

The house had two entrances.

On the corner was a seedy cafe open at night for workers and sailors.

Two girls looked after the needs of these clients.

Louise always dressed as Liberty and was nicknamed "Pet,"

while Flora, in Spanish dress,

was known as "Swing" for the shocking sway of her hips.

Looking like kitchen maids dressed up for the carnival,

they enticed men to drink.

Look at these curls.

You have lovely hair. You coming?

They worked with Frederic, the waiter,

a tall, dark-haired, beardless boy, strong as an ox.

The three other ladies formed a kind of aristocracy

and stayed upstairs in the "Jupiter" salon with their clients.

Fernande represented the pretty country blonde,

and Raphaele

played the indispensable beautiful Jewess.

Have you thought about me since last time?

Rosa only stopped drinking to sing and singing to drink.

- Can I have another? - The last one.

Good-bye, sweetie. See you tomorrow.

Good-bye, Fernande. See you tomorrow.

Your vest.

- Evening, Rosa. - I'll call Raphaele for you.

All clear.

Monsieur Dupuis, don't catch cold.

And yes, above the door shone a lantern.

I apologize, but I can't hide it from you.

But it must now go out for our story to begin.

It was one night near the end of May.

The first to arrive, Poulain, timber merchant and former mayor,

found the door shut.

Anybody there?

Hello, Duvert.

Poulain.

Where are you going?

The usual place. Aren't you?

Don't bother. The house is closed.

Very funny!

I'm not joking.

I'll go with you if you like, but I assure you it's closed.

There are sailors outside.

Anyone upstairs?

You see?

It's closed, and the cafe too.

The police must have closed it down.

Something I'd never have allowed when I was mayor.

That's how wars get started.

Let's go. I don't like this.

If anyone saw us, it would look like -

- Like what it is. - It's not worth it.

The men shouting are Englishmen. They're used to brawls.

Seems it's like fencing in their country.

Look.

It's Tourneveau.

That's right. This is Saturday.

Evening, gentlemen.

My dear friend, I have some sad news.

We've just been you know where.

It's closed, I know. I went by earlier.

Then where are you going? You know another establishment?

I'm afraid not.

I was going back to make sure, but if you're certain -

Let's go for a stroll. It's a beautiful night

But why were you so set on making sure?

You're forgetting: I'm married with children.

I only go out on Saturdays.

You single men are lucky. You can go whenever you like.

Because we don't have hearth and home.

Believe me: Solitude is tragic. Isn't it?

Worse.

We might as well stroll then. It's a beautiful night.

Yes, it is.

The three men met young Philippe, the banker's son and a regular,

and Pimpesse, the tax collector.

Next they met Dupuis, the insurance broker.

Then came Vasse, justice on the tribunal of commerce.

What is it?

Is it closed?

What happened?

What bad luck!

Their walk took them to the pier.

It's beautiful.

Yes, it's beautiful with the foam on the crests of the waves.

Yes, the monotonous sound of the sea.

It's beautiful.

- But not very cheerful. - Definitely not.

It had to close on a Saturday night.

Right, Tourneveau?

That's right.

And after such a nice dinner, too.

Wild mushrooms.

This time of year? Obviously not picked locally.

Yes, from around here.

There are none right now.

I should know. I ate them.

Perhaps, but you didn't pick them locally.

No, my eldest daughter did.

She spent two hours in the woods picking them.

She spent two hours picking mushrooms in the woods!

What are you sniggering at? My daughter knows what she's doing.

Indeed!

She's almost 17.

I'm sure she's almost something!

Gentlemen!

You're insulting my daughter.

As former mayor, I say the tax collector was in the wrong.

Why?

Because there are things I learned as mayor.

Like what?

Like what tax collectors earn.

A new altercation broke out between the former mayor and Dupuis

about tax collectors' wages and other benefits.

Insults flew, and they'd have come to blows

if the others hadn't intervened.

- You're a scoundrel! - I'll sue you for slander.

He'd best talk to his lawyer. He won't get away with this.

This will not end here. Pimpesse!

How can they argue over nothing?

You call that nothing?

At your age, I was in bed by now, not maligning respectable people!

- He's very young. - So I'm wrong?

I didn't say that. He's just young.

