A MAN HAS KILLED ANOTHER.
NOW, BARRICADED IN HIS ROOM,
HE RECALLS THE CIRCUMSTANCES
THAT LED HIM TO MURDER.
DAYBREAK
that caught your interest, huh?
You want details?
Shut your filthy trap!
Look where it all got you.
What about you?
What’s that? Did someone fall?
Did someone –
Someone fell!
Is anyone there?
- What happened? - I don’t know!
- A blind man got killed. - No, it was suicide.
Poor guy. It’s not easy being blind.
Someone fell.
Why did he shoot?
And who’s the dead man?
I’ve never seen him before.
We just found him on the stairs.
Shall we go up?
Let’s go.
Police. Open up.
Leave me the hell alone.
Police! If you don’t open up right now –
No, I won’t open up!
I don’t wanna see you.
Leave me alone.
Just leave me alone. I never want to see anyone ever again.
Open up or –
Beat it or I’ll shoot!
What do we do now?
What the heck’s going on, François?
What kind of man is this François?
Violent? An alcoholic?
There’s no finer man in the building.
No offense, Mr. Gerbois.
None taken. François is a good fellow.
Your good fellow just fired at my officers!
Enough talk. Let’s go upstairs.
I told you that Gerbois was a bad sort.
It wasn’t Gerbois. It was the guy next door to him.
I don’t care. Gerbois is still a bad sort.
Back inside. Everyone out of the hallway.
- Where are you going, ma’am? - I can’t stay in this hotbed of crime.
You’re in no danger.
That’s what you say.
Oh, my spoons!
Don’t get in the way, ma’am.
- My spoons! - To hell with your spoons!
Come with me. Yes, your spoons. I know.
"Police. Open up."
How would they understand?
You just do it and that’s it.
Talking to yourself now?
You’re in sad shape.
to think just yesterday...
Flowers! How nice. To celebrate my name day?
You mean your name is François?
Did you figure that out all by yourself?
It wasn’t hard. My name is Françoise.
No kidding. Then we’re both celebrating today.
- So who are they for? - Not us.
I’m supposed to deliver them, but I got lost.
Delivering them to whom?
A customer of ours. Madame Legardier.
You really did get lost. She’s the assistant manager’s wife.
You won’t find her around here.
I’ll show you where to find her.
Go straight ahead.
See that hangar? Turn left just past that.
Keep going and you’ll see a pretty house with a garden.
I see.
You still here?
You’ll put down roots!
You look cute holding those. Like a little tree.
Did our work catch your eye?
Nice job, huh?
Well, a job is freedom. Health, even.
You couldn’t dream of a healthier life.
We drink milk all day long.
Want some?
No, thanks. I don’t much care for milk.
Me neither, but you gotta drink it.
I drink milk too.
He’ll drink milk when cows eat grapes.
To your health.
You work around here?
- Where? - For the Briquets.
- The Briquets? - The florists.
Are they your parents?
I have no parents. I was an orphan.
Incredible. I was an orphan too.
That’s funny!
Both named after St. Francis, and neither has any family.
And today happens to be our name day.
I told you: This is one healthy place.
Your breath’s so fresh.
Come out for a stroll?
- Not tonight. - Why not?
Come in, but don’t make noise. Everyone’s asleep.
I can come in? You won’t bite?
I’m not that wild.
What do you think about when you kiss me?
You know very well, so why ask?
François, we haven’t known each other long enough.
What do you mean?
It’s been three weeks. That’s 21 days.
That’s almost a month, and a month’s a long time.
Especially when I like you so much.
We should get married and throw a party.
Married? You can be so silly sometimes.
We’d have kids.
A whole slew of kids – and send ’em all to an orphanage.
I’m just kidding.
I really am crazy about you.
I’d marry you in a minute.
The iron!
It’s funny, the two of us here,
and everyone else asleep.
Yeah.
As if the whole world had died.
You know, that wouldn’t be so bad –
you and me the only two left alive.
That would be nice... maybe.
They say lovers are more alive than other people.
You think that’s true?
No idea.
You shouldn’t smoke. It makes you cough.
It’s not this. It’s the sand at the factory.
All done.
Pretty, isn’t it?
I’m going to attach it to my dress.
Wait there a minute. I’ll call you.
You should have told me. I’d have worn evening dress.
Your manners are a bit rusty.
You don’t leave guests waiting in the kitchen.
And I don’t like being left alone.
I’m coming in, ready or not.
