Very early in my life it was too late.
At 18, it was already too late.
At 18, I aged.
This aging was brutal.
This aging, I saw it spread over my features...
one by one.
Instead of being frightened by it...
I saw this aging of my face...
with the same sort of interest...
I might have taken, for example...
in the reading of a book.
That new face, I kept it.
It's kept the same contours...
but its matter is destroyed.
I have a destroyed face.
Let me tell you again.
I'm 15 1/2.
It's the crossing of a ferry on the Mekong.
Look at me.
I'm 15 1/2.
It's the crossing of the river.
When I go back to Saigon...
it's as though I'm on a journey...
especially when I take the bus.
That day, it's the end of the school holidays.
I don't remember which one.
I went to spend it in Sa-Dec with my two brothers...
in my mother's tight house...
behind the bush school...
in the horror of the Sa-Dec house.
The big pieces are mine.
Why yours?
Because that's the way it is.
I wish you'd die.
Paul?
Paulo?
Paul, come to bed.
You mustn't be afraid anymore.
Not of Pierre, not of anything.
Never again, you know.
Never again.
He came back?
I see him on the balcony...
sleeping in the night outside...
doesn't want to go to his room.
He's too scared of Pierre.
Me, it's when he's outside that I'm afraid.
I'm afraid he'll leave like that.
He'll get lost.
It can happen with that kind of child.
That's not true.
You're not afraid for Paul.
You're only afraid for Pierre.
Why is it that you love him so much...
and not us... never?
I love all three of my children the same.
That's not true. It's not true!
Answer! Why is it that you love him so much...
and not us?
I don't know why.
Yesterday...
I wrote to Saigon...
to ask for Pierre's repatriation.
What?
I'm sending him back to France.
You're happy?
He stole at the opium den again.
I can't pay any longer.
It's over.
It's not possible anymore.
Mom, hurry up, or I'll miss the bus.
Bye, Paulo.
Take care.
Yes, Mom.
When are you coming back?
For Mardi Gras. I already told you.
Oh. I forgot.
So that day...
I'm going back to Saigon.
I'm wearing my cabaret shoes and my man's hat.
No woman, no young girl wears a man's fedora...
in that colony in those days.
No native woman, either.
That hat, I never leave it.
I have that, this hat.
That all by itself makes me whole.
I'm never without it.
So it's the crossing...
of one of the branches of the Mekong...
on the ferry that's between Vinh Long and Sa-Dec...
in the great plains of mud and rice...
of southern Indochina...
the plain of the birds.
Excuse me, mademoiselle. Do you smoke?
No, thank you.
I'm sorry.
It's so surprising...
a young white girl on a native bus.
I like your hat. It's original...
a man's hat on a young girl.
And you're pretty.
You can do anything you like.
You're who?
- I live in Vinh Long. - Where in Vinh Long?
On the river just outside. The big house with the terraces.
The blue stone one?
Yes.
It's a Chinese house.
I am Chinese.
Chinese.
He's from that financial minority...
that owns all the popular housing of the colony.
He's back from Paris...
where he undertook some business studies.
He's the one...
who was crossing the Mekong that day...
towards Saigon.
If you want, I can drive you to Saigon.
Do you know her?
She's the administrator's wife...
Mrs. Stretter, Anne-Marie.
Do you want one?
Yes, thank you.
Is it true, that story about the young man...
who killed himself for her?
Don't know.
Yes, it's true.
On the marketplace at Louang Prabang...
the day she left.
He was her lover.
The smoke doesn't bother you?
I mean, in here?
No, not at all.
You're at Saigon High School?
Yes, but I sleep elsewhere...
at the Lyautey Boardinghouse.
Do you like studying?
Yes. I find it interesting.
What grade are you in?
11th.
And you're...
uh... 17.
And you?
32...
and jobless.
And Chinese, what's more.
What's more... yes.
You look so beautiful when you say that.
Since my mother's death, my father has lived on his cot.
He never leaves his opium pipe...
and he nearly doesn't eat anymore.
I never guessed the depth of their fondness.
There it's been 10 years...
that's he's taken care of his business like that...
from his bed.
He stares at the river, you see.
I see.
Yes, I miss Paris...
the parties,
the evenings in Montparnasse...
the coupole.
Do you know the coupole?
I went to France once.
It was in the north, near the Belgian border.
I only know here... the Mekong, Saigon.
You like Saigon?
Yes, I like Saigon.
I like Saigon, too. Cholon above all.
Cholon, it's like China.
That's it. It's here.
Good-bye.
You got here earlier than usual.
I met someone on the ferry. He drove me here.
