All language subtitles for Tales of Terror 1962 1080p BluRay Remux AVC FLAC1.0-KESH.EN 23.976

This is the beat of a human heart.

Sit very still and listen.

Is your heart beating in this same rhythm?

You are experiencing
the heartbeat of a dying man.

And it is with death and dying
that we concern ourselves.

What happens at the point of death.

What happens afterwards.

What happens after death

to someone who does not
choose to... stay dead?

Someone like... Morella.

Whoa.

Ma'am... I have to get back to Boston.

Yes. Leave the trunk here, then. I'll have
one of my father's servants carry it in.

Yes, ma'am.

Giddap.

Is anyone there?

Father?

Father?

Who are you?

Father?

- What?
- It's Lenora, Father.

You... are my father?

Yes.

What do you want here?

Shocked?

Disgusted?

No.

Are you all alone here?

I was... until you came.

- Father, I came to see you.
- Now you've seen me. Are you content?

That's all? That's all you have to say
to me after 26 years of separation?

- Father, I came all the way from...
- I know.

I know you don't love me, father,
that you put me from your life,

except for 21 years of
board and tuition money.

But I had hoped that we'd enjoy one brief visit
together before I left your life entirely.

I have no way of getting back to Boston
at the moment. May I stay?

Do as you wish.

Morella, my beloved wife,

your murderer has returned.

Get away from her.

Father, has she been lying here
all these years?

Do you hear me?

- Why did you come here?
- Don't touch me!

I'm not a helpless baby this time.
I'll go when I... when I choose.

When I...

Oh, my God! My God!
Why did I come here? Why?

- Try to understand.
- Oh, I understand.

No. You understand nothing.

You understand nothing!

When she died, I died with her.

All that remained of me was this...

this walking corpse,
this shell, this ghost of flesh.

She was my life.

And... I killed her.

- That's it, isn't it?
- Yes!

Oh, no.

No. She thought you did.
She said so on her deathbed.

She was so young.

So alive.

To die just a few months after giving birth
to you - she couldn't accept it.

I hated you.

Oh, dear God, how I hated you!

I wanted to kill you.

I went into your nursery
and I took you out of your cradle

and I almost hurled you
out of the window!

I wish you had.

What?

You're ill.

I have a few months left to live.

We're both dead now, Father.

I'm sorry.

In my 26th year, my father
is finally concerned about me.

Did you ever stop to wonder
just once in all those 26 years:

"Where is my daughter?
What is she doing? Is she happy?"

No.

Why should you wonder that?
After all, I'm only your child.

- I'll be leaving very soon.
- Lenora.

- No! No!
- Forgive me. Forgive me.

- No. No.
- Forgive me.

How long have you been alone?

I don't know, Lenora.

Go on, please. What happened then?

There's not much more to add.

It came as no surprise to me
that my marriage ended in failure.

I'd failed before in my relationships
with men, many times.

Many times.

I... cannot give, you see.

Yes.

How did she die, Father?

How did she die?

There was this party, and...

I knew that she was too weak
to withstand the strain of it.

Yet she insisted.

She had to have this party.

She had to dress up in her finest gown

and dance and sing.

Less than an hour
after the party had begun,

she collapsed.

I picked her up in my arms
and I carried her up to her bedroom.

I put her on her bed.

Her face was white.

Oh, dear God, how white!

She was enraged, furious!

Even dying, she was enraged.

"It was the baby," she said.

She swore she'd avenge herself.

"It was the baby." She kept saying it
over and over again. "It was the baby!"

And then...

before even the doctor could arrive,
she was dead.

Why did you not bury her?

I did, but I could not leave her there.

I could not.

The thought of
imprisoning her beauty in a box,

of putting her underneath the ground...

I was deranged, Lenora. Insane with grief.

I only wanted to kill myself.

I almost did kill myself, a dozen times.

I'll never know what kept me from it.

No, I... I could not bury her.

And now?

There's no reason not to do it now.

Will you stay for a while?

Please.

