You said, “I love you.” I said, “Wait.”
I was about to say, “Take me.” You said, “Go away.”
It was around 1912.
Jules, a foreigner in Paris, asked Jim, whom he hardly knew,
to get him into the Quatres Arts Ball.
Jim got him an invitation and took him to the costumer's.
As Jules rummaged around for a slave costume,
Jim's friendship for Jules was born.
It grew at the ball as Jules looked on,
his eyes full of gentleness and good humor.
The next day saw their first real conversation. Then they met every day.
Each taught the other his language and culture till the early hours.
They shared their poems and translated them together.
They also shared a relative indifference towards money.
They chatted easily. Neither had ever had such an attentive listener.
Jules had no girls in Paris, and he wanted one.
Jim had several.
He introduced Jules to a musician.
Things started out well. They were in love for about a week.
Then a free and easy girl came along who stayed up all night in cafés.
Next it was a pretty blonde wide w. The three went out together.
She confused Jules, whom she found nice but clumsy.
She brought him a quiet friend - too quiet for Jim's taste.
Finally, against Jim's advice, Jules took up with professionals
but found no satisfaction there.
Let's get to work.
DEATH TO OTHE-
We're out of paint. You little bitch!
Everyone will say anarchists can't spell.
Save me! Merlin's after me!
He's stronger than you! Let's run for it!
Can you put me up for the night? I'm Thérése.
Of course, Thérése.
Not at my place. I'm expected elsewhere.
- Gilberte? - Yes.
- But Jules could - - Who's Jules?
- That's me. - And you?
Jim and Jules, then?
No, Jules and Jim.
What's that?
It's better than a clock.
When all the sand's in the bottom, I must go to sleep.
- You'll sleep here and I'll sleep there. - That's right.
Got any cigarettes? - Of course.
- Are you Jim? - No, Jules.
You're sweet, Jules.
I'll do my steam engine for you.
The sun'll be up in ten minutes.
Jim, you might stay and sleep here with me for once.
No, Gilberte.
If I stay today, I'll feel guilty if I don't stay tomorrow.
If I stayed tomorrow, we'd be as good as married.
Isn't that against our rules? - What logic!
And Judex doesn't like being left alone at home.
Besides, the night is gone, and it's almost dawn.
Just imagine I'm a worker heading off to the factory.
Cad! I know you're going home to sleep until noon.
Over there.
No, no, it was Shakespeare.
No, I know that line -
Jules, give me ten centimes for music.
It was Shakespeare, I assure you.
- You have a cigarette? - Yes, of course.
I like you very much.
Can you put me up for the night? My name's Thérése.
Let her go, Jules.
Lose one, find ten more.
I wasn't in love with Thérése. She was both...
mother and doting daughter at the same time.
I have no luck with Parisian women.
Fortunately there are some girls back home.
I love one of them - Lucie.
I asked for her hand, but she refused.
I've given myself six months before I go see her again.
There's another too - Birgitta.
And yet another - Helga.
I might love her if I didn't love Lucie.
Here's what she looks like.
Jules sketched a woman's face in bold strokes on the round table.
Jim wanted to buy the table,
but the owner would only sell all twelve tables as a set.
Albert?
This is Jim, a French friend.
- I believe we've met before. - Yes, of course.
Sit down.
Jim asked -
Who's Albert?
A friend to painters and sculptors.
He knows everyone who'll be famous in ten years.
This one's more exotic.
She looks like an lncan statue.
This one's more Roman in style.
It's badly weathered because I found it in a garden.
It had been rained on for ages.
This one's very touching.
Reminds you of a decaying face.
It's strange to see stone worked in such a flabby manner.
I like this one very much. It has beautiful lips.
A bit scornful. Beautiful eyes, too.
We'd like to see that last one again, please.
I took a close-up of it too.
The tranquil smile on the crudely sculpted face mesmerized them.
The statue was in an outdoor museum on an Adriatic island.
They set off immediately to see it.
They both had the same light suit made.
They spent an hour by the statue. It exceeded their expectations.
They walked rapidly around it in silence.
They didn't speak of it till the next day. Had they ever met such a smile?
Never.
What if they ever did? They'd follow it.
Jules and Jim returned home, full of this revelation.
Paris took them gently back in.
- ls your book coming along? - Yes, I've done quite a bit.
I think it'll be quite autobiographical.
Our friendship will play a major role in it.
I'd like to read a passage for you. - Please do.
“Jacques and Julien were inseparable.
Julien's last novel had been a success.
He had described, as if in a fairy tale, the women he'd known
before he met Jacques or even Lucienne.
Jacques was proud for Julien's sake.
People called them Don Quixote and Sancho Panza...
and rumors circulated about their unusual friendship.
They ate together in small restaurants,
and each splurged on the best cigars for the other.”
it's quite beautiful.
If you'd allow me, I'd like to translate it into German.
Now let's hit the showers.
My cousin just wrote me.
Some girls are coming to Paris who studied with him in Munich.
A girl from Berlin, one from Holland, and a French girl.
They're coming to dinner tomorrow.
I'm counting on you to join us.
Catherine, the French girl, had the smile of the statue on the island.
Her nose, mouth, chin, and forehead
bore the nobility of a province she personified as a child
in a religious celebration.
It started like a dream.
As the organizer of this gathering,
I propose we abolish forever monsieur, madame, and mademoiselle
by drinking my favorite Nussberger wine in brotherhood.
Instead of linking arms in the usual way,
the feet of all those partaking will touch under the table.
And thus they did. In high spirits, Jules moved his feet away.
Jim's feet stayed a moment near Catherine's,
who gently moved hers away first.
A shy, happy smile played on Jules' lips
and told the others he held them in his heart.
Jules vanished for a month.
He saw Catherine every day on his own.
But the two friends naturally met at the gymnasium.
Very good, Jules.
Why don't you spend the evening with Catherine and me?
Very well.
I've talked so much about you.
Catherine's eager to know you better.
But not this one, Jim, all right?
Hello, Mr. Jim.
You must pronounce his name as in English, with a D in front.
“Zheem” doesn't fit him.