A Chinaman.
Helene is the only other white girl...
in the boardinghouse.
Helene, she is immodest.
She doesn't realize.
She walks naked in the dormitory.
She doesn't know that she's very beautiful.
She's innocent...
lingering on in youth.
Hey, I forgot to tell you something.
There's a girl...
the assistant mistresses found her...
she was a prostitute every evening...
behind the wall.
Nobody noticed anything.
- Who? - Alice.
Alice? Who's she going with like that?
Anybody, people walking by.
It's always appealed to me.
What?
To go with men you don't know.
You don't even see them. Nothing.
You'll never know their face.
Do you think we're all like that?
Yes. The assistant mistresses, too.
Every woman.
Actually, I'd rather be a prostitute...
than take care of lepers.
What are you talking about again?
That's what everybody says here.
They say they want us to study...
but it's not true.
They take us into boarding...
so they can send us to the lazarets...
with the lepers, the plague-stricken...
the cholera-ridden.
I'd rather be a prostitute.
They'd be lucky, those men.
I'm the matador. You are the bull.
Eyes on one level. Shoulders straight.
1...
2...
3... 4...
5... 6.
Look over my left shoulder...
back out, arms locked, bottom in.
And 1 and 2 and 3 and 4...
and 5 and 6 and 7 and 8.
And 1 and 2 and 3 and 4.
5, 6, 7, 8.
It happened very quickly that day, a holiday...
a Thursday.
He came that Thursday afternoon...
to the boardinghouse.
He came to wait for her with the big black car.
It's early in the afternoon...
the time of the siesta.
It's in Cholon...
in the alleyways of Cholon...
in the smell of soup, roast meat...
jasmine, dust, charcoal fire...
in the smell of the Chinese town.
Please.
I... I didn't choose the furniture.
It's... it's my father, bought me this.
Young, rich Chinese have mistresses...
and they call this the bachelor's room.
Do you have many mistresses?
Do you like the idea of me having mistresses?
Yes, I do.
So you followed me here...
as you would have followed anyone.
I wouldn't know.
I've never followed anyone into a room yet.
I'm... l'm afraid...
I'm afraid of loving you.
Listen, we'll leave. We'll come back some other time.
Well, I'd rather you didn't love me.
I want you to do as you usually do with other women.
Is that what you want?
Yes.
I know you'll never love me.
I...
I don't know.
I don't want you to talk.
Just do as usual.
He tore the dress off.
He tore the little white underpants off...
and he carried her like that...
naked, to the bed.
Once on the bed...
fear overcomes him.
I can't.
He says it's not true...
that she's too little...
that he can't do such a thing.
So...
So she's the one who does it.
Her eyes closed...
she undresses him...
button by button...
sleeve by sleeve.
The skin.
The skin is of a sumptuous softness.
The body is hairless...
without any virility at all...
other than that of the sex.
She doesn't look him in the face.
She touches him.
She touches the softness of the sex...
of the skin.
She caresses the golden hue...
the unknown novelty.
I still see the place of distress...
shipwrecked...
the distempered walls...
the slatted shutters giving up to the furnace.
The soiling of the blood.
I remember well.
The room is dark.
It's surrounded by...
the never-ending clamor of the town...
carried away by the town...
by the flow of the town.
My body was in that public noise...
this passing by from the outside...
exposed.
The sea, I thought...
the immensity.
What are you thinking about?
They're dead.
Did it hurt you?
No.
Are you sad?
Yes, I guess.
A little.
I don't know.
It's because we've made love during the daytime...
in the dead of the heat.
No.
It's me.
I'm always a little sad.
I'm like my mother.
When I told her I'd be a writer...
she shrugged.
She said it's not work...
it's a childish idea.
She wants me to do maths, my mother does...
to earn money.
What do you want to write?
Books.
Novels...
about my elder brother...
to kill him...
to see him in pain...
to make him die.
About my younger brother to save him.
And about that...
about my mother's sadness.
About the lack of money, about shame.
I know the bad luck with your mother...
and the tragedies she's lived.
How do you know?
Through the servants.
Through my driver.
You know everything through the servants.
I know about your elder brother, too.
I met him in the opium dens along the riverside.
He smokes too much.
Much too much.
The whites don't know how to smoke.
He's an animal.
He scares me.
He steals from my mother to go smoke.
He steals from the servants.
My mother never says anything.
He's her favorite.
Since my father died, there's no money in the house.
My mother lost everything here.
She made all the wrong choices.
So how do you manage?
We do the best we can.
We're shameless.
We do the best we can.
Did you come here because I've got money?
