In His infinite wisdom, the Lord has seen fit
to take from us a just and courageous friend.
That Simon Cordier in the prime of his manhood
should have come to his death as he did,
makes his passing even a greater shock
to those he has left behind.
As one of France's most respected magistrates,
Simon Cordier dedicated his life to the betterment of humanity.
All that Simon Cordier was can be summed up in these words:
He was a good man.
May God have mercy on his soul.
(DEATH BELLS)
Make him Eternal...
(SPEAKING LATIN)
All those fine words. I'm glad he's dead.
Mr. D'Arville, Miss Jeanne.
It was Magistrate Cordier's wish before he died
that we all assemble after the funeral.
My daughter and I are willing to respect the wishes of the dead.
More so than if he were living.
We will see you at the gallery, then.
Yes.
Why Magistrate Cordier should have entrusted this task
to my daughter and to me, I do not know.
Our feelings toward him are no secret.
As Father Borman knows, this chest and the letter
were given to my daughter by Magistrate Cordier
the night he died.
The letter written by the Magistrate says that if he died that night,
then, this chest must not be opened until immediately after the funeral.
But why would he think he might die?
Surely, it was an accident.
Father Borman, my investigation proved that it was not suicide.
The letter requested that we be present when the chest is opened,
since it involved matters important to all of you.
The chest, Mr. D'Arville, please.
A book?
It seems to be a personal diary.
And a note.
"I speak to you from the grave."
"In the sanctuary of my coffin, I can state certain facts
which I could not do while I was alive.
If I had attempted to do so before my death,
I would have been judged insane,
and my warning to mankind would have gone unheeded."
Warning?
What do you know about this?
Nothing, I swear it, Captain.
I did not know the Magistrate even kept a diary.
That is the truth.
"Do not regard with cynicism what you learn now.
Once you have heard the contents of my diary,
the future will be in your hands.
God be with you, for you will need His help."
Perhaps that is why the Magistrate wanted you to be here.
Please, Mr. D'Arville, the diary.
SIMON: September 17, 1886.
The strange events which occasion me to begin this diary
started three days before the murderer Louis Girot
was to go to the guillotine.
And police captain Rennedon came to my chambers at the tribune.
Oh, Captain.
Is Magistrate Cordier busy?
He's just come from the court.
(KNOCKING ON DOOR)
Come in.
Captain Rennedon, sir.
Oh, tell him to come in.
- Well, Robert. - Simon.
This is a pleasure, unless, of course, you've brought me trouble.
I don't think I have, considering your endless studies of the criminal mind,
which I'll never understand.
It concerns Louis Girot. He wants to talk to you.
Oh, does he want to change the testimony he gave at the trial?
A strange fish, Girot.
It's hard to tell what he wants.
Well, he goes to the guillotine in three days.
Perhaps it's his conscience.
A confession?
Maybe. It is possible.
As you say, he is a strange fish.
Girot murdered four people, without motivation.
He didn't know any of them. He didn't rob them.
He just killed.
Yes, the case is most perplexing.
Which means that you're curious enough to see him.
To me, a thief is a thief, a murderer is a murderer.
Life is much simpler that way.
- Shall we go? - Yes.
There we are.
I'd better go in with you.
No, he might talk more if we were alone.
All right, I'll wait here. Guard.
Magistrate Cordier, thank you for coming.
It's the only hospitality I can offer you.
Captain Rennedon believed
you might be ready to make a statement, Girot.
A statement? Perhaps.
But what is it you want me to say?
Something I did not say at the trial?
If there is truth in it.
Can't you understand, Magistrate?
I told the truth at the trial.
I swear to you.
It was something that... that used me.
Just as if it took my body and made me murder.
Please, Girot, you seem to be a man of some intelligence.
And in three days, my intelligence will be chopped off at the neck.
Do you think that I would go on lying,
knowing that I'm going to die?
But a man doesn't kill four people without reason.