What do you think of our friend Thomas?
Can we be seen in public with him?
Not bad at all. Perhaps just a tiny mustache.
Now for a test in the street.
Excuse me, sir.
Could you give me a light?
Thank you, sir.
Catherine was proud of her successful disguise.
The men were moved,
as if by a symbol they didn't understand.
- Either it's raining or I'm dreaming. - Or both.
If it's raining, let's go to the seashore.
We leave tomorrow.
This track looks excellent. I propose a race.
First one to the end of the bridge.
Ready?
- You cheated, Thomas. - But I won.
Thomas always wins.
He speaks three languages and swims like a fish.
Can he do a handstand?
You can teach him.
Monsieur Jim, would you come help me
take my bags to the station tomorrow?
She's a strange breed.
Her father was an aristocrat. Her mother came from the masses.
He was of an old Burgundian family. She was English.
That's why she's ignorant of anything in between
and teaches those who look at her -
- Teaches them what? - Shakespeare.
Jim considered her to be Jules' and didn't try to form a clear picture of her.
Catherine once again wore that calm smile.
It came naturally to her and expressed everything about her.
I'm almost ready. I just have to put on my dress.
Never put a hat on a bed. - Are we taking the bike?
The bag too?
What are you doing? - Burning these lies.
Give me a match.
My God!
Don't move.
- Are you all right? - Yes. Pass me my dress.
At the foot of the bed.
- Got a broom? - Yes, right under your nose.
Can you help me?
There.
We're taking that too.
What is it?
Sulfuric acid, for the eyes of men who tell lies.
That bottle will break and burn all your things.
Besides, you can buy that anywhere.
- Really? - Yes.
But it wouldn't be the same bottle.
I swore I'd only use this bottle.
What am I forgetting?
My hat.
Your hat.
They searched up and down the coast before finding the house of their dreams.
Though too big, it was isolated, imposing, white inside and out, and empty.
- Sleep well? - Very well.
Is Jim awake?
I don't know.
- How's everyone else? - Everyone else is fine.
What a beautiful day.
Hurry up. We're going to the beach.
Come on, Jim.
We're off in search of the last signs of civilization.
A piece of tire.
- Look. - A bottle.
Old shoes.
A can. Watch out in back.
Look, Catherine.
Watch out. it's steep.
Matches.
A postcard.
A piece of porcelain.
A cup and a cigarette butt.
A pack of English cigarettes.
I think we're lost, boys.
The house.
You think I'm right to want to marry her?
Answer honestly.
Is she cut out to be a wife and mother?
I'm afraid she'll never be happy on this earth.
She's a vision for all, perhaps not meant
for any one man alone.
We must go on.
I'm not moving.
L give UP-
Hey, boys, come help me.
Let's go, kids.
At last a book I enjoyed.
A man - German, of course -
who dares to say out loud what I think inside.
The sky we see is a hollow ball
no bigger than that.
And we walk upright, with our heads towards the center.
The attraction pulls towards the outside under our feet,
towards that solid crust in which this bubble is enclosed.
How thick is the crust, and what's beyond it?
Go find out. That's no question to raise among gentlemen.
Give me your answer tomorrow.
If it's no, I'll ask again every year on your birthday.
You haven't known many women, but I've known plenty of men.
It averages out. We might make an honest couple.
I asked Catherine to marry me. She's more or less said yes.
At 15, I was in love with Napoleon.
I dreamt I met him in an elevator.
He got me pregnant and I never saw him again.
Poor Napoleon.
As a little girl I learned: “Our Father who art in heaven.”
I thought it said “who arts in heaven.”
I imagined my father with an easel painting outside the pearly gates.
I believe I just said something funny.
In any case, amusing. You might at least smile.
Will anyone present scratch my back?
Heaven scratches those who scratch themselves.
What?
- Heaven scratches those - - Take that!
I never laughed before I met you two.
I always looked like this.
But that's over for good. Now it's like this.
Really?
It's raining.
Come see.
I miss Paris. Let's go back, please.
We'll be in Paris tomorrow evening.
I've sold my book.
This is for Catherine.
This is for you two.
- Beautiful. - Wonderful!
- What is this? - A little hand to scratch your back.
Very practical.
I've got three tickets for the theater tonight.
What are we going to see?
A new play by a Swedish author.
The play is at 9:00.
When all the sand's in the bottom, we must get dressed.
Jim saw his friends often and enjoyed their company.
The great Merovingian bed was officially inaugurated.
Jules' two pillows lay side by side on the bed,
and the bed smelled nice.
Catherine grew more beautiful and learned to live again.
All the same, I like that girl.
She wants to be free. She invents her own life every moment.
Jim doesn't look pleased.
Frankly, no. it's a confused and self-indulgent play.
Another writer who revels in vice to preach virtue.
We don't even know when or where it takes place.
He doesn't say if the heroine is a virgin.
That's not important.
Usually not, but since he states that the hero is impotent,
his brother is homosexual, and his sister-in-law is a nymphomaniac,
shouldn't he give physical details about the heroine?
No. Besides, that's all you two think about.
Absolutely. And your presence encourages us.
No psychology tonight, Jules.
It's not psychology. It's metaphysics.
The most important factor in any relationship is the woman's fidelity.
The husband's is secondary.
Who was it who wrote,
“Woman is natural, therefore abominable?”
Baudelaire, but he was describing a certain world.
Not at all.
He spoke of women in general.
What he says about a young girl is magnificent:
“Horror, monster, assassin of the arts, little fool, little slut.
The greatest idiocy combined with the greatest depravity.”
Wait. I'm not finished. This is marvelous:
“I'm always astonished they allow women inside churches.
What could they possibly have to say to God?”
- You're both fools. - I didn't say anything.
And I don't necessarily agree with what Jules says at 2:00 in the morning.
- Then protest. - I am protesting.
Catherine's plunge so astonished Jim
that he drew it the next day, though he didn't usually draw.
Admiration for Catherine welled up in him,
and he sent her a kiss in his mind.
He was calm.
He imagined himself swimming with her and holding his breath to frighten Jules.
Catherine, why?
