All language subtitles for The Bride Wore Black (1968) EN

THE BRIDE WORE BLACK

(WEDDING MARCH PLAYING)

Julie! Julie! Julie!

-Better take this, dear.
-No, Mama.

-I don't need it.
-Please. For me.

-Must you go?
-Yes, Mama. I must.

You will come back
if you change your mind?

Yes, I will. Don't be sad.

Just tell me where you're going.
Leave me your address.

I don't have one yet. I'll write you.

Good-bye.

-Are you leaving, Aunt Julie?
-Yes. I'm going to the station.

-May I go with you?
-Yes, you may come with me.

Looking for someone, lady?

I'm looking for Mr. Bliss.
I believe he lives here.

Yes, ma'am. But I don't think he's in.

It's quite all right. I'll go up to his place.

-But there's nobody in, ma'am.
-Well, you say that he isn't in,

but you're not sure, are you?
I'll go upstairs then.

As long as I'm here,
I want to see his apartment.

But I can phone from here,
right before you.

If nobody answers,
you can leave a message for him.

Your name, please?

What's your name, please?

You hear it ringing?
Nobody's in the apartment.

Look, I've got a better idea.

Give me the key to the apartment.

I'll wait till he returns
and give him a real surprise.

I was just thinking.
I haven't been here very long,

and I don't even know
if they'll keep me on.

But maybe we don't mean
the same person.

-Mr. Bliss is a tall redhead, right?
-Yes, that's right.

Just as I feared. I don't have his key.

He must have taken it with him.
I'm very sorry.

I'm very sorry.

Mr. Bliss, just a second.
A woman was asking for you.

-Mrs. Bujol? She and I are finished.
-No, not her.

This woman has never been here before.
She wanted me to give her your key.

And she even tried to bribe me
with 100 francs.

Really?

-It wasn't little Annie, was it?
-No.

Then it was big Bertha.

-No. I know those two women.
-Tell me about it then.

(DOORBELL BUZZING)

-Hello.
-Hello.

-Did I wake you?
-No, it was time for me to get up anyhow.

-What's new?
-Nothing special.

-I was hoping you would say ''Gilberte.''
-What do you mean?

It's very simple. Question: What's new?
Answer: Gilberte.

You did say she was brand new,
didn't you?

You and your humor, you murder me.

So you're tying the knot tonight?
And what's this?

Better get rid of it before Gilberte finds it.

Since I broke up with Mrs. Bujol,
I've been living like a monk.

I also broke up with little Annie.
Gilberte's marrying a different man.

You know my motto, ''Don't run after
women. But don't let any get by.''

And I wanted to ask Gilberte
to choose a maid of honor

who isn't too... Who's kind of...
Well, you know what I mean.

It's about time you calm down.

''When you've seen one, you've seen
them all.'' You taught me that.

But I still want to see them all.
That's the problem.

Women. That's all you think about.

You can't keep this up forever.
You're not getting any younger.

No problem.
I've thought about that day quite often.

I'll use Hemingway's way out...
Bang, bang.

My way out is called ''Gilberte.''
You can't believe that I'm in love, can you?

Go to my bedroom,
you'll find a tape recorder by the bed.

-I see it.
-Good. Press the red button.

-The red button?
-Yes.

Just listen to that. Terrific, isn't it?

(NYLONS RUBBING)

Go back to the start.

(NYLONS RUBBING)

I taped Gilberte crossing her legs.
She didn't know what I was up to.

Listen to the sound of her stockings
rubbing against each other.

How do you like it?

That's the sound of nylons.

I tried it when she was wearing silk
stockings, but you couldn't hear a thing.

-I wonder what she's doing right now.
-And with whom, you mean.

You're just envious, you traitor.
But you'll never make me doubt her.

No, I'm sure she must be gazing
tenderly at my photo.

I'll bet she's looking at her naked body
in a mirror.

You're crazy.

I'm sure of it.
In every novel written by a woman,

the heroine looks at herself
naked in a mirror.

Gilberte is not a writer.
I don't see any relation.

(TELEPHONE RINGING)

Sexual relation. Well, I better answer.

I'm sure it's Gilberte. Tell her
I'm out of the bath and on my way.

Hello?

JULIE: Hello?
Am I speaking to Mr. Bliss?

Mr. Bliss is in, but...

(DIAL TONE BUZZING)

Hello? Hello?

-Well...
-I'm coming.

It wasn't Gilberte, but another woman.
She hung up, though.

-A wrong number?
-No. She asked for you, then hung up.

-Odd.
-Yes, it is odd.

I'll bet that must be my secret admirer.

There's a mysterious lady
who admires me in secret.

A beautiful woman came by yesterday
and tried to enter my apartment.

She even tried to bribe Charlie
with a hundred-franc note.

He turned down 100 francs?
I'd have let her in for half as much.

No, it must be a poor pregnant girl
wanting an explanation.

-Impossible. She never saw me.
-How do you know?

Charlie gave her
a completely false description of me.

She fell for it and said it was definitely me.

He said you were handsome
and distinguished?

Laugh all you want,
but he says she was stunning.

Know what she wore?
An evening gown at 10 a.m.

-Let's go.
-Yeah, let's go.

