Original subtitles

THE WOMAN WITH RED BOOTS

Heinrich…

Transfer 30000 lire to Zurich.

Block the savings account.

Keep an eye on Wall Street the day after tomorrow.

Buy Sofi-Jet up to 4000.

Sell at 4500.

Any news from Grenoble?

3000 a metre? How many hectares?

Hello! Hello! I can't hear you very well.

Ah… The meeting is postponed till the 20th.

Notify Milan.

I didn't receive Clermanceau's bank statement.

Very well. How's your wife?

And the children?

Yes, everything is fine here.

Goodbye.

There's still time, Monsieur, don't go in.

A least, let me accompany you.

What happened?

- Shall I call a doctor? - Don't bother.

Send the paintings to this address.

Which paintings?

All of all them.

I'll send you a written contract.

We'll buy everything he produces

for the next twenty years.

Feeling better, Monsieur?

A bit.

I didn't sleep a wink last night.

I've told you many times,

don't read in bed.

But you never listen to me.

Hey, what…

I'm surprised you made the trip only for the book fair.

Nowadays we sell books like motorcars.

Now, you wanted to see me…

A new manuscript, Mile LeRoi?

I need money.

As of today, your royalties hardly cover the advance

I already gave you for "Secrets".

The stuff that you are writing isn't… easy…

the public doesn't understand it.

But I'm not doing it on purpose.

It just turns out that way.

I just received a phone call from London…

Someone wants to translate your book.

If you are really in need of money that badly,

why not accept the proposition I made you last year?

Hmm… The forbidden love of the Catholic clergy?

Yes, for example!

I wasn't even baptised.

Damn it!

See you soon.

Hmm… Yes… Check to the king.

For a hundred pesetas I'll show you something.

Do you think I am still curious at my age?

I'm not sure about "curious", but "stingy" - that is quite possible.

Mademoiselle…

Would you do that for me one more time?

Cleber.

Pay!

Gracias, Senor.

Good morning.

Hola.

Would you sell this for one hundred pesetas?

What kind of haggling is that?

I ask because it's all I've got.

In that case, choose a book that costs a hundred.

Pablo!

Hello, M. Villier.

- How are you today? - Fine, thanks.

Tell me, Pablo,

where did you find this book?

Oh, you know how it is…

Books come and they go…

But haven't you anything else by this author?

Francoise LeRoi…

LeRoi…

Maybe that is the only book she ever wrote.

Maybe you can ask around and I'll make inquiries too.

Is it that interesting?

It's kind of logical and yet passionate, if you know what I mean.

Not very well.

Well, let us say it is very feminine.

Okay, now I understand.

Cleber…

Her face changed completely

as soon as she saw that man.

Goodbye, Pablo. Don't forget my book.

Goodbye, M. Villier.

Well, are you buying it or not?

Who is he?

Marc Villier, a director of "Optique", an art magazine…

He lives just across the street.

He's a man who reads too much.

Hey, Mademoiselle, you took my book!

I paid you for it, didn't I?

Are we following her or going home?

We're following! Obviously!

Is there any tea?

Yes, in the kitchen.

I've been at Catherine's.

For five days?

I had to get away.

Jose dropped in and offered me a one-man show in the fall.

- You must be very happy then. - Yes, of course.

What do you think of it?

Not sure.

Look again.

I think it is too photographic.

You said it, I didn't.

Have you found the man of your life?

No, not at Catherine's at any rate!

Oh… I see I have a rival.

You know how it is…

Does Catherine play chess?

No…

Well, what did you do there?

I played alone…

- For five days? - And five nights.

"Dear sir, I realize that my attitude is quite unusual

but one must have the courage of his passions.

I would like to meet you as soon as possible."

Working already?

Your case is hopeless.

You either fall into the grips of dazzling romance,

or yield to the wisdom of bourgeoisie.

The future belongs to those who get up early.

Oh… naive and innocent maiden!

What is the source of that strange power

that I have over all women?

- No, let me go. I must mail a letter. - Silence, Madame, nature speaks.

You better get dressed, you'll catch a cold.

Cleber, the letter.

"…but one must have the courage of his passions.

I would like to meet you as soon as possible.

Would you leave your answer in the column at the pier?"

That must be in the park.

- What about the soap I received? - Not a word.

Just another advertising gimmick. Here.

You're not going to answer that madwoman's letter?

Of course I am.

And I'll wait all night long in the park for my mystery woman.

Come now…

And if she's not crazy?

She won't come now.

"…our first contact should be by correspondence.

Let us continue to write to each other.

After we know each other better, we shall meet, I am sure of it.

Even love is a matter of will.

