All language subtitles for Diary.of.a.Madman.1963.720p.BluRay.x264-SADPANDA

In His infinite wisdom,
the Lord has seen fit

to take from us
a just and courageous friend.

That Simon Cordier
in the prime of his manhood

should have come to his death as he did,

makes his passing even a greater shock

to those he has left behind.

As one of France's
most respected magistrates,

Simon Cordier dedicated his life
to the betterment of humanity.

All that Simon Cordier was
can be summed up in these words:

He was a good man.

May God have mercy on his soul.

Make him Eternal...

All those fine words. I'm glad he's dead.

Mr. D'Arville, Miss Jeanne.

It was Magistrate Cordier's wish
before he died

that we all assemble after the funeral.

My daughter and I are willing
to respect the wishes of the dead.

More so than if he were living.

We will see you at the gallery, then.

Yes.

Why Magistrate Cordier
should have entrusted this task

to my daughter and to me, I do not know.

Our feelings toward him are no secret.

As Father Borman knows,
this chest and the letter

were given to my daughter
by Magistrate Cordier

the night he died.

The letter written by the Magistrate
says that if he died that night,

then, this chest must not be opened
until immediately after the funeral.

But why would he think he might die?

Surely, it was an accident.

Father Borman, my investigation
proved that it was not suicide.

The letter requested that we be present
when the chest is opened,

since it involved matters
important to all of you.

The chest, Mr. D'Arville, please.

A book?

It seems to be a personal diary.

And a note.

"I speak to you from the grave."

"In the sanctuary of my coffin,
I can state certain facts

which I could not do while I was alive.

If I had attempted to do so
before my death,

I would have been judged insane,

and my warning to mankind
would have gone unheeded."

Warning?

What do you know about this?

Nothing, I swear it, Captain.

I did not know the Magistrate
even kept a diary.

That is the truth.

"Do not regard with cynicism
what you learn now.

Once you have heard
the contents of my diary,

the future will be in your hands.

God be with you,
for you will need His help."

Perhaps that is why the Magistrate
wanted you to be here.

Please, Mr. D'Arville, the diary.

September 17, 1886.

The strange events
which occasion me to begin this diary

started three days
before the murderer Louis Girot

was to go to the guillotine.

And police captain Rennedon
came to my chambers at the tribune.

Oh, Captain.

Is Magistrate Cordier busy?

He's just come from the court.

Come in.

Captain Rennedon, sir.

Oh, tell him to come in.

- Well, Robert.
- Simon.

This is a pleasure, unless, of course,
you've brought me trouble.

I don't think I have, considering your
endless studies of the criminal mind,

which I'll never understand.

It concerns Louis Girot.
He wants to talk to you.

Oh, does he want to change
the testimony he gave at the trial?

A strange fish, Girot.

It's hard to tell what he wants.

Well, he goes to the guillotine
in three days.

Perhaps it's his conscience.

A confession?

Maybe. It is possible.

As you say, he is a strange fish.

Girot murdered four people,
without motivation.

He didn't know any of them.
He didn't rob them.

He just killed.

Yes, the case is most perplexing.

Which means that you're curious
enough to see him.

To me, a thief is a thief,
a murderer is a murderer.

Life is much simpler that way.

- Shall we go?
- Yes.

There we are.

I'd better go in with you.

No, he might talk more if we were alone.

All right, I'll wait here. Guard.

Magistrate Cordier, thank you for coming.

It's the only hospitality I can offer you.

Captain Rennedon believed

you might be ready
to make a statement, Girot.

A statement? Perhaps.

But what is it you want me to say?

Something I did not say at the trial?

If there is truth in it.

Can't you understand, Magistrate?

I told the truth at the trial.

I swear to you.

It was something that... that used me.

Just as if it took my body
and made me murder.

Please, Girot, you seem to be
a man of some intelligence.

And in three days, my intelligence
will be chopped off at the neck.

Do you think that I would go on lying,

knowing that I'm going to die?

But a man doesn't kill four people
without reason.

It was a thing that possessed me
that had the reason.

It lives on evil
and grows stronger and stronger.

Please, Girot, sit down.

I didn't even know until afterward
that I had killed.

It had control of my mind.
I had no will of my own.

It forced me to murder.

I couldn't accept this testimony before.

Do you expect me to believe it now?

I had never thought that hatred is evil.

- Hatred is evil.
- But that's in you.

And it used that to feed on my will
until it owned me.

Girot, I'm sorry, I had hoped
you'd be able to give me some...

But do you know why
I never asked for a new trial?

I want to die.

Because so long as I live,
the thing can make me kill again.

Girot, what is it? Your eyes...

It can even make me...

kill you!

Girot!

Guard!

He tried to kill me.

I warned you, murderers,
they're all the same.

Humanity would be much better off
without them.

Call the doctor, hurry!

Is he badly hurt?

There'll be no need
to chop in the guillotine.

Dead?

But it was so sudden.

One moment he was
completely rational, and then...

This is terrible, Robert, I...

If anything, I wanted to help him.

You had to defend yourself.
It was an accident.

Besides, I'd say you did help him.

This is a much easier way to die.