Your unknown lady is probably
a hotel thief, that's all.

Did you ever see a hotel thief
wearing an evening gown?

If I can meet her, I might just celebrate
the end of my bachelorhood with her.

-See, that's what I mean...
-That must be Gilberte.

(TELEPHONE RINGING)

-Too late. Hung up.
-Must be your mysterious woman again.

If it is, she wants something,
and she wants it bad.

(CLASSICAL MANDOLIN MUSIC PLAYING)

And the best man?
Can't the best man kiss the bride?

I'll borrow my daughter,
with your permission.

Do you see what I see by the door, Bliss?

-Well, introduce me.
-But I don't know her.

She must've come
with Fred and his friends.

-I'll check it out, then.
-Okay.

-Hello.
-Hello.

You don't recognize me?

No. Yes, yes, sure.
Excuse me, please. How are you?

If you recognize me, why do you never
say hello to me on the street?

Excuse me.

Fred doesn't know her. Nobody does.

-She keeps looking at you.
-I have a secret admirer, too.

My move.

-You happy?
-Of course.

-It doesn't show.
-Of course, I'm happy.

-Mama is very happy.
-Then we're all happy.

You don't look happy.

May I present the real
master of the house, my friend Bliss?

I can't make proper introductions,
since Mrs... Or perhaps Miss...

-Hello.
-Hello.

She won't say her name.
She's an apparition.

Whatever her name, she's welcome here.
How do you do, apparition?

I suppose an apparition doesn't eat,
smoke, or drink.

May I have some water?

-Water?
-Cold water, please. Wait!

I think it would taste better
if you got it for me.

That puts me one up on you, my friend.

-I wanted to be alone with you.
-Oh. That puts me one up on him.

It's warm here. Take me to the balcony.

-Do we know each other?
-Perhaps.

-Where did we meet, then?
-Think about it.

Thank you.

-May I have another one?
-Of course.

Won't you tell me your name
now that we're alone?

-My name? No.
-Oh, there goes your scarf.

You'll permit me to buy
you another one, won't you?

Well, you see, this one was a souvenir.
I can't lose it. It means a lot to me.

You know, you are...
I find you fascinating. You intrigue me.

My fiancée is lovely...
Tell me just one thing.

-Did you phone me twice this morning?
-I don't know. Get my scarf.

Get my scarf, and I will answer.

I'm Julie Kohler!

(SCREAMING)

(GASPS)

Ma'am. You want Mr. Coral?

No, I just came to see a friend.
But she's not in.

I was trying to leave,
but with all these corridors,

I guess I lost my way.
Then I saw this open door.

I've always believed
you can understand people

just by examining the rooms
in which they live.

True.

-I don't know Mr...
-Mr. Coral.

Mr. Coral, sure. But see?

I already know that he's a messy person.

-And I'm sure he isn't rich.
-You're right about that.

He's always at least three months
behind on his rent.

He's also a man who won't face reality,
but takes refuge in dreams.

That's right.

What he's looking for is an ideal woman,

impossible to find and
who exists only in his imagination.

You're right. I've noticed that whenever
the poor man looks at a woman,

he gets white as a sheet
or red as a lobster.

You see? A simple room like this
can tell you a lot.

-You're right about that.
-Don't let me keep you from your work.

Good-bye.

-Mr. Coral, what about your letter?
-I don't think it's for me.

Yes, it is. It's for you.

That's right, it's for me.
Mr. Coral, that's me.

(HUMMING)

''Municipal theater.''

''Fontanarosa concert.'' Very strange.

Unbelievable.

(HUMMING)

(WHISTLING)

(EXCLAIMS)

(WHISTLING)

-I have a ticket. Is it good for tonight?
-Of course, sir.

The performance just began three
minutes ago. You're in box eight.

Thanks.

-Your ticket, please.
-Here.

Thank you.

This way, please.

(CELLO PLAYING)

(PIANO PLAYING)

(AUDIENCE APPLAUDING)

-You owe me an explanation.
-Do I?

To begin with, how do you know me?

-You're much too curious.
-My name is Coral, Robert Coral.

-You did send me the ticket, didn't you?
-Yes, Robert Coral.

If it were all a mistake,
would you be disappointed?

Yes. Well, no. At least we met.

I'm happy even if it wasn't meant for me.

But if you were to tell me you won't
see me again, I would feel lost.

You're not sorry you came, then?

-You're glad?
-More than glad. I'm overwhelmed.

-But I can't help thinking...
-Yes, I know.

It's difficult to keep from thinking.

You'll tell me nothing?

-It's my secret.
-Your name at least.

-I'll tell you later.
-When?

-The next time we meet.
-When?

I don't know yet. Next week, perhaps.

-Why couldn't it be tomorrow?
-Tomorrow.

Wonderful! Where?

-Where, indeed? At your place?
-My place?

-But I'd never have dared propose it.
-Well, dare.

-Would you come tomorrow to my place?
-Gladly.

-You'll tell me everything?
-Yes, I'll tell you

when, where, why, and how.

Good-bye for now.

-I'll take you home first.
-No, you must go.

Wait for me tomorrow night at 9:00.

I don't know what to say. I'm just...

-Then don't say anything. Good-bye.
-Good-bye.

