Original subtitles

Each time I see that...

...I feel the desire to smoke a cigarette.

Just one.

Is that because of...your painting.

I know. I hate it.

Well, I don't...I don't

A PLACE AMONG THE LIVING

Ah, it rather gives me the desire to drink a good glass of red.

Each to his own hell.

Stop.

It won't do at all.

It's terrible.

Not at all, Mark, it's terrific as always.

Just what's needed for your opening.

Yes, the opening...

...without me.

Without me. I won't go.

Don't say such things. It's your big evening.

You'll be famous.

Tomorrow I'll be famous.

I'll be famous tomorrow.

I don't like it when you climb out there.

Stop! Come down. It's dangerous!

It's not funny, Mark!

I'll be famous...

Mark?

Mark, are you hiding?

Mark?

And, ah, you say that the wine bottle was unbroken?

No, it could happen to anybody.

Yes? - Is that you, Ernest? - It's my number, isn't it?

So what do you want?

Ernest, it's terrible. Mark is dead.

Ah?

He threw himself out the window.

- When? - It just happened.

How do you know? - I was here posing for him

Well, now you'd better get out. Try to avoid being noticed.

Before they start accusing you of having pushed him.

So I understand that Sabine spent the night in your studio.

I needed a model. That helps me to go further.

This time you went much too far. - Much too far.

As for me, there were days when I too was going far.

What? Again?

Ernest? - Maryse.

Well? Did you read it? - Yes, yes.

Well? - I'm not calling about that.

Yes, I realize that. So you read it?

Mark has committed suicide. - Yes, I know.

Already? - I have my contacts.

Well, have you read my manuscript, yes or no?

You might have the decency to wait until this evening.

This evening? - Yes, at the opening.

The opening? But Mark is dead.

All the better. When the painter dies the prices go sky high.

You who talk of decency. - Till this evening, Ernest.

Have you read it, yes or no, Maryse? - Yes, I read it.

Well, was it positive or negative? - Rather negative.

Till this evening.

Good evening, master.

So it's you.

You don't sound too happy about it.

Let's say that I'd rather not meet you.

I can understand that. - Well, please be kind.

Don't make me change the number yet again.

I'd soon find it out anyway.

You'll be at the opening this evening for the painter who has just died.

That's already been arranged.

That's bad news in my opinion.

We'll talk about it this evening at "The Wild Rabbit"

Useless to wait for me, I won't be there.

I'll wait for you as long as neccessary

You could have the decency to wait until this evening.

It's negative.

When the painter dies the prices go sky high.

Mark has killed himself

Maryse. I was afraid...

Don't worry about me

No. I thought you wouldn't come.

Ah!

Have you been here long? - I'm just leaving.

Will you dine with us? If you want to come with your...

You're out of date, my friend.

For some time he hasn't been my...

This is now my...

Maryse, Edouard has invited us this evening. at Madeleine's. What should I tell him?

Decide for yourself, my friend. I'm dining with Jean-Pierre.

Now I have to go because he might arrive at any minute.

We're celebrating his latest work.

He's just been translated into Spanish, you know?

Can I come?

No, out of the question, it's only for close friends...

...and they're invited by the Condorcet publishing house. - Well, can I?

You're not yet a Condorcet author.

That reminds me, how's your novel going? - Not bad. Not bad at all.

Maryse, how are you? Not bad, not bad at all.

Well, will you dine with us this evening at Georges?

It seems that Jean-Pierre is coming.

That would surprise me.

But in any case, I can't. - Thank you.

Maryse. Maryse. - Oh yes, I've finished your manuscript. It's downstairs.

So, am I right in thinking...? - You have understood perfectly.

Antoine, I have to leave.

Ah Maryse, may I present Chantal Degrand. This is Condorcet House in person.

Maryse, your next best-seller. You must read "Solitude I Love You".

Only 100 pages, you'll read it in less than an hour....

...and it's extraordinary. She's not even 20.

Pleased to meet you. Condorcet is always interested in young authors

I'm not young. I feel like I'm a hundred years old.

I feel the same way.

Nournours told me that you are a close friend of Jean-Paul Sartre.

He exaggerates.

I didn't like his last novel. I'd like to talk to him about it.

He would be delighted. Excuse me.

It's strange, this painting. Don't you think so?

Yes, you're right.

They told me that you are a writer.

I was. So I thought.

Yes, yes. You translated Barabara Lone for the "Romance" collection.

I liked your translation very much. I'm sure you changed a lot of detail.

I adapt. I try to take into account the taste of my readers.

You find words to make us dream, us old ladies.

In this world where a criminal can roam freely and murder innocent girls who are blonde and pretty.

And everyone seems to find that amusing.

It seems that it was an existentialist killer.

It's a bit like that everywhere.

According to what I heard he is called "The Stranger"

Madame, I can inform you that I have an appointment with the criminal this evening?

Ah so? - Does that surprise you? - Certainly.

Tell me that it astonishes you.

Would you ask him from me why he only attacks blondes?

In my opinion it's quite racist.

Maryse.

What more do you want? Do you want a commentary?

No, not really. - So we're in agreement. I need do no more.

In any case I have nothing to explain. Start with the title.

We're in agreement, my dear.

Agreement...agreement

Agreement...agreement

Agreement

Maryse.

Negative. Rather negative.

The shit one has to put up with.

Are you so spineless that you have to accept this kind of treatment?

