Original subtitles

SIX MORAL TALES

2. SUZANNE'S CAREER

The Café le Luco on Boulevard St. Michel

was where we met Suzanne.

I lived above it, in the Hôtel de I'Observatoire.

I was 18 and in my first year of pharmaceutical school.

Bertrand.

Hello. Sit here.

May I take this chair, miss?

How are you?

I promessi sposi.

Sounds like you know Italian.

Are you at the Sorbonne?

More or less. I take evening classes

at the interpreters' school at the Sorbonne.

During the day I work

at the National Tuberculosis Foundation over there.

You like it?

You can't always do what you like. And you?

Hey, Martine!

Martine Bachelet.

Suzanne Hocquetot.

- Have a drink? - Thanks, but I'm meeting someone.

I didn't get your name. Was it Anne?

No. Suzanne... sadly.

Why sadly? You're not a snob, are you?

No, but I don't like my name.

- It's better than Suzon. - Jerk.

I'm Guillaume Peuch-Drummond.

- I'm Suzanne Hocquetot. - With an H?

- And T-O-T at the end. - Are you from Normandy?

Yes. You?

No, but I study onomastics. Know what that is?

- The science of names? - Proper names.

Give me any name, and I'll tell you...

Will you have a car Saturday?

...where it's from, its etymology.

Will you have the car?

No, my mother's in Paris till the 17th. Why?

- There's a party at Pfeiffer's. - I wouldn't go anyway.

- Why? - Because.

I'm giving a dinner Saturday. Will you come?

What about you?

Why not? Where is it?

Bourg-la-Reine. I'll come pick you up.

Do you like paella?

I'm not sure I've ever tried it.

I do it pretty well. Do you live with your parents?

No, with some people near Porte de Clichy.

But I'm hardly ever there.

I'm in class till 10:00 p.m., and I get up at 7:00.

And Sundays?

I work on my Italian, usually in a café.

It's nicer.

Nothing's worse than staying home alone on a Sunday.

It's not even my home.

Guillaume usually worked fast,

but Suzanne held out until that dinner.

- Where've you been? - I've had a lot of work.

Hurry up. I'm illegally parked.

I may not go. I'm behind in my work.

- I like people who keep promises. - I didn't promise.

You did. You heard him.

I'll bring you home at midnight.

You always say that.

I have to bring Suzanne home too. Come on.

Oh, all right.

Who'll be there?

Jean-Louis, Catherine, François, Philippe and your girlfriend.

- Who? - Sophie.

- I don't even know her. - But you're sweet on her.

Oh, she's not bad.

If he says she's not bad, she's fantastic.

You saw her.

The other day at the bar. The Irish girl.

She's lovely.

You really have good taste.

Who's Jean-Louis?

The guy at the café the other day. Smokes a pipe.

Most of the year,

Guillaume lived alone in the house, as his mother was traveling.

- It was extraordinary. - Nothing beats a good chateaubriand.

- You like Chinese food? - It's terrible!

- Why? - It makes me sick.

I go to a Chink restaurant quite often.

Suzanne took her role as lady of the house seriously,

but Guillaume went straight after Sophie

and seemed set on breaking down her resistance.

I kept philosophically to my corner,

but I could sense Suzanne was on the verge of tears.

I thought any minute she'd grab her coat and run to the station,

for I sensed she still had some self-respect.

Want a cigarette?

You okay? You're not very talkative tonight.

Sophie intimidated me.

Guillaume was helping me out by monopolizing her.

I hoped he'd go too far and be put down,

but he was careful.

What a fantastic player.

I saw him on TV in England, when he won at Wimbledon, but -

It's totally abstract.

Like Mondrian.

Bertrand.

Going to the kitchen?

Bring the bottle of Sylvaner, please.

- Where is it? - By the fireplace.

- By the window? - That's right.

- How's Sophie? - You're always with her.

Just to piss the other one off. Is she sulking?

Suzanne? A bit. She's entitled.

Good. The easy-looking ones are murder. It drags on and on.

