Original subtitles

My lord, time is short. Leave now, I beg you.

You'll be arrested.

Fetch some candles.

I'll be working late.

And my usual glass of wine.

This world had to change.

But the Revolution is now a terror sweeping the land,

and it's my turn to be swept aside.

Old prejudices make men blind, drive them mad...

devour their hearts and turn them into beasts.

In the year 1764,

the Beast reached our soil and made it its own.

A year later, its fame had spread beyond the borders of our province,

and it seemed no mortal would ever overcome it.

The Beast's assaults

slowly sank the region of Gévaudan into darkness.

Who goes there?

What's he done?

- What? - He's a thief.

And her?

His daughter. Damned witch !

I healed their horses. They owe me.

Don't listen. They're liars!

- Did he heal the horses? - Yes.

Begone!

Welcome to the land of the Beast! Beware of wolf traps!

Sir Grégoire de Fronsac

and the man they called Mani were neither hunters nor soldiers.

A naturalist at the King's Garden, Fronsac was a libertine

and a fine wit.

The man who shadowed him

was a mysterious foreigner.

At nightfall, the travelers arrived at the castle of Marquis d'Apcher,

their protector in Gévaudan for the duration of their mission.

Our people fear no ordinary wolf. The Beast is different.

It flees men as if it knew to fear them,

yet spares no woman or child.

Have you ever seen it?

How do you know it's just one animal?

The survivors all say the same.

It's bigger than a wolf and has no fear of firearms.

I understand your skepticism.

I don't believe any more than you in dragons.

I've had a report drawn up,

a memoir of the Beast's crimes.

Judge for yourself.

You battled the English in New France?

Yes, I went to study animals and nature.

I returned with wounds and a captain's rank.

I've organized a hospital for victims of the Beast,

in an old priory.

A woman from Lorciére.

The Beast attacked her coming from the fair.

Two men saved her, the Beast fled, but took half her face.

Tell me, how is M. Buffon?

And how fares Paris?

And L'Ingénu? Have you read it?

It's a bit late to discuss philosophy.

Quite right. Let's speak of theater.

Do you know any actresses? What's in the theater this winter?

Put it there.

They are a gallant lot, it's said. I've read some are free with their charms.

Do tell me.

Here, to satisfy your curiosity.

The Mercure de France! We only get the Courrier d'Avignon.

- I'll show you the common room. - He'll stay here.

Very well. Good night, sir.

It's not Versailles, but the wine's good.

It's big as a cow.

Jacques says he's seen many wolves. It's no wolf.

Its snout is longer, its teeth are like knives.

- If not a wolf, what was it then? - A demon.

Chevalier, the Beast has struck near St. Alban.

There.

There's no one there.

Halt!

What are those bastards doing here?

Good day, Captain.

Good day, Marquis. My respects.

Beware. There are traps.

Duhamel, Sir Grégoire de Fronsac of the King's Gardens.

He'd like to examine her body, with your permission, of course.

The one who brutalized my men?

- Had I known you ordered-- - I did not.

You did well, and I beg your pardon.

They're soldiers trained for war, not hunting.

Careful, she's stuffed with poison.

What sort of gardener are you?

When the Beast is killed, His Majesty wants it studied in Paris.

I'll keep it after it's captured.

I'm having a look.

With that jaw, it must weigh 500 pounds.

This time, I'll get it...

before the snow.

It can't get away.

- Ever seen it? - Once.

Once, in my musket sight. I wounded it, my word on it.

It collapsed, then at once revived.

We lost it near Mt. Mouchet, vanished in the wood.

Did it look like this?

It had a black stripe and spike on its back.

My friends, this is the sketch artist,

Sir Grégoire de Fronsac.

A man of Providence indeed, come from Paris to--

sketch the Beast.

His Eminence, the Bishop de Mende,

the Duke de Moncan,

the Count de Morangias,

and Madame the Countess.

Their son, Jean-François, who has also traveled.

- A clever hand, sir. - Thank you, sir.

M. Laffont, our intendant.

Father Henri Sardis of St. Alban's.

Tell us, sir, is there talk of the Beast in Paris?

