Yes?
Marianne! I'm glad to hear you.
Yes, indeed.
But I'm working now.
Sure.
No, I've got to work. Listen...
listen, I'll call you back, okay?
Take care. I'll call you later. Bye.
I've had two passions
in life:
women...
and freed...
Yes?
Hélène!
I'm glad to hear you.
Well, I'm working. Yes, indeed.
I'm working. No, I said I'm working.
Listen, I'll call you later, okay?
Exactly. Bye now. Talk to you later.
Take care.
Fuck!
Hello? Yes.
Put him on.
Well, yes.
Listen, I've been your publisher for 15 years,
so we're almost friends.
You're going through a major crisis and I can't let you go down. Listen.
I have here in front of me
the details of your current situation and some numbers.
Do you want me to be more specific?
So let's go straight to our results. I have seven books of yours on the market
and the most recent one generated 7100 francs in rights.
That's great! Just send me a check.
Except the advance payments I gave you
amount to 330 000 francs.
The result from our subtraction is 231 000 francs.
To make it clear, you owe me 231 000 francs.
Not only that, but you also seem to believe that I'll pay your taxes for you,
and on top of that, you expect me to send you money.
My friend, you're going a bit too far!
What exactly do you want from me?
Jérôme, I haven't got a book from you in three years.
That's a problem.
That problem comes from another problem.
All my books are about women,
and if I'm having trouble writing is because I've had enough of women.
To me, they're scandalous, errors of nature.
Well, that's it.
That's very good. Why don't you write about it?
Fuck off.
Jérôme...
I have an idea.
What if I could find you a woman...
who wasn't a weigh for you,
who wasn't a burden...
who inspired you without tying you down?
You'd just have to trust me and let me do as I wish.
- Is that right? - I find her,
and if I do, you do your work.
So what do you think?
"Urgent. Looking for competent short hand-typist.
Must be pretty, fully available
and ready to travel for a short trip with renowned writer.
Excellent compensation.
Apply at René Garancière Publishing,
11 rue Servendoni."
Hello, Miss.
You seem to be the person we are looking for.
Please, sit down.
You've read the details of the ad.
Yes, the secretary should travel
with a renowned writer.
"Excellent compensation."
Exactly.
However, one of our conditions might surprise you.
So...
and please, don't be under the impression that it is common practice for us
to hire secretaries for our writers.
But Jérôme Hervé being the most popular one,
we want to help him out.
So he's looking
for a competent secretary,
and you are one.
But on top of that...
you know, an artist needs...
inspiration,
understanding,
encouragement.
And that's why we're asking you...
after all, why don't you read clause number 5 yourself?
"The hired secretary agrees
to offer her collaboration night and day,
knowing that collaboration won't be restricted to its professional aspect.
She agrees to offer Jérôme Hervé
anything a woman can offer a man."
- "Anything a woman can offer a man"? - Yes, "anything a woman can offer."
- What does that mean? - What it means...
I know exactly what it means! It means you think of me as a whore!
Not at all, Miss. Of course not.
Just like you, I think that clause is...
It's awful! It's insane!
Like a slave, I would have to belong to a man I don't even know.
Do you think I'm the type of girl
who would agree to be some dirty old man's toy?
- I'm not that kind of girl. - So you're turning down the position?
No, I'll take it!
The first-class Mistral Transeurope Express
will leave at 1:20 pm from platform A.
Marianne?
I'm calling from the station.
Honey, you know the only solution
was to leave and work.
You know I only work well on the go.
Traveling inspires me.
What's that? Of course I'm going by myself.
So am I, baby. I'm looking forward to marrying you.
That's exactly why I have to finish my book.
Sure.
Of course.
Listen, my train's about to leave.
I send you all my love.
Yes, I...
I'll call you as soon as I can.
Take care. Bye.
The Mistral Transeurope Express
will depart immediately. Please board now.
Hélène?
Honey, I'm calling from the station.
Yes.
No, not for long. Not at all.
Paris was getting to me
and I wanted to finish my book before we get married.
You know I only work well on the go.
Traveling inspires me.
So am I. I'm looking forward to marrying you.
Listen...
I'll call you later. My train's leaving.
All my love. See you soon. Bye.
Clara...
what a nice name.
"Nice" might not be the right word,
- but that name's quite... - "Clear"!