The annoyance had put them all in ill temper.

I tell you...

this is some Saturday night.

Calm gradually returned to the troubled town.

One Ione man still wandered about in hopes of who knows what.

Yes, that was it... "Closed for a First Communion."

Madame's brother was a carpenter in their native village.

Knowing his sister was doing well,

he conceived of a family reunion for his daughter's First Communion.

So the 8... 00 express that Saturday morning

carried off Madame and her companions.

Have a nice vacation, ladies.

- What is it, Flora? - I'm too hot in all this.

Where do you think you are?

At your place.

Don't be insolent. You know I don't care for it.

"Diplomatic conflict between Bolivia and Chile."

That's so far away.

"Fears of war in the Pacific."

What does "Pacific" mean?

Peace.

- Tickets, please. - You checked them already.

Well, I'm checking again.

At Beuzeville a couple got on.

The man was an old peasant in a blue smock

and an old top hat.

His wife,

stiff in her regional garb, looked like a hen,

her nose sharp as a beak.

- Careful with the calf. - Okay, okay.

That's what you said last time, and it fell off.

No longer alone, the ladies grew more serious to make a good impression.

Madame Rosa.

It's a fashionable tune.

The viscount taught it to me. You understand?

Your husband? Is he well?

Not bad, my dear, thank you.

He's on a trip...

to Paris.

What husband?

You know... her husband.

You don't know him, sweetie.

He's incredibly thoughtful.

He sends me...

dresses and jewelry every day.

Even flowers.

We drink champagne with every meal.

He kisses my hands...

and tells me...

wonderful things.

Unfortunately, I've forgotten them.

In Bolbec a bearded man appeared at the last moment,

with a cane, gold rings, and chains.

He was weighed down with a suitcase and packages.

Julien Ledentu, traveling salesman.

Madame Tellier and...

Are you ladies off to a new garrison?

- You might try to be polite. - Sorry.

I meant a new monastery.

Have we left our little pond? We'll soon be on the little spit!

They won't come out. They must have lost their knickers.

Maybe they need suspenders.

Look. Suspenders.

They're not interested,

but perhaps you lovely ladies might be.

Whatever for?

To give to your lovers, of course

Sorry. I meant one lover per lady. The one dearest to your hearts.

- The heart doesn't need suspenders. - That's lovely!

You deserve a reward.

"The heart doesn't need suspenders."

Ready? Here are the goods.

Garters!

All silk, and in every color.

I'd like the blue ones.

Here they are.

- The pink ones for me. - Here.

- The red ones. - There you are.

- Lilac to match my eyes. - To match your eyes.

These are larger, more imposing.

For Madame.

For Madame. Here you are.

Motteville!

At Motteville, the peasants got off with their ducks and umbrella.

The woman was annoyed.

Hussies, just like in accursed Paris!

You're right. They're worthless.

Are you coming?

Now, my little kittens...

let's try them on.

Really?

For the last time, sir, have some decency.

Fine. Then I'll just take them back.

I was ready to give them to you if you'd tried them on.

All silk, in every color.

For free...

- What's that? - I said "for free."

Come on, gorgeous. Be brave!

- It's worth it. - Flora, stop it.

It'll just take a second.

I'm telling you, he pinched me!

You expect a lot for a few garters!

I sacrificed six pairs!

I know men who'd offer diamond garters yet still act decently,

even in a tunnel!

The scoundrel!

Never come knocking at my door! You'll be turned away!

At the next station, Joseph Rivet was waiting

with a cart filled with chairs drawn by a white horse.

- I'm so happy to see you. - Me too.

Careful with the present. This is Madame Raphaele.

Madame Louise.

Give me your bag.

Madame Flora.

Madame Fernande.

What, no kiss?

And Madame Rosa.

Let me have your bag.

Hurry up now.

The name's Joseph.

- You didn't have to kiss them all. - Just being polite.

- Then start with me. - I kept the best till last.

Still, you didn't have to kiss them.

We'll have to make room in the cart.

Mesdames Raphaele, Fernande and Flora

can sit in front.

You remember all their names?

I'm no numbskull.

How gallant of you to bring chairs.

I don't usually carry such a precious load.

