Produced and Directed by
Gérard, have you seen Dargelos?
Yes... I mean, I don't know.
You're a dirty thief! Give it back!
Say it!
Confess right now! I'll make you talk!
- It wasn't me! - Talk!
It was too you!
There was snow that evening.
Parts of the school were under construction
and became a perfect battlefield for the boys.
Dargelos!
Dargelos, it's me!
- He's bleeding! - Here comes the principal!
- Dargelos did it. - That's not true.
Yes, sir.
You again... of course!
Come with me!
Beauty enjoys immense privileges,
even from those unaware of it.
The teachers were fond of Dargelos.
The puzzling incident deeply distressed the principal.
Paul, what's wrong? Tell us!
You tell us!
Nothing to tell. We were throwing snowballs.
I hit him with one. It must've been hard.
He went "Oh!" and fell over.
I thought he had a nosebleed.
Snowballs don't crush ribcages.
He hid a rock in the snowball.
Is that true?
Answer me!
He's coming to. Ask him.
- How do you feel? - Forgive me.
Don't apologize.
You're sick. You fainted.
- All I remember... - What caused you to faint?
A snowball hit me in the chest.
Snowballs don't hurt that much.
That's all it was.
Your classmate says it had a rock in it.
Gérard's crazy.
You're crazy.
It was just a snowball. I was running.
I must have had an attack.
The principal was relieved.
The car's waiting.
One licorice wheel.
Come on.
You're going home. It's nothing serious.
A snowball isn't serious, is it?
Come on.
Don't bother, sir. I'll see him home.
He already looks better.
34 rue du Rocher.
Young people imagine the worst right away,
yet the worst seems unreal to them,
since they're unable to imagine death.
"Paul's dying."
"Paul's going to die."
He didn't believe it.
Paul's fake death seemed the fitting end to a dream,
a snowy voyage locked up inside the frost
lasting forever.
Without Paul, the car would have been just a car,
the frosted windows just frosted windows,
the snow just snow,
the firemen just firemen.
Would you like me to help?
Want him to help?
I'm not dead. Help me and shut up.
Elisabeth.
Open up! It's us!
Open up! Paul's sick!
This is a trick. Is this lie the truth?
Hurry! He's shivering out here.
Good heavens!
We'd just gotten out of class...
You're always such a jerk!
Keep your voice down! You want Mom to hear us?
Darn it!
A dirty rat hit him right in the chest with a snowball.
- A snowball? - Well, not exactly.
I keeled over like a fool. That's all.
That's great.
They have snow fights while I play nurse
to my invalid mother.
My invalid mother!
I play nursemaid while you play in the snow.
I bet you're the idiot who dragged him into this!
Who'll nurse him? You? Don't just stand there, nitwit!
My dear Lisbeth...
I'm not "your" Lisbeth! Show some respect!
Gérard, don't listen to the old bag. She's a pain.
Old bag?
All right, you jerks! You're on your own.
Nurse yourself. This takes the cake!
This dope faints from a snowball, and I'm silly enough to worry.
Watch this. I've been practicing for two weeks.
- Sleeping, Mother? - Just dozing.
Paul has a sprain. I put him to bed and called the doctor.
- Is he in pain? - Only if he walks.
He sends his love. He's reading the newspaper.
- And the maid? - Same as always.
Are you asleep?
Leave me alone.
Charming! You get lost while I work.
In their private jargon,
"getting lost"meant they were playing their game.
They would say, "I'm about to get lost," or "I've gotten lost."
You dog.
You're a dirty dog.
Let me take your boots off.
Your feet are freezing.
To disturb one who was playing the game was an unpardonable sin.
I'll get a hot-water bottle.
Sit up. If you play dead, I can't get this off.
Lift your arms.
This is their treasure chest.
The treasure in it was indescribable.
The objects in the drawer had lost their original significance
and taken on immense symbolic meaning,
while to anyone else, they were just junk:
Wrenches, tubes of aspirin,
aluminum rings and hair curlers.
Now sleep, you idiot.
- Hello, Lise. - Hello, Doctor.
Paul is sick. A snowball hit him in the chest.
Where is he?
I put him to bed in our room.
Hello, Doctor.
What's wrong, Paul?
Leave us alone. Hand me that thermometer.
Wait in the living room.
I'm going to listen to his heart, and I don't like anyone watching.
Lise!
No need to worry.
There's no danger, but it is serious.
His chest was already weak. A light blow was enough.
Going back to school is out of the question.
He needs rest, rest, and more rest.
Good idea speaking of a sprain. No use worrying your mother.
You're a big girl now. I'm counting on you.
Call in the maid.
She's gone.
That's just great.
I'll send nurses in starting tomorrow. They'll help with housework.
They'll buy what's needed,
and you'll be in charge.
Elisabeth never thanked anyone.
She was used to miracles, so they came as no surprise.
She expected them, and they never failed to happen.
I'll check on your mother. Stay with Paul.
Darling.
- Have you gone mad? - Me?
Yes, you pest! Can't you let people sleep?
I'd like to sleep too.
But I take care of you, feed you, and listen to that noise you make.
- What noise? - A hell of a noise.
Idiot!
I had big news, but since I'm an idiot, I won't tell you.
Keep your news to yourself. I don't give a damn.