(HUMMING)

(SINGING)
And you did nothing to try to be pleasing

That's not true. She did try to be pleasing.

(INAUDIBLE)

The curtains... There.

(EXCLAIMS)

The mountain.

(EXCLAIMS)

The mountain.

Under the bed.

(KNOCK AT DOOR)

Yes, yes. Just a second. There.

The rent notice. I guess you didn't see it.

Oh, just get out!

(SIGHS)

(KNOCK AT DOOR)

Yes?

You know, I was beginning to think
you wouldn't come at all.

You're sweet,

but you know, I was sure
you would say something stupid.

You're rather hard on me.
But I don't mind much.

Which do you prefer, whiskey or gin?
I warn you, the gin isn't too good.

No, wait. I've brought something
very special for the two of us.

-Arak?
-It's from the end of the world.

-Do you know it?
-What? The end of the world?

-Of course not. Arak.
-No.

Give it to me. Thanks.

-Do you like mandolin?
-Sure I do. Why?

Because I brought a record I really love.
I want to listen to it with you.

Sure. The record player's there.
Put your record on.

I'll open this bottle.

-I don't know how to work it.
-Just a minute. I'll get it going.

-Permit me to make an impossible wish.
-Why impossible?

Because I'm rather a pessimist.

I've heard it said, ''There are no
optimists or pessimists.

''There are only happy idiots
or unhappy ones.''

Yes, well, I'm an unhappy idiot then.
You cheered me up, though,

so here's to you and me.
The two of us, together.

-Can we have some music?
-Of course.

(CLASSICAL MANDOLIN MUSIC PLAYING)

That's very nice. I don't believe I know it.

Look, it's empty. You know what they say?

''I empty my glass when it's full.
I fill it up when it's empty.''

You remember the secret?
You were to tell me it tonight.

-I want to know your deepest thoughts.
-No, my thoughts are mine.

You will know the secret.
But it's a bit too early.

-Aren't you happy here with me?
-Yes, I am, yes! You are magic.

You made me drink a love potion.

Look. I've made this so I would
remember something, but what?

-I feel like dancing.
-Good. Let's dance.

No, by myself. I'll dance for you.

Listen here. It's the allegretto.

You're beautiful. Too beautiful.

-Why too beautiful?
-Too beautiful for me.

Don't be foolish.

Don't put yourself down.
In life, always reach for the best.

-You must always play to win.
-You're right.

I won't put a hand on you.
You're my fairy princess.

My impossible dream.

I won't put a hand on you,
but I wish you would ask me to touch you.

That way I'd know deep down
I could have done it, if I'd wanted to.

You're here with me. It's wonderful.

Till now, I've had little to do with women.
I've been a very lonely soul.

I'll confess something
that I can't tell to a man.

I could count on the fingers of one hand...
No, let's say of both hands,

the women I've had.

And now my impossible dream,

-to make you happy.
-You've almost done it.

-This isn't the first time we've met.
-I know. We met last night.

No, that wasn't the first time either.

Listen to me. Stay a while longer.
We know each other. You saw me once.

Several years ago.

But I wasn't wearing black, then.
I was wearing white.

(WEDDING MARCH PLAYING)

(GUNSHOT)

Yes, now I recognize you. You're the bride.

Listen, it wasn't our fault.
I can't see very well.

-Is the light flickering?
-No. The light isn't flickering. It's you.

I'm being torn to shreds. Call a doctor.

It's no use. He'd get here too late.
It's all over now.

Cookie!

Hello, Cookie.
Such a big ball for such a little fellow.

-How old are you?
-Almost five and a half.

Isn't that nice?

-And whose little boy are you?
-Daddy's and Mommy's boy.

-What's your daddy's name?
-Clément.

Clément? Clément Morane?

-Why, sure. Clément Morane.
-You've got a band-aid.

It was my teacher who put it on
when I fell down in the yard.

-Do you want to play a little game?
-What kind?

You put everything you have in your
pockets in my hand.

There.

A coin...

Two coins, and a stick of chalk.

Good. Now close your eyes,

and without peeking,
tell me what I have in my hand.

A marble, a car, a picture,

a whistle, chalk.

A coin.

-My grandma gave it to me.
-That's pretty good!

Tell me, does your grandma
live here with you?

Don't you know that grandmas
live someplace else?

-My grandma lives in Andeville.
-Would you like to go to see her?

-You mean, now?
-Here. Would you like a candy?

Cookie, come here.

(CLASSICAL MANDOLIN MUSIC PLAYING)

TELEGRAM
MOTHER VERY ILL

(DOORBELL RINGING)

What are you crying for?
Get a grip.

Your mother's no spring chicken.
You knew it would happen sooner or later.

You might be a little more sympathetic.
A poor sick lady,

alone in that big house, at her age.

She's not alone. She has TV.

And the world could still
function without a woman that old.

I'm worried about how
the two of you will make out.

-Lucienne will cook the dinner.
-But Tuesday is her day off.

Your mother would choose
Tuesday to get sick.

Do you think you can get along
without me then?

Does a man need a Ph.D.
to wipe a kid's nose?

-You're not hungry, are you?
-Yes, I am hungry.

Now, where's that package of soup?

