Begin Part Two ... For Part One, watch --> 'Jean de Florette (1986)'
Voila.
Next time I won't pay this price.
With the competition from Italy I'll be ruined.
The price you give us, barely pays for the fertilizer.
Next year we'll go back to growing chick-peas.
My only regret will be: no more drinking with friends like you.
What's the matter with you, barking like that?
I won't steal your flock.
Allez, scoot over.
Do you mind? Leave my bread alone!
Let's share a little snack, huh?
Hey, what this?
What'll I eat, then?☻
Allez, move.
- Messieurs! - Bonjour!
Bernard, what did you do today?
This morning, I had a long hike the hills.
Look what I found.
Lignite. This massif is full of them.
Very interesting.
I also saw an unattended flock.
Must belong to the hunchback's daughter.
The wild child? Haven't seen her since her father's death.
- You'd think she's hiding from us. - I've seen her. She's lovely.
Takes after her mother. She was a real beauty, too.
He may have been a hunchback but he made a lovely daughter.
Who was this hunchback?
You didn't know him, M. Belloiseau.
You hadn't retired here yet.
He was a city intellectual slumming as a farmer.
He was a nut.
Not as nutty as all that.
By 'nut', I don't mean 'imbecile'.
I mean, impractical.
He thought he could breed thousands of rabbits
by doing multiplications on paper.
Why? Wasn't there water at Romarin?
You found some. Your carnations doing well?
The holidays are more profitable, the best is Christmas,
then Mardi Gras. And Easter, too, is good.
And the dead? Are the dead profitable?
Not bad. Funerals can be quite profitable.
Hm!
Allez, allez, allez!
Allez! Allez, allez, allez!
Get in. Hurry up!
Grazie. (Thanks. ITAL)
Una lettera. (A letter)
My dear little one,
Tonight we're doing 'Aida' at the Bordeaux Opera House.
I have a very small role, but I'm so pleased.
If you were with me, I'd be almost happy.
Your loving mother.
You can't stay here forever.
You should go join your mama.
No hares, no rabbits, no partridges.
I wonder where they're hiding.
Or else, I'm going deaf and blind.
Next time, I'll bring the baker's basset hound.
Oh, I'll get that hare!
Galinette!
Do you know it's five o'clock?
That's some siesta!
I wonder if I got a touch of sunstroke.
No, you're not red.
You must be sleep deprived.
Come outside.
She can't hear a thing, but she guesses all.
What I have to say concerns only the two of us.
Galinette...
You're over 30 years old, and the last of the Soubeyrans.
- I see where you're going... - Let me speak!
If I sound like a broken record, it's your own fault.
I'll keep it up until you understand.
We, Soubeyrans, were the greatest family in the region.
- On Grandpa's birthday... - There were 30 of you.
All Soubeyrans, with pots of gold hidden throughout the house.
People took notice of us.
If it didn't last, it's not my fault. It's destiny.
Not true, destiny does not exist!
Only good-for-nothings blame destiny!
What happened was our elders' fault.
Partly pride, partly not to separate the family money.
So they married among themselves. Cousins with cousins.
Even uncles with nieces.
It's bad for rabbits, and it's no good for people.
And what was the consequence?
Two madwomen and three suicides, that's what!
And now, here we are: two of us.
I don't count anymore.
Now, the Soubeyrans, is you.
So, you're demanding, again that I get married.
Why didn't you take a wife?
It wasn't in my character.
I thought about it, mind you...
but it didn't work out.
I left to be a soldier in Africa, on a whim, like that.
And when I came back...
You know, if she'd borne a child, I'd have married her on the spot.
Only, that didn't happen.
I was like Anglade's lovely cherry tree.
The one that's always in bloom, but never bears fruit.
You want me to marry in your stead.
You must, Galinette.
But why, eh? Why?
Why? You're asking why?!
What about the treasure? You'd let the Soubeyran treasure die?
It's not rat-chewed banknotes.
It's gold!
Gold coins. Jarfuls of gold coins. You know what that means?
And I have them!
That's from economising, privation, hard work.
That's what you wanna throw away?
'Course not. I love gold.
Since you love it, you wouldn't leave it without a master!
Papet, you're dreaming.
You can't restore a family just like that.
It's ten years, I've been telling you!
Yeah, but not as seriously as today.
Besides, I wish you'd let me choose according to my own mind.
You have someone in mind?
Maybe.
Won't you tell me who it is?
Look, Papet, I had the sun beating on my head all day.
I'm feeling kinda dopey.
I will tell you, but be patient.
All right. I like you, Galinette.
I just ask one thing.
When choosing a wife, think of the children.
What do you mean?
Don't swoon over a pretty face.
What we need are large hips,
long legs, nice, big titties.
Choose her like you would a brood mare.
What if she has pretty face, to boot?
Ah, if it's an extra...
I don't mind; on the contrary.
She'd be the Soubeyran belle.
It'd be a pleasure to look at her.