It was a thing that possessed me that had the reason.
It lives on evil and grows stronger and stronger.
Please, Girot, sit down.
I didn't even know until afterward that I had killed.
It had control of my mind. I had no will of my own.
It forced me to murder.
I couldn't accept this testimony before.
Do you expect me to believe it now?
I had never thought that hatred is evil.
- Hatred is evil. - But that's in you.
And it used that to feed on my will until it owned me.
Girot, I'm sorry, I had hoped you'd be able to give me some...
But do you know why I never asked for a new trial?
I want to die.
Because so long as I live, the thing can make me kill again.
Girot, what is it? Your eyes...
It can even make me...
kill you!
Girot!
Guard!
(GUARD TRYING TO OPEN DOOR)
He tried to kill me.
I warned you, murderers, they're all the same.
Humanity would be much better off without them.
Call the doctor, hurry!
Is he badly hurt?
There'll be no need to chop in the guillotine.
Dead?
But it was so sudden.
One moment he was completely rational, and then...
This is terrible, Robert, I...
If anything, I wanted to help him.
You had to defend yourself. It was an accident.
Besides, I'd say you did help him.
This is a much easier way to die.
SIMON: For the next two days, I returned home from my work at the court
with the death of the murderer Girot still on my mind.
Despite Rennedon's assurance of my innocence,
somehow the accident still disturbed me,
and I could not rid myself of the depression
that weighed so heavily.
- Good evening, sir. - Good morning, Pierre.
Sir, I'll tell you Louise's secret.
She's preparing your favorite dinner, baked lamb!
Oh, that's fine, but I... I think I need a cognac before.
- In the study, please. - Yes, sir.
(BIRDS TWITTERING)
Well, Kiki, you're in fine voice.
You must have been practicing all day.
And just because you've been so industrious,
you, too, are going to have a special dinner.
There you are.
(CHUCKLES)
Pierre!
Sir.
Why did you put this back in here?
I...? But I haven't even seen it since you...
Would I do such a thing?
But it was hanging there on the wall, Pierre.
Who's been in the house?
Only Louise and myself.
Pierre, what is it? What has happened?
I... I'm not sure.
You remember the large photograph of Mrs. Cordier and the boy?
Oh, the one that used to be in the study?
It was back there tonight.
But how could that be?
It was put away in that trunk with the other things.
Yes.
(DOOR SQUEAKING)
(CHEST CREAKS)
"Hatred is Evil."
Those were Girot's words.
PIERRE: Sir?
Pierre.
Somebody must have been up here.
First, the picture, and then...
then the writing on the pedestal.
Writing?
Yes, in the dust there.
It was there!
Perhaps it's just the light. You only thought that...
Pierre, I'm not in the habit of seeing things that do not exist.
Of course not, sir.
Why is this happening?
They've been dead so long.
I thought the past was behind me.
I put the cognac in the study, sir.
Thank you.
(DOOR CLOSING)
- Well? - It's very strange.
He looks so pale. Perhaps he's ill.
I'll see if he'll have dinner.
Sir, shall I tell Louise to serve dinner?
Pierre, you had ample time to know Mrs. Cordier well before she died.
Why, yes, sir.
You know that both she and the boy meant a great deal to me.
Of course, sir.
Perhaps memories are suddenly unlocked in a man's mind.
And he has dreams, nightmares.
I can only surmise
that such memories of my wife and my son have returned.
Pierre, after I have gone to sleep at night,
have I ever left my bedroom?
I'm not sure I understand, sir.
But I mean sleepwalked, wandered in my sleep
because of a dream, a nightmare...
I don't know, sir. Our room is in the other wing.
I must have.
There has to be a logical explanation.
Tell Louise that I'll have my dinner shortly.
Yes, sir.
SIMON: My wife and son have been dead for 12 years.
Why should these strange things be happening,
now, only since the death of Louis Girot?
- Good morning, Martin. - Good morning, sir.