For the next two days, I returned
home from my work at the court

with the death of the murderer Girot
still on my mind.

Despite Rennedon's assurance
of my innocence,

somehow the accident still disturbed me,

and I could not rid myself
of the depression

that weighed so heavily.

- Good evening, sir.
- Good morning, Pierre.

Sir, I'll tell you Louise's secret.

She's preparing your favorite dinner,
baked lamb!

Oh, that's fine, but I...
I think I need a cognac before.

- In the study, please.
- Yes, sir.

Well, Kiki, you're in fine voice.

You must have been practicing all day.

And just because you've been
so industrious,

you, too, are going
to have a special dinner.

There you are.

Pierre!

Sir.

Why did you put this back in here?

I...? But I haven't even seen it
since you...

Would I do such a thing?

But it was hanging there
on the wall, Pierre.

Who's been in the house?

Only Louise and myself.

Pierre, what is it? What has happened?

I... I'm not sure.

You remember the large photograph
of Mrs. Cordier and the boy?

Oh, the one that used to be in the study?

It was back there tonight.

But how could that be?

It was put away in that trunk
with the other things.

Yes.

"Hatred is Evil."

Those were Girot's words.

Sir?

Pierre.

Somebody must have been up here.

First, the picture, and then...

then the writing on the pedestal.

Writing?

Yes, in the dust there.

It was there!

Perhaps it's just the light.
You only thought that...

Pierre, I'm not in the habit
of seeing things that do not exist.

Of course not, sir.

Why is this happening?

They've been dead so long.

I thought the past was behind me.

I put the cognac in the study, sir.

Thank you.

- Well?
- It's very strange.

He looks so pale. Perhaps he's ill.

I'll see if he'll have dinner.

Sir, shall I tell Louise to serve dinner?

Pierre, you had ample time to know
Mrs. Cordier well before she died.

Why, yes, sir.

You know that both she and the boy
meant a great deal to me.

Of course, sir.

Perhaps memories are suddenly
unlocked in a man's mind.

And he has dreams, nightmares.

I can only surmise

that such memories of my wife
and my son have returned.

Pierre, after I have gone
to sleep at night,

have I ever left my bedroom?

I'm not sure I understand, sir.

But I mean sleepwalked,
wandered in my sleep

because of a dream, a nightmare...

I don't know, sir.
Our room is in the other wing.

I must have.

There has to be a logical explanation.

Tell Louise that I'll have
my dinner shortly.

Yes, sir.

My wife and son
have been dead for 12 years.

Why should these strange things
be happening,

now, only since the death of Louis Girot?

- Good morning, Martin.
- Good morning, sir.

Would you bring me
the Costane brief, please?

- Yes, sir.
- Thank you.

- The Costane brief, sir.
- Thank you.

Did you have any reason
for leaving this here?

"Trial testimony of Louis Girot..."

The prisoner who...
who died the other day?

No, sir, I didn't take it out of the file.

It was on my desk.

The office was locked.

Could you have put it there
before you left last night?

Yes.

Yes, that's possible.

Perhaps I was so upset by what happened,

I didn't remember.

Yes, sir, it must have been
most unnerving.

Yes, that will be all, Martin. Thank you.

Martin, will you find
the superintendent of the building?

I want you to ask him
if anyone of the cleaning people

could have taken the Girot testimony
from the file.

- Immediately, sir.
- Thank you.

Is someone here?

Magistrate Cordier.

Since Louis Girot is dead,

you have no further use for his papers.

You deprived me of Girot's body,
his mind, his will.

Now I will have yours.

What's the matter with me?

Can I be as sick as Girot?

I was determined to take
my place on the bench that day,

despite the fears I had for my sanity.

But suddenly, I felt I couldn't go on.

It was impossible for me to concentrate.

I hadn't even heard
the arguments of the attorneys.

I knew I would have to call a recess
and leave for the day.

Very interesting, Magistrate.

I've been waiting patiently
to see what you would write.

You still think I exist only in your mind.

Men's logic has always denied
my existence.

Since we have only begun
to know each other,

perhaps we should
come closer to the truth.

Rise, Simon Cordier.

Life and death are the only truths.

Everything else is illusion.

Yourself...

Your love for a useless bird in a cage.

Death is a truth, Magistrate.

Prove it.

Prove it now!

Kiki, where are you?

How did you get out?

How does one explain
what one cannot see, Dr. Borman?

I hear this voice as though
someone is in the room with me.

But I am alone. No one else is there.

And it was this voice
that urged you to kill your pet?

Well, how else can I explain it?

The photograph, the writing in the dust,

the trial testimony on your desk,

the overturned inkwell, and the voice...

Do you feel they are all related?

Somehow, yes, yes.

It is you who relate them,

for they are all
from your own imagination.

Science does not accept gnomes,
ghosts, demons, images of evil.

The things you've told me

about the tragic death
of your wife and son,

the abnormal loneliness you've
lived in for the past 12 years...

No, thank you.

A man can torture himself
just so long that it must end,

or the mind will break under the strain.

I'm not sure what you mean.

- You want my help.
- Yes.

Will you do as I say?