You're crazy!
Catherine, take my hand.
You're crazy!
Catherine's hat drifted away with the current.
Jules was pale, silent, less self-assured, and more handsome than ever.
Catherine wore her same smile,
like a modest young general after his first brilliant campaign.
No one spoke of her plunge.
I've arrived.
Please, Mr. Jim.
No, just Jim.
Just Mm...
I'd like to meet with you to ask your advice.
Would you meet me tomorrow at 7:00 in our cafe'?
Yes. She wants to talk to you.
Very well. I'll be there at 7:00.
- You're joking. - I never joke.
I have no sense of humor, I assure you.
Of course, I know people who do. My wife's friends, coworkers.
But personally I have no sense of humor.
With his usual optimism, Jim had arrived late.
He was upset with himself, afraid he had missed her.
He thought, “A girl like that might well have left at 7:01.
A woman like that could have rushed across the room,
never noticing me behind my newspaper, and left. ”
He kept repeating to himself, “A woman like that.”
But just what was she like?
For the first time, he began to really think about Catherine.
Another coffee, please.
Waiter, another glass.
Jim? Did I wake you?
Catherine and I are going to my country to get married.
Bravo, Jules!
Please tell her I'm sorry I was late.
I waited until ten before 8:00.
She's more optimistic than you where time's concerned.
She was at the hairdresser's
and arrived at 8:00 to dine with you.
If I'd known she might still come, I'd have waited till midnight.
I'll put her on. She wants to speak to you.
Hello, Jim? I'm very happy.
Jules is going to teach me French boxing.
With an Austrian accent.
Me? I've lost my accent. My pronunciation is perfect.
Let me show you.
Arise, children of our motherland Now here is our glorious day
Over us the bloodstained banner of tyranny holds sway
Repeat.
Do you hear in our fields the roar of those fierce fighting men
Who've come right into our midst to slaughter sons, wives, and kin
To arms, citizens Form up in serried ranks
March on, march on
And drench our fields with their tainted blood
Into the fight we too shall enter
When our fathers are dead and gone
We shall find their bones laid down to rest
With the fame of their glories won
Repeat.
War broke out a few days later.
Jules and Jim were called up by their respective armies
and lost touch for a long time.
The war dragged on and on, and men settled into it.
Gradually a normal life emerged, marked by the different seasons,
with its down time, routines,
pauses, and even distractions.
Jim received parcels from Gilberte.
He almost saw her a few times, but his leave was canceled every time.
Then, in spring of 1916, he spent a week in Paris.
You don't marry a girl just for sending you packages.
We're fine as we are.
All right, but I still feel we'll grow old together.
- How's your friend Jules? - No news of him since his marriage.
In the trenches, sometimes I'm afraid I'll kill him.
My darling...
I never stop thinking of you.
Not of your soul - I no longer believe in that -
but of your body, your thighs, your hips,
and of your belly, and our son inside.
I have no more envelopes. I don't know how I'll get this letter to you.
I'm being sent to the Russian front.
It will be tough...
but I prefer it to the constant fear here of killing Jim.
My darling...
I kiss your lips passionately.
Jules' country had lost the war. Jim's had won.
But the true victory was that both were still alive.
They made contact through a neutral country and resumed correspondence.
Catherine and Jules lived in a chalet on the Rhine.
A daughter, Sabine, was born.
Jim wrote Jules, “Should I marry and have children too?”
Jules replied,
“Come and judge for yourself.”
Catherine added a few words of invitation.
Jim left. It was such an important event that he took his time.
He lingered in several towns along the Rhine.
A large Paris paper was publishing his articles on postwar Germany.
He wanted to revisit the places where he'd fought the hardest.
Some places had been so heavily bombarded
that the land was a mass of iron where nothing could ever grow again.
They became cemeteries where Jim searched crosses for familiar names
and schoolchildren were already brought to visit.
Catherine was waiting at the station with her daughter.
Her glance shone with imagination and daring barely held in check.
This is Sabine.
Hello, Mr. Jim.
Jules is anxious to see you.
Jim felt she was making a long-delayed appearance for their cafe' rendezvous
and had dressed up especially for him.
She took him to their chalet, surrounded by pines near a sloping meadow.
- How's everyone else? - Oh, you know.
- You haven't changed, Jim. - Nor have you, Jules.
So no one has changed.
Sit down.
Come here, Sabine.
No, thanks.
- You want some? - Just a bit.
No, thanks. I no longer smoke, even since I began to love plants.
An angel is passing by.
Of course. it's 1:20.
So?
Angels always pass by at 20 past the hour.
- Really? - So I've heard.
I didn't know that.
- Neither did I. - It's true.
And at 20 before the hour as well.
So you won the war, you louse!
I'd rather have won all this.
You must be hungry. Let's eat.
I'll show you the house after lunch.
Jim there, Jules here,
and Sabine next to me.
How's your new novel?
These damned articles won't let me finish it.
I have to think about them all week, write them Friday night,
and send them off via airmail.
And you?
I received a commission for a book on dragonflies.
I'm writing the text and gathering pictures.
Catherine is illustrating it.
Even Sabine is helping.
She goes with me into the swamps.
I'm going to build an artificial swamp
in the garden.
One day I may return to literature with a love story
in which the characters are insects.
I have a bad tendency to overspecialize.
I envy how widely you cast your net...
Jim.
Me? I'm a failure. Sorel, my teacher, taught me all I know.
“What do you want to be,” he asked. “A diplomat.”
“Do you have a large fortune?” “No.71
“Are you related to anyone famous?” “No.7!
“Then forget about diplomacy.”
“Then what can I become?” “An inquiring mind.”
“That's not a career.” “Not yet.
Travel, write, translate.
Learn to live anywhere, beginning now.
The future's bright for those who question.
The French have holed up behind their borders for too long.
Some newspaper will always pay for your escapades.”
Jules thinks you have a bright future.
So do I. But, I may add...
not necessarily spectacular.
Jules works and sleeps here.
Our life's as organized as in a monastery.
Jules writes his books
and hunts his insects and other little creatures.
Mathilde, whom you saw, is the daughter of a nearby farmer.
