THE SIGN OF LEO
June 22
Shit.
-Who's there? -Mr Wesselrin?
-Who's there? Shit. -Telegram.
I'm coming, I'm coming.
Hold on.
-Mr Wesselrin? -Yes.
Sorry, I don't have any change.
Hello, Paris Match? Can I speak to Mr Jean-Fran�ois Santeuil?
It's Pierre Wesselrin. Thank you.
Hello. Jean-Fran�ois?
Listen up. Are you listening? My aunt died and left me an inheritance.
Of course she exists. She's dead, isn't she?
She left me an inheritance, I'm telling you.
I don't know. There are two factories in Germany, one in Switzerland,
a load of plantations in Brazil.
Yes, I share it with my cousin.
It's a first cousin, a moron. He's the only one.
Yes. I just found out, I'm telling you.
Funeral's on Wednesday. I'm taking the train tomorrow.
Listen, buddy, are you free tonight? This calls for a major bash.
Money? Yours, of course.
I'm rich. I've got an inheritance. I'll pay you back 1 00 times.
No, right away. Don't be cheap.
500 francs. You have 500 francs. I'll pay you back a thousand in a month.
-Who is it? -It's me.
-Pierre? -Yes, it's me.
-Just a second. -Don't worry, we know it's hot.
I'll keep my eyes closed.
Listen, kid.
-What's going on? Are you drunk? -If we aren't yet, we will be.
Come on, get dressed. Quick. We're out of here. We're throwing a bash.
-My aunt died and left me a bundle. -1 3 factories in Belgium, 1 4 in Switzerland.
-Your aunt? -Yes, yes, my wealthy aunt.
-For real? Really? -Yes, yes. It's really for real, really.
Fantastic!
There's Fred.
Fred, want to come with us? We're going to the Royal.
You're not stopping? Okay. Waiter!
What's the plan, Pierre? Where are we going?
We'll eat at my place. It'll be much better.
-We'll pick up some groceries. -Yes, your place. Good idea.
-Who are you inviting? -Everyone!
There's no one left in the neighbourhood. No one but bums.
I don't care. I'll treat all the bums.
Hello, I'd like to speak to Miss Dominique Laurent, please.
Do you know when she'll be back?
Willy!
-Hi, Willy. -Hello. How are you?
Hello.
-What are you up to tonight? -Why? What's happening?
Dinner on us. He inherited a bundle.
-No way! -It's true. He's a millionaire.
Right, Pierre?
-These things happen. -Congratulations.
-Thanks. -Take a seat.
-Yes, but... -Bring your girlfriend.
Oh, she's a friend. Chris, come here!
-Hello. -Hello.
-Sir. -Miss.
-Hello. -Take a seat.
-Where do we put all this? -Wherever.
-Can I make a call? -Be my guest.
Guess what, they're kicking me out.
Who? What's-his-name Bernac?
-Yeah, the apartment's been sold. -You couldn't care less now.
What's been sold?
Well, you're a lucky fool.
-Can I give you a hand? -Please.
The best aperitif in the world, splash of cassis with a splash of white wine.
I don't like white wine.
Show a bit of class, kids, damn it! Eat, stuff your face!
Look, he's stuffing his face.
-Put them here? -Yeah, perfect.
Sorry.
-Jean-Fran�ois, are you coming? -Yeah, just hang on.
-He's calling his girl. -Oh, yeah, the tall one.
-Dominique. She's very pretty. -Gorgeous Dominique.
-Yes, she's a very pretty girl, but... -But what?
-You've always got a ''but''. -Relax.
-I mean women in general. -With a face like yours, you shouldn't talk.
-Pour me a drink. -Good, drink up.
It's not for me. It's for Jean-Fran�ois.
Okay, fine, she's the most beautiful girl in Paris. Really, it's true.
-Sorry, Cathy. -I'm not jealous.
Of course, Pierre isn't the type to let money go to his head.
-What's he saying? -Pure nonsense!
Tell him off!
Careful not to let your Pierre get away.
Hello, I'd like to speak to Miss Dominique Laurent, please.
Your glass.
Hello. Is that you, Dominique?
I've been looking for you all day.
-What's going on? -None of your business.
Let them bicker. Is it what I said about the money?
-I guess. -What? No harm done.
That's what you think.
She really doesn't look like a gold-digger type of girl.
And you, what do you look like?
Cool!
After all, if they love each other or get married...
Oh, shut it off!
See? I don't care.
On the contrary, it amuses me.
There's nothing to steal here. Nothing but old books.
You don't have to steal anything!