Now, Doctor, if there's hope,
I'll do anything.

A doctor always has hope.

Hope of curing his patient,
hope that his bill will be paid.

Of course there's hope.

Then, I've come to the right man.

I've never had reason before
to go to an alienist.

However, I can't cure you.

- You have to cure yourself.
- Oh?

You have to change your life.

Get out of yourself.

Never submit to loneliness.

You said you used to sculpt?

In my younger days,
I was quite interested in art.

Fine. Become interested again.

Get away from this existence
you've been leading.

Associate with people in the art world.

Find something to sculpt
and start sculpting.

Take a vacation from your work.

Doctor, I have so many cases
at court, I...

I can only give you the prescription.

The medicine, you must take yourself.

Well, thank you. Talking to you
has been most reassuring.

I can't tell you how relieved I am.

Then, I've served my purpose.

Let me hear from you again in a few weeks.

- Good-bye.
- Good-bye, Doctor.

Red wine! Red wine!

How emotional, sensual, huh?

Nudes that like nudes!

You know what's the matter with you?
You're a woman!

And you know what's the matter with you?

You're a pig!

- I'm a pig? I'm a pig?
- You're a pig!

Who taught you all you know about...?

Why don't you buy me, sir?

It will be an act of charity.
The artist could use the money.

You're the model, aren't you?

Would you believe that I know
nothing at all about ballet?

No. Well, then, either you have
the natural grace of a dancer

or the artist gave it to you.

You are an artist?

Well I... I like to sculpt.

Oh, sculptors are always covered
with clay and stone dust and...

and have no money.

Perhaps amateurs are more fortunate.

Oh? Then, perhaps, you have
enough money for me to pose for you.

Do I not inspire you?

Yes, I think so.

Let me see.

A Greek goddess perhaps.

Oh, so serious.

Of course.

- Why not Heinrich Heine, then?
- Who?

Heine. He once wrote a wonderful poem.

It was called "Woman".

Oh, I didn't think any man knew women.

Each of the four stanzas
is about a different situation

going from gaiety to tragedy,

and yet, each of the stanzas
ends with the same words:

"And she laughed."

'Cause I think you would always laugh.

And that is the way
you would like to sculpt me?

As a girl who can laugh at life?

Yes.

Good. For your laughing woman,

I shall charge you
10 francs an hour to pose.

Agreed.

You're not going to haggle over the price?

No, it's very reasonable.

Here's my address.

I'll expect you this evening at 8:00

so we can begin the preliminary sketches.

My name is Odette Mallotte.
I shall be there.

- Good-bye, Odette.
- Good-bye.

Simon Cordier.

Magistrate...

Good afternoon.

- Oh, Odette.
- Jeanne.

How are you, Odette?

I've seen bigger crowds than this.

There are always more customers at night.

Well, let's hope they show
more enthusiasm than these.

It doesn't matter.
I have faith in Paul's work.

After all, Odette,
it is Paul's first show.

It takes time for an artist
to become popular.

Of course, Jeanne.

We all have Paul's interests
at heart, don't we?

He's in the office having coffee.

Oh, hello, darling.

I thought there would be more
customers by the time you got here.

Six rich ones are better
than twenty poor ones.

- Anybody buy?
- Yeah, the small seascape.

The one where I posed on the rock?

30 francs.

30 francs?

Oh, Paul.

Paint, canvas, a frame?

Your time and my time for 30 francs?

Well, the larger ones will bring more.

Oh, what is Andre doing,
trying to sell them by the yard?

Well, at least
I'm going to make some money.

- You?
- I have a job, posing.

When you married me, you said
you'd give up posing for anyone else.

I didn't say I'd give up eating.

Well, at least we starve together.

Odette, you know how much I love you.

Oh, love!

Love! A man says the word so easily!

Do I have to wait until you're an old man

before I can get a new dress,
until I can feel like a woman again?

Have I ever failed
to make you feel like a woman?

10 francs an hour.

We need the money, Paul.

Who is this artist
who can afford so much money?

You're jealous? Yeah, my husband?

Yes.

You worry too much.

What man could know me better than you?

There, for luck.

Sell a lot of paintings,

and we'll share a bottle of wine
when I return, all right?

- Mrs. Mallotte?
- Yes.

Come in, please.

I'll tell Magistrate Cordier
that you are here. Please.

8:00 exactly. You are most prompt.

Oh, well, the time of a magistrate
is important.

And is your time not important?

Oh, the more I look at clocks,
the more they keep saying,

"Here it is tomorrow already,
and you're a day older."

Only at my age is each day so valuable.

Where do you work?

The studio is upstairs. Come.

When he brought home the clay
and said to clean up the attic,

I knew everything
was going to be all right.

- She's beautiful.
- Yes.

It's been a long time

since we've seen a woman
go up those stairs.

Oh, how nice!

It'll be a pleasure to pose for once
in a studio that isn't drafty.

Most artists can't even afford heat.

Well, the house is quite old
but very well built.

I think my ancestors
demanded their comfort.

Are those were the ones who frowned
at me in the hall downstairs?

The portraits?

I assure you, they frown at everyone.