The countryside's funny in that it's big.
It's even way too big, when you think of it.
I wonder why the countryside's so big.
I've never asked myself that question before.
It's funny, I always ask questions people never ask.
I wonder why.
- Because you have a curious mind. - Not really.
- You're not? - No.
I'm a woman, but I'm not curious at all.
- Really? - But I like to know everything.
I always want to know how things will work out.
Would you like a cigarette?
No, thanks. I don't smoke,
but I'll have one anyway.
Usually, they're smoked one at a time.
You're right.
I wonder why.
Because what I like to do with chocolates,
is to put two or three in my mouth.
It's a good thing I never eat chocolate.
- Why not? - Because I hate chocolate.
I hate everything sweet.
Except pastries.
I apologize for being intrusive, Miss.
If you could sign this menu for me,
- I'd put it in your new book. - I'd be happy to.
- Here. - I've read all your books.
- You have? - Why do you write books?
And why not?
Because there are so many other things to do.
I used to know a writer.
Which writer?
I forgot his name. He could play chess like no one else!
- Do you play chess? - Do I look like I play chess?
What's your sign?
- Aries. - I knew it!
I'm a Libra.
- Alcohol, liquor? - No, thanks.
We'll drink in our compartment.
You don't mind if we start working right away?
Did a woman give you this tie?
Yes.
Why?
Because it's not your style at all.
The title will be "Women."
Very good.
New line, new paragraph.
How did I come to this?
Go ahead! It's the first chapter's title.
How did I come to this?
Next week, I am expected to marry Marianne in Saint Moritz
and Hélène in Venice. Period. New line.
It is you or your character?
Me.
- Is that true? - Yes.
That's hilarious!
For 15 years, I've been writing solely about women
and they're all that I've been interested in. Period.
I've always wanted to see a man who's never been in love.
Right.
It's because I loved that I was loved...
and that I wrote my first book.
That first book came to me after a painful breakup
that I didn't initiate.
The first woman who mattered to me was Anne.
We liked the same things,
including freedom, which is rare.
We were happy
because we had the same tastes,
the same training,
the same desires...
In a nutshell, we got along great.
We were always together...
and yet, we were as free as ever.
Everything between us was perfect.
We were never bored,
we loved to talk to each other,
make love to each other,
or just be quiet.
- It was... - Happiness.
It looked like happiness. Period. Next line.
How long did that last?
It lasted...
- Five years. - What's been going on for five years?
Us.
Listen...
you're going to Cuba for research,
I'm going to San Francisco for my art opening...
and the Azores are on our way.
Why not get married there?
You want to get married? You?
I mean, you...
you really want to get married?
With you, on the island.
Just for fun.
We could stay on the island without getting married.
If you don't want to get married on an island,
we could do it somewhere else...
quite simply, in our neighborhood.
I said yes
and ran to a local café.
I spent an entire life in this café,
writing...
frantically writing all the things I couldn't tell her.
I wrote that thanks to her, I had discovered something about myself.
"I love you and we're happy,
but I've just discovered what my preference is.
And I prefer adventure and freedom over happiness.
I prefer freedom over happiness. I prefer the unexpected."
The closer the date got,
the higher the number of unsent letters got.
I decided to write another letter.
That was a particularly good letter.
I explained to her that we were going to ruin everything,
that we should not get married.
That letter also stayed in my pocket.
Jérôme Hervé, do you take Miss Anne de Montfort
as your lawful wife?
It's hard to answer that kind of question with yes or no.
It is hard for me.
You say "yes" and that's it. It's the law.
Jérôme Hervé, do you take Miss Anne de Montfort
as your lawful wife?
No. No.
I'm not...
I'm not really cut for marriage, that's it.
Do you understand?
You don't? You don't understand.
But you understand.
You have to understand. Here.
Read these letters and you'll understand.
You'll see...
I didn't think we had broken up. On the contrary.
I thought she'd reply.
I was anxiously waiting for her answer to my letters.
But she sent them back to me with two words:
"publish them. "
She was perfect until the last moment.
I wouldn't have thought of it myself.
Those letters made me famous.
And they made up your first essay,
- "Disponibilism." - Did you read it?
"In love,
only the beginnings are delightful...
and that's why one should have many."