If you don't want to come, don't come.
No, no. There's hardly anyone here.
Yeah, these things always bore me to tears.
Hang on. Someone else just arrived. I'll let you go.
Yes, I'll call you.
-Hi. How are you? -Fine.
No luck. I called three girls, not one of them was free.
No big deal.
You know Michel Caron, photographer at the magazine?
-Hello. -Hello.
-Fr�d�ric... -Lanvert.
At last!
Here's our friend, my last remaining friend, my old friend Camus.
-Caron. -Of course, Caron.
We've met before, in fact. Yes, last month at Flore.
It's possible.
We're celebrating an event that's quite amazing.
Well, congratulations.
This is Cathy. The more I think about it, the more amazing it seems.
How are you?
Good to see you. How are you?
-Good evening. -I didn't see you there.
What'll you have? Here's a little Beaujolais poem.
It's a Bon Dieu, not a Bercy. You're a connoisseur, aren't you?
The others here are ascetics. They know nothing about drinking.
Look at this guy. He's been stuffing his face since 6:00.
Stop it, and come here.
Give me that.
Give it.
You know what I was dreaming about when the telegrapher woke me?
That I had completed my sonata for violin.
I heard it all, the whole thing. I'll play it for you.
It's gone. That damn telegrapher is to blame.
I'm sure that if I had woken myself,
I could've transcribed my entire sonata.
Come on, let's get some air.
This heat.
You know, ideas have always come to me in my sleep.
Fortune, too!
-I prefer fortune. -Really?
Anyway, I've always believed more in my luck than in my talent.
-Don't be modest. -Yes, what can I say?
I've always excelled at laziness.
In that domain, I'm second to none.
-It's a stifling night. -I hate summer in the city.
The first thing I'll do is buy a house in the provinces.
For 1 0 years, I've dreamt of seeing the sky.
But you have the best view in Paris.
Yes, Notre Dame, the Pont Neuf...
But the sky. You call that a sky? There's not a single star.
Not one. There's one over there. It's Venus.
-The evening star. -Yes, it's opposite the sun.
It'll disappear till September. Then, we'll see it in the morning,
because it's closer to the sun than Earth.
That's why no one lives there.
Really?
-Yes, but today, music... -Why, are you a musician?
No. In theory, I'm a painter.
Do you exhibit?
You could say that.
No, I dabble. Mostly I sell others' paintings.
And that's pushing it.
It's strange, but every time I checked my horoscope,
the predictions came true.
-Until I turned 40, I would... -Flounder.
Well, yes.
After that, it's either fortune or destitution.
And seeing as I turn 40 on August 2,
the stars are simply a month and a half early.
-Amazing, isn't it? -You're a Leo?
-Yes. -Me, too.
That's marvellous. It's the noblest sign, the sign of conquerors.
It's governed by the sun.
Yes.
-And you must be... Aquarius? -Yes.
-Is that good? -They're all good or bad,
depending on whether the stars are aligned in a positive or negative way.
So it always works out.
It's not just the month that counts, but the hour at which you were born, too.
The sun governs my sign, but Venus is my star.
The astrologists call it ''the second governing planet''
or ''ascendant planet''.
I didn't know you were so knowledgeable and superstitious.
Dear friends, don't poke fun.
Astrology is the oldest and most precise science of all.
Of all, I say. And I admire it immensely.
You're full of it!
I have an idea.
No, no, no. Don't start trouble. Be careful.
You'll see, I'll salute Venus in my manner.
In the manner of a Leo! Because Leos love Venus, and Venus loves Leos.
Pierre, you're crazy! You'll start trouble. The police are across the street.
I don't give a damn about the cops. I'm rich. I'll pay the fines.
-You're not going to shoot the star, are you? -No, I've a better idea.
This is going overboard.
Hide this.
-Here. -Where the hell do I put it?
-Heavy silence. -Put a record on.
Pierre, this is foolish.
-They're kicking me out, anyway. -Quiet.
Let them in. If they holler, we'll holler louder.
-What's going on? -It's Mr Lacroix!
Long live Mr Lacroix! Mr Lacroix, let me kiss you.
Do you realise it's after 1 1 :00?
Quiet, Mr Lacroix. I want to kiss you first.
-You'll be sorry if the police hear you. -A little kiss, Mr Lacroix.
Let me hug you!
Oh, Mr Lacroix! I'm a millionaire, Mr Lacroix.
You'll be holidaying at my beautiful castle.
You'll be frolicking on my lawn.
You'll be emptying my wine cellar.
-Lucky man. -Lucky man!