Anyway, I think she's about ready now, don't you?

Yes, maybe.

Sophie's too stuck up for me. But you've got a chance.

Do what you want. She's not mine.

I swear, she likes you. You can always tell.

What was I going to say?

You've got to do me a little favor.

When the others leave, the three of us will stay.

Wouldn't be decent for me to be alone with her.

If you like. You know...

Bertrand could squeeze in with us.

No, thanks. Good-bye.

I have to take Suzanne home anyway.

So the three of us stayed.

Happy back in his arms, Suzanne forgot the time.

I began to get impatient.

- Bertrand can make tables move. - Really?

Bertrand, is that really true? - Yes.

You could make that one move now? Really?

I don't believe it.

Suzanne, you stay there.

Put your hands here.

Flatten them out. Touch my fingers.

Now we have to concentrate. Don't move.

Relax.

Very, very relaxed.

Don't think about anything. Let go.

Come on, Suzanne!

Quiet.

- Should I - - Quiet!

I think it's starting.

Very good.

Let's summon the spirit.

Spirit, are you there?

One. That's a yes.

Who are you?

D? Danton?

Let's go on.

D-O?

Doumergue?

Bertrand, you're pushing.

It's not me. It's the spirit.

D-O-N?

D-O-N-J? Must be Don Juan.

What does Don Juan say?

Hey, it's a T.

Let's go on.

I, M, N, O - O?

B?

B, C, D, E.

To bed? Hey, it's "to bed."

Bertrand, you're so crude!

Guillaume, that's going too far.

I'm really tired.

I can't face taking you home.

You can stay. The two of us will sleep here,

and you can use my mother's room.

You know where it is?

Well, good night.

Ah, women...

Then, having bowed to convention, he rushed to join her.

I should really go console her.

The next day I was up with the first light of day.

I'd already spent a Sunday at Bourg-la-Reine,

and Guillaume would certainly have asked me to stay,

happy to have an audience for his triumph.

But I felt my role had lasted long enough.

Sleep hadn't begun to dispel

the shame I'd felt all evening

at playing along with my friend's game.

Not that Suzanne's conduct mattered to me.

It was her business and hers alone.

But I saw the sly pleasure he took in involving me in his schemes.

For he loved to surround everything he did,

no matter how banal, with an air of wickedness.

However, at the time I rather idolized him...

and accepted him for what he was.

And he did the same for me, which I found flattering.

A week later, I saw him on the Boulevard St. Michel.

- Where've you been? - What about you?

What's up? - Oh, problems.

Suzanne?

She calls me all the time.

I always get stuck with these clinging types. Have you seen her?

Once or twice. We didn't say much.

- Did she mention me? - No. It was very brief.

She said she'd call.

He didn't really seem that anxious to break up.

I have a date with Suzanne tonight.

I thought you'd split up.

A moment of weakness. Want to come?

What for? Anyway, I've got work to do.

Come on, damn it! I have money to blow.

Okay. Come pick me up.

We went dancing at a club on the Right Bank.

Suzanne, happy again,

made me her confidant,

a role I didn't care much for.

Her giggles and way of acting irritated me no end.

I had nothing special against her.

I simply hated her,

as I did all Guillaume's conquests.

He went after the easy ones, and, to my knowledge,

he'd never set his sights on a girl I thought worthy of him.

Back then I had a high regard for his talents as a seducer.

The next day, Sunday, Guillaume called me after lunch.

Hello. Guillaume?

I'm bored. Want to come for tea?

We'll play some music.

Look, I've really got a lot of work.

Come on. Come around 5.00.

I'll drive you home at 7.00.

- Some more tea, Bertrand? - Please.

- Guillaume? - No, thanks.

Where did you put Diary of a Thief?

Over there.

Hey, cut it out!

Don't pout. It was just a joke.

I don't like jokes in bad taste.

If I had good taste, I wouldn't like you.

Well, what counts is that you like me.

I'm beginning to wonder.

If you don't, there are plenty of others who do.