"I call 'disponibilism'
the desire to keep one's future intact
- by never committing..." - "... to a single person."
"To a single person," indeed.
I just bought it. Haven't read it.
You haven't?
I skimmed through it. This is not bad:
"We should choose the unknown
over what's already been felt,
even if what we have is delightful.
The greatest misfortune for man
is that he can imagine thousands of lives,
yet he's prisoner of a single body.
It would be a greater misfortune
to make oneself prisoner of another person,
and one should on the contrary
keep a large number of options."
Indeed. Do you like it?
I'd probably think that way if I were a man.
If I were a woman too.
- So which are you? - I wish I knew!
I never talk about myself.
I am myself, that's all.
Will you stop questioning me?
You're writing your memoirs, not me.
Next chapter.
"Too many fish in the sea."
"Many fish in the sea."
So, any good catch?
What was wonderful about it, was that they were all different.
Had they not been, I would have stopped immediately.
I was reborn with each one of them.
Each time, life was starting again. Everything was starting again,
because they were never the same.
The lives I started were all the more delightful
since I knew they wouldn't last forever.
Few women could resist the way I was fascinated with them.
I really was fascinated.
Every time.
I always approached them with the same line:
"There are two women in you."
Worked every time.
"Miss, there are two women in you."
"There are two women in you."
So you had a lot of fish?
- Of course. - How many?
I don't know.
Do you know your number?
How many?
Three.
You think I'll believe that? Three only?
I'm counting those who really mattered.
I've forgotten the others like nothing happened.
So...
I've never had anyone.
Something extraordinary happened to me one day,
a real event.
It was Bastille Day.
I was very happy. I liked her very much.
I like her back and I liked her profile.
She smiled at me.
I was a happy man.
"It's funny, I feel like there are two women in you."
That smile.
That's when I saw
that terrible smile.
I asked her if she was smiling because she'd heard my line before,
and indeed, she'd heard it before.
I asked from whom, and she said "you."
Then I remembered.
I had been crazy about that girl six months earlier in Florence,
then I forgot about her.
How?
How could I live a life
where I had no memories because I had too many of them?
How could I have forgotten about Florence?
If I had got to the point where I could not remember a girl I had loved...
a girl I had had a crush on, a huge crush,
my life was nonsensical
and I had to make drastic changes.
Come in.
Good evening. May I make your beds?
Please do.
Let's go.
Let's leave the room while he's making the beds.
Thanks, Clara. I really needed you.
No, you needed a secretary.
I needed to be with a woman who's not holding me captive.
It's new for me.
With our contract, we are keeping out all those things that spoil love.
No, we're done for tonight.
- Take your clothes off. - Just like that?
Sure.
That's what I'm going to do.
Which do you prefer?
Which what?
Which bed? The one on the right or the left?
- We're going to sleep? - Well, yes.
Men are funny.
Who was the gentleman who took you to the station?
- Are you in love with him? - Madly!
How about him?
We shall see.
Is he jealous?
We shall see!
It's not that I am sleepy, but I like to smoke in the dark.
In the dark, I can't taste the tobacco.
I hate the taste of tobacco.
So why are you smoking?
Because I can't help it.
Clara?
Yeah?
Come over here.
Where?
To my bed.
- What for? - To make love.
No.
- We said we were going to sleep. - I've changed my mind.
- Why? - Come on, Clara!
You did sign a contract!
My contract doesn't say I have to desire you.
It only says I have to put up with you.
So let's go!
Go back to bed. You'll be better off alone.
So the contract is no longer enough for you?
Now, I'd have to be in love with you.
Go to sleep! It'll be better for the both of us!
Excuse me.
What the hell are you doing here?
I got the wrong compartment. Sorry.
Not a problem.
See you later.
All right, I'm ready.
To work.
Being a secretary is also part of my contract.
Where were we?
You are not happy.
Are you disappointed?
I'll make up for it by being a good secretary.
Do you want to know where we were?
I do.
"I am suspicious of too much success because it can create bonds.
Especially for people like me,
who act like Don Juans
without really being one."
Type this:
I was vulnerable...
because I was suffering from so much self-restriction,
such as really knowing someone else
and the deep pleasures of tenderness.
After conquering so much, I wanted to love.
And that terrified me.
So what was left for me?
Bodies.
Nothing but bodies.