There was no embarrassment between brother and sister.
Their room was a thick shell
in which they lived, washed and dressed,
like two halves of one body.
What did the doctor say?
You're not to go back to school.
With a stab of pain he imagined Dargelos,
who went on living in some other world,
and saw his future without Dargelos.
Lise, I don't feel well.
Great! My leg's fallen asleep.
What do you want?
I want you close to me,
by my bedside.
Now who's an idiot?
He cries when he's excused from school.
Just think: We'll be in our room all the time.
Nurses will come in. The doctor promised.
I'll only go out for water and stuff to read.
Are you scared?
Do you like schoolwork?
Then what, darn it?
Want to play our game?
Blow your nose.
Look.
I'm hypnotizing you...
But sleep erased her efforts
with large black spokes
spinning like those of a car in the snow.
Blow your nose and go to sleep.
Dargelos...
I have evidence
that is not in your favor.
Your influence on your classmates
is uncanny, in my opinion.
It's unhealthy... but be that as it may.
Yet the fact is
you struck one boy so hard that he's unable
to attend school.
I'm waiting for an explanation.
So what?
- What? - So what?
I forbid you to speak to me like that!
I'll speak any way I want!
Do you grasp the seriousness of your situation?
You're a pain in the ass!
Some pepper?
Pepper?
Help!
Schools have no death penalty,
so Dargelos was expelled
and the principal was sent to the infirmary.
And then?
He walked out without a good-bye to anyone.
- You know his address? - His kind never gives an address.
Then that's all we have left of him.
Bring me the picture.
What's that? You sell hats now?
It's for you.
How ugly.
I like it. You're not so dumb after all.
She hates violets.
But these are imitation. I'll put them in water.
Ignore that freak and bring me Athalie.
The high school
had staged Racine's Athalie for a school celebration.
Dargelos had played the female lead.
He looks like a tiger.
"Even for tiny birds he doth provide.
His goodness nourishes nature far and wide." Let me see.
In his finery, he looked like a tragic actress from 1889.
He's got an ugly mug.
To each his own. Into the treasure chest.
You could consult with me first!
- We're consulting with you. - Then speak!
He threw a snowball at me and pepper at the principal,
and he got expelled.
Well, he's still got an ugly mug.
Gérard, don't tire Paul out.
I must return to Mother and supervise the nurses.
It's not easy. They want to act on their own.
I can't leave them alone for a moment.
She's impossible!
Don't say a word. You'll only talk nonsense.
I've got something amazing to tell you. - What's wrong?
Paul sleepwalks.
I'm sure you'll shout it from the rooftops now.
He walked on the roof?
Have you gone deaf? You're hopeless.
Is that our freak of a friend?
Come in. We won't eat you.
What's that?
SUICIDE IS A DEADLY SIN
You're too nosy for words.
No one is more tactless.
- Except you. - You're too kind!
- Listen... - Leave us alone, I warn you.
Right. That's a warning.
But...
No buts about it!
But nothing!
I'll slap him!
Hit her back!
Cowards! Hitting a woman!
- When I get my own room, it will be clean! - Mine will be cleaner!
He wants a chandelier. - Shut up!
He wants a plaster sphinx on the mantel
and an enameled Louis XIV chandelier.
That's right! And you're too dumb to understand.
I'm not staying here. I'm going to a hotel. My bag is packed.
Let him take care of himself. I refuse to live with this boor.
She slapped me!
- He spit on me! - Liar!
- I dare you to repeat that. - Liar!
I am not!
What's wrong?
Come here.
Look.
I think Mother's dead.
That vision left a lasting impression on them.
Far from causing them pain,
the near-mythical circumstances of their mother's death uplifted them.
The room cried out for the bizarre,
and her bizarre death encased her like a sarcophagus
and unexpectedly assured her-
for young people remember tragic events because of some preposterous detail-
a place of honor in their dream world.
Thirty-three, thirty-three...
Doctor, is there really a hell of a noise?
There's always a hell of a noise.
Is that bad?
Paul, you must take care of yourself.
Is it serious?
No, but we must avoid complications.
He needs peace and quiet.
Oh!
You must see that he gets rest. Mariette will help.
- She's leaving us. - I'll talk her into staying.
Leave me alone with her.
What do you think, Doctor?
Mariette, you lost your grandchild.
You're all alone. Would you abandon these kids?
I'll handle the expense.
Do they frighten you?
Can you not breathe in here?
No, what they breathe is lighter than air.
Splendid. You'll keep order.
Impossible, Doctor.
Then you'll oversee their disorder. May I count on you?
One can't help loving them.
Tell me when you need money.
You're very kind.
Not at all.
I'm just fond of them, like you.
If only they could go to the seashore.
No, Doctor, this is Gérard. I'll let you speak to my uncle.
What is it?
Ah, it's you, Doctor.
No, it's not impossible.
But I don't want any problems. My vacation is short enough as it is.
Gérard may invite them if he likes,
provided he takes care of them.
Why, no, they're very welcome.
Excuse me, Doctor, but I'm late.
No, don't thank me.
Elisabeth went from being a shrew to a nursemaid.
She treated Paul like a mental defective, a useless zero,
a poor wreck to be pitied.
- Know what Gérard suggested? - Something stupid.
He's taking us to the seashore.