Is your laughing lady to laugh with
or without her clothes on?

No, it won't be a nude.

Oh, that's right.

There should be nothing to detract
from the expression on her face.

You know quite a good deal
about art, don't you?

One listens, one learns.

Where shall I pose?

Oh, I'm sorry, right here.
The light is best here.

All right.

Let's see.

You want the head, throat,
and bare shoulders.

Yes.

I'm afraid I've forgotten
how to compliment a beautiful woman.

I hope perhaps the clay
will be able to do it for me.

There. Down a little.

Now, the expression, Odette.
The expression. Gaiety.

Think of something to laugh about.

Oh, that's simple.
Life is full of things to laugh at.

There!

There, that's it. That's the expression.

Now, keep it just like that.

The sketches are finished, and I have
begun the actual working of the clay.

My eagerness to capture
Odette's laughing quality,

which is gay yet strangely enigmatic,

has found me sculpting
for long hours without realizing it.

But the girl has held the difficult
pose without complaining.

It is indeed flattering that she shares
my dedication to the work.

The nightmares have not returned,
and I feel so much better now.

It is as if all the dark corners
of my mind

have been filled with bright sunlight.

There! We've done it.

We've brought highness point to life.

You are the laughing woman.

Why not? Heine was writing
about me all the time.

It's good! It's really good!

I am now immortal.

You have created me.

You are my master, and I thank you.

You really like it? I hoped you would.

But what happens to me now?

Do I stay up here like all the rest
of your statues to gather dust?

No, that wouldn't give her much
to laugh about, would it?

Perhaps you should do something new

to keep her company.

Oh, what would you like?

Oh, I don't know.

Oh, of course. A life-size figure of me.

Then, she could look at herself,
and you would know why she's laughing.

You don't take yourself
seriously at all, do you?

Now you've returned
to being the magistrate

who wants to know about people.

Why should you want to know about me?

I've posed, the work is finished.

I will leave.

Sometime I might just do
that life-sized figure of you.

Tonight you think that. Tomorrow...

You know what I am?

Perfume.

Your 10 francs an hour bought it.

And that is all you will remember of me.

The scent of a perfume
that was once in this room.

No, really, Odette, I...

Sensitive enough to be an artist.

Strong enough to be a man
who can judge others.

You're an unusual man, Simon.

That is what I will remember of you.

Thank you, Odette. You're very kind.

When you told me your wife
had died many years ago,

I thought, "How fine she looks.

She must have meant a great deal to him."

And yet, you keep her locked away up here.

I've wondered why.

It was the way she died.

She wasn't buried from the church.

But surely she must have been
a good woman.

She took her own life.

And you never forgave her.

I...

It was in the past.

Perhaps she didn't know
how to laugh at herself.

Odette, I'm grateful to you
in more ways than you know.

I think I will miss this attic.

If I have another idea
for a new work, I'll call on you.

Now, the coach is waiting.

- Good-bye, Simon.
- Good-bye, Odette.

What is it, Magistrate?

Are you wondering how so important a man

can fail to see himself in a mirror?

Now, come, Simon Cordier,
you should know by now

that I am real, that I am not a dream.

Common sense should tell you
that the reason you can't see yourself

is that someone stands
between you and the mirror.

What?

I am that someone.

That should assure you
that my physical being is quite solid,

even if your eyes can't see me.

That's not possible.

I do not believe it.

You are there!

Then, why can't I see you?

Calm yourself, Magistrate.

I will give you back your reflection.

You see, as good as new.

Tell me what's happening.

Are you human?

That depends on the point of view.

If you mean, do the Horla live
on the earth as you do?

Yes, you are not the sole inhabitants.

The Horla?

But if you are here...

We have always been
We just exist on different planes.

We can move into your plane
only when you make it possible.

I don't understand.

How could I have made it possible?

Through evil, Magistrate.

But I have fought evil all my life.

The great Magistrate,

the dispenser of justice for one and all.

You're a murderer, Simon Cordier.

I have never murdered anyone!

This was your victim, Magistrate.

You drove her to suicide.

You tortured her mind
until she took her own life.

No.

She was innocent,
yet you judged her guilty.

You blamed her for the death of your son.

Forgive me.

Now I am here, and I will never leave you.

Why? What do you want?

Your will, Magistrate.

Your evil has delivered you to me.

I've paid for my sins.

You thought your loneliness
was repentance for your wife's death.

All it did was make you vulnerable.

Look, Magistrate. Look at the clay
you finished sculpting tonight.

You wanted to believe that your model
was what she pretended to be.

But this is what she really is.

You see evil in everything!

Only where it exists.

No. No, she is as I saw her.

Pierre! Pierre, come up here at once.

- What is it?
- I don't know.

Sir?

Pierre.

The clay. Tell me, what do you see?

Why, it's changed, sir.

Yes. Yes, I wanted you to see.

But why, sir? Why is it changed?

Thank you, Pierre. That will be all.

Leave me alone now, please.

All my life I had sought knowledge,

and now I was granted knowledge
rarely granted other men.

No more hideous fact could have
been conceived to terrify my mind.

The Horla really live.

They cannot be seen.

