Bonjour tristesse Page #7

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We know that your life with me has

not been suitable for your age or mine.

We've never been bored.

We won't be bored now. Anne's

not asking us to go into a convent.

I just came out and

you couldn't get in.

That's your opinion.

- Lf you want to make her happy...

- I do.

Then you have to give up

our old life.

Don't you think that after a while

we can gradually ease into it?

Don't.

Come on.

- That little tramp. She is.

- You threw her out.

- She walked out.

- You behaved abominably to her.

- You enjoy seeing her with Philippe?

- I don't love him.

- That's not the point.

- What is?

The point is, it doesn't make

any sense. With a boy. With a baby.

- I found him attractive.

- Lf I wanted her back...

- You couldn't.

- No?

You think I couldn't get her back

because he's a few years younger.

What's the enchantment

with these woods?

Anne, how old am I?

Old enough to marry me next month.

But just barely.

Elsa, what are you done up as?

You're behaving like an amateur spy.

You could've telephoned

instead of sending this.

I didn't want anyone

to recognize my voice.

- "All's well. Come." What does it mean?

- It means your plan worked brilliantly.

Raymond telephoned me last night

to say he was madly sorry.

And that he had behaved like an

absolute monster cad. It was heaven.

He rumbled a lot of divinely

sweet things in that way of his.

You know, quietly in a low, deep voice

as if he were suffering.

- It was shivery.

- I'm sure.

Then he asked me to meet him after

lunch to show I had no hard feelings.

- Meet him where?

- He said not to tell a soul.

He meant Philippe, not me.

I don't know.

He doesn't know that you know that...

Where are you supposed

to meet him?

- He said not to tell.

- Then don't.

But should I go?

Meet him, don't meet him. Do whatever

you want. Only don't ask me.

It's getting out of hand. I just wish

I were a lot older or a lot younger.

Pig, pig, pig. I ate like a pig.

Sleepy?

In a way.

No. I have to work.

- I have to go meet Lombard anyway.

- Where are you meeting him?

- His yacht's anchored around the point.

- Why don't we all go?

Because I simply must get

at those sketches.

- I thought you would stop work.

- After the wedding.

Today is father and daughter day.

You two go.

Bye.

- Can I go with you?

- Darling, no. You've got to study.

Anne doesn't think Lombard's

a good influence.

- She suggested I go.

- That's very generous of her...

...but I mustn't take advantage

of her generosity.

What a fak e. What an incredible fak e.

But I love him.

Don't study too hard,

Madame Pascal Spinoza.

It's gone too far.

I must tell her.

I must tell her right away

that this is all my doing.

There's no question.

I must tell her.

But how? What can I tell her?

She'll never forgive me. And she'll

have a weapon against me forever.

Where's she going?

Maybe she wants to join him

at the Lombards' yacht.

I can't let her go.

I must stop her.

No. Maybe I won't stop her.

I'd lik e to see what she'll do.

- No, Raymond, stop that.

- Why?

You're very nervy. You think you can

pick up right where we left off?

Not at all, you were sunburned then.

- I've got a brilliant tan now, haven't I?

- Lovely.

Lovelier than Anne's?

Much. But then a young girl's skin

is always much lovelier.

You didn't seem to think so

a few weeks ago.

Stop punishing me because

I had to satisfy my curiosity.

You weren't curious, you were greedy.

And why were you ready to marry her?

With a woman like Anne, you have to

say a thing like that and you know it.

Raymond.

Anne!

Anne! Wait!

Please stay. It's my fault.

Please, Cecile, let go.

Anne, we need you.

- You don't need anybody. Either of you.

- We do.

- No, wait. Forgive me.

- No, you forgive me.

- Been trying to write to her.

- Where? To Paris?

I suppose that's where she's gone.

What can I say?

"Dear Anne:
I'm sorry I went

to the wood with Elsa."

Meaning, "I'm sorry you caught me"?

"It meant nothing to me.

That sort of thing never does."

She'll never understand that.

"Dear Anne:
A man says silly things

to a silly woman."

Particularly if he's a vain, silly man.

It was bound to happen

sooner or later.

If not with Elsa, with somebody else.

I'm a very silly man.

- Don't talk that way.

- At least I'm aware of it.

We can get her back. We'll both write,

ask her to forgive both of us.

- Why both of us?

- You, then.

No, me too. I wasn't

very nice to her either.

Where's that pen?

If we put our silly heads together,

we can think of something to say.

Maybe we won't have to write at all.

Hello?

Yes.

Where?

May I have that, please?

She was a friend of ours.

Later they told us that was

the seventh accident at that spot...

...since the beginning of summer.

Seven. My lucky number.

Anyone else would have

left my father a note...

...that would have ruined his sleep

for the rest of his life.

But Anne gave both of us

a magnificently considerate present.

She allowed us to believe

her death was an accident.

My father never mentions the word

"suicide" to anybody.

Not even to me.

Why don't we have dinner tomorrow?

- There's a new club near the Tremoille.

- Yes, I've been.

- Fun?

- Great fun.

Well, good night.

I never heard from Philippe again.

I suppose he finished law school.

Elsa, she's living in South America.

And my father and me...

...we still share this apartment...

...our evenings, our friends.

This summer we're going south again

for his holiday.

Only this time to the Italian Riviera.

"For a change," we say to each other.

But we don't say why we want

a change, nor do we ask.

We have an unspok en agreement

never to mention last summer.

Come in.

You're checking in early.

Denise is a bore.

So soon?

Well, there's no time limit on bores.

By the way, did you notice

Yvonne Marie at that cocktail party?

Yes. She didn't look bad at all.

No, I should say not.

Not bad at all.

Will you be taking her south?

I'll let you know

at the end of the week.

If you do...

...perhaps you'd rather

I didn't come.

You have to come. You have to.

Then I'll come.

Besides...

...you need the rest. You're tired.

Yes, I'm tired.

- Good night, darling.

- Good night, Raymond.

So here I am,

surrounded by my wall of memory.

I try to stop remembering...

...but I can't.

And so often I wonder:

When he's alone...

...is he remembering too?

I hope not.

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