Allez!
Noe! C'mere, Noe! Come!
Always the same few guys doing this work, yet everyone uses the water.
This is your first time!
Cleaning the basin every 6 months won't kill you.
With all this wind blown red sand and leaves,
if you want clean water, you gotta do this.
Vegetables, too, need clean water.
It doesn't clump.
It has the color of clay, but it's not clay.
No...
it's bauxite sludge.
A mineral containing iron and aluminum.
I wonder where it comes from.
From the spring, during heavy storms, and for 7 or 8 hours after.
But it never reaches the fountain, it deposits here.
When it rains all night, the next morning,
my spring turns red. Looks like rust on the stones.
In fact it is rust: iron oxide.
- Then, it can't hurt. - On the contrary, it's good.
Where's your spring relative to this catchment basin?
How do you mean, 'relative'?
Is it higher or lower?
That's hard to say.
I figure the Romarins valley is higher.
Then the village water comes from there, since it crosses the same mineral deposit.
- It's ten o'clock. - Oh, dang...
- I promised them water by noon! - So? It's nowhere near noon!
The water takes an hour to reach the village. C'mon, move it!
Messieurs, your company is very agreeable,
but duty calls me to Town Hall.
Mustn't keep the mayor waiting, prof*.
Hey, hey! Someone's throwing stones!
I thought I saw a little flash of lightning!
Ayi ayi-ayi, lightning at 10:AM?! You're hitting the sauce early!
I swear, on my parents' grave, I only had coffee.
It's my knife.
I lost it in the hills a few days ago.
- Around here? - No...
first time I've been to this valley.
That's strange.
Must be the shepherdess who returned it to you.
- Where is she? - What shepherdess?
- You mean Manon? - Manon of the hunchback. Who else?
- You think she's hiding up there? - She's ran off, by now!
Too bad. I'd like to thank her.
Some other time.
That's nice, give her a little kiss.
Odd, but after all the talk about her,
without knowing her, I dreamt about her.
I even kissed her.
And she let you?
In my dreams, women rarely resist me.
What, not eating?
I'm not hungry.
Galinette, you've lost your healthy glow, recently.
Well, I lost my appetite.
Must be on account of that poison.
What poison?
The one I spray on the carnations
to protect them from red spiders.
- I'll do it, if you want. - No.
It can only be done at night.
This product shuns thelight of day.
Light wrecks it.
Kills all its nastiness.
You work at night, but you don't sleep in the day.
I came to see you several days. You're never home.
What do you do?
I hunt.
I walk in the hills.
I breathe the fresh air.
To clean out my lungs.
- That poison irritates them. - That's true.
It's good for carnations, but not for you.
So, you need to eat and sleep.
Wanna see a doctor?
No, Papet. I'll be all right.
See? I'm eating.
She's going to Aubagne to sell my thrushes.
He's gone gaga.
Aargh!
- Who is it? - It's me!
YOU're the one who's gaga.
- Who's the WOMAN? - What woman?
The woman you visit in Aubagne.
I've been observing you for some days.
I see you trap birds, what do you do with them?
I see you prancing and talking to yourself. Have you gone gaga?
Are you in love?
Oh, that' a GOOD sickness!
So, tell me who she is.
Don't wanna tell me?
Then she must not be a very nice girl...
or a married woman.
Yes, yes! She's married!
She's married!
- Open up, you imbecile! - No, I won't!
- We can talk through the door. - Why?
Because if I can't see you, I might to tell you something.
You're as big a dope as your poor father.
So, what do you wanna tell me?
I don't wanna tell you anything. You're forcing me.
Go ahead, ask me some questions.
Well, tell me who she is.
No, I won't tell you.
Is she a city girl?
Quite the contrary.
So much the better.
Do I know her?
No, so to speak.
- What do you mean, so to speak? - Because, you're too cunning.
In 3 or 4 questions, you'll guess. So, I'm not saying!
- Then, I do know her. - See? I don't wanna tell you.
And you grill me like a gendarme. No, I won't tell you!
- Why not? - Because!
It's my secret.
My first love secret, and I'm keeping it.
Fine, keep it. I'm leaving. Good-bye.
No, Papet, stay!
I want to talk about her.
I'm not interested, if I don't know who she is.
Yes, but I know, and I'd like to talk.
Papet, did you leave?
No, I'm rolling a cigarette.
So, you wanna marry this woman?
Oh, yes, I'd love that, but she wouldn't.
- Why? - She's pretty and I'm ugly.
Does she have money?
Not much.
- Is she in good health? - Oh, yes, Papet!
She's as strong as a horse, with lovely little muscles.
I've seen her work. She could hoe my carnations better than me.
Besides that, she's educated.
How do you know?
She's always reading books. Sometimes an hour at a stretch.
Oh, that's no good.
A poor girl who reads books. I don't like it much.
Besides, a wife who's too pretty isn't always wise choice.
She seem honest, to you?