You can come in. I wasn’t too long, was I?
You making yourself pretty for me?
You’ve got a nice place.
Not too big, but nice and cozy.
The bed...
is kinda narrow.
It’s big enough for me.
For you, sure.
That’s a picture of me. Several, in fact.
Nice to see you’ve got me stuck there.
A familiar face in a strange house
makes you feel more at home.
Who’s this?
That’s Bolop. I’ve had him since I was a kid.
He’s missing an ear, but he seems like a nice guy.
He looks like you.
There is a resemblance.
See? He’s like you.
One eye is happy while the other is a bit sad.
You’re right.
One of my eyes is happy, the other sad.
How’d you notice that? - I just looked.
Funny.
You collect postcards?
Monte Carlo. Villefranche-sur-Mer.
Nice.
"The English Promenade" in Nice.
I’ve heard it’s really swell there.
For ten francs you can sit and watch the English walk by.
Why do you laugh? The Riviera is beautiful.
You been there?
No, but I’ve heard a lot about it.
There are huge red rocks, and the ocean,
and casinos all along the shore.
Casinos.
There’s always sunshine and flowers, even in winter.
Mimosas.
Casinos and mimosas. You make me laugh.
That’s all just a pipe dream.
Maybe so.
But some days are so sad here.
That’s because you live alone.
If you lived with me, you’d see.
You’re sweet.
Of course I am. Are you kidding?
When I get a few francs I’ll buy you a bike,
and when the weather’s nice at Easter, we’ll go pick lilacs, okay?
Lilacs?
- What’s wrong? - Just pricked my finger.
Let me see.
It’s nothing.
Listen.
How about I spend the night?
I’ll leave early in the morning. No one will see me.
- Not tonight. - Why? Don’t you like me?
Yes, but I promised to meet someone.
At this hour?
They let you go out this late?
Everyone’s asleep.
It’s just me looking after the house anyway.
- So much for looking after it. - You’re not jealous, are you?
Of course not.
You’re free.
I’m free. We’re both free.
Well, then...
good night.
Let me know when you feel like seeing me again.
I’ll take him with me. - No, you can’t.
Why not?
It’s something to show for the evening.
the sand is blazing hot but what do they care
the sun burns in the sky but they never despair
Fatigue and thirst assail them But tempers never flare
they march through the desert their song rings in the air
Hearts of gold but tough as nails that’s our legionnaires
they march with heavy load through desert lands somewhere
there they go, our legionnaires
they sing and laugh without a care
Our daring legionnaires
- Very funny. - Serves you right.
Waltz for us.
That Valentin is a clever one.
You won’t find a better trainer.
He was here three months ago.
His partner Clara’s not bad either, in a different way.
I swear...
women are fools, and I’m the queen of the bunch.
Three years with a guy like that – you gotta have bats in your belfry.
Are you done airing your dirty laundry?
My dirty laundry?
You walk up and unload the whole story.
What am I supposed to do about it?
Don’t be mad. I was just thinking out loud.
I’m so happy tonight. You can’t imagine.
Free again – what a wonderful feeling.
But your manners aren’t the best either. You could buy me a drink.
- What would you like? - Just kidding.
I’m celebrating tonight. It’s on me.
You couldn’t know, of course,
but that man has a silver tongue.
And the way he moves his hands when he talks.
The words just trip off his tongue.
He can tell you anything and you believe it.
The Riviera, for example.
He just says the words and you’re up to your neck in the water.
That’s how he got me... all that talk about mimosas.
Mimosas?
What’s wrong?
Nothing.
You could say something nice. Something tender.
You want me to say you’re pretty?
I can’t tell under all that makeup.
I always take it off before I go to bed.
A woman who’s suddenly regained her freedom
doesn’t often run into a man she likes.
Are your eyes blue?
It’s very soothing.
And at least you don’t talk much.
Am I supposed to say I love you?
Well, then?
I’m fed up with men who ramble on about love.
They talk so much they forget about making love.
I’m not that easily distracted.
What are you doing? You gonna just walk away?
Listen...
I can’t see you home. I have to see someone.
I’m a big girl. I can get home on my own.
Are you angry?
It’s just a waste of my evening.
What’s one evening matter at your age?
Go on home like a good girl. I’ll come by tomorrow morning.
See you tomorrow.
Listen, Clara,
I love a good joke, but not at my expense.
Walking off the job like that! - The job?
You make me laugh. There’s no more job.
No more dogs, no more trips.