What, what? Take that! That's what you'll get.

You bitch.

Each time I see that scene, I want to ask you what you're thinking. - Nothing.

Nothing at all.

Or rather, lots of things.

I tell myself I shouldn't keep this appointment with the devil

On the other hand, I can't sit here all night doing nothing.

Finally, I decided to go there.

Hoping that it was too late.

I said to myself...

...it's almost midnight, he must have gone.

But he was there.

So it's you.

I'm sorry, you see, I received your novel, but I didn't have the time...

It's not bad. Not bad at all.

You're the only one who thinks so. Nobody wants this novel.

So much the better. So much the better.

I like being the only one who appreciates your work.

But sit down, why don't you? - Thank you.

Joseph Arcimboldo. - Ernest Ripper.

As in Jack the Ripper?

Pardon me. A poor joke.

And your "Ripper"? Do you speak English?

No. They say any old thing about me in my translations

It was a poor joke.

I've read everything. I adore your style.

You read the Lee romances?

Yes master. That's my vice.

In my job one must read many romances.

It's indispensable.

There, I've learnt something new.

Before I forget.

Here, it's for you.

Count it, please.

What makes you think I will accept?

Your face.

What about my face? - It says you have no choice.

In fact, I still don't know.

Take it. An advance.

What one calls a retainer.

Very generous.

Roger! Champagne!

The same? - Yes, the same.

And if, after all, I refuse?

I already told you, I can read faces.

And yours says "I'm dying to do it...

"...but in any case I have no choice".

Except that I still don't know what it is you're asking of me.

A biography? - No,no, certainly not.

No, no, it should be able to be read...like a novel

I'll tell you everything. Everything.

And I can assure you... there's a lot.

And be accountable to you?

No. It doesn't interest me. Do it yourself.

Dear master, you're pretending not to understand.

I'm not a writer. I'm a criminal.

A crime can be something very complicated.

Very complex.

There are pleasures, of course...

One can touch, caress...destroy.

But not just anyone.

The subject should feel some sort of accomplishment.

His death should be a culmination. Thus the crime becomes a moral act.

And that's not all.

This crime must capture the imagination of the masses, it must...

...give meaning to the lives of those obscure folk...

...awaken in the crowd a kind of drunkenness.

But note well...I'm not talking about some sort of drug, no I...

I'm talking about love.

Love which strikes, wounds, kills.

And at the same time there is a higher reality.

In this sense one can say that the crime is a revolutionary act.

Here's the champagne. - Bravo! Uncork it, Roger!

And have a glass with us.

As always.

You're going to witness great things, Roger.

Because I believe that between us we are going to accomplish...

...how to put it...

...great things.

And what will they be, these great things?

Hmm! I know.

A pact with the devil.

Who is the devil? You or him?

Oh well. Sometimes one, sometimes the other. Perhaps both.

Perhaps you, Roger, mmm?

We're closing in 10 minutes

It will be as usual - I suppose.

Of course, my friend. As always.

Tell me something.

You're not afraid of the police? - The police! What a thing to say! Why should I be?

The police do their work, I do mine.

It's just that a while ago...

...we were discussing vindication of a crime. Some of them were listening.

Yes, one gets used to it.

It's not the first time, you know.

And you're not the first to whom I've made this...diabolical proposition

You were rejected, up until now? - Always. Nobody believed in it.

Even me, at the supreme moment I no longer believe in it.

So many times I've been at the point of giving up.

For each successful crime there are so many failures.

I don't mean the act itself.

When you come down to it, it's easy to kill.

If it was only that.

Ah yes...

Life isn't simple. - Nor is death.

I thought that the killer in the 18'th had only killed 3 girls.

Ah, don't be deceived. I've travelled a lot.

How many, more or less? - I never count the failures.

Let's talk of something else. Now lets have a bit of fun.

Roger knows some very special places.

I don't know if I should. A friend is waiting for me.

An intimate friend? Tell me the details. No, don't tell me anything.

I prefer to imagine it.

Tell me a bit about this friend of yours. Is she pretty?

Sabine? Yes, I believe so.

Sabine...that makes you dream

One has to dream.

Ah, my friend, I like you already.

This time I made no mistake. You're the one I've been looking for.

Where are we going? - Pigalle. Joseph adores striptease.

Not the thing itself, but the concept.

What a great metaphor. You follow me?

A little surprised. I didn't think that men like you were...

...so loquacious.

It's often like that.

At the "Rabbit" these controversies are much enjoyed by the existentialists.

Are you old friends? - Friends?

That's the right word.

No. That's not the word.

Joseph.

Joseph.

Joseph.

Don't worry about it. It happens from time to time.

Don't try and talk to him.

He's no longer there.

THE SLEEPING CAT

When I remember all that... I think to myself...

...that's the moment when I should have escaped

Joseph was sunk in one of those trances to which I later became accustomed.

Roger couldn't care less.

Did he really not care?

Perhaps not. We'll look into that...another time.

Are you alright? - Oh, I've been such a long way...

Good, champagne.

Where's Roger?

He didn't stay. He has to prepare breakfast for tomorrow.

Poor foot soldier.

Oh my god, it's not possible. It's her.

You know her?

It's her. The next.

Not this evening, no! Have mercy! - What are you talking about?

Excuse me, I have to go to the toilet.

Your friend isn't coming back

He went out the back way. But - he paid for the champagne.