Pimply-faced kids.

Not at all. As good as you. Better, even.

The girl's no dummy. She can hold her own.

Hold on, Bertrand. I want to ask you a question.

Suzanne, come here.

Come on!

Bertrand's the best friend I've ever had.

Stop blushing, damn it.

Sorry. Are you in love with him?

That's not very flattering. - Idiot.

- Suppose he came on to you. - He didn't.

But just suppose. What if he'd thrown himself at you?

- It's not his style. - How do you know?

He could have come on to you. Would you have let him?

I don't think so. Bertrand's a great guy,

but I have very set ideas.

What about you? If Suzanne -

Let's just say I have set ideas too.

You're both such snobs.

Bertrand I can see. But you're so pretentious.

- What about you? - That's different.

Don't you think she's a snob?

Not at all. On the contrary.

Well, of course, she's a bit dumb.

But she can be both. Stay here!

- Not for this nonsense. - I say what I think.

Bertrand, don't you think she's a bit pushy?

- Not at all. - You've said so.

- You're crazy. - Come on.

- Why? - It's pretty obvious.

Evidence disallowed. Debate closed.

Sentence carried out.

Idiot!

Jerk!

You keep getting me into these things.

Just as well. I've been trying to ditch her for two weeks.

Sure, her body's not bad,

but she has my mother's name. That gets me.

Want me to take you home?

That's kind.

- You could say good-bye. - Farewell.

"Farewell, young lass, farewell.

Your smile shines in our eyes."

Listen, I didn't mean anything.

Do you forgive me? Can you forgive me? Really?

Answer me.

Waiting for Suzanne, I began to transfer the anger

I'd built up towards Guillaume to her.

I could see I'd been stupid to worry about her.

She deserved what she got.

Guillaume was too nice.

I'm catching the train.

So long.

Her total lack of dignity justified the scorn

I'd shown all along for her looks and behavior.

I tried hard to avoid her, but she sought me out.

How are you?

All right.

Sit down. You're not in a hurry? - Yes, I am.

Okay, but I have to leave soon. I'm expecting a call.

Are you really?

What do you want?

Coffee.

Someone was asking about you. - Who?

Sophie.

We had lunch the other day. She's really a nice girl.

Really? I hardly know her.

Going to the dance?

No, I have work to do.

That much? Just this once.

- And I'm broke. - If that's all, I'll pay.

Please, I just got paid. - I said no.

Come on. Do me a favor. And Sophie'll be there.

No, I couldn't.

I'll lend you the money. Pay me back later. Okay?

All right, if you like.

Good.

We found Sophie in the crowd without too much trouble.

She was charming at first.

It was the first time we'd really talked.

- You know Guillaume well? - He's my best friend.

Funny, you're really very different.

Not really. We have a lot of the same ideas.

But my shyness was paralyzing. The spark didn't catch fire.

Suzanne carried on with one ugly guy after another.

Sophie left me after a while,

accepting all offers with a goodwill I found irritating.

She got lost in the crowd,

and I found myself at 3.00 a.m. alone with Suzanne.

She told me her woes, which were much like mine.

I don't care about Guillaume. It's over between us, you know.

He's an intelligent boy,

but he can be so stupid about some things.

He's really more dumb than mean.

Luckily, I'm a nice person.

But sooner or later, he'll run up against someone -

The next day, Guillaume was waiting for me after class.

So, bastard, poaching in my territory?

You were seen at the dance. - Oh, that.

- Did she mention me? - Not at all.

Careful. She's smarter than you think.

- I'll manage. - She got you to take her.

No, she paid.

No kidding! She footed the bill? This is fantastic!

That opens up whole worlds. We'll drive her to ruin.

Suzanne! It's been ages. How are you?

Very well.

I'm so glad to see you.

May I?

I'm leaving in five minutes.

I hear you've been flirting. Very naughty of you.

And with my best friend.

Damn, I'm broke tonight. Can you get mine?

- Bertrand, let me. - No, don't be silly.

I can treat you if I like.

