Impromptu Page #6

she wants you for herself?

- Dear lady, please...

- Don't worry, I'm going!

She's right. We're not suited.

I'm not full of virtues

and noble qualities.

I love, that is all.

But I love strongly,

exclusively, steadfastly.

You remember?

George?

- Is madame at home, please?

- Yes, monsieur.

- Madame? Please excuse me.

- Sophie!

There's no more. I'm empty.

That's the last you'll get from me.

- I will return another time.

- Don't go.

You haven't visited me for a long time.

Forgive me. My health has been hateful.

Franz is away.

All the royal houses of Europe have

invited him to play, it seems. Even Russia.

Like most peasants, he has

a weakness for crowned heads.

You may turn around.

Please sit.

Thank you.

Do you hear anything from Madame Sand?

- Will she be coming to Paris this year?

- I am no longer her friend.

She severed herself from Franz and me

with no explanation.

- You have her latest book, I see.

- Yes.

- Have you read it?

- I wouldn't touch such trash.

Madame, last summer

you gave me a letter.

Yes, I took a chance...

you would forgive me

speaking the truth of my heart.

In fact, I was appalled.

But I could not reject it entirely.

Something touched me.

A phrase, like a tune one can't forget.

- Shall I remind you what you wrote?

- Do.

"I am not full of virtues

and noble qualities."

"I love, that is all."

"But I love strongly,

exclusively, steadfastly."

Imagine my surprise

when I found that here.

I see I must confess.

When I wrote you that letter,

my tender feelings for you

so overpowered me

I could not find words

of clarity and persuasion.

I was desperate.

I looked around me for help.

I saw George's book

and stole what I needed.

But a year ago

this book had not been published.

Or even written, I suspect.

I think I've found the truth,

for which I thank you,

and I owe Madame Sand an apology.

Perhaps now

she and I can become friends.

Don't be content

with just a little truth.

George will never be content with just

your friendship. She wants your manhood.

Your virtue, your genius, your soul.

Listen to me! That woman is a graveyard!

But I can help you.

I can inspire you.

This is the novel and that's

the last chapter of the memoir.

- It's a bit on the thin side.

- So's my life.

- Do you know of a good tutor?

- I'll ask around.

By the way,

Mr Chopin came to see me last week.

He asked if you would call on him

when you were in town.

Mmm! Do I hear a duet?

Perhaps this is not

the last chapter, eh?

Give me my money, you jackal!

Madame Aurora Dudevant.

Aurora is the name I was born with.

Aurora. What a lovely name.

The dawn.

- I'm not happy with it.

- Why?

Because a perfect impromptu

should seem spontaneous and free.

No-one should be able to guess

at the desperate calculation behind it.

I've been struggling

with this for so long.

It's like being tangled

in a net. I feel...

I have terrible dreams at night.

I think if I ever finish it,

then it will have finished me.

You must suffer tortures

to find the perfect word

that will make it all seem effortless.

Me? Suffer for art? You must be joking.

I suffer quite enough for life.

I have no hope to be perfect.

I simply pump out pages for money.

No, your books are admirable.

I've been reading them.

Have you?

Ah.

Is this your family?

No, that's my fiancee.

Well, we are no longer engaged.

Her family didn't feel that I was

a very good risk for a husband.

No-one expects me to live very long.

- Balls!

- I beg your pardon?

Look, I don't believe you're ill at all.

You just need more strength.

Take mine.

Really.

I have too much of it.

- No.

- Yes. I want you so.

- No.

- Oh!

Forgive me.

I...

fear that we would harm the memory

of our beautiful afternoon.

Yes. Yes, of course.

All right.

Who's taught you to be afraid?

No wonder you're choking to death.

Someone's got to show you

how to breathe.

Come on. Come on.

You need light and air.

You need to move about.

Why stay inside wrestling

with perfection?

Come outside!

Perfection is flowing all around you!

- George!

- No!

Run, Chopin!

- Excuse me?

- Yes.

I won't kill you here as you deserve.

I will kill you honourably

at dawn tomorrow.

With any weapon you prefer.

You wish to fight me?

You have stolen my lady's affections.

- I wish the chance to avenge myself.

- Mallefille!

No!

Very well, monsieur.

I will give you the opportunity.

But not the prize.

Let's go back. This is ridiculous.

What, run for my hole like a rabbit?

I could never respect myself afterwards.

Nor could you, Aurora.

I'm going to fight at dawn

for the right to see another dawn.

- Eugene.

- It's too late.

He's in love.

Monsieur. Madame.

Welcome.

The doctor is here.

These are my seconds.

The sun is rising. Shall we go?

Please.

I wonder...

Is there by any chance a cleaner one?

- Don't hurt him. Aim at the clouds.

- He is not much more than a cloud.

I'll come back to you.

I'll never see him again.

Just stop these silly heroics.

You have placed me

in an impossible position.

All I have left is a show of strength.

Besides, women like that sort of thing.

Are you insane?

Pretty dress.

Are you ready, gentlemen?

And... one.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven. Eight.

Nine. Ten.

- This man has fainted!

- That man is wounded.

Too bad! Help us lift him.

Wait!

Come back!

I knew it! It's the frail one!

Oh, my God! Is he dead?

I hope the damp hasn't killed him.

- Show us your finest room.

- I have one ready.

Give him milk when he wakes up.

Try not to excite him.

Thank you, Doctor.

And now you'd best

have a look at this rump.

- You've humiliated me.

- Good.

You'll be too embarrassed

to speak of it.

No-one must know what's happened.

- Gentlemen, do I have your word?

- Yes.

And you, monsieur?

After all the time we spent together,

how could you?

In cold blood?

It was easy.

You're a menace to the future of art.

Goodbye.

Remember what the doctor said.

Try not to excite him.

- He needs peace.

- I know what he needs.

Go home. Paint something dead.

- Aurora?

- Yes.

I feel very weak.

- Have I been wounded?

- No.

No. On the contrary, you wounded him.

In his shooting arm, too.

He never even had time to fire.

It was a brilliant fight.

And then I fell?

I suppose I swooned away like a woman.

You were overcome by...

the violence of what you'd done.

You're a sensitive man.

It was very hard.

- I remember the gun was shaking so.

- You see?

You're stronger than you knew.

And I thought you needed me.

But I do need you.

Drink your milk.

Where are the others?

They've gone.

- Gone?

- Mm-hm.

But how will we get back to Paris?

Why don't we stay here for a few days?

It's peaceful.

It's discreet.

Chopin.

Do you love me?

God help me, I do.

You are superb.

Don't.

What is wrong?

I'm frightened.

Of me?

Certain acts are unseemly.

They are unsuitable.

Chopin.

It's an act of love.

It's the divine mystery itself.

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