Another blonde.

Get away home, you bunch of perverts!

Don't touch anything. They smell the blood.

They don't know what they're doing. Identity cards please!

You? - A waste of time.

Excuse me for being so late.

Late for her?

No. There's no "her" in this story.

I waited all night. I brought champagne.

Let's have a glass.

I drank it all.

I've got a headache.

In any case, I spent the whole evening drinking champagne.

With her?

No.

With somebody you don't know.

I was waiting the whole evening.

I'm sorry. - And the telephone.

I didn't think of it.

As usual.

Sabine? - Mmm

Have you ever thought of doing striptease?

Me?

You're crazy.

Why? Do you find that unthinkable?

No. I'm not pretty enough.

I find you very beautiful.

You, yes.

But not the others.

Then do it for me.

Ernest...

...do you want to make love? No, I'd like a striptease.

It's part of it.

Not at all. It's the complete opposite.

Good night, Ernest.

Good morning, Rachel. - Good morning, Ernest

Is Maryse there? - She's just arrived.

These people are waiting.

Er, I'm in a hurry. - I see.

Mr. Ripper is here. He's in a hurry.

What did she say? - She asks whether you have the latest edition?

Yes.

She asks you to leave it. She'll call you back.

Ah, good. - So sorry.

Doesn't matter. See you later. - See you later, Ernest.

Could we dine together some evening? - Yes, of course.

Today? -No, not today.

Not tomorrow or the day after? - So sorry.

Not next week? - I'm on holiday.

Bye. - So sorry.

Me too. See you soon.

Ernest?

Maryse.

You're very busy. - Very, but...

...you must excuse me for the other evening. I was a bit...brutal.

That's putting it mildly. - Please forgive me.

There. That's all.

See you soon?

I was forgetting...

...you dropped these the other night.

My god, it's her! - Who?

You know they found another murdered girl. A stripper. - And so?

Yesterday, before going to the opening, I was being followed by a guy.

He dropped a newspaper, I picked it up, and my photograph was inside.

How about we have dinner together one evening? - Of course.

Today, not possible, tomorrow neither, next week, vacation?

We no longer have much to talk about. - I know.

Good day, Alexis. - Good day.

How's your novel going? - Going forward. And yours?

Going backward. From waste basket to waste basket.

I must read it. I adore waste basket literature.

Have a rummage through Maryse's.

You're being wicked. Maryse likes you a lot.

So for you everything is OK? - Nothing is ever perfect.

Let me know when I can read it. - It would be a great honour.

Is Maryse there in a star role? - Oh no, I don't like roman � clef.

I adore the roman � clef

So I've heard. That's probably why you end up in the waste basket.

At least mine has the merit of existing. - Is that a merit?

You're asking for a thrashing. - You too, my friend.

Let's go. We're going to be late. See you later, Ernest.

News! The killer of the 18'th strikes again!

Here in "The Independent! The killer strikes again!

Yes sir. Here you are.

Wait, here's your change.

Thank you, sir.

Sabine?

Sabine?

She left the door open. Stupid girl.

"I'm at Mother's. Kisses."

Bitch!

Dirty whore!

I suppose the door was open.

That proves that you are an honest man.

May I? - Make yourself at home.

You have a great collection of lenses.

I adore these instruments

How did it go? - Not very well.

It was...excessive. Without nuance.

You see? I'm not the writer you need.

On the contrary.

It's rather good.

"Child of the mediaeval New York night"

That's what I am.

Did I tell you that in my family there were many famous criminals? - Not yet.

Mediaeval.

That's me to a "T"

Gilles de Rais...Damian...

And many others.

Leave that. I accord no special importance to that genealogical table

Except for one point.

Every crime has its own genealogy, I'm convinced of that.

Tell me about your latest.

You wouldn't rather begin at the beginning? - My childhood and all that?

Tell me about last night.

Since you insist.

Each time I feel the thing, I try and escape it.

Except when I recognize the face.

"The face" is always that of my first victim.

Down there...in Provence

She wasn't yet 16 years old.

She was expecting a child by me.

She told me:

"You can't escape me, darling, You can run to the ends of the earth...

"...but I'll be there, waiting."

When the victim is detestable it becomes more difficult...

It can convert the crime into an act of justice.

A moral act.

My father used to say:

"Useful and pleasant actions belong together...

"...but the useful need not be pleasant...

"...and the pleasant need not be useful"

Good. And then?

Then...nothing. A routine.

The type of girl who thinks she knows everything.

I know you like certain caresses. And I know how to do them.

You'll certainly want to come home with me.

Or rather, not to my place.

Rather, this is how things are:

We'll rent an appartment for four. It's not far. I know you're in a hurry.

I'm called Vedrinne, but I know you hate that name.

Me too, actually.

I don't know why I told you that.

(There it is, the moment of truth.)

Why are you looking at me like that?

You don't seem to like me anymore -Yes, on the contrary, I do.

It's now that you begin to attract me.

Do you want to make love here?

No way.

I know I'll never do that!

(That was the last thing she thought she knew.)

Sorry to interrupt.

I need more details. What did she do?

How do you mean?

The position.

I suppose she was on top? - Exact.

And then what happened?

Exactly.

Let's suppose that I am Vedrinne.

O.K.

Take this position.

Yes. More. And more.

Still more.

More relaxed.

No, no, no.

Let's start again.

Yes.

Like that.

