The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie Page #2

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They'll be right down.

Help yourselves to drinks.

Fine.

- What will it be?

- As you like.

- Same for me.

- How about you, Florence?

I wouldn't mind...

a dry martini.

My sister shouldn't drink.

You should've seen her last night.

She was dead drunk.

She threw up everywhere.

In the elevator, in the taxi.

It was awful.

- And her fingernails were filthy.

- They were not!

You're the one who...

Dry martinis for everyone?

There's nothing more relaxing

than a dry martini.

I read it in a woman's magazine.

I'll mix them.

I'm afraid these glasses

are out of style.

For a dry martini the classic

cone-shaped glass is best.

Here's one.

This is just about right.

The ice cubes come first.

They have to be first-rate.

Very cold, very hard.

About 20 to 30 degrees below zero.

Like these.

What are you doing?

Then we pour the gin.

Stir to cool it, then serve.

Rafael knows a dry martini

must be sipped like champagne.

We'll try something.

Get your chauffeur.

What do you want with him?

You'll see.

Honey, if you prefer

the 30's New York style,

you can add a few

drops of Pernod.

Maurice!

- Come in a minute?

- Right away, Your Excellency.

Do us the pleasure

of having a drink with us.

Thank you, sir.

- Your health, ladies and gentlemen.

- And yours.

That's fine, Maurice.

You may go now.

Did you see that?

That was precisely the way

not to drink a dry martini.

You're being hard on Maurice.

He's a commoner. He's uneducated.

No system can give the masses

the proper social graces.

But you know me,

I'm not a reactionary.

Where are our hosts?

I don't know, Madame. They left.

What do you mean, left?

I saw them running into the garden.

- When was this?

- 4 or 5 minutes ago.

- Where were they going?

- I don't know.

Excuse me, Madame.

What's the meaning of this?

I don't know.

Someone may have informed the police.

A raid.

You think so?

Why else would they run off

like that?

- They could have warned us!

- They may not have had time.

- Let's get out of here.

- Right.

Come on, quick!

- We have to go!

- Why?

But we're fine here.

We must get out of here.

And go where?

Never you mind. Come on.

Get going. And fast.

I'm Monsignor Dufour,

bishop of this diocese.

Are Mr. and Mrs. Snchal at home?

No, Your Grace, they're not.

- Where are they?

- I don't know.

They had lunch guests,

but they all left.

- Will they be back?

- I think so, Your Grace.

- May I wait for them?

- Why, of course.

I'd like to sit down,

if you have no objections.

- I'm a bit tired.

- Please do, Your Grace.

You walked all the way?

I had a car, but

I sold it to help the poor.

- Would you like a drink?

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