LES COUSINS


He has the political ambitions of that bivalve mollusk’, whom our barbarous ancestors, I lost my train of thought – Τhou art a royal pain in the ass!

 

Stop playing the fool. You’re not impressing anyone.

– Very little.

– Τhe provinces are dead.

 

Listen, drink and eat, but leave us alone, okay? One lifetime isn’t enough for all there is to read, and to see them fritter away their time – You’re right.

 

I spent the last ten years reading and loved every minute. I tell them, “Read Dostoyevsky. He addresses all your concerns.” They say they have no concerns.

– You seem bitter.

– And with good cause.

 

You know, when I said… I’d been waiting for you… I meant it.

 

What joy, my little ones!

What joy!

 

That’s enough Mozart.

Now…

Wagner.

 

Silence! Oh, Mother… Where are you?

 

I am a poor soldier… Alone. All alone… With no friends… With no comrades. Where are they? They’re all dead. All dead.

I’m sad.

I weep.

 

I cry out, “Help me!”

 

Mother… But no one hears. I’m all alone. One day, the war is over and spring returns.

 

The birds sing… The sun shines… Music is heard once more and we find love… Love. Bastard!

 

 

– Slut!

– Stop it!

 

Philippe, you’re causing a scene, and I abhor that. I’m free, and I do as I wish.

 

– You disgust me!

– And you’re a pain in the ass.

 

So are you!

So are all of you! You hear?

 

Why are you all gaping at me like that?

 

I hate you! I hope you all die like dogs! Go to hell, all of you!

 

I find that quite mad! Lots of problems and not much character.

 

He’s not equipped to handle it.

 

“So we’re poets now’ writing verse in secret?”

 

You have the skin of a temptress. See, you trembled! You’re all skin, my pussycat.

 

You’re made for caresses, not for things of the mind. He’s talking sense for once. Oh, she’s listening. She can’t stop listening. Isn’t that right?

– I’ve got two hours.

– I don’t need that long.

 

I have just one little thing to prove.

 

Admit that when your skin touches Charles’s, the feeling is quite repellent. Honestly, how does his skin make you feel?

– Leave me alone.

– You see?

 

You’re starting to realize you picked the wrong boy. Here… stroke my skin.

 

Then stroke Paul’s skin. Go on, do it. Where’s the harm in it? Paul, let her touch your skin.

 

– No, Clovis.

– Yes.

Come on, Florence. Go on… touch his skin.

Well’ my girl?

What do you think?

That’s the real thing. That’s skin that responds to the touch. Paul’s skin is something else entirely. The man who’ll save you from Charles… is Paul. Love one another, my lambs.

What are you waiting for?

 

Young people! If only all our problems were so trivial. Study, my boy. You’ll soon forget her. Drown yourself in your studies.

 

THE INSULT

THE LADY LIES

THE AGONY OF LOVE

MY MOTHER’S CASTLE

 

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