Like that

More relaxed.

No, no, that's too much.

Not like that!

Like that. Yes.

Not like that, I told you.

You're an idiot.

Like this.

Pay attention, you bastard. - I'm doing my best.

Thank you.

A thousand thanks, but... we're wasting our time.

We would need...a staircase, a timer

Ernest, that's enough!

Ah...I almost forgot.

That's for you.

You are...Sabine?

Yes?

Do we know each other?

No...but I'd like to know you.

What a lot of dough.

Why?

Are you OK? - Now I want a striptease.

Ernest...what's the matter?

You refuse? - Of course I refuse!

Alright.

It's very good.

But I don't much care for the chauffeur, "The Wild Rabbit" the cabaret, the striptease...

...it's too Series Noir.

We try and distinguish ourselves from Gallimard.

Our readers are different.

But never mind that.

I love the beginning "I am a child of..."

What was it again? - "...of the mediaeval night"

Quite extraordinary.

On the other hand, the references to Charles Mingus. - Ah, Charles Mingus.

Yes, I know.

The American novel is a la mode... but in this case it is redundant.

Just a detail.

Sugar? - No, no thanks.

I like the idea of your assassin having a genealogical tree which consists...

...solely of assassins. Excellent!

Except for Gilles de Rais, a bit over the top. - However that part was all true.

Excuse me?

What do you mean by "true"?

For the moment we're talking about fiction.

It's not a roman � clef, I hope. That's against editorial policy.

Ah, no of course, it's... fiction, pure and simple.

It's not important whether it's true or not. - Yes, you're quite right.

Maryse is well? Oh, of course, you're no longer together, I forgot.

Did you know that Jean-Paul is leaving her? He wants to come here, with us.

Good. I'm very happy.

It'll be a great success, I'm sure of it.

But..don't forget what we agreed.

No "Wild Rabbit", no Gilles de Rais, no inaugaration, no old woman.

And above all, no consenting victims. But these are just details, right?

Sit down.

I'm not happy. Not happy at all.

Sorry to hear it. - You too.

You only talk about my ancestors.

Gilles de Rais, nowhere.

And the stripteasers, the staircase, the timer, the girl who knew it all?

No...

There's no blood... if I can put it that way.

You have to redo it, you have to...

No, what's missing is the living experience. - You're right there.

But I need the details. - That's true.

It's true, but when one is doing it, one doesn't think of the details.

Would it trouble you to accompany me?

Not right to the end, naturally.

And why not, right to the end? - Because you have these urges.

Know what I mean?

You're a bit like me.

I made no mistake in choosing you.

No. You'll come with me.

How about this evening?

No. Wait. I can't this evening. I have a dentist appointment.

In the evening? - Yes, he only works nights.

A twin soul.

But tomorrow? No, no.

Tomorrow I have a dinner date.

Friday? Would Friday suit? - Very well.

And now...I must leave you.

Before the dentist I have a meeting with my lawyer.

Also a night bird.

Your friend has departed?

Yes, I'm dining alone. I'll have an artichoke, please.

Wine? - No, I'll finish the champagne.

Your friend forgot to pay for the champagne. - That's not a problem.

But why do you say "your friend"? He's rather yours, isn't he?

Not exactly.

Isn't he a "regular"?

Quite often. He told me that you were very close...

...and that you both enjoyed making jokes.

That's true, no?

Where is this leading?

He told me: "Tomorrow a friend is coming, one I've known since my schooldays.

"He believes I'm leading a monastic life. Which is true in a way.

"Then we'll play a trick on him. We'll pretend to be very good friends...

...who lead a debauched existence" - Debauched? - That's the word he used.

I saw it from the beginning.

That day, I had almost decided not to come.

How could he be sure that I'd come?

Yes, that's interesting.

Did he ask you to go to the nightclub? Why that one in particular?

It was the first one we came to.

I'm not a great connoisseur

He paid you for that?

Yes.

A lot?

Pardon. I becoming indiscreet.

But then we went to the scene of the murder that night.

What murder? Oh, you mean the stripper? - Yes. - But it wasn't there.

The stripper was at the "Nude Palace".

We were at the "The Sleeping Cat" - You're sure?

Certain. If not, I'll call the police!

My name is Sandrine.

And you? - Jacques.

The Ripper? - You think that's funny?

It's a common trait among the Jacques. Not really funny.

Not really.

Poor thing. - You knew her? She was your friend?

We're not worth much, that's true.

Are you a cop? - Completely wrong.

It's true, you don't have the look.

Are they here?

The cops? - No.

That's what surprises me.

Why? - She's dead, after all.

That doesn't seem to interest anybody.

Perhaps the cops think that they have done their duty.

You don't say?

Well, now...do I please you?

What should I reply? - "Yes or no" As simple as that.

It's yes, isn't it? - It's yes.

Do you mean that we'll spend the night together? - Why not?

I understand. Are you an artist, or what? - Champagne?

Why not?

So, she was your friend? And then?

That's what's rotten. Everyone talks about her.

She was there, invisible, and then one fine evening...

Bad luck. Or perhaps destiny.

That's what I told her, it's what she wanted.

She tried to kill herself 2 or 3 times. And then bang!

How did he look? - Who? - The guy she left with?

How should I know? She didn't leave alone.

And then? It's like that every evening here.

Did he have a big spot behind his ear?

Always with a tie, courteous, very well dressed,

A bit like that actor, Jules Berri.

