Reunion in France Page #3

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And talented?

As the military governor, his talent is taken

for granted, as is the piety of the clergy.

Or the discretion of the Gestapo?

Most assuredly.

My dear, I haven't been able

to take my eyes off your gown.

- Montanot, of course?

- Of course.

Emmy, you simply

must let Montanot dress you.

Oh, I'm afraid I haven't mademoiselle's

natural assets.

Nonsense, the clothes make the figure.

Isn't that so, Pookie? Pookie.

Oh, anything you say, my dear, anything.

Oh, George.

- So pleased to have met you.

- It's been so nice.

Do your eyes bother you, mademoiselle?

They seem somewhat strained.

I'm afraid I'm not used to this much light.

I've lived in a blackout so long.

It must be like suddenly

recovering one's vision.

- Yes, it is, a little.

- Hello.

This will interest you,

Monsieur Cortot.

Mademoiselle has been having

her eyes opened.

How fortunate that the first thing

she saw was you, Herr Windler.

There's a legend to the effect

that there are many Herr Windlers.

All exactly alike and interchangeable.

Really?

I'd heard the same legend about...

What's his name?

- Hitler.

- Mademoiselle.

Well, that has no basis in fact.

Michele, General Schroeder was delighted

to arrange for you to stay here...

...and Martin is ready to show you

an apartment whenever you like.

I'd like to see it now, if I may.

Are you ready, Martin?

Excuse me.

Robert, we'd better join the general.

Of course.

This is very pretty.

There is an exceptional view of the city.

I've seen Paris before.

Not this Paris, mademoiselle.

The bedroom suite is this way.

Wait.

Martin, you've known me for a long time.

When you were little,

you wanted to marry me...

...so that you could always

have chocolate pudding.

At my first ball, it was you who fastened

my dress when it came undone.

Such memories belong

to another lifetime, mademoiselle.

One which has come to an end.

And which, unfortunately,

some of us have outlived.

But why have our lifetimes come to an end,

our private little worlds?

What's become of him?

- Of whom?

- Monsieur Cortot.

- Really, mademoiselle, I don't know.

- Martin, tell me.

From this suite, you can see the Louvre

as you have never seen it.

Empty, looted of all

our national treasures.

At night, you will hear the rumble

as they cart them away to Berlin...

...in the new, heavy trucks

designed by Monsieur Cortot.

In the morning, you will see squadrons

of the new Cortot bombers...

...flying to their bases.

Later, you will hear the clatter

of the new Cortot tanks along the streets.

French factories have performed miracles

of production since the fall of France.

It's a noisy apartment, mademoiselle...

...but it has the virtue of muffling the daily

firing squads from across the Seine.

I can't believe it.

He's a Frenchman, Martin.

He loves France.

So much that her enemies are his friends.

So devotedly that her poverty

has become his fortune.

To drain the blood of France

from her veins and sell it to Hitler.

- Surely, greater love hath no Frenchman.

- You've no right to say such things.

But you know Monsieur Cortot.

You know they're not true.

Will you see the other rooms?

I won't want the apartment.

I don't like the view.

Mademoiselle is not returning

to the dinner?

I'm returning to France.

Goodbye, mademoiselle.

Goodbye, Martin, and thank you.

You're under arrest.

Come with me and speak to no one.

I didn't realize that a room full of Germans

would upset you so.

There was one too many.

Who let you in?

Both doors were unlocked.

If you insist upon being brave,

at least learn to be careful.

Don't tell me your guests

have finished their dinner.

At that, I'm surprised they can still eat,

after gobbling up most of France.

I explained very carefully

that you were suddenly indisposed.

After all, your sudden return to Paris,

the trying weeks behind you...

Very plausible and very smooth.

Almost as good as something

Herr Windler might think up.

Or do you believe all of that yourself?

I want to, with all my heart.

There are so many things

that occupy all of your heart.

They all have to do with you.

Then don't go back to them.

Robert, stay with me.

- Michele...

- With all of your heart and all of mine.

We'll have so much more

than they can ever give us.

You know that. We both knew it.

That night at the train,

when we were truly in love...

...and everything that happened

became unimportant.

Michele, so much...

So much has happened since.

But not to us. We can go away.

We'll leave Paris and go to France.

We'll have each other

as we knew we would.

- Michele...

- I'll make you happy, I promise.

And when our money goes?

We'll have no more money.

What will we live on?

Whatever it is

that keeps Frenchmen alive.

They are not alive.

Living doesn't mean just breathing.

What does it mean, Robert?

To us?

- To you.

- It's the same for both of us.

Living is to have today

at least what we had yesterday.

Because we are not equipped for

anything else, because it's our destiny...

...we have been bred and taught

to live from the top of the bottle.

We are not a staple of society, Michele,

we are just a byproduct.

We bloom in a greenhouse

and die in the field.

You have changed.

How?

I knew you when there were five days

in which to do the work of five months.

When your devotion to France

made you angry with me.

- I was wrong.

- Oh, no, you were right.

I must've known it,

but I didn't care then.

- After France was betrayed, I...

- Conquered is a better word.

Betrayed is a truer one.

Betrayed, sold, dishonored and delivered

to the rats you eat and live with.

Certainly you've changed,

from a Frenchman to a Nazi.

And you, when did you develop

this sudden tender bond with the masses?

- Don't you...

- Michele.

We weren't born to make sacrifices,

we two.

Let's say our politics don't agree,

but there's so much more in which we do.

You told me once I reminded you of France

because I was selfish and spoiled.

I'm not anymore, and neither is she.

Whatever she is now, I am too.

You're quoting standard patriotic clichs.

The one thing you will not do is face reality.

Apparently one man's reality

is another man's treason.

I'll face mine my way.

You will undoubtedly get into trouble

and need my treasonable help.

- Will you let me help you?

- No.

Good night, Michele.

Guten Tag to you too.

Hello, Juliette.

Good morning, mademoiselle.

Since when have you become

a saleswoman?

Mannequins are running

to larger sizes now.

- Did you wish to see Montanot?

- Please.

Marie.

Thank you, but I've found

a saleslady who speaks French.

Very chic.

- What model is this?

- An American model. It's called the Blimp.

Is it the latest?

It'll take Paris at least six months

to get used to it.

- Mademoiselle, welcome back to Paris.

- Thank you, Montanot. I would like...

You and Monsieur Cortot

are both to be congratulated.

I would like to talk to you.

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