Dear Mystery Woman,

our first contact should be by correspondence.

Dear Mystery Woman,

even love is a matter of will.

Dear Mystery Woman,

even love is a matter of will."

Reading that letter again?

You must know it by heart!

Yes, but I love what he writes.

And that is enough for you?

You haven't even met him.

There are times when I wish I worked in a grocery store.

"Yes, Madame… That will be all, Madame… Goodbye, Madame."

There would be no more questions.

What questions?

All my life I was plagued with questions.

"Where were you? What are you doing?

What are you thinking of?"

Be a nice girl and tell me.

Your name is Francoise LeRoi, isn't it?

Why did that woman fall out of the window?

Look…

I saw her lose balance and topple over.

Nonsense… One just doesn't fall out like that…

She was washing the windows.

Were you with the woman?

Were you near her step ladder?

What were you doing?

Leave her alone.

What do you expect her to tell you?

She is only a child, a mere child!

Did you hate that maid?

She wouldn't let me stay in the living room to read.

So you pushed her.

I never touched her.

Then why do you feel so guilty?

There were always…

so many strange things in my head.

What were they?

Visions… Very powerful.

I try to describe them when I write, but…

It's difficult, I can't capture them.

And you think that's the solution, bombarding that man with letters?

I want to know him!

Only I am afraid I might hurt him.

I am capable of it, you know.

Even me?

- You didn't write to her? - No.

- But she keeps answering? - Yes.

- To your letters? - Yes.

So you write to her.

She answers, therefore I write to her?

Yes.

I mean, no.

I don't write to her, I've never written to her.

Then who sends the soap?

People receive all sorts of things they've never ordered.

She must think you're dirty.

Sophie, please!

It isn't even good soap.

Now listen.

I don't need anything from anyone.

I don't cheat on you.

I'm not hunting around.

I need neither mistress, nor soap!

By the way, where does she mail her letters?

From a different place every time.

You don't miss a thing.

Mme Villier?

Yes.

How strange life is!

Yesterday I signed an advertising contract with your husband.

I noticed your photograph on his desk.

And today I meet you.

Yes, that is quite a coincidence.

Your husband seems to be rather distressed.

Is there something that troubles him?

No, Monsieur, but…

He is a remarkably intelligent man…

but does he have everything he deserves?

Everything he desires?

There is nothing more paralyzing for a man of talent

than the misery of his private life.

Look, Monsieur, I really don't see why…

Maybe you'll see one day.

Good night.

I'm sorry, I'm terribly late.

Who gave you that neck tie?

Gave me?

Oh, no one.

I spilled some acid on mine at the lab.

So I sent my secretary to buy me another one.

You should congratulate her.

She has such perfect taste.

I saw this tie in a shop window.

I described it to her.

I chose it and I paid for it!

And the invitation for tonight's concert?

Who sent that?

I don't know.

I told you already.

A client.

What difference does it make?

The afternoon mail.

More soap.

I'm Francoise…

I'm the one who invited you here.

I hope you're enjoying it.

What do you want from me?

Why do you write to me?

And why send all that soap?

What soap?

Someone hit me.

What were you doing?

I was with Francoise…

She sent that invitation.

And, then the lights…

It couldn't have been her who hit me.

So now it's Francoise.

Everything went dark

and someone pushed me towards the door.

When the light went on, his wife was standing there.

What exactly did he say to you?

I don't remember, it happened so quickly.

I haven't the strength to go to the other side.

We just talked about soap… I'm sleeping here.

The bottle and glasses, rinse them!

And stop that music!

Good. Get to work.

You must capture everything… see everything.

Fine. Now I want some pictures of her face.

That's enough. Let's go.

You shouldn't have gotten up so early.

My husband is setting out for the hunt.

It is a sight one shouldn't miss.

It's not the first time.

See you tonight.

Aren't you taking a camera?

- What for? - I really don't know.

Memories…

Over here, this way!

Come here, I think I saw something.

This way.

Over here. Come over here.

I think I hit him.

An accident.

Here! Come quickly!

Good evening, Marc.

Sit down.

We have decided to sell your apartment.

We bought it only for our daughter, but…

now that she's gone…

But furthermore, we no longer think it necessary

to keep you on as director of the magazine.

My niece couldn't possibly have a husband hired by others.

We only took you in because you were married.

"Optique" is a family business.

You are no longer a member of the family, Marc.

A boy like you should have no trouble finding another job again.

I have prepared this compensation.

I must have been such a burden to you all these ten years.

He's too afraid to go in.

Cleber… Tune in!

Monsieur?

Is Mademoiselle… Is Francoise here?