I don't know.
I came because I liked you.
Would you like me if I were poor?
I like you the way you are...
with your money.
I want to...
take you away.
I'd like to take you away...
leave with you.
I can't leave without my mother yet.
I'm too little.
I can't leave my mother nor my little brother.
Not yet.
I had asked him to do it again and again.
To do it to me.
He had done it.
He had done it in the unctuousness of blood.
I think he's used to it.
This is what he does in life...
Love. Nothing else.
I'm very lucky.
Obviously, it's as if it were a profession he'd have.
He's on me...
he engulfs himself again.
We stay like that, nailed...
moaning in the clamor of the town.
You see...
you'll remember this afternoon all your life...
even if you've forgotten my face...
my name.
Do you think I'll remember the room?
Take a good look at it.
It's like anywhere.
That's it.
It's like always.
I wonder how I found the strength...
to go against the forbidden with this calm...
this determination...
how I succeeded in going all the way...
to the end of the idea.
How could I have taken so much pleasure...
for me alone with this unknown man?
My mother...
she'll kill me if she finds out the truth.
My brother, he'd kill you.
Imagine...
with a Chinaman.
Since I've been little...
she tells me that here in the colonies...
a girl that isn't a virgin anymore...
can no longer find a husband.
Do you think that's true?
Yes. Your mother's right.
It's no longer possible after that...
that dishonor.
For instance...
if I wanted to marry you...
well, it would not be allowed.
We can't tolerate the idea of that.
I'm Chinese.
I'm sorry.
Now that you've done that with me...
marriage between us would be impossible.
Well, then, it's for the best, then.
Chinese... I don't like Chinese very much.
Hey.
Can I come into your bed?
No, not now.
I'll tell you about it tomorrow.
What's wrong? What's the matter?
What's she doing in that new car there?
Hello.
Wait. Wait.
Don't be bashful. It's a wonderful report.
She's the sole heiress, and I'm the sole heir.
The date has been set for years.
That's another reason I came back from France.
- You love her? - No.
I don't know her.
For us...
marriages are arranged by the families.
We know that a future together is unthinkable...
so we speak of the future...
in a casual manner...
without any involvement, detached.
And the two families got together...
to hide their wealth away.
It's so much the customs of ancient...
or modern China.
We don't think we could do anything any other way.
He's never had a job.
He says that if he was poor...
it would be terrible.
He'd be much too lazy to work.
It's opium that takes away the strength.
No.
It's wealth that takes his strength away.
He does nothing.
Nothing.
Only love.
But it's funny...
because that's the way I desire him.
Do you still love me?
We are lovers.
Every day we go back to the bachelor's room.
We can't stop loving.
This takes place...
in the sleazy district of Cholon every evening.
Every evening...
the little one comes to receive the pleasure...
that makes one scream from this dark man...
this man from Cholon...
from China.
Hi, Mom.
Hi, Paul.
Now and then I go back to the house in Sa-Dec...
to the horror of the house in Sa-Dec.
It's an unbearable place.
It's close to death...
a place of violence...
of pain, of despair, of dishonor.
I forbid you to slam doors!
Do you hear me?
Who drove you back from Saigon?
I told you. A friend. He lives in Vinh Long.
He offered to drop me off on his way through.
He's a friend! That's all.
Who in Vinh Long?
You wouldn't know him.
He just got back from Paris.
A friend. A rich friend.
Not everybody's lucky enough to be poor.
And this...
what's this?
A piece of blue paper.
It's a telegram from the boardinghouse.
Where did you sleep Tuesday and Wednesday?
Where did I sleep Tuesday and Wednesday?
Not at the boardinghouse.
The fans were out of order.
I slept with my friend from Vinh Long.
Is that what you want me to say?
Hit her, Mom.
Don't let her get away with it.
But it's in this family's dryness...
in its incredible harshness...
that I am the most deeply assured of myself...
in the deepest of my essential certainties.
Our common history of ruin and shame...
of love and hate, is in my flesh.
Your daughter looks like a whore.
Hey, dummy, stop that shooting!
I am still in this family.
This is, barring all other places...
where I live.
That was your dress, Mom.
The shoes, you bought them for me.
I've been wearing them for months.
They were on sale, remember? Final reductions.
You do it on purpose.
See what a state I'm in because of you?
It's as though it makes you happy.
If you don't trust me anymore...
just take me out of the boardinghouse.
Besides, I'm not the one who asked to be all alone...
all year long in Saigon.
The mother can be very, very happy sometimes...
the time to forget.
That of washing the house...
may suffice for my mother's happiness.