Oh, yeah, Papet! She's the Holy Virgin of the Woods.
If she'd say 'I do', it'd be wonderful. I'd be as happy as a king.
But she won't.
No poor girl has ever refused a Soubeyran.
She'd have to be completely crazy.
Papet, if she said yes, would you be agreeable?
I can't say yes without knowing who!
Come on, you imbecile, open the door and tell me!
No! I won't open the door.
I need to reflect.
- Papet? - Oh.
I think I may tell you. but you must, swear on the heads of all the Soubeyrans
that once you know her name, you'll go without saying another word.
- As you wish. - No, no, swear!
Swear by all the Soubeyrans.
I swear on the heads of all the Soubeyrans.
Good. Now, I just need to work up the nerve.
I'm not opening the door, eh? I'm just removing the key.
Papet...
put your ear to the keyhole.
It's Manon, the hunchback's daughter.
Allez!
Allez-allez-allez-allez!
Allez! Allez!
Perhaps in 20 years, she'll find you too old.
- She'll have admirers. - You don't know. A girl like her?!
"A girl like her" is like all the other girls.
But, what does it matter?
In 20 years the little Soubeyrans will be done.
And beautifully done, too! Because she's a beauty,
And I consent.
- You've seen her? - Oh yeah, I've seen her.
What do you think?
A beauty, I told you.
She seems older than her age.
She must be, at least, 18.
- Know who she looks like? - Nobody!
Oh, yes.
Like someone you never knew.
The spitting image of her grandmother.
You knew her grandmother?
Florette Camoins...
the beauty!
Mademoiselle, pleased to meet you.
I want to thank you for returning my knife.
How did you know it was mine?
I saw you eating, under the tree, the other day.
I'm the new school instructor.
I'm gathering a collection of minerals from these hills,
to teach my pupils the composition of their native land.
I thought you were prospecting for gold.
This is Jurassic cretaceous, from the second Quaternary epoch.
You're quite knowledgeable for a shepherdess.
Just repeating my father's words.
It wouldd please me, no end, if you accepted this.
I've got one.
- Anyway, it's too fancy for me. - Not at all.
A shepherd's knife isn't too fancy for a shepherdess.
It has four blades, an awl and a nail file.
And a pair of scissors.
I know, because I used them.
It's the first one I snared. Only because it's young.
The big ones drag off the whole snare.
That hare is MY offering to you.
Here...
My class starts at 1:30. I'm off.
I'll leave this on a rock.
Someone would certainly be pleased to find it.
She wants nothing to do with your knife.
Monsieur!
I'll take the knife if you take the hare. - All right.
Merci.
Tell me, Papet...
Hm.
How does a guy talk to girls?
I don't know any words of love.
So, you've finally decided?
Yes, gotta start as soon as possible.
Because, from time to time, she goes to Aubagne.
And a beauty like her, will be snapped up in no time.
- First of all, where will you court her? - In the hills.
I'll pretend to be gathering snails or mushrooms,
as if hadn't noticed her.
Not so fast!
It's no good to be collecting mushrooms or snails.
Makes you look poor!
If you're rich, you gotta show it.
Don't present yourself in your two bit clothes.
Wear a new suit, and 'visibly' new.
A proper hunting outfit,
with leather leggings and matching hat.
And above all...
suspenders.
Pardon. Excuse my intrusion.
I'm looking for a hare I shot at. I'm sure it's wounded.
Are you, by any chance, little Manon?
The daughter of poor Monsieur Jean?
I see you don't remember me.
Naturally, because I've changed a lot.
I'm Ugolin...
your unfortunate father's friend.
You've changed too.
You've become a right proper demoiselle.
Gotta look carefully to recognize you.
You may wonder why we've never run into each other, in these hills.
These days I have no time to hunt on account of of my carnations.
Did you know I grow carnations?
Imagine how successful, I've been. I've made money, lots of money.
All in gold coins; well hidden!
In two years, my savings, will be worth 50,000 francs.
Do you think you'd like to return to Romarins?
I could stay in my house at Massacan,
and you and Baptistine could keep an eye on my carnations.
Hey, Manon, listen to me!
I know why you don't want to!
Because you're proud.
But we can work around your pride.
Carnations need to be watered and gathered.
Women can do that.
I'll pay you!
I'll pay you pretty well.
Manon!
It's not about offering you work. I lied.
It's because I love you.
I love you, Manon, with true love!
Manon!
I wanna marry you, I'm all alone. Dying of loneliness!
My grandfather's dead! My grandmother's dead!
My father hanged himself! My mother died of the flu!
All I have is Papet!
He's rich. He's old!
He'll croak soon!
He'll leave it all to me, and it'll all be yours!
Because I love you! I love you!
I love you.
I'm drowning. It's making me ill.
I saw you bathing in the rain puddles.
I watched you a long time, you were so beautiful.
I was afraid I'd commit a crime!
- So, did you speak to her? - I didn't see her.