I met this body in the studio of a photographer she was modeling for.
It was just perfect.
I was reassured right away:
our relationship would be nothing but physical.
My only concern was to know if I would get bored with her.
My only concern was to know this:
would desire surpass boredom?
Only experience would tell.
So I invited the body to lunch.
Look, you take the fork
and you use it like a little knife.
Like so.
Just like that.
And you eat it. It's delicious.
I didn't know oysters had feet.
They do.
Careful. There you go.
Good!
How about spending the weekend in the countryside?
Just the two of us.
- It's an excellent idea. - Indeed.
Yes.
Beautiful women...
Yes?
Beautiful women are easier than the others.
"Easier than the others"?
Why is that?
After so much solicitation,
- their ability to resist diminishes. - That's right!
It is indeed.
Marianne...
Marianne was a creature...
who loved her own person,
and I only loved her body,
which was reassuring.
A body is like a masterpiece.
It's a safe investment.
I desired her
and she seemed to desire me back.
It happened quite simply,
like all major things.
I wanted to take all the pleasure that woman could give me,
until there was none left.
But since that pleasure didn't seem to ever run out,
we left.
I thought it was for a few days,
but after a week, I was not eager to go home.
France was ours!
We turned its every corner into our bedroom.
We made love every 65 miles,
going 85 miles per hour.
That was a good average!
It was fascinating
because we were ready to break up every day.
Every day, we would say, "That's enough. Let's go back to Paris."
But we didn't.
Summer was going by,
to the rhythm of our goodbyes and the renewal of our ties.
Without knowing it, and after leaving for a weekend only,
we were spending the whole summer together.
We thought every day was the last...
and that we would separate.
That it was over and that it hadn't mattered at all,
when I was crazy about her.
What did you like about her?
I thought I knew her, and I thought there was nothing to know about her
but an abyss of femininity.
She was gifted for thinking in silence,
but who was she thinking about?
Anyway, we were hiding things from each other.
I was hiding my happiness from her.
That day, I was beside myself
for it was impossible to get a word out of her.
She was nothing but a woman whose excesses fascinated me,
and I had to treat her like a woman.
Like so.
I had embraced solitude
but couldn't bear it now.
Because of Marianne, any pleasure I could have taken without her
would have only been incomplete.
I was wondering if the feeling was mutual,
if maybe she was thinking of someone else...
the bullfighter in the arena, for instance.
Which she would never confess to.
But that day precisely,
she waited for the moment when the bull would be put to death
to tell me...
"It's the first time I find another man attractive
since we met."
It was both a confession of love and a threat.
To see the ocean with her...
with the fear that it might end.
We're feeling good.
Really, we're feeling real good.
It was the first time we confessed it to each other.
There is a major difference between being happy and being aware of it,
and we were aware of it
and my fear changed...
became more specific.
My fear turned into the fear of her leaving me.
I told her, "You're not going to leave, are you?"
If you want me to, I'll stay with you...
forever.
I was silent for a while, then declined.
I had to.
She was offering me all the happiness imaginable,
but I declined because I wanted to break it off
while I was on top of happiness.
We were experiencing the height of our passion.
Yep, I let her leave for Sweden.
Did she know I was breaking up because I loved her too much,
because I wanted to save our love
by sparing it the slow erosion every relationship goes through?
I don't know.
We were saving ourselves by separating. I knew that.
It had to be done,
and I did.
That's it.
I made a novel out of it:
"That Summer."
It was about that summer with Marianne,
which was in the past.
It's beautiful.
I am very sensitive to beautiful things.
Too sensitive.
I can't look for too long, though, 'cause I get bored.
Interested?
He's cute. Look at his moustache.
It's not that I'm crazy about men with a moustache, but...
I like them.
And last night, you clearly demonstrated that you don't like me.
- Are we going back to work? - No.
- Then I'll stroll around. - Right.
Do you have "That Summer" by Jérôme Hervé?
"That Summer", by Jérôme Hervé.
Here.
You're not going to read this, are you?
It's boring to death. Really.
Do you really feel like reading?
Wouldn't you rather chat with me?
Check, please!
That's enough! I'll break your...
You... you bastard!
Please give this back to the hair stylist. Thanks.
Take your clothes off! Now!
Do you want me because other men desire me?