- They've written ballads. - Prayers would do better!

Does Capt. Duhamel so need God?

Don't we all?

Duhamel just dresses his men as women

to bait the Beast.

He's doing what he can.

Such indulgence!

Duhamel is incompetent.

His hunts exhaust the people, his ruffians devastate our land,

and the Beast roams free.

If Duhamel is all I get for paying my taxes to Paris,

I'd rather give it to my valets.

- What do you say, sir? - You're not obliged to reply.

His Lordship likes to argue, but he's a good Christian.

When you arrived, this assembly was talking my ears off

with God this and God that.

It's said the Pope sent a spy to see

if the Beast is a manifestation of the Devil.

Pardon me.

Marianne de Morangias. A daunting task indeed.

The most elusive quarry in our land.

- Who's the hapless hunter? - Des Forêts, a playwright.

- Then it's simple. - Careful, she's a Morangias.

Sir, we were conferring--

- M. Des Forêts? - Himself.

An honor. Good writers are rare.

Marquis d'Apcher spoke of you.

He thought of you for his memoirs.

Really?

He's in good spirits. But have some finesse.

Wait till he broaches the subject.

Excuse me.

- Have you no shame? - None.

Does the naturalist like our country?

I've only glimpsed its beauties so far, or one of them.

Is such the talk of court?

No, this is a couplet reserved for provincials.

I might go to court if there were ladies like you.

Dinner is served. Let's go in.

Whither thou goest...

In sailing up the St. Lawrence we found in our nets

the strangest animal I'd ever seen.

I'd heard of the native's sacred fish,

but I was sure it was a legend.

I was looking at a fish

the shape and size of a trout,

but which was entirely covered in a rich black fur.

A furry trout? Surely you jest.

No, sir.

Salmo truta dermopilla from Canada.

Soft as mink.

- Nature is extraordinary! - The water must be cold!

This proves the impossible may be possible.

Well said.

It surely won you the King's favor.

I doubt he deserves it.

Though I do recognize your comedic talent.

Had I two hands, I'd applaud.

- Please pardon him. - Your son is right.

This animal doesn't exist.

My taxidermist is a clever man.

Please excuse the prank.

Should this fable convince us there is no Beast?

That we're simpletons?

The moral of the fable

is that dragons and unicorns only appear in fables.

Lies appear true when dressed in Latin.

Careful, sir. We may lose all sense of what you're saying.

Indeed, are you a naturalist or a philosopher?

Or worse, an actor!

I believe the knight is, above all, Parisian.

Enough talk of the Beast. After all, it only preys on peasants.

How about a guessing game? Charades?

I've just composed a lover's lament. May I, Countess?

- If it isn't licentious. - Oh no.

It's very chaste and pure.

It's an improvisation.

It's called "Wolves Howl".

"I went not warily though I bore no malice, verily

"Your sly eye caught my heart in its prowl

"I howl"

Shall I see you soon?

Have you other amazing animals to show me?

You seem set in your idea of me. Allow me to change your mind.

Try.

- Coming to the hunt? - Certainly.

I can't allow it. Too dangerous.

Obedience is the virtue of well-born girls.

This young man is right.

That day in Gévaudan,

there was the greatest hunt ever in France.

The King offered 6,000 pounds bounty for the Beast.

Thousands of enlisted peasants, swordsmen and soldiers

were joined by every hunter and adventurer in the region.

For a few hours, we forgot we were the hunted.

You each have a map and a location. Movements begin at 7:00.

Thank you.

You might well thank us! My people have better things to do.

Your generosity rivals your courage.

Enough ! For your sake, we'd better take it.

We shall, Your Lordship.

What is this ruckus?

Fine weapon, isn't it?

I had it made in Mende after a campaign.

Custom-made for me, of course.

Look. Even in Paris you'll never see such a bullet.

I make them myself.

Silver? Afraid of werewolves?

I like to sign my shots.

I'm a hunter, Fronsac. And it has cost me dearly.

How did it happen?

I learned the hard way that one bullet won't always suffice.

And, Sardis notwithstanding, prayer won't cure gangrene.