(EXCLAIMS)

''Gives you soup, thick and velvety,
like mother used to make.''

Cookie, how are things in school?

-Everything's fine, Daddy.
-That's surprising.

-Who'll get the star this month?
-I think Jose Macias.

-The Spanish boy?
-I asked him. He doesn't speak Spanish.

The boy may not speak it,
but his father does.

Try to get the star back next month.

You see, life is like a big race. Someone
has to win, and someone has to lose.

Bertrand is the loser. He's my friend.

Next month, you better...

(DOORBELL RINGING)

I'll get it.

Hello, Cookie. Good evening, sir.

-Mr. Morane, I suppose?
-Yes.

-My wife isn't in.
-I know that. I'm Miss Becker.

-Your son, Cookie, is in my class.
-Yes, Miss Becker. That's right.

Mrs. Morane didn't really ask me
to come by, but she sounded worried

about leaving you alone with the boy.
I could cook you something

-and then put Cookie to bed.
-That's really nice of you.

But I can take care of things.
I even started making soup.

You've made enough to last a week.
Let me do it. I think I'll do better.

Well, if you insist.

Cookie, you haven't said
good evening to Miss Becker.

-It's not Miss Becker.
-Cookie, don't make me angry.

-She's not my teacher.
-Would you like this?

No, don't. He isn't used to seeing
me outside of school.

-What's this?
-My whistle.

I took it away from you today.
You were so noisy. I'll give it back.

-And this, who put on this Band-Aid?
-Miss Becker.

You mean it was me.

You don't look like her.

I know what the problem is.
It's the glasses.

I wear glasses in school. There.

-Well, is this better?
-No. You are not her.

-Where's my candy?
-I ate it up!

-I'll give you a hand.
-No, please don't bother.

-But I have to show you where things are.
-No, I'll find them.

Go read your newspaper.

Cookie?

Do you know where Daddy's slippers are?
Go and get them.

-All right, finish your yogurt.
-I don't like yogurt.

You say you don't like it,
but maybe it doesn't like you.

-Yes, it does.
-You have the patience of a saint.

I'll give you some sugar.

I'm puzzled over something.
May I ask a question?

Tell me on exactly what basis
you award the star.

-What's the criterion?
-Well, you know...

I don't mind if that boy, Jose Macias,
got it. I just wanted to know.

You know, it's all based...
It's based on the grades.

But I was told there are no grades
in kindergarten.

Well, they aren't official.

Cookie, how about it? It's bedtime.
Put on your pajamas.

You know, the star, I never got one, but...

It didn't stop me from succeeding.

I spent more time
under the teacher's desk than in my seat.

Can a woman keep a secret?

-You must decide that.
-Yes, well, nobody knows this,

not even the boy's mother.

Yielding to pressure from my friends,
I intend to become

the party's candidate
in the next elections.

-I suppose I should wish you luck.
-I don't want to jinx it,

-but I think I have a good chance.
-Would you like coffee, Mr. Morane?

No, I prefer a light tea.
You see, the people here must wake up.

They are going to be given a choice,
and they had better choose right.

Do you know
the composition of the district?

-Politics and me, you know...
-You're not a non-voter, are you?

-Not me, not at all, but...
-Mark my words.

If you don't attend to politics,
politics will attend to you.

Personally, I've given up everything
for politics. Even hunting.

It's no great sacrifice.
So many fools go hunting these days.

Let me tell you, politics is not child's play.

To run a modern campaign
like we're planning,

you need money, lots of it,
and we've got it.

Of course, people always ask,
''Where does it come from?

''Who pays for the posters,
hand bills and so forth?''

But we can't tell them.
They wouldn't understand.

I know, the voters should be
completely informed.

But that's just not possible.

They don't really know
what's good for them.

This evening, you were good for us.

I really don't know how to thank you.

I have no idea how I'd have gotten
along without you.

My wife will be very grateful to you.

My activities have prevented me
from going to PTA meetings,

but I am acquainted with your Principal.

He'll never set the world on fire,
but he's a good man.

Could you find out if he's decorated?
I could see about getting a plaque for him.

It might please him,
and it would help the boy.

Come along, Cookie.
You have to go to bed.

(GROWLS)

-Let's play hide-and-seek.
-Yes.

You go hide.

And I'll count to ten. Ready? One, two,

three, four, five, six,
seven, eight, nine, 10.

Where can Cookie be? I don't see him.

But I hear him nearby.
I'm sure he's not far.

Hold on...

(EXCLAIMS)

-You're turn, now.
-Okay.

-You scared me.
-Do you mean it? I scared you?

-No, not really.
-Good.

-Start counting.
-One, two, three, four,

five, six, seven,

eight, nine, ten.

(JULIE LAUGHING)

Come on. Up you go.

(COOKIE CHATTERING)

You're too heavy for me.

-Say good night to Daddy.
-Good night, Cookie.

Good night.

MORANE: And say your prayers.

Don't let the bedbugs bite.

Let's get you tucked in.

Give me your hand
and I'll show you something.

You see, there were five little pigs,
and they all lived together.

This little piggy went to market.
This little piggy stayed home.

This little piggy had some roast beef.
This little piggy had none.

And this little piggy cried
''wee-wee-wee'' all the way home. There!