- The seashore? - Yes! We'll get to see the sea.
You know anything about traveling?
No, but the main thing is to look like you do.
We mustn't look foolish. We need lots of luggage!
There they are!
Hurry and board, kids.
Gérard, those wildcats of yours seem very tame.
My little brother is a bit shy.
Bitch!
Look at the ladder.
One sleeps up top, the other down below. It's fun.
And here's your washbasin.
You think it's our first time in a sleeping car?
You've never been out of your room.
If you'd been out as much as us...
Just ignore this character.
I'll leave you then.
He's so pretentious.
- Where are the beds? - One above the other.
That's just like Gérard, the know-it-all!
Well, he's wrong. There must be a hammock.
A hammock?
Someone's knocking. - Open the door.
No, that's the washbasin!
Come in.
First seating for dinner. Shall I make up the beds?
Please do.
Coming to dinner?
Paul, the dining car!
Don't stand there like a dummy!
It took considerable effort to hide their excitement.
With a natural flair for style,
these children, who knew nothing of the world
and for whom this train was the height of luxury,
managed to act completely at ease.
You took the top bunk, of course.
I left you the lower bunk 'cause you're sick.
I want you to come down.
We'll get separate rooms at the hotel, so I'm starting now.
Elisabeth, I want you to come down.
- Don't you feel well? - I don't want you above me.
What a pest!
Is that why you wouldn't come down? What is that?
What? A clothespin. It gives you a Greek profile.
- You're crazy. - Well, at least my chin isn't weak!
- And mine is? - Yes!
You should wear a rubber band at night and never show your profile.
Let me sleep.
Is that why you made me come down?
Then why?
Lise, does the doctor think I'll die?
- You idiot! - Am I going to die?
Yes! So die and leave me alone. I won't be free until you're dead.
Your chin!
Are you telling the truth?
I never tell the truth.
Please turn off the light.
I don't know how. You do it! I'm not your servant!
You make me sick!
That's just how I feel.
And watch your accent. - What accent?
Father's accent.
He drank and beat Mother. I don't like hearing it. Good night!
All fire and ice, she despised anything lukewarm.
She was a thoroughbred and wanted Paul to be one too.
On a night train for the first time,
instead of listening to the engine's drumming,
she devoured her brother's face,
while mad cries, a flowing mane of cries,
floated over the sleeping passengers.
You haven't looked at the sea.
The sea is the sea. Mind your own business.
I won't sleep in a bathroom!
You can't sleep in my room.
You sleep here. I'll take the bathroom.
It's the only hotel room left. - Her in my room?
I won't sleep in a bathroom!
It's for baths, and I'm going to take one.
It's my bath! I ran the water!
Calm down.
What a joke!
He'd have me sleep in the bathroom, yet he takes my bath!
Get out or I'll throw you out!
- Leave her alone! - My valiant knight!
- I'm getting in! - I'll beat you to it!
- Try it! - You're not stealing my bath!
All settled in, Gérard?
Sorry about this. There may be another free room tomorrow.
Well done.
What's going on? Your friends don't sound happy.
Yes, they are.
Remember: I stick my tongue out first.
When I nudge you, you do the same.
Have a seat, kids.
Any special diet? - No.
To think I was told you were very finicky.
Thanks.
Uncle, I never said that!
I see you like children.
I adore them.
She stuck her tongue out at me.
I must read my mail. Even on vacation, I have work.
He stuck his tongue out at me.
15, 30, 40...
match!
Madame, hitting a child! On vacation! Really!
I'm not as young as you. I don't want a sunburn.
- How much is this? - 495 francs.
Outrageous!
Sorry, but I have no change.
I can make change.
It was stealing for the sheer sake of stealing.
No thought of profit or forbidden fruit.
Being scared to death was the aim.
The rules forbade stealing anything useful.
Come along, kids. Let's not dawdle.
It's raining!
You should have bought an umbrella instead.
It never rains long by the sea.
Something to drink? - No, thanks. We're not thirsty.
In that case, take my cape.
I'll meet you later at the hotel.
Be good now.
I'll keep the boys out of trouble.
Show me what you took.
Never again! I only did it 'cause you made me.
This doesn't count. A brush is useful.
- You think I'm a fool. - No, but I could be wrong.
He has to steal something more difficult.
- The watering can. - I refuse!
Then I'll never speak to you again.
I can't. It's enormous!
I want to see if you've got guts.
Don't "Elisabeth" me! Just do it!
Take the cape. - What for?
To hide the can. And no one's out in the rain.
- Oh, please! - Go on! We'll be watching.
Hello, Mariette.
What healthy faces! All tanned!
Did you have a good time? - Very good.
- Did you behave? - Yes!
We brought you something.
Now you've got somewhere to put your hot water.
What darlings!
The curtain rose on the bedroom stage at 11:00 p.m.
There were no matinees except on Sundays.
Here's the room where Gérard camps out on the floor,
where a drama is in progress yet no one notices,
where Paul drinks his milk and takes his medicine
and Elisabeth reads her magazines,
where strange forces live that are cast out by Life
because they disturb its mechanisms.
- Answer when you're spoken to! - What?
Your cloth blocks the light. I can't read.
Well, I can. I'm not removing it.
Very well.
Idiot!
She makes me sick with her cream!
She read that American actresses use it.