I know it's too late to make amends,

but perhaps together
we could find some sort of an answer.

Perhaps.

- Then you'll stay?
- If you really want me to.

Yes.

Then you've come home at last.

At last!

Help me!

Go away... Leave me...

Lenora, what is it? What can I do?

- Lenora, what's wrong?
- Let go...

Lenora!

Lenora!

Oh, no!

No!

How I envy you.

Sleep.

Now you are released.

Come back, Lenora. Come back.

Lenora?

Lenora?

Morella! Oh, my God!

Where's Lenora?
What have you done to her?

All these years I've waited to return.

All these years
I've waited to avenge myself.

And what is it that happens
just before death

which leads inexorably to that death?

Our second tale provides
one roguish answer to that question

in the story of a man who hated a cat:

The Black Cat.

Why don't you watch where I'm going?

♪ Who dat... knocking at the door?

Montresor?

Montresor?

Come down here.

And keep that beast away from me
or I'll kick his head in!

I want some money.

There is none, Montresor.

"There is none, Montresor."

Always lying, it's a fact.

As if I wouldn't know
you had more nest eggs than a chicken.

Get away from me,
you repulsive creature!

And stay away from me!

Where's my money?

There is none, Montresor.

All right.

I'll find it.

Oh! Montresor!

If you don't give me the money,
I have to find it myself.

Oh.

Oh, I know where it is.

I know.

If I ever catch you again, you mangy,
insufferable brute, I'll... I'll...

I'll tear your head off!

By the root!

Oh, you won't bite me.

Give me my money!

There is none, Montresor.
You haven't worked in 17 years.

Will you?

Has it been that long?

Oh, stop your silly tactics.
What about your sewing money?

- We need that for food.
- Food!

That's exactly what I want it for.
I drink my food!

Give me the money.

Thank you for looking into your heart.

We will starve now. That's all we have.

You've got a lot of money hidden
all around the whole house. I know that.

He was so romantic... once.

I said get out! And stay out!

You pig, you. You... you dog!

How dare you throw me out!

If only I had a pistol.

If I had a pistol, I'd...

I'd probably sell it
and buy myself more wine.

Oh, but really...

After all I've done for her,
she should have given me more money.

There's just no gratitude.

Sir, would you help a veteran
of the Revolutionary War?

Out of my way!

Pardon me, ladies, but could you
spare a coin for a moral cripple?

Disgraceful!

Do you have some money
for a dying man?

Go sleep it off.

No gratitude.

Hey.

I want money!

- Scum!
- You dirty money-grubber.

Just no gratitude.

No kindness.

Top of the morning, everybody!

My, what a nice bunch of gentlemen!

Look.Look.

Beautiful.

One moment, please.
Gentlemen. Quiet, everybody.

As we promised before,
a treat for everyone.

A demonstration in expert wine tasting
by none other than...

Mr. Fortunato Luchresi himself.

Bravo! Bravo!

As you know, gentlemen,

Mr. Luchresi is without doubt the foremost
wine taster in the civilised world today.

Huh?

That's nonsense!

I can tell the taste of any wine
just as well as he can.

Liar!

If we may proceed...

I said, I can tell the taste of any wine...
just as well as anybody!

Afraid to try me, huh?

You coward!

You poseur.

I say call the police!

One moment!

Please.

Sir, unless you are intent
on mere rabble-rousing,

you have just made a most grave
and serious accusation.

An accusation which I am prepared
to follow up with action.

That is, if you care to take the risk.

We will take the risk.

- Oh?
- Oh, yes, yes.

My name is Fortunato Luchresi,
at your service.

Montresor Herringbone!

What are we waiting for?
Bring on the wine.

Bring on the wine.

Pinot Noir, Burgundy,

Clos de Vougeot.

Vintage... 1838.

- Quite passable.
- Correct!

Give me more. Don't be so stingy.

Burgundy. Volnay, 1832. And...

it's from the better
slopes of the vineyard.

It's... it's very good.

Correct.