- Did a bear injure you? - A lion.

Yes, two years in the Navy, I traveled a lot.

Do you know Africa?

My lords, my daughter caused all this.

Here. Punish her as you will.

Witch !

She's a daughter of the Devil!

- A demon has got her! - She's ill!

She's not possessed!

Burn her!

She mustn't swallow her tongue. She'd suffocate.

- She's not possessed. - I know.

Naturalist, philosopher and a bonesetter as well?

She didn't show. I won the bet.

Marquis.

And the natives?

Superstitious brutes, like here.

Indian hunters eat the hearts of their prey for strength.

Are they brutes then?

In Africa, it's their enemies' hearts.

My lord the Count, Jean-François, you must move east...

There you are.

Your mother will be worried.

She always is. If I listened, I'd be in a convent.

I knew you didn't believe me. You're a libertine.

- Not when I'm in love. - You're in love?

Ridiculous! We've hardly met.

You thought I meant you?

She must learn to ride like a lady.

No harm in a little exercise.

- My father sees no evil. - My son sees evil everywhere.

People died here.

How do you know?

I hear their cries.

Mani, stop it.

He's right. This was a Templar stronghold.

Twenty-five heretics were burned alive in the chapel.

- Is he a seer? - No need to be.

You just need to look.

My brother and I played here.

Were you not afraid?

He said he would protect me from ghosts.

- No taste for the hunt? - That a crime here?

The Indians say a portrait steals the soul.

My soul interests you as well?

On foot at a hunt?

- My fault. - I didn't ask you.

- What possessed you? - It's only a wolf.

- And if it were the Beast? - I don't think so.

Thank you.

Pray the Beast is one of these wolves.

These won't devour anyone now.

Curious fellow.

- Where did you find him? - New France.

Is he an Acadian?

An Indian. A Mohawk Iroquois.

An Indian? A real one? He doesn't look it.

Come to St. Alban tonight. We'll have fun with your valet.

He's not my valet.

- What then? - He's my brother.

Really! Mixing your blood with that of a savage?

A man who shares one's hardship is no savage.

Mani saved me from the English at Trois Riviéres.

I thought the savages were cannibals.

As you can see, sir, Mani is no animal.

Can you reproduce with a woman of our race?

All women are the same color when candles blow out.

Yes, Father, they even have wit.

Indians and whites have had children.

We're one species.

Don't speak too soon. It's a bit like the Negroes.

What say you, Sardis?

Your blood brother is God's child.

- Has he been baptized? - He hasn't asked.

You are a man of your times!

Mani has his beliefs.

At home, he was a sort of priest.

If they have priests, they're doomed.

What are these beliefs?

Each man has an animal spirit, called a totem.

Amusing. How does it work?

Would you?

Never fear, it won't hurt.

Caribou. A sort of stag.

What says my wife?

Am I a stag because of my horns or because of something else?

And my dear Thomas, what's his totem?

Worm. Bookworm probably.

Snake.

For Indians, the snake embodies wisdom.

Serpent wise.

And our intendant?

Boar.

Lighten your spirit.

Perhaps for these barbarians the pig is nobility.

Who's next? Sardis?

And me?

What am I, a semi-lion?

Half an eagle?

Make me a lizard, so my arm may grow back.

Jean-François, enough.

What? Have I been gauche?

Let me be.

Mademoiselle? Your turn?

Pardon me, but I'm weary of your tricks.

I'll retire before you begin juggling or dancing on a ball.

Good night.

It'll cheer you, Fronsac.

It's the best house in Mende. You'll sleep better than at an inn.

They're all for you. And the new girl is very...

Dear little Marquis.

Come.

I'm expensive, Grégoire de Fronsac.

- Do you know me? - In here, Gévaudan becomes very small.

Italian?

Just passing through.

I have money.

It's not only a matter of money.

What then?

- Who did that to you? - An Iroquois arrow.

Not far from the heart.

I may be a lucky man.

And that?

A bear.

He didn't care much for me.

You haven't seen anything yet.

My business is dangerous.

Some men aren't so nice.

Something to remember me by.