Kids, let's not trouble this good man Lacroix.
Shall we take a turn around Montmartre?
Come on, come on. Let's go up there.
Oh, those two.
Come on! We're eating up there.
-No, here's good. -There's a table.
Look at him, sitting on the ground.
A door must always be either open or closed.
I want a Western.
A Western.
-You're hurting my arm. -Shut up.
-How about some fruit juice? -Sure.
-Do you have glasses? -I have one here.
-Tomato juice. -Thanks.
Thanks.
So end memorable nights,
in dirty dishes and dead tobacco.
If Fred's going to start waxing poetic now...
You're so bitter.
I'm not sad for myself, but for Pierre.
Money'll be the end of him.
-On the contrary, I think it'll... -Yes, I know.
It would've been different if he was younger.
Still, he's one of the rare few who know how to enjoy life.
-So that proves you wrong. -It's too late now.
Money is useless when you've gotten used to living without it.
I picture him obese, smoking cigars.
Come on. The sun is rising. Shall we go?
Yes.
Here we are.
-Good night. -Good night.
-Bye, Jean-Fran�ois. -Good night, Dominique.
-See you tomorrow. -See you tomorrow.
I'll phone you at 4:00.
The magazine called. Here.
Call the magazine as soon as possible. Depart for Hassi Messaoud this afternoon.
July 1 3
-Yes, that's much prettier. -Like this?
Yes, there.
-I talked to the concierge. -Yes?
Firstly, he no longer lives at Quai des Grands Augustins.
Sounds like it got messy. The bailiff had to evict him.
Secondly, he went to the Mont Blanc Hotel.
Thirdly, I phone the Mont Blanc Hotel. They've never heard of Wesselrin.
I must've talked to a temp. They hung up.
Maybe there are several Mont Blanc hotels.
No, this was the one. He might've registered under a false name
or left without paying. Until he gets his inheritance...
-But he can borrow money. -From whom?
He really doesn't know many people here.
From a notary public, silly.
In that case, he'd be in Austria.
Yet he's in Paris since he phones the magazine all the time.
Wouldn't Cathy know?
She must be on holiday at her parents'.
-Hello, sir. -Hello, sir.
Do you know where I can find Mr Wesselrin?
Mister who?
-Mr Wesselrin. -He's no longer here, sir.
Do you know... Do you know his new address?
No, sir. I'm looking for him, too.
If you find him, remind him about me.
I run a business, sir. I can't give him credit indefinitely.
Mr Wesselrin disappeared without paying a week's lodging.
He left his suitcases. What should I do with them?
They're incompetent. They call this filter coffee.
-Hey, Willy! -Hi.
-All right? -Not bad.
-And you? Where have you been? -I've been travelling.
-Have you seen Fred? -He's on the coast.
Oh, your friend was looking for you yesterday. Yes, the American.
-Wesselrin? You saw him? -Yeah. Didn't you know?
His inheritance story was hot air. He claims his aunt left everything to his cousin.
-Shit! Where's he living? -I don't know.
Willy, what's keeping you?
Sorry, I've got to go. I think he hangs out in the neighbourhood every night.
Well, Jean-Fran�ois, poor guy, I think your 500 francs...
It can't be. Pierre wouldn't have made up such a story.
Well done, the inheritance scam.
Wait a minute. Maybe he went to the magazine this morning. I'll go find out.
Pierre can brag about having good friends.
Jean-Fran�ois isn't doing him a favour by being so nice.
Tonight?
Yes, he's with us.
Okay, I'll be right there.
So?
It's not that. We're both leaving tonight for South Africa
on the 6:45 plane to Johannesburg.
Shit.
Shit! I've tried to be in Paris for the national holiday for five years without luck.
It's unbelievable.
Madam, can you connect me to Balzac 0024, please?
Hello, Paris Match? Is Santeuil back or is he at home?
What? Already? The plane? For how long?
Fine, fine, fine. Okay.
Oh, yes!
Excuse me.
-Oh, Pierre! -Ah, Philippe.
-Haven't seen you around for a while. -Oh, you know. I've been busy.
-Where are you running off to? -Oh.
Must be a girl. I won't pry.
Yes, that's it. I'm with a gorgeous girl.
Good job, buddy. Way to go!
Oh, no, Philippe. I'm broke tonight, and I'll lose her because of it.
-No, you won't. Go get her. -She's dancing.
You're not dancing with her?
If she's that gorgeous, someone'll steal her away, buddy.
Go and get her. Believe me.
Quick, quick, right away. Someone'll steal her.
Okay, be right back.
