All language subtitles for (Raoul Ruiz 1999) vo subs

T I M E R E G A I N E D

Then, one day,

everything changes.

Things that had been

detestabIe

to you,

that had aIways been banned,

are now aIIowed.

For instance:
May I have some champagne?

Why, certainIy,

if it makes you happy.

You can't beIieve your ears.

You send for everything

that had been most forbidden.

That's why there is something...

rather indecent...

about the unbeIievabIe frivoIity

of the dying.

Dictating is too tiring.

I'II try to write.

You may...

You may bring me

a IittIe hot miIk,
but onIy if it makes you happy.

You know, CeIeste,

if I get through the night,

tomorrow

I'II show the doctors

I'm more than a match for them.

Wait.

There, in the desk.

Thank you.
You may go now.

Don't Ieave me aIone too Iong.

Odette.

Grandmother.

The Verdurins.

Mama.

Papa.

Cottard.

Robert...
Robert de Saint-Loup.

What's he doing here?

Papa again.

RacheI.

GiIberte.

Me.

- DisgracefuI!
- But pretty.

I adore Chopin, don't you?

Oh, yes!

What can we do?
Odette is around.

- Isn't this Beethoven?
- I'm afraid so.

The nerve of her,
just turning up!

She's aged.
Or am I dreaming?

You're dreaming.

She's ravishing.

DarIing! LoveIy to see you!

I'd Iost hope.
How is Monsieur?

You know CharIie.
He's hiIarious!

You missed his Iatest jest.
Beethoven's German dances!

Your son-in-Iaw Ioves Beethoven.

Schumann, actuaIIy.

Of course. I had an awfuI night.
A migraine.

I shouIdn't have read the news
before bed!

You heard about that soIdier
on Ieave?

He returned
onIy to find his house bombed,

his chiIdren dead, his wife crippIed.
It's too much!

So unfair.

I'm babbIing! Some refreshment?

MoreI's gone again.

AIways breezing in and out.

Perhaps I chased him away.

Come! Look at this!

Do come! It's much funnier
than any of your stories!

MarceI?

Once upon a time,
a jealous husband

ordered his innocent wife
to be killed.

She was Genevieve de Brabant.

ln the deep, dark forest
his henchmen took pity on her

and spared her life.

AA few years later, Count Siegfried
found her sleeping in a hollow tree.

Am I disturbing you?
ShouId I stop?

Game's over?

FeeIing bored?

I'm afraid you're too sensitive
to Iook at this.

It takes a reaI soIdier

to Iook such butchery in the eye.

See? I was right.

GiIberte?

Why won't you answer me?

I was short of time that day,
you know.

I'd Iike to have rebuffed you.

ReaIIy? Why?

To make you remember me.

I, for one...

often think
about that sign you made.

Some things you don't forget.

I was tweIve.
It was compIeteIy innocent.

Indecent, you mean!

Whatever did you imagine?

I was onIy saying
how pretty you were.

Did I do wrong?

GiIberte!

MarceI! Come here!

CeIeste?

Are you there?

TeII me the truth.
Are there roses in the house?

Roses? No, sir.

Upon my word.

I beIieve you, but...

Just now when...

Mr. de CharIus came by,
I dozed off.

No one came by.

He may have worn a rose
in his buttonhoIe.

Or thrown it away
on the doorstep.

You know
how a few specks of poIIen...

Mr. de CharIus was wearing no rose.

Do me the pIeasure

of caIIing him
to ask if he threw one away.

AAll day long
in this too countrified house,

which seemed more
like a backwood shelter,

its wallpaper awash with apple trees
in the Japanese style

to hallucinate
the hours you spend in bed,

l spent all day in my bedroom

with its view
of sweet greenery and lilac,

the leaves of the tall trees
down by the shimmering water

and Meseglise Forest.

l enjoyed this view
because l thought

it was so nice to have
all this greenery in my window...

Until, in the vista of green,
l recognized,

etched dark blue in the distance,

the belfry of Combray church.

That beIfry seems
so naturaI and distinguished.

Laugh if you Iike.

It's not cIassicaIIy beautifuI
but I Iike its strange oId face.

If it pIayed the piano,
it wouIdn't pIay crispIy.

I'II be back tomorrow evening.

And gone the day after?

I'm sorry, GiIberte.

I forgot I have to meet
a IocaI man

in Paris.

CouIdn't you...

I don't know...
caII him and say...

Sorry, no.

I'm terribIy sorry.

Do you beIieve me?

FeeI how quick my heart beats.

AbnormaIIy quick.
Because of you.

I hate to see you so sad.

I feeI guiIty.
You can't beIieve how guiIty.

You're overdoing it, Robert.
By far.

GiIberte! Won't you kiss me?

What are you reading?
May I see?

The Goncourts' JournaI.

It's fun.
They write about Papa

and peopIe he knew.

- May I borrow it?
- Take it.

Read it on the train.

I'm keeping that one.

The Girl with Eyes of Gold.

It's very improper!

I know it. It's admirabIe.

You think so?

Those women are jeaIous
onIy of women.

For others, man is the enemy,

the one who brings the wrong caress.

I was miserabIe

when my fiancee Ioved another man.

But not haIf as miserabIe
as if she'd Ioved women.

That fiancee...
Did you Iove her as much as me?

Because you cIaim to have Ioved me.

Perhaps not.
She wasn't your equaI.

But stiII,
I reaIIy Ioved her.

Did she Iove women?

I think so.

I'm not sure.

Here.

You shouId remember her.

AIbertine.

You toId me she was disreputabIe.

I said that?

If I did, you misunderstood.

I was taIking
about fIirting with boys.

And at that age,
nothing much happens.

You know what I think?

We're taIking too much.

And forgetting to eat.

I think that
when you stop Ioving a woman

and see her again,
years Iater...

Between you and her,
there's death.

As if she'd passed away

because your Iove is over.

You mean I'm dead?

I'm onIy thinking

about aII those questions
that once tormented me

but are of no interest to me now.

Such as?

The time I saw you on the Champs
EIysees with a young man.

UnIess it was a young woman.

You have no idea
how sad it made me.

I thought: It's over.

I'II never see her again.

I think I remember.

Don't try to.

It's not worth the effort.

That's what's so awfuI.

Heartbreak...

can kiII...

but Ieaves no trace.

ShaII I say who it was?

PIease pick up the pieces
and throw them away.

Wash them, then put them
in my mahogany box.

AIbertine...

Did you see that man?

At this very moment, Robert is doing
important business with him.

They had a meeting in Paris.

- Did he recognize you?
- I don't know.

Robert doesn't even brief
his cohorts any more.

I'm too tired to confound him.

I'm weary.

Weary of aII these Iies.

It may be my fauIt.

Women who waIIow in their woe
dig their own graves.

I'm mishandIing it.

Has he mentioned this RacheI?

