La Guerre est finie

All night I was afraid
we might break down.

But there was no reason.
I had the car checked.

An obsession.
You know how it is.

At night, the stretch
between Burgos and Miranda...

miles of desert around us--
No offense, but service stations in
your country leave a lot to be desired.

I didn't dare push the car too hard.
I was afraid.

If it weren't for you,
I would have played tourist today.

A good meal
in a seafood restaurant.

Crabe in a hot sauce
with a nice white wine.

Or roast pig at Bottine's,
behind the Plaza Mayor.

And in the afternoon,
a bullfight, of course.

I generally don't get the time
to see the towns I go to.

Believe it or not, I haven't even
set foot yet in the Prado in Madrid!

I can tell you now...
last night when you said
we had to rush back, I was furious.

That wasn't hard to see.
We usually spend the night talking, but
last night you acted like I didn't exist.

I'd arranged to be away three days.
My wife was going
to run the bookshop alone.

Today the Prado.
Tomorrow Toledo and Aranjuez.

A three-day vacation,
in other words.

So last night when you read
the letter I brought you...

and then said we had to set out
immediately, I was fuming!

So I ruined your trip, eh?
Take it up
with the Spanish police.

- There's a crowd already.
- Easter. They spend the day in Spain.

Easier for you.
They have less time to check passports.

- How did you manage it before?
- Before?

When the border was closed.
When there were no tourists.

We crossed over
through the mountains.

Sometimes we ran into
the Guardia Civil.

- And then?
- Then we'd shoot our way through.