Still, they are tangible,
composed of solid matter.

And only the Lord knows

if they are flesh and blood as we are.

Why are they here?

Why has their evil
been turned loose upon the earth?

You tremble, Magistrate? Why?

Perhaps I will be
a gentle and kind master.

Get out! Leave me alone!

But I want to help you.

There. No reason we shouldn't
be comfortable, is there?

You do not believe
that the woman who posed for you

is without a heart,

that your riches, your position,
are the goal of her evil ambition.

It makes no difference.
I'll never see her again.

Don't you want to prove that I'm wrong?

The woman means nothing to me.

She will.

What are you saying?

You will pursue her, Magistrate.

You will seek to create love
where there is no love.

No, I will not. I tell you, I will not!

Your will obeys me from this moment on.

You have no choice.

She is a vain woman, Magistrate.

The painting of her,
the one that brought you together,

it would appeal to that vanity.

I thought I'd never live to see it,

the face of another woman
where Mrs. Cordier's had been.

There are so many strange things
happening in this house.

They're coming.

And you won't tell me
what the surprise is?

Well, why spoil it?

Seeing you this soon again
was enough of a surprise.

Did you really think
I'd let you get away so easily?

I thought you were only interested
in clay women.

- Good afternoon, sir.
- Good afternoon, Pierre.

Tell Louise that we'll want
her finest dinner, and champagne.

- '81 was a good year.
- Yes, sir.

Champagne? You're filled with surprises.

Well, I want this to be
a most memorable day.

The suspense is positively unbearable.

My painting!

Oh, Simon, why? Why did you buy it?

Well, it was such
an ugly empty space there.

Well, I think it's quite decorative,
don't you?

Well, is that the only reason
you brought me here, to get my opinion?

Well, can you think of a more charming
audience for such a charming painting?

I'm overwhelmed.

Well, then, perhaps
this memorable day will...

will lead to many such days.

I'm not sure what you mean.

Well, it's really quite simple.

You see, after you left here last night,

I suddenly realized
that both the house and my heart

were quite empty.

Oh, and yesterday I thought
I'd never see you again.

Oh, Simon, you...

you gave me no indication
that you felt this way.

And I realize that I'm much older
than you are.

Oh, no, please, I'm flattered.

Can't you understand?

All those weeks we were together,
I was the one who cared.

Very well, then, defendant,
how to you plead?

I don't know whether
I'm innocent of guilty feelings

or guilty of innocent feelings.

Are you wondering
if I am proposing marriage?

- Marriage?
- Would you accept less?

Oh, Simon, I...

I only know I love you.

Then, I will pronounce the sentence.

Turn around, turn around.

Oh, Simon.

Oh, Simon, it's lovely.

Thank you, Simon.

Would it answer your question
if I told you that that cameo

once belonged to my wife?

Oh, Simon.

When she came home last night,
she was a stranger to me,

as though I had never known her.

Nothing I said made any difference.

She just laughed when I told her

that the ballet painting
had been sold for 100 francs.

You mean she's already taken
the new apartment?

Yeah, moved into it this morning.

Oh, Paul, I'm terribly sorry.

Am I supposed to accept it?
What do I do, Jeanne?

She always wanted so much.

Why couldn't she have waited
for your success?

As you would?

She's my wife, not a friend.
There's a difference.

Yes, there's a difference.

I found this in her dresser drawer
after she'd moved.

A magistrate?

Yes, a rich man, a man of position.

Who else do we know
could afford 10 francs an hour?

But how can you be sure?

When she left,
she said she was going to have

all the things I could never give her.

I didn't know what she meant then.
I do now.

Paul, she's still married to you.

Yes.

And as long as she is,
that's the one thing he can't give her.

To my future wife,
who taught me how to laugh again.

Simon.

Simon, would it matter very much to you

if we didn't announce the wedding
just yet?

Wait? But why?

Well, there's something
I must take care of first.

But surely there's nothing
so important that...

Oh, Simon, trust me, please.

Of course, my dear.

But I wanted to open our place
on the lake at Lucerne.

The weather is still fine,
and our honeymoon could be...

Oh, darling, I promise you, nothing will
stop us from having that honeymoon.

Pardon, sir, there's someone to see you.

- At this hour?
- Mr. Duclasse.

Duclasse, the artist?

Yes.

Well, have him wait.

What is it, Odette?

I wanted to have it settled
before I told you.

Well, does Duclasse mean anything to you?

He is my husband.

Oh, Simon, we're separated.

I've told him I'll never go back to him.

Simon, I don't want to go
through another scene with him.

I understand.

Good evening, Mr. Duclasse.
This way, please.

You were the one who bought the painting.

Oh, be assured,
I am an admirer of your work.

And of my wife.

Well, then, we have much in common.

Won't you sit down?

You do admit
you are the reason Odette left me.

I do not.
I only know that she had left you.

I want you to leave her alone.

But, Mr. Duclasse, Odette is no child.

She has made a choice.

Choice? And what did she choose?

This big house, your money.

I sympathize with you.

But I prefer to believe
that she has found it possible

to think of me as a man she wants.

And if I refuse to give you the divorce?