Come in.

Francoise…

There's a visitor for you.

So you finally decided to give me your address.

I never understood the game you were playing.

I'm not even sure it is a game.

I'm not sure of anything.

Because of you, my wife is dead.

I came because…

I don't know why I came.

I was angry with you.

I wanted to get even.

But then…

I loved your book.

I like the way you live.

See what your letters have done?

Now please leave me alone.

Goodbye, Monsieur.

Hi Francoise.

Well, what did he want?

What did he say?

He told me he likes this room very much.

Hey, our friend came with a small bottle of vodka.

Well, let's sing… dance… celebrate.

Leave her alone. Can't you see she's crying?

Your call, Monsieur.

Maitre Devalle, please.

It's Monsieur Perrot.

What's that? What does he think?

He is my lawyer only from two to four?

Did you sleep well?

I've made a decision.

I'll stop writing to Marc…

At least for awhile.

Good, you're on the way to recovery.

- Mile Francoise LeRoi, please. - That's me.

I'm Maitre Devalle, a lawyer.

I want to discuss with you a matter that concerns you.

- Oh, excuse me. - No, they're just friends of mine. - In that case…

Won't you sit down?

Thank you.

One of my clients proposes to publish

the story of your life.

Already?

- What do you mean, already? - I'm only 26.

You're a very intelligent but little known writer.

We have a proposed to start a collection,

"New Accents."

How one becomes a writer, a poet or a composer…

That's what my client would like to find out.

And why me?

He read your book. It made a great impression.

So?

100000 pesetas on signing,

100000 on delivery of the manuscript,

10% of royalties

and a house in the countryside where you will write the book.

Why in the countryside?

He's an old gentleman who likes to feel he's in the midst of activity.

Oh, I see.

A housekeeper will be looking after the place, Mademoiselle.

You have nothing to fear.

Is there a phone?

- Why? - In case she needs to call me for help.

There is a telephone.

A change of air will do you good.

Well, do you accept?

Some tea, Maitre?

Yes, very kind of you.

How many lumps?

Four lumps, please.

You're not very talkative, Mile LeRoi.

No.

Leonore will show you to your room.

I'll be down in a minute.

My client will arrive in a couple of days

but would like you to begin your work without waiting for him.

So, you're a writer.

That's the dining room.

Dinner is at 8 PM.

I hope that you won't find it inconvenient.

Absolutely not.

I serve lunch at 1 PM.

Very well.

That's called a music room.

God only knows why.

Probably because of that.

Is the house damp?

Absolutely not.

The paintings are being restored.

Monsieur has made the first move.

He says it's up to you to make the next move.

But I don't know this game.

I suppose you play on all three levels.

Your boss must have a book on it somewhere.

Monsieur doesn't have any books.

- He doesn't read? - Never.

I'll show you to your room.

The room overlooks the park.

A bell will announce the meals.

I don't know if I told you,

but breakfast is served at 9 AM.

He's thought of everything.

Yes.

Monsieur is always very thoughtful of his guests.

The sculpture in the drawing room, where did it come from?

M. Beretti left it behind last year.

M. Beretti?

A sculptor.

He used to work here?

Here, he drank.

Then one night he went away

and we've never seen him since.

Is that all he left?

This house is not a museum, Mademoiselle.

Your name is Leonore, isn't it?

It's the name that my mother gave me.

If that's what you want to know.

You've been working long for M. Perrot?

More than 20 years.

Mademoiselle no longer needs me?

Are you married?

She's not married.

Where do you do your shopping?

I walk down to the village three times a week.

Is it far?

4 kilometres.

The hardest part is walking back.

Well, he should buy you a bicycle.

Monsieur offered me one, but I refused it.

Around here we don't like machines.

Take you, for example.

I just wonder how can you manage to think clearly

when your fingers are busy at that machine?

Have you a secret?

What do you mean?

Well, M. Beretti's secret was red wine.

No red wine, no sculpture.

That's what he told Monsieur.

There are men

whose greatest pleasure

is self-destruction.

I almost forgot to ask you,

do you take tea at 5 PM?

What was M. Beretti like?

I didn't see much of him, I told you.

He was strange, and he had a beard and he was very fat.

- Leonore… - Yes? - I won't be having tea, thank you.

Monsieur.

You have a pillow in your mouth.

But how did Monsieur manage to get this pillow in his mouth?

- But how did Monsieur… - Go back to bed, go on!

Mile LeRoi.

Already working.

Good morning.

Do your working conditions please you?

If there is anything we can improve on, you must tell us.

We've met somewhere before, haven't we?

You're right.

In front of a banknote.

That's it.