I’m getting off your bicycle built for two.
We’re leaving tomorrow.
Easy there. The lady’s with me.
- For the moment. - Not at all.
We’re gonna stay together forever, right?
What’s your name? Mine’s Clara.
- You’re being ridiculous! - No, you are!
And rude to boot.
I find a good kick in the ass works well with rude people.
If you think vulgarity is the way to settle things, my good man...
"Ship schedules.
Boulogne:
The Veendam arrives from New York on the 6th.
The Noordam arrives from New York on the 13th."
"Ship schedules."
Ship schedules.
It’s all so sad, Mr. Gerbois.
He greeted me so nicely on his way in earlier.
He even pet the cat.
The cat.
I wonder what he’s doing now all alone up there.
It can’t be pleasant. - No, I’m sure it’s not.
And with this cold spell.
Where am I gonna sleep?
I can’t afford a hotel.
François!
Stop shooting!
You can’t do this!
He’s not a criminal! He’s just an ordinary man!
You can’t kill him!
He’s pushed an armoire against the door!
That’s all we needed.
Concierge!
What’s that?
Is there an armoire in that room?
What?
I said is there an armoire in that room?
Of course there is.
Is it large?
Large? How should I know?
It’s just a regular armoire.
Just a regular armoire.
Made out of oak.
Just a regular armoire.
Mr. Gerbois, things going well?
All right. We do what we can.
Mr. François, things going well?
All right. We do what we can.
Come in.
You alone?
Silly!
Of course I am. You always leave me here alone.
Come on, it’s Sunday. The Department of Tears is closed.
What’s this?
You’re pretty like that. The unvarnished truth.
I wouldn’t bring up the truth if I were you.
I’ll give you the truth.
No, not this morning. I’m in no mood for truth.
I’m in the mood for love.
Love.
That’s a good one.
Two months I’ve spent gathering mold in this place –
and for what? For whom?
For a brute like you.
I’m a nice brute, aren’t I?
Sure, you’re a nice brute...
who drops in when he feels like it,
now and then, like a tourist seeing the sights.
At least I don’t bring a lot of baggage.
My point exactly.
You should have brought your things over here.
You’ve known all along that wasn’t our deal.
I know.
You made no promises. I made no demands.
But still – - Still what?
- I get bored at night. - Don’t you sleep?
- Yes. - Well, then?
I have nightmares.
I dream you’re not there.
I wake up with a start...
to find you’re really not there, which doesn’t help matters.
If that’s what you call a night of love –
A night of love. You’re crazy.
That stuff’s for books, or for guys with nothing to do,
and even then, who knows?
When you bust your back all day,
the night’s for getting some sleep.
Whereas daytime...
that’s another matter.
Sunday mornings, for instance.
Isn’t it a little bright in here?
The winter sun is gentle.
I prefer a bit of shadow.
Would you look at that!
- What is it? - Come look.
Your dog trainer’s got some timing. What’s he up to?
No good, I’m sure.
I’m sure he’s come to see you.
Me? He’s here about the girl.
I told you not to bring her up again.
Well, you can be sure he will.
He’s taking forever. What’s he doing?
Now there’s a pretty sight.
That’s right.
I listen through keyholes.
I’m not a slave to petty conventions.
Does that shock you?
Strange how people who seem so upright
are the very ones terrified someone might be listening.
You’d think they had something to hide.
Don’t listen or he’ll never stop. He’s got a degree in philosophy.
Yes, I’ve always been very intelligent.
Is that my fault?
I hope I’m not disturbing you terribly.
You seem so happy together.
Oh, I’m not jealous.
I’m a nomad.
Here one day, gone the next.
It’s all the same to me.
And it warms my heart to see this budding happiness.
Let me know when the poetry recital’s over.
What are you doing here?
I don’t know. I was just passing by.
It’s funny.
I’m like a ghost from the past.
Want to see the dogs?
How quickly women forget.
Poor little creatures.
Not women.
I meant the dogs.
Enough about the dogs. Or did you think we’d jump through hoops too?
For a smart guy, you sure don’t get to the point.
What do you want? - He wants to talk to you!
And you want to talk to him too.
Leave and he’ll follow you. It’ll be easier on both of you.
And me too.
I don’t want to hear what either of you has to say.
You know, Clara, I was really hurt when you left.
Is that right?
You’re getting old.
That’s right. You’re getting old.
- You coming? - All right, all right.
Go on in.