It's usually planks or pigs. You know how it is.

Do we ever!

I didn't mean anything by that, I swear.

Julia, you can sit next to me.

- What about me? - Madame Rosa can sit between us.

No. Raphaele, you sit there.

Fernande, over there,

and Flora and Louise in the back for balance.

- And me? - Madame Rosa can hold on to me.

No, she's the lightest.

She'll sit on Fernande's lap.

- That's not a good arrangement. - Just watch the road.

I tell you, it's not a good arrangement.

Look after your horse. Let's go!

The green countryside unfolded on either side.

Here and there, the flowering colza

spread out like a vast yellow tablecloth,

giving off a sweet and penetrating smell

carried into the distance by the wind.

Amid fields colored with wildflowers,

the cart, with its flowers of even brighter hue,

rolled on behind the white horse.

It would disappear behind a bank of tall trees

to later emerge into golden crops dappled with red and blue,

a dazzling cartload of women fleeing the hot sun.

Is that the communicants?

Yes, the absolution.

Is your girl there?

Constance? Of course.

Children need religion. They can always give it up later.

I want to see her.

No, not right now.

Let's not disturb the cherubs. We'll carry on

What a shame.

Marie, how are you?

How kind of you to come.

My wife, Madame Rivet.

- Did I hurt you? - Not at all.

She's starving.

I'll make you a nice omelette.

Here we go.

You have to taste my cider. There's nothing like it in town.

Let's all go inside.

Come inside, ladies.

- I so wanted to see your girl. - You'll see her at the meal.

Here comes Miss Constance now!

Hurry now!

Give your aunt a kiss.

How she's grown!

Hello, sweetheart. She's so pretty!

There are beautiful ladies waiting to meet you.

Go on. Say hello to each of them.

Hello, my pet. She's so pretty.

She's so sweet.

Beautiful hair.

Looks just like her mother.

A little kitten.

Here's the present...

from your aunt.

Cut the ribbon with a knife. I think you're going to love it.

Here's the dress.

It's so beautiful.

Do you like it, darling?

Julia, it looks like business is going well.

I didn't say what business. - Don't speak of sin after absolution.

Oh, the good Lord knows everything.

Careful you don't tear it.

- Lift your arms. - Fasten the hooks first.

Hurry up with those pins!

Not all at once, ladies!

- She's so patient. - So good-natured.

- Just like her dad. - You can say that again.

Julia, that's the prettiest dress.

What would you know?

Why not just call me a bumpkin?

You're better than some city men.

See? And she knows what she's talking about.

Can't we kid around? It's a First Communion, not a funeral.

Arrangements were made so all could sleep in the limited space.

Rivet would sleep on wood shavings in his workshop.

Julia and Marie would take the main bedroom,

with Fernande and Raphaele next door,

and Louse and Flora in the kitchen.

Rosa wandered around looking for her cubbyhole above the stairs.

At the end of the corridor.

Good night.

It's so dark.

The village was wrapped

in the boundless, almost religious silence of the countryside,

a peaceful, penetrating silence that reached to the stars.

- You know what? - What?

I'm all full of emotions.

I've got goose bumps all over.

It's because it's so quiet.

You think so?

It's strange.

Can't you sleep?

What's wrong? You afraid?

What are you listening to?

The silence is deafening.

I can't sleep a wink.

I can't sleep.

Me neither.

But I'm all alone. I'm not used to it.

Go join the carpenter.

You're mad. On a night like this?

It would be bad luck.

- What is it? - It's me.

I'm coming in.

What's wrong?

I'm scared.

Scared?

I'm scared without Mother.

You want to come with me?

Yes, I'd like that.

This way you won't be scared anymore. Come on.

Wait.

Ah, your doll.

There's no need to cry.

You won't be scared with me.

You're not scared now, are you?

Comfortable?

Get your doll.

Sleep well...

my darling.

At 5... 00 a.m., the little church bell woke the ladies

who usually slept all morning,

their only rest from their tiring nights.

The tinkling of the small bell faded in the sky like a feeble voice,

drowned in the immense blue space.

The sun was already high

in a radiant sky still tinted pink on the horizon,

like a fading trace of dawn.

The communicants emerged.