Must've gone to Aubagne to sell her game birds. - Ah!
- Well, tomorrow, then. - We'll see.
First, I have to get used to this outfit.
You look superb!
Like a hunter from Marseilles!
- Oh, look! You see what I see? - What a lovely thrush!
This trap must belong to the hunchback's daughter.
- Think so? - Sure.
See, what'd I tell you? That must be her herd.
She can't be far.
Other people's traps are sacred. I never touch them.
Especially hers. It's all she has to live on, poor girl.
She sells thrushes at the Aubagne market. She's a proud one!
We've done enough harm to her, as it is.
Without meaning to! We're not responsible.
We're all responsible.
The whole village knew there was a spring at Romarins.
- No one said anything. - Why didn't you?
Because of Amelie.
- Wanna eat something? - I'd never refuse that.
Some mornings I'd go hunting around Romarins.
And I'd see that poor hunchback looking for water with his rod.
Once, he was right on top of it, but the rod didn't dip.
Later on, I saw him dig in the wrong spot.
That night it bothered me.
I mentioned it to Amelie.
Oh, my word, what a terrible scene!
"It's shameful to mind other people's business;
"hunchbacks bring bad luck;
"he was an outsider from Crespin; bla-bla-bla, etcetera, etcetera."
Well, you know my wife.
She made me swear to say nothing.
- So you didn't? - No.
Ugolin and Papet are first class bastards.
Yep, in that regard, we're all bastards.
Aahh!
- PAPET! - Oh! - My spring's stopped!
- What's this nonsense? - It's not running! - At all? - Not a drop!
I dug out the trench... Nothing! What'll we do? My carnations are budding!
- He planted 15,000. - You have the cistern.
The cistern will be empty in two days!
Springs are capricious, especially his. Don't worry.
- In 3 months it'll come back. - 3 months?! Holy Mother of God!
That's enough! Get up, you imbecile!
The water may be back, as we speak.
If not, with 2 mules, 4, if need be,
we can hold out. Let's go look.
It flowed, before. But, when the hunchback came, it stopped. Then...
Hey guys, our fountain's drying up!
It's barely a trickle. Come see!
- That's not possible. - What's going on?
Here too! Papet, we're screwed!
Calm down!
Well?
- Maybe a toad or snake stuck in the pipe. - Let's hope we don't end up like Ugolin.
Impossible! It hasn't stopped in 50 years.
I'll go check the catchment basin.
Nothing!
- OK, I'm off. - Don't worry.
Monsieur Jean, I know you.
You're a good man, up in heaven.
You can see my feet, so swollen, I can't wear shoes,
and my mule on the brink of death.
If this keeps up, in a week my carnations are screwed.
Allez!
C'mon, in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit,
give us back your daughter's spring. So be it.
Come on!
AMEN, Goddammit!
Hello? That's me.
Yes, I'm the mayor.
When will he get here... Tomorrow?!
We'll be dead, tomorrow, he must come right away!
We have no bread! The harvest is screwed!
It's a disaster!
I'll expect him tomorrow, noon, at town hall.
Thank you!
We're saved, the specialist is coming tomorrow.
- What specialist? - The one I've been calling all day!
The agricultural engineer.
The meeting is open.
Voila! I called this meeting over the question of water.
It's not a "question". It's a catastrophe!
Well said: "catastrophe"!
But thanks to my personal efforts and thanks to my telephone,
I called to our aid, the Agricultural Engineer.
The Agricultural Engineer. Voila!
Messieurs,
I've studied your problem.
And here's the report I'll file to the attention of the Chief Engineer.
Perdrix Spring, that fed your village fountain,
was the most important, most reliable one in the whole region.
It came from a fissure between two limestone layers
of the late cretaceous period.
Not a case of diaclasis, but a resurgence of the Vauclusian type.
Let's not confuse the two.
Clearly, then,
the layer between the two impervious ones surfaced by this path.
The water, capped by the upper strata, became pressurized
and formed a trapped layer that fed your catchment basin, by resurgence.
The basin, then, fed the fountain in the village by pipe, by gravity.
Oh yeah, that's serious!
So, at the request of your mayor,
as mandated by the Ministry,
we researched the causes of this deplorable accident.
First of all, what was the origin of the water?
Fortunately we have a very valuable document.
Now, it's getting interesting!
It's a study, by the Chief Engineer,
that outlines, in a clear and useful manner
some field surveys made five years ago in this region.
Unfortunately...
your spring doesn't figure on the Chief Engineer's survey map.
It's impossible to integrate it into the *orography of the Huveaune River, or any of its affluents.
So, where does that get us?
If the water isn't local, we must conclude it comes from farther away.
- I want the floor. - This is not the time!
What I have to say is short!
Instead of yakking so long he should bring back the water. Afterwards, he can explain!
I'm not in the waterworks department.
The first hypothesis is drought.
Possibly a slight drop in the water table may be the cause of all your problems.