-How's it going, Mr Pierre? -Not bad.
What a crowd. Have you been here long?
I'm French. And you?
Me, I'm everything. American, Austrian, Swiss.
Yes, vaguely.
-Come have a drink with me. -I can't. I'm with someone.
-I've been looking everywhere for you. -Come on, let's go.
-Philippe. -There you are!
No date?
-Philippe, sorry for earlier... -That gorgeous blonde took off?
-How did you know she was blonde? -You mean she really did take off?
I wouldn't have believed it!
Listen, Philippe, I'm in a horrible spot.
Don't worry, old buddy. You're better off with brunettes. That's all.
At our age, you know, there's no shame in getting turned down.
My problem really is women.
I'm in trouble, ruined. My aunt disinherited me. I don't even know...
So you'll have to change your lifestyle, eh?
It was bound to happen one day.
Well, buddy, don't count on me to give you a cent.
Philippe, I'm in desperate need of 1 00 francs to pay my rent tomorrow.
So that story about the blonde was nothing but hot air?
Why didn't you tell me straight out?
You would've turned me down. Plus, we weren't alone.
Well, what can you do? At your age, beggars can't be choosers.
Stop preaching! I want 1 00 francs, and that's it.
Okay, here's your 1 00 francs, and that's it.
-Thank you very much. -Come have a drink.
-No, really. Thanks. Enjoy your holiday. -I'm leaving tomorrow. Good luck!
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July 30
Hello, beautiful.
Madam.
Hey, Mr Wesselrin, you can't leave with your luggage.
This isn't my luggage, madam. It's my briefcase.
That is your luggage. And it'll teach me not to take in anyone without luggage.
Madam, I'll pay you tomorrow.
Listen up, my husband gets home at 3:00. If you haven't paid by tonight...
-Madam, I'll pay you tomorrow. -You don't fool me. Not anymore.
-No, madam, I'm telling you... -This time...
Fine! Do what you will.
Shut up, you old bag!
Yes, I'll give you 50 francs apiece for thrillers, sir.
So you have eight, that's 4 francs.
-Here you are. -Thank you.
-Good-bye, sir. -Bye.
Give me a lottery ticket...
A token, please.
Fifty, a hundred. There you go.
Thanks.
This number cannot be connected...
Hello, can I speak with Mrs De N�ri, please?
-Who's calling? -Pierre Wesselrin.
Pierre, how are you?
You're lucky to catch me. I'm here between two trips.
-You haven't left yet? -No, I'm in Paris at the moment.
-And you're leaving... -This afternoon.
I'm bored.
Would you allow me to accompany you to the station?
-Excellent idea. -At what time?
Here's what we'll do.
I have a meeting at the Paris. Come by at 3.:00. Okay?
Perfect.
-I've got to go. See you later. Good-bye. -Good-bye.
-A piece of Brie, please. -Anything else?
-A can of sardines. -Seventy-five and ninety.
One franc and seventy.
-Fifty-five francs. -Thank you.
Madam, a baguette, please.
-Here you are, sir. -Thank you.
Thirty-four francs.
-Thirty-five, forty and fifty. There. -Thank you.
-Madam? -A baguette, please.
Thirty-four francs. Thirty-five, forty, fifty. There.
Oh, shit!
Bloody hell!
Sir! Unbelievable.
Hello, could you call Mrs De N�ri, please?
De N�ri. She's a client.
When did she leave?
Hello. Do you have a stain remover?
-Is it a grease stain? -It's oil.
-For oil, there's trichloroethylene, benzene... -How much?
-Eighty francs. -I'll take it.
Yes, sir.
Here. Please see the cashier. Eighty francs for the gentleman.
Good-bye, sir.
Your key, please.
So you're not leaving your key on the board anymore?
Sorry, I was in a rush. Anyway, I'm going back up.
-Your key. -But I'm going back up.
-Your key, or I'll call the police. -But, sir, I need it.
-Pay up and I'll give it to you. -But I'll pay you tomorrow, I said.
-Tomorrow? Yeah, right. Tomorrow. -Yes, tomorrow. I'm getting some money.
Money? What money? And just what is it you do, anyway?
-What? I'm a musician. -Musician? Oh, I know your tune.
This isn't the end of it. My brother-in-law is a cop.
-A cop? Doesn't scare me. -Say that again. Say it again. We'll see!
-That's right, we'll see. -Touch me, and you'll be in the slammer.
We're calling now.
Come on.
Hello, can I speak with Mr Francis Bernac, please?
-What number do you want? -Passy 2528.