Don't answer.

Robert's your friend, too.

That's not GiIberte's signature.

I teII you it is.

Look. That's an A, not a G.

You're teasing me.

I say what I see.

That's an A.
And that's an N.

It's not.

It is.

Libertinage

He sends a bouquet a night.

It's sweet, but after the twentieth,
you start thinking.

They must be hiding something.

Something fishy.

I'm not one for gossip
but friends say

Robert's a Iiar,
to himseIf and everyone.

But he's a bad Iiar
when you catch him with MoreI.

The Iove in his eyes says it aII.

I don't know...
I can't beIieve it.

What do you think?

Am I crazy to Iove him?

Strawberries in ether!

Like kissing snow.

Did you read Le Figaro?

This week brings more proof
that the arts

are society's
true movers and shakers. Good.

The scandaI...

caused by the performance
of Profanation

is another exampIe
of art's impact on its audience.

How amusing!

- Leaving aIready?
- I'm expected.

May I ask by whom?

An aIgebra cIass.
Didn't I teII you?

- And our dinner?
- Another time.

You know what I'm thinking?

If I ever find out you're unfaithfuI
I'II Ieave you at once.

You must aIways be faithfuI to me.

AbsoIuteIy faithfuI.

Starting here,
where everything starts.

TaIking to yourseIf?

No, to you.

To me?

What were you saying?

That's our secret.
Secrets shouIdn't be repeated.

How was your aIgebra cIass?

I'd rather have been here with you.

CharIie?

Who is this woman?

It's a Iong story.

Someone begged me to find her photo.
She's an actress.

An admirer? A future Iover?

It's a boring story.

I'm counting on you, MarceI.

I know GiIberte trusts you.

You'II teII her better than I
that I stiII Iove her.

There's the other woman, too.

Though I Iove her Iess
than GiIberte.

But she gives
such ampIe proof of her affection.

I'm her first Iove!

Here...

Read this Ietter.

She writes that
she'II never be happy without me.

Before me, she had no one.

No one eIse in her Iife.

GiIberte!

What's she up to?

I feeI I'm intruding.

Not at aII.
We were discussing the BaIkan war.

I suggest you continue over dinner.
It's ready.

Pardon me.
I must have caught a chiII.

Why are you staring at me?

Does my headdress astound you?

Do you Iike it?

It's not at aII you.

If I'm too me,
you don't see me.

Cheer up!
I'm in exceIIent spirits.

Make the most of it.

Come, Iet me show you something.

You remember that mishap?

You were angry for ages.

Now I've done as I shouId.

The cup is fixed,
Iike aII the others.

Reading the Goncourts'Journal
made me feel strangely disturbed.

They wrote about a dinner party

at the Verdurins'house.

Doctor Cottard
and his wife were the

the Polish sculptor Virovski,
Swann the collector,

a grand Russian princess.

Swann said she had shot dead
AArchduke Rudolph.

...Yung Cheng pIates

with their nasturtium borders
and bIuish,

swoIIen iris bIooms.

Dresden pIates,
daintier in their craftsmanship,

their anemic roses turning vioIet.

Sevres pIates, meshed
with the guiIIoche of their fIuting.

And, what is perhaps as rare

is the superb quaIity
of the food served on them.

FineIy simmered deIicacies,

the Iikes of which Parisians,
it must be said,

never find at the grandest dinners.

What a pIeasure it must be

to dine off such fine pIates!

You don't know my husband!

He's singIe-minded.
Pretty things don't interest him.

He'd be happier drinking cider
in a cooI Normandy farmhouse!

You know Normandy?

You Westerners cannot understand

how a writer can penetrate
a woman's innermost depths.

You're a writer yourseIf.
A good one.

You have no idea how successfuI
you'd be in my country.

When my brother died,

every woman in Moscow
wore a bIack ribbon

around her thigh!

About Normandy,
I know EIstir's Iandscapes.

Such deIicate pasteIs...

EIstir? I taught him
aII he knows about fIowers!

He couIdn't teII
an aIthea from a hoIIyhock!

And I taught him
to recognize jasmine.

It's true. Without my wife

that fIower painter,
now haiIed as the best,

couIdn't have painted jasmine.

I taught him fIower arranging.
He had no idea!

How often I'd say, No, EIstir.

No! That's not worth painting!
Paint this.

UnfortunateIy our advice
couIdn't prevent his viIe marriage!

Have you noticed Mrs. Verdurin's
magnificent pearI neckIace?

AdmirabIe, I agree.

BIack pearIs.
They used to be white.

Is that so?

My story of our hostess's pearIs

Ieaves Mr. Goncourt skepticaI.

He's wrong.

A fire bIackened them.

I kept certain jeweIs
in a bronze box.

After the fire, we found the box.

The pearIs inside... were Iike this.

TaIk about bIack magic!

There's more.

The changes sometimes observed
in IifeIess matter

aIso appear in the human brain.

I speak as a doctor.

I myseIf treated
Mrs. Verdurin's vaIet,

who aImost died of shock
in the fire

WeII, it changed him.

His handwriting changed,
but so did his innermost personaIity

As if the fire awoke
the monster in him.

This sober man became a drunkard.

A drunk and a Iiar!
And before, he was...

An absoIute pearI!

We had to dismiss him.

l felt vaguely disturbed.

AAfter all,

l met these people daily.
l often dined with them.

The Verdurins,
the Duke of Guermantes, the Cottards.

l could list every one
of their countless vulgarities.

Their outward charm escaped me.

l couldn't help seeing through it,

as a surgeon sees the cancer
beneath a woman's smooth skin.

l dined out,
but l couldn't see the guests.

For instead, l was X-raying them.

Poor MarceI is not weII.

StiII, he writes day and night.

How many voIumes? Ten?

Hush! Or you'II tire him.

They say he's near the end.

The end of what? You mean...

No, his book!
It's aImost finished.

What wiII he have
to Iive for?

How upsetting!

I'II ask Bontemps to see to it.

Norpois had his articIe
censored again.

AII because he hinted
that Percin wouId be fired!

l was in love, my Lord!
l was in love!

AAnd craved love in return!

That day, l admit,
l took fright.

l thought you loved me no more.

Now l see my error.
You love me still.

These are Egyptian tunics.

Dark, straight...
Very war.

See this jeweIry?

My Iatest inspiration.

Made from shrapneI.

My designs were aII inspired

by respect for our soIdiers.

What do they dream about
in the trenches?

SureIy, more daintiness.

For their dear wives at home.

But no excess,
no mispIaced Iuxury.

Just pretty trifIes
to brighten up these dismaI days.

A great designer has no other way
to heIp the war effort.

We aII share that duty.

WiII you take some tea?
Biscuits?

We'II have to tighten our beIts.

Food, gas, eIectricity...

The Senate passed the Iaw.

Even aduItery costs more!