Loulou? It wasn't him!

I can tell you: we know Loulou very well. Who doesn't know Loulou?

Antoine, do you know Loulou? - Who doesn't know Loulou?

No, about that you can be sure. Loulou is harmless. I like him a lot.

Do you really know who I'm talking about?

Of course. Loulou is a philosopher. He knows how to talk.

...and what can one say? He's sublime.

Believe me, I know him very well.

He wouldn't harm a fly.

He might talk wildly. But this, no. Not him.

How does he behave? - Not like you.

He's got class.

I don't mean that you don't have.

But he's special.

I like Loulou a lot.

He's so generous, so sensitive.

For me he is the ideal man. - Him?

Alright, he isn't handsome, but he's not like all the others.

He's special.

But he's not a killer.

Why are you so interested in him? You're not a cop, after all?

Believe me, it's not him.

Antoine! - What?

This gentleman thinks that Loulou killed Claudine.

Believe me, it's not him.

I never said that he did.

But you thought it. - No, no, I didn't think it.

If you knew him.

Loulou? For me, he's Joseph.

His name is Joseph? That's news to me.

Joseph. That's nice, Joseph.

Loulou, the ideal man.

That's what Claudine thought, poor thing.

She wanted to marry him.

And now...Claudine is no longer here, and life goes on.

We'll have a lot of fun this evening. - Why not?

KIERKEGARD. DIARY OF A SEDUCER

Do you know it? - Yes.

Not me. Is it any good? - Very good. You should read it.

I know, but I need the time.

Let's start. Tomorrow I have a photo session at 9 a.m.

You're a model? - They pay well.

In the nude?

It's for "Paris Hollywood", do you know it? - Yes, I've seen in the kiosks.

Now look.

That's me.

It was the first time I posed like that. It's pretty, isn't it?

Do you like me like that? - I find it very chaste.

Oh really? I thought I looked rather attractive.

In general, I mean.

'Course can't do much about it. Have to think of the kids.

Have to think of everyone, isn't that so?

If only everybody thought like you.

You married?

You're not wearing a ring.

No, I'm not married. I live with a girl.

Yes, it's better. More romantic.

If it's against convention then I'm for it.

You too? - Yes, yes.

She's pretty...your girlfriend.

Hey lover, are you interested in me or in those photos?

Don't you see that you have the original right here?

Want to look? It's not like in the photos.

Do you know this girl? - Show me.

Maybe I know her, why?

Do you know her? - She's my girl.

You don't say!

What's her name? - Sabine.

Sabine?...No, I don't know her.

She's pretty.

Will you lend this to me?

I'll give it back, I promise. - Alright, but you musn't lose it.

I have a client who wants it for his collection. If a number is missing, it loses value.

I swear on my mother's head.

Cross your heart.

That means you'll come back.

Are you jealous?

She's just like all the rest, you know.

And now...

...it's very late.

Waiter! - Sir? Coffee and a glass of red, please.

You must be a connoissieur. Where did you get this number? I've been looking everywhere for it.

Is it so valuable? - May I? - Yes, go ahead.

Further on, there are 2 girls who...

Of course, it's only an hypothesis...

There could be other girls in this number who...

Are you interested in such things? - It's my job.

Journalist? - Bookseller.

"Rarities" at the end of the street. Come and see me if you decide to sell it...

Do you really think that the assassin seeks out girls who pose for this magazine?

As I said: only an hypothesis.

Perhaps the police should be informed. - The police?

They have other worries.

Terrorists, for example. They should keep them company.

Your health.

No, I have a sort of intuition, which you might call "poetic"

I'm a collector. The killer of the 18'th is also a collector.

A "poet" if you like, who possesses the complete collection of "Paris-Hollywood"...

...except for one number.

So, he decides to kill all the girls who appear in just that number.

What's the logic of that? - The logic of poetry.

I'm also a writer of "roman policiers".

Come and see me, and I'll make you a gift of one or two.

It's a promise.

Sabine.

What time is it? - It's 7 o'clock.

God, I have an appointment at 9.

Where have you been? Look.

It's a surprise. - What? - Look!

Special strip-tease. - Ah, very good. Continue.

No, not now. I have to get ready for my appointment.

I've never seen that before. - Me, I have.

Perhaps I wasn't paying attention.

Poor thing... - Poor thing.

Poor thing...

Yes?

What a tone! Do you have a cold? - I was asleep.

I'm not surprised. - What do you want?

Yesterday I ran into Christine Etchigolan.

She told me that you're working with them. Is that true? - Professional secret.

It's not a translation, I hope? We have exclusive rights.

It's a novel.

She accepted "The Last Judgement"? - No, it's a new one.

I see...you never told me. What sort of book?

Professional secret. - Don't make me laugh.

Certainly not. I promised exclusive rights.

As you like, my friend. Catherine is very decent.

Shall we meet up one of these days? - As you like.

Wednesday at 8?

O.K. - Kisses.

Yes? - It's this evening.

What? - 8 o'clock, at "The Wild Rabbit"

We'll set out after dinner.

Now what?

It's Sabine. I saw you had the magazine. I'm ashamed.

You don't say? - You don't want me any more.

Because of the photos? They were very nice.

Ernest, I'm not right for you. - And why not? - Double life.

So what? - And I'm ashamed!

Of what, may I ask? - Bad girl.