Parents in their best clothes followed their children awkwardly,

with the clumsy movements of bodies always bent at work.

The little girls, hidden under clouds

of snowy tulle like whipped cream,

gathered around the nuns.

Meanwhile, the boys, looking like miniature waiters,

their hair glued down with pomade,

stepped carefully to keep their new trousers clean.

Here he comes.

Here they come.

It was an honor having so many relatives from far away surrounding your child.

The carpenter's triumph was complete.

The Tellier regiment followed Constance,

walking majestically, like a general's staff in full uniform.

The effect on the village was like lightning.

Rivet!

Congratulations.

They're ladies from town.

You want seats?

They'll sit here.

Thank you, Mayor.

- You shouldn't have. - It's an honor.

These ladies bring us the fragrance of the city.

I'll sit in back.

You can sit there.

Is that the mayor?

Yes.

He's a handsome man.

Madame Rosa, do you think he's handsome?

It's a matter of taste. I think you're better-Iooking.

Nearer my God to thee

Nearer to thee

Such is my humble wish

Will you save me?

I await my Lord above

Held in my savior's love

Like a spark that sets fire to the dry grass,

Rosa and her companions' tears spread through the crowd in an instant.

Men, women, the elderly, young men in new smocks -

everyone was soon sobbing.

Something superhuman seemed to hover above their heads,

an all-pervading spirit,

the powerful breath of an invisible, all-powerful being.

No need to cry, Madame Rosa.

Dear brothers and sisters,

I thank you with all my heart.

You've given me the greatest joy of my life.

The dinner was served in the workshop on long boards set on trestles.

The gaiety was held a bit in check

after the emotion of the morning.

But Rivet, in high spirits, and drinking to excess,

was giving the same speech for the fourth time.

Ladies, I too wish to thank you.

You already did.

It's done.

You can never thank people enough.

That's why I want to thank you for coming

to our little family party...

and for bringing with you

your beauty and youth.

How sweet!

We have to go.

Not yet. I have to thank you.

And we thank you for thanking us, but we're catching the 3:55.

No, never!

As long as I'm alive, you won't take the 3:55.

After coffee, there's a drop of liqueur...

and then another one...

and then dinner!

No dinner and no liqueur.

They'll forgive us closing one day, but two - never.

Julia, I understand, but I have to thank you.

You can do that later. These ladies have to get ready.

Hop to it, ladies. Everybody down here in five minutes.

Hurry, Madame Louise.

Madame Flora, keep your clothes on.

Take that with you. You can eat it on the cart later.

Flora, put your clothes back on.

Forgive me, Marie, but if we want -

Joseph, hurry up!

Hitch up the cart.

I will, I will.

Madame Rosa!

I want to thank you.

Madame Rosa...

I want to thank you.

Joseph, come back here!

You hear me? I order you!

Obey your sister!

That scoundrel!

Joseph, come here!

I order you to come here!

Shame on you, Joseph!

Will you listen to me?

That's disgusting!

Come on. It's a family occasion.

You should be ashamed of yourself!

Julia, I didn't do anything wrong.

Can't I even thank her?

I didn't mean any harm.

- What did you do now? - Me? Nothing.

Were you in Madame Rosa's room?

Well, yes. I went to thank her.

They've all been so kind. I'll hitch up the cart now.

It was just like a family, wasn't it?

It's a shame to hitch up the cart now.

Is that the time? I've got to hitch up the cart.

They set out the way they'd come.

The little horse resumed its quick, dancing trot.

Brilliant sunlight flooded the fields covered in flowers.

The ladies couldn't resist.

How I pine for my rounded arms

My well-turned legs and my vanished charms

Mother, were you a faithful wife?

I'll never say while here below

Unless God calls me to him

My confessor will never know

How I pine for my rounded arms...

Madame Rosa...

when I came to your room earlier,

I was a little drunk and excited.

Please forgive me. Don't be angry.

Come, ladies! Let's not miss the train!

Raphaele and Fernande, hurry up!

We won't miss it.

Raphaele, don't twist an ankle in those high heels!

Look how lovely they are!

Let's go, Joseph.

We could have had some fun.

You can't always have fun. There's a time for everything.

The train isn't leaving, is it?

It won't leave without you.