Sure, if you want to.

For the next two or three weeks,

we deliberately lived off Suzanne.

I hoped she'd tell us off, but she didn't,

and it became less fun every day.

Guillaume finally left to visit his mother.

But Suzanne kept after me.

Are you snubbing me?

I was upstairs. I waved. - I didn't see.

Got a minute? I've got something to tell you. Wait upstairs.

When are we going out?

I don't have time these days.

If it's a question of money, don't worry.

Well, precisely. It does bother me.

You're so bourgeois.

Maybe so. So ask someone else out.

If I wanted to be asked out, I'd have no trouble.

I'm always turning people down.

Does it bother you that I prefer you?

I finally agreed.

As I was getting ready, Guillaume showed up.

How are things? Where've you been?

I was in Menton.

My mother remarried. She's moving there.

Are you keeping the apartment?

What's up tonight? You going out?

I'll take you to dinner. I've got money.

- No, thanks. I'm busy. - Suzanne?

You can tell me. Is it?

You two in love? - Come on.

- You'll be bored stiff. Take me along. - Forget it.

I know. Where're you going? Maître Paul's?

You're a pain in the ass.

I'll run into you by accident.

If she makes a fuss, you pay for me.

I'll pay you back.

It's the least you can do. I want to have some fun tonight.

And if she asked you to Maître Paul's, she hopes to see me.

Maybe we should get

a lobster casserole.

All right. Why not?

Hold on, while I think of it.

Will that be enough?

And for an appetizer?

You're following me everywhere.

Not much of a hiding place.

We're not hiding. Have you had dinner?

Sit down. Be my guest.

No, thanks.

Suzanne doesn't want me to.

- Don't be silly. - Be honest.

I am being honest.

While Guillaume was on the phone,

Suzanne handed me 10 more francs. I refused.

- No, I invited him. - You're broke.

No more than you. Go on. Put it away.

Okay, but I'll take you both to the club.

You'll go broke.

That's my problem.

Come on. Let's go.

- What about Suzanne? - No lectures.

Go on, move it.

I don't think I can drive.

Come over if you like.

But I knew our sneaking out had been futile.

The next day at noon,

the inescapable Suzanne pounced on me.

How's Guillaume? Did he sleep it off?

Yes, at my place. He's still groggy.

Anyway, the party's over.

It's only the 12th and I'm broke.

- You have enough for food? - No, but I'll get by.

I've got some meal tickets.

I'm having lunch with a friend, a girl who works here.

You know, it's a good thing you both left last night.

I met a wonderful guy. A Scotsman.

Really a great guy. We're seeing each other tonight.

Congratulations.

You can tell Guillaume.

I spent that Easter with my family.

I'd just gotten back and was unpacking,

hiding 400 francs my parents had given me for a suit,

when Guillaume knocked.

- Who is it? - It's me. Can I come in?

I thought I'd find you.

Have a good vacation? - I slept. You?

Fantastic! It's amazing the number of pretty girls in Menton.

Just before I left, I met a really sensational one.

One of the prettiest, from Paris. She'll be back in two days.

Problem is, I don't have money to take her out.

My car broke down. Can you lend me 100 or 200 francs?

- I don't have it. - I get a money order Monday.

You just saw your parents.

Then send me money week by week.

- You don't have 100 francs? - No, I just paid my rent.

It's for me.

Bertrand? It's Suzanne.

How are you? Did you have a good vacation?

- Good. And you? - Let's get together.

You going to Daniel's party next Thursday?

Sophie'll be there. Come on.

I have an exam the next day.

Well, okay.

See, I think about you.

Thanks.

How's your Englishman?

Oh, he left. He wasn't all that interesting anyway.

I bet that was Suzanne.

Have you seen her since?

Once or twice, before vacation.

- With her Englishman? - You know about him?

I certainly do.

Anyway, she learned her lesson. The guy split.

Admit it: You lied. It was her, wasn't it?

- I said it wasn't. - You're lying.

- Stop being a pain. - It was a girl. That's obvious.

