Indochine Page #6

then he betrayed them.

He betrayed everybody.

He got what he deserved.

It's hopeless. By noon all Saigon

will be convinced it was suicide.

Seal off Mr. Devries' house.

Inform the Chief of the Cabinet

and Admiral Josselin. I'm on my way.

As expected,

it was ruled a suicide.

Fighting for

Jean-Baptiste's memory...

was like battling against

France and the empire.

So I wrote to Saigon's

leading newspaper.

It was a simple letter...

saying your father loved life...

far too much to decide

to die like that.

I accompanied him to the boat,

as I'd promised him.

Without you,

I would have followed him.

You were five years old.

I had no news about your mother

except that she was alive.

To have her pardoned,

I wrote to the president...

the Minister of Justice,

the Minister of Colonies...

and the Governor General.

None of them answered.

I didn't do anything!

I did nothing.

It's not me. It's my parents.

- They say you're--

- I'm what?

A Red! A dirty communist.

Tell them it's true.

In my beloved domain,

you had become the little king.

Bankers pressured me every day.

They wanted my lands.

I wanted to save everything

for my daughter and you.

Once Camille was free,

things would be like before.

Then, one night, Guy called.

He spoke as if there hadn't been

three years of silence between us.

Ladies and gentlemen...

bow deeply to the woman I love.

Pig!

I forgive you.

I don't.

Never mind. I'm leaving.

Don't hold back.

I won't either.

Make my last day unforgettable.

I spent half my life here,

thanks to my Chinese.

Why leave?

Dismissed, fired, discarded.

Will you have me?

You're like the Popular Front...

like the military,

like everyone.

Guy Asselin isn't liked.

Where to?

To some fragment of the empire.

The innocent are kicked out...

the guilty will go free.

Drink up, my friends.

Drink, so I'll forget my troubles.

And if you like secrets,

interrogate each other.

You know all about Saigon.

I was merely the mailbox,

the post office.

I'm relieving you

of your oaths of silence.

Tonight we tell all.

Come on.

Do I have a destiny?

Hurry back to Guy.

Men like him

shouldn't be left alone.

His type is always getting hurt.

My turn.

My turn!

Come!

- My turn!

- It's easy.

Guy knew before anyone else.

A few days later,

it was official.

The Popular Front opened the jails

and pardoned the prisoners.

Stay back!

The pardoned prisoners will be

transported to Saigon by truck.

They will be freed

at police headquarters.

Let them through!

My child, my darling.

How thin you've gotten.

The Red Princess!

There she is!

I'll carry your bag.

That's okay.

I tried everything

to get you out.

I prayed.

I'd have given my life.

I was afraid you'd die.

I've kept everything.

The house, the estate, the lands.

They're yours.

I'm not going back.

- I'm leaving.

- What are you saying?

- Please, just think.

- I've thought for five years.

It's too late, Mama.

I can't go backwards.

I have no past.

I've forgotten everything.

Otherwise, I'd have

died of sorrow.

What's his name?

Etienne. He's a wonderful boy.

Listen.

Try.

I'll help.

My darling.

I don't want him to know what I've

lived through, how I suffered.

I want him to be happy.

My darling.

Go to France!

Take him there.

Your Indochina is no more.

It's dead.

You sold it?

Yes.

Many piastres?

Many.

You buy other plantation?

No, Shen. You know I won't.

Satait and Kim and me,

we go where?

You're staying.

It was decided

with Madame Minh Tam.

Mr. Emile also stays.

And you? Go where?

I left for France...

for another life.

I brought only you.

Tomorrow France loses

Indochina for good.

The Vietnamese came

with a big delegation.

Your mother, Camille,

is in that hotel...

in room 212.

Do you want to see her?

Do you?

I don't.

You saw her?

The lobby was very crowded.

Policemen, security officers

and barriers.

I realized how ridiculous

the situation was.

I imagined throwing myself at

an Indo-Chinese woman, yelling...

"Mama!"

So I thought

a miracle ought to happen.

I hoped one of them would shout,

"Etienne, my son!"

I waited...

a long time.

Nothing happened.

So I left.

You're always joking.

No. You are my mother.

What's the matter?

I broke my heel.

"The next day, July 21, 1954...

the Geneva Conference concluded...

ending 15 years of turmoil...

and initiating the division

into two distinct nations...

of what would henceforth

be called Vietnam."

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