I see some seats. Here we are, Joseph.

I'm sad to see you leave.

All aboard!

Listen, I might come see you next month.

If you like, but no mischief, you hear?

Good-bye now.

Madame Rosa.

See you soon.

See you soon, Madame Rosa!

That night, the glowing lantern told passers-by

that the flock had returned to the fold.

The news spread in a flash, though no one knew how.

Young Philippe was kind enough

to send a messenger to alert Tourneveau, the fish curer.

Come in.

- A sailor with a letter for Monsieur. - Bad news?

No, he looks happy.

Monsieur Tourneveau, the fish curer?

The same. You have a letter for me?

What is it?

Read for yourself.

"Come quickly. Ship returned to port.

Shipment of cod found."

They found it! My coat and hat.

You never mentioned a lost ship.

You know I try not to worry you.

Oh, my napkin.

Good night.

The ladies are back? I can't believe it.

What do I do? - Have a seat.

- Who is it? - Tourneveau.

The ladies are back?

Where's Madame? - In her study.

Hello, Raphaele. Did it go well?

Yes, it was a real vacation.

- Is Madame around? - In her study.

I'm so happy to see you again.

Come in.

Ah, how nice to see you!

I'm so grateful you came back. It would have been a sad week.

Oh, I was tiring of it already.

Where did you take your shipment?

I mean your flock. - To the country.

The ladies are still excited from the trip.

In the meantime, the champagne is on me!

Frederic, ten bottles of champagne for Monsieur Tourneveau.

Flora and Louise, you come up too!

Here's the champagne.

- How much? - Ten francs a bottle.

- It's gone up again? - For you, six francs then.

What generosity!

We don't celebrate every day!

If only you were as generous with your feelings.

- Why not? - You mean you would?

Today I want everyone to be happy.

No! I can't believe my ears!

Frederic, I want flowers everywhere.

The evening was turning into a ball,

a real celebration.

A wave of innocent joy swept through the house.

They were still dancing at midnight.

You just saw the meeting of pleasure and purity.

"The Mask"related the encounter of pleasure and love.

Shall we now see pleasure confront death?

Not a physical but a moral death.

It's a little tragic, but take heart - it ends in marriage.

The anecdote is told by a Parisian columnist

to whom I'll lend my voice, as I've done so often.

Of course it's him.

I've known him for 30 years.

But why did he marry that poor woman?

The same reason anyone marries: Stupidity.

- Still... - There's no "still" about it.

A fool does foolish things.

For that couple it all came about in a strange way.

The girl risked all for all.

I say "risked," but what do I know?

What can one ever say for certain about women?

They lie without knowing or intending or understanding.

Yet there's a sincerity to their emotions and sudden reactions

that puts our reason to rout and turns our plans upside down.

I was there the first time they met.

Jean Summer hadn't yet settled on landscapes or still lifes,

but he hated nudes.

He didn't know that the pretty girl was in fact a model.

He was captivated by how she walked,

her childlike and sensual face,

her slightly gaudy elegance,

and her divine waist.

Her name was Josephine. It wasn't her fault.

She'd had no inkling her fate would be decided in this gallery.

And what a fate!

He fell in love with her

and imagined that he loved her with all his soul.

It's an unusual phenomenon.

When a man falls in love with a woman,

he sincerely believes he can never live without her.

Anyway, he thought he loved her.

He made endless promises to be faithful

and gave himself over to living with her.

Time to eat.

Let's take a break.

- You love me? - Yes, and you?

- It's all over for me. - Idiot! I'll kill you.

- I'm too young. - Then I'll kill myself.

Women always say that.

Well, I'll do it!

For now, concentrate on fixing lunch.

What are we having today?

Some nice fish.

Wonderful!

Big fish?

I don't know. I haven't opened the can.

Ah, sardines.

When you're famous, we'll have salmon.

We'll be too old to digest it.

Such is life, my love.

Old age and salmon, youth and sardines.

Why are you looking at me like that?

I never tire of looking at you.

You're ravishing and -

And?

And I like you.

And you love me, I hope.

I love you.

Could you live without me?

I don't think so.

You have to be sure.

I'm sure.

I love every movement you make.

There's the most extraordinary grace in your every ordinary gesture.

