Original subtitles

Come, Mademoiselle Elodie.

So much fuss for such a little thing.

Definitely the devil's creature.

My child! Where is my child?

THE PHANTOM OF THE RUE ROYALE

That's just what I asked him for.

Here's Mr de la Briche.

You're rather sombre for a holiday.

I assume you're worried about something.

That a pox-ridden beauty who gave you a dose of the clap?

Alas, no. I leave that to more boisterous friends.

You're right: I am worried.

Mr de Sartine wished, as is his prerogative,

for supreme control over the Dauphin's coming-of-age feast.

But Bignon, the merchants' provost, had been scheming.

The city police against the king's police.

Bignon sees his chance to sport brand new uniforms.

The king didn't want to offend magistrates of a city that hates him.

That's why you see me worried tonight, my friend.

- Garins! - Major?

Get rid of this rabble, soldier.

Spare me the sight of the hoi polloi.

Stand aside! Make way!

I am Major Langlumé. City official. Stand aside!

I recognised you, even in your new finery,

immoderate though it may be.

The devil with moderates!

I oversee the celebrations' order

and de Sartine's men don't belong here.

The king's orders.

Death to the king!

To the balcony. Hurry!

Balcony.

- Ah, Mr de Ranreuil! - Le Floch will do.

Mr Le Floch, I am relentlessly assailed by harpies.

Each pushing to gain a better place.

I add benches: that's not enough.

Is it possible to have an overall view of the square...

The terraces, sir!

You'd get me out of a spot. I wouldn't know where to put you.

Accompany my friends to the terraces by the rear stairs.

Look at them!

I hear they'll be everywhere.

Head of security for the celebrations

is the plumed cock who sought a quarrel,

that boor Langlumé.

Unlike you, they are not professionals.

It's a guard made up of poor men whose services are bought.

Ah! I think it's time.

We must cut it short.

Naganda!

Geneviève, what are you doing here?

The devil's creature!

The devil's creature!

A rocket fell on the store.

Flee! Every man for himself!

We've been locked out.

- Quickly! - Don't panic!

There are dead.

There are dead!

Garins, what news? Take a glass and drink with us.

His Majesty owes us that.

Garins, what of the fellow I entrusted to your vigilance?

The little Commissioner?

Double-locked out on the terraces

of the Exterior Ministry.

There, he can enjoy the show

without getting involved.

To the king,'s death! And that bastard de Sartine!

Bastard de Sartine!

Gentlemen...

I will not have such abuse here.

This key, madam...

is a pledge against your favours.

Has your uniform gone to your head like a bad wine?

Did you forget, major,

that I never mix business with pleasure?

Move back!

Have them move back!

Back!

These deaths are her fault!

- Witch! - Possessed!

- She's the devil's creature! - The devil's creature!

- The demon's red-head! - Witch!

Possessed!

You say she's possessed?

This child has lost her reason

and I will not have her abused.

Carry her inside.

A fine celebration.

I came as soon as you sent for me.

I ordered that, in my absence, my daughter remain in her room.

It's not easy to confine her, short of bolting the door.

Did she take her potion tonight?

Did you disobey me?

The only orders I take, madam, are those of my brother,

your husband.

My husband!

And where is my husband at present?

At the traders' banquet.

Thrown by Mr Bignon, the provost, at the city hall,

to mark the occasion.

Like the terrible spectacle of a battlefield

when the two sides withdraw.

Most of the dead belong

to the most modest classes.

Yes, Bourdeau!

And of course, the street belongs to the richest.

And of course, the rascals will be blamed.

Hear that sandy noise?

Her vertebrae have been broken.

An odd wound, if she had indeed been crushed in the crowd.

She hasn't been crushed, she's been strangled.

Bourdeau, set the body aside

and take it to the lower gaol to be opened.

Bourdeau! You must alert Sanson.

I trust only him and you for this operation.

Semacgus, my friend, I'll ask you to help me.

Nicolas.

Where were you fleeing to?

I wasn't fleeing. I live in this house.

You live here? That's a tall tale!

A lively gait, wide shoulders,

powerful torso.

Your terrible face alone would scare off the enemy.

You'll be a famous conscript, friend.

- Your opinion on the night? - Unprepared and improvised.

No security measures taken for the movement of vehicles.

And the number of victims?

Over a hundred, but many predict twice that.

Most from the lower classes, inflammable by nature.

