All language subtitles for This Man Must Die 1969

Shut up!

THE BEAST MUST DIE

Michel!

I'm going to kill a man

I don't know who or where he is,
or what he's like

But I shall find him and kill him

Been ill?

Yes, in a way

Nothing serious, I hope

No, not in the way you mean, anyway

I know that clinic; they'd do
wonders for a corpse

My brother-in-law... my sister's,
really, but I live with them...

...he's a nurse there; a red-headed
fellow, Andre Duplessis, remember him?

That Dr. Duverger is a top-notcher;
and the food's great, too

It's pricey, of course;
but, still, you've been lucky

The bastards!

I was thinking about the sign

A kid got run over three weeks ago

So the sign goes up afterwards?

You know civil servants

It was drizzling a little,
just the usual

Have you hurt your foot?

You've had the curtains cleaned;
good

Where's my boat?

A mast came off; I sent it for repair

You were quite right

You've stuck that on again; good

Listen carefully, Madame Levenées

I've something very important
to ask you

Never speak of it again;
don't even refer to it

Promise?

And if for any reason you should
have to mention him some time...

...then talk of him in the present,
as though...

I know it's silly, but I prefer it
that way

Now, to change the subject:
have you followed my instructions?

- Is his room empty?
- The furniture's gone to my niece

And the toys?

No, I couldn't...

It may take six months, a year,
two years, but I'll find him

I shall win his confidence,
then I'll bide my time

Finally, smiling, I shall look him
straight in the eyes...

...and for interminable hours
I'll make him await death

I've work to do; if anyone telephones,
I'm not to be disturbed

I said I had work to do;
don't bother me!

Yes, but it's the police

Just a moment

The investigation is proceeding

With no results, naturally

We've made appeals for people
to come forward

The front of the car must have been
damaged by the collision

Our inquiries at garages and
petrol stations...

...about repairs to wings, radiators
or bumpers have yielded nothing

As one might expect

It's like searching for a needle
in a haystack

A haystack?

If I wanted to hide a needle...

...l'd put it in a box of needles

The best way to disguise damage
is to create more damage

To avoid the consequences of an
accident, I'd stage another

I'd drive into a wall or a tree,
obliterating the first collision

What you should be looking for...

...is an accident in that area
the same day

We have; the idea isn't exactly new

All right, but just let me think
aloud for a minute

First possibility: the car wasn't
damaged, which isn't likely

Or maybe he put it in a private
garage and it's still there

Or, more plausible this, he carried
out the repairs himself

Admitting this hypothesis, does it
tell us anything about the murderer?

If he did the repairs, he must know
something about it...

...or at least have the tools
to beat out a dented wing

He would have to do
the repairs by night...

...and the hammering would have
wakened the neighbours

But a wing can be taken off
and replaced

I'm coming to that; if he replaced
a wing or a light...

...he's an experienced mechanic
and must work in a garage

Or else he himself is the owner
of a garage...

...who can get replacements from his
own stock without anybody knowing

Rather wild reasoning...

My son was crossing the street
from left to right

He was thrown to the left

So the left wing must be damaged

Find a left front wing

I need a little job done on my car,
so I...

- Where's the car?
- At home

Couldn't you bring it along
so I can see what needs doing?

I can do it myself if you can let me
have a new front wing

I see; what kind of car is it?

A 404

I've no wings for them;
no wings at all, in fact

How about old stock,
or even something slightly damaged?

I don't keep such stuff; it all goes
to the breaker's yard

What the hell would I do with it?
I've no wings at all

I'm sorry, I'd have liked to oblige

I think I've found what I want

Mind my tools

Can't you find something better?
It's all bashed up

Less than mine; I'll fix that

Didn't you say a left wing?

That's a right wing

The result is rather disappointing

Five exhausting weeks for nothing...
or almost nothing

False trails, vain hopes that
leave me bruised and despairing

I quite realize that the terrain
is limitless

That I am one man on earth
seeking another

My only weapon is patience;
I can wait

I have all my life, and all his

Unless chance takes a hand;
chance is weird, and it does exist

In fact, chance is all there is

Like everything else, my pen on
this paper is a coincidence

I bet you got stuck in the mud

You're not the first that
happened to

Every time it rains, someone gets
stuck there

Sometimes several cars

I think the engine's flooded;
would you know?

