Coup de torchon Page #6

I saw 'em, I tell you,

in the mirror.

- Shame!

- What's going on?

This is the last time I try

to comfort somebody.

I just told her

to lay her head on my shoulder.

Then I patted her on the back,

like anybody with a heart would.

You, my only true friend...

believing such a horrible lie.

- Not at all.

- Don't listen to those two.

He was feeling up the girl.

- Stop howling.

- I saw them.

Shut up!

- Worst for you, 'cause I saw them.

- So?

I'm ashamed.

I'm going home.

- Are you leaving?

- After what happened...

She loses her husband,

gets insulted...

It's natural she's upset.

You keep out of it.

It's woman's business.

Come and powder your nose

for the funeral.

So, my little Rose...

Your heart mourns.

Not my heart or anything else.

Are you forgetting our Father's words:

"Forgive us our sins..."

"As we forgive others."

No, I haven't forgotten, they're lies

we teach children

and they stick with them, even if they

know it isn't the truth.

Why should I forgive Marcaillou?

You can only forgive those

you love, and even then...

But this isn't something

your good Lord teaches.

But you believe in God?

- Sure.

- Do you truly believe?

I believe, but not truly.

Hey, Father. Is that pigeon

hanging over the church altar

made of gold?

- That pigeon is the Holy Spirit.

I'll say no more.

I don't want to encourage theft.

What's it worth?

Approximately...

- What's that?

- A walking corpse.

- Where's he going?

- He's looking for the cemetery.

- Gonna get buried?

- Out of my way, brats.

Excuse me.

Is Mr. Cordier at the funeral?

That's him over there.

Everybody here thinks

you're dead!

No, Ma'am, that's not true.

Well, I'm glad. You've got

a bill to pay at the laundry.

Four silk pajamas.

I don't wear pajamas,

just nightshirts.

- Holy Jesus!

- What is it?

- A ghost.

- Where?

There!

It's Le Pron.

A ghost has to be dead first.

I didn't think of that.

Warrant-officer George Le Pron.

It's war!

Always the war. Why should I

be the first to know?

It's not the war.

It's about my brother.

- I see the resemblance.

- Hardly.

And how is he?

Dead...

And you know who killed him.

Didn't your regiment squash

the peanut picker's revolt?

- Sure did.

- It sure took guts...

All those blacks

armed with clubs

and all you had

were machine guns!

My brother said you were an ass.

Why try to cover up for his murderer.

You know very well who's done it.

If I knew who it was,

he would already be in jail.

He's a cop, that's why.

Is it your friend, Chevasson?

He's not my friend.

I even refused to put him up

the night of the crime,

which I regret, 'cause if he

hadn't been at the brothel...

Funny, in trying to defend him,

you implicate him even more.

Oh, that's the way I am.

I don't know why.

Fte-Nat! Bring the glasses!

Don't turn around.

He might drop the tray.

You're not afraid of ghosts,

are you?

My grandma saw some, long ago.

After the big war,

God wouldn't let the dead come out.

There'd be too many.

How'd he do it?

Hello, friend.

So now, white folks wait to be dead

to shake the hand of a simple black.

Well, it's too late now.

What I just heard is awful!

Here it is...

Their favorite place.

They were there, so quiet.

What'd they do?

Nothing - like anyone else

when they can help it.

He always liked ratafia...

This might do something...

It brings me closer to him.

To think that he might've

been killed here, my poor brother...

What makes you say that?

Well, he had to be killed

somewhere.

So, why not here?

True.

I'm exhausted.

Walking is tiring...

...but walking and thinking...!

It's funny...

My brother saw you differently.

- May I call you Lucien?

- Of course, George.

My brother sure had

the good life...

Better than ours.

You can say that again.

- No formalities between us?

- It's all right with me.

- The army must be a drag at times.

- Yeah...

But I couldn't do

anything else. And you?

Same for me.

But is doing nothing

a real goal in life?

Not always.

Does it excuse us?

Can you excuse a pole

for filling a hole?

It may squash some rabbits,

but is it the pole's fault

if it fits that hole?

There's no comparison. A pole is

an inanimate object.

Aren't we all more

or less inanimate?

What do you mean?

Who knows!

Look. There's a guy who

won't die in the war.

Sad sight...

Not for everybody. Your

brother enjoyed shooting them.

And you let him?

I'm not a policeman, George...

I'm Jesus Christ in person,

sent here with a load of crosses

each bigger than the next.

I see...

I try to save the innocent

but there aren't any.

All crimes are collective.

We contribute to

each other's crimes.

We all shot your brother...

And maybe I did a bit more

than anybody else.

Strange day!

Now what?

A red and a blue sock!

I must have dressed in the dark.

I have a question

no one has answered yet.

The big question.

- Go ahead.

When you scratch your balls,

is it 'cause they itch

or 'cause it feels good?

I've had an exhausting day.

I get taken for a ghost...

I drink ratafia...

I've heard things and I don't even

know if I really heard them.

But I don't mind 'cause now I know

who killed my brother.

Who?

You told me...

I forgot what I told you.

Could you repeat it?

What matters is what

I didn't tell you.

What didn't you tell me?

Your brother and his mate, I saw them

alive and well the day after the murder.

No... no... no...

What time is it?

Six P.M.

We're entering the virgin forest.

"Women nurse these fierce

invalids returned...

"...from the tropics."

How was my mutton stew?

Even better than the one

Huguette made.

You ate twice!

I can never say no.

Why'd you marry her?

I dunno. She asked me.

What about Rose?

Same thing.

Were you with her when

Marcaillou was shot?

Let's see...

when Marcaillou was shot...

It's strange... we've got so much

inside our heads...

but when we want to use it...

Nothing!

Why do you ask?

It was good for Rose.

Even better for Marcaillou!

He was a brute.

Whoever killed him, did him a favor.

Better, a charitable act.

But not everybody

can understand that.

I'm not everybody, Lucien.

No, don't.

But why?

Don't.

When I pity someone,

it's bad for them and me.

Why are you so late?

I'm exhausted, Rose.

Sleep is all you do.

It's the best thing,

besides eating.

When you eat or sleep,

you forget about the things

you can't solve.

Think about it.

You'll see I'm right.

It's not thinking I need.

What are you doing?

I'm praying for strength.

You think it'll work?

I'm so weak I couldn't

stick my finger in a cherry pie.

It's working!

Thank the Good Lord!

It's the least he could do.

GOD TOLD ME TO KILL THEM.

I WASN'T SURE. JESUS CHRIST.

- Can anyone read that?

- No, Ma'am.

It's the beginning of

"La Marseillaise".

Children of the land

the day of glory's come...

...The bloody flag of

tyranny's against us...

Very good!

The rice pudding's gone!

I had to shape up before

taking Rose home.

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