If the resurgence is drawn down by a series of parallel dolomites into the Jurassic layer,
it should overcome this by way of a syphon system.
You know what a syphon is?
A rubber tube to draw wine!
Exactly.
After the next rain, the syphons will be primed,
as the underground lake which feeds your springs rises to its habitual level.
Underground lake?!
Certainly! Those who oppose progress aren't always right.
If progress returns my water, I embrace it!
If my spring flows again, here's 100 francs for progress!
Wait for the rest...
the rest of this load of bollocks.
Now, the second hypothesis.
The underground stream cut through its bed and fell into a cave system.
Once these cavities are filled the water regains its old level and the spring flows again.
In how many days?
How many days, is impossible to say, precisely.
Maybe two days...
Maybe two years.
Maybe 100 years.
That can't be excuded!
All right, third hypothsesis...
To hell with hypotheses! There's no bread, what can you do for us?
For your domestic needs, the Ministry will provide
a daily tank truck with 5,000 liters of water.
It should suffice to cover your most urgent needs.
How much water for my carnations?
If the water's not back in a month, what can you do for us?
We'd suggest you farm elsewhere.
What do you want me to say?
There's plenty of villages with abundant water!
No, monsieur! The Municipal Council can't accept that!
Your Council's influence over subterranean phenomena is less than ZERO.
- Third hypothesis... - Fuck your 'apothecaries'!
This is our Ministry?! What a hell of a way to administer!
Monsieur, the Ministry suggests you take a flying fuck!
You'll have to manage with the water truck.
The truck'll be here Sunday. Mesdames and messieurs, good-bye!
Take it easy, or they'll send the police!
Where is he? Where is he?
Where's the President of the Water Syndicate?
Who's the President of the Water Syndicate?
It's not me, it's YOU!
I'm only President because I'm the mayor and I have a phone!
- And what's this? - Your receipt for the water bill. - Exactly!
Fifty-two francs, plus the stamp.
You took my money. Where's the water, I paid for?
If you'd come earlier, the engineer would've explained the *orography.
You must take into account the orography.
I'm not taking anything into account! Especially, not that!
I paid for water, I want my water!
Listen, a water truck will come every day from the Prefecture.
Bring your mule and barrels
and you'll get 150 litres a day like everybody else.
First: I have no mule, I have a donkey.
Second: 150 litres will do for a bistro, not for a pasture.
Third: I paid for spring water, not truck water!
I think the truck water comes from a spring.
But not mine! I paid for water! I want my water!
Stop yelling!
You're exhausting yourself and us. It's pointless!
Oh, Mother of God! What about my aubergines?
And 600 tomato* plants, big as my fist? (love apples)
It's a widespread affliction. A case of force majeure!
I'm major force, too! I paid for water, I want my water!
The spring isn't running.
Where do you expect us to get it?
Wherever you want! But make it come out of MY pipe!
And you, don't stick your nose in this business!
You may a Councilman, but I didn't vote for you!
Like, I give a fuck about your vote!
You pain in the ass, where do you think you are?
I'm among water thieves!
Stop! Stop! Stop!
- Good morning, Messieurs. - 'Morning
Today is my birthday.
After Mass you're invited for an aperitif, at the schoolyard.
You can't choose the day you're born.
My brothers, I am truly glad.
Glad to see you all gathered in our little church.
The whole parish is here.
I even see a small group of 'intellects' perhaps, too intellectual...
Who habitually observe Holy Mass on the terrace of a cafe.
I won't name the cafe. We only have one.
I won't name those persons, since you're all staring at them.
Which ought to fill them with shame, but, their stony hearts cause them to smirk!
You come, clasping your hands, visibly shaken,
distraught by faith and repentance.
But, God knows you're here because your spring has stopped.
The prayers you pretend to address to Him,
are pleas for your beans, orations for your tomatoes,
hallelujahs for Jerusalem artichokes, hosannas for your pumpkins!
As for the spring, I must speak seriously.
I'm incessantly asking myself the same question.
This water... so pure, so abundant, so constant, until now... why did it dry up?
And in the hour of our need?
I, once, read in a profane (secular) work; a Greek tragedy about...
the unfortunate city of Thebes struck by an all consuming plague
because its king had committed crimes.
I considered the question:
"is there a criminal among us?"
It's not at all impossible.
The greatest crimes aren't in the newspapers. Many escape man's justice.
But God knows them all.
First, I'd like to address this unknown criminal, if he exists.
I'd like to say to him,
my brother...
there's no error that can't be forgiven,
no crime that can't be redressed.
Sincere repentance erases all.
Our Lord, Jesus Christ, uttered this surprising phrase:
There is more room in heaven for one repentant sinner, than for one hundred just persons. (Luke 15:7)
Whatever your sin, however great your offense, try to redress it.
Repent! You shall be saved.
And your spring will flow, lovelier than ever!
- Papet. - Hm?
He harped on the subject. He looked at me three times.