She helps me with the housework and with Sabine.
My room.
That's Jules.
Yes, his father liked Mozart so much
that he dressed him up one day as Mozart.
This is the balcony.
That's the inn where you'll sleep tonight.
Jules will take you there later.
Jules and Jim resumed their long-interrupted conversation.
They talked about the war. Jules avoided talking about his family.
Catherine was both kind and stern with Jules,
but Jim sensed something wasn't going well.
To bed, sleepyhead. The bedbugs are hungry.
Once upon a time...
there was a nice little bedbug.
Good night, Sabine.
Good night, Jim. See you in the morning.
- Good night, Jules. - I want to talk to you.
How does Catherine seem to you?
Marriage and motherhood suit her.
She's less the grasshopper now and more the ant.
Don't be deceived.
True, she brings order and harmony to this house.
But if things go too smoothly, discontent sets in.
She lashes out at everything with her gestures and expressions.
I've always thought as much. A little Napoleon.
She claims the world is rich
and that one can cheat a little now and then.
She begs God in advance for forgiveness,
certain she'll obtain it.
I'm afraid she may leave us.
- Impossible. - No, she's already done so.
For six months I thought she'd never come back.
I can feel she's ready to leave again.
She's no longer altogether my wife, Jim.
She's had lovers - three that I know of.
One on the eve of our wedding, as a farewell to her youth,
and as revenge for something I did
that I'm still unaware of.
I'm not the man she needs,
and she's not the kind of woman to put up with that.
I'm accustomed to her occasional infidelities,
but I couldn't stand to see her go.
Then there's Albert.
The singer who found the statue?
You remember? We came to know her through him.
He was wounded in the war.
He's convalescing in a nearby village.
Catherine's encouraged him and given him hope.
He's a headstrong man. He's spoken his mind to me.
He wants to marry her and take the child too.
I don't blame him.
I don't blame her or Albert.
I'm slowly renouncing my claim to her...
and all I had hoped for from the world.
That Buddhist monk in you is what she loves
and why she'll never leave you.
She's usually sweet and generous,
but when she thinks she's not sufficiently appreciated,
she becomes terrible
and swings violently from one extreme to the other.
Listen to that mole cricket's song.
It's a kind of mole.
Jim could see the chalet from his bedroom window.
So Catherine, the radiant queen of the house, was ready to fly off.
Jim wasn't surprised.
He recalled Jules' mistakes with Therese, Lucie, and all the others.
He knew that Catherine was terribly demanding.
Jim was sad for Jules, yet he couldn't condemn Catherine.
She jumped into men's arms like she'd jumped into the river.
A threat hung over the household.
The second week began.
Time to say good night.
Yes, Mommy.
Jim, I need to speak to you later.
Will you be free?
- Certainly. - Come see me.
Keep in mind that words can't have
the same meaning across languages,
because they're not of the same gender.
Unlike in French,
“war,” “death,” and “moon” are masculine in German,
while “sun” and “love” are feminine.
“Life” is neuter. - Life, neuter?
Very pretty and very logical.
In France too, skirts became shorter the longer the war went on.
It caused many a shouting match for married soldiers on leave.
Men felt they were played for fools.
But the reason was that fabric was scarce.
Yes, just as women cut their hair short
for safety around factory machinery.
It's time you started to appreciate German beer, Jim.
Jim is like me - French. He couldn't care less about German beer.
- Not at all. - What?
France has the greatest variety of wines in Europe. In the world!
Look at the Bordeaux:
Château Lame, Château Margaux, Château d'Yquem...
And even better ones too, like - wait a minute.
Clos-Vougeot, and the Burgundies: Romane, Chambertin...
And the Beaujolais: Pouilly-Fuissé, Pouilly-Loché, Moulin-é-Vent...
All eyes were fixed on the mortar shell
as it rolled down the steps.
Three steps, two steps - Hit the ground!
Catch me.
- What do you want to know? - Nothing. I want to listen.
- So you can judge me? - God forbid.
I don't want to tell you anything. I want to question you.
My question is: Tell me about yourself.
- All right, but tell you what? - Doesn't matter.
Just talk away.
Jim began, “There were once two young men...” whom he didn't name.
He told of their friendship in Paris before meeting a certain girl,
the impact she had on them, and all that ensued.
Even the line, “Not this one, Jim.”
There he couldn't avoid saying his own name.
He described the trio's outings, their trip to the seashore.
Catherine saw that Jim remembered everything about her very clearly.
She argued a few points on principle and added other details.
He described the missed rendezvous in the cafe,
and the three of them seen through his eyes.
He spoke of Jules' hidden qualities
and how he'd sensed that Jules could never keep Catherine.
- You'd have told me all that in the cafe'? - Yes.
Go on.
There's nothing more to say.
There was the war,
my joy at finding Jules again, you coming to the station,
the happy days I've spent with you here,
what I've seen, what I've learned, what I've suspected,
this cloud on the horizon - I mean Albert.
- Are you for Jules and against me? - No more than he is himself.
I'll tell the whole story now the way I've experienced it.
It was Jules' generosity, innocence, and vulnerability
that dazzled me and won me over.
He was such a contrast to other men.
By bringing him happiness, I hoped to cure him of his insecurities,
but I realized they were part of him.
Our happiness - for we were happy - didn't take hold,
and we found ourselves face-to-face
instead of merged as one.
His family was torture for me.
At a reception the eve before our wedding,
Jules' mother committed a gaffe that wounded me deeply.
By doing nothing, Jules tacitly condoned it.
I punished him by spending a few hours
with an old lover, Harold.
Yes, a lover.
That way I could marry Jules with all scores settled.
We could start over from zero.
Luckily, his family moved up north. I don't know where.
The war broke out. Jules left for the Russian front.
He wrote me ardent love letters,
wonderful letters.
From afar my love for him grew. I gave him a new halo.
The real break between us occurred during his first leave.
I felt as if I was in a stranger's arms.
He left. Sabine was born nine months later.
She doesn't look much like Jules.
Believe what you want, but she's his.
I said, “I've given you a daughter. That's enough.