The last time it happened
it wasn't just anybody

She was a film star,
a really fine-looking woman

She was in a sports car...
a Mustang, so my son says

A fine-looking woman

The man with her was going on about
the front of his car

It was the third of January,
as I remember

Yes, that's right. A nice little
piece, she was

Not stuck-up, either.
A bit upset; she was crying

Don't carry on like that, I said,
there's no real harm done

What was her name?

That I don't remember, but I did
see her on television

I saw her on television
in a programme called...

I've forgotten that, too

But my son's interested in these
stars... much too interested

Why do you want to know?

Well, you know... when someone famous
has had the same experience...

When are you going home?

Why don't we go now?

You could do with a drink

Afterwards, I'll get my contraption
and pull you out

Where's Jean-Frangois?
Tell him to come

Careful, it's not very clean

Come in and make yourself at home

3rd January; that would be
some coincidence

It never occurred to me that
it might be a woman

But I'd have no qualms at all
about that

I can see her

I can see her deliberately driving
full-tilt into the quagmire...

...TO WASH MY SON'S BLOOD AWAY

What are you up to? Get out!

Tell this gentleman her name

Héléne Lanson

You've never heard of Héléne Lanson?

I don't go to films much and
I never watch television

You must have seen her; I'll show you
a photograph

Get us a drink, mother

There aren't all that many pretty
women on television

What was the programme called?

Les Cathares

You're right, she is beautiful

The man was an ugly customer, though

But what a car!

What was the man's name?

I've no idea; he was an ill-tempered
brute, though

He kept bawling her out for crying

I don't know how to put it, but there
was a callous look about him

Yes, that's it: a callous look

Her husband?

That's what I think, too!

How would you know?

She doesn't like the girl
and never even saw her

What do you see in that bit of skirt?

I told you

She's just right for the character
in my new script

So you're going in for movies now?
Following the herd!

Why not? I can still go on with
my writing if I want to

What time is she coming?

I'm not sure she will come

She usually ends up at the
St. Hilaire

Yes... poor Héléne

She could be rather good
if they'd let her

No one's ever given her a chance?

No such luck for her; she's a jinx

A jinx; you know what that is

Come and dance with me

You're late

Nice, eh?

You look lovely, Héléne

I'm not just saying that

Anyway, there's a chap here whose eye
you've caught

I don't believe you

Well, sit down

He looks rooted to the spot

This is Marc, a very talented writer

It wasn't difficult

She wasn't playing hard to get; but
she's not such a fool as I thought

She even has a sharp sort of wit

So far, she hasn't made
one stupid remark

It's the best restaurant in Paris,
hence in France

Don't you find the cuisine amazing?

Sometimes she seems to be wondering
what I am really up to

I've made absolutely no advances;
it amuses me to keep her guessing

If she knew...

She only knows me under my pen-name
of Marc Andrieux

How could she connect me with the
Charles Thénier whose son was killed?

I'm biding my time

She hasn't been to my place before

I'm not sure how I shall act

But my resolution will not weaken

If she is guilty, she will die

I'd rather...

How about a drink?

Terrible weather, isn't it?

We don't get spring any more;
no summer, autumn or winter - nothing

If I were God...

What are you after?

What do you mean?

You take me out to dinner, to films,
to night clubs; why?

Because I enjoy it; don't you?

What about this script you mentioned?

I'm working on it, thinking,
making notes

Can I see the notes?

Well, really, isn't that stupid?

It must be my secretary who...
who must have put them...

Let's be frank; what do you want
with me?

You aren't a child; it shouldn't be
hard to understand

Well, pretend I'm a child and tell me

All right, if you want me to
go through the usual routine

I'll tell you...

...that you're beautiful,
that you have great charm...

...that I like you

And?

Since the day you entered my life...

...l haven't been able to sleep
or eat...

...hardly even drink

The singing of birds is a dreary
refrain...

...and the flowers have lost their
scent

Will that do'?

I thought that kind of man
was extinct

You think no such thing

Are you married, or virtuous?

Neither

Then don't you want to kiss me?

What a strange character

Tea or coffee?

With toast, jam and fried eggs?

Yes, I'm hungry

It smells good

That's nothing

Some day I'll do you saddle of hare
with sauce poivrade...

...or morel croustades,
then you'll really see

No teaspoons?

They're pretty hideous;
I thought you were rich

No; anyway, I'm a bachelor
living in a furnished apartment

Why?

Because I travel a lot

So I've nothing...