A scandal! In my house!

- Valentine! - I don't lay with sorcerers!

- What? - Snakes on him! I saw them move!

Our reputation ! You have to go!

It's nothing. He's an Indian, not a sorcerer.

- Then no Indians! - You have delicate whores.

Come on, girls. Who will go with our redskin?

I'll double the fee.

- I like his tattoos. - That settles that.

So, a sorcerer are we?

Will you do my portrait?

If you don't behave.

Weeks passed, and Duhamel's men couldn't find the Beast.

A third winter would be spent under its reign.

The snow could not stop it anymore than our rifles and dogs.

Recall how God warned us through the words of Moses:

"I shall come unto you like a bear whose cubs are ravished.

"As a lion I shall devour your children and spill their entrails.

"I will set upon ye a fearsome Beast

"to consume you and your flocks,

"and make your fields barren."

How long, O Lord, wouldst Thou forsake us?

A candle for each victim. Is this truly the Age of Reason?

Have mercy!

Forgive me!

Have mercy!

Bless me!

What is it, my son?

God has punished me! My children vanished on Mt. Mouchet!

I'm damned! We all are!

Gather your men. We must leave.

Alert Mani. I'll find you on the way!

Hello, friend of the wolves.

I have something for you.

I want to see you. Alone.

In 10 days my mother's going to a retreat and my father to a cure.

- Ten days? - I'm not as free as you.

The torch.

Bring the torch !

The storm is rising; the men are tired.

We'd best go home.

No. We must find the girl.

I found the child.

Captain, your web of traps snares more peasants than wolves,

your men have plundered the population,

and since you began, the wolf has taken 12 more lives.

It should never have escaped us.

How's that?

It should never have escaped us.

What say you, Fronsac?

What sort of wolf is this?

My only certainty is that this is no wolf.

Wolves don't attack men, or very rarely. I studied them in New France.

Perhaps our wolves are different.

A rabid wolf will attack.

And dies within a fortnight.

For two years, the Beast has had its bloody reign.

Its victims bear wounds no wolf could inflict.

I've often found upon the body

a piece of this metal.

- So? - So...

no animal has fangs of iron.

Then the Beast is not an animal? Fine.

How do we catch it?

While we speculate, it's killing our people.

Gentlemen, let us hear M. de Fronsac with utmost attention.

So you say, sir,

this is no ordinary animal.

We all think so.

And for myself I'm pleased you concede

this is something supernatural.

I concede nothing, Father. I have only doubts.

Anything to add?

No, gentlemen.

I've received this from Paris.

Capt. Duhamel His Majesty has been informed of your ineffective efforts.

He requests you be relieved of your duties.

You and your men are to return to Langogne at once.

Sir Beauterne, Master at Arms, is on his way.

His mandate is to kill this ferocious wolf.

He alone is authorized to hunt in the diocese.

Gentlemen.

Then I'm forgiven?

I was curious to know my "totem". Is that the word?

I would guess...

mermaid.

Are you never serious? I'll ask your redskin.

And the Beast? Have you spotted it?

Forbidden subject?

My absurd assumptions would get me laughed out of King's Garden.

If I said the Beast is flesh and iron mixed,

that it's possessed of reason and may disappear at will,

what would you say?

Country air has affected your mind.

It's eluding me.

After three months, you expect to have finished?

Should the Beast have surrendered? Perhaps it's afraid of you.

Am I so fearsome?

A hard-won victory will be better savored.

Is it true you're going to Africa?

For now it's but a naturalist's winter dream.

And you? Ever yearn for new horizons?

A lady has more duties than yearnings.

Do you see Sardis over there?

Are you being watched?

He's there to protect me.

Alone with you, God knows what could happen.

Let's go inside. Our priest might catch cold.

Good evening, sir.

- You're in love. - I don't know.

I do.

The cards?

I've never needed them for you.

So let's drink.

To Mademoiselle de Morangias.

- What? - Her brother was here.

You slept with him?

Him? He can't stand to be touched.

He watches, he drinks,

then he talks in his sleep, like all men.

Do I?

What do I say?

"Again !"