She thinks it'll help her scalp.
Are you listening?
You're too patient.
Don't listen to that fool.
He didn't just go to bed. He embalmed himself.
He wrapped himself in linens,
set food and treasured objects all around,
and embarked for the underworld.
Want a crayfish?
They set your mouth on fire.
Dirtbag!
She hates crayfish!
She hates the pepper because I like it.
She forces herself.
She burns her mouth on purpose.
- How are they? - Very good.
Gérard, give me one.
Gérard, is anything more despicable
than a 16-year-old jerk begging for a crayfish?
He'd lick the carpet! He'd crawl!
No, make him come over here!
It's nauseating! The big beanpole won't move!
He's dying for one, but he won't lift a finger!
He's shameful.
Gérard, listen.
"I love her poor taste, her garish dress,
her shapeless shawl and addled speech."
Baudelaire. What do you think of that?
That's enough!
The monster! The dirty rat!
Help me, Gérard.
Wipe me off with this towel. Throw the newspaper away.
Careful! Don't be so clumsy!
I was just about to give him one.
You want one?
Careful. The milk's running all over.
Here, you dirty dog. I'm not so mean.
You'll get your crayfish.
Eat.
Eat it or I'll take it away.
You have to see it to believe it.
Here, Paul.
Here's your crayfish.
Look, Gérard, dear. He's chewing in his sleep.
It's the oddest thing.
What a glutton! How revolting!
From that enlightening scene,
Gérard remembered just one thing:
Elisabeth had called him "dear."
Where's Mariette?
I sent her out for sandwiches and drinks.
How horrible!
What's horrible?
Everything!
Horrible!
- Then leave. - I intend to.
With what money?
I'll get a job. I'm sick of being a servant.
I can't bear it another day!
A job? What kind of job?
You know,
Paul is a free man, but he's hopelessly retarded.
Isn't she charming?
What'll become of him if I don't go to work?
I have to find a job!
As a target in a shooting gallery, maybe.
Poor kid. He's still very sick.
A little snowball was enough to end his academic career.
It's not his fault,
but I have an invalid on my hands.
Dirty bitch!
He looks very healthy.
Look at his body. He's strong.
No use looking like a strongman
if you're weak, piggish, and spineless.
Spineless... and clumsy!
Well, sweetheart, you're a clown, a freak,
an ass, too stupid to do anything at all!
So that's how you want to play!
Gérard, his laziness is criminal.
He's murdering me, but I support him!
Go ahead and work! You're only good for one job!
And some job too!
You went too far.
Stay.
You see where things stand.
I beg you, take me to your uncle's fashion house.
I'll work as a salesgirl.
Good for you. Either one works or one dies.
See?
Selling isn't easy. They'll hire you as a model.
Mariette, don't give her any advice.
I'm the man here. I'm the boss.
I don't want a streetwalker for a sister.
I'd only run into you.
Take a look in the mirror. You and your night cream!
They'll kick you out on your rear!
A model? Wrong line of work!
Try scarecrow!
Lout!
Agathe?
This young lady will be modeling ladies' suits.
See that they go easy on her. - Yes, ma'am.
Just call me Elisabeth.
They'll tease you, but they're good girls.
I never thought I'd make it at first. Be brave.
Undress, cutie-pie, and show us your talents.
- You'll have to teach me everything. - I'll say!
I'll teach her. She'll learn quickly.
A pair of orphans!
Don't look so sad.
Just make fun of them right back.
You be the customer, and I'll model a dress.
Sit down.
Smile.
No, don't.
I forgot. Customers never smile.
Approach from a distance
and head straight toward her,
hands on your hips, thumbs forward.
Stare straight at her like you're picking a fight.
Pause.
Turn around slowly.
Face her again.
Look her over from head to toe,
but look right through her.
Then walk away in haughty disdain.
Cross the room and start over with another customer.
Your turn.
I'm the customer.
Perfect!
It's like you've modeled all your life.
You're so sweet. I was scared to death.
Agathe.
Agate is a stone.
We have an agate in our treasure chest. Look.
- Where'd you get my picture? - It's not you.
True, the clothes are different.
This is extraordinary.
It looks exactly like me.
It's me!
Who is it?
It's a boy... the one who hit Paul with a snowball.
He does look just like you.
She looks like him, doesn't she?
The resemblance lurking beneath the surface leapt out.
Paul saw the snowball in Dargelos's hand and felt the blow again.
No, you look like the picture, but not like him.
Put it back in the drawer.
Gérard,
does she look like him?
This has nothing to do with Gérard. Now put it back.
Elisabeth suddenly realized
that all the boxers, detectives and American movie stars
that Paul had pinned on the walls
looked like Agathe and Dargelos.
You worked pretty fast.
Because I let Agathe move into Mother's room? A seedy hotel isn't for her.
Maybe not, but it's Mother's room.
It was Mother's room.
Mother's with us here, not in some empty room.
Well, I don't like having Agathe in the house.
Admit that the resemblance bothers you. It invades your dreams.
Mind your own business!
Am I interrupting?
Yes.
Come in.
I was speaking ill of you.
Elisabeth shouldn't have made you come live here.
I knew I'd be a bother.
Maybe you bother him... everything does...
but you don't bother me. I insist you stay.
Stay! Make yourself at home!