- Here? - Yeah.
What’ll it be, gents?
- White wine. - Cognac and water.
Listen, let’s not take all night.
You’ve come about Françoise?
- I actually came yesterday. - Oh, yeah?
I found out a few things.
For example, you’re still seeing the girl.
What the hell do you care?
Fine, be rude. You still owe me an explanation.
- An explanation? - That’s what I said.
I’ve put up with your little affair with Clara.
I could have fought it. I had my ways.
But I let it go... because I’m broad-minded.
Too bad your head’s too small for your broad mind.
You can’t keep things straight.
First it’s Françoise, now it’s Clara. You’re all mixed up.
You’re tired.
Listen, Clara’s free to do as she wishes.
But Françoise –
There’s something you should know. - What’s that?
If I’ve shown an interest in that girl...
it’s because she’s...
my daughter.
Strange as it may seem, it’s a fact.
Françoise is my daughter.
Cognac with water and a white Bordeaux.
She’s an orphan.
You think orphans don’t have parents?
I’ll be honest with you.
I’m just a pitiful man...
and like every man, I have my faults.
Vices, even.
But deep down I’m no worse than any other man.
I’ve made mistakes. I admit that.
And there’s no point blaming her mother.
We had that child when I was young.
I didn’t know what I was doing. "A youthful indiscretion."
A lark.
But you get older...
and you realize it wasn’t a lark...
but a terrible mistake.
And that eats at you.
Idiotic as it may sound, it’s called "remorse."
I could think of nothing else. I searched everywhere.
You can’t imagine how I searched.
I checked and rechecked all the facts.
And when I saw her...
she was the spitting image of her mother.
Her mother was a real beauty, my friend.
Those same eyes, gray one moment, green the next.
That’s some story.
Yes...
it’s some story.
It’s a small world, my friend.
Fate leads you down separate paths,
but the world turns
and you meet again.
So you see, it’s my duty to get involved.
Your duty!
All I want is that young girl’s happiness.
It’s completely understandable.
And frankly...
I don’t think she can be happy with you.
You’re incredible. There’s no other word.
Her father.
Her father’s a real piece of work.
Puts his daughter in storage,
then tiptoes back 20 years later, tears in his eyes.
And for what? To lecture me.
That’s really rich.
Listen here.
I have one thing to say.
I was raised in an orphanage too,
and if my folks showed up now to play patty-cake, I’d let ’em have it.
And why the hell should I care anyway?
I love Françoise. You hear me?
And there’s nothing you can do about it.
You love her?
Does she love you? - None of your business.
Think about it, my friend.
I have a right to know where you two stand.
A right?
You’re getting on my nerves.
What are your intentions?
Stop and think a minute.
Surely you don’t mean to –
I’m responsible for her.
You don’t have a good job.
You have no future. Your work’s killing you.
Admit it: Your job’s a health hazard!
What’s that? What did you say?
You’re lucky you’re her father. Listen to me.
You’re gonna get up and walk out of here quietly.
Make yourself real scarce. You got that?
It’s strange.
We meet every day, yet you live with another woman.
I don’t live with her. You know that.
- It comes to the same thing. - No, it doesn’t.
Do you love Clara?
You know you’re the one I want to live with.
Would you like to live with me?
We’d be happy together.
But you know...
there is something bothering me.
Or someone, I should say.
Someone?
Don’t act surprised. You know who I mean.
That again? You still jealous?
No, it’s not jealousy,
now that I know who he is, but you could have told me.
- Told you what? - That he’s your father.
My father? He’s not my father.
- He’s not? - No.
He has this little habit of telling stories.
Well, that’s some story. What about everything he told me?
The guy’s crazy. What’s he after?
And why do you keep seeing him?
I already told you.
He’s always been very kind to me.
He’s the only one who was ever kind to me before you came along.
He’s always bringing me things and writing to me.
Ah, right. The postcards.
He’s traveled a lot and knows so many things.
He’s never traveled. He doesn’t know a thing.
He’s a lunatic, a liar. I can’t stand him.
Going on and on about "my little girl."
I tell you, guys like that –
If you’d like, I’ll never see him again.
You mean it?
Then I promise never to see Clara again.
But how can you stand a guy who lies like that?
Everyone lies. I’ve lied a time or two.
If I said otherwise, I’d be lying.
I don’t like liars.
Oh, I’m not a real liar.
Of course not. That’s why I love you.
It’s nice here.
Remember what you said? - About what?