That chapter is closed. I want my own bedroom, my own freedom.”
Remember our friend Fortunio?
He was free as a bird. So was I.
He was a sweet partner. What a vacation.
But he was too young. It wasn't serious.
Then one day, to my surprise,
I missed Jules' indulgence, his unhurried ways.
My daughter drew me like a magnet. I was on the wrong track.
I left.
I've only been back three months.
Jules is finished for me as a husband.
Don't feel sorry for him.
The distractions I provide are still enough for him.
Then there's Albert.
He told me of that statue you three loved
that I apparently resemble.
I flirted with him.
He can be strange, but he has a natural authority that Jules lacks.
He wants me to leave everything and marry him.
He'll take mother and daughter both.
I like him a lot, but that's all so far.
He's coming to lunch tomorrow. I'll see.
You've listened attentively. I talked more than you.
I don't pretend to have told all, no more than you did.
Perhaps I've had other lovers. That's my business.
I spoke only of the things you mentioned.
- I understand. - I don't want to be understood.
It's almost dawn.
Jim desired her, but he fought it back more than ever.
She mustn't leave.
To what extent was Jim about to act for Jules' sake? For his own sake?
He'd never know.
Perhaps she was seducing him, though Jim was far from sure.
It was impossible to tell.
Catherine revealed her goals only when she'd achieved them.
- Hello, Sabine. - Hello, Albert.
- How are you? How's your mother? - Fine.
- So you sacrificed your mustache too? - Like everyone else.
But I don't like it. I feel naked. I'm going to grow it back.
Albert was wounded in the war. In the trenches.
I'm all right now, but when I woke up
and saw the doctors probing inside my skull, I thought of Oscar Wilde.
“O Lord, spare me the physical pain.
I can cope with the spiritual pain.”
What's appalling about war
is that it deprives man of his own individual battle.
Yes, but I think he can wage his battle outside the field of war.
I'm thinking of a gunner I met in the hospital.
Returning from leave, he met a girl on a train.
They talked from Nice to Marseilles.
Stepping down onto the platform, she gave him her address.
He wrote her frantically from the trenches every day for two years
on bits of wrapping paper, by candlelight.
As bombs rained down, his letters became ever more intimate.
At first it was “Dear Miss”
and “Yours truly.”
By the third letter he called her “My little lamb” and asked for her picture.
Then it was “My adorable lamb.” Then “I kiss your hand.”
Then “I kiss your forehead.”
Later he described the picture she'd sent
and wrote of her breasts, which he thought he glimpsed under her robe.
Soon he was addressing her intimately. “I love you terribly.”
One day he wrote to her mother, asking for the daughter's hand.
He became her fiancé without ever seeing her again.
As the war continued, his letters became even more intimate.
“L make you mine, my love. I caress your adorable breasts.
I press your naked body against mine.”
When she replied rather coldly,
he was enraged and begged her not to flirt with him,
for he could die at any time, and he was right.
You see, Jules, to understand this extraordinary seduction by mail,
you have to have known the violence of trench warfare,
that collective madness where death is present every moment.
So here's a man who took part in the Great War
yet managed to wage his own individual battle at the same time
and win a woman's heart through long-distance persuasion.
Like you, he had a head wound when he arrived at the hospital,
but he wasn't as lucky as you.
He died after surgery on the eve of the Armistice.
In his last letter to the fiancee he hardly knew, he wrote,
“Your breasts are the only bombs I love.”
I'll show you some pictures of him.
Flip through them quickly and he seems to be moving.
Beautiful story, Jim.
Jules wrote me beautiful letters from the war too.
Hello, Albert. Did you finish my song?
Come up and let's work on it.
The rocking of this chair calls us to the pleasures of the flesh.
- What about the song? - We've just about got it.
We do, don't we? Shall we?
It's too good for them, but one can't choose one's audience.
On every finger she wore rings
Round her wrists, bracelets and things
She sang in a voice all the While
That left my heart beguiled
Her eyes were like two opals bright
That gave me a thrill, gave me a chill
Her face was like an opal white
As she moved in for the kill
We met, said adieu and then met anew
We lost touch and then we lost touch again
Once more we did meet For moments so sweet
Only to retreat
We went our own ways
In life's whirlpool of days
I saw her again in one evenings glow
It all seemed so long ago
I recognized her as the banjos danced
The! mysterious smile left my hear?' entranced
That voice so bright That face so white
I fell into a trance
I drank and heard her song so gay
Alcohol takes time's sting away
I awoke in her embrace
Felt her kisses on my face
We met, said adieu and then met anew
We lost touch and then we lost touch again
Said hello from the heart Then strayed apart
But then again it starts
We went our own ways
In life's whirlpool of days
We met again one night, and well
Into my arms again she fell
When the first time you knew and the second time too
It was just right for you Why say adieu
When you feel in your heart it's right from the start
Then you mustn't part
So we set off together anew
Spinning through life, just me and you
We whirl on through life this way
Embracing till this day
Catherine meant different things to each
and couldn't please them all, but too bad.
Jim could only admire Catherine unreservedly on her own.
In the company of others, she changed in his eyes.
Good night.
Our affection is new. We should let it rest like a newborn baby.
You were very much in love, Jim. I can feel that.
Why didn't you marry her? - It just didn't happen.
- What's she like? - Sensible and patient.
She says she'll wait for me forever. Her name is Gilberte.
Do you still love her, and she you?
Don't cause suffering, Jim.
I need adventure and risk.
And... now there's something new too.
I admire you, Catherine. I've come to love seeing you.
I'm afraid I'll forget Jules.
You mustn't forget him. You must warn him.
Translation, Catherine?
“Hearts yearning for each other O God, O God, the pain they cause”
Not bad.
Though “O God, O God” was your addition. Good night.
Give my regards to the others if you see them.
Would you lend me Goethe's Elective Affinities tonight ?
I just lent it to Jim.
Too bad.
Good night, Jim.
I'll bring it tomorrow.
You must bring Affinities back. She insists on reading it tonight.
Jim, she doesn't want me anymore.
I'm terrified I'll lose her, that she'll disappear entirely from my life.