- Quiet! - I have to be quiet?
- Yes! - Well, sorry. I didn't know.
You want me with or without the shoes?
If you think you'll discourage me, think again!
Do you like me, or is it just our contract?
Do you want to tear up that contract?
That contract doesn't give you permission for such familiarity!
Okay, let's get to work.
Don't forget you're my secretary. Here.
I'll try to be a good secretary,
since I wasn't a good...
a good...
- how can I put this? - That was nothing but sabotage.
I acted according to the contract.
- You ruined it for you, not for me. - Good for you, then!
- There. - All right.
- Type this... it's your only talent anyway. - Then you should dictate something.
Right. Where were we?
We're through with Marianne
and you've avoided the danger of living with a woman who's good for you.
I never forgot her. Period.
The sight of women made me sick as long as it wasn't Marianne.
The reason I looked at Hélène... this woman here...
is because she didn't seem like a real woman to me.
She was a sports fiend... skydiving, skiing, you name it.
She was the fastest, the highest, the deepest woman in the world.
She had done everything and she would do everything.
She excelled in all areas and she loved danger.
She was not out to please but to win.
Her rule was to always defend herself.
Modesty was her passion,
and one could only take her need
to avoid the gaze of men seriously.
I was still thinking of Marianne, but for me, Hélène was like sports.
To beat the champion she was
was my goal, a real goal.
I loved the war I was waging against her
and I wanted to be victorious.
That quiet, patient war, which was new to me,
gave me a reason to live,
to wake up in the morning...
to shave.
I followed her everywhere,
even to the places that bored me the most.
Hélène was charmed by the fact that I showed interest in her passions...
but I was growing impatient.
It was the first time
I dedicated myself to a woman for months
without making any progress whatsoever.
It was the first time I had to make such an effort,
to show so much patience, to resort to trickery to seduce a girl
who still turned me down.
If I say no to everything,
it may be because you ask for everything.
Maybe.
But tonight, you're not asking for anything.
I'm just asking for this to last.
Let's go to my place.
Please, take the first street on the left.
You can ask me anything.
Anything.
Ladies and gentlemen, we'll be in Rome in a few minutes.
Thanks.
- So, tell me about Hélène. - Ah, Hélène.
I pursued her because of her modesty.
She had barely lent herself to me, never fully given herself.
I was more celibate than ever.
It was unbearable.
I wanted to know if I could go too far with her.
Please, don't say that.
I find you unattractive at times.
Really.
I would have probably given up, had I not sensed she was hesitating,
that she was quivering, that she loved me.
I asked for the undeniable proof of her love.
"I want the undeniable proof of your love!"
What better proof can you give than to act against your own nature,
to accept what's unacceptable.
I told her what I wanted and she said yes.
I wanted what represented the worst thing for her.
This way.
- No, I can't! - Not again!
Don't be stupid! Come on.
It's very simple. You'll see.
- You'll see. - Not that.
You did promise.
You said yes. You gave me your word.
You are not going to go back on your promise, like a little girl.
- Listen... - Do it for me. Please.
We're here. It's ridiculous.
Come on.
Let me go. I don't want to.
It's an order. Let's go.
- We're here. - I'm so ashamed.
Go this way.
You're the new girl?
What are you waiting for? You're next.
That's it, you are obeying me.
You are tolerating what goes against your nature the most.
You used to rebel under my gaze...
the gaze of the man you loved...
and now every gaze is on you.
I was overwhelmed
with the pleasure I felt watching Hélène lose the battle.
I was wondering if she was holding out for the sake of our love...
or if, in her shame, she found this as pleasurable as I did.
She was all I could think about.
It was probably the first time it happened.
I was going crazy...
crazy with pleasure.
Hélène, I want to marry you.
Your stories about women are getting on my nerves.
I wish you were unhappy.
- I am. - Of course not!
You just don't know what to do.
I wish you were sick,
stuck in the jungle and covered with flies!
I would swat them away.
It's not possible anyway, since I hate the heat...
except in the winter, of course.
- You fascinate me, Clara. - Shut the fuck up!
So, will you marry Marianne or Hélène?
Tell me how you got back together with Marianne.
Once you managed to subjugate Hélène, you got bored with her, right?
On the contrary, I was taken by her.
The following day, we left on a trip together.
And you found Marianne.