I don't believe it.

Mmm.

Mmm... Bordeaux... Cabernet...
Chateau Margaux.

Vintage... 1837.

A bit heavy for a Margaux.

Correct!

Mmm. Mmm!

Château Petit-Village...

1828.

It's very good.

Correct.

Well, I must say,
you seem to know your wine, sir.

I should, I should.

However, I feel I must comment on
your most unorthodox method of tasting.

Huh?

The accredited procedure is, of course,
to partake of a small mouthful, like this,

whoosh it around in the mouth like that,

and then inhale like this,

thus releasing the aroma...

You do it your way and I do it my way.

Châ...

Château...

Châ... teau...

Savignon!

It's very good.

♪ Who dat... who dat...

- ♪ Who dat... who dat...
- Please, sir.

- ♪ Knocking at the door?
- Please, sir. Please.

Am dat you, Sam?

- Couldn't you walk a bit more upright?
- A little upright?

- Yes.
- ♪ A little bit more upright...

♪ Who dat... who dat...

Am dat you, Sam?

Please, sir.

♪ Who dat...

Hey, why... why don't you
sing with me, Sam?

- My name is not Sam.
- But sing with me!

- ♪ Who dat...
- Shh, shh, shh.

I know the way. Follow... follow me.

Here I am, young and handsome.

- Oh!
- Oh.

I want you to meet a friend of mine.
A very good friend of mine.

The best friend I ever had
in the whole wide world.

What was your name, friend?

Luchresi.

Fortunato Luchresi
at your service, ma'am.

I am Annabel Herringbone.

I was just trying to help my friend home.

He had too much to drink!

Asseyez-vous, Sam.

No, really, I must be going.

Asseyez-vous, Sam.

Thank you.

Come on and sit down, friend.

Siddown!

- You... you live in the city, Mr. Luchresi?
- Yes. Yes, I do, Mrs. Herringbone.

My, what a lovely cat!

Well!

- You like cats?
- Oh, I adore them, yes.

I have several of my own at home.

He's... resting.

Yes, he's... resting.

Oh.

I think he's ill.

Oh.

I tell you this: With women...

with women you have to assert yourself.

Take my case, for instance.

I tell my wife to give me some money.
I want to go out for the evening.

Well, sir, it used to be
that she gave me trouble.

Argued with me and tried to withhold
what was rightfully mine.

But now she just gives me
all the money I ask for,

and I can stay away the entire night
doing exactly as I please -

which happens to be drinking.

- Since when?
- Since when?

Huh?

Seems to me...

since that day I went to
that wine sellers convention and met...

And he assisted me home and I...
I introduced him to my wife.

- Good night, my treasure.
- Good night, beloved.

Let me look at you again.

Until tomorrow night, heart of my heart.

Oh!

Good evening, dear.

You gave me such a start.

- Why?
- I didn't expect you home so early.

You didn't?

I thought it would be nice if I came home
early and we spent some time together.

But I see you've already gone to bed.

Oh, yes. I... I was very tired.

Exerting yourself?

Exerting?

I had a very strenuous day.

And a more strenuous evening, I assume.

I beg your pardon?

- Isn't it a little too late to beg my pardon?
- I... I don't know what you mean.

You lie! You dirty, faithless
little trollop, you!

You lie!

So you know.

How long has this been going on?

Long enough for me to realise that
our marriage is a farce, a mockery!

You can no longer
wound me with your cruelty.

I have found, at long last, love.

How touching.

Mock me if you will, but this is the end.
You and I are finished.

I'm going to leave you
and become Mrs. Fortunato Luchresi!

You are?

Congratulations.

Good afternoon, Mr. Herringbone!

- How very nice to see you again.
- And how nice to see you again!

- And how well you look.
- Thank you, sir. And yourself as well.

- Thank you. Come in.
- Thank you.

- After you, sir.
- Oh, thank you.

And how nice of you and Mrs., uh...
Mrs. Herringbone to invite me for dinner.