Would you bring me the Costane brief, please?
- Yes, sir. - Thank you.
- The Costane brief, sir. - Thank you.
Did you have any reason for leaving this here?
"Trial testimony of Louis Girot..."
The prisoner who... who died the other day?
No, sir, I didn't take it out of the file.
It was on my desk.
MARTIN: The office was locked.
Could you have put it there before you left last night?
Yes.
Yes, that's possible.
Perhaps I was so upset by what happened,
I didn't remember.
Yes, sir, it must have been most unnerving.
Yes, that will be all, Martin. Thank you.
(DOOR CLOSES)
Martin, will you find the superintendent of the building?
I want you to ask him if anyone of the cleaning people
could have taken the Girot testimony from the file.
- Immediately, sir. - Thank you.
(VOICE LAUGHING IN THE BACKGROUND)
SIMON: Is someone here?
(VOICE LAUGHING)
VOICE: Magistrate Cordier.
Since Louis Girot is dead,
you have no further use for his papers.
You deprived me of Girot's body, his mind, his will.
Now I will have yours.
What's the matter with me?
Can I be as sick as Girot?
(WIND HOWLING)
SIMON: I was determined to take my place on the bench that day,
despite the fears I had for my sanity.
But suddenly, I felt I couldn't go on.
It was impossible for me to concentrate.
I hadn't even heard the arguments of the attorneys.
I knew I would have to call a recess and leave for the day.
VOICE: Very interesting, Magistrate.
I've been waiting patiently to see what you would write.
You still think I exist only in your mind.
(VOICE LAUGHS)
Men's logic has always denied my existence.
Since we have only begun to know each other,
perhaps we should come closer to the truth.
Rise, Simon Cordier.
Life and death are the only truths.
Everything else is illusion.
Yourself...
Your love for a useless bird in a cage.
Death is a truth, Magistrate.
Prove it.
Prove it now!
(VOICE LAUGHING)
Kiki, where are you?
How did you get out?
How does one explain what one cannot see, Dr. Borman?
I hear this voice as though someone is in the room with me.
But I am alone. No one else is there.
And it was this voice that urged you to kill your pet?
Well, how else can I explain it?
The photograph, the writing in the dust,
the trial testimony on your desk,
the overturned inkwell, and the voice...
Do you feel they are all related?
Somehow, yes, yes.
It is you who relate them,
for they are all from your own imagination.
Science does not accept gnomes, ghosts, demons, images of evil.
The things you've told me
about the tragic death of your wife and son,
the abnormal loneliness you've lived in for the past 12 years...
No, thank you.
A man can torture himself just so long that it must end,
or the mind will break under the strain.
I'm not sure what you mean.
- You want my help. - Yes.
Will you do as I say?
Now, Doctor, if there's hope, I'll do anything.
A doctor always has hope.
Hope of curing his patient, hope that his bill will be paid.
Of course there's hope.
Then, I've come to the right man.
I've never had reason before to go to an alienist.
However, I can't cure you.
- You have to cure yourself. - Oh?
You have to change your life.
Get out of yourself.
Never submit to loneliness.
You said you used to sculpt?
In my younger days, I was quite interested in art.
Fine. Become interested again.
Get away from this existence you've been leading.
Associate with people in the art world.
Find something to sculpt and start sculpting.
Take a vacation from your work.
Doctor, I have so many cases at court, I...
I can only give you the prescription.
The medicine, you must take yourself.
Well, thank you. Talking to you has been most reassuring.
I can't tell you how relieved I am.
Then, I've served my purpose.
Let me hear from you again in a few weeks.
- Good-bye. - Good-bye, Doctor.
(WOMAN LAUGHING)
Red wine! Red wine!
How emotional, sensual, huh?
Nudes that like nudes!
You know what's the matter with you? You're a woman!
And you know what's the matter with you?
You're a pig!
- I'm a pig? I'm a pig? - WOMAN: You're a pig!