Do you really think
it would make any difference?

She has already intimated to me
that she prefers me on any terms.

I could kill you for that.

You are in my house,
and I am trying to be as kind as possible

under the circumstances.

I don't need your kindness, Magistrate.

Well, what else have I to offer you?

I love Odette, and I will not give her up.

And what of your fine reputation
if this were made public?

Are you threatening me?

Yes.

Think about it, Magistrate.

He will be trouble, Simon. Kill him!

Kill him? No!

No, you cannot make me commit murder!

What happened?

It almost fell on me.

I'm sorry. It was an accident.

It would have been a most
convenient accident, wouldn't it?

Mr. Duclasse, I...

Those urns have been up there
since the house was built.

How could it have fallen?

It's all right, Pierre.

You may clean this up in the morning.

Yes, sir.

- I'm frightened, Pierre.
- Shh.

You tried to kill him.

No, we are not ready for his death yet.

That was merely to show you
how simple killing can be.

As simple as crushing the life
from a bird.

But you cannot make me take a human life.

Not as long as there is
a shred of my will left.

You've already started to murder him

by taking the one thing he loved.

The time will come, Magistrate,
and you will end his agony.

No!

Has Paul gone?

Yes. Odette, we can't stay here.

I want to leave Paris.

Tell me that you'll come
to Lucerne with me now.

But what of Paul?

Well, I have some influence.
Perhaps I can arrange an annulment.

We'll be married in Switzerland.

But I want to leave this house
as soon as possible tomorrow.

Can you be ready?

Oh, Simon, what is it?
Is Paul causing trouble?

Please, tell me, will you go?

Of course, Simon. I'll be ready.

The servants will leave immediately.
There's a train at midnight.

They'll have the villa ready for us
by the time we get there.

We'll leave on the morning train.
I'll pick you up at 10:00.

We'll be happy, Simon. I know we will.

We must take whatever happiness
we can, Odette.

That's all we can do.

Come.

You're here, aren't you?

You've been here all the time.

You must admit that patience is a virtue.

Are you running from me, Magistrate?

Yes!

The human body is so fragile.

It withers and dies so easily,
as a flower does.

Do you think that by putting distance
between yourself and Paul Duclasse,

that I can't make you kill him?

You say the Horla exist as people do?

Very well, then, your powers
must be limited as ours are.

Do you think that I'll let you run

so that you can share your life
with that woman?

I will not be stopped.

You'll share nothing!

As this rose is destroyed,
so can I destroy your resistance.

Every thought you think,
your senses, your will,

they belong to me to use as I wish.

No more bullets left, Magistrate.

The woman is useless to us,

as useless as any dead thing.

What are you saying?

A dead thing owns nothing,

possesses no one, Magistrate.

That is what she must be.

I can't.

I can't.

A dead thing, Magistrate.

Who is it?

Odette, I must talk to you.

Paul, go away. Leave me alone.

You're my wife! You owe me this much!

All right, all right! Stop it!
You'll break down the door.

Odette, I...

Where are you going?

- None of your business.
- You...

You're going with him?

My things!

My things! Get out!
You're not gonna spoil it for me!

Odette, I can't let you do this
to either of us.

I'd rather see you dead.

Doesn't it matter what I want?

Maybe I should feel sorry for him.

You'll bleed him dry,
take every cent he's got,

and meanwhile be looking for another man
with even more money.

Yes. Yes, that's exactly what I'll do.

Are you satisfied?

Yes, I'm satisfied that I'm a fool
and that he's a bigger one.

Why, Simon, I didn't expect...

No!

- Good morning, Magistrate.
- Good morning, Master.

I expected Pierre.

Pierre and Louise have left
for my place in Switzerland.

Please forward my mail there
until I notify you.

- I'll be very glad to, sir.
- Thank you.

Blood?

Odette?

No!

You murdered her!

You're quite wrong, Magistrate.

You killed her.

It was your hand.

No!

Can you deny the evidence
you've hidden in the clay?

I couldn't have done it.
I never left the house!

That's right, Magistrate.

I'm the only one who knows
you left here last night.

You're quite safe, I assure you.

I didn't do it. I didn't kill her.

The murderer Girot
never thought he killed either.

Had you learned to love her, Magistrate?

- Father.
- What is it?

The police, they've arrested Paul.

Paul? For killing Odette?

But why? I don't understand.

The landlady identified him.

She heard him arguing with Odette.
There was a struggle.

Paul wouldn't have done it. He loved her.

The police will learn the truth, Jeanne.

We know that Paul is innocent.
They will find it out.

He doesn't even have money
for a good lawyer.

Whatever we have will be his
if he needs it.

Helen, if only it was
in my power to bring you back.

So that I could tell you
how meaningless my life became

when you were no longer with me.

Tragedy can blind the judgment of a man.

I know you would understand that.

What is it, Magistrate?
Are you talking to memories now?

Do you think she can hear you?

My heart has spoken to her many times.

Yes, she can hear me!

Fool. Do you expect me
to have patience with sentiment?

You had no reason to do that!

You were only talking
to your conscience, Magistrate.

You're still a murderer.

And if I am, then I will not let
an innocent man die

for something I did.