Know how Florentine women keep their husbands home?

Each morning, they give them

a slow poison,

and every evening the antidote.

That way, when the husband sleeps away

he has a very bad night.

You needn't resort to that.

Anyway, we aren't married.

Make way for Antoine de Beauterne, Royal Master at Arms,

who has come to rid the country of the Beast!

- I am Grégoire de Fronsac. - Yes, Buffon's envoy.

The naturalist embalmer.

M. de Beauterne is at the Intendant's. Come at 2:00.

His Majesty asked my advice about your report.

Complicated fables indeed!

I believe the Beast is a wolf.

I shall go out for it tomorrow.

I would rather you didn't come.

Why is that?

The King left this affair to me, and to my sole discretion.

I have no need of you to end it.

On the table there's a letter from Buffon and our beloved king.

I'm at his service, but believe me this is not--

I've read your report. Trouble yourself no longer with this Beast.

It's my affair.

You may go.

Come here.

A woman from Lorciére. It attacked her coming from the fair.

We lost it near Mt. Mouchet, vanished in the wood.

The Beast has struck near St. Alban.

God has punished me! My children vanished on Mt. Mouchet!

I don't believe anymore than you in...

Its snout is longer, its teeth are like knives.

My only certainty is that this is no wolf.

- The Beast is no animal. - A rabid wolf will attack.

How do we catch it?

No animal has iron fangs.

Sir, come at once!

I saw him!

He was dispensing poison and saying satanic incantations!

God only knows for how long!

Let him go.

An Indian remedy, Father.

Only our prayers may save her.

But she was...

A miracle!

What happened to your brother?

- A man with the Beast? - The child is incoherent.

Yes, the Beast is dead.

No cure for 10 shots in the gut.

We've brought your things. Begin at once.

- It's not the Beast. - Get to work!

- Ridiculous! - M. de Beauterne is coming.

Watch your lip!

Hello. Leave us!

Don't you like my Beast?

What is this? You know it's not the Beast.

Its jaw is twice as large.

You can fix that here.

What?

Paris awaits. I have only this wolf. So make me a Beast.

- To fool the King? - No, Fronsac.

I carry out his will. You'd be wise to do the same.

Is that a threat, sir?

At my age? Come now, you know me.

You're too smart for threats.

Do your duty, the King will be grateful.

Otherwise, he'll be quite upset.

You have what you need. I'm counting on you.

Good-bye for now.

Good evening, my unhappy friend.

Are you sad to be returning to Paris?

The Beast is dead. You should be happy.

Do you want me to tell you a secret?

I collect them.

Beauterne killed a simple wolf. He is an impostor.

And I am his accomplice.

Come, let's drink to our betrayals.

You saw nothing.

You are no longer welcome at the castle, sir!

Tell Mademoiselle de Morangias that I am here!

- I've already told you-- - Speak of the devil!

My son and I were just talking about you, sir.

It is your daughter I have come to visit.

- I'm afraid that is impossible. - I insist.

Let him come in, Mother.

Be careful, Jean-François, you know how these matters end.

Leave us.

Sir, Marianne is suffering.

I don't understand.

However, Fronsac, you are not a stranger to what ails her.

Where is she?

Follow me.

So kind of you to visit.

Mademoiselle, what ails you?

I am to return to Paris, but that depends on you.

Have a safe journey.

I warned you, Fronsac.

You have offered me only one present,

and here I give you two for your collection.

I've been warned about men of your kind.

Men of my kind, mademoiselle,

never condemn people without having listened to them.

I don't know how this happened, but let me explain.

You needn't bother.

Please, sir, don't make this more difficult than it already is.

Admit that you were not the man for my sister,

and leave it at that, no regrets.

Do you believe that she will remain your nursemaid all her life?

Are you not happy to leave our province in one piece?

In other times, I would have you flogged for looking at her.

Times change.

Not everywhere, Fronsac. In any case, not here.

I'm sorry!

Will you hit me too if I tell you to leave?

Good-bye.

Have no regrets. He didn't deserve you.

On this historic day, thanks be to Sir Grégoire de Fronsac

of King's Garden.

