Surviving Picasso Page #10

you couldn't leave him,

he's an historical monument?

Why are you and the child...

historical monument?

Are you going back

to visit him?

She is taking the children

to visit their father.

Is that so difficult

to understand?

Picasso:
4, 5, 6,

7, 8, 9, 10.

1, 2, 3,

4, 5,

6, 7, 8,

9, 10, 11,

12, 13, 14,

15, ha ha ha.

Good. Fine.

Somebody changed these hooks.

Yes, I did,

to make it fit me.

He told me to wear it.

He said he had given it to you,

that it was a present from him.

So it was perfectly all right

for him to give it to you.

That sounds familiar.

Well, you left him.

And you stepped in very fast.

Yes,

and now I am here

to look after him

to serve him with the last

breath in my body.

Be careful. He may

take you at your word.

He loves to turn his

friends into his slaves.

I don't care

this much for myself.

I'm here for him,

and for him alone.

I'm making a whole series,

all about a ludicrous

little painter

and his gloriously

beautiful young model.

He loves her. She despises him.

Why shouldn't she?

He's only an ugly old monster.

I'm giving her a pet

monkey to kiss and fondle

and make the little old

man sick with jealousy.

Doesn't it make you laugh?

Yes, it's funny.

So funny, it makes me weep.

Why should you weep?

It is I who should weep.

What wouldn't I give

to be like you.

30 years old, even 40.

Settle for 40,

but in these matters, there's

no one to make a deal with.

There's been no fun

in my life since you left.

No one makes me laugh anymore.

I suppose you're having

all the fun in Paris.

Mmm.

Yeah.

Is someone listening?

No. Hinge needs oiling.

See, no one does

anything since you left.

Why don't you come back?

I didn't call you.

I... I brought some more

kindling for the stove.

Well, leave it there.

I'll wait, monseigneur.

I'll call you when I need you.

"Monseigneur," no less?

Jacqueline treats me

with proper respect.

Not like you.

For you, respect means

to be your slave.

You were glad enough

to be that when you loved me.

Yes, when I loved you.

I was a slave to love,

not to you.

You think you can throw

a life away just like that?

Hmm? All these years.

Our cup full of memories.

Francoise:
That you and

I have drunk together?

Francoise.

No.

All right. At least

let's be friends.

I want you to do

something for me.

What is it?

I want...

if I don't stoke it now,

the stove will go out.

Picasso:
All right,

do it, then.

Yes, they're having

a bullfight in my honor

in vallauris

on the 30th, and, uh...

I want you to perform the opening

ceremony for me on horseback.

But I don't have a

trained horse down here.

We'll find one for you in nice.

That's impossible.

Huh, why?

Francoise mustn't ride into the arena

to open the bullfight, she can't.

Why not?

It's immoral.

What will the newspapers say?

Let the papers

say what they want,

and I'll do what I want.

Of course you are right.

I was stupid.

Monseigneur.

Quiet.

On the whole, I prefer a woman

with not too much sense of humor.

Yeah. Oh.

Yeah.

Francoise:
This was my own

personal homage to Picasso

for all that he had given me: Our

children, our years together...

for all I'd learned

from being with him.

Now, at 74, he was starting a new

life with, of course, a new woman.

But I was grateful

to him for everything,

and most of all because

he had made me strong...

strong enough to do anything,

even to survive 10 years

of living with him.

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