Original subtitles

A Flirtatious Woman (from Maupassant)

My dear Françoise,

You ask me if I'm happy since my marriage,

yes, very. Jacques and I get along very well.

But I'm very unhappy now, I've just cheated on him.

It wasn't on purpose, but I don't know if I must confess it to him.

I write to ask for your advice.

I'm cruelly punished for my thoughtlessness.

Must I laugh or cry? I don't know anymore.

Don't think that I've taken a lover, no, not at all.

Well, yes, but what could I do?

Here's exactly what happened:

Like each Friday morning, while leaving the office,

Jacques went to his parents' while I went home to cook lunch.

Would there be sun, or rain? How could I know?

The sun was appearing and disappearing behind the clouds,

and I thought of taking the streetcar

when my attention was caught by a woman I saw at her window.

Almost in front of me, on the other side of the road.

She was nothing extraordinary

but she intrigued me, because a smile, very light, very quick

regularly animated her features.

And I wondered

who's the target of this uninterrupted line of smiles?

Suddenly I understood,

she smiled at every man that passed under her window.

Old ones, ugly ones, handsome ones, tall ones, men of all kinds.

As soon as she caught their eye, she made a signal.

But furtive smiles, so sweet,

that they were erased as soon as they started.

Both full of prudishness and infamy.

So discreet and cunning, that they looked innocent at first glance.

And could mean equally, what a beautiful day,

or, come up quick sweetie.

She would repeat this tactful act tirelessly.

Indeed, after a few minutes I saw a man answer that call.

He entered the building. I couldn't believe my eyes.

I wanted to be sure. And started to wait in front of her door.

It wasn't long.

Only 15 minutes, and I saw the man going out, our mermaid open her window

and start the same game again.

Then I went away astounded, asking myself

to what kind of act was I the spectator.

To the bottom of my soul, curiosity and respect were mixed with my indignation.

I was very concerned about what I'd seen.

And the more I thought, the less I could stop myself admiring this woman.

For her skill

as well as her gracious way of practicing this dreadful job.

Then suddenly, I had a crazy idea.

So absurd that it frightened me at first.

The idea of doing the same thing. To throw at the first man I saw,

me too, a smile. Just one.

And to see what'd happen next.

Believe what you want, blame me for flirting.

But I was suddenly anxious to know if I would succeed.

I couldn't get this thought out of my head.

It came back each time more threatening.

I absolutely had to do it.

My heart was pounding. I was ashamed, I confess.

But I was already forgiving myself for my recklessness.

Think about the game, as Jacques said.

Women think that everything they dare is innocent.

I wasn't paying attention. I was lost in my thoughts.

They were lost in my soul like clouds drifting apart by the wind

on a greyish background where the sun was heading.

I realized that all those reflections had brought me to the Rousseau park.

I don't know how, and not far from me, by chance,

and you see that the devil was with me,

I saw a man reading a newspaper.

He didn't look bad.

It didn't matter, the most important thing was to defeat my cowardice.

Yes, I thought to myself, the fate of a coquette is so cruel.

The world sentences her to a freedom that tests their virtue.

Debauching oneself demands a courage that our time excused too much

in the name of prudishness and inattention.

Of love, but never of wisdom.

Acting with flirtatiousness was, to accept the danger of being taken by surprise.

Confident that this adventure wasn't that interesting

and to hide from my favorite husband,

in myself, the fact of making this rash gesture,

the fear of knowing him, my inexperience with men,

the wish to test my honesty,

everything contributed to adopt this frivolous yet inexorable act.

I wondered what kind of smile should I have,

feminine, Iphigenia?

I sat next to him. I was hesitating. I was shaking.

And then, bravely, I did it.

I smiled at him, very quickly, very shyly.

Well, it worked first time.

My stranger came closer while looking at me.

Then I panicked.

I told him that it was a mistake, a bet with myself.

And I ran away but he chased me. He wouldn't hear anything.

He looked like was having lots of fun while I was terrorized.

Panicked, I ran away to escape him. But he followed me by car.

My only chance was to arrive home before him.

Impossible, he came behind me and wanted to kiss me.

I burst into tears.

I begged him to go away, my husband is coming home any minute I said.

But he got angry.

Stop fooling around dear, he said, here's 50 francs, undress.

The only way to get rid of this fool right away, was to give in.

That's what I did, what else could I do?

Here I am cruelly punished of my flirtatiousness.

I write to you my dear Françoise to convince you of my innocence.

Answer me quickly.

Your friend, Agnès.

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