Stay, since haute couture demands it.
You've made her cry. Good going!
You just don't know him yet.
He's a caveman, a boor. - I'd better go.
Go or stay... I don't care either way!
You're no match for me,
so you play tough with weak little Agathe.
Stay out of this! It's complicated enough.
You're quite the psychologist now.
No, but I can read you like a book.
I won't let Agathe be your victim. - What if she likes it?
He admits it!
The monster has found a victim.
Be his victim if you like, but I won't!
Will you let me sleep?
Go on to bed. I need a word with Paul.
And don't cry in your room.
It's just how we are. You must get used to it.
Go to bed and sleep.
What now?
- Paul, darling. - Let me sleep.
Why don't you like her? Because she looks like that guy?
You know why I don't like her?
She's new, and I hate anything new!
I can't live or breathe or play the game.
- We never play the game anymore. - That's your fault.
I had to get out and learn to work.
Exactly.
Paul, darling...
I'll lie down and we'll play the game.
I'm too used to playing it by myself.
Listen.
Yes, listen.
Imagine a great temple of destruction
ruled by 50 high priests.
Four of them enter the inner sanctum.
Thousands of slaves work there,
but not one can reveal what he knows.
Damn it!
I don't understand your temple or what's going on!
I'm going to sleep!
All right, sleep.
Introspection demands a discipline they lacked.
They found only darkness, phantom emotions.
Spying on us now?
I'm doing my duty. That's right!
You're filthy whores, and Gérard is a pimp!
Don't interrupt.
I'm leaving this house so they can bring men here.
I've always said models were nothing but lowlife sluts!
They're both bitches in heat, and you're to blame!
Let him rant. He's grotesque.
No, I must set him straight.
That boy, Michael, knows my uncle.
He's a very rich American Jew.
We wanted you to meet him.
I refuse! I'll slap that low-down Jew in the face!
Good going! You two have corrupted this poor girl.
Are you trying to sell her to that Jew?
I didn't know you were anti-Semitic. Anyway, you're barking up the wrong tree.
Michael wants to marry me, and I like him.
Marry you?
You're mad! Have you looked in the mirror?
Look!
No one would marry you. You're ugly! The queen of the idiots!
He was just making fun of you!
Your chin looks much better when you're angry. Keep it up!
She can marry anyone she likes.
I don't give a damn!
Unlike you. - What does that mean?
Nothing.
Come and meet Michael. You'll like him.
I seriously doubt that.
Why do you keep trying to convince a lunatic?
That's where you're wrong. I accept.
Just to be contrary.
Not at all.
I'd like to meet the guy who can stomach you.
I'd like to console the poor creep.
Come along, Agathe.
Gérard turned his head and looked away.
He'd never dared dream of marrying the virgin of the temple.
Behind him, brother and sister drifted away,
the sanctuary now defiled by a young man in a car
unaware of its taboos.
Here's yet another unoccupied room.
It'll be my bedroom, furnished in Louis XVI.
Won't that be nice!
I'll let Michael have the drawing room, the conservatory, the gym,
the swimming pool, and a very odd gallery that leads nowhere.
You can use Agathe's room at my house when your uncle's away.
- Mother's room. - Now it's Agathe's room.
If Michael goes away, you girls can come back too.
Paul, why don't you live here with us?
No, I need to be alone.
Come on. You've got 18 more rooms to see.
And my gallery that everyone laughs at.
Tell Mariette we'll take over Paul's expenses.
Michael, you're a good guy.
What about your honeymoon?
Who do you think we are? Michael, tell her where you're going.
Tomorrow after our wedding, I'm leaving Elisabeth.
I don't blame you.
While I move in here, he'll start building at Eze.
That's my idea of marriage. When do you come back?
In four days.
I couldn't postpone it, but I wanted the wedding first.
Now feast your eyes!
That colossal storage room,
that immense, absurd dead-end, was Michael's foible,
his smile, his soul's bright light.
It revealed a bizarre streak in him
that made him worthy of the others.
What gave you the idea for this gallery?
Michael wanted to play architect.
He miscalculated, and I love his miscalculations.
We can set up tents and camp here.
Make yourself at home.
- Any ghosts around? - I've never seen one.
With us, there's bound to be one.
But the spirit of the room was watching.
On the road between Cannes and Nice,
Michael was killed.
Look at this mute wreck,
with one lone wheel spinning ever more slowly, like a lottery wheel.
Thank you so much. I have no head for numbers.
Anything over 10 makes me dizzy.
Well, these figures are indeed staggering.
May I somehow return the favor?
Actually, I'm going to Morocco for a month.
Gérard will be all alone.
Perhaps he could stay here with you or with Paul at his house.
He's very depressed.
Paul's moving in here. Gérard must come too.
I have 18 rooms and a gallery.
That would be perfect.
Be brave.
It was a dreadful tragedy. - Dreadful.
Thanks again.
She's as rich as Croesus now.
It won't change a thing.
Yes, it will. I'm moving in here.
She let the servants go except for Mariette and the driver.
Just Mariette, with 18 rooms?
Well, you agreed to move in.
I was very lonely on rue du Rocher.
I've moved in too, so nothing has changed.
Now all we need is Gérard!
- Am I interrupting? - Don't be silly.
- My word, I'm a widow now. - A widow!