The last time I saw you two side by side,
you looked like a couple.
Love her, marry her, and let me see her.
I mean, if you love her, stop thinking of me as an obstacle.
Jim had waited for her all day.
She was in his arms, speaking in her deep voice.
It was their first kiss, and it lasted all night.
They didn't speak but drew close instead.
Towards dawn, they become one.
Her face expressed incredible joy and curiosity.
Jim was enslaved.
Other women had ceased to exist for him.
It's your turn.
I've asked Jim to move into the house.
He'll take the small room.
Be careful, Jim...
for her sake and your own.
This is your makeshift room.
These books are in German, but you'll find others in my room.
The armoire. I'll unpack your bag.
I think it will do.
From here on it's a mess,
but there's nothing to be done about that.
What's on the other side?
Sabine and Mathilde's room.
The bed isn't too bad.
Sit down next to me.
I've always loved the nape of your neck.
The only part of you I could look at unnoticed.
What about Jules?
He loves us both.
He won't be surprised, and this way he'll suffer less.
We'll go on loving and respecting him.
They were known in the village as the three lunatics,
but otherwise they were well liked.
On hearing that, Catherine in vented a game: the village idiot.
The village was the table. They took turns as the idiot.
Sabine especially set them roaring with laughter.
Catherine had said, “One only truly loves for a moment,”
but for her, that moment came back again and again.
Life was one long holiday.
Jules and Jim had never handled such large dominoes.
Time passed.
Happiness isn't easy to tell of and wears out without anyone noticing.
One Sunday, Catherine decided to seduce Jules.
While Jim read downstairs, she took Jules into her room.
Jules kept saying no, but Catherine kept saying yes.
Though Jim told himself he had no right to be jealous, he was anyway.
Catherine noticed this and never repeated the experiment.
One day, the four walked around a lake
hidden in the mist of a lush, humid valley.
There was complete harmony between them.
Catherine had a brief headache. Jim had worse, from fatigue.
He thought, “If we had children,
they'd be tall and thin and have headaches too.”
On the shore of the lake they played with pebbles.
She made them throw them endlessly.
She and Jules learned to make them skip.
The sky seemed so near.
Jim was needed in Paris.
His paper was calling for him.
Leaving would have been agony
but for the certainty they'd be together again soon, intact.
The details of their perfect month together were engraved in their memories.
They waved gently for a long time as he left.
Jules gave them a sort of blessing and promised Jim he'd take care of her,
for they wanted to marry and have children.
Jules has agreed to a quick divorce.
I'm going to marry Catherine.
I want to have children with her.
Jules will find me work in his country.
I'm translating a play from Vienna to be performed here.
Where are you going? - Home.
- I'll go with you. - No, I'd rather you didn't.
Hello, Jim.
Therese - the steam engine.
Thérése, how are you? How'd it go with -
Two glorious weeks. Cheated on him to buy him his dream pipe.
He found out and got jealous. Locked me up for three weeks.
At first I was flattered, then furious.
Snuck down a painter's ladder and ran off - with the painter.
But I get antsy. Another guy promises riches.
I follow him to Cairo, where he sets me up in a brothel -
...police turn me over to some nuns. An Englishman rescues me.
I move into his villa on the Red Sea. I play tennis, I ride horses.
Then I get a letter.
- Is Jules in Paris? - No, he didn't come.
Too bad.
...I head home to break up my cousin's marriage and marry him.
- Hello, Jim. How's your buddy? - Just fine.
- Still with the same girl? - Yes.
Must be doing well.
...a respectable man. I pursued him, but he wasn't interested.
The husband I abandoned finally divorced me.
The undertaker finally marries me, convinced at last.
It's a perfect marriage, but no children.
The only man I could never cheat on - he leaves me no time or energy.
Now I'm writing my memoirs for the Sunday Times Magazine in Europe.
Here's my husband.
- What about you, Jim? - I'm getting married.
Good-bye, Thérése.
- Hello there. - Hello, Jim. How's Jules?
Just fine.
Interesting, isn't she? Her name is Denise.
Don't bother talking to her. She won't answer.
She never talks.
She's not an idiot. Just empty.
Nothing in there. She's just a thing.
- A pretty thing. - Yes, a beautiful object.
It's just sex. Unadulterated sex.
Say good-bye to the gentleman. - Good-bye.
Catherine spent the winter at home before the fireplace.
She was Jim's fiancee, entrusted to Jules.
She asked Jules every day,
“Do you think Jim loves me?”
Listen, Gilberte.
If Catherine decides she wants something
and thinks no one will be hurt -
though she could be wrong, of course -
she does it
for her own pleasure and to learn from the experience.
She hopes this way to attain wisdom one day.
That could take a long time.
Don't be mean.
I'm not being mean. I'm jealous.
I've known for a long time it would end this way.
Jim, don't leave tomorrow.
She'll have you the rest of her life. Give me just one more week.
Jim could no more leave Gilberte than Catherine could leave Jules.
They couldn't hurt Jules or Gilberte,
who counterbalanced each other as the fruit of the past.
“Tell Jules I ran into Therese, now married and a writer.
I must delay my return once again,
but I'll soon be free to return to you.
I still have a few farewells to say.”
“A few farewells.”
Do you think Jim loves me?
Hello, Jules.
What's wrong?
Why didn't Catherine come to meet me?
She wasn't happy with your letters.
You wrote too much about your work, your farewells.
She doesn't like absences. Yours was too long.
When in doubt, she always outdoes what might have been done to her.
- But she's waiting for us? - Yes, I think so. Of course.
I didn't want to tell you.
She left yesterday morning without explanation.
I hoped she'd be back before you arrived.
Aren't you worried?
You mean, that something may have happened to her?
I just think she's out committing some irreparable act.
I told you your letter didn't make a good impression.
“L ran into Thérése, now married and a writer.
I still have a few farewells to say.”
No, whatever Catherine does, she does fully.
She's a force of nature that manifests in cataclysms.
In every circumstance she lives in clarity and harmony,
convinced of her own innocence.
- You speak as if she were a queen. - She is a queen!