AduItery?

We passed that Iaw, too.

AduItery now carries a 100-franc
fine pIus a few days in jaiI.

I can't see anyone here
being IiabIe.

Do you recognize him?

It's on the tip of my tongue.
TeII me.

No.

CharIie, pIay us something
suitabIe for twiIight.

Very weII.

StiII no sign of Odette?

No. I don't know why
she's stopped coming.

Maybe she's ruffIed.
I'm not.

How did I upset her?
She met both husbands here.

If she wants to come back,
she's aIways weIcome.

TweIve German Dances for Piano?

Isn't that risky?

A tribute to my friend CharIus.

Why do you hate him so?

Because he's so virtuous.

Bontemps is right.
You're reckIess.

It's true.

That's why I'm enIisting tomorrow.
For the front.

To uphoId my reputation.

Are you joking?

You're more usefuI as a journaIist.

I'm bored.

So what? I'm bored too.

I'd be even more bored
without you.

I'm taking you hostage.

Beethoven!

The nerve of her!
Just turning up!

She's aged.
Or am I dreaming?

You're dreaming.
She's ravishing.

How IoveIy to see you!
I'd Iost hope.

How IoveIy to see you!
I'd Iost hope.

How is Mr. de ForcheviIIe?
BIah, bIah...

I had too much champagne.
It's so good!

I was at TansonviIIe.
This is for you.

She's been through heII.

My GiIberte has gumption!

The Germans don't. They fight weII,
but Iack what I caII gumption.

Any news of Robert?

Her husband, St-Loup?
He speaks Iike a tommy.

He chats with men
from faraway dominions,

fraternizes with officers
and humbIe privates.

I have a soft spot for the EngIish.
They're so fair-pIay!

- Can we go in?
- Sorry, sir.

- Fancy crowd!
- It'II be an aII-night party.

Look, there's CharIus.
With someone.

Mrs. de ForcheviIIe,
I'm afraid we have to cIose.

The curfew's started earIy?

No, it's on time.

I see. We're being kicked out.

May I see you home?

I'II Iet you out the back.

I'd rather waIk aIone.
Do you mind?

No, I quite understand.

Did you hear Cottard is sick?

Everyone says he's overworked.

It's worse than that.

Can we come in?

AIone in the dark?
You Iook Iost.

Mr. de Foix, being Iost
is of minor importance.

The probIem is finding oneseIf.

I'm Iooking for CharIus.

He was here,
dining with someone...

You know how he comes and goes.

Like a ghost.

Or a spy.

You're harsh.

My father's no better.
He keeps tabs on everyone I see.

Isn't that viIe,
given whom he sees?

He and St-Loup
are tarred with the same brush.

They're oId friends,
so it couId be true.

I wouIdn't mind,
if onIy he'd stop Iecturing me.

It's drafty out here. Come...

Come meet my friends.

UnIess young peopIe bore you.

A drink? Liqueur, champagne?

The Grand Duke said,
Everyone must rise for my wife.

The Duchess repIied,

Rise for your wife?

Men used to Iie down
for her grandmother!

The Baron was just here. He can't
be far. He ordered an armagnac.

Youth!

They're ceIebrating de Mericourt's
engagement to Miss d'Ambresac.

He hit the jackpot.
Just in time!

These youngsters Iove
to burn money they don't have.

So they go fortune-hunting.
Swap tips.

Try her. She's ugIy,
but what a dowry!

The dreadfuI things I overhear!

They're ruthIess predators...
but entertaining.

Antoine!
We're dying of thirst!

Coming, Your Grace.

Come. Mr. de CharIus Ioves chatting
with the kitchen boys.

No doubt we'II find him thriving.

Mr. de Foix,

is something Iacking?

As usuaI, but no matter.

You Iook so busy,
I'II do your job.

Keeping warm in here?
Good idea.

Give him a drink.

Look at our game.

The fIags are war zones.

Thank you. Just a sip.

We're studying
German troop movements.

Antoine says we keep screwing up.

I don't.
I say Fritz caIIs aII the shots.

There's some caviar.

No thanks.
I'm Iooking for CharIus.

You missed him.

He saw me and Ieft,
as if I were the deviI.

I'm not a deviI, am I?

No, Your Highness.
Those are the deviIs.

Take a seat.

Have you seen this?
Read it to me pIease.

German-Iovers make merry in Paris,

feasting and partying
despite the war.

Worse, they praise our foes

and wish aIoud
for France's defeat.

I was thinking
that more and more peopIe,

despite seeming perfectIy happy

and drinking exceIIent cocktaiIs,

compIain that
they can't Iast out the war,

that their hearts can't take it,
that they'II drop dead.

And strangeIy enough, they do!

I've noted
many such premature deaths.

Have a drink? An armagnac?

Some hot miIk.

In midsummer? Sheer foIIy!

To each his foIIy.

How is Odette?

StiII crazy about the EngIish?
She'd Iike my brother.

AII this absurd taIk

about the extraordinary
Iack of psychoIogy

that characterizes the German race.

The Cottards, the Cambremers...
Between us,

do you think they ever cared much
about psychoIogy?

Norpois is more subtIe,
I grant you,

though he's been wrong
from the start.

His rabbIe-rousing
newspaper stories...

Do you read them?

Yes, occasionaIIy.

Brichot says that France
shouId be more miIitaristic

whiIe accusing Germany
of being too much so!

He uses the harshest words to
condemn the Germans cuIt of strength

A dragon on its horse!

A beautifuI image, I think.

Don't you?

AII these patriotic journaIists
are so untaIented.

That's why they write such driveI.

They aII speII koIossaI
with a k

but what we bow down to

is truIy coIossaI.

Speaking of Brichot,
have you seen MoreI?

I've heard he wants to see me.
Let him make the first move.

I'm the oIder one.

It's not for me to do it.

He was at Mrs. Verdurin's today.

He pIayed German dances
and nobody noticed!

He's crazy about women.
That's aII he thinks about.

There's the aII-cIear siren.

Doesn't it remind you of Wagner?

WaIkyries shrieking in the night?

The onIy German music
aIIowed since the war began.

In case you didn't know, my dear,

I've been at TansonviIIe
for 2 years now.

I got here when the Germans did.

Everyone tried to dissuade me,
saying I was mad.

But I have one quaIity:
I'm no coward.

Or, if you prefer, I'm IoyaI.

Knowing TansonviIIe was at risk,

I couIdn't Iet our oId steward
defend it aIone.

As a resuIt, I've saved
aImost the entire property,

whiIe nearby estates
were abandoned in panic

and aImost aII destroyed.

I saved not onIy the house

but aIso my dear papa's
beIoved coIIections.

You can't imagine what this war
is Iike, my dear friend.

The importance
of every road, bridge and hiII...

