Feux rouges

Don't believe me?
If it's true,
then it went to your head.

Think I'm drunk?
You talk as if you are.
Am I talking nonsense?
No, but you hate me.
Not at all.
I can see it in your eyes.
- Why won't you understand?
- Understand what?

I don't hate you. I just wish
you'd treat me like a man sometimes.

And let you stop at every bar?
- Here we go again!
- What?

You always find the putdown.
- Think I'm an alcoholic?
- I wouldn't have married an alcoholic.

- Do I drink often?
- Not often.

- How many times a year?
- I've never counted.

Two or three times at most.
So what's got into you?
Dunno. I'm in a tunnel tonight.
It's your fault.
If only you didn't treat me
as the lowest of the low,

as soon as I feel like
stepping out of line.

Is your life that tough?
Take Hervé...
Every evening he's half-drunk.
But you still find him interesting.
You talk to him for hours,

even when he's smashed.
First, he's not my husband.
And second?
- There's a truck.
- I saw it! Mind talking about Hervé?

Will you shut up!
I'm trying to read the signs!

- Admit you'd rather be with him.
- Stop it!

Now we're on Route 10.
Tours is to the left.