Jules et Jim Page #3

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It will be tough...

but I prefer it because

I was afraid to kill Jim here.

My darling...

let me kiss you.

Jules' country lost the war.

Jim's had won.

But they were both victorious

since they were alive.

They began to write each other again.

Catherine and Jules lived

in a cottage near the Rhine.

They had a daughter, Sabine.

Jim wrote Jules:
" Tell me,

should I marry and have children, too?"

Jules replied:

"Come and judge for yourself."

Catherine signed the invitation.

Jim left,

but he delayed his arrival.

He walked along the Rhine,

and stopped in several towns.

He was writing about Germany

after the war for a Paris paper.

He wanted to see

his battlegrounds again.

In some places, the land

had been bombarded so heavily...

that nothing could ever

grow on it again.

They became cemeteries where Jim

looked on graves for familiar names...

cemeteries that were being shown

to schoolchildren.

Catherine was waiting at the

station with her daughter.

Her eyes were shining with joy.

- Hello, Jim.

- Hello, Catherine.

- This is Sabine.

- Hello, Mr. Jim.

Let's go.

Jules is anxious to see you.

Her deep voice made Jim think

she had finally made their date...

and had dressed up

especially for him.

She took him to their cottage,

surrounded by pines and near a hill.

- How are the others?

- Oh, the others, you know.

- You haven't changed, Jim.

- You haven't changed, Jules.

So, no one has changed.

Sit down.

Come here, Sabine.

No, thanks.

- You want some?

- Just a little.

No, thanks. I stopped smoking

when I started to love plants.

An angel is passing by.

Of course, it's twenty past one.

So?

Angels always pass by

at twenty past.

- I didn't know that.

- Neither did I.

At twenty past

and twenty to as well.

So you won the war, you louse.

I'd rather have won this.

You must be hungry. Let's eat.

Afterwards, I'll show you the house.

Jim here, Jules over there.

And Sabine next to me.

How is your new novel?

These articles won't let me finish it.

I work on them all week,

write them Friday night...

and send them airmail

the next day. And you?

I am doing a book on dragonflies.

I am writing it for a publisher.

Catherine is illustrating it.

Even Sabine helps.

She goes with me into the swamps.

I'm going to build

a pond in the garden.

One day, perhaps, I may become literary

and write a love story...

with insects as characters.

I have a bad tendency to specialize.

I admire your versatility, Jim.

Oh, me, I'm a failure. Sorel,

my teacher, taught me all I know.

"What do you want to do," he asked me.

I said I wanted to be a diplomat.

"Do you have money?"

"No."

"Are you related to anyone famous?"

"No."

"Then forget about diplomacy!"

"But what can I become?"

"Curious."

"That's no career."

"Not yet.

Travel, write, translate.

Learn to live anywhere,

beginning now.

There's a future in it.

The French have ignored the world

for too long.

A paper will always

pay for your fun."

Jules thinks you have

a bright future.

So do I,

but it may not be spectacular.

Jules works and sleeps here.

We're as organized as a monastery.

Jules writes his books...

and hunts his insects.

Mathilde, who you saw,

comes from a nearby farm.

She helps me

with the house and Sabine.

My room.

That's Jules!

Yes, his father liked Mozart so much

that he once disguised him as Mozart.

Here is the balcony.

Over there is the inn

where you'll sleep.

Jules will take you there later.

Jules and Jim

carried on their conversation.

They talked about the war.

Jules avoided talking about his family.

Catherine was kind and tough...

but Jim felt something was wrong.

To bed, sleepyhead.

Once upon a time...

there was a little sleepyhead...

- Good night, Sabine.

- Good night, Jim. See you tomorrow.

- Good night, Jules.

- I want to talk to you.

- What do you think of her?

- Marriage and motherhood suit her.

She's less of a grasshopper

and more of an ant.

Be careful.

True, she keeps order in our home.

But if things go too smoothly,

she changes.

She becomes a tyrant in her words.

Yes, she has a Napoleonic side.

She believes the world is rich...

and that one can cheat a little.

She begs God

to forgive her in advance.

She is sure that He will.

I'm afraid she'll leave us.

- Impossible!

- No, she has done it already.

It lasted 6 months.

I gave up hope.

She's ready to do it again.

She's not really my wife, Jim.

She has had three lovers.

One was a fling the day before

our wedding, to bury her youth.

And one as revenge

for something I did.

I don't know what.

I'm not the man she needs...

and she won't accept that.

I'm used to her

being unfaithful to me at times...

but I couldn't stand to see her go.

- But there's Albert.

- The singer who found the statue?

Yes, it was he who showed it to us.

He was wounded in the war.

He's convalescing

in a village near here.

Catherine encourages him

and gives him hope.

He has spoken about her to me.

He wants to marry her

and take the child.

I hold no grudge against him.

I have nothing against him nor her.

I am slowly renouncing her...

and all I had expected from the world.

That's what she likes about you.

That Buddhist side of yours.

She's usually kind and generous...

but when she thinks

she is not appreciated...

she becomes terrible, and suddenly

goes from one extreme to the other...

with sudden attacks.

Listen to that mole-cricket.

It's like a mole.

Jim could see the cottage

from his bedroom window.

Catherine was there,

a queen ready to flee.

Jim wasn't surprised.

He recalled Jules' mistakes

with other girls.

Catherine, he knew, was precise.

Jim felt sorry for Jules,

but he could not condemn her.

She jumped at men the way

she had jumped into the river.

The house was under a cloud.

Another week began.

- Time to go to bed, Sabine.

- Okay, Mommy.

I need to speak to you later, Jim.

Will you be free?

Words change meaning

from one language to another...

when they change gender.

In German, war and death are masculine,

unlike in French...

while sun and love are feminine.

- Life is neuter.

- Life is neuter?

Very pretty and very logical.

Skirts became short in France, too,

during the war.

Married soldiers hated that.

They felt betrayed...

but it was because

the fabric was scarce.

Yes, and women

cut their hair short...

to avoid danger in factories.

It's time you start to

appreciate German beer, Jim.

Jim is like me! He's French.

He couldn't care less about German beer.

- Not at all.

- What?

French wines are the best in Europe,

in the world even.

Look at the clarets:

Chteau Lafite, Chteau Margaux.

That's not all. There are others.

The burgundies:
Romane, Chambertin...

Beaume, Pommard, Chablis, Volnais.

And Beaujolais wines:

Pouilly-Fuiss...

Moulin Vent, Fleurie,

Morgon, Saint Amour.

We stared at the shell

as it rolled down the steps.

Three steps, two steps.

Lie down.

Catch me.

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