Anyway, things bore me

Me, too; except living in the country,
I'd love that

Where are you from?

I was born in Brittany

And have you... have you still
family there?

My sister and grandmother

How about friends?

Not many; my brother-in-law

Isn't he family?

What's the difference?

Where does he live?

At Quimper; he runs a garage

I'm sorry, I've always been
all thumbs

What were we saying?
Oh, yes, he runs a garage

It's the biggest in the area;
he's filthy rich

What's his name? Perhaps I know him...
I'm often in Brittany

Paul Decourt

I'd be surprised if you knew him

No, I don't know him

He's a funny chap, you said

He's not funny;
actually, he's rather repulsive

Why are you so interested, anyway?

I'm interested in everything
that concerns you

Well, that's nice

The only nice thing since
this morning, in fact

Do you see him often?

- Who?
- Your brother-in-law?

Not often now; not at all, in fact

Since my illness

It was nervous depression;
everyone laughs, but it isn't funny

I agree; I'm not laughing

Did you have worries?

Yes, but I don't want to talk about
them. Got any cigarettes?

Yes, they're in the thing in my room

You have a Teddy?

Give it to me! It's a souvenir
that means a lot to me

A souvenir of whom?

My nephew who died. Give it to me

Why can't I touch your nephew's bear?

I'm just a tart to you, I know.
It's a horrible thing, anyway!

You're trying to kill me

I'm sorry

Me, too

I acted like a fool

In pursuing a goal like mine
emotions must be cast aside

The bear my son loved so much...

...is only plush and stuffing,
after all

I feel oddly tender to that
thoughtless little creature

Her depression after the crime proves
she is more victim than culprit

Which does not mean I have changed
my plans; far from it

In fact...

...l have got what I wanted;
emotional duplicity pays dividends

I persuaded her

We're going to Quimper

I pleaded nervous exhaustion
and my love for Brittany

I used her own argument: was I
unworthy to meet the family?

She didn’t jib; she was delighted

I feel a little ashamed; she thinks
my feelings are deeper...

I thought he ran a garage

He doesn't sleep among the pumps

The garage is in town.
Hurry, we're late

Would your sister think it more
proper if I stayed in a hotel?

Don't worry, she knows me

I'm glad to hear it

I mean that after Paris, little sister
is not expected to be a nun

My sister doesn't care, anyway

They have fifteen bedrooms,
if you insist on your own

I'll show you your rooms

You'll have your usual room
and Marc the one next door

This is yours; I hope you like it

We have friends for dinner;
Paul will be home soon

I'll just put on a shirt and tie,
then join you

I've never seen anything so ghastly

Come and meet my son, Philippe

Stop that now; your father will be
home soon

My mother-in-law, Madame Decourt

Jacques Ferrand, Paul's partner

This is his wife, Anna

Quimper's a charming town, isn't it?

Rather quiet

Especially in winter

Summer's livelier

It's best in spring, though;
the fields are covered in flowers

That's how it goes with spring

The autumn is pleasant here, too

The last time I was here in autumn...

...the colours were all reds
and yellows and...

Bronzes

You live in Paris, normally?

It's busier than here

Rather too busy for my taste,
actually

My husband and I were there three
weeks ago; the traffic's impossible

Especially in the rush hours

Two hours to cross Paris.
It's ridiculous

Not to mention the noise

I read a report saying it reached
some terrible decibel level

And the pollution of the atmosphere;
it's a real national problem

An international one, even

How will it all end?

I see that lots of young people
are very worried about it

You had a fine summer

Don't speak of it!

All the tourists going to Spain...
disastrous for the hotel business

The weather isn't the only culprit;
the sun shines here, too

No, the authorities must take
a good deal of the blame

On investments, for instance.
I don't know what your line is...

I write a little

Of course; remind me of your name

I read your last novel...
what was it called?

I liked the end, when the blind old
servant runs into the burning house

You must be mistaken;
I write children's stories

How wonderful

Another glass?

It's fifteen years old

I wanted to ask you what you think
of the nouveau roman

Some people find it boring...

...but I think it's an interesting
attempt to renew old forms...

...to reconcile time and space,
if you see what I mean

Yes, I'd say so, yes

I mean, Nathalie Sarraute,
Butor, Robbe-Grillet...

...even Gegauff, like it or not,
are pretty extreme

Yes, indeed, very extreme

Here's Paul

Think you're a lady of leisure now?

