Belle

But did you know that Dostoyevsky

came to Spa to gamble, not to write?

A mad life.

A mad voice.

And in the peat moors of Wallonia

we hear another voice.

The even more famed voice of Apollinaire

whose words ring in our memory :

'Overwhelming grief'

"Strangled my heart

in the desolate fens"

"Life twists itself around strong trees"

"Life takes bites of death by degrees"

Thank you for your attention.

Thank you very much.

Will you be publishing those poems?

No, they're by Apollinaire.

- Shame.

Bravo, Mathieu, it was wonderful.

Victor is taking me home.

- See you tomorrow.

Why your interest in the fens?

- My father was from the fens.

Have you written much about them?

- Yes, all my life.

Where will it be published?

- I have a publisher in Liege.

You're miles away.

I wonder if I ran over an animal

this evening.

On the Grande Fagne moors.

What were you doing there?

I felt like driving around.

Did Victor take you home?

He found your examples remarkable.

When we drove through Verviers,

he asked me if I'd like a drink.

Redcurrants or raspberries?

- Cherries, Marie.

He drives on the left

when he's been drinking so I said :

"Let's have a drink at home

and wait for Mathieu."

Why do you always wear brown stockings?

- Because you like them.

It's the other guy who likes them.

I prefer light stockings.

- That's news to me.

Brown stockings are aggressive

and common.

Light stockings are distinguished.

Everyone knows that.

Some more brown bread?

It's not brown bread.

It's sourdough bread from Stoumont.

White bread is distinguished.

Sourdough bread is common.

Everyone knows that.

Did the other guy teach you that?

- Bread and stockings, it's the same.

Mad. She's out of her mind.

It's dripping, Jeanne.

- OK, it's dripping...

I'll finish this first.

Otherwise I can't control

the sugar to milk ratio.

I've been saying this for twenty years.

Mind the drip.

What did Victor want?

I asked him in. As you know...

- Yes, he drives on the left.

So you let him in.

Yes, he wanted to show me his module.

- His module?

Did Victor show you his module?

Quiet, or she'll never finish the story.

Milk?

He wanted to show me the new module

for the Town Council.

Are you listening?

- Of course.

Will you take me or can I have the car?

Here.

What a night, eh?

There. Now eat. Eat.

I feel very well.

We're meeting at eleven, remember?

We're meeting at eleven.

- Go and choose furniture.

You won't lose everything.

I'm leaving my cat behind.

You can keep your cat,

because you don't have another one.

Okay, okay.

Can I have the car for 10 minutes?

- When we get to the museum.

Could it have been a dream?

- Tell me, Marie...

Yes?

You could wear long skirts. You don't

have to show your thighs to the world.

John likes it.

- "John likes it".

Are you going to find the animal?

Do you know where it is?

It can't have gone far.

Come along, they're waiting for me.

Good morning, Vincent.

- Mr Victor is here.

Where is he?

- In the archive.

He's lost in the archive.

I'm not in for anyone, Vincent.

I've a problem with my anthology

of legends from the Ardennes.

I'd like your opinion.

In the archive of Verviers

I found an original act from 1813.

It's so extraordinary

that I wonder if I should include it

in the historical section.

I know.

What do you know?

Jeanne told me everything.

- Everything?

That you are awful

and that you drive on the left.

She's confused.

She's mixing things up.

Listen, this is my problem.

"ln memory of the late brothers

Henri and Renard,

wretchedly murdered at the

unspeakable place that is Pont Noir,

I, Martin le Podestat, their father,

have had written, in their memory..."

However, Henri had the reputation

of being unspeakable himself

because of the evil eye.

He died when he drowned

in a pool at Pont Noir.

But then... do you follow me?

Why does their father say

"wretchedly murdered"?

It's contradictory, you see?

I've never liked modern art.

Is this dog yours?

Don't be afraid.

I am sorry about last night.

I didn't see him.

It was a sharp bend.

I thought I had hit a deer.

You're not from around here?

No, wait, I want to help you.

You can't leave the dog like that.

If you're scared...

Damn.

Look, here...

How did it go in Liege?

Extraordinary. Yes.

Extraordinary.

"Gales and gusts

Trapped in the hollows of the dead fens"

"And undone in..."

"Gales and gusts", superb alliteration.

One of my colleagues in Verviers

said to me only last night :

"Of all the poets of the fen,

Mathieu Gregoire has the finest pen."

That's nice, eh?

And then :
"Creature of the moors

Girl as dark as night"

So simple, so sublime.

Allow me to tell you, Jeanne...

- Don't hold back, Victor.

Without you, this source

would be less bountiful.

That's beautifully put.

Just one more. Here.

The more so since the book is dedicated

to Marie, and without me, Marie...

We chose the furniture this morning.

- She's still not back.

Victor, you must have thought

of something for your presentation.

I was talking to Jeanne about it.

If I may...

You may, Victor.

He was thinking of something modern.

Russian writers. Tolstoy and so on.

Solzhe... Solzhenitsyn. His traditional

side, his revolutionary side...

Our audience...

- Jeanne, the plum liqueur?

Our audience is a fairly mixed one.

We have to find the modulus.

And it's a good thing that...

Drenched.

I am drenched.

"ln bitter gall and deadly poison."

Sorry?

"The sweetness of love is drenched

in bitter gall and deadly poison."

Maurice Sceve, sixteenth century.

I'm going to discuss Louise Labe.

Labe?

The Beautiful Rope Maker

lover of ice and fire.

Sixteenth-century sonnets.

"l live, I die, I burn and I drown."

"Labbe", did you say?

- One "B".

Aren't you afraid that's too obscure

for most people?

Physical love is their bread and butter.

This is delicious.

Sour plums from our own garden.

Distilled in the abbey.

- No, no more.

You're on foot today.

- That's true.

Well, I'm going to say goodbye,

dear friends.

They can wait a little longer.

- I have no one waiting for me.

I was suddenly thinking...

Who will be reading

Louise Labe's poems? An actress?

You could find an actress, Victor.

I'll get an actress from Liege then,

to prevent local jealousy.

Goodnight, dear Jeanne.

"Gales and gusts"

"Trapped in the hollows of dead forests"

Mathieu...

Sometimes I miss teaching.

Don't forget the actress.

She's still not back.

- She'll come.

Can't they just take the last train?

- You know they like to take the road.

We can't sit and wait for her all night.

She has her key.

I have to wait and lock up.

I've done that for fifteen years.

In my own house.

And it's over with Victor.

Victor?

Do you think I'm blind?

"May I say, my dear Jeanne..."

To your hands and your eyes

I hold no surprise

Marie knows what she's doing.

And John is not a bad young man.

Don't look so worried.

Go to sleep. I'll join you later.

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