-Good night, now. Sleep well.
-Good night.

I fell asleep. I thought I was at the movies.

My wife must have arrived
at her mother's by now.

Leaving so soon?
Won't you have a liqueur?

-Sorry, I must go.
-All that counts is Cookie.

Me, I'm nothing.
You know, I may not look like a Don Juan,

-but as a general rule...
-(THUNDER RUMBLING)

...politicians make it big with women.

It's normal. They can tell themselves,

''For an hour, he completely forgot France
and gave himself to me.''

(THUNDER RUMBLING)

(RAIN FALLING)

Please, you can't leave in this weather.

-I must go.
-Wait. Take this umbrella.

Return it to my wife.
She'll want to thank you.

No, thanks.

She's a perfect mother, but she can't
seem to understand me at all.

You seem to understand me quite well.

I've lost my ring.

It must've fallen off
while we were playing.

It's a souvenir, a man's signet ring.
It's not worth much. But I do prize it.

I may have lost it upstairs.

(THUNDER RUMBLING)

I'm sure he'll wake up now.

Don't worry about him.
He'd sleep through an earthquake.

But the closet could be a good place
to look. You hid there.

(THUNDER RUMBLING)

Miss Becker, open the door, please.
It slammed shut.

I'm the one who slammed it.

All you have to do
is pull the bolt toward you.

But you haven't understood me.
I'm the one who locked you in.

Open up, Miss Becker!

(BANGING ON DOOR)

-Stop that. I'll tell you something.
-What?

-I'm not Miss Becker.
-What? Then who are you?

I'm Julie Kohler. David Kohler's widow.
I came here tonight to kill you.

Let me out of here! Listen to me!
Let me explain what happened.

I'll explain the whole thing to you.

(WEDDING MARCH PLAYING)

(INAUDIBLE)

MORANE: It was a terrible accident,
and because of it,

our careers, our futures,
could have been ruined.

Bliss, Coral, Delvaux, Fergus and I
weren't really friends.

We were a group of bachelors
in a boring, small town.

We'd get together to play cards
and kid around.

We only had two common interests:
hunting and women.

After the accident,
we all felt guilty and yet innocent.

We made a quick decision to break up
and never see each other again.

-It's all in the past.
-For you it's in the past.

But I live through it every night.

(WEDDING MARCH PLAYING)

(GUNSHOT)

JULIE: Every young girl dreams
of meeting her prince charming,

of getting engaged and married.

I never had to dream,
because David was always there.

I never looked at another boy,
and no other girl existed for him.

I waited for David.
I waited to become his wife.

(CHURCH BELLS RINGING)

(GUNSHOT)

Julie! Julie!

JULIE: They wouldn't let me die,
so I went back to the church.

The sun was no longer shining.

I stood on the steps
and turned around to look at the rooftops.

And when I went into the church,
it was not to pray, but to make a vow.

I tracked the five of you down,
one by one.

It took me a long time to find you.

(BANGING AT DOOR)

Let me out! Listen to me!

I only listen to David.

I told you what happened!
I'll do anything you ask!

(BANGING AT DOOR)

-I want David.
-I can't breathe!

I only want David.
I want to see him laugh and walk.

I want to see his eyes.

You took something from me
that you can't give me back.

(BANGING AT DOOR)

Are you there?

I know you're there. Answer me!

Let me out of here! Let me out of here!

Are you there?

What are you doing? What are you doing?

Answer me! What are you doing?

You're mad!

(BREATHING HARD)

(GRUNTING)

(COUGHING)

(BANGING CONTINUES)

(BANGING STOPS)

(SIREN WAILING)

Hello, Cookie.

Come with me. Let's talk.

Cookie, let's see. You said you played
hide-and-seek with your dad and a lady.

-What was the lady like?
-She was funny.

-She played a game with us.
-Did your father hide under the stairway?

-We each took our turn.
-Who did?

The lady and me.

-What lady?
-The one who was here.

I know, but who was that lady?
Who was she?

I told you.
She's the lady who played with us.

When you played this game after dinner,

-who was the first to hide?
-Me.

-And then?
-The lady.

-And then?
-My dad.

You, the lady, your dad.

You're angry with her?

-What?
-You're angry with Miss Becker?

-What did you say?
-You're angry with Miss Becker?

-Who is Miss Becker?
-The lady.

-The one from last night? That's her name?
-Yes.

Very good. That's very good, Cookie.

-Miss Becker, please.
-Yes? That's me.

I'm Detective Kling.
Would you come along to the Moranes?

-Right now?
-If you would.

Don't worry about it.
I will see to the children.

Thank you. All right.

The poor little boy.
We were just talking about him.

I guess they'll ask me
to take care of Cookie.

They want to ask you
a few simple questions.

-I have to tell the Principal.
-She's been told.

Don't try to influence him.
Well, Cookie. Is this she?

Was I the lady, Cookie?

Cookie, was Miss Becker here
when you played hide-and-seek?

Yes, Miss Becker was here.
And Miss Becker ate with Daddy and me.

Cookie!

TEACHER ACCUSED OF MURDER
Did Miss Becker kill Clément Morane?

ANNOUNCER ON PA: Passengers for
flight 813, destination Essington,

please come to Gate B
for immediate boarding.