Sophie, if you must know. Happy now?

Go on, man. Charge! Girls love to be forced.

That may be.

But some things I'll only take from Guillaume.

He can get away with them. - I wouldn't take anything from him.

I hate these mama's boys who play tough. It doesn't suit him.

- It's a phase. - That's the problem.

It's pure snobbery, and I hate snobs.

He's no snob.

What have you got against him anyway? You don't know him.

- I've heard a lot about him. - Suzanne?

Yes, Suzanne. Precisely.

She should stop chasing after him.

You really talk like a child.

How are you? You look tired.

A little bit.

I'm such an idiot. I bought shoes a size too small.

That was silly!

Well, you know, I had to buy them.

You never have to!

And they're hideous too.

Then why did you buy them?

I just did. There weren't very many.

What do you mean?

Well, there weren't, and they were all really ugly.

Next time you come shopping with me.

Got a second, Bertrand? I have to talk to you.

Could you lend me 10 francs for a taxi?

Sure.

I forgot to grab some money again.

Ask Sophie.

No, not her, of all people.

What about what's-his-name?

I'd rather not. I owe him money.

You've really been living it up.

Didn't you know? I quit my job.

What do you live on?

Doesn't anyone have a car? - He does.

Jean-Louis.

But I'd rather not. Oh, well, why not?

We could stop by my place. You mind walking?

Thanks, but you'd have to climb those stairs twice.

I don't mind.

There aren't any taxis where you live.

I'd be scared out there alone.

I'd go with you.

If you don't mind, I could come to your place.

I won't talk.

I'll curl up and read in an armchair.

Okay, but we have to be quiet going in.

Protecting your reputation?

As soon as we arrived, she sat in the armchair.

- Darn. - What?

I tore my skirt again. Do you have a pin?

Better than that: needle and thread.

Terrific.

Trouble is, this is my only presentable skirt.

- What about the dress at the dance? - I borrowed that.

Anyway, I couldn't wear it every day.

I don't suppose you'd have a thimble?

You don't need one.

Look, I'm not pushing. I'm pulling.

Oh, boys!

All right. I get it. - Then do it yourself.

I may be a boor,

but I can only sleep in my bed,

and I have an exam tomorrow.

That's okay. I'm fine.

I'm really furious at myself

for being taken in by that dumb salesgirl.

I really can't wear these shoes,

and I don't have any others.

Take them back.

I can't. I've already worn them for two days.

And I broke my last 10-franc bill today.

- Things are really bad. - Yes, they are.

I'd lend you some, but I have a dentist's bill.

If you could wait until next month.

Please, Bertrand. You're very sweet, but I'll be all right.

I'm really embarrassed. You spent everything on me.

If I did, it was because I wanted to.

We had some great times, didn't we?

That's what counts.

I can always find money. I just have to look for it.

You know, what I'd like is a part-time job.

Anyway, I think I'll head for Italy soon.

I'm tired of all these little Frenchmen.

Handsome men there, they say.

It's funny. I've never met a boy I liked.

Not a one.

You're too hard to please.

And you aren't?

Whatever you might think, I never took Guillaume seriously,

even if I was a little bit in love with him.

I'll tell you, you're the only one I can stand.

You're a real louse, but we understand each other.

Other guys just want to sleep with you, and then it's "so long."

I know 10 guys who'd do anything for you.

- Who? - I don't know. Jean-Louis, François.

If that's the best you can offer -

No, you're the only one I like.

I'm relaxed with you.

You know, it's rare to find a guy like you,

who doesn't pester girls.

- I'm selective. - Thanks.

Sorry, it slipped out.

You can be so stupid sometimes.

- What? - Nothing.

Believe me, I wish you all the best.

I never doubted it.

- How's your love life? - Not great.

Listen, you've got to take things in hand.

Girls like to be forced.

Another of Guillaume's theories.

- He knows. - Not necessarily. Not always.

With a girl like Sophie, you can't hold back.

She's on the defensive, but it's a façade.

