Original subtitles

A missive from the Galaine house.

The provisions of the will

could be a motive for the crime.

It mentions a certain James,

the family solicitor.

I'd like you to investigate the solicitor

and the possible provisions.

THE PHANTOM OF THE RUE ROYALE

Part Two

Sit down, Nicolas,

though I'm sure your time is precious.

I'm glad to see you're getting better.

It was indeed a close thing.

I had time, previously,

to enquire into the case, as you asked.

The city is angry with the king, and some are stirring up feeling.

The Paris parliament, in particular,

with the vile provost Bignon lurking in the background.

In these power games,

where neither friendship nor reason belong,

it is you, Nicolas, who are in danger.

Danger is part of my job.

I know, Nicolas. I know.

But...

the Galaine house does not have a spotless reputation.

I fear it is a net into which you have fallen.

That fact has not escaped us.

This is no doubt of little worth.

However, during the brawl,

the one who seemed to be their leader came close.

I grasped his tunic

and seemed to rip off an object.

A button.

Silver.

Which seems brand-new.

Indeed, but they adorn countless uniforms.

We must find the tunic that matches this.

We must.

These City gentlemen are mixed up in this.

Who doubted it?

All we need now is proof.

You didn't see fit to tell me?

Why should I have done?

You know all that happens in the city

and at court.

So now we find you in the clothing trade.

Obviously you are, as Mr de Sartine likes to say,

a many-sided coin.

Every trade has its value, sir.

Unlike every man.

My mother had me study with the nuns.

I learnt sewing and the art of dressmaking.

Add to that Le Paulet's savoir-faire,

my contacts in society and the demimonde,

my good taste and the excellence of my work,

and it is enough to ensure sufficient custom

for me to live comfortably.

But would you rather, sir,

that I continue living off my charms?

No.

It all seems perfectly suitable.

But what is my place in this scheme?

Your place?

Well...

the only, the unique place.

The one assigned by nature

that now belongs only to you.

Between my legs, sir.

Your servant, sir.

Would you share our supper? We have only just begun.

If you can call it supper.

I fear, Commissioner, that the gruel is thin

and the fowl scrawny.

You pay your way, sir. We are drinking only water.

Water from the pump, which costs nothing.

We never saw such a thing when our father was alive.

He expanded the family domain

and did not risk his business on rash speculation

or the vagaries of the seas.

Sir, where did you acquire

the signet ring you wear on your ring finger?

A relative of mine bequeathed it to me.

Though not familiar, I know that coat of arms.

- You're not drinking, sir? - I don't feel like it.

You don't eat, you don't drink.

It so happens you find us all together.

Do you intend to question us?

I cannot see the point.

Do you fear we have consulted each other?

You have had more than enough time.

Madam,

I intend to interview your daughter.

I fear, sir,

that like me, the poor child can be of no help to you.

You seem to have displeased her. Fear her anger.

She is a fearsome creature when defending her flesh.

To the point of committing murder?

Yes, to that point. And far worse.

That's enough, mademoiselle. Too much.

Go to your room.

You wished to see me? Your wish is granted.

See to me, sir.

See to me!

What is all this fuss in aid of?

Well, sir...

Well, sir?

Sir?

Just as you pray in church,

I invoke the shades of my ancestors.

Hoping these shades will pull you from the hole

in which you find yourself?

For the rue Royale murder,

I will give you an exact version of what I know.

I was in the closet.

After the frugal supper served

by that harpy of a cook,

I fell into a profound stupor.

My dreams were filled with cries and with pain,

mingled with calls.

I woke up to the sudden noise of cannon fire,

accompanied by violent flashes, lights and howls

that reminded me of the battlefield.

I saw, on leaving,

a man dressed in my clothes

carrying a young, lifeless woman that looked like Elodie.

- Was he alone? - A woman was with him.

I lost them in the crowd.

I cannot swear, but it seems to me

I saw you among the emergency relief.

Totally exhausted,

I returned to the Two Beavers.

In front of the shop

were the men you know, who seized me.

You know the rest,

since you plucked me from their clutches.

Who are you?

Here, I am nobody,

a hideous, grotesque mask I must carry around with me.

I my land, I am son of the chief

of a tribe allied to the kingdom of France.

As for the fuss you mentioned, aside from his leadership,

just as your king's power comes from God

and not from men, my father is a man...

Here, he would be called a great sorcerer.

Another question, no doubt more dangerous:

what was Elodie Galaine to you?

The woman entrusted to me by her father and the gods

to cherish and protect.

I am surprised he has his liturgical objects.

I received orders from Mr de Sartine himself

that Naganda be treated with deference

and that all personal effects seized

not germane to the case be immediately returned.

