La fleur du mal Page #2

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it celebrated the Fifth Republic

"with a plane crash that killed

our candidate's father and mother.

"They were just Vasseur back then.

"The name Charpin was in the sewer

where it belonged."

Don't get up, I'll go.

No, she's not in.

Of course. I'm her aunt.

What?

Oh, my God!

Both of them But how

They were together?

Aunt Line!

Are you all right?

I'm fine, dear. I was thinking.

I'm just fine.

Is that all?

Is this charming piece over?

No, but...

Carry on. It's most instructive.

I feel very awkward. I should leave.

No, you have to stay.

It's all linked to the elections.

Here's the rest.

I'm sorry, Aunt Line.

I think I know

what it's about, dear.

Don't worry for my sake.

"Pierre Charpin, the grandfather,

"held an important administrative

post from 1940 to 1944.

"So his son

cut off all ties with him

"then got shot in the Resistance

shortly after D-Day.

"One bad egg in the wrong basket.

"A fine omelette!

"Pierre Charpin was then murdered

in strange circumstances.

"One of his daughters, Micheline,

was suspected."

That's so unfair!

The case was dismissed, Aunt Line!

It doesn't matter, dear.

"Her acquittal convinced no one,

"no more than the theory

of political revenge.

"Pierre Charpin's wife died

"of a possible broken heart

a few weeks later.

"The Charpins' annus horribilis.

"Fate has been hard on them

these last 50 years.

"Let's hope that, on election day,

"Madame Anne Charpin-Vasseur,

the queen of flightiness,

"will uphold family tradition

and be soundly beaten."

Right. Who wrote it?

I don't think we'll ever know.

Couldn't we try to find the printer?

A printer would never have touched

such a charming piece.

Spare us the sarcasm.

Forgive me.

I loathe politics.

It isn't politics!

If you'd stayed out of this,

we'd have all been spared

this literary masterpiece.

Shall I make more coffee?

Yes, please, Aunt Line.

How can she just sit and listen?

She's very strong.

What are you going to do?

I'm going to fight, dear.

- What's our schedule?

- Low-rent housing but...

We change nothing.

Don't you agree?

I don't need to agree.

I just follow.

Why don't you use

the dishwasher?

I work faster than it does.

I never asked for it.

Try to move with the times.

Progress isn't all good.

Do you understand?

I have no intention of telling you

what you have to do.

I know, Grard.

But surely you can see as I can

that your stubborn determination

to get involved in...

I don't know what to call it...

The social world?

Social world, then.

It spells only disaster.

And this tripe is the last straw.

What's so funny?

The image...

Tripe turning into a straw.

Why not breaking

the camel's back too.

The reality's less amusing.

Coffee for everybody?

Thank you, Aunt Line.

- I'll pour.

- Thank you, dear.

You see all kinds of stuff

during elections.

Spitting venom

is part of the game.

You don't understand

the situation.

- Every word is true.

- It is biased though.

Yes, it's biased.

But it's true.

Thank you, dear.

Right...

Matthieu, my boy,

let's get going or we'll be late.

Politics, as you call it,

requires punctuality

for the low-rent housing visit.

Whatever I may say,

you'll change nothing.

Coming to Sunday's reception?

Do I have to?

There'll be pretty girls.

I'll be there, then!

- Need a ride to the campus?

- Not this afternoon.

Skipping classes?

We're on strike.

- You're what?

- That's right.

Ridiculous! Why?

No idea.

A day's strike will do us good.

It won't hurt anyone.

Come on, you Bolshevik.

Want to come?

No, dear,

I have the gardening to do.

You don't need me, do you?

I need you on Monday, ma'am,

to sort papers.

What's the "ma'am" for?

To keep it professional.

No one's coming into town?

No one.

Thanks, but I'm going to rest

and unpack.

Okay, see you youngsters later.

Is there a drop of coffee left?

I'm afraid not.

Anne!

- Are you angry with me?

- Don't be silly.

Can I help?

I'd like that,

unless you're being curious.

Did you pack this?

Sure.

Not bad!

You'd have done better?

Maybe, maybe not...

See a green parcel?

Take it, it's for you.

That's sweet.

Not opening it?

There's no rush.

- You couldn't care less?

- I could.

I guess studying psychology

has made you complicated.

I just want to be alone

when I open it.

So go somewhere and open it.

I want to stay with you.

It's a baseball bat.

I want to stay anyway.

I know why you left.

You do?

You were afraid

of what you might do.

You think that?

Is this worth it?

How did they vote last time?

You can pick up votes

from abstentions and the Far Right.

And you renovated the place.

That's what you tell people

but you did as much as I did.

You'll do all right.

Why are you so devoted,

Matthieu?

Tactics.

Career planning.

All politicians bide their time.

You're ambitious, then!

You know I am.

Here we are.

Have they had that leaflet?

We'll have to wait and see.

Apparently,

you have an admirer

in building A, third floor.

Jules Labire,

a retired railwayman.

How do you know?

He only took your ballot paper

into the booth last time.

It seems pleasant enough

compared to 4 years back.

Indeed!

We can be proud of ourselves.

Hello, my dear. Everything okay?

We had a quiet morning

but we haven't stopped since.

I need to go to the lab.

I'll be in to lend a hand later.

Hello. Everything okay?

Yes, no problems at all.

Glad to hear it.

- Sir!

- Just a second, my dear.

No, there are no side effects.

Excuse me a second.

There's someone to see you.

- Thank you, Vronique.

- A girl.

I know, Vronique.

That's that settled.

Adrienne, my dear!

Come in, you darling child.

Please, have a seat.

You can count on us.

- I think we drew a blank there.

- You never know.

- Shall I ring again?

- Never!

I feel like I'm begging.

The others do it so we have to.

Poor us!

Here we are.

Jules Labire. Your admirer.

Let's not get ahead of ourselves.

That's a good start!

The poorer they are,

the meaner the dogs.

Don't panic...

What is it?

It's about the elections.

You've heard?

Anne Charpin-Vasseur,

your town councillor, is here.

Open the damn door!

Come in!

Thrse, lock that runt up!

Sit down, please.

Well, you got

your third-floor apartment...

I should hope so too.

I waited long enough.

You're happy now?

It's better than the ground floor

with all the kids

dirtying up the windows.

A pity the boiler starts up

every three minutes.

I know. The boilers

are on my programme.

The real problem is the bastards

who cause trouble.

The neighbourhood

has improved though.

Yes, that's true.

But there aren't any benches.

If you're out for a walk

and your legs get wobbly,

you've only got your thumb

to sit on.

Note that about the bench,

please.

Why didn't they think of it?

This is Mr Lartigue,

my right-hand man

and running mate.

He's a highly competent jurist.

Have you noted the bench?

Yes,

and top priority for the boiler.

The elections are next Sunday.

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