Train

Labiche:
Why not? What can they lose? This morning we had four men left in this group. Now we have three. One, two, three.

Pesquet:
Bernard?

Labiche:
We started with eighteen. Like your paintings, mademoiselle, we couldn't replace them. For certain things we take the risk, but I won't waste lives on paintings.

Miss Villard:
They wouldn't be wasted! Excuse me, I know that's a terrible thing to say. But those paintings are part of France. The Germans want to take them away. They've taken our land, our food, they live in our houses, and now they're trying to take our art. This beauty, this vision of life, born out of France, our special vision, our trust... we hold it in trust, don't you see, for everyone? This is our pride, what we create and hold for the world. There are worse things to risk your life for than that.

Labiche:
I'm sorry, mademoiselle, we can't help you.

Labiche:
Mark it!

Labiche:
Paint it? For von Waldheim-- make him a present? To hell with London! We started this whole thing for one reason: to stop the train, because the Allies were going to be here! Well, where are they? Every day they've been due, and every day a man has been killed for thinking they were just over the next hill. I say to hell with them. Now they want us to paint the train? Let 'em blow it up!

Didont:
Paul, it'd be too bad, if it got blown up... that is, if it could be saved. Papa Boule, Pesquet, the others... they wanted it saved.

Labiche:
And they're dead. And they'll never know!

Didont:
But we will.

Colonel von Waldheim:
I asked for two cranes.

Colonel von Waldheim:
All von Runstedt can lose is men. This train is more valuable.

Colonel von Waldheim:
Labiche! Here's your prize, Labiche. Some of the greatest paintings in the world. Does it please you, Labiche? Give you a sense of excitement in just being near them? A painting means as much to you as a string of pearls to an ape. You won by sheer luck: you stopped me without knowing what you were doing, or why. You are nothing, Labiche -- a lump of flesh. The paintings are mine; they always will be; beauty belongs to the man who can appreciate it! They will always belong to me or to a man like me. Now, this minute, you couldn't tell me why you did what you did.

Miss Villard:
I knew of books being burned, other things... I was terrified that these would be lost.

Colonel von Waldheim:
A book is worth a few francs; we Germans can afford to destroy those. We all may not appreciate artistic merit, but cash value is another matter.

Miss Villard:
You won't convince me that you're cynical. I know what these paintings mean to you.

Colonel von Waldheim:
You are a perceptive woman.

Colonel von Waldheim:
We're removing the paintings. Pack them carefully.

Miss Villard:
Where are you taking them?!

Colonel von Waldheim:
To a safe place.

Miss Villard:
But no place is as safe as Paris!

Labiche:
Thank you.

Christine:
I don't want your thanks. If they'd caught me helping you, I would have been shot.

Labiche:
I know. I'm sorry.

Christine:
You think you can just run in and out of here and make trouble? I run a hotel, not a madhouse. Who's going to pay for the door? Who's going to pay for the lock? Do you think money grows on trees?

Labiche:
There's a war...

Christine:
You talk about the war. I talk about what it costs!

Labiche:
I'll be leaving in a few hours. You can go back to your good customers.

Christine:
They pay. That's what I'm in business for.

Labiche:
You should be paid. How much for the damage?

Christine:
One hundred francs.

Labiche:
How much for saving my life?

Labiche:
Where are the Allies?

Labiche:
Gesture! They can make gestures! Let them make one for Pesquet, or Jacques! That kid of Lefèvre's... he'd appreciate a gesture.

Didont:
I don't like it.

Pesquet:
Who does?

Didont:
I mean the art train. If the Germans want it so much, maybe we should do something.

Didont:
With luck, no one will be hurt.

Labiche:
No one's ever hurt. Just dead.

Didont:
Paul, uh, have you ever seen any of those paintings on that train? I haven't. You know, when it's over, I think maybe we should take a look, hmm?

Christine:
Men want to be heroes, and their widows mourn.