Marius Page #2

At breakfast, I'd chase her

round the table in her shift.

I'd give her little slaps.

I'd pinch her nicely... in fun.

In revenge, she'd tickle me.

I'm sure you'd rather not

talk about it.

When I think that

all that is gone forever.

I weep every night.

I can't go on, Monsieur Brun.

What's to be done?

I've made up my mind.

Come on now. Think it over.

I have already. I can't endure

such suffering any longer.

Don't act hastily.

I've decided

to marry again at once.

- Marry again?

- As soon as possible.

After all, she's dead.

I can't bring her back.

Some may say

I've not waited long enough,

but my conscience is clear.

I've wept more in four months

than others do in years.

Tears as big as that,

Monsieur Brun.

And moans and cries -

I don't know how I've borne it.

Yes, I'm to be pitied.

Cheers.

What do you think?

I'll wager you've got

someone in mind.

Yes, of course.

I'm going to propose today.

Who is it?

I can't tell you yet.

But I'll be sending you

an invitation to the wedding.

I'm inviting

all my clients and friends.

There will be

only one person missing.

My poor Felicity.

She always loved a party.

But that's life.

It wasn't God's will.

She'll be happier up there

looking down on events.

The Malaisie's mate is here.

Right. It's a big order.

I must put my best foot forward.

They asked about sails yesterday.

- A large ship?

- Yes, leaving on an expedition.

On a three-master?

They'll be studying winds

and currents in the South Seas.

There's an auxiliary engine.

Panisse, hurry up.

That's enough. All in good time.

- You want to kill me?

- We must all die one day.

When one isn't rich,

one has to work.

He's none too happy.

In Marseilles,

nothing comes harder than work.

So, Fanny, is it settled?

What?

I may ask your mother

for your hand?

Anyone may ask.

You don't think I'm being foolish?

That's for Mother to decide.

The exquisite modesty

of a true maiden.

There you are, sir.

I won't keep you a moment.

Pretend you know nothing.

He thinks no one knows.

Well, I'm going out.

Just for a little walk

round the town.

Nothing important.

I really must get rid of this hat.

I may pop into Mostegui's

for some fish soup

and a steak with fries.

Well, I'm off.

No need to explain yourself.

I'm not explaining myself.

Why should I, at my age?

I'm just informing you

that I'm going to Mostegui's.

So that's where we can find you.

No, there's no need for anyone

to come to Mostegui's.

If you want something,

ask me now.

You said...

I said... I've nothing to say.

I don't need your permission

to go out.

Of course not.

Damn it, what does

this inquisition mean?

If I were 86, I'd understand

your spying on me.

But I'm not senile.

I won't drown.

Dad, off you go.

It's quite natural.

There you are.

My son says it's quite natural.

I shall go - naturally.

People should mind

their own business.

It's mere suspicion.

And I won't be suspected

by a Lyonnais.

No offense meant.

If Picon comes, take 12 bottles.

That'll be 240 francs.

Twelve bottles. Don't forget.

No need to tell me.

Leave it to me.

Good God, give me patience.

What did I do

to deserve such a son?

He can't be mine.

I don't believe it.

If Picon comes, take 12 bottles.

On second thought, don't.

I'll telephone.

- My poor boy.

- What do you mean?

You'll be late for your own funeral.

Panisse, have you really thought

about this?

Of course I have.

She's 30 years your junior.

Is that my fault?

I'll give her everything she wants -

money, jewels...

You're a good man,

but I'm afraid

she might find something lacking.

I'll say no more.

Don't talk

about what you don't know.

- I know love is wonderful.

- Agreed.

- But it's best at 20.

- She is 20.

- But you're 50.

- And I've got lots of money.

My dear Panisse,

nightgowns don't have pockets.

I'm only speaking

for your own good.

You'd be a good catch,

but when I look at you,

I see a huge pair of horns.

You're wrong.

Just say yes and leave the rest to me.

I'm going to be married.

To whom?

No one knows yet.

I'm telling you

because I need some advice.

Who is it?

- He asked for my hand.

- Who did?

- Perhaps I shouldn't say.

- Don't then.

You'll know soon enough.

It's Victor.

Everybody knows that.

He comes every night

for your shellfish.

It's a wonder he hasn't died.

- Proving what?

- He's an idiot.

And he won't get the shop

till his dad dies.

I don't want the shop,

and I don't care a fig for Victor.

Then who is it?

What? Old Panisse?

- You don't believe me?

- No, I don't.

- So you won't advise me?

- Yes, when you find a better story.

The man has bags under his eyes.

Taking a rest, my dear?

Keeping cool.

Yes, "The sun is king today

but hide your lovely face

lest he should burn

in his embrace

the pride of Love's nosegay."

- Well said.

- Did you make that up?

I'd say I did, but you'd only see it

on the pots of face cream

in the window of the corner shop.

But the right poem at the right time

lends tone to a conversation.

Marius, two anisettes.

- Is one of those for me?

- Who else?

Come and sit down.

I talked to your mother.

She's checking my accounts,

but I think she'll agree,

if you say yes.

Give me a few days to consider.

Of course. I don't mind waiting.

I'll be even more pleased

when you say yes.

- How many workers do you have?

- Twenty-three.

Fill up those glasses, my boy.

- They are full.

- Liar.

I'm lying?

- Then let me fill them.

- Careful! You're spilling it.

He's a bit tired today.

That's no way to behave.

Darn. I forgot my matches.

Wait, Panisse.

How delightful a light is

when proffered by a pretty hand.

My hands aren't pretty.

They're so small.

So soft... and warm.

And such a pretty ring.

- You like it?

- Very much.

Is it gold?

I don't know.

It was in a cracker.

Then it must be brass.

Too bad.

Do you have a gold ring?

But your necklace is gold?

Yes, my Aunt Zo gave it to me

for my First Communion.

It's very pretty.

What's the medallion on it?

Just a minute. I'll show you.

- What does it say?

- My date of birth.

Fanny, your mother's calling you.

- I didn't hear anything.

- Well, she is.

She knows where to find you.

Let's talk seriously.

Your mother and I

have discussed figures and...

Am I disturbing your chat?

You stopped talking.

We may have private matters

to discuss.

Some filth, I reckon.

Filth? Don't be so rude.

Remember whom you're addressing.

Looking at you makes me feel sick.

Don't look then.

- And don't scowl at me.

- So now I'm scowling at you?

- Have you gone mad?

- Poor lunatic.

Lunatics can be very dangerous.

I know one who'd love to hit you.

Hit me? My poor boy.

Come out here, if you're a man.

- You're still wet behind the ears.

- Just see if I am.

You're afraid.

Marius, you don't want

to see me roused.

Don't I? You miserable wretch.

Wretch?

Did you call me a wretch?

Leave this to us men.

Hold my hat.

- Go on, hit me!

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