All language subtitles for The Vixen (Les Femmes) 1969-subrip-en

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 7 100 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."

"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.

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."