Sabine, I hate it when you start to talk like a telegram.

But that's my job. Post office. Double life.

Tell me if I'm wrong...

...but do you often carry out this sort of reconnaissance? - Always.

Like in the cinema? - A little , yes...

For me the decor is very important.

There are places which stink of crime. One has to sniff them out...

...and that takes time.

This evening we'll go to Montmartre. Oh, I know, it's a cliche but...

I can recall at least 3 detective novels set in Montmartre.

Montmartre, Montmartre...

Without a doubt. - Joseph?

What are you looking for exactly? - Oh...it's too complicated.

For the moment what I want is that you experience...

...the perfume.

You didn't think of pulling out at that point? - No, it was too late.

No, it wasn't too late.

No, it wasn't too late.

I felt like I was suffocated. You don't know Joseph.

No, I don't know Joseph. - Then you can't understand

As I understand it, what inspires you first of all, is a face.

Sometimes. There are no rules.

Then I'll have to invent one. - Why?

No rules, no novel. - Ah, yes, I understand.

You could say that there has to be an ideal relation between face and place.

You just made that up! - Yes. You don't find it apt?

Not the best. - Must I invent something else?

You should know. - That about the assassin wasn't bad.

But not enough. - Come now, you're the novelist.

I'm not so sure. - I hope I-I...

I think it's around here that it will happen.

What's so special about this spot? - Quiet.

Do you hear? - Yes, it sounds like...

It's like a...

Good. That's it. It's here that it will happen.

Why? - It's here and nowhere else.

And now? - Now...

...we must be patient.

The victim must arrive... find her way here...

...she must have the right face...

...and I must be here.

Not so easy, eh?

Failed.

It happens.

Because of the explosion? - Perhaps.

In any case, it was only a reconnaissance.

I feel exhausted.

You learned something, I hope?

See you again soon. - When? - I'll let you know.

That's what I told her, it's what she wanted.

She tried to kill herself 2 or 3 times. And then, bang!.

He must have snapped under this new humiliation.

Mediocrity is a terrible burden.

That's what hell is.

I understand.

It's what one calls a split personality.

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

Yes, it's me.

You awake? - As usual.

Come this evening. 7B Gaillard Passage in the 18'th.

Remarkable. Absolutely remarkable.

I'm very pleased.

So much the better. I'm going. - But why?

In your letter you said there were still 2 or 3 little things.

Not in the novel. The novel will be sensational, it already is.

Two or three days ago I met Maryse.

It was amusing

She said that you had a strong vocation but no imagination.

She said that? - I think she was a little jealous.

She asked me: "And your readers? What do they think?"

I replied: "We don't have readers."

"I decide everything." She appeared surprised.

She's a very decent sort, but she's insecure.

What do you think? - That it's quite right.

What is right? What she said?

No...

No. That she lacks self-assurance.

Ah, yes. Since our novel is a work of imagination, it's perfectly clear, isn't it?

It's not something that was told to you...?

I mean that, editorially speaking, we don't accept the roman � clef.

No, no, it's not a roman � clef.

In any case, I would prefer that our novel should be the realization of experience.

Something really lived through, if I can put it that way.

The text sounds so true... one feels a sort of vertigo..

Do you follow me, Ernest?

You follow me? - Yes, yes, I follow you.

We're good friends. We can discuss these things.

What things?

You have the hands of an assassin.

Ernest...

...we women...

- and you understand women very well -

... we women sometimes have fantasies.

No, wait...

Annie, I'm not to be disturbed, I'm in a meeting.

What do you mean by "nausea"?

Well, solitude, anguish, all that... - And if one is not reponsible?

One is always responsible. - An absurd responsibility? - Yes.

Look at the barman. - A vodka.

What's he doing? He's pretending to be a barman. That's what's absurd.

And where does that lead? - To nothingness.

Or engagement. - That is, responsibility.

I am responsible. You are responsible.

As for that...

Do we know each other?

Your friend has just left. - Pardon?

He was here, he saw me, then he left at high speed.

I suppose he didn't expect to see me here.

Usually I'm on the Left Bank. But I like a change sometimes.

Have you known Joseph for long?

Loulou? Who doesn't know Loulou?

And me? Do you know me? - You're Loulou's friend. I saw you yesterday.

He won't come back, I know him.

He's a bit perverse, but above all very timid.

I see. You are the next victim. - No, it's you.

You are the victim of a farce.

He told me "I laid a bet with a friend...

...that I had sufficient mental power to attract any woman...

...or any man, at any hour."

Which was the object of the bet.

You see...I thought rather it was you.

Ah, these intellectuals! - Is it so obvious?

Nothing is simple for you.

I adore improvisation. - Loulou as well.

He has a gift for organising these meetings.

He is a real personality.

Enough about Loulou. I suppose that you want to wrap up the bet now.

Stop here. I'll get down.

Follow that car? - And then what? Buy new tyres?

"RARETIES". OLD BOOKS. RARE BOOKS.

Does he come often? - I told you. As soon as you came in, he left.

And what does he buy from you. - It's confidential.

Ah, Tax Inspector. Doesn't he pay his share?

It's confidential.

And what is it that you want to know? - What does he buy?

Currently he is interested in autographs. - Are they expensive?

Rather...

At the moment he is looking for the autograph of Gilles de Rais.

Why not Attila, eh? - Yes, why not?

Everything he searches for is expensive...

He's interested in the autographs of the great criminals.

