Populaire Page #2

It'd be different if I were a man.

I'm no good at anything.

Perhaps your only gift is for typing,

but one gift in this world

is enough.

Enough to look like a dummy.

I want you to compete again.

I want you to leave me alone.

I'll train you, cover all costs

and you'll move in with me.

With you?

Yes.

It would be...

more...

practical.

I get to keep my job?

You're a terrible secretary.

You will do extra training at the office.

You'll open up,

I'll close up.

You'll go to work by bike.

I'll drive in a bit later.

Same thing in the evening.

Nobody must know you live with me.

They'd gossip.

Come on.

Gee whiz!

It's like Gone With The Wind.

- My father built it.

- You have the same taste.

I've never had time to redecorate.

We'll train

evenings and weekends.

You won't ferry it back and forth.

I'll buy another.

Mind you,

it wouldn't hurt

to build up those biceps.

I'll show you your room.

Pay no attention to those old things.

You were a real athlete!

But not a champion.

Maybe not,

but still very sporty.

If you need me, I'm upstairs.

Don't worry, you're safe.

This old house creaks.

You'd hear me coming a mile away.

One book a month till the competition.

12 in all.

Typing literature will teach you

tricky constructions and styles.

You'll learn to anticipate

how a sentence ends.

No need to comprehend it.

It's quite simple.

Fingers match colours

and colours match letters.

Yellow, middle finger, types apostrophe

and letters E, D, C.

Red, right ring finger, types

O, L, colon...

I can read.

I can understand.

Even complicated sentences.

They're easier to pick up

if you fan them out.

Double them up,

for fast removal without tearing.

No need to watch. I'm a big girl.

There's a bus every day

for St Fraimbault.

Mr Echard?

Yes, pumpkin?

I shredded

Mrs Morel's accident report

and I think I killed the shredder.

Deal with it. You're a big girl.

Sh*t!

Are you OK?

I think so.

Does it hurt here?

And when I press here?

Or here?

Why notjust insure my fingers?

Let's get you back.

If Flaubert took as long over Bovary,

he'd have died before her.

Demoralising me won't get results.

Too touchy for a champion.

This bottle

is about a painter and a farmer.

Back in 1950,

I was assessing

storm damage at a farm...

Are we training or not?

The farm was badly hit.

Atree had fallen on the henhouse,

making a hole in the roof.

I can't type if you talk.

Learn to concentrate

no matter what's going on.

To fix the hole,

Picard, the farmer,

used an old painting.

I took it down,

wiped it off,

and what did I find?

AVan Gogh.

Picard told me

his grandmother gave it to him.

He'd never heard

of this Van Gogh guy.

His only concern

was if the insurance covered the damage.

I convinced him

to go to an auction house.

Now he's rolling in money

and my cellar's full of this fine 1934.

With all your clients' wine,

it's a miracle you're not an alcoholic.

Nobody said training was over.

With all due respect, you're stupid.

I know.

I should've kept the painting.

You play the tough guy,

when deep down

you're the sweetest person I know.

You barely know anyone.

The latest fashion in Paris.

Goodbye.

Faster!

Next one!

If you want the matching panties,

I'm wearing them.

Not at all, I...

You left it in the machine.

Keep it if you like it.

Thanks,

but I have my own collection.

Acollection needs renewing.

Now I see why

I can't find my files at work.

I was just tidying up.

I'd have finished

if it weren't for Madame Bovary.

Who's the prettiest, for you?

I doubt stars

are interested in insurance men.

Just imagine...

I bet you prefer the voluptuous type,

like all men.

The others are too classic,

too goody-goody.

She's more my type.

What was she in?

Nothing.

That's my mother.

She's very beautiful.

I know, I'm nothing like her.

I take after my father.

If he wasn't so stubborn,

we'd be the best of friends.

Men and women weren't made

to get along together.

I can't do it.

My fingers hurt.

My back hurts.

Everything hurts.

You're completely nuts.

You scared me.

A man who cooks. How modern!

Type.

Return.

If you sit straight,

it won't hurt.

You're not supple.

That's your problem.

Not at all.

I'm very supple.

Very, very.

Really?

Yellow, red, green...

Give her piano lessons?

I'm too busy with the house and kids.

Just for a few months.

Let's go.

Stay for lunch.

Bob won't be long.

Rose needs to train.

Nice to meet you, anyway.

A magic trick, kids?

Please, Louis!

Keep your eyes on the knife.

Don't.

Stop it!

I'll stop

only if you promise to teach her.

It's fine if I don't learn piano.

You'll lose a finger!

Promise me.

You traumatised those kids.

v

You should thank me.

For adding piano lessons

to hours of training?

Thanks a bunch.

In any case,

Mrs Taylor is very beautiful.

Is she your mistress?

She's my best friend's wife.

You grew up with her.

Yes, you're right.

Marie and I had an affair.

We were five years old.

It's the way you looked at her.

Tighten that up

instead of blabbing.

I'll hurt you.

Give it your best shot.

I forgot, you're a man.

You know what it is to suffer.

You were in the war.

Maybe I suffered,

but not as much as others.

Not as much as who?

Haven't you asked enough questions?

Hardy, given your brief replies.

You want my trust,

but it's all one way.

In '43,

I led a group in the Resistance.

Incredible guys

I'd known all my life.

Barthlmy, Pierrot

and Roger, the Blaiseaus' son.

Two weeks before the Liberation,

our camp was attacked.

We were being shot at...

I heard them go down one by one.

The last one I saw was Roger.

I fled.

I kept running for hours

until I realised

nobody was running after me.

I've helped a lot of people in my life,

but I've never saved anyone.

If you keep that up,

the blood will be cut off,

they'll have to amputate.

Serves you right

for showing off to another man's wife.

Load.

Unload.

Faster!

Top score in the qualifying round...

Pamphyle!

Faster!

Top score in the fourth round...

Pamphyle!

Top score in the quarterfinals...

Pamphyle!

Return.

Faster!

Top score in the semifinals...

Pamphyle!

- Faster!

- I can't go faster than the machine.

Faster!

Ladies and gentlemen,

we are proud to present,

with a score of 491 keystrokes a minute,

the new speed-typing champion

of Normandy...

Rose Pamphyle!

Jean, sir!

Rose is in the newspaper!

She's famous!

THE NORMANDY GIRL WITH MAGIC FINGERS

Being famous isn't a job.

435 francs, please.

I always knew you had something.

A real virtuoso!

I'd love to come and support you in Paris.

My husband won't let me.

The National Championship,

how thrilling!

I lost my voice,

screaming your name from the stands.

She hasn't been so excited

since our wedding night.

Quiet, please!

This is a place ofwork.

For the most beautiful rose of all.

Very subtle.

Thank you.

How about bumper cars tonight?

To celebrate your victory.

Actually, I have training.

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