She plays the piano, she cleans, she laughs...
and everyone thinks...
that one can be happy in this gutted house...
that suddenly becomes a swamp...
a field alongside a river...
a ford, a beach.
My respects, madame.
My mother...
my brother Pierre...
and my brother Paul.
On Saturday night they are busy.
Will you be having a cocktail, sir?
Yes. Three Martel-Perriers and a bottle of rice wine.
We left China when Sun Yat-sen decreed the republic...
and my father just sold all his lands...
to the Japanese...
who had already taken over Manchuria...
all the houses, jewels, and everything...
to go down towards the south.
And my mother...
she'd just lie in the road...
and she can't go on anymore.
The mother and the brothers mustn't know a thing.
It is set by principle...
that he's at my feet...
that I'm with him for the money...
that I can't love him.
This because he's Chinese, because he's not white.
My brothers devour and don't speak a word to him.
I don't speak a word to him, either.
In my family's presence, he ceases to be my lover.
He doesn't cease to exist...
but he's nothing to me anymore.
He becomes a burned-out place...
an unacceptable scandal...
a reason to be ashamed of, that has to be hidden.
So, what are we waiting for?
I'd like to have a drink at La Cascade.
Your bill, sir.
We'd like to go to La Cascade...
to drink and dance.
What makes you laugh...
that I'm dancing with your sister?
I'm sorry.
You're so badly paired.
Don't pay attention, sir.
He's drunk, that's all.
What?
Can't I laugh or what?
Do you want to fight?
Take care, little buddy.
It'd take two of you to do the job.
Oh, no.
A lot more than that.
Four of me, you mean.
You have no idea how weak I am.
We should leave.
Forgive him, sir.
Forgive us.
I've not brought my children up well.
I'm paying for it.
I'm the one who's punished the most.
How much is what we did worth?
In a brothel, how much does it cost...
to do what you just did to me?
How much do you need?
My mother needs 500 piasters.
I've got your money.
Here.
Where's her office?
It's over there.
You see, we have to let her...
go free in the evening...
not tell her what time to be in.
We mustn't force her...
to go on trips with the boarders, either.
She's always been a free child. Otherwise, she'd run away.
Even I can't do a thing about that.
She's always worked very well in school...
even being so free.
The headmistress accepted because I'm white...
and that for the boardinghouse's reputation...
amongst all the half-castes there must be a few whites.
She let me live in the boardinghouse...
as if it were a hotel.
Other than my French teacher...
nobody speaks to me at school.
It's because of you.
That's your imagination.
No.
There have been some complaints from families.
They say I'm a slut...
and goes to the shady part of town...
to have her body fondled by a Chinaman.
It's nothing.
That's true. It's nothing.
Ooh! It touched her. It's nasty.
Ooh! She sleeps with a Chinaman.
One day you're going to go back to France.
I can't take that.
When are you going back to France?
At the end of the school year...
but it's not sure.
My mother has a lot of difficulty in leaving here.
The stone belonged to my mother.
Take it.
And I said to him that it's too new...
it's too strong...
and I said to him that...
it is horrid to take you away from my body.
l... I said to him that he... my father...
he... he should know what it is...
a love like this... so strong...
that it never happens again in a lifetime...
never.
He wants this marriage with...
this young girl I've never seen.
He shows no mercy for me.
He shows none for anyone.
And you?
Do you want this marriage?
The question is not of wanting...
or not wanting.
I'm nothing without my father's wealth.
He told me...
"I'd rather see you dead...
than know you were with that white girl."
But he's right.
He's right because anyhow I'll leave...
and I have no love for you.
You see.
It's here.
My mother, when I was little...
wanted to erect a dam...
to protect her good-growing land.
She wanted to become rich for us.
She put all the savings...
left after my father's death into it.
People lied to her.
The land registrar agents sold her flood lands...
just to earn their premiums.
Saltwater covered everything.
She lost everything here... everything.
It took her years...
to believe that it was possible...
for people to steal all her savings...
and then never acknowledge her again...
to throw her out.
She would scream. She had fits.
People started to say that she was crazy...
to not believe what she said...
about her money anymore...
to say that she was lying.
We never saw another white person for years.
The whites were ashamed of us.
She had to give everything up.
The upper rice paddy...
she gave it to the servants...
along with the bungalow and all the furniture.
We used to sit here...
with my mother and my little brother...
and we'd watch the sky of Siam...
over there behind the mountains.
You feel cold?
A little.
That evening I know it.
I know only that...
later I will write my mother's life...
how she was killed by the land registrar agents...
robbed by the government officials.