Well, I am dressed in mourning.
It's awful to say, but mourning suits you very well.
You think so?
So does callousness.
True, mourning is becoming, but it's fragile.
It doesn't last long.
She's hopeless!
You like your room?
I'm scared all alone on that floor.
I went up to Agathe's because I hate my room.
Charming! Move in with me.
Make room for one more!
I forgot to tell you:
Gérard's uncle is leaving for Morocco. He's coming to stay with us.
All full!
In that abstraction of a room that could be recreated anywhere,
Michael lived on after the accident.
A great mystery was made clear:
Elisabeth hadn't married him for his money,
nor for his elegance or charm.
She'd married him for his death.
Six... seven... eight...
Dear Agathe, would you kindly refrain from counting out loud?
Sorry.
He's so sensitive. The slightest thing disturbs him.
- Shut up! - This is my house and my room!
Gérard, this is my house. Please be quiet.
Then stay in your room! Good night!
Gérard, would you pick up that cover.
Gérard, pick that up and put it back.
I hate untidiness.
Adrift in the nondescript decor of that empty stage,
Paul became a cautious cat, noticing everything.
He stopped and sniffed around the furniture,
unable to connect this room to the schoolyard
or the moonlit silence to the snow.
But with a deep sense of déjŕ vu, he recognized some former life.
His pride had suffered a blow. Agathe had conquered him.
But instead of realizing he loved her
and surrendering to her gentle love,
he fought against what he saw as his nemesis,
a diabolical fate.
In the gallery he found some screens that had never been used.
Like everything else,
they were absurd, useless and awkward.
Paul dragged them out
set them up, and made them into ramparts,
a sort of Forbidden City.
An old carpet completed his masterpiece.
He rolled up in his covers and lay down.
His former bedroom from the rue de Rocher
would gradually take form in the big hall.
The lamp,
the large cloth, the bed,
the chair, the bottles,
the treasure chest,
the mustachioed bust.
Elisabeth, Agathe and Gérard only paid visits at first,
but unable to live outside that exciting landscape of furniture,
they too immigrated fast on Paul's heels.
It's really the only room that works.
It is pleasant.
Paul, it's dreadful being rich.
I'd imagine so.
- Do I look rich? - You?
No, you'll always look like a beggar.
Good. I was afraid I looked rich.
- Well, come in. - May I?
There's a rich lady's question.
Paul, I feel lost.
Lost?
Yes, lost and alone.
I'll never get my room fixed up.
You're not alone. Agathe and Gérard camp out in your room.
No, they stay in their own rooms now. They go out often together.
They do?
I lend them the car and driver. I rarely use them.
What could those two have to talk about?
We intimidate and bewilder them.
Agathe thinks she annoys you. They feel free to talk by themselves.
Good God, about what?
About us.
Those clowns go off together, so you feel lost?
Yes, Paul. Lost.
I wanted my own room, but it's killing me.
Living in a room with you again would be hell. I won't think of it!
Thank God.
I won't think of it, but my own room is killing me.
You were right to bring everything here. You're lucky.
You must be happy here on your desert island,
in your Forbidden City.
It's all right.
Here we could get lost.
Get lost? Where?
I mean play our game.
Oh, that. I'm too old for our game.
Too bad.
Farewell, Paul.
Where are you going?
Nowhere.
Here's the letter Paul just wrote:
'Agathe, I'm mailing this because I don't dare bring it to you myself.
Don't be angry. I love you.
I've been a fool. I thought you meant me harm.
I realize now that I love you
and that if you don't love me back, I'll die.
Answer me, I beg of you. I'm in agony.
I'll be waiting in the gallery. "
Unfortunately, blinded by his sorrow,
Paul wrote his own name instead of Agathe's on the envelope.
She felt ill at the movies. She's gone to her room.
I'll go look in on her.
No, don't. She asked to be left alone.
What did she say?
She thinks Paul left her room because he hates her.
- Eat. - I'm not hungry.
Then go find Paul and grill him.
Find out what he's got against us.
I'll go see Agathe. - She wants to be alone.
I want things too! Now go find Paul.
You know him. He won't tell me anything.
Even so, you might do me a favor just once
and not be such a bumbling idiot!
He'll get mad if I bother him.
He never gets mad anymore. That's what worries me.
Now, now, what's wrong?
Nothing.
Well, it can't be just a runny nose.
It's nothing, I said.
Leave me alone.
I hate myself.
Gérard must have hurt your feelings.
He said something that hurt you.
No. Leave me alone.
- I won't go until you feel better. - Impossible.
Is it that bad?
Heavens! Are you in love?
Leave me alone.
Calm down and blow your nose.
Now tell me all about it.
Tell me!
I love him.
I adore him...
and he despises me.
Silly girl. What right does he have to despise you?
Did he say so? No. So there!
How lucky can he get, the idiot!
If you love him, you must marry him.
Lise, you're very kind, but he doesn't love me.
- Are you sure? - He couldn't love me.
You know, Gérard is very shy.
It's not Gérard.
I meant Paul.
This is astonishing!
I never would have guessed.
What a surprise!
It's funny, and astonishing!
Tell me all about it.
I have nothing to tell.
I fell in love with Paul the moment I saw him.
I didn't dare admit it to myself.
I liked it when he teased and insulted me.