Just because we had a bit of fun?

You'd better think again, girl

And wipe that grin off...

...or it won't be my hand on your
rump, it'll be my boot

You're here already?

Sorry I'm late; I had meetings

What gloomy faces

This is simply disgusting

It's drowning in gravy;
why didn't you boil it down?

I did; four hours

Give it five or six hours, then

When the meat is cooked,
you keep it hot...

...and do the liquor in a casserole

Haven't I told you a dozen times?

Are you a gourmet?

On occasion, yes

So you understand, right?

They say I grouse, but I don't like
waste

Know what my butcher's bills are?

A hundred a month!

Cookery's the one art
that doesn't lie

You can be taken in by music or
painting, but grub's good or bad

My dear wife, though...

...prefers sitting in her room
writing her little doodads

I'll treat the gentleman to one

O moon of hope, valley of tears

My heart shrouded in black

Please, Paul, stop

Elixir of eternal youth,
great design of spring for all thing

Dancing in my heart on the purple...

...in my heart on the purple
asphodels

While in the dark depths of Erebus,
ultimate revolt...

...shakes the foundations of my ego

Madame shuts herself away in her room
to shake her foundations!

What's your professional opinion?

For that I think you must be
forgiven for neglecting your stove

You're very kind, but Paul's
just teasing

I'm fond of you, anyway, sweetie

I've nothing against poetry;
in fact, I'm pro culture

Idiot boy!

Look what you've made me do!

An abominable creature;
a caricature of the wholly bad man...

...such as one never imagines
meeting in reality

I was afraid I might like him

Now my joy in killing him
will be doubled

Are you still anxious to see over
my garage?

Yes, I'd love to

What are you writing, a book?

I wouldn't have minded being
a writer; it's easy money

I see you don't want me to read it

lt's just notes; I don't like
showing it to people, because...

Why, is it smutty?

Not at all, it's just that...

It's about a man who's looking for
another man

- A detective?
- In a way

I thought you wrote stuff for
children

Yes, I do; it's about a child

You must be afraid someone's
going to pinch it

No, I'm sorry... it's just that...

I could lend you the key of my safe

Important things should be hidden...
like my deeds

If you like...

...l'll dig a hole in the garden

What a brew

It's for the squits;
I hope you never need it

Big enough?

To what do we owe the pleasure,
Monsieur Andrieux?

He wants to see the garage,
I can't think why

Maybe he wants a setting
for his next story

A mucky place like this?
You're kidding

I know him; very ingratiating,
sticking his nose into everything

LET THE MEN DO THEIR JOBS,
DELAYS WILL INCREASE YOUR BILL

How women do carry on

She wanted to be a painter,
so I got her a tutor

A week later she'd forgotten that,
took up mysticism instead

Saturday horoscope stuff...
Zen, Hinduism, Buddhism...

...Bramah, Rama, Siva
and I don't know what

Now it's poetry she's on

I wouldn't care, except that
the kid's becoming the same

Maybe she's just trying to escape

What from? I give her everything

No, it's the family; her sister's
just the same

That Héléne, she gave us a hell of
a time; me especially

The little bitch. I could tell you
a thing or two

But I didn't come to share secrets

What do you want with that junk'?

Nothing

Do you know a sculptor called César?

His passion is scrap metal;
everything has a soul, he says

Does he really?

Aren't you a bit touched, too?

Some soul!

Why do car salesmen always kick
the tires?

Why do film-makers do this?
They're tricks of the trade

If you want a car, this is a snip

- Thanks, I have one
- Not like this

I'm not giving you a salesman's line

This one belonged to me; a great car

I have to get rid of it

Why do you have to?

Do I ask if your granny rides a bike?

What are you up to?

Don't hurry, we've got all day

I've been looking everywhere for you,
to sign my report

How about History?

Unfortunately, I swotted the
wrong thing

Well, we won't quarrel about trifles

After all, we're brothers-in-law;
you're almost family now

Almost, but not quite

The bastard! The filthy swine!

I wish he'd die

- He's your father, old chap
- I don't care

Why don't you kill him?

Why don't you kill him?

That's crazy talk; do you realize
what you're saying?

I knew what you'd think

If you don't do it, I will

- What will you do?
- I'll do it

I've one twice as large

What a family tableau,
like a Victorian novel

How wonderful, a spider-crab!