MAN: Who taught you all you know about...?
(QUARRELLING CONTINUES)
ODETTE: Why don't you buy me, sir?
It will be an act of charity. The artist could use the money.
You're the model, aren't you?
Would you believe that I know nothing at all about ballet?
No. Well, then, either you have the natural grace of a dancer
or the artist gave it to you.
You are an artist?
Well I... I like to sculpt.
Oh, sculptors are always covered with clay and stone dust and...
and have no money.
Perhaps amateurs are more fortunate.
Oh? Then, perhaps, you have enough money for me to pose for you.
Do I not inspire you?
Yes, I think so.
Let me see.
A Greek goddess perhaps.
Oh, so serious.
Of course.
- Why not Heinrich Heine, then? - Who?
Heine. He once wrote a wonderful poem.
It was called "Woman".
Oh, I didn't think any man knew women.
Each of the four stanzas is about a different situation
going from gaiety to tragedy,
and yet, each of the stanzas ends with the same words:
"And she laughed."
'Cause I think you would always laugh.
And that is the way you would like to sculpt me?
As a girl who can laugh at life?
Yes.
Good. For your laughing woman,
I shall charge you 10 francs an hour to pose.
Agreed.
You're not going to haggle over the price?
No, it's very reasonable.
Here's my address.
I'll expect you this evening at 8:00
so we can begin the preliminary sketches.
My name is Odette Mallotte. I shall be there.
- Good-bye, Odette. - Good-bye.
Simon Cordier.
Magistrate...
(CHATTERING)
Good afternoon.
- Oh, Odette. - Jeanne.
How are you, Odette?
I've seen bigger crowds than this.
There are always more customers at night.
Well, let's hope they show more enthusiasm than these.
It doesn't matter. I have faith in Paul's work.
After all, Odette, it is Paul's first show.
It takes time for an artist to become popular.
Of course, Jeanne.
We all have Paul's interests at heart, don't we?
He's in the office having coffee.
Oh, hello, darling.
I thought there would be more customers by the time you got here.
Six rich ones are better than twenty poor ones.
- Anybody buy? - Yeah, the small seascape.
The one where I posed on the rock?
30 francs.
30 francs?
Oh, Paul.
Paint, canvas, a frame?
Your time and my time for 30 francs?
Well, the larger ones will bring more.
Oh, what is Andre doing, trying to sell them by the yard?
Well, at least I'm going to make some money.
- You? - I have a job, posing.
When you married me, you said you'd give up posing for anyone else.
I didn't say I'd give up eating.
Well, at least we starve together.
Odette, you know how much I love you.
Oh, love!
Love! A man says the word so easily!
Do I have to wait until you're an old man
before I can get a new dress, until I can feel like a woman again?
Have I ever failed to make you feel like a woman?
10 francs an hour.
We need the money, Paul.
Who is this artist who can afford so much money?
You're jealous? Yeah, my husband?
Yes.
You worry too much.
What man could know me better than you?
There, for luck.
Sell a lot of paintings,
and we'll share a bottle of wine when I return, all right?
(DOOR CLOSES)
- Mrs. Mallotte? - Yes.
Come in, please.
I'll tell Magistrate Cordier that you are here. Please.
8:00 exactly. You are most prompt.
Oh, well, the time of a magistrate is important.
And is your time not important?
Oh, the more I look at clocks, the more they keep saying,
"Here it is tomorrow already, and you're a day older."
Only at my age is each day so valuable.
Where do you work?
The studio is upstairs. Come.
When he brought home the clay and said to clean up the attic,
I knew everything was going to be all right.
- She's beautiful. - Yes.
It's been a long time
since we've seen a woman go up those stairs.
Oh, how nice!
It'll be a pleasure to pose for once in a studio that isn't drafty.
Most artists can't even afford heat.
Well, the house is quite old but very well built.
I think my ancestors demanded their comfort.
Are those were the ones who frowned at me in the hall downstairs?