The Beast's end is partly his.

But it is mostly thanks to Your Majesty.

Let it be known :

In your sole person resides sovereign power.

Only a beast could ignore it.

That Beast is no more.

I have only little merit.

With your power bestowed upon me, I merely needed to appear,

and the Beast laid down its arms.

What is this?

Beauterne's carried out his orders, as we all should.

- What orders? - Mine.

This is M. Mercier,

Special Counsel to His Majesty for domestic matters.

It was his idea to send Antoine de Beauterne.

You're to thank for this prompt victory?

I admire your scruples, but it's for the greater good.

Have you read this?

It's no longer for sale, but you may keep it.

It was banned?

A fable undermining the King.

We'd have had trouble if we waited longer. People are so gullible.

Better to lie than let lies be spread?

Truth is a complicated thing. One must govern with simplicity.

No more Beast, no more problem.

It'll go on killing.

No one will hear of it again. That's what counts.

I was forgetting. His Majesty is most thankful.

It's said you want to go to Africa.

In six months, a schooner sets sail for Senegal.

If you wish, you'll be aboard.

Of course, we'll never speak of Gévaudan again.

Well, Fronsac?

Marianne de Morangias?

Madame, I don't believe I know you.

We both have a friend in common.

What are you doing here?

It's useless to hide behind that veil.

Your perfume is not that of a Lady.

Grégoire de Fronsac has only loved one woman.

It is your name he calls out in his sleep.

He will soon be leaving on a long journey.

Just perfect.

When you see Fronsac, do not tell him anything of our meeting,

or you will lose him forever.

Who was that, my child?

No one.

That one, in the hold with the others.

These two, in my cabin. Be careful, they're fragile!

Hello, Fronsac!

Hey, Marquis!

Good to see you !

Not as good as all that.

Two days after you left, the crimes began again.

The King no longer sends soldiers. I can't find volunteers for the hunt.

I can't do a thing. I don't know how to catch it.

Frankly, it wasn't entirely your talents I was thinking of.

Mani found the child.

Just one hunt, Fronsac! You'll be back within the month.

Impossible! The King has forbidden us from returning.

- The King will not know. - So you think.

Is the King's peace of mind worth all these sacrifices?

You won't change my mind.

- Do you want to bet? - The last time we made a bet, you lost!

I would have preferred not to use this,

but, here, it's from Marianne.

And Mani?

My friend!

How are you?

- We're leaving for the hunt, Mani. - This time, we'll do it your way.

So, my friend, any good news?

Best in the world, Marquis.

In Gévaudan, the crimes continued,

but officially, the Beast was dead.

What really happened appears in no history book.

It was carefully kept quiet.

Is he welcoming us?

He wants to help us.

Go to the castle. I'll meet you there.

What is it?

Where do Jeanne and Pierre Roulier live?

Go straight on. It's the last house in the village.

This is Jeanne, my nanny.

Pierre, fetch some wine.

I'm being watched. They might know you're back.

I'll tear you away from your family.

I can't bear my mother, nor Jean-François.

I want to leave.

In a week, we'll go to Paris.

Why wait?

The hunt. I promised the Marquis.

You didn't return for me?

Look out!

Leave! Slowly, don't run !

Over here! Look at me!

Come here!

Go, Marianne!

What is this? Open up!

My God!

Tell me, do you really think we'll find this Beast?

We're short of men.

Mani knows what he's doing. I'm hunting a man.

A man?

The Beast is a weapon serving a sick mind.

- Wouldn't a killer be secretive? - Right.

The Beast's first mystery is its fame.

Its master wants people to talk, to be afraid and make noise.

How's that?

This book is sold all over.

It says the Beast is punishing the King's indulgence in philosophers.

Who wrote it?

I don't know, but the Beast has a master. I want him.

Perhaps your weapon will help...

but only in your hands!

And you, Mani?

Which will you choose?

Mani doesn't like firearms.

Too much noise and smoke. Bad smell.

All will go well, Grandfather.

Don't worry. We're well prepared.

Tell me of the Americas.

Will you never go back?

Not all my memories are fond ones.