I know his address if that might help.

I have it too, but he doesn't live there any more.

Antoine?

Does he have many debts? - As a fraction of his total wealth, which is...

...large.

What are you looking for?

More or less the same thing as this gentleman.

Why, I know you.

You're the collector of "Paris-Hollywood"

Do you have time for a coffee? - Certainly.

May I join you?

Of course. - Of course, of course.

Antoine? - Antoinette. I'm at the "Balto"

You're a writer? That's obvious.

Me too. I write "romans noirs".

I write detective stories in the Sherlock Holmes style.

I just write novels, "tout court".

How can one describe the "nouveau roman"? It's not litterature, it's geometry.

Ah, no, I don't agree. - No, no, not at all.

My themes are those of real life. - So you're an existentialist?

And our client, then?

He fiddles his accounts, like all the rich set.

He's a collector, and an avid reader of "romans policiers"

Perhaps also an author? - No, not him.

I think rather that he's an opportunist, a potential criminal when given the chance.

He seeks crimes within his reach, but finds none. He's harmless...perhaps

Except for the women.

Excuse me, are you talking of Loulou? - Mmm-hmm

Yes, why? - And you say that he is rich? -Yes, invisibly rich, with no fixed abode.

Then he's in debt!

My dear friend, I think you can put a cross through it.

You look perplexed. - That's because I am perplexed.

I have the impression that I'm the only one who doesn't know Loulou.

Does he owe you money also?

Ah, no, it's rather the opposite. No, he pays me far too much.

To do what? - Not very much, that's the problem.

How much does he owe? - It's the girls who pay him.

For once!

Cheers! - Cheers!

Ask for the "Independent" Yes, sir, here you are.

A new victim in the "Indpendent" Read it here!

Here's your change. Thankyou

Read it here! Read it in the "Independent". A new victim!

Read it here! The blonde assassin strikes at a brunette.

Do you like it? - No. Definitely not.

It's so horrible.

What's horrible? - Why, everything.

I don't recognize you.

You prefer this. - Yes, why not.

It's a point of view.

I thought at least you might have been shocked by my photos.

Innocent!

Either way, things aren't that simple.

When you talk like that I begin to feel afraid.

It's only a novel.

Yes, but a novel in which there is so much detail, it's not made up.

You've hit on the core of the matter. - And so?

And if I told you that I'd been given me those details?

What do you mean "given". That doesn't mean anything.

Do you know what is meant by a split personality?

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

That's also a novel - like mine.

Listen...

My editor liked it. She paid me to write it.

You should be happy. - But I'm afraid, Ernest.

Perhaps it's silly, but I'm afraid.

You're a silly-billy.

Do you love me? - I love you.

I love your...obscurities.

What does that mean? - You know.

You mean I'm a whore? - Among other things.

There exist other words than these...

...that I dare not...pronounce.

I'm ashamed... Can you forgive me?

You are...the most ravishing of young girls.

I do it for the money, you know.

And nothing more.

I'm not against it.

Will you write a novel? - Excellent idea!

You know, I could tell you some pretty good stories

As long as you don't get angry. After this novel...

Ernest, I really don't recognize you! - Me neither, I don't recognize myself.

When will it come out? - Soon.

Also, I have a favour to ask.

I'd like you to deliver the manuscript to my editor.

It won't be the first time that I've delivered things for you.

No. But before it was translations. - Okay.

Okay.

You're not angry with me. You like me as I am.

That's how I prefer you.

Close your eyes.

They're already closed. - Close them even so.

Can I open? - Not yet.

Ernest, there's someone spying on us. - What? Don't move, he's across the way.

Do you know who it is? - An old friend.

Funny sort of friend!

Yes, that's the right word.

Oh, poor thing. - Poor thing!

Sabine, Sabine.

The address was clearly marked on the envelope.

How could you be so mistaken?

She understood nothing, Sabine... - Even so!

Good evening. Are you delivering a manuscript? May I?

Ernest Ripper.

Do you know him? - Of course, who doesn't know Ernest Ripper?

He's my sweetheart. - Congratulations.

Don't be afraid, I don't bite. - I'm in a hurry.

Maryse will be here any minute.

Maryse is my sweetheart's former partner? - I am her current partner.

Ah, I see.

May I leave the manuscript with you? - Of course.

I prefer not to meet her. - I understand.

Thank you. Goodbye.

At that point too, she could have easily escaped. She could have taken the metro.

She didn't like to spend money unnecessarily. - That's true.

And then...it was ordained. - Where?

It was written in my novel.

Even what happened after your death? - Even that.

Yes? - It's me.

Where are you? - You know very well.

I was about to go to "The Wild Rabbit".

No point. You only have to cross the street. I'm waiting for you.

Dirty bastard.

Perfect. Now you can explain all this.

Where is my novel? - Your novel? You mean, my novel.

It's with the editor. - It's mine! I paid for it.

Pretty toy. But it won't be of any use to you.

I know how to use it. - You don't say!

Where is my novel? You must have kept a copy.

There's just a single copy. Given to the appointed person.

I should suspected you from the beginning. - I have always been suspicious.

Why? I was always correct.

Not really, Joseph Arcimboldo. Not really, Loulou.

Who is Loulou? A schizo. A fabulator.

But also a pervert. A manipulator. And that's not funny at all.

Look at yourself, Ernest Ripper. - You also, Joseph Arcimboldo.