Also, his food comes from outside.

Is the Demon closing in on you?

You are as pale as death.

Could you send for our friend Semacgus?

With ease: he is in the lower gaol.

You ordered me to assist him in examining Elodie's body.

These blotches...

As I predicted, they appeared after our initial observations.

They trace the geography left by the killer's hands.

We are, Commissioner, a hair's breadth from the truth.

May we obtain an imprint?

Couldn't be simpler. A transfer onto gauze

will outline the contour.

Then go ahead.

As for this business of haunting,

there is no phenomenon that our reason cannot enlighten.

When that fails, animal instinct can be a substitute.

- Animal instinct? - Yes.

If you so insist, de Noblecourt will lend you his dog.

Should your spirit wander,

the innocent dog, by its passivity,

will convince you your fears are futile.

How are our investigations progressing?

The Prosecutor General's report is damning.

He says the dead number in their hundreds.

The weight of collated elements

lays responsibility for the disaster

on the negligence and unpreparedness of the City's men,

led, if one might use the term, by Major Langlumé.

Good.

The fruit seems to be ripening.

What of the Galaine family solicitor?

The provisions of the will are clear.

On his death, Galaine left a huge fortune,

earned trading fur.

Everything was to go to his daughter Elodie,

with 2 special clauses.

One: she inherit at the birth of her first son.

Two: only if he be born within marriage.

Could Charles Galaine have known?

No doubt. That's why he intended

his son Jean to marry his cousin.

What if these conditions weren't met?

Nothing is stipulated.

I suppose it comes under common law.

The crime is established. We have the motive.

The rest follows naturally.

Rubbed down and combed like a dashing courtier,

you seem truly serene, Nicolas.

Sated would be more appropriate.

So my Cyrus will pass, temporarily, under your command,

officer of the law.

If you authorise it, sir.

As a magistrate's dog, it serves him right.

I so authorise.

En garde!

En garde!

Sir?

Sir?

It's me.

Come. A misfortune has occurred.

Nicolas...

The coldness, the stiffness...

Death seems real and constant, and yet,

a breath of life remains in the patient.

What do you conclude?

Off the top of my head,

only poison could cause such a thing.

The substances used by hunters in the Amazon

to immobilise their prey.

Is it reasonable to think one might survive it?

Not totally unreasonable.

He has a robust constitution. With a powerful emetic...

What is the reason for this sudden intrusion?

Naganda's everyday fare was supplied by you?

Yes, sir. It was permitted.

The man is dead, sir.

In atrocious convulsions attributed to poison.

Do you think us so foolish,

as to draw suspicion upon ourselves

and try to kill him? To what advantage, sir?

Having eliminated the mother along with the child,

you also eliminated the father,

leaving your succession open.

The father?

I want your household assembled immediately.

I doubt, given the circumstances,

that my brother's wife will agree to appear.

Madam is busy.

Madam is busy?

We'll see how busy Madam is!

What happened?

Last night, on the 12 strokes of midnight,

the spirit that inhabited this poor body took its leave.

My poor child was suddenly seized by convulsions,

which seemed to augur well.

But it was her life retreating.

I told you it was useless to expect anything from her.

Wrongly, however,

for while gathering her things...

She had lost the use of words,

but she sometimes drew in coloured crayon

portraits and scenes that speak of her horror.

The cellar, of course.

The pelts' stench shows their state of putrefaction,

attesting to the sorry state of Galaine's business.

Commissioner, sir!

Take the remains to the lower gaol.

The poor girl had seen it all.

The intrigue is unravelling.

All that remains is to dismantle the sad mechanics.

Coming, Nicolas?

He regained consciousness

with the suddenness of ice cracking.

Leave us, gentlemen.

Your child is dead.

I sensed as much.

Young Geneviève Galaine

passed on, after much suffering.

I know.

Neither my incantations nor the shades of my ancestors

could shield her from the darkness.

The evil inside her was too powerful to be beaten by anything but nature.

The soul's torments are outside my remit.

You remain a suspect in a murder case.

I have nothing to fear from the gods' justice.

As for that of men,

I'll leave it up to you.

The talisman I wore at my neck

contained, aside from herbs and soil from my land,

proof of my innocence.

Alas, it has been stolen.

That is indeed regrettable.

Sir, you have accustomed me

to my chambers being more populated

during your confrontations.

Is the game up, then?

For the most part, yes.

The vigour with which this corset had been knotted on the body

would have prevented breathing,

indicating that the victim was dressed post mortem.

Who laces your corset, Mademoiselle?

We hardly have enough staff to attend to that,

but the cook steps in.

Stand. Show your back.

My duties empower me to use force.

Turn around.

