Monsieur Verdoux Page #7

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- Don't be a fool!

By that time, the fish'll be gone.

Where's your common sense?

What's that?

You're not baiting him with that?

You don't expect them to eat this?

- What are you doing?

- Putting a worm on the hook.

- A worm?

- Of course!

Disgusting! You don't expect me

to eat fish that's been eating worms.

Very well. We'll fish without them.

Good.

- You're not angry, pigeon?

- Me? No.

Don't be mad because

you're wrong once in a while.

You can't be right all the time.

I can see scads of them.

They're smelling the hook.

- You know... Is something wrong?

- Hm?

They're wonderful.

There's millions of 'em down there.

You know...

Be careful. You'll go overboard.

- Are you seasick?

- No.

Shame on you! A man who's lived

at sea all his life. Oh, Captain!

Shush!

I've got one. I've got one.

Ooh, I got... This is a whopper.

I've got... Pigeon, I've got one.

Hey, don't lie there asleep,

give me a hand!

What on earth's the matter with you?

It's gone. If you'd been on the job,

I would have caught him.

Are you drunk?

Oh, a solo drinker, huh?

Hmph, carrying a bottle!

They're still smelling the hook.

Big ones!

Just look at those fish.

There's a wise one.

No, he won't...

What are you going to do with that?

- Lasso him.

- Don't be silly!

You can't lasso a fish.

You can. All you have to do is

to place it over its head like that

and you pull it tight like this.

- What's that?

- A yodeller.

- Oh, that ruins everything.

- It certainly does.

Too bad we couldn't be by ourselves.

It certainly is.

- After all the plans we made.

- Yes.

He's looking at us through

field glasses.

We'd better take this off.

He'll think you're murdering me.

There's a whole gang.

They're going to have a picnic.

I give up, I'm going back to my boat.

- We've just arrived.

- I can't help that.

- Oh...

- What are you doing?

I got one... I've got a beaut...

Don't be a fool! Doesn't matter!

- Don't push.

- Who's pushing you?

- Don't be an idiot!

- Help!

- Sit down.

- I can't.

- Stand still.

- I'm trying.

Pigeon. Help! Help! Help!

You Idiot! Haven't you any more sense

than to stand up in a boat?

What's come over you,

you're acting strange.

Where's my hat?

- Mme Marie Grosnay?

- Oh, dear, dear, dear. Thanks.

I thought you were going

to the south of France.

I couldn't find anything

that suited me.

- More flowers, Madame.

- Put them over there.

Oh, Marie. Mm, how wonderful.

Who sent them?

That awful man who keeps pursuing me.

How thrilling.

I'm dying to know what he's written.

Always the same thing.

Just two words, 'Please, please'.

I've never known such aggressiveness.

That's not aggressive. Whatever

he wants, at least he's asking for it.

- Why don't you call him?

- That old rou?

Well, as long as he's not too old.

I don't know the man. Besides,

I don't have his telephone number.

Send a letter care of the florist.

- Good morning.

- Good morning.

- A letter for you.

- Merci.

- Did you deliver the flowers?

- The last has gone.

Repeat it for another two weeks.

- Oui, Monsieur.

- Oh, wait.

You better cancel it.

May I use your telephone?

- Oui, Monsieur.

- Thank you.

Hello? Give me Passy 3211, please.

Hello?

This is M. Varnay.

I should be very angry with you,

but I have no more resistance.

- Good. When can I see you?

- Why are you so persistent?

- Simple because I love you.

- You hardly know me.

I've always known you.

When we met, I knew there was

a deep understanding between us.

It was in your eyes, Marie.

They are beautiful,

like the loneliness of distant stars.

- I wonder, who are you in the dark?

- I don't quite understand.

I can't express it,

only a symphony could say it.

The music of the spheres.

I'm not as ethereal as all that.

You are everything.

Saint, sinner, snake and gazelle.

I can't forget you. Every look, tone,

gesture is engraved in my mind.

I must see you, Marie.

Immediately. Now. Good.

I'll be right over. Mm-hm.

How much is that?

One franc, Monsieur.

Keep the change.

Marie. My own beloved.

I beg your pardon,

whom did you wish to see?

- Mme Grosnay.

- This way, please.

This way.

I am Mme Lasalle,

Marie will be down in a moment.

Of course.

How do you do?

- Yvonne, this is M. Varnay.

- Yes, we've just met.

I'll see you at my house

for dinner at 7:
30.

- Yes, at 7:
30.

- Oh, don't bother, darling.

Goodbye. Goodbye.

- Well, you wicked man.

- Wicked?

Yes, very wicked.

- Sit over there.

- Thank you.

- Tea?

- Thank you.

- Milk and sugar?

- No, thank you.

Now that Yvonne is gone,

I'm a little afraid of you.

Afraid? Why?

You know what happened

the last time we were alone.

I'm sorry. I allowed my emotions

to get the better of me.

- It will never occur again.

- Oh, don't say that.

That's one of the ironies of life,

doing the wrong thing

at the right moment.

Or shall we say, the right thing

at the wrong moment.

- Marie.

- Oh, don't...

I never spilled a drop.

Marie. Oh, my dear.

- Oh...

- No, please...

Whoever thought

this would happen to Marie.

- All so sudden, too.

- Yes, yes.

- John.

- Yes.

We must give them a drink.

The minister will be late.

He has a burial first.

He should marry them then bury them.

Marie's having trouble

with her trousseau.

- Bridegroom?

- Not here yet.

He hates this sort of thing.

They wanted a quiet affair,

but you know how these things grow.

Yes.

- What was that?

- I've never seen her before.

M. Bismo brought her along.

I'll tell that to the captain.

Have you heard the one

about the old couple...

Ah, good afternoon.

Ah, meet my old friend, M. Carno.

And what are you doing here?

Weddings, funerals,

I attend them all.

- As I was saying...

- Are you a bridesmaid?

- I'm just a stranger.

- Mme Bonheur is a friend of mine.

She was in Paris,

so I brought her along.

- Henri, dear. How are you?

- A little shaky.

I know you wanted a quiet wedding,

but I had to do this for Marie.

I'm sorry to put you through this

but now you must meet my friends.

This is the bridegroom,

M. Varnay

and this is Mme Cornet.

M. Simon. M. Delage.

Mme Bremer. Mme Voselli.

M. Contrepaire. M. Potis. Mme Voulon.

- And of course, my husband.

- Monsieur.

There. I'll introduce the rest

after the ceremony.

- Aren't I nice?

- You are kind.

No, no, I don't mean that

in a derogatory sense.

- Oh, I beg your pardon.

- Granted.

- A drink?

- I'd love one.

- Oh, Claire.

- M. Varnay, how do you feel?

Very abstract.

Pull yourself together.

The worst is yet to come.

That's true. What am I saying?

This is my day of faux pas.

- Oh, let's hope not, Monsieur.

- I didn't mean that, either.

I beg your pardon.

At funerals one's inclined to laugh

and at weddings, weep.

Evidently,

somebody disagrees with me.

- Who on earth can she be?

- Well, you should know.

Oh, yes, a Mme Bonheur.

I think she's from Lyons.

That's good luck. That means you're

going to be pleasantly surprised.

Pardon me.

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