To write...
that's what I see beyond the moment...
in that great desert...
under the features of which...
I see the extent of my life.
Is she beautiful?
She's rich.
The family chose her also because of that.
She's covered with gold...
jade...
and diamonds.
Did you ever sleep with a white girl before me?
In Paris, of course.
Here, no.
Why?
Here...
other than French prostitutes...
it's impossible to have white women.
Totally impossible.
I want you to say it to me once.
You came here so that I'd give you money.
I came here so that you'd give me money.
Repeat after me.
I was thinking about money...
and only about money...
from the moment I saw you on the ferry.
I was thinking about money...
and only about money...
since the moment I saw you on the ferry.
You're a whore.
I don't find that disgusting.
On the contrary...
You know...
before you...
I knew nothing about suffering.
I would love to...
I would love to take you...
but I'm without strength.
I'm without any strength at all.
I'm dead.
I have no desire for you.
My body no longer wants the one who doesn't love.
Do you know what that's worth?
You want to have us believe...
he just gave it to you for your pretty face?
Why did he give you such a diamond?
Why? Because he's rich.
Your daughter's whoring.
Take it! Sell it!
See if I care about that ring!
You slept with him. I'm sure of it.
Just take a look at her.
She's a disgrace.
What?
You've got to do something, Mum.
What are you saying? Me with a Chinaman?
Nothing happened... nothing...
not even a kiss.
It smells of Chinese.
You slept with him.
Say it.
Say it!
You're going to say it, you bitch!
You filthy bitch!
You slept with a Chink. Did you like it? Huh?
Pierre, stop!
Stop it, I say! Stop it! You're going to kill her!
Stop it! Stop it, for god's sake!
You're killing her, Pierre!
Stop it!
I thought my child wouldn't come anymore.
I took a rickshaw.
Did you smoke a lot?
That's all I do.
I have no desire left.
I have no love left.
It's wonderful.
It's as though we'd never met...
or as though you left months ago.
When are you getting married?
Next Friday...
and leaving...
on the Alexandre Dumas the 12th.
Look at me.
I'm going to die of love for you.
After your marriage...
we'll meet here one time...
just once.
You remember?
You promised me.
You're also selling the rosewood table?
Yes.
I'm leaving everything.
It's all finished here.
The only thing I'll miss are the metal beds.
In France, the beds are too soft.
What's that hat?
Mom, I've been wearing it for months.
- Did I buy that for you? - Who else?
Some days we can make you buy anything we want.
I forgot.
You know...
I wasn't like you.
I didn't study as easily as you do...
and I...
I was very serious...
for so long... too long.
That's how I lost the feeling...
of my own pleasure.
He did a really good thing, truly.
Who did a good thing?
Your friend...
your Chinese friend.
He paid off your brother's debts...
at the opium den.
He also paid for the trip.
He was wonderful...
very discreet, too.
I had underestimated him.
I'm sorry about that.
Do you only see him for the money?
Yes.
It was when the boat uttered its first farewell...
and the gangway had been hauled up...
and the tugs had started to tow it...
to draw it away from the land...
that she had wept.
She'd done it without showing her tears...
without showing her mother or her little brother...
that she was sad...
without showing anything...
as was the custom between them.
He was there.
That was him in the back...
that scarcely visible shape...
that made no movement, crushed.
She was leaning on the railing...
like the first time on the ferry.
She knew he was watching her.
She was watching him, too.
She couldn't see him anymore, but she still looked...
towards the shape of the black car.
In the end, she didn't see it anymore.
The harbor had faded away...
and then the land.
One night...
during the crossing of the Indian Ocean...
in the main room on the big deck...
there had been a sudden burst...
of a waltz by Chopin.
There wasn't a breath of wind...
and that night...
the music had spread all over the black liner...
like an injunction from heaven...
related to something unknown...
like an order from God...
whose meaning was inscrutable.
She had wept...
because she had thought of that man from Cholon...
her lover...
and suddenly she wasn't sure...
of not having loved him...
with a love she hadn't seen...
because it had lost itself in the story...
like water in the sand...
and that she was rediscovering it now...
in this moment of music flung across the sea.
Years after the war...
after the marriages, the children...
the divorces, the books...
he had come to Paris with his wife.
He had phoned her.
He was intimidated.
His voice trembled...
and with the trembling...
it had found the accent of China again.
He knew she'd begun writing books.
He had also heard about the younger brother's death.
He had been sad for her...
and then he hadn't known what to tell her...
and then he'd told her...
he had told her that it was as before...
that he still loved her...
that he would never stop loving her...
that he would love her until his death.