:01:47
It's no use, Émile.
The place is like a sieve.
:01:51
It would take all the rags in Paris
to stuff half its holes.
:01:55
Paris.
:01:57
Vast. Motionless.
:02:00
A gigantic mother brooding over her
millions of children, good and bad.
:02:05
It's magnificent, Cézanne.
You must paint it.
:02:09
As someday I shall write it.
:02:11
No, Zola. It's hopeless.
:02:14
You know that people don't want
to see the stark face of truth.
:02:20
They would much prefer
perfumed lights like these.
:02:25
They ought to be burned
like something unclean.
:02:29
Why, Paul, that's splendid.
:02:31
Why didn't you think of that before?
We shall have a fire!
:02:35
- We could sell them and...
- What?
:02:37
And expose others
to their stinking hypocrisies?
:02:40
No, my friend. We'll burn them...
:02:43
...and let their lying pages
warm the bones of men of truth!
:02:48
There we are.
:02:53
Well, look at that. Even the old stove
rebels at the vile trash.