Almost Peaceful Page #2

Do you like my dress?

You tell me to buy a dress I like

but do you like me in it?

I could alter

the skirt and the neckline,

but it really suits you.

No, I like it as it is.

I'll wear it to the choir tonight.

It's the second Thursday

of the month.

You can do something too.

Or maybe...

ask Madame Andree out.

Madame Andree!

Will you have dinner with Albert?

I'd love to.

What can we talk about?

Work? Children?

That's all we ever do!

You don't go out

to say what you say here.

I'd have finished "Anna Karenina"

by next Thursday.

We could have had

an interesting conversation.

But tonight...

- I'll have the set menu.

- Me too.

Some wine?

- Do you drink wine, Monsieur Albert?

- Do you, Madame Andree?

- The Cotes-du-Rhone looks good.

- Very good.

- Have you read "Anna Karenina"?

- No.

Neither have I.

A pity.

We could have talked about it.

Monsieur Albert,

I have a lot of things to tell you.

You know I have a sister in Orleans?

She has a child now.

During the war,

at the age of 17 she fell in love.

With a soldier.

A German.

Who bothers about the uniform

at that age?

They were young and carefree.

When the Americans arrived,

he panicked and fled.

My sister was left alone

with the baby.

We all had our own war.

It was worse

at the Liberation.

She had to walk naked in the street

with other naked women

whose heads were shaved.

And my mother ran behind,

trying to cover her with a coat.

My father almost died of shame.

Some people died

of much worse than shame.

I heard from her this morning.

When Lea suggested this dinner,

I saw it as an opportunity.

Staying in Orleans isn't a life.

Everyone knows her.

She'd like to come to Paris.

She could work in tailoring like me.

She's very brave, you know.

Shed get to work fast.

Her hair's grown back now.

So...

I wanted to ask you...

I can't, Madame Andree...

Even after all this time...

I'm spoiling dinner.

I just realized

look like that pretty actress...

But I'm nothing like Jean Gabin.

We spend a nice evening

because life is short

but a simple letter...

And I didn't know

what to talk about.

That reminds me of a song.

I won't sing it,

not in a French restaurant.

A Jewish restaurant

wouldn't be any change from home.

Sing it to me softly.

I'll translate

because it's in Yiddish.

"Life tells me a story

Of sin, love and punishment

"And sometimes life tells me

A story without an ending."

Now, I'll whistle the tune for you.

Was it you last time?

Yes.

My name's Simone.

Maurice.

See you again?

Bye.

Go to sleep. Sammy.

Mummy's next door.

Are you asleep?

Hello, Madame Rebaur!

It's all in good condition.

Thank you. People will be glad

of your mother's things.

I hope so. I must dash

to get Sammy to his childminder.

Everything okay?

I had a bad night.

Sammy was feverish.

He's at the childminder's anyway

but she won't take him tomorrow

if there's no change.

I don't know what I'll do.

Bring him.

He can have Raphael's bed.

Thank you!

I was hoping you'd say that.

A second child will keep you busy.

In September,

Sammy goes to nursery school.

Does he know that?

He understands

he's big enough to go to school.

Never tell a child he's big.

A child's a child.

He has to learn

his responsibilities.

- At the age of 4, I...

- Only parents are responsible!

What does "big" mean anyway?

Tying your own shoelaces?

Eating alone like a grown-up?

Why did you want a child

during the war?

Did we really want him?

Leon, did you really want Sammy?

If I hadn't,

I'd have done differently.

But separate rooms

didn't suit me so...

We didn't know what would happen.

We had Sammy,

had him circumcised

and Leon joined the Resistance.

But that's how you recognize a Jew!

If his life was going to be short,

at least it would be Jewish.

It's hard to explain

but I'm not ashamed of being Jewish!

That anti-Semite downstairs again!

I know, it was quieter before!

Terrible, isn't it?

You hear Jews now!

You even see families of them

along the boulevards.

They celebrate circumcision,

and even a baby daughter

means a celebration with cakes

and Slimovitz!

You'll get your invitation soon!

You're learning, Joseph.

No harm done.

You won't make that mistake again

but I'm afraid you'll make others.

Your heart, Monsieur Albert,

careful with your heart!

You have a tender Jewish heart.

The best medicine for the heart

is peace and tranquility.

No more films, no more plays,

stay out of bars,

never go out after 8 p. m.,

sit quietly at home,

waiting for the police to call.

Leon's acting!

Footsteps on the stairs,

a knock, my heart pounds...

I've found a better solution:

no more worries, total rest.

I'm in a transit camp.

Everything's fine and dandy.

He's started rehearsals.

To perform what?

O what?

We don't know. No one speaks Yiddish

well enough. Except for me.

I remember the show

after Paris was liberated.

People were so glad to be together,

the show never took place.

Every night, the actors

tried to perform,

but the audience never shut up.

The worst thing is when the audience

hushes you up

because they can't hear each other.

"We're free!"

"I paid for my seat!"

"My son was in the Resistance!"

And we actors waited our turn.

What a joke.

I remember if an actor sings,

the audience weeps. Even more now.

Leon, why don't you act

instead of pressing clothes?

The pay's the same if I act

on stage or in the workshop.

The off-season's long

on stage nowadays.

It's the workshop's off-season.

Why did you hire us?

You're good,

I want you for the season.

And I should have time

to train Joseph.

Good evening.

My turn to mend it.

Good evening, Monsieur Albert.

Maurice,

since this is the off-season,

would you make me a winter coat?

I already have the wool.

I'll pay you, of course.

Mechanics and finishers

often set up shop together.

When. The finisher

understands Jewish humor, that is.

You're awake, poppet?

Give me a kiss.

Go to your mummy!

Ungrateful imp!

Half the night by his bed.

Know what Raphael has written

this week?

"Nothing special to say.

"The cakes got here

but they crushed in the post.

"We ate them anyway.

"Betty hates it when you write

to her on my letters.

"She wants a letter

all for herself."

Our children are demanding.

That's good.

He's in a mood

because there was a party

at the childminder's today

and he can't go.

Listen. In a distant land,

there lived a little boy

called Samuel.

One day, Samuel fell ill.

A real illness, not like yours,

an illness that drove his parents

mad with worry:

Samuel couldn't breathe anymore.

They hunted out the best doctor

and wrote to him:

"We're tailors,

our Samuel can't breathe anymore."

He wrote back:
"Come to see me

with bag of buttons."

Buttons, then.

You have buttons?

Your buttons.

A button. Thank you.

And the doctor cured Samuel

with a button just like this one.

He attached the button to his neck

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