On the contrary.

Paul Duclasse will go to the guillotine.

Haven't you done enough?

Why should I let them
execute you, Magistrate,

when you serve my purpose so well?

Cover your victim with this.

I...

I can't, I can't!

You think I'm so stupid
as to let the police find it?

The grave is waiting.

Do as I say.

To the back of the garden, Magistrate.

You see, I can be most accommodating.

The grave is already dug.

You used clay to make her like this.

She returns to clay.

When the grave is filled,

we will remove the last vestige
of the woman from your life.

The painting, Magistrate.
It, too, must be destroyed.

Leave me alone! Let me have peace!

I doubt whether such art
is meant for immortality.

Burn it.

No. No, I've done enough.

There's the fire. You burn it.

You heard what I said.

Do as I say. Burn it!

The police, Magistrate.

You will tell them
only what I want you to tell them.

- Robert.
- Good evening, Simon.

Come in, come in.

It is not often that I am honored
by your presence.

A policeman isn't supposed
to have time for his friends.

If it isn't one thing, it's another.

Now, this stupid murder.

Oh, yes, yes. It's a terrible thing.

A glass of wine, Robert?

No, I can only stay a minute.

Oh, then, this isn't a social call.

Yes and no. I have to ask a favor of you.

Oh? Well, sit down.

This murderer Duclasse,
he wants to talk to you.

To me? But whatever for?

Well, he seems to have the idea
that you'll help him.

But I don't even know the man.

Many people know your reputation
as a man who works hard for justice.

Oh, I see.

Frankly, Simon, I don't think
anybody can help him.

We have the testimony of his landlady

and other people in the house
who recalled his wife.

End earlier this morning we found
the murder weapon hidden in his bedroom.

The examining magistrate
already has the case.

Yes, he says there's no doubt about it.

Everything points to Duclasse
as the killer.

Might be very interesting.

Still studying the criminal mind.

It's a fascinating subject, Robert.

Bring Duclasse to my chambers.
I'll talk with him.

I can see you've earned
your reputation honestly.

Tomorrow, noon.

- Good night, Simon.
- Good night.

Oh, Captain.
Magistrate Cordier is waiting.

Go right in, please.

Magistrate, this is the man, Duclasse.

Sit down, Duclasse.

I thought you would see me alone.

You're lucky to be seeing him at all.
Say what you have to say.

What makes you think
I can help you, Duclasse?

Because you know I wouldn't kill Odette.

How can you assume such a thing?

I don't know you.

You knew my wife well enough.

- Duclasse!
- Please, Captain.

Under what circumstances
could I have known your wife?

Are you denying
that you wanted to marry her?

This is preposterous, Duclasse.
You're making a grave mistake.

Liar! What are you trying to hide?

That you would take
another man's wife away?

That's enough, Duclasse! Guards!

I didn't kill Odette!

Duclasse.

If you think these accusations

will influence the court
to declare you insane,

you are quite mistaken.

- Take him away.
- I won't let this rest!

I didn't kill Odette! I didn't kill her!

I didn't kill her!

You see, Simon?

What is there to understand
about the human mind?

A person becomes evil.

How? Who knows?

He is evil, so society must crush him
as if he were a bug.

You think your studies are profound.

I think that the only profound thing
is the guillotine.

When I come across
such a brutal killer as Duclasse,

I begin to think you're right.

We must get together some evening
and discuss our points of view.

Can it be only his reputation
he's afraid of, Jeanne?

To deny knowing Odette or me.

Perhaps I had begun to hate Odette,
but I never would have killed her.

Paul, Magistrate Cordier
wouldn't let an innocent man die

just to save his own reputation.

Well, you should have seen him.

There was no sympathy in him, nothing.

It was as if there were
no feeling of any kind.

I don't even see any grief
for Odette in him.

We're doing everything we can, Paul, and
somehow we're going to find out the truth.

I know how much you and your father
are trying to help me,

and I'm very grateful.

We don't want to lose you.

How can a man be such a fool
about what is right?

It's like an artist who wants
to say something fine on a canvas

and only paints the things
that blind his eye.

Oh, Paul.

I wanted to kiss you
when we were children.

Oh, Paul, Paul.

What are we going to do?

There has to be a way to prove
Cordier's relationship to Odette.

Odette never lived in a world by herself.

I've learned today that I am to preside

at the trial of Paul Duclasse.

Whatever is left of my will,
of my conscience, rebels

at sending an innocent man
to the guillotine.

But I know now that I am helpless
under the Horla's influence.

I have become a slave, a machine
that must do his bidding.

I have but one means of escape.

May the Lord see fit
to grant me with mercy

for what I am about to do.

Suicide, Magistrate?

Did you think I would let
your destruction be so simple?

Did you want the gun, Magistrate?

It seems that your will
surrenders most reluctantly.

I must congratulate you
on your strength of character.

Well, then, since I have regained
control once more, we can...

The door, Magistrate.
Shall we see who it is?

Is there something you wish?

Don't you remember me, Magistrate Cordier?

No, I'm sorry. Is there someone here
you wish to see?

Your memory is short.
I'm Jeanne D'Arville.