The portraits?
I assure you, they frown at everyone.
Is your laughing lady to laugh with or without her clothes on?
No, it won't be a nude.
Oh, that's right.
There should be nothing to detract from the expression on her face.
You know quite a good deal about art, don't you?
One listens, one learns.
Where shall I pose?
Oh, I'm sorry, right here. The light is best here.
All right.
Let's see.
You want the head, throat, and bare shoulders.
Yes.
I'm afraid I've forgotten how to compliment a beautiful woman.
I hope perhaps the clay will be able to do it for me.
There. Down a little.
Now, the expression, Odette. The expression. Gaiety.
Think of something to laugh about.
Oh, that's simple. Life is full of things to laugh at.
There!
There, that's it. That's the expression.
Now, keep it just like that.
SIMON: The sketches are finished, and I have begun the actual working of the clay.
My eagerness to capture Odette's laughing quality,
which is gay yet strangely enigmatic,
has found me sculpting for long hours without realizing it.
But the girl has held the difficult pose without complaining.
It is indeed flattering that she shares my dedication to the work.
The nightmares have not returned, and I feel so much better now.
It is as if all the dark corners of my mind
have been filled with bright sunlight.
There! We've done it.
We've brought highness point to life.
You are the laughing woman.
Why not? Heine was writing about me all the time.
It's good! It's really good!
I am now immortal.
You have created me.
You are my master, and I thank you.
You really like it? I hoped you would.
But what happens to me now?
Do I stay up here like all the rest of your statues to gather dust?
No, that wouldn't give her much to laugh about, would it?
Perhaps you should do something new
to keep her company.
Oh, what would you like?
Oh, I don't know.
Oh, of course. A life-size figure of me.
Then, she could look at herself, and you would know why she's laughing.
You don't take yourself seriously at all, do you?
Now you've returned to being the magistrate
who wants to know about people.
Why should you want to know about me?
I've posed, the work is finished.
I will leave.
Sometime I might just do that life-sized figure of you.
Tonight you think that. Tomorrow...
You know what I am?
Perfume.
Your 10 francs an hour bought it.
And that is all you will remember of me.
The scent of a perfume that was once in this room.
No, really, Odette, I...
Sensitive enough to be an artist.
Strong enough to be a man who can judge others.
You're an unusual man, Simon.
That is what I will remember of you.
Thank you, Odette. You're very kind.
When you told me your wife had died many years ago,
I thought, "How fine she looks.
She must have meant a great deal to him."
And yet, you keep her locked away up here.
I've wondered why.
It was the way she died.
She wasn't buried from the church.
But surely she must have been a good woman.
She took her own life.
And you never forgave her.
I...
It was in the past.
Perhaps she didn't know how to laugh at herself.
Odette, I'm grateful to you in more ways than you know.
I think I will miss this attic.
If I have another idea for a new work, I'll call on you.
Now, the coach is waiting.
- Good-bye, Simon. - Good-bye, Odette.
(VOICE LAUGHING)
VOICE: What is it, Magistrate?
Are you wondering how so important a man
can fail to see himself in a mirror?
Now, come, Simon Cordier, you should know by now
that I am real, that I am not a dream.
Common sense should tell you that the reason you can't see yourself
is that someone stands between you and the mirror.
What?
VOICE: I am that someone.
That should assure you that my physical being is quite solid,
even if your eyes can't see me.
That's not possible.
I do not believe it.
(BOX SMASHES)
You are there!
Then, why can't I see you?
VOICE: Calm yourself, Magistrate.
I will give you back your reflection.
You see, as good as new.
Tell me what's happening.
Are you human?
VOICE: That depends on the point of view.
If you mean, do the Horla live on the earth as you do?
Yes, you are not the sole inhabitants.
The Horla?
But if you are here...
VOICE: We have always been We just exist on different planes.
We can move into your plane only when you make it possible.
I don't understand.
How could I have made it possible?