Let me be frank.
Catherine's not especially beautiful or intelligent or sincere,
but she's a real woman.
It's that woman whom you and I love,
whom all men desire.
If she's so sought after, why did she give us
the gift of her presence?
Because we gave her our undivided attention, like a queen.
I swear I almost didn't come.
I knew things could never again be as good between us.
Even our friendship suffers from it.
At times I'm jealous of your happy years with her
and even hate you for not being jealous of me.
You believe that?
I'll do anything not to lose her completely.
And you'll be like me when she returns,
for she always returns.
Listen, help me. I'm going back to Paris.
Tell her you went to the station but I wasn't there.
I've made up my mind. It's the only solution.
I see. I met the train, but you weren't on it.
Hello.
What's the matter?
You just arrived.
There, now you're mine and I'm yours. All is well.
But in your letters, you spoke so much of your affairs. Well, I have my own.
You spoke of bidding farewell to your loves.
I decided to bid farewell to mine too.
You'll hold me in your arms all night long, but that's all.
We want a child, don't we?
Well, if I had one now, I wouldn't know if it was yours.
You understand?
I had to do it. - Do you love Albert?
Does he love you? - Yes.
You must believe me. It was the only way to even things between us.
Albert equals Gilberte.
You have nothing to say?
We must start with a clean slate.
A clean slate, all debts paid. That was Catherine's philosophy.
They lay there, trembling and chaste.
Catherine fell asleep, but Jim never closed his eyes.
He realized she loved him as he loved her,
that some force drew them together.
So they started over again, flying high like great birds of prey.
They remained chaste until she was sure she wasn't carrying Albert's child.
This restraint left them elated. They were always together.
They never cheated. The promised land was in view.
THE PROMISED LAND ABRUPTLY RECEDED
When they were ready for a child, Catherine didn't become pregnant.
They saw a specialist, who told them to be patient,
that these things took months with many couples.
What's wrong?
I want to sleep alone. Go to your room.
- Why? - I just do.
- Explain. - There's nothing to explain.
I'll just lie here by your side. I'll be good.
That's not true.
Anyway, I don't care if you're good. I'm disgusted.
It's a nightmare when the evening comes.
I think of the child we'll never have. I feel I'm taking some test.
I can't stand it anymore. - Our love is all that counts.
No, because I count too,
and I love you less.
Let's try to do without each other.
If I find out too late I still love you, that's the risk I take.
Go back to Gilberte, since she writes you every day.
- You're unfair. - No doubt I am.
But I'm heartless.
That's why I don't love you, and why I'll never love anyone.
Besides, I'm 32 and you're 29.
When you're 40 and I'm 43, you'll want a girl of 25,
and I'll be left all alone like a fool.
Maybe you're right. I'll leave tomorrow.
Let's separate for three months.
Are you hurt?
Then I'll stop being hurt.
We mustn't ever both suffer at once.
When you stop suffering, I'll start.
Am I disturbing you?
I can't take it anymore.
Did you hear us arguing? - No, I was working.
I can't stand him any longer. I'm going mad.
Anyway, he's leaving tomorrow. Good riddance.
Don't be unfair.
You know he loves you.
I don't know anymore. I really don't.
He lied to me.
He didn't break up with Gilberte. He doesn't know what he wants himself.
“You love her, you don't love her, you'll end up loving her.”
I can't help it if we couldn't have a child.
- You got a cigarette? - You want one?
- Want me to talk to him? - No, please don't.
I'm half for him and half against him.
But I want him to go.
We've decided to separate for three months.
What do you think?
I don't know. Maybe it's a good idea.
Don't you want to tell me what you think?
I know very well you despise me.
I will never despise you.
I'll always love you,
whatever you do, whatever happens.
Is that true, Jules?
I love you too.
We really were happy together, weren't we?
We still are.
At least I am.
Really?
Yes, we'll stay together always...
like an old couple,
with Sabine and our grandchildren.
Keep me close to you.
I don't want to go back to him before he leaves.
Then you stay here.
I'll sleep downstairs.
My little Catherine.
You often make me think
of a Chinese play I saw before the war.
The curtain rises, and the emperor
turns to the audience and says...
“You see before you the unhappiest of men,
because I have two wives:
wife number one and wife number two.”
For Jules their love was now relative, while his for Catherine had been absolute.
Jim left the house the next morning.
Catherine wanted to take him to the station once more.
A mist had settled over the meadow during the night.
The rest of the hive sensed confusedly that Jim had lost favor with its queen
and thus naturally should leave.
The house has already disappeared.
The autumn railway schedule had just taken effect.
There was no train until the next day.
One always feels guilty in a hotel room.
I may not be very moral, but I have no taste for secrecy. But you do.
Don't deny it. I wouldn't believe you.
Jim thought of the children they might have had.
He imagined a houseful of handsome children.
He also knew that if they had none,
Catherine would take up her adventures again.
They didn't speak, but they made love in that cold, sad hotel room,
no! knowing why - perhaps to bring their story to a close.
It was like a burial, or as if they were already dead.
The next day she took him to his train, but they didn't wave good-bye.
They parted on the verge of tears, though nothing forced them to.
Jim thought to himself once again that it was all over.
Here's your inhaler. There was a letter too.
I think I'm pregnant. Come. Catherine.
Gilberte, please give me some writing paper.
Catherine, I'm very ill, in no shape to get out of bed,
and I've no desire to come see you, most likely pregnant by another,
for our pitiful good-bye couldn't have succeeded
where our greatest love failed.
“...where our greatest love failed.”
You're right. I don't believe a word about this illness.
I'll write him immediately and say you wish to see him.
Dear Imaginary Invalid, come as soon as you can.
Catherine awaits a letter.
Write in large letters, for her eyes are tired
and she can only read large writing.
Catherine doesn't believe I'm really sick,
and I wonder if she's really pregnant.
In any case, it's unlikely I'm the father.
My doubts are well justified
by our past, Albert, and all the rest.
Since you're going out, could you mail this letter?
Certainly.
Oh, there's a letter for you.
I'm late. See you later.
I love you, Jim.