She has to be, with all those boys around her.

- I know what I'm doing. - You're funny.

Fine. You know, I'm not as nice as I seem.

I know. I know you. I know you very well.

If we know each other so well, why all this talk?

Suzanne, I'm leaving in five minutes.

Suzanne, come on.

May I do your room now?

No, I'd rather you waited till 11.00.

Are you listening?

Wait for me until 11:00.

You're going out?

No, I'll be back in a minute. Come at 11.00.

"I have to leave. Have to meet someone."

Have you seen Suzanne?

She was here half an hour ago.

- You know her address? - You'd know better than me.

Try Guillaume.

Sophie? It's Bertrand.

- Did your exam go well? - Yes. I think so.

I slept all morning.

I wasn't so lucky.

I need to ask you: Do you have Suzanne's address?

No, she lives near Clichy. Guillaume must know.

I can't reach him.

- Is it urgent? - Very.

Will you be seeing her?

Maybe. She calls me almost every day.

Any message? - Yes. I mean -

I have to go. Meet me tomorrow afternoon.

At 4:00?

Yes. Bye, Bertrand. See you tomorrow.

This unhoped-for date cooled my anger.

Sophie's attitude toward me had changed radically,

though she offered nothing more than friendship.

But it was a step forward, and her school was nearby,

which made meeting easier.

I almost lodged a complaint at the hotel, but that would mean -

You don't want them to know you bring girls up.

Anyway, I'm sure it wasn't her.

- I'm sure it was. - It could have been anyone.

In a hotel, you know, the maid -

Definitely not.

One of your pals? Guillaume?

Him again!

Why not? You think he'd have any scruples?

For something like that, yes. And I never left him alone.

No, it wasn't him. That's not his style.

He bankrupted Suzanne.

That's different. He was having fun.

Some fun. He's leading you around by the nose.

You're crazy.

Was it Guillaume? I only saw him twice all term.

He had a lot of work, and so did I.

I couldn't tell him about the theft for fear of his sarcastic comments.

Besides, he'd just deny it.

Anyway, I preferred to think Suzanne was guilty

than to suspect Guillaume,

whose dirty tricks had never been aimed at me before.

What makes me think it's not Guillaume

is the 100 francs left in the book.

And it was pretty clumsy. More like Suzanne.

Basically, she was a nice girl.

Ah, so glad to hear it.

I've always said she was ugly, but -

Ugly. That's all you can say.

She's not ugly. Maybe not a classic beauty,

but she's very attractive and elegant.

She has lovely limbs, beautiful hands.

The quintessential young French girl.

Doesn't make me feel patriotic.

- And men find her attractive. - Not me.

- No wonder. You're just a kid. - So kids like you?

That's my cross to bear, yes.

Stop, or I'll get angry.

I'd decided never to ask Sophie about Suzanne again.

It was her who brought her up.

I guess I can tell you.

Suzanne's getting married.

- You've seen her? - She's been calling me.

Well, well.

To whom?

A fellow who - You know him.

Franck Schaller.

No, I can't place him.

He was at Guillaume's party that night.

He came with me. A tall guy with a cowlick.

So she stole him from you.

You idiot!

This unexpected conclusion

led me to seriously revise my thinking.

Until then, I'd only thought of Suzanne as Guillaume's victim.

But she didn't flatter his ego

as much as she brought out certain tendencies he kept quiet about.

There was a clear physical resemblance,

I finally began to see,

between all of Guillaume's girls.

They weren't ugly, as I'd said,

and similar less in face than in figure.

Dismissing tall girls like Sophie as storks,

Guillaume didn't try to justify

his attraction to small, plump women.

The year was ending.

While I was flunking my exams and losing Sophie,

Suzanne was happy.

Without even meaning to, she was mocking me.

This girl for whom I'd only managed to feel

a kind of shameful pity

was beating us all to the finish line

and showing us up to be

the children we were.

Innocent or guilty, naive or cunning,

what did it matter?

By depriving me of the right to pity her,

Suzanne had her true revenge.