What could this cleric know? He's been here less than a year.
Yeah, but, maybe somebody told him in confession.
Ah, Anglade! That's NOT impossible. He's such a bigot...
that he's liable to confess other people's sins.
- What worries me is the girl. - Me too.
She gave you a dirty look.
She looked at me twice as if to say, "The criminal, is you."
- No, she doesn't know anything, either. - Then, why does she worry you?
It seems, she's not interested in you.
Happy birthday.
Happy birthday and good health to our school instructor!
- Happy birthday - Merci. - Here's to you!
***[Provencal]
How about that sermon! What did you think?
What do you expect me to think? It's just words.
I don't think the spring dried up by divine intervention.
The priest seemed to allude to a crime that he knows.
He couldn't speak clearly, no doubt, because he heard it in confession.
What crime?
If anyone committed a crime, in the village, we'd all know.
No, it seemed to me, the speech was addressed to someone.
- Who? - Who?
He seemed to look, often, at Ugolin.
Especially as he spoke of the king who brought the plague down on everybody.
- So, I've got the plague, now?! - Don't say such things, even as a joke!
- O-hoh, you got a whiff of our Pastis! - I didn't come about Pastis but about water!
I want to speak to you. I have something important to tell you.
- Me? - Yes, you.
If you want, you can bring back our water.
Me? How?
By coming to the procession. Will you?
Then, our fountain will never flow again.
Do you take her for a saint?!
An orphan's prayer soars to heaven like a lark.
Our Lord Jesus Christ will gladly hear its song.
She's innocent and if she prays for us we're saved.
Yes, Manon, you must come. You must save our carnations.
I won't pray for the criminals who stole my father's spring!
I don't understand.
They understand.
They know why God is punishing them.
Explain. Do you know the criminal?
There are two.
That's them.
If we're to be treated like criminals, I'd rather go home. Come, Galinette.
M. Soubeyran, your precipitous retreat is not in your favour.
I don't give a fuck, what anyone may think!
I keep my own conscience!
Let's go!
- You coming? - No.
First, I want her to tell me what she's accusing me of,
because I know the means of fixing everything.
I'd like to know how they managed to steal your father's water.
It's purely in her imagintion!
It's true, her father lacked water
and maybe that ruined him.
He searched a long time and surely would've found it,
if he didn't die by accident.
When my nephew and I, saw those two women on their own,
we bought their little farmstead.
In part because we liked it, to tell the truth.
In part, also, to do them a favour!
Later, we searched for the spring,
and had the luck of finding it. Voila!
That's what she calls "stealing his water"!
"You give'em your bread, and they shit on your head!"
- Come on, Galinette. - It's not true, he's lying!
The truth is, the spring always existed.
The truth is, you blocked the spring. That's the truth.
Why would they do that?
To buy it for chicken feed.
Without water, the farm was worthless.
My father's dead, because of these assassins.
It's not true! It's calumny! I found it by dangling my pocket-watch.
You and your mother saw me using my pocket-watch.
You were holding a squash under your arm. Tell the truth!
In less than an hour?!
I suppose, the spring told you what God Himself told Pascal:
"You wouldn't look for me, unless you'd already found me." (Pensées 553)
Fuck Pascal! I met him only once. He was rude, so I smacked him around a bit!
You may laugh, but it's true.
Here's what we've come to.
What she ACTUALLY saw, she won't believe; but what she NEVER saw, she believes.
Who saw us block up the spring?
Ah!
Who saw us block up that spring?
ME! I saw you.
I saw both of you.
Liar! What do you think you saw, you pitiful idiot?
You could never even tell left from right.
In the army, they put an "X" on his left hand and two on his right.
He still didn't get it, so they sent him home.
Hah! I sure fooled them! Wasn't easy, but it worked.
The major had his doubts, once he said...
We're not interested in in your life story, just what you saw.
What he saw? Nothing! He dreamt it.
I never dream!
- It was 9 or 10 years ago. - See? Doesn't even know the date!
Just after Pique-Bouffigue died.
I was at Romarins, hunting partridge.
There was a puddle, where partridges came to drink,
since the farmhouse was empty.
I picked the lock, went to the granary loft... - How lovely!
Ransacking a dead man's house. Just, lovely!
Pique-Bouffigue had two small windows under the gutters
to shoot at thrushes. I sat there and I slept.
Ah, you see, he slept! He dreamt it, I tell you!
I slept, but I didn't dream!
Suddenly I heard the sounds of a pick-axe and woke up.
And, through the attic window,
I saw this one digging, and the other keeping a lookout.
I didn't dare move.
I saw water gush out of the hole.
Then, they got cement and I saw them plug the spring!
Why didn't you tell her father?
It was none of my business.
God punished them by cutting their water but He cut ours, too.
So, now it IS my business!
Listen, all of you.
Suppose what you're saying is true, which it isn't, eh?
I'm just, supposing.