So many unbelievable things we can't understand
turn out to be true.
I'm finally going to have a child.
Let us thank God. Bow down before him.
I'm absolutely certain you're the father.
I beg you to believe me. Your love is now alive within me.
You must believe me.
This paper is your skin. This ink is my blood.
I'm pressing hard so the ink enters in. Answer me quickly.
Darling, I believe you, and I believe in you. I'm coming to you.
I know whatever bit of good I find within me comes from you.
They'd promised never to call each other,
fearing to hear each other's voice when they couldn't touch.
The mail took three days. Their letters crossed.
“My doubts are well justified by our past, Albert, and all the rest.”
I'll think no more of you so that you'll stop thinking of me.
You disgust me now, which is wrong,
for one should never be disgusted by anything.
My Jim, your long letter changes everything.
You'll be here in two days. You - not just a letter.
Let's forget our harsh words of days ago. They're gone.
Come when you can, but let it be soon,
even late at night.
Finally Jim received a letter from Jules.
“Your child died early in the womb.
Catherine wishes only silence between you from now on.”
So they had created nothing.
Jim thought, “It's fine to want to rediscover the laws for human life,
but how practical it must be to conform to existing ones.
We gambled with the sources of life and lost.”
It can't be.
I can't believe it!
You gave up your chalet for good?
Yes, we prefer to live in France now.
We've rented an old mill on the Seine.
We absolutely must get together. Please come by tomorrow.
Very well.
Please tell me about Catherine.
For a long time I feared she'd kill herself.
She'd bought a gun.
She'd say, “So-and-so killed himself”
like others say, “So-and-so died of cholera.”
She withdrew into herself like a widow,
as if recovering from a serious illness.
She moved in slow motion, with the fixed smile of a corpse.
Gilberte, this is my friend Jules.
Jim's told me so much about you. I feel like I know you very well.
Does Catherine know you've come to see me?
Yes. She invites you for a ride in her car.
I hope you'll accept, and perhaps your wife -
She won't accept, but I will.
I must be going.
No, Jules! You can't wear a hat like that, at least not in France.
Take mine. - Very well.
Come. it's over there.
She's in very good spirits this morning.
Please don't upset her. - Me?
It's wonderful here.
That's Catherine's car.
Come.
Jim's here.
Catherine was smiling, but she had a look of intrigue about her.
She wrapped her white pajamas in a parcel just so.
Jim wondered why but then forgot about it,
and they left for a drive.
I'm so hungry. Shall we eat here?
Albert, what are you doing here?
Getting some fresh air.
Besides, I live here.
- Will you eat with us? - I'd love to, if it's right away.
- You have a date in town perhaps? - Perhaps.
Give me my little package. Good night.
Well-played second act, including the bit with the white pajamas.
I wasn't expecting it.
I'm surprised she didn't give that role to a new leading man.
She's used Albert so often. - But why? He was perfect for tonight.
Leave her the car.
Catherine's maxim is:
At least one party in a relationship must be faithful.
The other party. - I must get home.
You saw that I'm not living alone.
I'm going to marry Gilberte. - You're a wiser man than I.
You've realized that with Catherine, when it's over, it's really over.
Gilberte will make a good wife.
She's very beautiful.
Jim recognized the rhythmic call of Catherine's car.
At first he saw nothing. Then he saw the car
weaving among the trees on the empty square,
grazing benches and trees like a riderless horse or phantom ship.
What an awful night. I don't know what I was doing there.
That kind of life was dead for me.
It was a desert to die in.
I kept speaking of you, looking for you.
Come right away.
Lie down next to me.
Kiss me.
There's something I must tell you. It's rather long.
Tell me.
I found a passage you'd marked in a book you lent me.
“A woman on a ship
gives herself in her imagination to a stranger.”
It struck me as a confession.
That's how you explore the universe.
I feel that keen curiosity too.
Perhaps everyone does.
I control it for your sake, but I'm not sure you do for mine.
I agree with you that in love
a couple is not ideal.
You only have to look around.
You wanted to invent something better
by rejecting hypocrisy and resignation.
You wanted to invent love.
But pioneers must be humble and unselfish.
We must face the truth.
We failed. We made a mess of everything.
You tried to change me to suit you.
I tried to spread joy, but I've created only pain.
My promise to Gilberte that we'd grow old together
means nothing because I can put it off forever.
It's like a counterfeit bill.
I no longer hope to marry you.
You must know: I'm going to marry Gilberte.
She and I can still have children.
That's a beautiful story.
But what about me?
What about the children I wanted?
You didn't want them.
Yes, I did.
They would have been beautiful.
You're going to die.
You disgust me. I'm going to kill you.
You're a coward. You're scared.
SEVERAL MONTHS LATER
Jim was glad to see Jules
and to find his heart no longer leapt at seeing Catherine.
She didn't want to leave them alone and suggested a drive.
Jim agreed. What was in store this time?
Catherine toyed with the speed of her car and took
almost imperceptible risks.
There was an air of expectancy, like the day of their outing
when they'd met Albert.
They stopped at an open-air café by the water.
Now they're burning books.
It's unbelievable.
For Catherine, you were easy to get
and hard to keep.
Your love waned and soared
with hers.
I never knew those ups and downs.
Mr. Jim...
I have something to tell you.
Would you come with me?
Jules, watch us carefully.
Jules would no longer dread, as he had from the start,
that Catherine would cheat on him or quite simply die,
since it had happened now.
Their bodies were found entangled among the reeds.
Jim's coffin was even larger than life,
dwarfing Catherine's at its side.
They left nothing of themselves, but Jules had his daughter.
Had Catherine loved conflict for conflict's sake? No.
But she'd bewildered Jules with it to the point of nausea.
A sense of relief flooded over him.
Jules' and Jim's friendship had no equivalent in love.
They delighted together in the smallest things.
They accepted their differences with tenderness.
From the start, everyone called them Don Quixote and Sancho Panza.
The ashes were placed in urns and sealed in separate compartments.
Jules would have mingled them.
Catherine had always wanted hers scattered to the winds from a hilltop,
but it was against regulations.