-You've got the wrong number. -Oh, sorry.
Hello, can I speak with Mr Francis Bernac, please?
-Mr Bernac isn't here. -He's not in Paris?
-He's in the country. -In Normandy?
-That's right. -Thank you.
Bastard.
-775 francs in all. -Yes, yes.
-No luggage? -No.
-We take cash only. -Yes, but I'm not sure I'll be staying.
At least pay for the night. It's the same price.
Listen, madam, my luggage is at the little caf� nearby.
Whether you pay today or...
No. In the end, Roland isn't the guy for you.
Yes, I know. But what can I say? It still hurts.
-Why? -It always rains in Brittany.
-Yes, but that's its charm, isn't it? -You think? I prefer the sun.
-Saint-Tropez? -Where it's warm, like Saint-Tropez, yes.
-Don't you? -Oh, no. I much prefer...
-Pardon? -...the rain.
In any case, I prefer winter over summer.
Excuse me.
-Oh, Pierre. Have a drink with me. -I'm not thirsty.
-It's on me. Come on! -All right.
Let's stay. I don't believe you. I know you too well.
You know if I say we'll come back, we'll come back.
You're a clinging bore.
-Come on. -No.
Come on, just five minutes.
-What'll you have? -Coffee.
Two coffees.
I'm in trouble, pal. Deep trouble.
What about your friends? You hung around rich guys. You had connections.
On holiday, dead, disappeared. No, I'm serious.
You absolutely must find me a place to crash tonight.
I told you, I'm with a girl.
If she was understanding, at least, but she's a real pain in the ass.
-And your friends? -Everyone's at the coast.
Anyway, even if someone could take you in, it'd be for a day.
I don't know. Find a girl.
There are tons of American girls looking for a guy.
I'm broke and filthy.
What I need is money. Know any schemes?
-What about your music? -Yeah, right.
My music has never earned me a cent and it won't start now.
Plus, you can see the shape I'm in.
-Go to the coast. People get by there. -How?
That's true. I can't see you hitchhiking.
Hey, I might have something. Do you know Radesco? The Romanian.
A tall, balding guy. He was looking for someone.
I can let you in on it. It's for smuggling things past customs.
Plus, you speak English. German, too, I think.
He might have something for you. Obviously, you could get caught.
-I don't care. Take me to this Radesco. -I haven't seen him in ages.
But hang on, I think I have his address.
Wait, yes, there it is. 1 2 Carriers Street in Nanterre.
But I don't have his phone number.
He's always home before noon.
1 2 Carriers Street in... Nanterre?
-Yeah. -You think I'll go to that hole? You're nuts!
Listen, buddy. Here's what I'll do. Give me 30 francs
to pay for a pack of Gauloises. That's all I need.
And I'll give you two metro tickets.
-You do have 30 francs? -Let me see.
-Just enough. -No, you gave me six francs too much.
Keep them. You never know. You have two kilometres to go on foot.
What? It won't kill you.
-What do you want? -Mr Radesco.
-He's not here. -Where is he?
He's not here.
-When will he be back? -No.
-Tomorrow? -No, he's on a trip.
-When will he be back? -He's gone!
But when will he be back?
-No, wait! -Oh, give me that.
You should think twice at your age.
You'll ruin your figure.
You understand? I'm fine with it, as long as they know what they want.
-Yes, of course. -Listen...
-Hi. -Hi. How are you?
-Hi. -I thought you'd be over there.
-You're crazy. You'll be burnt to a crisp. -I love the sun.
You're so tanned. I'm as pale as a ghost.
-Here, do you want a cookie? -Sure. Thanks.
-And you? -No, thanks. It'll make me thirsty.
-Want something to drink? -Yes, please. With pleasure.
-Orange or lemon? -Just a minute. Lemon.
-How's work? -Good, I think. I have the best boss.
-How much do you make? 500? -No, 450. Plus medical insurance.
-Here. -Thanks. How much do I owe you?
-Nothing. It's on me. -You're crazy!
My pleasure.
So that's a 50 franc difference. That's quite a bit.
Of course. You see, it's the holidays that cost the most.
Oh, yes, we spent 30 francs in Corsica last year.
-Really? Per person? -No, no, no. For the two of us.
-In a campground? -No, in a hotel.
-Camping is even more expensive. -Yes, and we did it one year, so really...
-Yes, you need to buy all the equipment. -You need to carry it, cook...
Sorry.
-Excuse me. -Excuse me.
I've already asked you to stop talking back.
Look there!
Come on.
-Hello. How are you? -Fine, thanks.