I often think of you

and our waIks,
which you made so deIightfuI,

as we ambIed through this scenery

that now Iies ravaged,

ripped by battIes to capture a road
or hiIItop that you once Ioved,

where we often went together.

WeII,
these pIaces are as famous now

as AusterIitz and VaImy. The battIe
of MesegIise Iasted 8 months.

The Germans Iost 600,000 men.

They razed MesegIise
but faiIed to take it.

That country road you Ioved,

the one we caIIed Hawthorn HiII,

where you say
you feII in Iove with me as a chiId,

though I swear it was I
who feII in Iove with you...

I got your note.
Is it reaIIy that bad?

I think it's the end.

He was deIirious Iast night.

Then...

he came to himseIf, briefIy.

He said he had to get ready.

He'd attended so many deathbeds.
Now it was his turn.

He wanted to Ieave
his papers in order.

Then he said

he'd Iike to see you
one Iast time.

You'd aIways been
a faithfuI friend.

Thank you so much
for coming so fast.

It's Mrs. de ForcheviIIe.

Odette...

Make yourseIf comfortabIe.
It's so hot.

Thank you for coming.

Come here.

CIoser.

Do you know what I'II miss?

Your caresses.

PIease,

one Iast time.

Over there.

The box.

Open it.

It's for you.

Yes...

Make me happy.

The worst is aIways unexpected.

I aIways used to think

the worst that couId happen to me

wouId be that he'd go.

And Ieave me aII aIone.

But I was wrong.

The worst thing

was when I found her Ietters.

He'd been two-timing me for years
with that tramp!

It's good that you feeI so sad.

It proves you Iove stiII him.

FeeIing Iess sad wouId mean
that you're forgetting him.

That you Iove him Iess.

You mustn't think
he didn't Iove you.

When he was unfaithfuI,

he took such pains to hide it

for fear of hurting you.

He respected you.

He preferred you.

My earring!

I've Iost my earring!

I'm gIad to see you.

Me too.
I feeI better aIready.

I'm onIy sorry
you can't stay Ionger.

Here in Paris,
we hardIy feeI the war.

You're a changed man!

I remember you saying

when peopIe refuse to fight,
it's because they don't want to die.

They're just scared.

You said you yourseIf were scared
to return to duty.

I guess you were just being witty.

I remember.
BIoch had just been caIIed up...

I toId them.

I'm no use. BIind as a bat!

What's so funny?

You're safe,
parading around at staff HQ

whiIe pIain privates Iike me

get butchered by BiII.
No thanks!

- I hear Kaiser WiIheIm's sick.
- CaII him BiII.

ExactIy. You're scared to.

You groveI to him aIready.

You'd Iook good at the front,

Iicking Fritz's boots!

You know what you are?

PriviIeged dandies pIaying at war!

Come.

WiII it Iast Iong?

What? No.

I anticipate a very short war.

Read the Armies Act
of October 28th, 1913.

Give me that, and that...
A IittIe pot-pourri.

Read it, you'II see.

There are no pIans
to repIenish the reserves.

That proves the war won't Iast Iong.

If I enIist,
it wiII be for an ideaI.

I agree with my UncIe CharIus.
Effeminacy has no pIace in a man.

The thing that appeaIs to me

is being with brave young men,
far from women.

You understand? I beIieve in...

the mentaI and moraI nobiIity
of manIy friendships.

I'd Iove to risk my Iife
to save my orderIy.

I'd Iove to die inspiring my men
with fanaticaI Iove.

PhiIippe d'OrIeans, a connoisseur
of young men and effeminacy,

- was caIIed Monsieur...
- I know, thanks!

A hero of the Dutch war, right?

But he was a quirk.

This is aII very uninteresting,
MarceI.

You remember the beIIhop at BaIbec?

He wants to join up, as an airman.
I'II see if I can heIp.

- Good journey, sir?
- No.

How's Mr. St-Loup?

Isn't he due for some sea air?

I've no idea.

TeII me, friend.

Between you and me.

I've heard that Mr. St-Loup

appreciates young men

in a particuIar way.

I don't go in for that, sir.

And if it were true,
I wouIdn't say.

I respect the hoteI's guests.

When I caIIed you earIier,
Francoise asked me

to exempt
some butcher's boy she Iikes.

A shy IittIe chap.

She combed Paris for him.

He'd changed butchers.

She wants to save his skin.

What did you teII her?

That I don't exempt anyone.

You haven't eaten a thing.

You'II waste away.

We need manpower!

Some days
I'm too weak to hoId a pen.

Can you see me with a rifIe?

CertainIy not!

You know what I think?

It's hard to create an epic
using words Iike Up and at 'em!

They grate on my ears.

It sounds so affected.
So vuIgar!

Like saying coke
instead of cocain.

The common peopIe, though,

Laborers...

Shopkeepers
who never dreamed of being heroes,

who'd have died of oId age
without knowing...

When you see them run under fire

to rescue a comrade
or a wounded officer

and they're hit, they die smiIing.
You know why?

Because the surgeon toId them
we captured the trench.

Common peopIe are best!

But then again,
everyone's good.

Like young Vaugoubert,
the ambassador's boy.

Wounded 7 times before he died!

Each time he returned aIive,
he Iooked apoIogetic,

as if he'd Iet us down !

Good meat!

Do croissants
stiII ease your migraines?

Every morning
I think of poor Cottard.

I feeI so sad.

He had to write me
a prescription for croissants!

The worId's gone haywire.

To have a croissant baked

you have to puII
aImost as many strings

as to appoint a generaI!

Before I forget...

I've heard you were
with CharIus yesterday.

Are you friends again?

We ran into each other
in the street.

I imagine it was a shock.

What's the attraction?

The strongman or my friend Rene?

Who's Rene?

A draft-dodger Iike you?

Draft-dodger?
Don't sneer at him.

He's very imaginative,
especiaIIy in areas

that interest you.

I'II introduce you.
He couId use the money.

He and I share the same tastes:
an aIIergy to trenches.

You understand.
You aIways backed the weak.

We're weak. You used to say

you never read the IegaI pages,
out of sympathy

for the condemned man's agony.

I don't, but I sometimes
read your fiIthy articIes.

They're onIy a pastime.

CharIie...

- What do you want?
- To spend the evening with you.

- Evening and night?
- Yes.

Sorry.
I have better pIans.

Coming, Rene?

CharIie!

Look out.
I'II get even!

I aImost forgot!

It's time.

VinteuiI's septet.

Good evening.

You, here?

I couId say the same.

I have my reasons.
You too, no doubt.

Did you see that man?
Was it Saint-Loup?

- Why not?
- What's so funny?

I'm sure you know
he's been impIicated

in a spy scandaI.

- WrongIy.
- I know.

It's a respectabIe house,
to that extent.

My own father frequented it.

Spying on your own father?
Is he in there?

He's dead.

He died in there.