It's a very strange coincidence.

I have no fondness for chance.

But is this the case?

I prefer not to say.

You like to play games, though.

Yes… I like games of logic…

that are challenging… competitive.

There is no greater pleasure than winning a game.

And art?

Ah yes.

Art…

Invention, instinct…

and madness.

They say you're a patron of the arts…

That's quite rare nowadays.

Good God… Whoever told you that?

Your lawyer, your housekeeper…

In that case, I must thank you for accepting my invitation.

I know so many creative souls who would have refused.

Who?

Beretti, for example?

Why Beretti?

Who told you about Beretti?

Leonore…

But I might have misunderstood.

I never invited that scrap iron welder.

You know, I don't invite just anybody.

I would like you to be convinced of that.

But I am, Monsieur, quite convinced.

I have a rendezvous in town,

but I'll be back for dinner.

You have a feather on your lips.

She'll never master this game.

It's too difficult.

You're wrong.

Quite wrong.

She's playing.

Good.

All right, let's go.

Monsieur, Leonore is calling.

Leonore, write this down:

My bishop to G5 level three.

Repeat that.

Correct. Go tell that to Mile LeRoi at once.

I thought you came here to write.

You haven't worked very much since your arrival.

Call your boss.

My knight on level 3 to F6 level two.

Your knight level 3 to F6 level two.

And this, please:

Ha!

ONE SHOULD KNOW WHAT EVENT, WHAT MEMORY

OPENS THE STORY OF MY LIFE…

Who can tell me where my life begins?

And what secret

marks the beginning of this story?

The wine is ready?

Yes, Monsieur.

The candles.

Yes, Monsieur.

Cleber… Next summer we're going to Greece.

But we went to Greece last year.

Mile LeRoi.

My congratulations.

You are a formidable opponent at chess.

Are you expecting any guest?

And to block off your attack

I'll take your white bishop with my knight on level 3.

I'll bring up my rook to B7.

Naturally.

Please make yourself at home.

Mile LeRoi, you know Marc Villier.

My new literary editor.

Won't you start serving, Leonore? Sit down, please.

Cleber, the wine.

Chateau Margaux, 1947.

I obtained it myself and highly recommend it.

One day there won't be any of it left, forever.

Here we are accomplices

in the disappearance of a treasure.

What a pleasure to have such distinguished guests!

You're rich enough to satisfy any of your whims.

I told you, I don't believe in chance.

I prefer to take my precautions.

You keep everybody in your grasp.

Everybody?

No, I am not so ambitious.

No, just the people who interest me.

Do you find me interesting?

Very much, Mile LeRoi.

Why?

I thought my lawyer had explained it to you.

To your health.

Leonore, the coffee, please.

It's coming.

Children have no conception of good and evil.

That's why they are so cruel.

That's why it is said that artists are big children.

They wish to preserve desperately their innocence.

Sometimes even until death.

Do you have children?

No, thank heavens.

Come, Cleber.

It is my turn to play.

Mate in seven moves.

I never imagined I'd see you here.

Really?

Yes, really.

Mile LeRoi…

I came here to meet a writer

and discuss the launching of a new novel.

Whatever you say.

I would have refused,

had I known you were that writer.

- But I… - But what?

Well, how are the lovebirds?

Am I neglecting my duties?

Here, taste this Armagnac,

it's over one hundred years old.

What are you waiting for, call Leonore!

To clean this up!

It's more interesting than I imagined.

And more difficult too.

You haven't seen anything yet.

I only ask to see.

What are you talking about?

If you enjoy exciting situations,

you're in for a treat.

Your friend, Richard, arrives tomorrow.

I hope you sleep well, M. Perrot.

Good night.

You must be very tired, M. Villier…

I will accompany you.

You seem very surprised to see her.

But you know her well, don't you?

No, not at all. I mean, barely.

I'm astonished. Your wife spoke at great length about her.

You knew my wife?

Yes, very well.

I'm an old friend of her parents. Didn't you know?

Your wife was sure you were having an affair with Francoise.

Even I was convinced of it.

No.

You're mistaken.

It's true Mile LeRoi is very attractive.

Good night, Monsieur.

Leonore, I also wanted to wish you goodnight.

Leonore!

My love…

What is it?

Your tisane, Monsieur.

Get the hell out!

What happened, did you fall out of bed?

No, I've been up all night. I packed everything and took off.

Did you have a pleasant trip?

Very nice, thank you.

I see there are a lot of pheasants around here.

Tomorrow we are going to roast two or three.

I thought you might enjoy that.

Come in! Make yourself at home.

Why did you come here?

He bought my trompe I'oeil painting.

