I'm very tired. Rest me. You're the warrior's rest... Love is a kind of euthanasia""- this admission by Jean Renaud-Sarti, to Genevieve, the girl who loves him, is also a kind of submission after months of a furiously destructive relationship. For Renaud is sick; he has given up working (writing); he drinks; and he admits that his one ambition is to ""succeed in not giving a damn about not giving a damn"". But Genevieve's love for him is strong and shameless- equal to the brutalizing scenes which take place; only from time to time there are alarming indications that her tuberculosis has flared up again- And it seems to be a shaky relationship which will kill or cure- either one or the other. Her illness, however, brings out the best in him- and at the end he gives in to the demands, and responsibilities, of the attachment he has resisted.... Suffering in anything but silence, here are the French ""beat""- or close to it- with love the all-purpose purifier.