What can we do?
When it's our turn, we'II go.

To sIaughter? Not me.

I'm 22. Six months as a nurse there
was enough. FaceIess patients.

My Iast one had no jaw,
no nose, no mouth. Nothing!

Just a big hoIe.
And the stench!

MeanwhiIe Joffre sIeeps around!

I read they have no more zeppeIins.

Oh yeah?
I shot down five aIready!

The papers are paid to teII Iies.

Excuse me.

I'd Iike a room.

I don't know whom to ask.

Ask the boss.
He's gone to buy chains.

I think room 43 is free.
One night?

No, just a few hours' rest.

I came in from the air raid.

They bombed La ViIIette.

I'm very thirsty.
May I have a drop of cassis ?

We'II send it up.

Anything eIse?
Take your pick.

I'II go with you.

Who's he?

Is there a Canadian airman here?

French.

No good.

The cIient wants the accent.

Take that, scum!

Maurice? I assure you, Baron.
He's a genuine thug.

ReaIIy?
You surprise me.

He's had many convictions
for theft and burgIary.

He's been in jaiI.
He's dangerous.

Maybe so, Jupien,
but I don't feeI it.

He says scum Iike a schooIboy
reciting by rote.

Nobody taught him.

I find him much too gentIe.

GentIe is not why I come here.

GentIe? He was wanted
for kiIIing a concierge!

Now you're taIking!

There's the man
from the sIaughterhouse.

He can kiII an ox with one finger.
Guaranteed iIIiterate.

A Senator tried him two days ago.

He spoke about him to Mr. Lebrun.

Mr. Lebrun is actuaIIy
the Russian Grand Duke.

Don't bother, Jupien.
I want boys Iike Maurice.

He has the right approach,

but I want more authenticity.

Find someone.

Is my driver waiting?

Of course.

But the raid's not over.

He didn't hesitate one second.

He chose to die.

To save his orderIy's Iife?

The rich aren't aII bad.

I'd happiIy die for guys Iike that.

They're the tops.
Poor stiffs Iike us

have nothing to Iose.
A gentIeman with servants

who couId be home drinking
cocktaiIs, that's reaI cIass.

God shouIdn't Iet the rich die.
The workers need them.

For one of them kiIIed,
every German shouId die.

Finished aIready?

That was short.

Short for a waIk in the park.

Long if you're swinging a whip
in this heat.

Good thing he pays weII.

He's educated too,
you can teII.

Damn it.
He's insane!

- Who is?
- The oId man in 27.

He's never satisfied.

Thugs bore him, soIdiers too.
Now he wants a crippIe.

But not a veteran.
He hates that.

A crippIe who wasn't wounded at war?
There's no such thing!

Not that chair!

Get up, get up!

The Prince de Foix died
in that chair. Nobody sits there.

Put the roses on it.

Hide, before the Baron sees you.

Hide!

Get up.

The Baron's coming.

You're disgusting.

I saw you at the OIympia
with two tickets.

Making extra money
behind my back?

No, sir.

How sweet. You say it so weII.
It aImost sounds true.

Who cares if it's true or not,

as Iong as I beIieve it?

Think about me in the trenches.
Is it heII?

Sometimes, when the sheIIs
come cIose. But we have no choice.

We'II fight to the end.

To the end.
But to the end of what?

I don't think I know this charming,

deIicious young man.

I'm charmed, sir.
DeIighted to meet you.

I'II send it to my parents
and to my brother,

at the front.

How awfuI.

He's a decent guy, for a baron.

He has a miIIion a day to spend.

PIease don't take it badIy.

The same room tomorrow.
11 o'cIock in the morning.

Yes, sir.

Maurice! Louis!
You're wanted in room 23.

Look what I found in 35.

What is it?

A Croix de Guerre. Thanks!
Where was it?

Room 35.
I think I know whose it is.

Hurry, he's important.
Don't keep him waiting.

I'II see you out.

What's he doing here?

I'm Ieaving.

I can't beIieve it!

I won't be back.
It's scandaIous.

ScandaIous!

Goodbye!

I onIy bring one thing:
my mother's photo.

You're right.

You onIy have one mother.

One thing's for sure.
Since these raids began,

I've found the way of the Lord.

A few more raids,
and you'II be an aIcohoIic.

Francoise!
What's upset you so?

We thought you were dead!

Didn't we?

The idea was discussed.

The bombs feII cIose tonight.

Guess who fetched us
from the ceIIar. Mr. de Saint-Loup!

What a character!

Ordering me around

Iike I was his sergeant!
Wasn't he?

He swore he'd Ieft his cross here.

His Croix de Guerre.

You wonder how he won it.

If you ask me,
rich peopIe Iike him

sit pretty
whiIe the rest get kiIIed.

AIso, he has a nerve

teIIing us
how brave the Germans are.

Which side is he on?

So what did you do?
Don't say he stayed in the ceIIar!

l'd love to hear Morel
play this sonata.

Can l meet him one day?

ShaII I warm up some food?

No thank you.
You may go to bed.

Guess what Mr. de St-Loup said.

Fritz is waiting
for the pear to drop.

It's true.
That day, there'II be no mercy.

HoIy Mary! The invadement
of BeIgium was bad enough.

Poor, defendIess IittIe country.

What about the medaI?
Did you go up and get it?

Yes. We risked our Iives.
For nothing!

Not even a tip.

CharIus came by.
He Ieft a note.

Morel is hiding at 25 AAvenue
du Bois. l dare not go myself.

PIease foIIow me.

It's here.

He's coming.

Who toId you I was here?

Odette.
She's worried about you.

You're joking.
Odette doesn't worry about anyone.

So?

So I wanted to taIk to you.

It's smaII and uncomfortabIe here.
Have a seat.

WeIcome to my hideout.

The poIice are after me.

I'm wanted.

As a deserter.

Who turned me in?

Any idea?

I don't want to die in ignorance

in front of the firing squad.

I won't stay Iong.

It can't have been CharIus.
You know it.

He hasn't got it in him.

- I didn't suspect him.
- So?

Maybe it's time
to end your quarreI.

He's oId.

He may die soon.

It's time to make peace.

It's aII the more absurd
because he stiII Ioves you.

He's stiII wiIIing to heIp you.

You're wasting your time.

TeII me why you won't make peace.

Are you too Iazy? Too mean?
Too virtuous? Too vain?

Nothing of the sort.

I don't care about virtue.

Meanness?

No, I've begun to pity myseIf.
Vanity is pointIess.

As for being Iazy...

I'm Iike a caged animaI.

The truth is...

I'm a fooI to teII you.
The truth is, I'm scared.

I'm scared of him.

I don't understand.
You know he's a good man.

Yes, I know.
I know aII that.

So considerate, so upright...
I know. I'm ashamed to say it,

but I'm scared.

PIease go now.
Leave me aIone.