Indeed.
Doesn't it mean anything for us to reunite here?
It probably does.
It means we should never be apart again.
Yes.
When you think of it,
it is quite odd that a man your age shouldn't be married.
What about my age?
I'm not the only one.
So we were meant to be married, right?
Yes, exactly.
The thought of marriage disgusts you, doesn't it?
- No, but you know... - You think
that the best relationships are the superficial ones.
Yes, I do.
You're probably right.
Do you know why those relationships are superficial?
- No. - Because they are open.
Yes.
I think it's called the "Panther 2."
What "Panther 2"?
That's the name of his boat.
Whose boat?
Bob's boat.
He's crazy about me.
He's been waiting for me for a week.
Poor guy.
What...
So, good bye.
See you later.
Call me.
Come on, don't be stupid.
I am not stupid.
I am free.
Just like you. Just like him.
You don't want to marry me, do you?
- I don't know. - Neither does he.
He's just like you. He wants to love me.
- What a good idea. - I forbid you...
You have no right!
Be reasonable.
And don't just stand here. You look stupid.
And I don't like that...
my love.
You suffered.
I like that.
So what about Marianne?
How did you decide you wanted to marry her?
First of all, I was tired of Hélène and her wedding.
I managed to push the date back.
I was resigned to it,
but I managed to push the date and to pick a distant location.
I was like a prisoner who doesn't torture himself anymore,
who accepts his fate.
Put yourself in the shoes of a prisoner.
He is used to a certain routine,
then suddenly something happens, something unexpected.
Not something that could get him out, or grace him,
but something like a noise,
a smell,
a particular event.
For a prisoner, that one event means everything in the world,
and for me, that event was Marianne's phone call.
Made me jump out of my bed. She was in Megève.
She wanted to see me. She couldn't wait.
Of course she didn't say why. Marianne never explains anything.
I imagined her... I could see her...
I could hear her voice and see her body.
No woman has ever teased my imagination the way she did.
I wanted to be near her. I was as impatient as she was.
I imagined her, after hanging up the phone,
and I rushed to that body.
I had never forgotten her body
because her soul had remained an enigma for me.
I must say that the mere thought of Marianne's body
drove me insane
and that being near her was pure exaltation.
The thought of seeing her...
made me hope for happiness
in a way I never had.
She made everything in me more intense.
I was beside myself.
- That's ridiculous! - Not at all.
He's the first man who gave me the desire to be faithful.
Really?
Good, then.
Things were so great when I left you on that boat in Saint Tropez?
- Tell me! - I don't want to.
- Do tell! - No.
Let go of me.
I asked her questions.
The guy was some kind of tycoon
who went from one marina to the other.
At that moment, he was in America.
He called three times a day,
he telegraphed 10 times a day, he sent her huge letters,
and he was taking French and Swedish lessons!
He was insane. And so was I.
- Tell me! - I don't want to.
- Tell me. - No!
Let go of me! Let go of me.
Tell me! Tell me how it happened.
No!
You bitch!
He would go mad if he saw you here.
But he can't see me.
- Thankfully. - No.
When I left you in Saint Tropez, I knew.
Now he needs to know.
You are insane.
You want me to call him?
I do.
I had a crazy idea.
I was obsessed with her
and I told her what I wanted.
I wanted her to make him come back.
He was in the Bahamas or something.
I wanted her to make him come back as soon as possible,
- the next day. - Giving him what excuse?
A good one:
the truth, barely altered.
I wanted her to tell him she'd met a man in Megève
who was getting really close to her
and that she was afraid she wouldn't resist him very much longer,
that if he didn't show up the next day,
she was afraid something might happen.
It was a cry for help.
- But she refused to do it. - She did.
It was time for her morning phone call from that man.
Hello?
Is that you?
It snowed all night.
You have no idea how cold it is.
You are bare-chested?
I envy you!
- Bare-chested, you say? - Come on, Marianne.
Honey, I'm becoming a better skier just for you.
You say you wanted me to be a great skier.
Marianne.
Do it or not, but if you don't, I'm leaving right away!
No, I didn't get the letters two days ago.
I got them yesterday afternoon.
I read them both. They were delightful.
Marianne, if you do it, we'll get married.
If you do it, we'll get married.
Bob, I have to tell you something.
So everything went the way you wanted.