How we’d go pick lilacs at Easter.
Ah, yes. Lilacs.
Don’t you have enough flowers here?
But they’re not wild, and this isn’t the countryside,
where it’s sunny and warm.
I love you, you know.
You have a beautiful body,
and you’re fragile
like a small animal.
That first time I saw you holding those flowers,
I suddenly wanted to be happy.
I really do love you.
You’re very sweet to say so.
Sometimes when I’m alone, I think about love too.
I’m happy and I feel like laughing.
Now I hear your words, and it feels nice.
My heart gets all tight, and I feel like crying.
I don’t understand complicated things.
I don’t like to suffer.
You think I do?
We’ll be happy together. You’ll see.
I was never really happy before,
but I was alone and it didn’t matter.
I had nothing but problems,
big and small.
I took the train one day wearing my new cap, and bam – out the window.
And all the rest of it.
Work, no work.
Is there a job I haven’t done? All different, all the same.
Spray painting, lead painting.
Lead painting’s no good, just like the sand gun.
When I couldn’t fight it anymore, I just gave in.
Things went from bad to worse, but I got used to it.
You know, like waiting for a streetcar in the rain.
You try to get on. Ding! It’s full.
Second car, third car – ding, ding!
You’re left standing in the rain
like a sucker.
Anyway...
But now we’re together. Everything’s gonna change.
Will you keep me all to yourself?
Of course.
Do you love me?
Here.
This is for you.
My most prized possession. I’ve carried it with me always.
Do you love me?
Yes, I love you.
There’s nothing to say, nothing to explain.
I knew the moment you walked in
looking like your pet canary just died.
I’m in no mood for humor, Clara.
You think I am?
Anyway, it’s no tragedy.
Good thing we weren’t in love.
Imagine parting if you were in love.
That would be awful.
- You mad at me? - What for?
I’ve been very happy. Sure, I wish it could have lasted,
but I lived here while you lived across the street.
We were too far apart.
Don’t make that face.
I’m not making a face.
Yes, you are.
You’d think I was the one dumping you.
You’re too delicate, too sensitive.
Men! You make me laugh.
What are you gonna do now?
I’ll find another gig. I know people in the business.
I worked with a seal trainer once.
- Are seals nice? - Oh, yes.
And the trainer was nice too... with me.
But he was a real terror with the seals.
So I left him for Valentin.
He was a smooth one, Valentin.
He could train a dog in three days. You know how?
He’d shave a spot on its paw
and burn the skin there with a red-hot iron.
To make him perform, he’d crack the whip on that spot.
Enough about that creep. He’s crazy.
No, he’s not crazy.
He’s just rotten, like a piece of old fruit.
And he knows it.
So he takes it out on others...
like he took it out on me.
Anyway, no use complaining.
You were a breath of fresh air. A little rest cure.
Listen, Clara, I never meant to hurt you.
I hope you’ll have fond memories of me, because I’ll never forget you.
I’d forget you in a heartbeat if I could.
You and your memories.
Think I can make love to memories?
I’ll give you a little memory of my own.
A present to remind you of me.
Here.
- Where’d you get this? - From Valentin. Surprised?
He had a whole supply.
I took ’em just so he’d have to buy more.
Wanna see ’em? Happy to oblige.
Step right up, ladies and gentlemen!
They’re pretty. Made in Italy.
Look here.
Pretty as can be.
He gives one to each of his conquests.
Your little friend has one too, doesn’t she?
What are you looking at?
What are you all staring at?
What’s wrong with him? He’s gone mad!
- Is he gonna jump? - What’s going on?
He’s at the window.
I’m not some freak! What are you waiting for?
Ah, you think I’m gonna jump!
A killer! Now there’s something to gossip about!
Sure, I’m a killer,
but killers are a dime a dozen!
They’re everywhere! Everyone kills!
They just do it quietly, so you don’t see.
It’s like sand – it gets deep inside you!
Beat it, all of you!
Go home and read your newspapers! They’ll print the whole thing!
And you’ll believe it,
’cause the papers know their stuff!
Now beat it before you catch cold!
Leave me alone, you hear me?
I’m not asking for anything! Now leave me alone!
He’s shouting!
Look at her!
François!
I’m tired!
There’s no hope for me now! It’s over, you hear?
Being bullheaded won’t get you anywhere!
Not everyone who kills dies for it.
The police’ll work something out.
There’s a job opening, boys!
A nice little position with overtime!