VOICE: Through evil, Magistrate.
But I have fought evil all my life.
VOICE: The great Magistrate,
the dispenser of justice for one and all.
You're a murderer, Simon Cordier.
I have never murdered anyone!
VOICE: This was your victim, Magistrate.
You drove her to suicide.
You tortured her mind until she took her own life.
No.
VOICE: She was innocent, yet you judged her guilty.
You blamed her for the death of your son.
(FRAME SMASHING)
Forgive me.
VOICE: Now I am here, and I will never leave you.
Why? What do you want?
VOICE: Your will, Magistrate.
Your evil has delivered you to me.
I've paid for my sins.
VOICE: You thought your loneliness was repentance for your wife's death.
(VOICE LAUGHS)
All it did was make you vulnerable.
Look, Magistrate. Look at the clay you finished sculpting tonight.
You wanted to believe that your model was what she pretended to be.
But this is what she really is.
You see evil in everything!
VOICE: Only where it exists.
No. No, she is as I saw her.
(VOICE LAUGHING)
(DOOR OPENING)
Pierre! Pierre, come up here at once.
- What is it? - I don't know.
Sir?
Pierre.
The clay. Tell me, what do you see?
Why, it's changed, sir.
Yes. Yes, I wanted you to see.
But why, sir? Why is it changed?
Thank you, Pierre. That will be all.
Leave me alone now, please.
SIMON: All my life I had sought knowledge,
and now I was granted knowledge rarely granted other men.
No more hideous fact could have been conceived to terrify my mind.
The Horla really live.
They cannot be seen.
Still, they are tangible, composed of solid matter.
And only the Lord knows
if they are flesh and blood as we are.
Why are they here?
Why has their evil been turned loose upon the earth?
(WIND HOWLING)
VOICE: You tremble, Magistrate? Why?
Perhaps I will be a gentle and kind master.
Get out! Leave me alone!
But I want to help you.
There. No reason we shouldn't be comfortable, is there?
You do not believe that the woman who posed for you
is without a heart,
that your riches, your position, are the goal of her evil ambition.
It makes no difference. I'll never see her again.
VOICE: Don't you want to prove that I'm wrong?
The woman means nothing to me.
VOICE: She will.
What are you saying?
VOICE: You will pursue her, Magistrate.
You will seek to create love where there is no love.
No, I will not. I tell you, I will not!
VOICE: Your will obeys me from this moment on.
You have no choice.
She is a vain woman, Magistrate.
The painting of her, the one that brought you together,
it would appeal to that vanity.
I thought I'd never live to see it,
the face of another woman where Mrs. Cordier's had been.
There are so many strange things happening in this house.
They're coming.
And you won't tell me what the surprise is?
Well, why spoil it?
Seeing you this soon again was enough of a surprise.
Did you really think I'd let you get away so easily?
I thought you were only interested in clay women.
- Good afternoon, sir. - Good afternoon, Pierre.
Tell Louise that we'll want her finest dinner, and champagne.
- '81 was a good year. - Yes, sir.
Champagne? You're filled with surprises.
Well, I want this to be a most memorable day.
The suspense is positively unbearable.
(GASPS)
My painting!
Oh, Simon, why? Why did you buy it?
Well, it was such an ugly empty space there.
Well, I think it's quite decorative, don't you?
Well, is that the only reason you brought me here, to get my opinion?
Well, can you think of a more charming audience for such a charming painting?
I'm overwhelmed.
Well, then, perhaps this memorable day will...
will lead to many such days.
I'm not sure what you mean.
Well, it's really quite simple.
You see, after you left here last night,
I suddenly realized that both the house and my heart
were quite empty.
Oh, and yesterday I thought I'd never see you again.
Oh, Simon, you...
you gave me no indication that you felt this way.
And I realize that I'm much older than you are.
Oh, no, please, I'm flattered.
Can't you understand?
All those weeks we were together, I was the one who cared.