Excuse me, I forgot something.
I must make a phone call.

You have two minutes. Please, hurry.

Hello, police? Now listen.

Let that teacher go.
She didn't murder Morane.

I'm talking, not you.
The teacher is innocent.

You can believe me because
I'm the murderer. You want proof?

I'll give it to you. The fake telegram
received by Mrs. Morane said,

''Mother very ill. Come right away.''

Cookie's room is upstairs.

And there's a racing train
on the lamp shade by his bed.

Well, is that enough?

And now, let that teacher go. Good-bye.

(ALL CHEERING)

PRIEST: You think you're getting revenge,
but you're wrong.

Revenge is impossible.
It would be endless.

There are too many wrongs to avenge,
too many crimes, too much ignorance.

Too many evil thoughts, too.

You must renounce this sinister
mission you've taken on yourself.

It's not a mission.
It's work and it must be done.

-Give it up.
-Impossible. I must continue to the end.

I see no remorse in your eyes.

-Don't you fear for your soul?
-No remorse, no fear.

But you know you'll be caught in the end.

The justice of men is powerless.
It can't punish me.

I'm already dead.
I died the same day David did.

I'll join him after I've had my revenge.

How can you believe
hate and murder will lead to love?

You have no answer.

Not a word.

-I beg you to stop!
-No, you can't sway me.

-What were you seeking here?
-The strength to continue.

-You gave it to me, in spite of yourself.
-Wait!

MAN: I was sure of it, Boss. I know cops.

You fool them two or three times,
then, bang! They nab you.

I warned you,
that paint job on the car was bad.

And he did it on purpose, if you ask me.

I tossed the plates into a septic tank.

No one will find them. I'd hate to be
the guy they send down there.

The cops can't prove a thing
without the plates.

The loot. This is yours, and this is mine.

If they show up here, I don't know a thing.

You said good-bye and left.
I know nothing, etc.

(BELL RINGING)

Customers. I'll get rid of them.

For you, Boss. A woman.
She insists on seeing you.

I don't know her. Looks like a tramp.

I'll tell her you're gone,
but she looks stubborn.

Sorry, but Mr. Delvaux is leaving on a trip
and can't see you now.

But if you want me to,
I'll give him a message.

That's no good.

I have to see him and that's it.
I have time, so I'll just wait here.

Tell him that I'm staying till he sees me.

Mr. Delvaux. Are you Mr. Delvaux?

Police. Come with us.
We have questions to ask you.

Move along.

-Is he the one who sold it to you?
-He's the one!

I'll show you yet! You dirty thief!

-Not that way.
-Look where this got you, now!

I'll show you, you louse!
You stinking louse!

You won't get away with it! Dirty rat!

(SIREN WAILING)

Driver, 13 Nemesis Avenue.

Well... I asked for a tall, stacked redhead.

Good Lord! I was looking
all over for you last year.

-Last year?
-Yes.

You're the image of the woman I needed
for my exhibition.

Exactly right for it.

You're a bit late, though. Once again,
that stupid woman got it all wrong.

-Yes, just right for it. I'm sorry.
-So am I.

I was thrilled to get to model
for the great Fergus.

And besides, I could use the money.

-Maybe another time.
-Maybe.

-Well, I'll be seeing you.
-Wait.

Just a second. I may have an idea.

Come on in. Where is that thing?

Oh, here it is.

They've asked me to illustrate a book.
I didn't say no, I didn't say yes.

But now that I see you...

The theme is Diana the Huntress.
It's by Klossowski.

The publisher sent me
all these accessories.

Look at this.
They got her mixed up with Tarzan.

Well, all right, it's not complicated.

The costume will be white and short.

You can get it done.
Bring it with you next time.

That way we can start working. All right?

-Have it made at Bertrand's.
-At Bertrand's?

Bertrand, the costume maker.
Just tell him it's for me

and that I'm in a hurry.

Mr. Fergus, I lied to you.
I'm not from the agency.

(DOORBELL RINGING)

I was in the agency waiting room
when they told this girl to come here,

so I hurried up to get here first.

How do you do, sir? The agency sent me.

-The agency? What agency?
-I can't believe it!

I'm sorry. This happened before.

That woman always gets it wrong.
I don't need you. Wait.

-This is for your trouble.
-Oh, no.

-Take it.
-Thanks.

I think I've seen you somewhere.
At the Balto, often with Massoulier.

-That's right. I've noticed you, too.
-Have you?

What do you say we get together
some evening? But not at the Balto.

-I'd love that, Mr. Fergus. Good-bye.
-Good-bye.

There you are.

Now you know I'm a skirt-chaser.
But don't worry, you're in no danger.

Not my type.

Good Lord! I was so busy with the front,
I forgot about the rear.

That's 36, 23 and 37.

At my best, I can tell a woman's
measurements within an inch.

Well, let's get to work.

I'm attracted to that redhead
because she's so vulgar.

I demand lots of vulgarity in my women.
It's part of life.

She didn't get the job,
but she got on my list.

I simply must tell you
about this recurring nightmare I have.

It's morning. I'm in the street. I'm dressed.

There are only women...
No, there are no women, only men.

So I walk along... Only men.

Not a single woman.
And then I wake up in a cold sweat.