Oh, we're enchanted to have you, sir.
Most delighted, I assure you.

- Please.
- Thank you.

Ah, the cat!

The cat. What a charming fellow he is!

- Yes, isn't he?
- Yes. And is Mrs. Herringbone about?

Oh, yes. She's very, very busy
preparing our dinner.

- May I offer you some sherry?
- Oh, I'm delighted, sir. Delighted!

- Amontillado?
- That's correct, sir.

Ah, but what an amontillado!

A wine to conjure memories
of taste buds in transport.

I'm terribly happy you like it, sir.
To your health.

- And to yours, sir.
- Thank you, sir.

- A draught from paradise.
- That it is, that it is.

Let me fill your glass.
Look, mine is always empty.

- Well, I cannot resist.
- That I've noticed.

- I beg your pardon?
- No, nothing, nothing.

To your long life.

And to your long life, sir.

Right now I have a better chance
than you have.

- You spoke, sir?
- No, no. Nothing.

- Let me fill up your glass.
- Well, just a bit more.

Where did you get this...-
pardon me - this excellent wine?

Oh, I've had that in my cellar
for a long, long time.

- Indeed?
- Saving it for a very special occasion.

- Oh, today?
- Yes, sir.

- What occasion? Surely not my presence.
- That's part of it.

And what is the other part?

Your death.

What are you doing?

What are you doing?

I'll give you three guesses.

- Surely you can't mean to?
- Wall you in, yes.

- But why?
- Ask your treasure, your heart of hearts.

- What?
- Ask Annabel!

Annabel? I...

Ann... a... bel?

You... you killed her.

You notice everything, don't you?

Help!

Please, let me go. Help!

Don't make so much noise. I don't like it.

- You're insane!
- That may be, but... very clever.

The way I put that drug
in your amontillado

with the consummate skill of a Borgia.

And this whole arrangement.

- They'll never find you behind this wall.
- You can't mean it. You can't mean it!

Haven't I convinced you
of my sincerity yet?

I'm genuinely dedicated
to your destruction.

Help! Help!

Help!

What kind of a man are you, anyway?

Make love to my wife
and doesn't even talk to me!

It's an excellent jest, sir.

We'll have many a good laugh
about it in the future.

I Will. I Will.

God...

For the love of God, Montresor...

Yes.

For the love of God.

Nice professional job.

She must have it hidden somewhere.

Eureka!

Everybody back to the counter!
Montresor is buying again!

Gentlemen, let's have a toast, huh?

To my precious wife,

without whose money this most splendid
evening would be impossible.

Where she is now,
she won't need it anyway.

♪ Who dat knocking at the door?

Is dat you, Sam?

Argh! Argh!

Aaargh!

Give me back my head!

Keep that cat from my head, will you?!

Keep that cat from...

Give me back my head!

Aaaaargh!

Huh!

Go away!

I said... go away!

- Mr. Herringbone?
- Yes.

- We knocked, but no one answered.
- The door was ajar, so we looked in.

Then when we found the house
in such a state...

In such a state?

Oh, yes. I...

I remember I was searching
for something last night.

We thought there'd been some trouble,
so we came right in.

- Are you all right, sir?
- I'm all right!

We've received a report from a Mr. Wilkins.
He's the bartender at the Red Lion Tavern.

You know Mr. Wilkins.

Claims you spent a rather large
amount of money last evening.

Well, it's my own money.
Can't I spend my own money?

Further, that you said that your wife
wouldn't need the money where she is.

Might I ask, sir, where your wife is?

She's gone. She left with her lover.
I don't know where she is, nor do I care.

Are you ill, sir?

No, I... No.

You don't happen to have
a little whisky on you, boys, huh?

No, sir.

You see, I've had hallucinations lately.

Been drinking a little bit
too much last night.

I see. Do you mind, sir,
if we search the premises?

No. Where do you want to start?

I think... the cellar.

The cellar.

Oh. Are you coming down, Montresor?

- Did you hear anything?
- No.

- No.
- I didn't think so.