What are you waiting for? You couldn’t ask for more!
Come down, François! Things will work out!
François? Don’t know the guy!
He doesn’t exist anymore!
Now go away! Leave me the hell alone!
François, we know you! You’re a good man!
- Don’t be bullheaded! - We’ll stand by you!
Come down!
- What do we do? - We have orders to wait.
Go ahead, men.
Is she hurt?
- She fell. Must have hit her head. - She can’t stay here.
Take her up to my room.
Where are you going?
- She’s hurt! - This isn’t a hospital!
What are you doing here?
I have to talk to you alone, man-to-man.
Beat it.
I said beat it. - Not until you’ve heard me out.
I’ve heard enough. Now scram.
- Françoise refuses to see me. - So?
I won’t stand for this. I know it’s your doing.
Then why ask?
I’m not like other men. You can’t hide anything from me.
- You’re a lucky man. - Lucky?
Oh, sure.
The cuckold. The laughingstock.
A real lucky devil.
You and Clara must have had a good laugh!
Well, I don’t care, you hear? I’m not proud.
I demand to know what’s going on with Françoise.
Don’t start that again.
I’m fed up with the indignant father bit.
I was about to go to bed. I slaved all day and I’m tired.
It’s simple: I set the alarm, I sleep,
the alarm rings and it all starts over. So now get out!
Go on! Scram!
- You want me to suffer? - You think I care?
A normal human being would – but you’re not a human being.
- Oh, I’m not? - No, you’re not!
So I told a little fib the other day.
So I’m not her father.
You shocked?
You disgust me.
I’m a man of imagination, a dreamer.
I do exactly as I please.
And I won’t stand – - Will you stand still, for chrissake?
You’re like a rat!
Now stand still, for God’s sake!
Fine. I’m standing still.
It’s funny.
I thought manual laborers had steady nerves.
Shut your mouth.
You’re nervous...
because you’re worried.
And you’re worried because some things are beyond you.
Women are complicated, huh?
Young ladies are such a mystery.
Shut up or I’ll shut you up!
You think you scare me? That’s a laugh!
Go ahead and laugh now!
How about I throw you out the window for a good laugh?
Stop it!
- Let me go! - I’ll let you go, all right!
But it’s too bad.
Stupid dizzy spell.
A dizzy spell!
I always get dizzy.
Clara’s right. I’m getting old.
My nerves are shot.
It’s not so easy to kill a man, is it?
I should know.
I came up here to do just that.
Well?
See?
I meant to kill you.
The idea came to me just like that.
I get a lot of great ideas...
but I never see them through.
I’m pathetic.
A loser. - That’s right.
I could burst into tears any minute.
But I used to be quite a man.
If you’d known me when I was young, you’d have liked me.
I swear, everyone liked me.
I’m sure you were just as rotten as you are now.
Rotten?
Rotten.
Why not? It has its advantages.
You’re not the rotten type.
You’re honest, simple, confident.
Isn’t that right?
Confidence is a beautiful thing.
And so is this.
A nice little piece of jewelry.
A fine present for a young girl.
What are you trying to say?
And what are you trying to find out?
Shut up.
Forget it. Just shut up.
Look what you did.
Funny how simple people have such surprising ideas about women.
Love.
Romance.
Sure, women love you.
It’s nice being loved, isn’t it?
Women don’t love me.
But they find me attractive.
And that’s everything, you know.
So, since she found me attractive...
me and the young girl, we –
How could I resist? I adore youth.
That caught your interest, huh?
You want details?
Shut your filthy trap!
Look where it all got you now.
What about you?
Teargas.
Where is he?
Where have they taken him?
François...
I love you.
Keep still. Try to sleep.
Maybe I was wrong to tell him I loved him.
He changed. He wasn’t the same after that.
Always having to explain.
You understand, François? We love each other.
I have faith.
Don’t knock so loud. She’s burning with fever.
What is it? - They’re gonna use gas.
Gas? They can’t! They’re gonna suffocate him?
- No, it’s teargas. - Teargas?
It’ll burn his eyes, make him cough. It’ll be rough for a minute.
But he’s used to that from all the sand.
Clara.
What does Clara matter?
He doesn’t love Clara.
There’s nothing to say.
It’s not his fault if he doesn’t love her.
I’m the one you love, François.
You mustn’t get excited.
Try to sleep.
I can’t get up.
- Remember what you said? - About what?
How we’d go pick lilacs at Easter.
Ah, yes. Lilacs.