-Oh, he's adorable! -He's not that adorable.
-Will you stay with us? -Yes, yes, I'll stay.
That's excellent news.
Go on without me. I'm staying with Catherine.
As you can see, I'm ambitious. I can't swim, you know.
-You can't? -No, I can't swim.
-You're very courageous. -I trust them.
Well, you better. You never know what could happen.
-Oh, you can't think about that. -I'm a bit of a pessimist.
Then you better not come with us!
Come here, Fink.
Come here, Fink. Come here right now!
-Would you be quiet? -Oh, let him be.
Come and get it, housewives! Get the last of my bananas, one franc!
Come on, ladies. My bananas are going for one franc!
Look, ladies. One franc for six. Come and get it!
Fifty francs a basket.
Oh, the bastard!
What's going on?
-Let me go! -You bastard.
-Let me go! -Think you can get away with it?
If I see you around here again, you'll get more of the same.
Stinking rotter!
Maybe he stole it because he's hungry.
-Those bums should get a job! -You shouldn't hit people.
Mind your own business. It's my problem.
-Or you should feed him. -You're such a brute.
That's enough. That's enough!
-He's right. -You didn't see a thing. Be quiet.
You think he'd pay for your supper? This is an outrage.
Someone steals from me and I'm supposed to stand there and say thanks. Damn it!
BAKERY
Sir?
Madam, could you give me six francs' worth of bread, please?
Nine francs.
-Six francs. -All right.
Thank you.
-What would you like? -A well-cooked baguette.
Give to the poor.
Have mercy.
A little something to quench my thirst, please.
Come on, do a good deed, sir.
Go away, go away.
-And you? Hey, you sleeping? -What's your problem?
-Get out of here. -Don't get angry now.
Spare some change so I can get something to eat.
-Leave me alone. Go away! -What a shame.
-Listen, mister. -Go on.
Be reasonable, sir. Be reasonable.
This heat makes you thirsty. Thank you very much, miss.
Go on, take a walk, will you?
-But I've done nothing wrong! -Get lost. Go on.
-Go on, go on. -This takes the cake.
Go on, hit the road. Go away!
Go on, get out of here.
We're soaked!
-Waiter. -Waiter.
Bloody, bloody, bloody, bloody, bloody Paris!
Bloody, bloody Paris!
Bloody city!
Bloody city.
Oh, it's too hard.
One franc for the lot! One franc!
One franc for the lot! One franc! One franc, ladies!
Can you tell me if Miss Laurent is here?
She's not in.
-Do you know when she'll be back? -No, not at all.
Okay, thank you.
Excuse me.
-Is Mr Lacroix in? -No, sir.
-Is he in the country? -Yes, sir.
Madam, my things are...
No! He won't be back till Tuesday.
-You can see him then. -But those are my things. But I...
Bloody hell!
God damn it, look at this piece of shit!
Half a pint, right?
Madam, have you seen Willy lately?
Willy's on holiday. He left yesterday with a whole gang.
Always this bloody,
bloody, bloody stone.
Come on, hurry up!
-Is it serious? -I think he's dead.
Come on, Bobby. Come.
-Damn dirty dog! -Come on, let's go. Come.
Go on. Down!
That dirty dog would eat my sandwich!
Dogs are kings of the street.
I'll give you dogs! His Highness of dogs!
A sandwich for that price.
What the hell's he doing here?
Hey! Hey, old man.
You're not Gugu.
My man, you don't look so lively.
Careful.
You don't look so sturdy, either, eh?
Got some grub?
Thanks.
August 22
Hi, Jean.
-Oh, H�l�ne! -Hello.
-Back already? -I haven't left yet.
-Must be the pool then. -That's it.
-You're still here? -Hey, Philippe!
-Hello, Fran�ois. -Hello. How are you?
Very well. And yourself?
You know Philippe Chassel. Dominique Laurent.
-Hello, sir. -The pleasure is mine, miss.
-My compliments, you keep secrets well. -What?
I didn't know. I saw your report. It's very good.
A Scotch, Jean, if you will.
-And our friend Pierre, have you any news? -Do you know the story?
-He didn't get the inheritance after all. -Yes, I heard.
-I met him on the evening of July 1 4. -Really? We're looking for him.
You don't know? He was in very bad shape. Poor Pierre was homeless.
I'm sure you'll say it's not unusual for him.
Really? What did he say?
He said three short words to me, ''One hundred francs.''
That's right! You know Pierre. No need to keep it a secret.
But that night he looked strained in a way that was unlike him.