Well, here we go, gentlemen.

Yes. Come on down.

I...

I think I'll drink a
little less in the future.

Now he decides.

- Shut up.
- What?

Nothing, nothing.

I just keep mumbling.
I had too much to drink.

- We had better make a thorough search.
- Search?

Don't you find everything
all right and in order?

Go ahead, search everything
you want. I don't care.

Montresor! What a thing to say.

Naughty, naughty, Montresor.

Keep quiet!

Whoo-ooh!

Whoo-ooh!

Right behind here, Mr. Policeman.

We're
right behind the wall! Right behind it.

Are you blind, Mr. Policeman?

Whoo-ooh! You're not paying
attention. You're getting cold. This way.

Now are you satisfied?

What do you think?
I buried them down here?

That's exactly
what he did. Exactly!

Where would I have hidden them?
Under this floor?

Or... or maybe in that wall, huh?

Look! Look how solid it is!

Look at it! Look!

What in the name of God?

- You can hear it too?
- Hear it?

What's behind there?

Nothing. Nothing at all.

Well, we'll see.

What exactly is it that occurs
at the moment of death?

Especially to a man who,
in that moment, is not permitted to die.

As in the case of Mr. Valdemar.

There is no pain.

No...

Dairy.

You are at peace,

mind and body

at peace entirely.

Yes.

Then listen to the sound of my voice.

Carefully.

Pain vanished.

Mind and body in a state of peace.

You understand this, Valdemar?

I...

under... stand.

Then sleep.

Sleep.

Sleep.

When my hand passes across your face,

waken.

- Are you all right?
- Perfectly, my dear.

- The pain, it's gone?
- Vanished!

What is your finding, Doctor?

- Well, you seem to be in good condition.
- Seem to be? But I am!

Oh, come now. Admit the truth of it:
Mesmerism works! It works.

I've never doubted that it works, sir.
Only its advisability in certain cases.

It would certainly seem to be advisable
in the case of Mr. Valdemar.

Or would you have me suffer
untold agonies of pain

in order to observe
strict medical protocol?

- Ernest!
- My sweet Helene.

Forgive me, both of you,
for my most untimely sense of humour.

But this is a joyous moment.

Smile!

Come. Let us drink.

Let us drink to mesmerism,
the ministration of the gods.

I'm sorry, I can't drink to that.

Then drink to the health
of my beautiful wife.

- To the very good health of you both.
- And to Mr. Carmichael.

Sir.

How blessed to be free of pain.

For that part, sir,
I am truly happy. Please believe me.

It's for the other aspect of
mesmeric influence that I feel concerned.

- Which is, Doctor?
- Perilous toying with the human mind.

But, my dear Dr. James,
what is perilous about it?

Mr. Valdemar has received nothing
but advantage from its applications.

And, as we all know,
he is dying of an incurable disease.

- I wish you'd stop refer...
- Helene, Helene.

The issue must be acknowledged.

Within this skull -
as well you know, Doctor -

there is tissue which is dying
even as I speak.

I am physically doomed.

I do not say this
out of bitterness or despair.

However, there is one favour I would ask:

To escape a pitiful and painful
decline to death

through the auspices of Mr. Carmichael.

- Would you deny him this, Doctor?
- No, sir.

And yet, you know, he will accept
nothing for this blessing,

save some trifling favour on my deathbed.

- Sir?
- Favour, Ernest?

I should not even have
mentioned it. It's so slight.

No, please. I want to know.

Well, my dear, it's simply...

You tell them, sir. You can
explain it so much better than I.

Mr. Valdemar has consented
to be mesmerised in articulo mortis.

- Which is to say...
- At the point of death.

I fear it sounds
more dreadful than it really is.

What does it mean?

Ernest, why?

To ascertain just how long the actual
moment of death can be forestalled.

A momentous experiment.

Momentous? Monstrous
would be more the word!

Sir, I appeal to you, withdraw this offer.

The deathbed is no place
for lunatic experiments.