You don't know that, I'd give it all to her;
the spring, the carnations, the farm, the fortune,
the Soubeyran inheritance, my life.
You know it. I told you on the hill.
I love you more than it's possible to say.
Listen.
Listen to me, Manon.
All the time, you haunt me. All the time, I mutter to you.
My food has lost its taste, it's killing my sleep...
If you won't have me, I'll either die or go crazy.
Shut up, imbecile. Let's go.
Think about it, just a little.
Don't you see what a terrible muddle I'm in?
Remorse for the harm I've caused you,
and delight at all the good I would do for you.
Don't you see how hard I'll work for you?
- Don't you see, my love? My lo.. - Get him away from me!
My love.
C'mon, don't be silly, stand up.
Think, Manon. Think about it.
I'll die for your love, and nobody will care!
Come, Galinette, come home.
NOOO! This is all your fault!
I lost everything because of you!
If I'd known...
Galinette!
Galinette, my boy!
I'm staying!
Since everybody's against him, I'll stay to defend him.
Seems a difficut task.
You know very well, there's never been a spring at Romarins.
Perhaps a little puddle.
But, I found the real spring!
Come on, all of you, from Bastides, like me...
tell them there never was a spring!
Pay careful attention to this.
If you knew there was one, and didn't tell the hunchback...
then you're responsible for his death.
That old sonofabitch!
- You knew? - Sure, we knew. Everybody knew.
Nobody dared oppose the Soubeyrans to defend an outsider from Crespin.
Mostly he hated my grandmother. And took it out on her son.
- What grandmother? - Florette.
They never forgave her for leaving Bastides to marry a man from Crespin.
Florette was your grandmother?
The hunchback was Florette's son?
Monsieur!
Monsieur, Le Papet said he wants to see you and the mayor too.
Le Papet wants to see you. You too, M. "L'oiseau". - Me?
Yeah, he said to come quick and that you'd be pleased.
- Where is he? - At Romarins, waiting.
What's up with Cesar?
Put him on the table.
Put him there.
Go to the village...
tell the mute woman to get some candles from the church.
At least six, of the largest ones.
And the linen sheet his grandmother wove.
You, Pamphile, prepare the casket.
You'll find some oak boards in the attic.
Old oaks, I'd intended for myself.
I know, you ordered them from me.
Use them for him.
And, especially, you should all...
say he fell from a tree.
Keep it secret...
for three days. Until after the ceremony.
Or the priest won't perform the proper rites.
Now, go.
I'll stay with you.
There's no need.
I'm not saying she could've loved him.
But, she could've married him, and gotten her best revenge,
by driving him out of his mind.
Papet, I'm leaving because I can't take it anymore.
It's not about the carnations. Who cares if they die.
It's because of my love.
I realized she'd never have me.
I suspected it because my love ribbon caused a burning abcess.
When I told her in front of everyone that I wanted to marry and give it all to her,
she spat on me with words.
What's more, she fled towards the schoolteacher.
When he talks to her, she stares at the ground.
When he stops, she yearns for him to continue.
He's not astonished by this. He finds it perfectly natural.
He doesn't know how lucky he is, but I know my own misery.
I can't stand him. I'd like to kill him.
But it would hurt her.
So be it, I won't deny her.
I leave her my farm and all that's hidden in it
you know under the stone, left of the fireplace.
Don't give her a hard time. It's not her fault or yours.
It's fate.
Have some Masses said for me,
because, up there, I'll have some explaining to do about the spring.
Adessias*, Papet. (Adieu)
It pains me to quit you, but, I cannot stay.
You know?
Yes, I know.
What will you do?
I don't know.
I don't think I'll go back there.
Too many bad memories.
I'd always see him hanging in place of my swing.
And he must have left his odor around the house.
Will you join the procession?
If the water won't come back...
if you're persuaded it never will, I suggest you go.
If your father was still alive
and had the power to give them back their spring,
what would he do?
My father would have liked to be their friend.
In memory of him, do what he would have done.
♪ ***
One, two...
♪ ***
You think this procession will help?
You never know.
I dunno how I'd feel if, at the first oremus*, the fountain began to flow.
I'd be terrified, I'd have to go to confession immediately.
Voila. That's the problem. If the water returned today,
I know several fools who'd reason like you.
With a village full of fanatics I'd surely lose the mayorship.
Ah, for sure! Miracles are very unforgiving, for sure.
Something's happening!
Stop! Stop!
It's breathing... It's breathing.
The pipe is venting.
A miracle!
On your knees!
On your knees, everybody kneel!
There's no miracle in this!
Just a coincidence, is all!
♪ Doucement bat mon coeur
♪ Le chant d'un merle moqueur
In nomine patris et fili et spiritu sancti. Amen.
♪ Dans le ciel d'automne Je vous aime
♪ Instant supreme Tant de bonheur
♪ Croyez moi sans peur
♪ Croyez moi et puis...