Very well, then, defendant, how to you plead?
I don't know whether I'm innocent of guilty feelings
or guilty of innocent feelings.
Are you wondering if I am proposing marriage?
- Marriage? - Would you accept less?
Oh, Simon, I...
I only know I love you.
Then, I will pronounce the sentence.
Turn around, turn around.
Oh, Simon.
Oh, Simon, it's lovely.
Thank you, Simon.
Would it answer your question if I told you that that cameo
once belonged to my wife?
Oh, Simon.
When she came home last night, she was a stranger to me,
as though I had never known her.
Nothing I said made any difference.
She just laughed when I told her
that the ballet painting had been sold for 100 francs.
You mean she's already taken the new apartment?
Yeah, moved into it this morning.
Oh, Paul, I'm terribly sorry.
Am I supposed to accept it? What do I do, Jeanne?
She always wanted so much.
Why couldn't she have waited for your success?
As you would?
She's my wife, not a friend. There's a difference.
Yes, there's a difference.
I found this in her dresser drawer after she'd moved.
A magistrate?
Yes, a rich man, a man of position.
Who else do we know could afford 10 francs an hour?
But how can you be sure?
When she left, she said she was going to have
all the things I could never give her.
I didn't know what she meant then. I do now.
Paul, she's still married to you.
Yes.
And as long as she is, that's the one thing he can't give her.
To my future wife, who taught me how to laugh again.
Simon.
Simon, would it matter very much to you
if we didn't announce the wedding just yet?
Wait? But why?
Well, there's something I must take care of first.
But surely there's nothing so important that...
Oh, Simon, trust me, please.
Of course, my dear.
But I wanted to open our place on the lake at Lucerne.
The weather is still fine, and our honeymoon could be...
Oh, darling, I promise you, nothing will stop us from having that honeymoon.
Pardon, sir, there's someone to see you.
- At this hour? - Mr. Duclasse.
(GASPS)
Duclasse, the artist?
Yes.
Well, have him wait.
What is it, Odette?
I wanted to have it settled before I told you.
Well, does Duclasse mean anything to you?
He is my husband.
Oh, Simon, we're separated.
I've told him I'll never go back to him.
Simon, I don't want to go through another scene with him.
I understand.
Good evening, Mr. Duclasse. This way, please.
You were the one who bought the painting.
Oh, be assured, I am an admirer of your work.
And of my wife.
Well, then, we have much in common.
Won't you sit down?
You do admit you are the reason Odette left me.
I do not. I only know that she had left you.
I want you to leave her alone.
But, Mr. Duclasse, Odette is no child.
She has made a choice.
Choice? And what did she choose?
This big house, your money.
I sympathize with you.
But I prefer to believe that she has found it possible
to think of me as a man she wants.
And if I refuse to give you the divorce?
Do you really think it would make any difference?
She has already intimated to me that she prefers me on any terms.
I could kill you for that.
You are in my house, and I am trying to be as kind as possible
under the circumstances.
I don't need your kindness, Magistrate.
Well, what else have I to offer you?
I love Odette, and I will not give her up.
And what of your fine reputation if this were made public?
Are you threatening me?
Yes.
Think about it, Magistrate.
VOICE: He will be trouble, Simon. Kill him!
Kill him? No!
No, you cannot make me commit murder!
(VOICE LAUGHING)
What happened?
It almost fell on me.
I'm sorry. It was an accident.
It would have been a most convenient accident, wouldn't it?
Mr. Duclasse, I...
Those urns have been up there since the house was built.
How could it have fallen?
It's all right, Pierre.
You may clean this up in the morning.
Yes, sir.
- I'm frightened, Pierre. - Shh.
You tried to kill him.
VOICE: No, we are not ready for his death yet.
That was merely to show you how simple killing can be.
As simple as crushing the life from a bird.
But you cannot make me take a human life.
Not as long as there is a shred of my will left.