Undo your chemise.

The comparison is damning.

The tight double knot at your back

is identical to that found on the young victim.

I accuse you

of having dressed young Elodie Galaine

shortly after death.

We had to, she died in childbirth.

That's a strange reason.

Would you have me believe

her death was brought on by natural causes?

Believe what you like. She did it out of decency.

Was it also out of decency

that you got rid of both mother and child's bodies?

The sorely-tested honour of our house was at stake.

Despite your duties,

would you have any idea of honour and reputation, Mr policeman?

A vague idea, yes.

So there was no murder,

just the sad consequences of an accident?

Try to prove it was not, sir.

Stand up, sir.

Come closer.

You too, Naganda.

Show your hands.

Take off your gloves.

Take off your gloves.

As my hands are infected by corrosive saps and tannins,

I fear their sight may offend you.

Show your hands.

Ring finger missing.

No! It's not missing, as it has never existed.

Is it now a crime to have deformed hands?

The crime does not lie in the deformity,

but in the use they are put to.

At my behest, an expert assessor

took a tracing

from the neck of your late niece.

The progressive putrefaction of tissue

revealed this outline with sinister precision.

It matches perfectly.

More surely than if you had left your seal,

your fingerprints on the poor girl's flesh condemn you.

Confounded by a gauze? Most amusing.

And the crime's motive?

Self-interest, sir.

Elodie was to inherit his brother's fortune

when her first child was born, unless born of adultery.

Therefore Charles Galaine sought to marry her

to his only son, Jean.

Should that not occur, or should she die

before the conditions be met,

the inheritance may revert to his closest relative.

Under the circumstances, you.

However, resorting to murder was pointless.

I have here a hand-written exhibit

whose authenticity cannot be disputed.

It is a certificate of marriage from the church in Louiseville

between Elodie Galaine and Master Naganda

countersigned by Mr Julien Galaine himself.

Your son could never marry your niece

as she was already married, before God and man.

- What does this matter? - Do you not know?

Had I known, it would have changed nothing.

So my vile brother played with me all the way.

Self-interest, you said? Yes, without doubt.

But what do you know of the rage, humiliation and hatred

that attend a deformity, sir?

A father's abandonment, the collapse of a business,

a wife's loose living?

The incessant torture of a house where madness dwells,

vile and repugnant in the features of childhood?

I do not fear hell, sir, because I am familiar with it.

May you never suffer such torments,

which neither those involved here

nor those of the torturer's wheel can compare.

As for these 2 women

I claim full responsibility for their acts

as for my own.

They were but one instrument in my hand,

indistinct and docile.

It seems your thunder is stolen, Commissioner.

Lest your meticulousness suffer, we will end this here.

Dismiss.

Sir, would you be so good as to grant me an interview?

You may withdraw, Commissioner.

What a handsome rider!

Would you guard your virtue a moment yet?

Are you not ready,

you who are so martial, so resolute?

Duty calls both of us.

You seem expert in such objects,

put on a more warlike tunic.

I want your assistance in an operation

that requires your talents.

A police operation?

My talents?

Rather like fate, after all,

Major Langlumé can wait a few moments.

Have you lost your mind, sir? Do you know who I am?

Who you were, sir.

I request from you a final few moments of calmness.

The missing piece.

By what right...?

The right I have to imprison you.

On what charge?

This button, ripped off by Mr de Noblecourt,

will convict you of attempting to murder

the king's magistrate.

Other than serious negligence, you face other charges

of trading in men.

Your entertainments are over, sir.

It is entirely your fault if this arrest

gets out of hand.

I expected no less of you.

And I'm grateful.

By Jove, you appear to have all the strength and intelligence...

of an ox.

Have fun by all means, Major, but mind your manners.

Undressed. And with a lady present!

Your servant, sir.

Mr de Sartine told me of your princely status.

On your father's death, you will reign

over vast territories in New France.

Would you be my ally, sir prince?

Sire, I am your vassal.

The king needs no vassals.

The court's fill of them. He needs allies.

Then willingly, sir.

Come, brother, I must tell you about an affair

that involves our English enemies

and worries us greatly.

How long have you known of Naganda's noble extraction?

When you asked to distribute his portrait.

Certain details in his dress,

the tattoos on his face... I was intrigued.

With the tattoos, the portrait was an open book

to which I asked the Comte de Buffon for a translation.

You impress me, sir. How erudite!

The original credit is yours, Nicolas.

However, for once you must suffer me

to wear the peacock's plumage alone.

What finer manner to re-enter the king's grace

than to give him this ally?

You should know that crowns do not fit two heads,

Monsieur le Marquis.

Subtitles - Henry Moon for TELETOTA