Take them off, I said

- I'm cold
- I'll warm you

- What about Jeanne?
- She doesn't care

- And Anna's husband?
- He doesn't care, either

I love you

Why are you looking at me like that?

You, too, slept with him?

Who?

You know who I mean

It's the most horrible memory
of my life

Forgive me?

I've nothing to forgive

Have you other secrets?

Isn't that enough?

Are you sure you haven't?

Have mercy, Marc

I've confessed enough for one day

You see, Jeanne, commonly called
a shellfish...

...this is really a highly ferocious
marine gastropod

The tide's coming in, fisher-folk;
time to go

They say it's hard making money in
the provinces, but it isn't

I can put you onto something

I'm no businessman

Don't be stupid

Nothing to it; invest ten thousand
and you earn two

That's twenty per cent. An old woman
owns some land near here

Just right for a golf course. She
won't sell, but she can be ruined

I could get it for nothing

She left some bonds with me,
but there's no proof, no receipt even

I'm quite serious. Want to go and
have a look? It's not far

Get a move on, you lazy lot!

I can't hold on

I'm going to be killed! Help!

You can't just leave me here;
help me!

Stop getting in my hair!

Let's go

I'm fed up with your fishing parties

Put the light on

Why did you help him?

Who?

You should have let him fall

Stop it

He doesn't deserve to live

I know

I don't like him, either

Lovers often hesitate, not from
timidity...

...but to prolong the anticipation

Filled with hatred, I linger over
what awaits me

Killing him will be no more than
throwing away the peel...

...of a fruit one has relished

He cannot swim; his son told me so

I spend hours walking with Philippe

I must coax Decourt out in a boat

I shall hire a boat, a small one

I shall wait for a south-westerly,
the prevailing wind

We shall have the wind behind us
to the headland

After that we shall be tacking
into the wind

My moment will have come

I shall wait for a squall
and put the helm hard up...

...which will bring us to

inevitably, the boat...

...will capsize

They don't hire boats,
they make them to order

But the boss is a mate of mine;
he'll oblige

I don't mind buying one

For one trip? You're not tight
with your money

He's never here

This one isn't bad at all

Don't expect me to go with you
in that nutshell, will you?

- Are you afraid?
- No, but I value my life

You take ten times the risk every day
just crossing the street

You like that one, do you?

- Saying tu now, are we?
- Sure, why not?

I hate formalities; I'm pretty
direct, but I say what I mean

And, frankly, spending money on that
is daft

No, it's not

What do you think?

I couldn't care less

Most people prefer the Odyssey

But the Iliad is the most sublime
thing ever written

When you get round to Kafka,
you'll see the resemblance

Homer is much finer, of course

There's a city talked about
but which is never reached

Hundreds and hundreds of heroes
fight and die...

...for this unreal, unattainable
thing

The theme is very simple, but treated
with incomparable poetic detail

When a bad poet describes death...

...he automatically employs cliches;
eyes turning up...

...sweat beading the forehead,
the terrible, inhuman grin

But not Homer; each death he
describes is distinctive and true

There is a moment when a young Trojan
is pursued by Diomedes

He receives the javelin in his neck...

...and the point protrudes from
his mouth like a metal tongue

And he falls to the ground,
biting the cold steel

It's a marvelous image

You're very kind

I was quite lost with these Greeks
and Trojans

It's a bit embarrassing to say,
but I like you a lot

I'm embarrassed, too, but glad

It's a pity that...

- That what?
- That you're not my father

ls it wrong to judge parents?

You know, actually it's rather
difficult not to

It's best to think of other things,
though

Ignore them, you mean?

In a sense, yes

I'd rather have had a father
I could think about

That's hard, too: not to think

I think of him and I hate myself

I know how babies are made;
half of me comes from him

Anyway, your blood is your own

Your eyes are your own

It's you that sees, thinks, acts;
it's you that...

All right, go on

Tomorrow's Sunday; take me out
in your boat

I've invited your father

He hates boats; he's afraid

He was upset that time on the cliff

He didn't like everyone thinking
he was afraid, did he?

Why have you invited him?

Because he introduced me to the man
I got the boat from

His friend made me a special price

So it's... it's the least I can do

I'll be back in fifteen minutes

Hurry, the tide's rising;
and bring an oilskin

I'll be equipped like a sea-wolf

Be careful, Marc; Paul's really
no sailor

- I'm not a baby
- No, but you've a horror of water

Except in pastis

The forecast isn't good

No, but it's just a bit of wind and
a little rain

Otherwise it's calm and fine

Be careful, darling;
don't go out too far

No, it's not necessary

Not necessary?