Every day of our battIe
against the invader

is written in history.

In the dark trenches,
in the Iine of fire,

when victory is at stake,
the names of commanders

become one with those
of the humbIest soIdiers.

Marquis Robert de Saint-Loup
died on the fieId of honor.

That he gave his Iife is enough

to make him great.

But that he did so
to protect his men

makes him a hero.

Mentioned in dispatches,

awarded the Croix de Guerre,
Robert de Saint-Loup...

The Marquise de ViIIeparisis!
I thought she was in Paris.

My dear friend... What a surprise!
I thought you were in Paris.

Aren't you're the son
of the Minister's secretary?

This is Robert de Saint-Loup.

And my nephew,
Baron de Guermantes.

My goodness!
What am I saying?

I caIIed you Baron de Guermantes!

PIease meet...
Baron de CharIus.

What did you do today?

I must show you the sweet shop
that just opened.

I'II waIk with you a bit.

TeII me...

Did Madame say your uncIe CharIus
is a Guermantes?

Yes, she did.

He's PaIamede de Guermantes.

The Guermantes of Combray,

descendants of Genevieve de Brabant?

AbsoIuteIy.

CharIus adores heraIdry.

He says that our motto,
our cri de guerre,

which is now Passavant,
used to be Combraysis.

CharIus' brother
owns the chateau at Combray.

If you Iike,
I'II introduce you again.

After supper
is the time he reIishes most.

UncIe CharIus is a night owI.

Isn't that Robert de Saint-Loup?

Where?

There.

I can't see anyone.

Come...

Combraysis!

Poor woman.

She must have cried so
after her son's death.

They didn't even Iet her see him.

Mind you...
just as weII, perhaps.

I hear his nose was spIit in two.
CompIeteIy defaced...

Look who's coming.

What a nerve!

Here comes my favorite vioIinist.

He Iooks as grim... as death!

Where have you been?
I was worried!

I missed the action.
Don't worry about me.

I have company.
They were waiting at the station.

I'm a ceIebrity now.
They'II aII Iap it up.

Mr. MoreI...

your presence here...

I won't be staying Iong.

CharIie...

Thank you for coming.

We can't Iet them do this!

We have to do something!

Where's Odette?
She's friends with the GeneraI.

I'd Iike a IittIe pick-me-up.

Come, Oriane...

The new sanitarium
to which l withdrew

did me no more good than the first.

The war was over.

On the train back to Paris,

the thought of my lack
of literary talent,

which l'd recognized while
skimming the Goncourts'Journal,

the thought of the vanity
and falsehood of literature

struck me afresh,
more painfully than ever before.

- How are you?
- WeII.

The Baron wants to see you.

Mr. de CharIus...

How are you?

Better,
but don't mention his iIIness.

You're stiII aIive.
Thank God.

Because my famiIy...

My famiIy...

His famiIy is nearIy extinct.

The newspapers.

Antoine de Mouchy... dead.

CharIes Swann... dead.

AdaIbert de Montmorency... dead.

Boson de TaIIeyrand... dead.

Sosthene de DoudeauviIIe... dead.

That's Mrs. de Saint-Euverte.
You hate her.

Mrs. de Saint-Euverte!

I'm not deaf, Jupien.

Now I've made someone happy,
for a few minutes.

He thinks I'm Iosing my mind.
I am not.

You see that advertisement?

There was the same one
at Avranches...

No...

at BaIbec.

When I met you for the first time.

Do you remember?

MarceI!

Your grandmother Iooks fIustered.

But we don't care about oId grandma.
Do we, IittIe rascaI?

Pardon me, sir?
I adore her!

Sir, you're stiII young.

Use your youth to Iearn two things.

First, refrain
from dispIaying emotions

that are best Ieft unspoken.

Second, don't rush
into answering questions

before you've understood them.

If you take these precautions,

you wiII be saved

from bIurting out nonsense

as if you were deaf.

You Iook siIIy enough aIready

with anchors embroidered
on your swimsuit.

I toId you you'd be coId.

Your Iips are purpIe!

You're shivering.

The Princess de Guermantes insists.
No entry during the concert.

I'II show you to the Iibrary.

I'II bring you some cakes and tea.

Tea?

MiIk?

No thank you.

- Sugar?
- One.

That day, the signs
which lessened my discouragement

and restored my faith in writing
seemed to multiply around me.

lf memory,
thanks to the act of forgetting,

offers no bridge
from itself to the present,

it allows us to breathe a new air.

New, because
we've breathed it before.

Poets tried vainly
to situate this air in paradise,

but true paradises
are those we have lost.

This meant that
my fear of my own death

stopped as soon as l recalled
the taste of the madeleine.

AAt that moment, the person
l had been became extra-temporal.

That person existed outside
of activity, of immediate enjoyment,

each time the miracle of analogy
made me escape from the present.

l felt no pleasure at Balbec,

or when l lived with AAlbertine.

l felt it only after the fact.

l had to interpret sensations

like signs of laws and ideas,

trying to think,

to pull what l'd once felt
out from the shadows,

to convert it
into its spiritual equivalent.

The only means of doing so

was to create a work of art.

Why is MarceI crying so?

Even he doesn't know.
He's keyed up.

Prepare the big bed for me.
I'II sIeep in here.

My IittIe ninny makes Mama
as siIIy as he.

Since neither of us is tired,
Iet's not get keyed up.

Let's do something.

WiII it spoiI your fun

if I give you the books
Grandmother bought for your birthday?

Are you sure?

It wiII mean
you get nothing tomorrow.

We were waIking home
in the moonIight

which cast a siIver gIow
on the dark country paths.

It was an autumn evening,
miId and sIightIy misty.

We couIdn't heIp noticing
the sound of the air

and something eerie
which hovers over nature...

The first piece is over.
May I see you in?

How nice to see you,

my oIdest friend!

This reminds me of the year

I first visited
the Princess de Guermantes.

I feared I was unweIcome
and wouId be turned away.

You were wearing a red dress
and red shoes.

My God...
AII that was so Iong ago.

Those were the dresses
we wore back then.

Maybe they'II come back. Fashions
do - cIothes, music, painting.

But you, dear friend, don't change.
Not one white hair.

You Iook as young as ever.

I thought I just saw MoreI.

I doubt it.

He'd have greeted me.

Is he reaIIy invited?

What a question!
MoreI is now highIy respected.

The Princess is fond of him.

What's troubIing you?

Nothing...

I didn't recognize that man...

I was toId it's Mr. d'Argencourt.

Rather... what's Ieft of him.

You're referring to the triaI?

CharIus and d'Argencourt
were convicted.

The court deferred
to the high moraI standards

of our friend MoreI.

But reIax. If d'Argencourt
shouId bump into MoreI,

he'II greet him Iike an oId friend.

So oId...
that he won't remember him!

If you come across GiIberte,
avoid her.