But everything's fine,
because it was only a dream.

You know, sometimes I walk around the
neighborhood in the evening

and look the girls over in the cafés

the way that some nuns do
while collecting alms.

''I've collected from that one.
That one, not yet.

''I'll have to try her.''

Your nose is remarkable.
So is your mouth.

If I were a writer, I'd write a novel about it.

Every place is the same,
the subway, the train, the bus.

I get on, and immediately I look around
to find women I could pick up.

And when I find one,
there's a feeling of relief.

And if there's more than one,
I check them all out and grade them.

I don't make a pass
or even give them the eye.

But I know they're there.

And if something happens,
say an accident...

Suppose a subway train
got stuck all night between stations.

Yeah, well, anything might happen.

-Does this shock you?
-No. I'm very interested. Go on.

Anyway, even if I do shock you,
you mustn't move.

I prefer to talk when I work.

I often get out and wait on the platform
for the next train

just because there is
no interesting girl in mine.

If I stay, I feel I'm being stifled.
I suffocate.

And you can't imagine how much
I hate contact with men.

If a man sits down beside me,
I move to another seat.

There. Now let's try another position.

Let's see. Your right leg...

No, not crossed.

Next to the other... Good. Your hands...

Fine. Try to hold it.

Still, I must say, if I see
too many beauties in one place

or in one day, I get depressed.

You see, I think of those I will miss.
I get dizzy.

Sometimes, I see a beautiful girl
walking in the street in front of me,

and my heart beats faster.
I hurry to catch up with her.

I look at her, and she's hideous.

Then, believe it or not, I'm relieved.
I find it reassuring.

Unbelievable.

I've got something to show you.
You can relax. We're done for today.

Look at the date.
And I'd never seen you in my life.

In theory, no.

This proves what Oscar Wilde said,
that nature imitates art.

-Good-bye. See you tomorrow.
-Tomorrow.

(DOORBELL RINGING)

-Hello.
-Hello.

-Who's she?
-You must have passed her.

Oh, her. I just saw her downstairs.
I only saw her back.

I noticed her legs. Not great, but nice.

-Her dress was white.
-Yes, that's her.

-What's her name?
-Funny, I forgot to ask her.

Where do we eat?
At Titine's or the customs house?

At Titine's.

-This is Massoulier's treat. He won his bet.
-What bet?

He succeeded in making the stewardess
on the Montreal-Paris flight.

-He won 200 francs.
-It's worth it.

Hey, Corey, what is it?

I'm just sort of thinking.
I know I've seen her.

As soon as I find a new girl,
either you know her,

or you have a friend who does.

No, this time it's like having a name
on the tip of your tongue.

-Has she posed for Massoulier?
-Frankly, I don't think she's a real model.

-She gets tired too fast.
-I'm sure that I've seen her.

She's not from around here.
I'd have noticed her.

-Why? Did you...
-No.

-No, she's different.
-I don't like that word.

When you say she's different,
don't forget what the Italians say.

''All women are prostitutes,
except my mother. She's a saint.''

Besides, when you've seen one...

(DOORBELL RINGING)

-It's you. Good morning.
-Good morning.

Come in. Do you have the costume?

-Right here.
-Great. You can change in the bathroom.

You'll never guess what those are.

They're falsies.

Manufactured by a customer of mine,
an American businessman.

He overestimated his sales
and got stuck with 8,000 pairs,

so he sells them by the yard.
Amusing, don't you think?

By the way, you didn't tell me your
name yesterday. What's your name?

I don't dare tell you.
It's such a ridiculous name.

-It doesn't matter. Let's hear it.
-My name is Alphonsine.

Alphonsine.

That's a beautiful name. I like it.
I like peasant names.

Ernestine, Julie, Charlotte.

A lovely name, Alphonsine.

-And Alphonsine what?
-Just call me Diana. Diana, that's all.

That's not bad.

-May I have your ring?
-Yes.

I'll give it back after, if you're good.
But you need a bracelet.

It's not a piece of brass junk.
It's something Calder made.

Yes, on the right.

The girl is fine, the costume is fine,
but from here...

You look more like a tennis player
than Diana the Huntress.

We'll have to concentrate on details.

Let's take each detail on its own.

Position of the feet, position of the legs.

And the hand taking an arrow from
the quiver. Don't move your body.

You must be tired.
Now you may rest a bit.

-Like something to drink?
-I would.

-Cool or hot?
-Hot.

-Do you want tea or coffee?
-Tea. Let me make it, please.

-No, you take a rest.
-No, stay here. I'll do it.

I'd rather move around.

-What happened in your kitchen?
-What?

-I mean, what caused this hole?
-That?

That's a bullet hole.
A cop committed suicide in the courtyard.

-A cop?
-Yes, a cop. Funny, isn't it?

He shot himself in the head.
Do you know why? Despair over love.

The whole thing was beyond me.

After all, who ever thinks of a cop
being in love?

What are you doing tonight?

-Nothing special.
-Then let's have dinner together.

-Absolutely not.
-Why not?

Because I came to pose.
When we're done, I leave.

Then we're done.

-We're going to stop?
-I'm fed up.

Knocked out. We'll go on tomorrow.