He wrote me a few days later, asking me to put him up
and give him money for a trip. He was homeless, apparently.
It annoyed me. I didn't respond. I hope he's not dead because of me.
Don't exaggerate!
He wrote me utter nonsense. Said he felt capable of theft and murder!
I think Pierre is just as ready to quit swindling his friends
as he is to get a job.
You're cold-hearted. By the way, do you have his address?
Yes, H�tel de Seine. Jean, remove the ice.
-No way to get a forwarding address? -As if he'd have left it to me!
In any case, he's not here. I reported him to the police,
and they did a thorough search because my brother is a cop.
Okay. Good-bye, madam.
Let's go to Quai des Grands Augustins.
Tell Mr Pierre that it's mean to not send me news.
He left me all his things.
A box. A trunk full of books.
I'll be putting it all in the basement one of these days.
I'd really like to know where he is. I just got back, so I haven't had time to...
-You'll find him. -Did he get any mail?
Yes, only three days ago.
Here. I can trust you with it since I know you.
Maybe it's important news.
Carnac. �sterreich.
-That's the notary public! -Yes.
-Thank you very much, sir. Good-bye. -Thank you very much.
-Good-bye, sir. Thanks. -Good day.
Man disappears, stands to inherit millions.
His aunt disinherited him, but the death of his cousin
makes him twice as wealthy. Did he commit suicide?
Thinking he was ruined, he disappeared before learning he was a millionaire.
Mr Fischer, a Viennese notary, and the who's who of Paris wonder despairingly
what has happened to Pierre Wesselrin, a music composer
well-known in certain artistic circles of Saint-Germain-des-Pr�s.
Wesselrin disappeared after the death of his aunt who'd cut him out (so he thought)
of an inheritance he badly needed to restore his precarious financial situation,
but his inheritance is now doubled
after his cousin Christian Wesselrin's fatal car crash.
Baron, move it, will you?
Hang on, I'm drinking.
She had a skirt that was tattered and bare
She hung out with guys who'd give you a scare
But when she passed by you with her tender dark eyes
Look at this! Look at this!
He's built like Hercules, rippling with muscles.
He could erect cathedrals,
but he's as sluggish as a snail.
Hey, turtle.
''A turtle gay Sang the summer away
''And found himself poor By the winter's first roar''
Hey! Excuse me, pal.
Got a little smoke for me?
Hang on! Don't be mistaken.
I know your type. I'm buying.
Thank you, sir. You are very kind.
Oh, Gauloises! My favourite.
Do you happen to have a light, by chance?
Nice weather we're having.
This is a classy lighter!
-Thank you. -Where's my money?
Fine, okay, okay. I'll pay.
-What's owed is owed. -Thanks.
Wretch! Rascal! Tightwad!
Scrooge! Niggard!
Baron, pardon me.
''A turtle gay Sang the summer away
''And found himself poor By the winter's first roar''
-Shall we take this one? -Sure.
-No, this one. -Too bad. But this one's good, too.
Oh, these doors.
-Wait, I'll help you with the other. -No, I got it.
I swear, it's awful.
Amazing, with its double overhead camshaft.
-With its what? -With its double overhead camshaft.
Hey, baby, wanna take a ride with two handsome guys?
Look at the bums.
There's still room for one more. No?
-I can't stand eccentrics. -There's a corner seat.
I certainly wasn't expecting that.
Any spare change, darling? No? Too bad.
I'm sick of carting your fat ass around!
A hundred kilos of muscle, and he's lazy as a sloth.
-Come on, get up! Get up! -Shut up! Shut up!
Shut up! Look at this fool, ladies and gentlemen.
-Shut up! -Lout!
Hello, society! Hello, ladies and gentlemen.
I have the honour of presenting to you Baron Champeix de Castagnac.
He was once the richest man in the world. Take a bow, Baron.
Pity him, ladies and gentlemen.
He had sprawling estates, superb castles in Guatemala,
and was rolling in dollars and women in the thousands, tens of thousands!
They were crazy about him, lusting for his body, his manly figure.
Make them drool, Baron. Make them drool.
Look at this. Impressive, isn't it?
Under the coat, too! Touch him, little lady. He won't bite!
You'll have to eat lots of soup to get this big, kid.
Go on, take a rest, Baron. You're tired.
Ladies and gentlemen, this millionaire before you
lost everything.
Monte Carlo...
And now, what's he got left? He's ruined.
Let's give him a hand, ladies and gentlemen. Give him a hand.
Ladies and gentlemen, this man you see here
-was an elite in the army. -Shut up.
He was commander... No, not commander, colonel!