She's a tramp who never Ioved
her husband. She Iiked the status,

the name, being my niece,
and rising from her sIime.

AII she wants now
is to sink back into it.

It's aIways pained me
because of poor Robert.

He was no hawk,
but he saw things cIearIy.

A great many things!

I have no proof of her infideIity,

but rumors abounded.
That's why Robert enIisted.

The war deIivered him
from his sorrow.

If you ask me, he wasn't kiIIed.
He got himseIf kiIIed.

My dear friend.

OId chap...
How good to see you.

You Iook fit for a dying man.

PIease meet Mrs. de Farcy.

She's American.
So witty and ever so eIegant!

Stop it, Jacques.
You'II make me bIush!

Jacques?

I changed my name.

You didn't know?
I'm Jacques du Rozier now.

- Why change AIbert?
- AIbert BIoch is over.

You don't read the papers.
I wrote an articIe

for which I've received much praise.

But teII me...
Since you know everyone here...

I'd Iike to meet
the Prince de Guermantes.

ReaIIy? You know everyone?

A reaI sociaI butterfIy.

This is aII untrue.
AIIow me...

Prince? Excuse me...

Prince?

This is my friend AIbert.

Jacques... Jacques du Rozier.

I've heard a Iot about you.

And your Iate father,
SoIomon BIoch.

Isn't that so?

Yes. Indeed.

Excuse me, I'm a IittIe...
What's the word?

A IittIe new to this society.

My husband, Count de Farcy,
is reIated to the ForcheviIIes.

It's a very grand famiIy, isn't it?

I made a note
that Mrs. de Saint-Loup

is reIated to the Prince
de Guermantes by the ForcheviIIes.

You noted wrong.
It's a very big mistake.

I toId it to a Iady
who repeated it to a man...

- It's of no importance.
- The Duchess...

Do you recognize me?

Cambremer.

The Marquis de Cambremer.

Excuse me.
Of course I recognize you.

I heard you were aiIing.

The same troubIe breathing?

It hasn't hindered your Iongevity.

It's Iike this deadIy fIu epidemic.

It seems that its victims
are mostIy young.

We're stiII safe.

We stiII have...
a IittIe time before us, don't we?

Montesquiou!

The concert wiII now begin.

I pIay it badIy.

No. Keep pIaying.

I'd Iike to hear MoreI
pIay this sonata.

Can I meet him one day?

VinteuiI's music is so monotonous.

The same phrases, over and over.

It puts me to sIeep.

If it weren't so Iate, AIbertine,

I'd show you how these key phrases,

which you've begun to recognize
as I do,

the same ones in the sonata,
the septet,

and his other works,

that IittIe music
which keeps coming back,

insistentIy,

which you write off as monotonous.

WeII...

in Iiterature,

good Iiterature, that is...

It's Iike a hidden reaIity

reveaIed by a materiaI trace.

Look at the stonecutters
in Thomas Hardy.

They're in Jude the Obscure.

AIso in The WeII-BeIoved.

Remember the stones
the father hews out of the isIand,

coming by boats
to piIe up in the son's workshop.

They become statues.

The paraIIeIs
between The WeII-BeIoved,

in which a man Ioves three women

and A Pair of BIue Eyes

in which a woman Ioves three men...

These paraIIeIs...

You're not Iistening.

Yes, I am.

But I wish I hadn't mentioned MoreI.

That's the reaIity
I read in your face.

What do you see?

A trace of jeaIousy.

Am I right?

Not entireIy wrong.

And a Ietter
Mr. de CharIus opened by mistake.

A Ietter from Lea to MoreI.

Did she teII you about it?

I thought as much.

A rather racy Ietter.
She caIIed MoreI a IittIe bitch.

Nice turns of phrase:

Pretty girIie, you're one of us.

But she said it kindIy.

She read it to you?

Of course she did.

GiIberte was with Lea.

You're saying that to...

Perhaps.

After aII, I wasn't there.

Did she try anything with you?

On rainy days,
her parents sent a carriage.

Once she gave me a ride.

She kissed me.

She even asked if I Iiked women.

I said yes.
Just for the fun of confusing her.

That's aII.

We didn't go any further.

You mistook me for Mama.

I'm starting to Iook Iike her.

I was short of breath.

There are so many peopIe.

The party's a success.

I won't be staying Iong.

I keep thinking about Robert.

I know how you admired him.

I was abIe to grasp
what a superior being he was.

Even now, I'm stiII struck
by his sIightest remarks.

His amazing foresight about the war.

He wasn't wrong...
about the airpIanes.

Remember when he said...

He spoke so beautifuIIy...

Each army
must be a hundred-eyed Argus.

Poetic, isn't it?

But what brings you
to these crowded parties?

You, amid such carnage!

It doesn't fit you.

I'd expect you anywhere except
one of my aunt's big hoopIas.

Because she is my aunt.

Don't teII me you didn't know.

Where have you been?

In my sanitarium.

That bejeweIed thing pecking at her
cake with her new dentures...

Do you recognize her?

The new Princess de Guermantes,
formerIy Sidonie Verdurin.

Virtuosity
can never repIace inspiration.

CharIie!

I'd Iost hope!

So RacheI wiII be reciting Musset?

That was my idea!

AIfred de Musset's Memory
is my favorite poem!

My uncIe was ruined by the war.

The Verdurins' fortune
set him right.

After her husband died,
Mrs. Verdurin

married the Duke de Duras
on his sickbed.

That's how my uncIe,
widower of Princess Hedwige,

married a widow
who'd become a duchess.

Mission accompIished.

She takes herseIf so seriousIy.

And everyone eIse pretends to.

How are you?
Some champagne?

Did GiIberte do
her grieving widow act.

She feeIs no grief at aII.

I'm astounded by her cynicaI
show of indifference.

If she'd Ioved her husband at aII,

how couId she remain so stoic
in the same room

as the woman he'd Ioved desperateIy
for so many years?

But it was you
who invited RacheI.

I wanted to see if she'd come.
And she did.

I'm not her. I haven't forgotten
Robert. I forget no one.

ShaII I teII you what she is?
A pig!

MoreI.

Do you know what I heard
about Mrs. de ForcheviIIe?

She's Iike a rose
that's been pickIed.

- It fits her.
- Champagne?

We have the same idiom.

You obviousIy don't Iike her,

but if I understand correctIy,
you're reIated.

VagueIy... on my husband's side,
but very distantIy.

Strange, how our reIatives
are cIose or distant,

depending on our interest in them.

True, I feeI...
very cIose to Oriane de Guermantes.

So eIegant, so refined.

But when I see that pickIed rose

day and night with the Duke,

I find it...

Odette de Crecy...

Odette de ForcheviIIe
with the Duke de Guermantes?

What? You didn't know?
AII of Paris does!

The Duke even had to resign
from the Jockey CIub!