I'd have done anything to be with him,
with all of you.
But now he's avoiding me, and I can't bear it.
I can't bear it!
It's very simple.
I'll talk to Paul.
No! He doesn't know! Please don't!
Don't tell him!
Don't worry. If he loves you, all is well.
I won't give you away.
I'll worm it out of him without him knowing.
Leave it to me and stay in your room.
Let me handle it.
From that moment on, she couldn't rest.
Her heart pounded like a hammer.
It wasn't her mind that dictated her actions.
The spirit of the room took over her body
the way some other spirit might lead a financier
to avoid bankruptcy,
a sailor to save his ship,
or a criminal to establish an alibi.
Paul wants to see you.
He's acting strange.
How's she feeling?
- She wants to be left alone. - I'm going up.
Don't disturb her. Wait in my room while I see Paul.
I've come to see how you are.
Agathe is sick. - Sick?
Not sick, but not well.
She's resting now. I just spoke to her.
- Did she say anything? - About what?
A special-delivery letter.
What letter?
I can't keep it in any longer.
I wasn't going to tell you, but I must. I sent her a letter.
You send letters to people in the house?
I know it's silly,
but I thought a letter arriving unexpectedly
when you were all together
might lend fate a hand.
What did you say in this letter?
That I love her.
You love her?
Yes, Lise. I'm madly in love with her.
I've been wondering what was wrong with me.
I didn't want to admit it.
I'm madly in love with Agathe!
Well, well.
Didn't she say anything? Didn't you notice anything?
I'm the last person anyone would tell.
Silly girl.
Wait here for me, darling.
We must have a serious talk.
She didn't mention any letter, but it couldn't have flown away.
We've got to find it.
Did she act strange?
Or angry? Or upset?
No, she was very calm. She's asleep now.
I'll be right back.
There it was.
The yellow envelope lay crumpled like a dead leaf.
It bore Paul's big, awkward schoolboy scrawl,
but it was addressed, as you know, to himself.
Paul had mistakenly written to Paul.
The mix- up was typical of him. He'd never change.
Well?
I went to Agathe's room.
She's asleep. The envelope is on her dresser.
A yellow envelope.
Like those there.
Didn't she even mention it?
No, and she must never know I saw it.
You mustn't ask her about it.
She'd say she didn't know what we were talking about.
Come now. Don't cry. You're a man.
I didn't want to tell you because you were so depressed...
Tell me what?
Agathe did mention someone,
but it wasn't you.
She loves someone else.
You mistook her for someone else.
Agathe is no Athalie.
The poor girl isn't aiming very high.
Who is it?
Brace yourself.
It's Gérard.
Funny he didn't tell you.
I intimidate him, but you don't.
He probably thought you'd laugh at them.
Be sensible. It's only natural.
She's a silly goose, and he's a nice guy.
They're made for each other.
When Gérard's uncle dies, he'll be rich.
They'll start a nice little family.
Nothing stands in their way.
It would be monstrous... criminal... to get in their way.
You can't do that. You acted on impulse,
but impulse can't fight real love.
It's a grotesque marriage!
True, but all the same, you must grin and bear it.
Lise, you're asking the impossible.
Don't be silly.
It's clear she wants to ignore the letter
as a mere impulse and not hold a grudge.
You do the same and keep quiet.
- I'd better leave. - That would be absurd.
Just act like nothing's happened.
Their engagement will take her mind off it,
and then they'll be off on their honeymoon.
Come on now.
Her work was not yet done.
She knew instinctively that killers strike blow after blow,
without a moment to catch their breath.
Like a nocturnal spider she moved along,
spinning her web into the furthest reaches of the night,
working slowly, effortlessly, untiringly.
Well?
Will you ever learn to stop shouting?
I'm sorry. I'm on edge.
Paul's sick.
He's too dense to notice, but it's obvious he has a fever.
The doctor will know if it's the flu or a relapse.
I ordered him to stay in bed and not to see you.
- I'm going to see him. - Stay here.
We have to talk.
What do you plan to do about Agathe?
Do?
Why?
Who do you think you're fooling?
You know she loves you and is confused by your silence.
Yes, Agathe!
Are you blind? With all the time you spend together!
She loves you but thinks you love me,
which is crude and vulgar, considering my wealth!
You'd like to escape through a secret trap door, but there is none.
Stop giving me those dreamy-eyed looks.
Marry Agathe and never reveal my role in this.
You're forcing me to do this.
She must never know
that she owes her happiness to me, so to speak.
I can't believe this!
Now that that's settled, go to bed.
I'll go tell her the good news.
You love her, but you had delusions of grandeur.
Wake up and be happy.
Kiss me and admit you're the happiest man alive.
If that's what you want.
Good boy. I'll go tell her.
Listen to me. Paul is incapable of love.
He can't love anyone.
That self-centered monster would destroy himself... and you with him!
- I'll die. - No, you won't.
Gérard is a fine, honest boy. He loves you.
He can offer you a future.
Deep down you love him. You do!
- Does Paul know? - He doesn't even suspect.
He's delighted that you and Gérard are in love.
Blithely announce that you're marrying Gérard, and he'll never suspect.
He'd never guess in a million years,
and he mustn't ever find out.
Thank you, Lise.
You're very kind.
Don't thank me.