My dear young friend, what can it matter
whether I die 10 or 20 minutes

beyond that point
when I shall die at any rate?

What could be less important?

I owe this gentleman a great deal.
A great deal.

I could not dream of refusing him
such an insignificant request.

As you say, sir.

- I fear I must leave now.
- So soon? I am sorry.

Good night, Doctor.
Thank you for attending me.

My dear, show our friend
to the door, will you?

Yes, of course.

A bit more wine, Mr. Carmichael? Hm?

Oh! Thank you.

Elliot, this experiment...

Do everything in your power
to dissuade him from it, Helene.

I've no proof that it's dangerous, no proof
whatever. I only sense that it might be.

What is it, Elliot? Why is it that
since that man entered our life

I can't think, I'm uncertain...

Oh, he helps Ernest.
I can't argue with that.

He seems to relieve him of all pain. To see
him suffer is more than I can stand.

- But at the same time...
- You distrust Carmichael?

Yes, I do.

Still, it's true that he asks for nothing.

Perhaps he asks for nothing because
he desires everything - including you.

You can't be serious.

- You haven't seen him looking at you?
- Yes, but...

Of course I've no right to say this,
really, for I too look at you.

Elliot, please.

You know how I feel.
I love my husband and respect him.

- No more than I do.
- I know that.

So let us think of nothing else but Ernest
and our respect for him.

- Good night, Helene.
- Good night.

Ernest.

Hm? Oh. Yes, my dear?

Won't you reconsider?

- Regarding the experiment?
- I fear him.

Fear Carmichael? But, my dear,
think of the pain he has spared me.

If only you could see the change in him
when you're under his control, Ernest.

All the fawning ceases. He no longer
calls you Mr. Valdemar. It's just Valdemar.

- He tells you what to do, what to think.
- Please, my dear. No more.

Let us forget it.
It is established and of no importance.

What is important is you.
I wish with all my heart

that following my death
you would marry our good Dr. James.

No, no, no. Please, my dear. Let me finish.

I know that there is a bond between you.

All honourable. I know that too,
and I love you both for it.

But I... I am going to die soon, Helene,

and it would make me very happy
to know that you would not be alone,

that you would marry again.

Oh, my dear. Your happiness
means more to me than anything.

Anything!

But I refuse to die until
that happiness has been assured.

It... it approaches, does it not?

No pretence, please.

It approaches.

No, my dear. No sorrow. I...

I am content, believe me.

Have you informed Mr. Carmichael,
as I requested?

- He is below, sir.
- Then fetch him, if you will.

Quickly. Go quickly.

Have a care, sir.

So...

the time has come, Mr. Carmichael.

It will be to you, sir, I promise, no more
than sinking into a dreamless sleep.

Best hurry, Mr. Carmichael.

Now, no despair, I implore you.

It is peace I go to.

Freedom from this ghastly pain.

Your hand, Doctor.

I charge you this... upon your soul:

Watch over my Helene.

- Swear to it?
- I swear to it. Rest easily, sir.

I do now.

With all my heart I thank you...

for having added to my life
one great, sweet measure of devotion.

No...

You may proceed, Mr. Carmichael.

Look at the turning wheel,

at the changing of the colours,

and sleep.

Deep... deep sleep.

Your body losing all sensation.

Your mind enveloped in darkness.

Nothing can disturb you now

as you drift ever deeper
into darkness... and sleep.

Sleep...

Sleep...

Valdemar.

Do you hear me? It is my voice.

I... hear.

Are you asleep?

I... am... asleep.

Valdemar, raise your right arm.

Lower it.

Is there any pain?

No... pain.

I am... dying-

Oh!

Please... do not wake me.

Let me... die.

I will not wake you, Valdemar.

Deep... deep sleep...

from which there is no waking...

unless I say.

- You understand, Valdemar?
- I... understand.

You may examine him now if you wish.

Do you so fear me?

I have but released your husband
from his pain once more.

- Would you have had me do otherwise?
- No.