Add to that the fleeing city guards

meant to maintain public order.

The slightest incident would turn into a disaster.

The city guards!

The city guards!

I told His Majesty the city was in no position

to control events of this size.

11 years without a wrong step.

And here comes Bignon,

the puffed-up provost,

without reason or power, usurping my authority,

cutting the ground from under my feet

and laying waste to my territory!

However, sir,

your history, the trust accorded by the king,

- your duties... - Balderdash!

Does that not speak in your favour?

Favour is a volatile essence,

as apothecaries and chemists know.

Here are my instructions, to be carried out to the letter.

Take all necessary means and measures

to compile a report on the events of last night.

You will determine the origin, the responsibilities,

mistakes and possible interference.

Calculate the exact extent of the tragedy.

Moreover, I want this investigation to remain secret.

You report only to me.

And should I be impeached, to the king in person.

The public disorder may well

have hidden a crime that is precisely in our purview:

the body of a young woman found lifeless

and doubtless murdered.

By Jove!

Nicolas!

You cannot be reproached for always being 2 squares ahead.

For now, I assign you an official carriage.

Use it as you will. You'll find it in the yard.

Good hunting, Commissioner.

Good hunting.

We, Nicolas le Floch, Commissioner at Châtelet,

assisted by Inspector Bourdeau,

Charles-Henri Sanson, Paris executioner,

and Guillaume Semacgus, marine surgeon,

conscripted by us,

are in the presence of a body brought in today,

presumed to have died in the rue Royale disaster.

We can say that the victim was dressed

in a brown velvet cape,

a light blue silk dress with a small flowery yoke,

all effects free of the slightest stain,

the slightest creasing or disorder.

Also, an ecru corset

with green laces.

It was tight enough

as to be impossible to remove without cutting.

White stockings.

one pannier, two petticoats,

one of fine cotton, the other of silk, without pockets.

Note these stretch marks.

They show she was very distended.

Note also the eloquent swelling of her breasts.

She had just given birth

or underwent a late abortion just before dying.

Gravis odor puerperii.

The smell leaves no doubt. The birth was but hours ago.

All that remains is to proceed with the review.

Then let us proceed.

Would you have a description of the lady?

Yes.

An extremely precise description.

As with the childbirth, the murder was evident.

She was strangled with powerful hands

that broke her neck vertebrae.

She couldn't have died in the crowd.

No, sir.

Look at the soles.

No mud or dirt at all.

Note down we are seizing them as exhibits.

Sir!

A certain Charles Galaine, who knows the victim's identity.

His niece, who disappeared last night.

Charles Galaine. Master furrier, rue Royale,

at the sign of Two Beavers, merchants' guild member.

It seems my niece, Elodie Galaine,

was the victim of unrest,

caused by the fault and negligence of your men

and their command.

Indeed, it is she.

May I take the body?

No, sir.

It is at the sole disposal of the king's justice.

As for you, sir,

I order you to lead us forthwith to your home

for a police operation I do not intend to put off.

Why is your establishment in such a state?

It bore the brunt of your police's negligence.

The crowd tried to stone the witch.

What of this so-called witch?

There is, to my knowledge, no witch on these premises.

Is this your entire household?

Yes, excepting my wife.

I'd like some introductions, sir.

Are we suspected of any crime?

My only son, Jean.

My sister, Charlotte Galaine.

Marie Chaffoteaux, our cook.

Why is your wife not present?

She is out, as is her habit.

- There's Naganda too. - Naganda?

A Huron Indian of the Algonquin tribe

sent by my brother Julien to accompany his daughter

from our territories in New France.

In what role, sir?

As a guard, sir,

to watch over the young lady's safety,

as if my guard were not enough.

- Where can I find this guard? - In the attic.

A closet where the rascal has made his quarters.

The bird has flown.

Mud-splattered and starched by what looks like blood.

- Are these his things? - Yes, sir.

He wore them to hide his outfit

and his hideous features.

You think he had any reason to murder your niece?

Amorous frustration.

It was evident that my niece

wished to marry my son, Jean, despite their being cousins.

We requested a dispensation

from the Archbishop.

From the king, Mr le Marquis.

Take great care, Inspector,

to carry out a detailed search

and seize all effects,

instruments and substances needed to establish the truth.

Have a detailed portrait of Naganda made,

that he may be hunted in Paris and its suburbs.

Be quick, Bourdeau. Time is of the essence in this case.