Isn't it a bit choppy?

On the contrary, it's a perfect sea

- Where are we going?
- Round the headland and back

But there are rocks and
terrible currents there

Don't be frightened

Stop saying that. I'm not afraid

I just don't like mucking about

- Want to take the helm?
- I don't know how

You simply steer like this...

...and control the sail
with this rope

Scared?

- Knock it off, I'm no kid
- Come and try, then

No point in coming out, otherwise

Nothing to it, is there?

I must say, it isn't difficult

Yes, it's easy

I don't see why they go on about it

Like I told you

What now?

Let it go

Take over this bloody thing,
because...

Duck!

Let it go!

Take over! I've had enough!

- Joke over, let's go back
- No, the fun's just starting

Go back, I said

Are you crazy?

No tricks, or we'll both die

Tricks?

Just do as I say; you should have
hidden your diary better

Do you take me for a fool?

You write kids' stuff and think
you're so superior

All that fuss of yours, so of course
I went and read your lousy diary

Stop, or you'll make me tip her over

There's no point

Because my lawyer has your diary

If something happens to me, your
little black book goes to the police

That's why I kept you waiting,
laughing up my sleeve

You take me for a fool?

Why didn't you take it to the police
right away?

Because you knew...

...you'd spend years in jail?

Don't worry, I shan't denounce you

On the contrary

What I want is your lousy skin,
and I'll have it

It's as good as done, and you can't
lift a finger

I'll just take it easy;
you're as good as dead

Shut your trap!

You rotten, lousy bastard!

Shut your mouth, do you hear?

You stinking, rotten swine!

I forbid you to set foot
in my house...

...or you'll go out the window!

I'll just get my suitcase

Your whore can pack it

Are you cold? Shall I put up
the hood?

Don't bother

We'll be stopping soon, anyway,
for a bite to eat

You feel like eating?

More than ever

What's on your mind?

Nothing

I don't want to think

I'm wondering how you can eat

I'm trying not the think,
to empty myself, too

So far it hasn't affected my appetite;
rather the opposite

May I serve the duck?

The little boy... the one you
knocked down on the road...

He was my son

It took me a long time to find you

My real name isn't Marc Andrieux,
it's Charles Thénier

Of course, in getting you to
Brittany...

...my one idea was to meet Paul
and kill him

ls that why you got to know me?

In the beginning, yes

You can't imagine what I went through

You won't believe me, but...

...l didn't dare say anything

I'm a coward

I hate myself

Someone else said that

Let's go back

You kill him... and I'll help you

The death is reported of
a popular personality in Quimper

The body of Monsieur Paul Decourt
was discovered in his bathroom

Death by poisoning had occurred
several hours earlier...

...whether an accident or suicide
has not yet been established

Monsieur Decourt was a well-known
businessman...

...whose actress sister-in-law,
Héléne Lanson...

...we have often admired
on our screens

Shortly before the tragedy, she was
a guest in the deceased's house...

...accompanied by the noted
children's writer Marc Andrieux

It is believed they are driving
to Paris

They are requested to communicate
with the police at Quimper

Here are the first pictures

An inhuman grin...
it was terrible to see

He did it; he killed him!

Please sit down, Madame

- I'm Inspector Constant
- I'm Charles Thénier

You hear that, Inspector?
He was using a false name

All in good time, Madame, please

What happened, exactly?

The maid found the body about
seven o'clock; soon after you left

He had dragged himself to
the bathroom...

...and collapsed on the wash-basin,
breaking it as he fell

How very sad

Please sit down

We have the results of the autopsy

Can I have a drink?

You knew he was taking medicine
for an intestinal disorder?

Yes, soon after I came here...

...he made a point of telling me
about it

We found some in his stomach,
along with poison

He'd taken nothing else

What sort of poison?

It's a substance used for
getting rid of pests...

...commonly called rat poison;
it's an agonizing death

The nerve centers are paralyzed

The body is seized by convulsions,
as in epilepsy

Breathing becomes labored; Decourt
must have suffered terribly

How very shocking, Inspector

Unfortunately for poisoners,
rat poison tastes vile

Putting it in soup or tea won't do

But an evil-tasting medicine
would serve

It is possible that someone might
have done just that

Don't listen to the swine, Inspector

Unfortunately, the bottle has
disappeared; no fingerprints, no clues

Any suggestions, Monsieur Thénier?