- Then do I... personally offend you?
- Please, Mr. Carmichael, not now.

Valdemar, return to your sleep.

Return to your sleep, Valdemar!

- I command you!
- Stop it!

Valdemar.

Do you hear me?

Do you hear the sound of my voice?

Are you asleep now?

I... have been... asleep.

But now... I am... dead.

You are asleep, Valdemar.

No.

Yes, yes, yes. You do but sleep.

Raise your right arm.

Raise it, Valdemar!

I command you! Raise your right arm!

He does not. He does not.

He is dead.

Yes, he is dead.

But still aware.

- Release him.
- Release him?!

Valdemar, do you hear me?

I hear.

Tell me, where are you?

Darkness.

- Stop it!
- That will do, Mr. Carmichael.

Where, Valdemar? Where?

Stop it!

- End the control, Mr. Carmichael!
- No!

Valdemar, tell me what you see.

- Your surroundings, what are they?
- That will do!

Are you insane?! Do you not comprehend
the import of what has happened?

His body is dead, but his mind
lives on, controlled by me!

- Which control will now end! Let him die!
- No!

Be gone!

Where am I?

What place is this?

I see only darkness.

People.

Multitudes of people.

No...

No-o-o-o!

No-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o!

Valdemar, be still.

Help me.

Be still, Valdemar.

I will let you go when I am finished.

Your whisky, sir.

Leave it there.

Get out!

Valdemar.

Valdemar, do you hear me?

Be still.

Be still!

Release me.

Release me.

Give me peace.

Be still!

Release me.

Let me go.

I will release you when I am ready.

- Good evening, Doctor.
- Good evening.

- Is Mr. Carmichael upstairs?
- Yes, sir.

Thank you.

Come. I promise you an end to it, Helene.

HOW?

Come.

Now, tell me this.

Come in.

- What can I do for you?
- I'm here to order you, Mr. Carmichael...

Not request, but order. You will end
the mesmeric control immediately.

- Will I, Doctor?
- You will.

And how do you propose
to enforce that order?

With this.

- You wouldn't dare.
- Do you choose to take that risk?

If you kill me, Valdemar will remain
in the same state indefinitely.

- Perhaps for ever.
- No!

- I shall count to three, then I shall kill you.
- Elliot!

- You must be out of your mind.
- One.

- No.
- Two.

- Elliot, no!
- Wait a minute.

- I want you to hear something first.
- Nothing from you, sir.

Did I say it was from me?

If you will, come with me.

Valdemar.

Tell them what you told me
just now, about Helene.

I do not wish
for her to marry Dr. James.

I wish for her to marry Mr. Carmichael.

- No!
- You heard him, madam.

- You control him. His words are yours!
- That is a lie!

- Is it?
- Yes!

Elliot, please, you must leave now.

- What?
- I want you to go.

- But that was not your husband speaking!
- It was his voice.

- But not his will!
- I don't know that.

- Helene, in the name of God!
- Elliot, please go.

There's nothing more to be said or done.
I just want you to go now.

Very well. But I shall be back.

And God help you
if you do her harm in any way.

- Well, madam?
- I believe Dr. James is quite correct.

It is not my husband
who would have me marry you.

- You heard him with your own ears.
- It was not him.

However, I will make a bargain
with you, Mr. Carmichael.

I'll marry you... upon the stipulation
that you set my husband free.

I need make no bargains
with you, madam.

- What?
- You will marry me in any case.

No. Not unless you end his torment.

Edicts, madam? Orders from you?
Allow me to enlighten you.

I am in command here.
You will do as I say,

or I will leave Mr. Valdemar
exactly as he is

and never, do you understand me,
madam?, Never let him go.

I've coveted you these many months,
hungered for you.

And now you shall be my wife.
I shall take what I desire.

- Your body and your soul, if I demand it!
- I've heard enough!

No! Stop it! Let me go!

Let me go! You're hurting me!

Help! Help me!

Let me go! Help! Help me!

No!

Argh!

Helene! Helene!

Ugh!