An invitation to appear before His Majesty.

And in the king's hand.

Behind Mr de Sartine's back in a way.

My obedience is to the lieutenant-general,

but more so to the monarch, who has total authority.

These are consequences of last night's disaster.

No doubt.

In my old post as Prosecutor General,

I could inquire after events involving the government

and enlighten you.

Nothing could be more precious than your help.

No need to pay: I'll leave you my company coach

for any nag you may lend me.

Any nag? My word!

I sentimentally keep in my stable

a splendid bay I rarely ride

who is always impatient to stretch his legs.

Do you never doubt, Mr de Ranreuil?

My office forbids it, Sire.

And the other one, the Devil: do you believe in him?

No more than necessary.

I mainly detect his mark in men's malice.

This case is extremely important,

as it is about him.

- Who? - The devil, sir. The devil.

The devil?

It has come to my notice

the ways of the Lord are unfathomable -

that the evil one haunts a merchant family in rue Royale

where you are investigating.

The kingdom is peopled with flies

the most obsessive of which you do not command.

The Archbishop of Paris, in whose grace I am not,

is upset and gesticulating.

I do not want the Church's nose,

already long enough, in the kingdom's affairs.

Affairs of Church and kingdom

are separate and distinct.

No one shall usurp the power I am given

from the gentleman on high.

Investigate this alleged possession thoroughly

and report only to me.

Give me an accurate, detailed report

when you have solved the mystery.

Who wants water?

Would you care to water, sir?

Wait for me.

You'll have to show more conviction

or people will see through our ploy.

In this area, conviction is unreliable.

The people are angry. Flocking together, muttering, booing.

Paris curses the police and Mr de Sartine

for not doing their job.

At first light, the city's men were everywhere,

saying your boss was to blame for the tragedy.

City's men? Magistrates?

Nay! Bourgeois guards,

all gilt and gilt-edged.

Many emerged from dives stinking of wine

bad enough to kill flies. All drunk and tottering.

Their great lump of a boss got them worked up and urged them on.

Find out where they spent the night.

For the lump, I know already:

he thinks it glorious to be in the gallant company

of your friend La Paulet, at the sign of the Crowned Dauphin.

Oh! Commissioner!

What brings you here?

You wanted to see me about a case that concerns me.

Leave us.

Here, sir, instead of that to hell,

and since you deny yourself that to heaven...

Well?

The key to the terraces at the Exterior Ministry,

where a wicked hand banished you, impotent, one certain night.

Momentarily, madam, but not permanently impotent.

I don't doubt it, Commissioner.

That's why I long to hold the proof.

It's your decision.

Unless my status prevents you following through?

Mine is no higher than yours, madam.

And where the hand leads, other things may follow.

Take it, sir. Take it.

Goodness! I didn't know what a swift rascal you were.

Rather than hasten the dénouement,

couldn't you have surrendered for a few moments?

I'd have feared surrendering too much.

It wouldn't have displeased me.

Just so, but I abhor unconditional surrender.

Someday, who knows?

I hear you're looking for a man with a tattooed face.

Langlumé boasts of a certain trade his men conduct.

One of my girls heard a report being made

in the exhilaration of triumph.

They had just snared some game

that matched the description Bourdeau gave me.

Come, sir.

You know your friend La Satin is no longer here?

She found better elsewhere

and seems to have set up for herself

at this address.

Mesdemoiselles! Come!

Explain.

I had orders, sir. Orders from above.

What is your trade?

Men, for service in the king's troops.

As the needs are great,

we are obliged to provide.

A trade in men.

I imagine your commander, Major Langlumé, gets his share.

Take me where you hold these wretches.

The galleys of war.

Taken from their family, softened by blows and deprivation.

These wretches will see in the butchery of battle

hope that they are not given here.

You are in great danger.

For now, it's you who are in danger.

To what do I owe this visit?

To a police operation

as part of an investigation

that my office empowers me to conduct where I see fit.

- You're very foolhardy. - Far less than you.

I have a letter authorising me to take you to the Bastille.

The fortress conceals in its entrails

dungeons worse than this. Care to try them?

Do you admit that this necklace is yours?

I do.

And are these your personal effects?

Indeed.

You will also admit that this tooth

is identical to those on your necklace.

I do, since it is a fact.

I must tell you that it was found by myself

in the clenched hand of Elodie Galaine,

whose suffocated body was among the victims

in the crowd of revellers last night.