Leaning toward me,

getting into a carriage,

raising your arm,

reaching out to me...

eating sardines.

I've never seen anyone eat sardines like you.

For three months Jean didn't realize

Josephine was actually like every other model.

But his new style was proving a success.

I'll buy No. 8.

- You are Monsieur? - Leconte.

Congratulations. It's sold.

It is? Thank you!

It's sold!

Yes, my darling!

You know what? We'll rent a beautiful country house.

But not new. An old house we can fix up.

- That's expensive. - It'll be fine.

There'll be a tree that's been struck by lightning.

But not like that then. Like this.

That's where their first argument took place, in my presence.

You know how it goes.

Contempt has always followed possession.

To spend your life with someone,

you don't need lust - which is quickly extinguished-

but a harmony of minds, temperaments, and humor.

We were strolling in silence in the woods,

penetrated by the river's serene coolness

that passed through our bodies and bathed our minds in happiness.

Suddenly Josephine cried out.

Did you see that big fish jump?

Yes, I saw it.

No, your back was turned.

It's true. My mind was blank.

Then don't say you saw it.

Are you going to Paris tomorrow?

I don't know yet.

You think walking in silence is fun? People with sense usually talk.

What about you?

It's relaxing. People talk too much for no reason.

You mean me?

Not particularly. Everyone.

Be quiet, will you, please?

Why? Does it bother you?

Yes, you're spoiling the landscape.

What?

You never said that before, you lout!

Then the dreadful and imbecilic scene began,

with unexpected reproaches, recriminations, then tears.

You'd be nothing if you hadn't met me.

Three months later, he was desperately fighting the invisible bonds

with which habit entwines our lives.

You come home this late now?

I come home when I like.

Meanwhile I cook your dinner and await your pleasure.

You think I'm your maid?

If you don't like it...

Sure, you wish I'd leave.

From dawn to dusk, they quarreled and insulted and even hit each other.

You're not going out.

Give me that key!

No! You're hurting me!

Give it to me!

Don't touch that!

- At least you're working. - It's all I enjoy.

Very well.

He needs more and more money.

He's really smitten.

Or perhaps it's for a parting gift.

I doubt it. Painters can never break it off.

So you really left this time?

I couldn't throw her out.

You're doing me a great favor, taking me in.

It's only natural.

You won't be in my way, or I in yours.

It'll work out fine.

We both have quiet occupations.

- What will she do? - What can she do?

Put your things anywhere. She'll forget, and so will you.

I'll make up your bed by the window.

Don't take it so hard.

It's not your fault she became impossible.

- Maybe I did first. - Because you'd had enough.

When things start to break down -

Have a seat.

Perhaps I'd been wrong.

Whether out of love or pride,

she searched for him everywhere.

No one had seen him.

She waited for him every night.

One night around 9... 00,

Jean was working.

He thought he'd gained his freedom.

It's her, isn't it?

Listen, I don't think he can -

I should have known he was here.

You've always hated me.

I don't want your money...

or your letter...

or your good-bye!

I won't be treated like a tart!

It wasn't I who ran after you.

You begged me, and you took me...

so now keep me.

Will you force yourself on me till my dying day?

Let me explain things to her.

- There's nothing to explain. - Yes, there is, my dear.

I have something to tell you. And no scenes, all right?

Don't take life so tragically. There's no point.

He still loves you. It's just that -

He still loves you, but it's the classic story.

His family wants to marry him off, and he must obey.

You understand now?

I understand very well.

So no scenes, all right?

Don't worry about me. I can't hear a thing.

He says you're getting married.

If you do, I'll kill myself.

I swear if you get married, I'll kill myself.

Then kill yourself.

You're wrong to dare me, Jean.

I'll throw myself out the window.

It's upstairs.

Upstairs!

What?

There you are, my friend.

She'd broken both legs, and I thought he'd go mad with remorse.

Whether he sought to make amends or was touched by her lunacy...

he married her.

Since life was over for him, all he could do was work.

- That's the whole story. - You don't say hello?

He never forgave me for interfering, but he was wrong.

He found love, glory, and fortune.

Isn't that happiness?

Still, it's very sad.

But my friend, there's no joy in happiness.