Actress Romy Schneider, with whom the deceased on August 18 of this year Alain Delon had a 5-year relationship, died on May 29, 1982
Schneider fell into a deep depression after her son David died in July 1981, aged 14, in an accident.
Cardiac arrest was recorded as the cause of her death. An autopsy was not performed on her body. It remains unknown whether what happened to her was due to the alcohol she ingested, as well as the drugs found on her desk.
We bring you Alain Delon's farewell letter to his dead ex-girlfriend, with whom they had not been together for a long time at the time of her death.
Goodbye, my doll,
I watch you sleep. I am with you, by your deathbed. You are wearing a long red and black tunic with embroidery on the chest. I think they are flowers, but I don't look at them. I say goodbye to you, the longest goodbye, my doll. I always called you that. I don't look at the flowers, but at your face, and I think that you are beautiful, that maybe you have never been so beautiful. I also think that for the first time in my life I see you so serene and calm. It's as if a gentle hand has wiped all worries and fears from your face.
I'm watching you sleep. They tell me you're dead. I think about you, about me, about us. How guilty am I? One asks this question only in front of the one whom he loved and whom he still loves. This feeling washes over you, then subsides, and then you tell yourself that it is not your fault, but you are responsible....I am responsible to you. Because of me last night your heart stopped beating. Because of me, because twenty-five years ago I was chosen as your partner in "Kristina".
You were arriving from Vienna and I was waiting for you in Paris with a bouquet of flowers in my hand that I didn't know how to hold. The producers of the film had told me: "When you see her getting off the plane , approach her and give her the flowers." I waited with the flowers like a fool among a horde of photographers. You came down. I stepped forward. You asked your mother, "Who is this boy?" And she replied: "It must be Alain Delon, your partner...." And nothing more. It wasn't love at first sight.
Later I went to Vienna where the movie was shot. There I fell madly in love with you. And you fell madly in love with me. We have often asked ourselves the eternal question of lovers: "Who fell in love first?" You or me?" We counted one, two, three and answered each other: "Neither you nor I! We fell in love at the same time!" God, how young and happy we were! At the end of the filming I said to you: "Come live with me in France." And you immediately answered me: "I want to live with you in France." Do you remember?
Your family, your parents went crazy. All of Austria, all of Germany was outraged. They called me a usurper, a kidnapper of children. I was accused of kidnapping "Empress Sisi". Me, one, a Frenchman who didn't know a word of German. And you, doll who didn't know a word of French. At first we loved each other without words. We looked at each other and smiled. Doll...And I was already Pepe. After a few months I still didn't speak a word of German, but you already spoke French so well that we played a theater in France. The director was Visconti.
He said that we look alike, that when we furrow our brows in anger, fear or worry, the same V appears between them. He called it "Rembrandt's V", he said that it evident in the artist's self-portraits. I watch you sleep. "Rembrandt's V" has disappeared. You are no longer afraid, you are no longer alert, because no one is chasing you anymore. The hunt is over and you are resting. I keep looking at you. I know you so well. I know who you are and why you're dead. I know your character. I answer to the others that Romi's character is just Romi's character. That's all. Leave me alone.
You were very vulnerable because you were harmonious. A child who very quickly and very early became a star. And this explained, on the one hand, your whims, your outbursts of anger and the frequent change of mood, as with children, your reactions - explainable but difficult to predict, and, on the other hand, your professional behavior. Yes, but at the same time, there was also the child living inside you who didn't know exactly what he was playing with. With whom. And why. And fear and unhappiness crept through that crack.
This is what happens when you are Romy Schneider, in the prime of your life and so sensitive and temperamental. How do I explain to "others" who were you really and who are we - the "actors"! How can I explain to them that we, from constantly playing, interpreting, from stepping into someone else's skin, sometimes forget who we are and feel lost. How can I tell them how hard it is and what strength of character and poise a man needs to keep his dignity and keep walking with his head held high!
But where to find this inner stability in this world, in a world like ours, in this circus where we are jugglers, clowns, acrobats, gilded by the spotlight? You used to say: "In my life I can do nothing, but in the cinema I can do everything"... No, "others" they cannot understand this. They cannot understand that the bigger an actor you become, the more unfit you are for life. Garbo, Marilyn, Rita Hayworth... And you.
And while you rest, I stand so close to you, crying and screaming - no, no, no, this terrible profession is not for a woman. I know because I am the person who he knew and understood you best. Because I'm an actor. We were of the same blood type, my doll, we spoke the same language. But I'm a man. "The Others" they cannot understand us. Only the actors understand us. This is inexplicable. And when it comes to a woman like you, they can't understand that you died of "this". They say you were a myth... Of course you were...
But the "myth" is only a facade, a halo. Myth is the king, the prince, Sissi, Madame Anneau, the seagull... But in the evening the myth goes home. Then he is only Romy - a woman whose life they do not understand, whom they mistreat and whom the newspapers hunt and attack. Then loneliness destroys the myth. Myth becomes fear. And the more a person realizes this himself, the more he gets entangled in the web of alcohol and sedatives. And this addiction becomes a habit, then a necessity. Then one can no longer do without it and the heart stops because it is too tired to beat.
This heart has been abused and rejected for a very long time. It was the heart of a woman who spends her evenings alone with a glass in her hand. They say the despair of David's death killed them. No, they are lying. It didn't kill you, it just finished you. It is true that you used to say to Laurent, your last and wonderful companion in life: "I think I have reached the bottom..." It is true that you wanted to live because you loved life. It is also true that on Saturday dawn you hit rock bottom. And when your heart broke, you were alone and only you knew that this was really rock bottom. I am writing to you by accident. In a mess. My doll, so aggressive and so hurt.
What you feared most happened - your private life was exposed. You were always alert like a hunted animal, like a chased doe. You knew well that with one hand fate took from you what it gave you with the other. We lived next to each other for more than five years. You with me. Me with you. Together. Then life...Our life, which affects no one, separated us. But we didn't cut off our relationship. Yes, that's right, we were aiming for each other.
Then in 1968 it was the turn of "The Pool". We met again to work. I came to pick you up from Germany and met your son David. After our film we felt like brother and sister. There was no passion between us and everything was clear. There was something better: our blood friendship, the similarity between us, the words we used to get along.
After that, there was only misery and fear in your life. "The Others" they will say: "What an actress! How masterfully he plays tragic roles!" They don't know that the tragedy on the screen is actually inside you. They don't understand that the dramas of your personal life later spill over into your roles. Oh, my doll, this torturous profession!
I'm watching you sleep. Yesterday you were still alive. I'm alone again. And I say to myself: you loved me. I loved you. You know that I could not protect you from the crowd, from the whirlwind, so thirsty for a "spectacle" that scared you so much and made you tremble. Forgive me. I will come to see you tomorrow and we will be alone. My baby doll, I keep looking at you. I want to drink you in with a look and repeat again that you have never been so beautiful and calm. Get some rest. I'm here. I learned a little German with you. I love you i love you I love you my doll.