You bought a painting from me
at my father's gallery.

A painting? Oh, won't you please come in.

You must have the wrong address.
Perhaps I can help you.

That's very possible.

Would your coachman
have taken the wrong turn?

I'm very good at remembering faces,
Magistrate, even if you're not.

A man has little difficulty recalling
a pretty face, Miss D'Arville.

Now, perhaps we can get
to the bottom of this.

Oh, won't you sit down?

No, thank you.

You denied knowing either
Odette Mallotte or Paul Duclasse.

- Why?
- Oh, that again!

Is that what brought you here?

I want to know why you lied.

Under the circumstances,
I'm trying to be patient.

Paul Duclasse doesn't have time
for patience.

Since you won't tell me the truth,
perhaps your servants will.

Really, Miss D'Arville,
I really think you...

Where are they?

They know Odette posed
for you in this house.

They also know Paul was here.

I don't know where you and Duclasse
got this ridiculous notion,

but, unfortunately, my servants
are in Switzerland.

Now, I trust that that is an end
of your accusations.

Oh, no, Magistrate Cordier,
this isn't the end.

I'm sure the police will be interested

in bringing your servants back
from Switzerland for questioning,

even though you may prefer
leaving them where they are.

Gallery D'Arville.

A most determined young woman.

There can be no doubt
that she will go to the police.

Then, I can only hope
that nothing changes her mind.

You still want to die.

You chose the wrong one
for death, Magistrate.

She will die, not you.

Leave her alone.

You will kill her.

No, I can't.

I can't kill again.

Before the night is over, Magistrate.

There isn't much time.

But do you realize what this would mean?

Accusing him before the police?

A man with such a fine reputation.

I already know what they think.

But Paul's entitled to justice.

And I'm going to demand that they bring
the servants back to testify.

Jeanne, you asked my advice.

I can only tell you
that I believe it will be useless.

Father, I'm going to the police.
It's all I can do to help Paul.

I hope you're right.

Perhaps I'm too old
to believe in miracles.

Simon, what are you doing here
at this time of the night?

Father Raymonde, quickly,
take me to your church.

Perhaps there is safety there.

Simon, what are you saying?

A sanctuary, Father.

There's something that I must tell you.

I must confess.

- Help me.
- Come with me.

Whoa!

Whoa!

Whoa!

Whoa!

Whoa!

Father, are you all right?

What happened?

- I'm not sure.
- Whoa!

- You're not hurt?
- No.

Thank the Lord.

Father, it happened so suddenly, as if
someone grabbed the reins from my hands.

He tried to kill both of us.

Kill us! Simon, please explain.

Father, I can't go with you now.

It would mean your life, too.

Listen to me, do as I say.
There's a girl walking down the street.

She can't be more than a few blocks away.

You'll recognize her by the brown dress
and the plume hat she's wearing.

Her name is Jeanne D'Arville.

Tell her that I must see her
tonight at my house.

Please, tell her to come.

The Horla has tried to kill me.

I have become his enemy
instead of his slave.

It is now his life or mine.

Father, are you sure
he wanted me to come back?

I don't know what is wrong,
but it was most important to him.

Father, thank you for coming.

Forgive me, but I can't ask you in.

I hope there's time enough for this.

Simon, there must be something
very wrong. Can't I help?

No. No, this is something
I must do myself.

Pray for me, Father.

Take these. They're most important.

It's imperative that you follow
the instructions

in the letter exactly.

- I don't know what these are.
- Please.

Please take her away, Father.

Go, I beg of you.

Simon, you will have my prayers.

I think we better do as he says.

- Good night.
- Good night, Father.

Something has occurred to me.

Something that happened the night
the Horla made me destroy

the painting of Odette.

If my observation is correct,
then I will be staking my life

on the turn of one solitary card.

If I am wrong, then, this will be
my last meeting with him.

He will kill me.

I have made my preparations. I am ready.

You seem very smug, Magistrate.

Is it because I failed
to make you kill the girl?

Do you think that evil can always
be stopped by a cross?

Perhaps not,

but there may be something
that can stop your evil.

You remember the painting?

How you insisted that I burn it?

Could it be that you were afraid to go
near the flames in the fireplace?

Fire has no will of its own!
Can you control it?

Try! Let me see how fast your powers are!

Let me out!

There's no place to run.

The windows are in flames.
The doors are locked.

- Let me out!
- You're trapped.

The whole room is drenched in kerosene.

How does terror feel?

Doesn't it give you enough strength
to break a lock?

Let me out!

I was right about the fire.

Then, you'll die with...

The last words he wrote:

"If what I think is true, then, there
may be deliverance from the Horla

for me or all of us."

Are you convinced now
that Paul didn't murder Odette?

The diary will clear him.

Poor Simon.

He was ill for so long.
The insanity grew worse.

He didn't know what he was doing.

This Horla,
it was in his imagination, of course.

Can it be denied that evil exists
or that it can possess a man?

Then, Cordier was saying
the Horla is real.

Simon's letter spoke of a warning
to mankind.

He wanted us to know.

Whenever evil exists in the heart of man,

the Horla lives.