He was even injured in a skirmish.
-Shut up. -Yes.
He was hurt in the leg, in the limb, right?
He has muscles, yes, but his bones were crushed, obliterated!
-Shut up! -Show them, Baron. Let society see.
Look, ladies and gentlemen. You'll see how pitiful it is, how horrible.
Go on, Baron.
Beautiful, isn't it? Yes, yes, yes.
Be generous, ladies and gentlemen.
Be generous. Don't forget the artists, please.
We accept coins, cigarette butts, preferably unlit.
More? Thank you, gentlemen. Thank you.
Come on, ladies and gentlemen on this side.
Want to make an artist happy? Nobody has anything to give?
Come on, Baron. We're going.
Thank you, society! Thank you for your generosity!
-You're too heavy, Baron. -Shut up.
Hurry up, would you? You'll get hit by a car.
-Hey, where are you going? -Saint-Germain-des-Pr�s.
It's full of tourists. Come on!
-I'm not going. They annoy me. -Come on. Don't be stupid.
They're all buggers in Saint-Germain-des-Pr�s.
You're scared of seeing your pals.
No way! I'll do them all in!
Excuse me.
Shall we sit here?
Ladies and gentlemen, the Opera House of South Berlin
is honoured to present an excerpt from the 2nd Act, ''The Rhine Maiden,''
with the famous bass, Isidore Isidorovitch,
and the equally famous diva Jeanne Cristal.
Give her a hand! She thanks you, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you.
A plot summary.
The Rhine maiden's baby girl was murdered,
and she comes to beg vengeance of the Sire, her father.
Here we go!
You can give money, ladies and gentlemen. It's authorised.
It's allowed. I see that everything was arranged. I'll continue.
A frog in the throat, madam. A frog. It happens to us all.
Excuse me.
-More. -Come on. That's enough.
-What's going on? -Get the bloody hell out of here.
This has gone on long enough. Show's over.
Aren't you ashamed of shoving a poor woman
who has just seen her child die?
Sir, may I? We're journalists.
-We'd like to take your picture. -We've already told you no!
Oh, let him. Please, sir, go ahead.
My left side is my best. Go ahead.
Oh, dear.
And you, sir? Want your picture taken?
Oh, no, the Baron is grumpy.
But you can keep taking pictures of my profile because...
Oh, no, old man. That's not gonna work.
What, we do all the work, then you come along to rake in the dough?
-Go on, hit the road! -Leave the man, would you? Take this.
May I?
-But you could go hunting. -I don't like hunting.
No, I prefer walking.
Telephone for Mr Santeuil.
-Wait. -Mr Santeuil.
-It's for you. -It's the magazine again.
-Listen, that bum playing over there... -What?
-...it's Pierre! -Pierre?
I'll be right there.
What's that bum playing? Bart�k?
-No, he's just out of tune. -It's modern at any rate.
All these people, and everything!
Hey, Baron! What's up? Where are you going?
What... Wait up!
-Listen to me! -Bugger off, I tell you!
-But, Baron... -Baron! Baron!
I'm no baron. I'm nothing at all. Nothing!
Bugger off and let me die alone.
Are you losing it or what?
Bugger off!
Can't a guy be alone? Can't all these people go away?
These people...
And the stone, the bloody stone and these bloody people surrounding you.
Can't a guy be alone?
-Can't a guy be alone? -Come on.
Baron, get up. Don't be an idiot.
Bloody stone. Bloody, bloody everything.
The stone, the people and...
Bloody, bloody.
-We've met before, I believe. -No.
-But we have. Remember, in Deauville. -No!
Jean-Fran�ois, hurry!
Pierre!
-Pierre, listen to me! -Shut up.
Pierre, it's me.
Yes, Jean-Fran�ois, leave me alone, would you? Leave me alone.
Listen to me, Pierre. Christian is dead. You inherit everything.
-He's dead? I inherit everything? -Yes.
Christian?
He's dead? I inherit everything?
Yes!
I inherit everything?
-I inherit everything? -Yes!
He's dead?
I inherit everything! He's dead!
All of you, come to my place! Everyone!
-Come here. -Come with me to my place, everyone!
Come with me!
Don't let them fool you, old man!
-They might be cops in disguise! -Hey!
-Let him go! -I'll see you tomorrow.
What, tomorrow? What about tomorrow?
-There's room for one more. -You must be joking!
Let me go, you boors!
He says he'll be back tomorrow. He's got your address.
The Baron is a man of his word!
He keeps his word!
He's a millionaire!
Band of wretches!
Damn it!