-Three o'clock tomorrow?
-All right.

Will you give me back the ring, please?

You must have a telephone.
Give me your number.

That's impossible. My ring.

I'll hold on to it.
This way, I know you'll come back.

All right. So long.

(RINGING)

-COREY: Fergus, how are you?
-Hi.

Where have you been lately?
What's happening?

-Nothing special. A little depressed.
-The gang's at the Balto.

-We'll cheer you up.
-No, I'd rather stay home.

-I'll bet it's that girl. Nothing doing?
-Yes, yes. It's all right.

I even spend my nights with her.

(SCREAMS)

-Are you all right? It's nothing.
-How could it happen?

-I don't understand.
-It's all right, I tell you.

It wasn't your fault.

It was lucky I broke my charcoal.

You're trembling. You're cold. Wait.
I've got an idea.

(GLASSES CLINKING)

Both of us are alive. Let's drink to that.

When I was a boy, my father would say,

''Champagne is to adults
as milk is to kids.''

(EXCLAIMS)

Do you know why the Chinese never use
this little finger?

Because it's mine.

Good champagne?

Feel better?

You got a shock. We'll finish tomorrow.

I'll take you to the movies, then we'll have
dinner on that boat-restaurant.

We're almost done. Let's get it over with.

Then will you promise...

Whatever you want,
but we must finish right away.

-Are you all right? You sure?
-Yes.

Fine, let's go.

Very good. Now, a little more toward me.
A little more.

That's it.

(PEOPLE CLAMORING)

Damn it, damn it!
It's the weekly stampede.

They're like a cyclone! We'll have to stop.

I'm going to change.
I don't want to meet them.

Wait! Don't turn around, please.

I have something to tell you,

but look away or I'd never be able to.

There are words and expressions that
everyone uses. They're in all the books.

Phrases I thought I'd never use.
I thought I was above all that.

Now, I'm in love with you.

-Don't run away! Do you love me?
-Leave me alone!

It's not love I'm looking for.

(ALL CHATTERING)

-Do you know her?
-No. Never saw her.

I'm sure that I've seen that face
somewhere before.

I just can't remember where.

Fergus, well, have you got it made?

Shut up, will you? She's in there.

MAN 1: Where?
MAN 2: In the bathroom.

(PEOPLE CHATTERING)

MAN 3: Diana the Huntress.
She's a virgin, then.

I've seen her.

Daniel's making his usual play.

That's a lot of hypocrisy.

Artists, they say, are immoral.
They sleep together and all that.

Yeah, why does everyone
pick on us artists? You take any field.

Civil service, banks, factories.
Take the subway, for instance.

(CHATTERING)

Hey, Daniel, are you reciting Saint-Simon?

I think we know each other.
My name's Corey. And you?

-Diana.
-Diana what?

-That's all.
-Where have I seen you?

You looked at me as if you knew me also.

Some people don't make
much of an impression.

You did.

I'm imagining you with different hair.

Grandmorin is inviting us all to dinner.
He wants you.

-Okay.
-No, you go and speak to him now.

We'll be leaving right away.

I guess we'd better go.

All right?

-You'd like to finish tonight?
-Yes.

Me too. I suggest we go along
with them to the restaurant,

and there you say you've
got to phone while I go out the back door.

-We meet here in 20 minutes, all right?
-Yes.

Dear Lord!

(RINGING)

(BELL BUZZING)

COREY: For three days,
I've been trying to think where I met her.

And then, in the middle of the night,
wham! At Bliss's place.

The night that he got engaged,
when he fell off the terrace.

She was there alone.
No one saw her come, no one saw her go.

No one knew her name. Nothing.

(INAUDIBLE)

OFFICER: Recognize him?

JULIE: Yes, it's him.
I pushed him off the terrace.

COREY: Yes, that's Bliss.
The three of us were together.

To be alone with him, she sent me for
a glass of water, and then...

I never saw him.
I had only met Bliss and Fergus.

Robert Coral.
I came to his hotel and poisoned him.

-Recognize this one?
-I don't.

-He was pushed off a train in the night.
-We don't know who he is.

I tell you, I don't know the man.

That's Morane. He suffocated in
a hall closet. I admit I shut him in.

Sir?

This is the last victim, your friend, Fergus.

Now, please,
tell us why you killed these men.

I remember something.

You didn't know Bliss.
Because at the party you took me for him.

And you didn't know Fergus either. Well?

You'll never know.

They must have something in common.

Or else.

You'll be examined by a group
of psychiatrists tomorrow, but...

I wonder if the list was closed.

He might have been the next.

I don't like him,
because he's the sort of man

who's always pawing girls,
but I wouldn't kill him.

What did you have against
Bliss and Fergus?

And Morane and Coral?

I've nothing more to say.

Guard.

Have you chosen a lawyer?

I don't know any,
and it doesn't matter anyway.

Then we'll assign you one.
We'll continue this after you've seen him.

I hope he can work out
a better defense for you.

I've known killers get caught with
a smoking gun and refuse to confess.

But I've never seen one willingly confess
to four murders,

then not say what the motive was.

I'm stumped by the way this woman,
so intelligent, let herself be caught.

Soup's on!

Hey, you!

(DELVAUX SCREAMING)

THE END