And Mani? Does he miss his tribe?

His tribe is no more.

Before our attack, the pox had decimated his village.

Orders were to execute survivors.

The women, and the children, too.

Only Mani escaped.

- How? - We needed an interpreter.

I was to teach him our language. Then I found him slaying the Captain.

Why didn't you turn him in?

Know how the Captain waged battle?

He gave his scouts infected hospital sheets.

The Iroquois bought them. Three weeks later, we'd mop up.

- And that's our war? - In any case, that is how we lost.

Where did he go?

- To speak to the trees. - Trees?

Trees can speak.

The white man cannot listen or see.

See what, Mani?

Want to learn?

- What's this? - An Indian sacrament.

At your own risk, Marquis.

- What's it do? - Depends on the person.

They say they see the invisible.

So, Mani?

The Beast is in the forest. The wolves will help us.

I see no better.

This night we shall dance the dance of blood.

And the Beast shall come to us with the sun.

It has no effect on me.

That night, Mani invoked spirits

in a language even Fronsac couldn't understand.

And the wolves brought them to the Beast.

Don't worry, I'll fix this for you.

Don't worry, girl. I'll see to you.

I'll take care of you.

Thomas is asleep. A close call.

I'm sorry for the Indian.

What is there?

Tell me, what manor is this? I need to know.

It's a domain. A hunting ground.

Sir, you need rest.

Hurry! Fire!

He's over there! Come on !

Fronsac returned by Mani's side.

His revenge had hardly begun,

but according to Indian custom,

he must be sent to his ancestors at dawn's first light.

What do you want?

Too much blood has been spilled.

You're in great peril here.

I have business to attend to.

Is it worth your life?

How long have you known?

I don't know what you mean.

Come now, Sardis. How?

How did it get this far?

No one will believe you.

Go away, Sardis.

May God save you.

May the Devil take you.

You're under arrest by order of the Intendant.

Please offer no resistance.

That's ridiculous!

- A lady to see you. - Later. Tonight.

Get up! You've got company.

- Aren't I in solitary confinement? - Depends for whom.

Sorry.

Bring your guest some dinner.

- How? - Many owe me favors.

Help me. I must write to the King.

You'd be hung before he read your letter.

I've yet to stand trial.

Here.

- Tell me of the Beast. - A trained animal.

Cloaked in armor. I wounded it.

Why the sudden interest?

Two years ago,

a confidential letter from Sardis was given to the Pope.

It spoke of a newly founded secret society

whose purpose was to spread

and defend, by any means, the word of the Church.

The Brotherhood.

Sardis, he was using the Beast.

The Beast is a warning to the King:

"Heed the power of the Lord or suffer Apocalypse."

Members are known as "wolves of God."

It serves the Church?

Sardis serves only himself. These wild times have made him mad.

The group is beyond Rome's control.

In whose employ are you?

My duties include never letting that be known.

And you, you know quite enough.

Mademoiselle de Morangias, what an honor.

How fares the Countess? Please sit down.

And your father? Still in cure?

He's too fond of rich food.

Sir, you've arrested Fronsac.

How far a man such as he has fallen !

- He's neither thief nor murderer. - Really?

Hear me, he must have had his reasons.

- If they killed the Indian-- - That's another matter.

You don't avenge a savage with Christian blood.

May I visit him?

Impossible.

Very well.

Paris shall hear of this.

You don't understand.

Fronsac passed away...

last night.

In any case, they'd have hung him.

Upon reflection, he was lucky.

He was in your custody.

Perhaps he choked.

Or he caught a blight in the mattress.

You're lying. You're all lying!

Courage, child, it's the will of God.

Come.

- I'll escort you home. - She needs rest.

- Let me alone! - It's over.

He's already reeking. Bury him quickly in an unmarked grave.

She threatened to go to the King. That girl is dangerous.

Fronsac was buried that very night,

long before news of his death reached Paris.

No one knew what secrets he took to his grave.

For several days, the Beast did not strike.

But the sudden disappearance of its most dauntless foe

seemed to be a dark omen.

Hurry.

Father, I'm guilty. I have sinned.