♪ Doux ami acceptez mon offrande
♪ Voulez vous de ma vie
♪ Vous mon ame
♪ Vous O mon amant Doux
♪ ce moment si precieux
♪ Gardez moi Pour Toujours
♪ Dans vos bras
♪ Ce soir dans la chapelle
♪ Doucement bat mon coeur
I recognize your footsteps.
Your ear is as sharp as an eye.
That's hardly a replacement, Cesar.
No replacement at at all.
Belly dancing is all very well...
but you did a foolish thing while you were over there.
Me?
I say "foolish," but it's practically a crime.
I don't know what foolishness you mean.
I got wounded, they were going to make me corporal.
That's something else.
I'm thinking of a letter you received.
What letter?
One that deserved an answer.
An you never answered.
A letter from whom?
I see, you don't want to talk about it
because you think I don't know.
- Delphine, I swear... - Don't swear, scoundrel!
Excuse me for bringing up something unpleasant for you.
Unpleasant for me?
Look Delphine, we're in front of the church,
I can see the cross up on the steeple.
Before this cross, I swear, I never received any letter...
...except from my father, Anglade and Castagne.
Well, then, that makes this a disaster.
Why?
Swear again that you're not spouting hypocrisy.
I swear. Who wrote to me?
Florette.
Florette Camoins?
You know very well there were not two Florettes.
Are you sure?
I gave the letter to the mailman, myself.
I'd never forget a letter from her.
I still keep two half-faded penciled notes of hers
and a comb with her hair.
Oh, yeah.
When I came back, she'd left the village.
She was married to that blacksmith in Crespin.
And she already had a child.
How is it possible for that letter to get lost?
You know, over there, we changed our location a lot.
Sometimes we didn't get our food or even cartridges.
It was quite possible for letters to get lost.
But, if I'd received it
I'd remember it by heart.
If that's true, it's just terrible.
You think she loved me?
Imbecile!
She never told me.
Even after what happened one night,
coming home from Anglade's barn dance.
That was her character.
In her letter
she told you she was pregnant.
What?
Yes.
You'd been gone about three weeks.
She said, if you wrote to her father,
promising to marry her,
she'd wait for you.
She could have shown her letter to the whole village
and no one would dream of mocking her.
Are you sure?
Poor girl, couldn't sleep.
She tried to lose the baby with devilish concoctions.
In the hills, she'd jump from rockfaces.
But it clung tight to her.
Then, she detested you.
She went to dance at Aubagne,
where she met the blacksmith from Crespin.
She left the village
and no one ever knew when the child was born.
Was it born alive?
Yes, alive...
but a hunchback.
Oh, I hear Clairette coming.
Come here, my girl.
It's starting to get nippy.
I think I'd be better off near a fire.
Adessias, Cesar. (Adieu)
Rest assured, I've never told anyone.
I'll pray for you.
What is it, Papet? Are you ill?
Don't stand here. Let's find some shelter.
Are you sick? Want me to call a doctor?
- I'll call Ombrées, if you want. - No, thanks.
I know what's wrong.
Lean on me. I'll take you back.
My friend, I don't see you anywhere near death's door.
Well, that's where I see myself.
I know I'll be gone tonight.
What makes you think that?
I'll die because I have no wish to go on.
Come, confess me.
You'll see, I really need it.
You know that suicide is a mortal sin?
I won't need to kill myself.
All I need, is to let myself go.
♪ [Lei pastoureu]
Dear God, I beg you, don't let her baby be a hunchback.
Dear little Manon,
the notary at Ombrées will tell you that I'm leaving you my whole estate.
This may astonish you, but it's the God's honest truth.
The notary will give you all the deeds and papers.
Because your father was my son.
My Soubeyran heir, which I've longed for, all my life
and who I watched die, bit by bit, because I didn't know it was him.
If I'd only to told him about the spring, now, he'd still be playing his harmonica
and you'd all be living in our family home.
No one knows of this, yet I'm ashamed to face the world,
even the trees.
Someone in the village, knows all about it.
If you mention my letter, she'll explain. It's Delphine, the old blind woman.
She'll tell you it's all Africa's fault.
I haven't earned the right to say I embrace you...
and I never dared speak to you.
But, maybe now, you can forgive me
and sometimes say a little prayer
for poor Ugolin and me.
I feel like a pitiful wretch.
Imagine, out of malice, I never went near him.
I never knew his voice or his face.
I never looked, close, into his eyes, which might have been his mother's.♥
I only saw his hump and his pain: all harm that I caused him.
So, you can understand why I pine for death.
Compared to the torment of my thoughts,
even hell would be a delight.
Anyway, I'll see him up there. I'm not afraid of him, on the contrary.
Now he knows he's a Soubeyran
and no longer a hunchback by my fault.
He understands that it all came about through folly.
I'm sure that instead of blaming me
he'll defend me.
Adessias, ma pitchounette. (Adieu, my sweet girl) Your grandfather, Cesar Soubeyran.