Monsieur Verdoux Page #12

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Here they are.

Well, you will take them in there,

make yourself at home.

- Merci.

- Merci.

I don't know whether this will

appeal. Eggs, toast and red wine.

- Wonderful!

- Be seated.

Thank you.

You're tired. So right after supper,

I shall take you to your hotel.

You're kind. I don't understand

why you're doing all this.

Why not? Is a little kindness

such a rare thing?

I was beginning to think it was.

- The toast! Pardon me.

- Can I help you?

No, no, stay where you are.

I can manage.

- Voil.

- You're funny.

- Am I? Why?

- I don't know.

However, you're hungry.

Please go ahead.

- What book is that?

- Schopenhauer.

- Do you like him?

- So, so.

Have you read his treatise

on suicide?

- Wouldn't interest me.

- Not if the end was simple?

Say you went to sleep,

and there was a sudden stoppage.

Wouldn't you prefer it

to this drab existence?

- I wonder.

- The approach of death terrifies.

I suppose if the unborn

knew of the approach of life,

they'd be just as terrified.

- Yet life is wonderful.

- What's wonderful about it?

Everything, a spring morning,

a summer's night, music, art, love -

- Love?

- There is such a thing.

- How do you know?

- I was in love once.

- Physically attracted by someone?

- It was more than that.

Women are capable of something more.

You don't like women?

On the contrary,

I love but don't admire them.

Why?

Women are of the earth, realistic,

dominated by physical facts.

What nonsense.

Once a woman betrays a man,

she despises him.

In spite of his goodness, she will

give him up for someone inferior,

if that someone is more,

shall we say, attractive.

How little you know about women.

You'd be surprised.

That isn't love.

- What is love?

- Giving, sacrificing.

What a mother feels for her child.

- Did you love that way?

- Yes.

- Whom?

- My husband.

You're married?

I was. He died while I was in jail.

I see. Tell me about him.

That's a long story.

He was wounded in the war,

an invalid.

An invalid?

That's why I loved him.

He needed me, depended on me.

He was like a child.

But he was more than a child to me.

He was a religion. My very breath.

I'd have killed for him.

No, love is something

very real and deep.

I know that.

- However.

- Pardon me.

I believe there's a little cork

in that wine.

Let me get you another glass.

A penny for your thoughts.

Oh, no.

- More wine?

- Thank you, no more.

Come, it's very late

and you're tired.

Here.

This will tide you over

for a day or so.

- Good luck.

- Thank you.

Oh, this is too much.

Silly, carrying on this way.

I was beginning to lose faith.

Then this happens and you want

to believe all over again.

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