I couldn't stand by and let him hurt you.
Now go to sleep.
She felt calm, inhuman and unburdened.
But at the foot of the stairs, her heart began pounding again.
She saw Paul approaching
under the spell of another sleepwalking trance.
'All the perfumes of Arabia
will not sweeten this little hand. "
With downcast eyes,
she washed those frightening hands.
I don't understand this relapse.
And he should be in a more comfortable room.
He won't move.
Try to convince him. He needs fresh air.
He doesn't look ill.
It's that red lamp that fools you.
Look at him in bright light.
I don't like how he looks.
Don't leave him alone.
I've told you not to touch that lamp.
I wanted to see your face.
What did the doctor say?
That you don't look good.
- Are Agathe and Gérard back? - They're coming for lunch tomorrow.
I'll get up and have lunch with you.
That's one sight I can't miss.
Are you happy?
Very.
Does he beat you?
Poor Gérard. I'm not always easy to be with.
Guess whom I met in Marseilles.
I'll never guess.
Dargelos.
- Oh, yes. - Has he changed?
He's a bit paler. Like you.
You'd swear he was Agathe's brother.
He's not arrogant anymore. He's very friendly.
He travels to Indochina often for some car company.
I went to his hotel room and he asked
if I ever saw Snowball... the guy hit by the snowball...
meaning you. - And?
I said yes, and he asked, "Does he still like poison?"
Poison? What for?
Just to have it, to know it's there, to look at it.
It's marvelous!
- How ghastly! - What's so ghastly?
I used to make fake poison and label the bottles.
They're both mad. You'll end up in prison.
Dargelos showed me poison from India, China and Mexico.
He said, "At school, Snowball dreamed of collecting poison,
but I'm collecting it now." Wait a minute.
A gift from Dargelos.
Let's see it.
The poison brought their conversation to a halt.
It was fascinating yet revolting,
like a nest of snakes that looks like one many-headed serpent.
It gave off a heavy odor
off pestilence and geraniums.
Maybe it's a drug. He wouldn't give you poison.
Don't touch. I'll tell you.
The natives use it to make poison arrows.
Gérard, it smells vile!
Don't give it to him. He'll do something reckless.
Paul? Just watch!
Eat it!
Stop it!
Reckless, eh? What a brave man!
Idiot! Eat it yourself!
You'd like that. No, thanks.
I'll put it in our treasure chest.
Put it in a tin box. The smell's overpowering.
She put it away slowly and carefully, her tongue between her lips,
like a woman casting a spell
or sticking a pin in a voodoo doll.
Paul, throw that away.
It's no more dangerous than the gun in our treasure chest.
Our prize relic.
Give it back to Gérard and let him throw it away.
Agathe, neither Paul nor I can stand pettiness.
And don't you forget it.
It was a Sunday. Snow was falling.
Elisabeth had stayed in bed all day.
She slept and dreamed.
She dreamed Paul had died and was walking oddly.
She took a path called the Blue Path
because it led to the blue carpet from the gallery.
She wore a new and unfamiliar dressing gown,
unlike the old bathrobes she preferred.
She climbed a mound of earth.
She passed behind a screen,
but the Forbidden city was no longer.
She saw Paul lying on a billiard table.
In her dream, it was called Gloomy Hill.
She reached Gloomy Hill and leaned over Paul.
Her left hand touched the automatic clicker.
Her other hand rested on Paul's.
Paul said, "Listen to the farewell bell."
He no doubt meant
the ticktack of the clicker.
I was afraid the door might be locked.
I still have a key. How is Paul?
Asleep as usual, I suppose. What's wrong?
He wrote me that he was going to take poison!
Mariette must have delivered the letter.
- He must have been joking. - Some joke!
Paul, answer me!
Lise, don't stand there. Call the doctor.
He's gone to the country.
It's Sunday.
No one's around.
Hurry! Get him some hot coffee!
Cover him with your coat!
Paul, look at me. Speak to me.
Water...
Don't scare me like this.
Speak to me. What did that awful letter mean?
It's your fault.
My fault?
Yes, your fault.
Paul explained what had happened,
pouring out the truth in broken whispers.
Agathe listened in stunned silence.
The poison's stench spread through the room
as the plot's devious mechanisms were unfurled.
Elisabeth lied! I told her I loved you!
She lied!
You must live!
It's too late, Agathe.
Paul, don't drink it!
You'd think I meant to poison him.
I wouldn't put it past you.
You're out of your mind!
Monster!
Filthy monster!
Maybe I'm a monster,
but I'm not a coward. I didn't want to lose you.
I loathe Agathe. I couldn't let her take you away.
She's going to shoot!
This is how it must be.
I have to make life unbearable, make it sick of me.
I have to make the game despise me so it will spew me forth,
so it will spit in my face!
I must become hideous!
She'll kill me! She's gone insane!
Help!
No, I haven't gone insane. You're wrong.
You're the one who's insane.
I must hold out to the end, and the end's a long way off.
I must live it all, and it won't be easy.
Paul, look at me.
Can you hear me?
I know you can. You have to try.
Don't let go. Count with me.
Count, add, multiply. I'll lead the way.
Come on! Walk!
Don't let go! Keep moving!
I've gotten lost. You're under my spell!
I'm hypnotizing you!
Help!