You want a copy of the novel which relates your exploits.

Be careful what you wish for. They could become real.

I know you have killed nobody. But the police need an assassin. And soon.

I'm not afraid of the police. I want my novel.

You mean, my novel. - It's mine, you thief!

Oh, poor little Loulou. They stole his toy.

For the last time, Paul Dupont, alias Ernest Ripper, return my novel.

Beware Loulou. The next time you call me that, I'll smash your face in.

And here we are once again, at the point of departure.

As you say.

It could have been avoided. It would have been enough to...

What? Say it. - No. I don't know.

Yes. As you say.

Indeed. As you say.

I'm sorry. I wouldn't have recognized you.

Was it painful?

I didn't feel a thing.

And you? - No worse than the dentist.

And quicker.

I can't believe it.

I wouldn't go that far.

Want some?

Are we allowed? - I don't know.

It fell with me. And it didn't break.

Isn't that strange?

Does it bother you? - Not really.

It's just that it's never empty.

What is it? - It tastes like air.

Oh yes. I see.

It only works for me.

What's he doing? - He's concealing the crime.

That's clever.

Where are we? - In Condorcet House.

What's he doing? - What do you think? He's reading my novel.

Maryse? - No, it's Christine Etchigolan.

Is Maryse there? - It's Alexis. I'm waiting for her.

Can you tell her the bad news.

Ernest Ripper has just killed himself.

My God!

That's bad news for you. He was working with you? - Yes.

He was going to give me his manuscript today.

And then this news exploded like a bomb.

His girlfriend found him right after he suicided.

I never realized he was so depressed. - Indeed.

I'm terribly late.

Jean-Paul raised my hopes. And all those comings and goings.

What a sour face! - And for good reason.

Ernest Ripper has just commited suicide.

It can't be. - Christine just told me the news.

My God.

He was writing a novel about Montpensier.

His mind must have snapped under this new humiliation.

Mediocrity is a terrible burden. - As you say.

As a consolation I can inform you that I've just finished my novel.

"I am the child of the mediaeval New York night"

Strange beginning, but not bad. Not bad at all.

I'll need to read more. I must call Christine.

Shall we dine together? - No, not this evening. Excuse me.

As you wish, darling. Happy reading.

See you tomorrow? At dinner? - Of course. Till tomorrow.

Yes?

I've some news for you. Ernest has just killed himself. Are you happy now?

Who's talking? Who are you?

Hello? Hello?

Who are you?

You don't frighten me, I'm armed.

Who are you? Why are you following me?

Joseph, it's you!

I though you were in South America. - I've come from a much greater distance.

From where, then. - From everywhere.

I thought you had become a professor, I can't remember where exactly.

Santiago in Chile. But that's all over.

You look very well. - I have a project for you.

Very good.

Shall we arrange a meeting right now? - Why, yes.

Let's see...Wednesday, 3 o'clock. - Perfect.

And what's your project about? Not a travel book, I hope.

No, it's a novel. An existentialist novel.

Hmm. Are there lots of words? - A lot. At least, I hope.

It sounds perfect. What's the story about?

There's an killer...a writer with no inspiration, like me...And then-

It strikes a note. Anyway, we'll see.

Till Wednesday. Give me a kiss.

Good evening, Roger. Good evening, Loulou.

Is everything alright?

Excellent! - Very good, very good.

Shall we have a coffee? - Yes.

Roger. I think that's most unwise. - I enjoy taking a risk.

So I see.

I think I've found an editor. - Are you sure?

I believe so. - Very good.

As you say. - As you say. As you say.

Joseph. - Yes?

Perhaps it's a bad idea.

Apparently.

You could write this book yourself.

No doubt.

And now?

Ernest Ripper is dead.

And the novel? - Lost!

Just as I thought. Bad idea.

I made progress though. I was inside the killer's skin.

Now it's over.

Now...I am the assassin.

I owe him that, Roger.

But we're going to write this book. - Yes.

We'll start next week. - No. Right away.

I'll tell you the truth, the whole truth.

Nothing but the truth.

Go on, then.

There.

Roger did the last one.

The one whose life was prolonged by the suicide of the painter.

Because I was there for her, that day.

Now that my mission has terminated I shall return to base.

You're leaving me? - I want to leave. Soon.

And the book?

You know the essentials. I've killed all the girls who posed for this number.

But why?

Because they were there.

And one must follow a straight line. Have a coherent program.

One can't kill at random.

And then? - Nothing more.

But who will ever believe that? - Nobody.

And then? - Nothing.

That's how it is.

Do you think he could see us? - So it appeared.

Mark?

For some time I've been wanting to ask you a rather personal question.

Did you love Sabine?

No. - Me neither.

But now I think I could love her.

I love her already.

I wish I could return to her.

You know, there are very few living souls who are able to see the dead.

But there are even fewer dead who are able to contact the living.

She is dead, like you and me.

And there are even fewer dead who have the chance to meet another dead.

That's what makes our meeting is so exceptional.

There are no others.

That's what hell is.

It doesn't have to be.

So I'll never see Sabine again?

On the contrary. We'll see her together.

Every day.

We'll see all that again tomorrow?

Yes. Every day.

Good.

Till tomorrow. - It is already.

Already? - Already.

That's how it is in hell.

The visible part.

I wouldn't mind a drink.

And I would so like a cigarette.

Subs: wootletootle