He's Iost his mind.
He's seniIe!

They say he tyrannizes her.
If he couId,

he'd make her his captive.

And the Duchess?

The Duchess, my friend Oriane,
is above reproach.

She suffers, of course.
Suffers in siIence.

And aII the more because
peopIe say she has affairs!

My friend! How are you?

On the score, it said:
AIIegro ma non troppo.

FIuid...

TaIk about fIuidity!

I must see you.
It's important.

Of course...

We'II group up!

I said we'II group up!

Did you see the musician?

Such youth! So interesting!
Do you know her?

Here she is!

You were wonderfuI!

I Iistened...

Excuse me.

My dear, I'm sorry.
My mind was...

AII these peopIe,
these new faces...

One feeIs a bit Iost.
Like in the fog.

I hear you've been iII.
You do Iook a bit paIe.

Go back to BaIbec. It's so bracing.
Have you seen my GiIberte?

I do Iove my daughter.

Without her I'd be Iost.

Why are you staring?
Have I changed that much?

If I scuIpted,
you'd be my modeI.

How charming.
You wouIdn't have me pose naked?

You'd be perfect.
An aIIegory of eternaI youth.

ReaIIy?
Are you being sincere?

Come... Come home with me.
This chitter-chatter bores me.

I enjoy it.
You have no party sense, my dear.

From time to time,
it's nice to have fun and forget.

I want to be aIone with you.

Come. Don't be chiIdish.

Sorry. I have better pIans.

Now that I've got you...

Come to one of
my IittIe get-togethers.

Kindred spirits.

I saw you speaking with Aunt Oriane.

WonderfuI as she may be,
she's no inteIIectuaI.

Did you know that
Count de Courvoisier

thought he was the onIy boy
to be attracted to another?

He thought the deviI made him so.

I have no idea about such matters.

If you're Iooking for information,

you shouId Iook eIsewhere.

I'm a soIdier.
No Iess, no more.

You used to be interested
in battIes.

Remember?

You knew aII about
the encircIing of UIm in 1805...

by the BuIgarian wheeIing fIank.

My kind of subject.

As for what you were referring to,
it's Sanskrit to me.

Listen to me.

RacheI is reciting AIbert de Musset.

Come, it's deIicious.

We must taIk.
It's important.

If she's not dead,
why don't they ever come out?

Because they're oId.
At their age, one stays at home.

The Countess d'Arpajon
died after a Iong iIIness.

The Marquise died aII of a sudden,
of a minor aiIment.

Who is this young woman
approaching us so gracefuIIy?

Are you joking?

Robert de St-Loup's daughter.

She Iooks Iike a Guermantes.

AIas, she takes after her mother
and her grandmother.

They're working on

a good marriage
to cement their sociaI standing.

I have to keep him to heeI.

Or eIse he'd Iock me up.
What a tyrant!

I'm aIIowed some parties,
daytime onIy, no baIIs.

I think he's going mad.

It runs in the famiIy. The thought
of his brother scares me.

I don't Iike to be cramped.

That's it.
I adore my freedom.

The great Ioves of my Iife
were aII terribIy jeaIous.

As a writer,
you understand such behavior.

De ForcheviIIe was mediocre.
I require inteIIigence.

But Mr. Swann was...
so profound, so attractive.

Mr. de Breaute. Two wiId years.
HannibaI. We caIIed him BabaI.

Did you know him?

- Another tyrant.
- RacheI's about to recite Musset.

Your uncIe is busy.
Come back Iater.

Come in...

My nephew.

My humbIe respects.

HumbIe respects?
How charming.

He Iooks Iike his mother.

You've onIy seen her photo.

I beg your pardon.

I saw her on the stairs
when you were iII.

Just for a second, but...

It was dark
but I was abIe to admire her.

This young man has her pretty eyes.
And that.

He Iooks most Iike his father.

He has my poor mother's chin.

Some Turkish deIight?

These come from IstanbuI.
I share them with aII my friends.

There's mint, rose,
cedar, and pistachio.

They stick to your teeth.

Don't be a kiIIjoy.

I'm thriIIed to meet your nephew.

I once met your father.

He was so good to me, so sweet.

You shouId get back to work.

I've grown used to the ones
the Grand Duke sends me.

I toId him you were jeaIous.

Take another Turkish deIight,
if you want.

Then get going.

His parents supervise his studies.

He may be the next Victor Hugo.

I adore artists.
They aIone understand women.

Artists and men of exception,
Iike you.

This time, you say goodbye
and you Ieave.

AIready gaIIant. See that?

He has an eye for women.
He gets that from you.

Once you Iearn not to bIush,
you'II be a perfect gentIeman.

If you ever want to stop by for tea,

a cup of tea,
as our EngIish friends say, do.

- Just send me a wire.
- A wire?

A teIegram.

Get going.

You have an EngIish accent.

I'm American.

What wiII you pIay?

Beethoven.

A sitting room for cIose friends.

I'II give you this key.

Give it back Iater.

Mr. Swann has Ieft.

Now Mama can come
and say goodnight.

Do you know this?
It's Victor Hugo.

Grass must grow
and chiIdren must die.

You read Hugo?

You read Francois Ie Champi.
At your age!

I've aIready died severaI times.

I Ioved AIbertine above aII,
then stopped Ioving her.

GiIberte too.
I haven't Ioved her for ages.

Each time I became someone eIse.

You sIowIy grow
indifferent to death.

Reassuring yourseIf?

I'm not scared for myseIf,
but for my book.

I stiII need some time.

WiII you Iet me read it?

It's Mama.

CIose your eyes now.

What wouId you Iike?

Some champagne.

But I have a favor to ask you.

That girI taIking to her friend...
Her Iaugh is vuIgar.

But her siIk bIouse is exquisite.

- A gift, I suppose.
- I don't know.

I'm interested in the cuffs.

See how prettiIy they're foIded up?

I'd Iike to know more
about the embroidery.

Try to get detaiIs.

Is it a bIanket stitch?
Openwork?

Try your best, my friend.

The day the sculptor Salvini died,

he was given,
as all mortals are,

the time to review
every place and moment of his life.

The sculptor refused.

My life has been a series
of extraordinary adventures.

To revisit them
would only make me sadder.

l'd rather use my remaining time

to review my last work,
Divine Nemesis,

otherwise known
as The Triumph of Death.

So it was.

Soon after,
the AAngel of Death returned

to announce the end
of his time of grace.

What a paradox! exclaimed Salvini.

You gave me enough time
to revisit my whole life,

which lasted sixty-three years.

The same length of time

was too short to review
an object l made in 3 months.

ln this work is all of your life

and the life of all men,
the AAngel replied.

To review it
would take an eternity...

SubtitIes:
NigeI PaImer & Andrew Litvack

SubtitIing:
CEDRA PRODUCTIONS