He arrived the next day.
You know, there's always an interval between a dream and its becoming true,
so he actually arrived two days later.
I was ready.
I had booked a room in another hotel,
he came in, he saw us...
- Making love? - Yes!
So which woman will you marry?
None of them. They are inseparable:
I loved one because of the other, and loved the other again because of the first one.
Choosing between them would be a crime.
So what you need is a third woman.
I already have one.
Why not?
Because I'm not in love with you.
I don't love you either.
I have a taste for you, and it's delightful.
What you really want is for me to help you.
That's how men are nowadays.
All they want is help.
I hate being useful to someone.
I don't want to.
Sorry, I forgot about the contract.
I don't give a crap about the contract! I might as well tear it up!
- Tear it up? - Yes! I want you to want to.
But I don't want to.
Hello? Yes.
A journalist?
Really?
Is she... I mean,
is she pretty? Is she young?
Really?
Well, send her up.
Clara...
- You want me to go for a walk. - You understand everything.
- Would you like some water? - What?
No... I mean, yes! No, thanks.
The Algerian War, the Vietnam War, the war in Biafra...
- Ice? - No.
Suez...
- Budapest... - Exactly: Suez, Budapest,
Prague, the famine in Africa and Asia...
You know, I'm not really to blame for those.
The question of Israel, the question of minorities...
Do you really think that my being a writer for 15 years generated those calamities?
You've been indifferent to all of those issues.
The conflicts of neo-capitalism and neo-Marxism,
the questions of decolonization, of the youth protests,
overpopulation, which in 20 years will be out of control
since the population will have doubled
while automation will have taken the jobs of half of it.
Where do you buy your glasses?
Instead of addressing the tragedies of your time,
you've wasted your time on women.
The question of women today is tricky.
They claim to be both free and oppressed,
demanding and traditional,
equal to men and protected by them.
There is less risk in addressing today's political issues
than to tackle today's women.
Tell me, what's your name?
Louise.
You know, Louise, your glasses...
some glasses can make your eyes look bigger,
but yours only make them look smaller.
How would you know?
May I?
Of course.
I am absolutely right.
I knew it for sure.
I liked you from the start.
I don't know why.
There are two women in you, aren't there?
First of all, I'm not in love with him.
Secondly, if I love him, I shouldn't go back.
Thirdly, he's a bastard.
Fourth, if I love him and go back,
I'll be miserable.
Fifth, I shouldn't go back whether I love him or not.
It's all the same.
Sixth, if I don't go back...
will that stupid little bastard leave me alone?!
Seventh, if I don't go back, I'll be miserable.
I'll be miserable anyway.
Eighth, I can be ready to be miserable
whether I stay with him or not.
Ninth, I'll be miserable longer if I stay with him,
because I love him.
It's quite simple.
I'll just tell her, "First of all,
I acted like a fool with that girl because I couldn't stop thinking of you.
I wasn't able to do anything with her.
Second, why wasn't I able to do anything with her?
Because her only flaw was that she wasn't you.
So this is where we stand: I love you. "
Are you mad at me?
I couldn't care less.
I tried to forget you.
But I couldn't.
- What's that? - I tried to forget you, but I couldn't.
That girl's one flaw was that she wasn't you.
You bastard.
So I told her, "I love Clara."
You don't love Clara.
You love women.
Help! Help!
You're here. You're really here.
I am safe now. I love you.
What, Marianne?
You knew everything?
You knew everything about Hélène?
No, you're mistaken.
If I do marry someone, it will be neither you nor her.
Of course I know.
The only thing I don't know is whether she wants to or not.
Of course not!
I'm no bastard.
You can't decide when you love or stop loving someone.
Of course, it's...
as you wish.
Take care.
Listen... hello?
She hung up.
Good for her.
- How about Hélène? - I called her first.
I went alphabetically.
Do you know what we're going to do?
We're going to the beach!
I'll never forget you.
She loved me and she left me.
Why? She believed
that I was unable to bring her happiness.
Her judgment was merciless.
She knew too much about me.
That's why she left.
After she left,
I understood
there was one thing left for me to do:
forget about women. Which I did.
I'm through with women!
Are you sure?
- Yes. - Really?
Yes.
Well, I think so.
That's my feeling right now.
In any case, you can type "the end."