How are you coming along?

I'll tell you later.

Be careful.

Careful? Of what?

Well, well, is he here too?

We have all three of them now.

There's almost nothing more for me to do.

May I say something, Monsieur?

If it's interesting - yes.

I believe that you'll have more trouble with this girl.

Why do you say that?

An impression.

The more difficult the opponent,

the more beautiful the victory.

Rest assured, Cleber,

I haven't made my last move.

She will fall like the others.

Like all the others.

You might as well give up.

Mate in seven moves.

One…

Two…

Three…

Four…

I might take your queen.

Take it.

Well…

I think I'll go and do some work now.

Am I disturbing you?

Why did you have that friend of hers come here?

Because he interests me too.

But what's the point of this get-together?

What are you driving at?

I haven't the vaguest idea myself.

Come along.

She looks as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.

And yet how beautiful she is!

Close the door.

I'm leaving.

How nice of you to tell me.

Leonore, ring the bell for lunch, right away.

The soap…

So, where are you going to hang your painting?

- Will you join us? - Thank you.

Allow me to raise my glass to the memory of your dear departed wife.

Even if you're starting to forget her.

What do you mean by that?

What are you two up to?

Marc, keep quiet.

It's him you obey.

He ordered you to write to me,

and to sleep with me!

Marc, that's enough!

Let go of me!

Marc!

Marc…

Marc.

What did you do to him?

Answer me?

What did you do to him?

It's her…

- She… - She what?

I don't know.

Go on, Cleber.

What's wrong with Villier?

Is he sick?

Don't you understand you're playing his game?

That's just what he wants.

I don't need him anymore, or you.

Stop meddling in my life!

Leave him alone.

He'll go away.

I'd be surprised.

Come in.

Give me everything you've written.

I haven't corrected it.

It doesn't matter.

Five pages? No more?

- M. Perrot? - Yes.

What did Beretti, the sculptor, die of?

How should I know?

He disappeared without leaving a trace.

I saw him cutting his throat with a piece of metal.

Here, in this very house.

What exactly is the secret of your power?

I don't know.

What are your visions? Tell me!

Can you show me what you want, when you want?

In that case, there's no limit.

You can rule the world.

Maybe.

But you, what game do you play with your money?

That's my business.

You still haven't answered my question, M. Perrot.

What question?

About Beretti's death.

You're right.

He committed suicide.

It's almost ready.

I was there, I saw it.

The explosion was magnificent.

As all explosions are.

In fact, you know very well…

M. Villier?

Excuse me.

Here.

These were among your wife's belongings.

Her parents had them sent to me.

I don't understand.

Aren't you the one who took them?

No.

Your wife couldn't have stolen them from you?

No, never.

I've never seen these pictures.

Someone, however, used them to compromise you.

Francoise…

Don't make a sound. Come on.

How did you know this was here?

I looked around.

What do you see?

Nothing, it went away.

Come on.

Look, it's Beretti!

Shit.

Otto Mayer.

He hung himself 3 or 4 years ago in his studio in New York, remember?

Let's get out of this place.

No, I'm staying.

If you stay, I stay.

You can get me to do anything.

Would you really do anything for me?

Anything except giving up painting.

Sacrificing her queen was a stroke of genius.

But I will pin down her rook.

She'll need time to figure it out.

She'll lose.

On all fronts.

I must thank you.

You've done me a very great service.

In what way?

You have cured me.

Very simply.

If you only knew all the stupid things I've done.

The letters you've received from Marc, for example.

It was I who wrote them.

But why?

I don't know. It is absurd.

It's like those suicidal artists.

I never pushed them to do it, mind you.

I was merely an observer, guiding them.

For what purpose?

The death of art.

I say, what hogwash!

All those years wasted.

Art will die on its own.

It doesn't need me.

Let's forget all that now.

It's a beautiful day, so peaceful in the country.

I adore picnics.

Where's Marc?

He felt like taking a walk, he'll join us soon.

When I was a little child, I would go on just such picnics with my mother.

She wore a magnificent fur coat.

And long gloves with only the tips of her fingers showing.

It was in the Alps.

Above the clouds.

It seemed there was no one else on Earth but us.

It's very important to know how to carve your bird.

To know how to hunt it too,

to wait for it, stalk it, to shoot at the right moment.

Cleber!

Monsieur?

That's thunder, isn't it?

No, Monsieur.

I wonder why Villier hasn't come yet.

Francoise… Wait!

Marc!

Marc!

Marc!

Marc!

It was the old man who wrote those letters.

It was all his doing.

Cleber, help me.

It's all over now.

Let's go.

The three of us?