I must also inform you

that you are prime suspect of the death,

in all probability a criminal act.

I see you show neither astonishment nor pain.

Yet I heard you were close to the young victim.

"Seeing this, the Lord was moved and said:

"'Do not cry. It will be given back to you in the End Times.'"

St Luke.

Whence comes your knowledge of the Scriptures?

I was raised by the Jesuits in New France

at my father's behest.

The king's justice fears nothing more than blindness.

Though you are a suspect, you have no fewer rights.

You are placed under our protection.

And if you know or suspect anything,

you must tell us.

You may remain silent, but think on what I say.

I must take you to a cell

where you will remain at the disposal of justice.

Come.

One question, sir, if you would.

What danger did you mean when you first saw me?

I know not, sir.

Images sometimes come to me

in a kind of trance.

A kind of trance?

What do you think about witchcraft?

Witchcraft?

If by that you mean the strange phenomena

in the Galaine house,

the natural reason lies in the mental derangement

of young Geneviève.

Geneviève?

Geneviève Galaine, Charles Galaine's daughter.

Did he omit to tell you of her existence?

The hideous face of madness, Commissioner.

- So this is your daughter? - Yes, sir.

The poor girl is resting.

With no remedy for an imprecise illness,

one uses expedients.

An opiate, which, instead of curing her,

can comfort her by bringing dreamless sleep.

Tell me what you did yesterday.

I went out and came back.

A rather brief answer.

I am investigating a case of murder.

The king's justice can loosen the tongues,

sooner or later, of the most recalcitrant.

No need, Commissioner. I don't scare easily.

And I have nothing to confess.

I can feel fresh convulsions. Send for help, father.

It may be best if you withdrew.

That isn't the little Commissioner!

Mr de Noblecourt!

I thank you, sir, for the help you provided.

I fear I may not be able to return it.

I know nothing of the case that brings you here

but that...

it is a family matter in which I have no place.

No place?

Sir, something has happened to Mr de Noblecourt.

He got a right good kicking.

I fear he is concussed.

Could you at least tell me he will live?

No. But under his city attire, our friend is a rustic beast

with a good, thick hide.

The confusion came from the carriage I lent him.

Don't go turning it over in your head, Nicolas.

Regrets don't matter when what's done is done.

Now it's up to nature alone.

I understand your pain.

Nevertheless, there's no use moping here.

I know it's not the time,

but I'd like your permission to re-examine Elodie's body.

Why?

My job has taught me that, sometimes, flesh shows marks

later on once maceration has set in.

We can learn a lot about life by looking at lifeless bodies.

You don't care about the state of my trade.

Everything concerns me, when there's a crime.

I must inform you

that I intend to establish my quarters in your house,

for the time needed for my enquiries.

By what right, sir?

The right given by the king.

The king?

What the devil would the king do in my home?

The king is at home here and any other place in the kingdom.

And it does concern the devil.

The devil?

- How could the king know... - The king knows everything.

He knows about the scandal caused by Geneviève's madness.

Such disorder cannot be allowed in the capital,

nor any source of agitation in a people quick to flare up.

My means do not allow me to keep you, sir.

If that's the only objection, I'll deal with it.

Is 8 livres a day suitable?

Your servant, sir.

Take the Commissioner to the rooms

occupied by my late brother, whenever he came here.

Julien Galaine, Monsieur's brother,

went to seek his fortune in New France.

- And did he find it? - Oh yes!

Much more than he had sense.

That was the moment

that misfortune entered our house.

Misfortune? How so?

His elder son gone, the father went into decline,

losing his taste for life.

Thus, at his death, control of the house

fell handily into the hands of Charles Galaine,

the younger brother.

You do not have a high opinion of your master,

but you know everything that goes on in this house.

Is that not the sad privilege shared by all servants?

The late Julien Galaine, the master's brother.

He looks hardy with good bearing.

I am busy, sir.

Would you have a snack?

An omelette, sir.

A simple omelette, washed down with beer.

That's all I can offer your appetite.

"Louiseville, 5 December 1750.

"My dear brother,

"Our father's death shows me the misfortune of being far from home

"and to be able to rely only on the coldness of a brother

"and his constant, unjustified hostility."

I fear your omelette may have to wait.

One of your men wishes to see you.

To be continued...

Subtitles - Henry Moon for TELETOTA