Are you from the printers?
We’ve been waiting...

Madame Sand. Pardon. Please excuse...
Madame Sand is on her way up.
Don’t do that!
"(whistles)" It is rather far.
- I’ll have to face her, that’s all.
- Alfred!

I’ll be perfectly behaved.
Even a little scornful.

No, you won’t. You’ll be impossible.
I don’t want a scene. Now get in there.
And hurry up!
Hello, George!
I wasn’t expecting you till next month.

- How are the children, the country?
- Fine.

Listen. I need another 3,000 francs.
What happened to the advance you got?
You know my expenses.
The children, the estate,

my mother’s nursing home...
The divorce took half of everything.

All right. But let me have
one more instalment first.

How? I’ve got no place to work.
What’s wrong with the country?
Mallefille is there.
The children do need a tutor, but...
I just can’t
stand the sight of him any more.

I tell him outright I want him to leave
and he plainly refuses.

I’m a coward, of course. I can never
simply boot my lovers down the stairs.

- Ha!
- What?

Why don’t you
stay here in Paris and write?

Because Alfred’s here.
I’ve got to go somewhere.
Anywhere, I don’t know.

Maybe I should just curl up and die, yes?
Listen, Buloz. I need 3,000 francs now.
Let me read this... and we’ll talk tonight
at the Baroness Laginsky’s party.

I hadn’t planned to attend.
Alfred might be there.

I know for a fact that he won’t.
All right.