None. Why should I have any?

Suppose we talk about your diary

We have it and I've read it

I hope you appreciated my style

Among other things

I appreciate your motives

We're not monsters

But I do represent the law

And this diary...

...is damaging evidence against you

ls it? How?

You say in so many words
your sole purpose is to kill him

Imagining a crime is no crime

You're obviously delighted
by his death

Being delighted by a crime
is no crime, either

I admit my sole thought was of
killing him

I admit that what you've told me
fills me with joy

My only regret is...

...that he suffered so little

My sufferings have lasted
since January

You're frank, at least

But this adds to the circumstantial
evidence

Maybe, but I didn't kill him

Everyone wanted him dead;
everyone hated him

They did. Except for his mother,
perhaps, because she's like him

If I were you, I'd take me off
your list of suspects

After all, I knew he had my diary

I knew that if anything happened
to him, you'd get the diary

I'd hardly be fool enough
to kill him, would I?

It's true, and I've already thought
about that

I must question these people,
especially Mademoiselle Lanson

We'll continue this conversation
at the police station

Take him to my office

I'll join you at the hotel

A kind of cow, in two letters

lo

Having questioned everyone,
I've reached certain conclusions

It's true, only an idiot
would commit a crime...

...in such circumstances

And you're very far from an idiot

A man in your situation
cannot have killed Paul Decourt

Unless he's being very clever
and playing the idiot

Go on

Suppose...

...you decided to arouse Decourt's
suspicions on purpose

You excite his curiosity,
let him find the diary...

...get him to take precautions
that will seal his doom

He'll think his hold over you will
prevent you from killing him

But he's wrong

The opposite happens

Yes, but it's only supposition

Let me go on

If one thinks of your diary as a
confession addressed to yourself...

...then you're right

It puts you above suspicion

But, reversing the proposition...

...suppose it's the motor element
in your crime

What do you think?

Nothing; go on

I think your diary was written
in order to be found

It was found

So Paul Decourt could then die

Yes, but wouldn't it have been
easier...

...if I'd used my pseudonym
for everything

You know we'd have connected you

But you knew you'd be cutting
the ground from under our feet...

...by acting openly, didn't you?

I'm afraid I must place you
under arrest

Now tell me...

...where's the bottle?

A boy is asking for you. He says he's
Philippe Decourt and it's urgent

Don't be afraid, Philippe

What is it?

Something to tell me?

The poison's in this

I hid it in the cellar,
under some rags

I killed daddy

Do you realize what you're saying?

Marc did nothing

Daddy was horrible and wicked

I got rat poison from the garage
and put it in his medicine

Daddy put the bottle back in the
medicine cupboard

Afterwards I took the bottle
and I hid it...

...because I was afraid of
fingerprints

Will you swear to this?

Look at me

You swear it's true?

You know you've ruined your life?

Do you?

Don't talk about it now

Tomorrow

I'll tell you everything tomorrow

I want to sleep now

Héléne darling, forgive me

Yesterday Philippe confessed
to murdering his father

I said nothing; I walked away
a free man

What a lovely revenge,
worthy of a Greek tragedy

A man kills a child,
his own child kills him

Poor Philippe, his hatred
almost equaled mine

Perhaps this mutual feeling...

...was what drew him to me

During our lessons I could have
told him how to kill his father

I'm sure he'd have jibbed at nothing

Perhaps he'd even have loved me more

Tell the Inspector that I'm to blame
and I alone

That Philippe confessed to save me

You see, I hated that dreadful man
so much...

...that I didn't want to sacrifice
my life

The Inspector was absolutely right

My diary served to make it seem
I'd failed

But really I'd succeeded

Forgive me

I can't let Philippe pay for me

I thought I'd become
as chill as steel...

...but the heart is slow to die

Don't let Philippe suffer

You must believe me; but for
all this, I'd have loved you

Now I'm going out to sea...

...far away, never to return

I'm going to disappear, Héléne,
vanish without trace

I was a coward yesterday

I was afraid of prison

I did not have the courage
to reject Philippe's sacrifice

So let me choose my punishment

One of Brahms' Serious Songs
paraphrases Ecclesiastes

The beast must die,
the man dieth also...

...yea, both must die

Farewell.