Forgive me.

Marianne, day and night I think of her.

I hear her heart beating in my chest.

I want her on our side, Sardis.

- The Lord is testing you. - I can't endure it.

The visions!

These accursed visions torment me!

Deliver me, Father!

I beg of you !

There's only one remedy for this evil.

Don't drink, Sister.

They want to kill you.

But I won't let them.

Who does?

Who?

We're going to leave, just you and me.

How about America?

You've hurt me, but I forgive you.

Please. What are you doing?

Stay.

- Would I harm you? - Please stay away from me.

I need you.

You saved me when I was sick, no one else.

The sight of your face ended my nightmares.

Your hand on my brow chased away demons.

You can't imagine all I've done to keep you near.

I beg of you, don't shun me.

Why?

Do I disgust you?

You don't frighten me. Get out.

Because of this?

Never fear.

From now on, I'll take care of you.

Look.

No one knows. Only Sardis and I.

Leave! Get out!

Why?

You're not my brother.

Another man returned from Africa.

That's true, but it was for you I left.

All this would not be, if not for you.

All this?

It's your odor that foul thing smelled on me.

We're of the same blood.

When father comes back, he'll kill you !

Unless I kill him? He's hindered us so long.

Go ahead. Do it, go ahead!

Why didn't you?

Is it so difficult? Look.

- Stop! - Then you love me?

I love you !

Brothers, the Lord has told me

the Beast will return

to herald the return of values to our decadent kingdom.

And in a reborn France

we shall be invisible princes, for God is with us.

The people cannot fathom the Lord's wrath.

The unjust censure of the King

cannot withstand the public's rage.

When that wrath is at a climax,

we'll bargain with the King.

If he couldn't repress one,

imagine if, from all over the realm,

other beasts burst forth.

The hour is at hand to reap what we've sewn.

Let us read from Malachi:

"The word of the priest is the depository of science,

"and from his mouth is sought knowledge of the law,

"for he is the angel of the Lord of Hosts."

"He who adores the Beast

"shall drink the Lord's wrath.

"He shall be tormented in the fire and brimstone

"before the angels,

"and the smoke shall rise in the century of centuries."

I've come back to name you :

Pierre-Jean Laffont. Geneviéve de Morangias.

Maxime Des Forêts.

Gontrand de Moncan. Henri Sardis.

Jean-François de Morangias.

Amen !

Fire!

Bastards! You're all under arrest!

Ghost or no ghost...

I'll split you in two.

See? No need to hold back.

I never intended to.

Too late. The Beast is immortal now.

Perhaps, but you are not!

- You trained the Beast. - How'd you know?

You use silver bullets.

Marianne, look!

Marianne's not here, madman.

You've united us forever.

Line the bastards up!

Who do you think you are?

Look at them!

Not so high and mighty now!

Get back!

- He's dead. - Now it's certain.

And Sardis?

Wherever he runs, we'll find him. Or the mountain will take him.

Shall we celebrate properly?

You've killed me once.

The better to revive you.

I could introduce you in Rome. Will you come with me?

Too late.

I like you, Fronsac. You make me forget all my duties.

Leave, before I change my mind.

- Marquis, what is it? - Marianne.

I've had her brought home. She's dying.

Get out! Go away! All of you !

Wake up!

Forgive me.

I love you.

Years passed, but Grégoire de Fronsac

and Marianne de Morangias never left my memory.

The world that made the Beast is dying away,

and I must hasten, for my story, too, is ending.

I remember Fronsac and I at Jean-François'hideaway

where the Beast awaited its final hour.

The old healer told us all he knew.

Jean-François brought an animal back from Africa,

who had a litter.

Only one cub was kept, the strongest.

Patiently and cruelly,

he'd trained it to be vicious.

Thus died the Beast of Gévaudan.

And I, Thomas d'Apcher,

am probably the last to know the whole truth.

The Chevalier invited me to Africa,

but my land needed rebuilding.

My duty was to my countrymen.

I've often thought of Grégoire and Marianne

throughout these peaceful years that have brought me to this age.

I never saw them again,

but I like to think they lived happily, far from here.