(VOICE LAUGHING)
VOICE: You've already started to murder him
by taking the one thing he loved.
The time will come, Magistrate, and you will end his agony.
No!
(WIND HOWLING)
Has Paul gone?
Yes. Odette, we can't stay here.
I want to leave Paris.
Tell me that you'll come to Lucerne with me now.
But what of Paul?
Well, I have some influence. Perhaps I can arrange an annulment.
We'll be married in Switzerland.
But I want to leave this house as soon as possible tomorrow.
Can you be ready?
Oh, Simon, what is it? Is Paul causing trouble?
Please, tell me, will you go?
Of course, Simon. I'll be ready.
The servants will leave immediately. There's a train at midnight.
They'll have the villa ready for us by the time we get there.
We'll leave on the morning train. I'll pick you up at 10:00.
We'll be happy, Simon. I know we will.
We must take whatever happiness we can, Odette.
That's all we can do.
Come.
You're here, aren't you?
You've been here all the time.
VOICE: You must admit that patience is a virtue.
Are you running from me, Magistrate?
Yes!
VOICE: The human body is so fragile.
It withers and dies so easily, as a flower does.
Do you think that by putting distance between yourself and Paul Duclasse,
that I can't make you kill him?
You say the Horla exist as people do?
Very well, then, your powers must be limited as ours are.
VOICE: Do you think that I'll let you run
so that you can share your life with that woman?
I will not be stopped.
VOICE: You'll share nothing!
As this rose is destroyed, so can I destroy your resistance.
Every thought you think, your senses, your will,
they belong to me to use as I wish.
No more bullets left, Magistrate.
The woman is useless to us,
as useless as any dead thing.
What are you saying?
VOICE: A dead thing owns nothing,
possesses no one, Magistrate.
That is what she must be.
I can't.
VOICE: A dead thing, Magistrate.
(KNOCKING ON DOOR)
Who is it?
PAUL: Odette, I must talk to you.
Paul, go away. Leave me alone.
You're my wife! You owe me this much!
All right, all right! Stop it! You'll break down the door.
Odette, I...
Where are you going?
- None of your business. - You...
You're going with him?
My things!
My things! Get out! You're not gonna spoil it for me!
Odette, I can't let you do this to either of us.
I'd rather see you dead.
Doesn't it matter what I want?
Maybe I should feel sorry for him.
You'll bleed him dry, take every cent he's got,
and meanwhile be looking for another man with even more money.
Yes. Yes, that's exactly what I'll do.
Are you satisfied?
Yes, I'm satisfied that I'm a fool and that he's a bigger one.
Why, Simon, I didn't expect...
No!
(ODETTE SCREAMING)
(KNOCKING ON DOOR)
- Good morning, Magistrate. - Good morning, Master.
I expected Pierre.
Pierre and Louise have left for my place in Switzerland.
Please forward my mail there until I notify you.
- I'll be very glad to, sir. - Thank you.
Blood?
Odette?
No!
(WIND HOWLING)
You murdered her!
VOICE: You're quite wrong, Magistrate.
You killed her.
It was your hand.
No!
VOICE: Can you deny the evidence you've hidden in the clay?
I couldn't have done it. I never left the house!
(VOICE LAUGHING)
VOICE: That's right, Magistrate.
I'm the only one who knows you left here last night.
You're quite safe, I assure you.
I didn't do it. I didn't kill her.
VOICE: The murderer Girot never thought he killed either.
Had you learned to love her, Magistrate?
(VOICE LAUGHING)
- Father. - What is it?
The police, they've arrested Paul.
Paul? For killing Odette?
But why? I don't understand.
The landlady identified him.
She heard him arguing with Odette. There was a struggle.
Paul wouldn't have done it. He loved her.
The police will learn the truth, Jeanne.
We know that Paul is innocent. They will find it out.
He doesn't even have money for a good lawyer.
Whatever we have will be his if he needs it.
SIMON: Helen, if only it was in my power to bring you back.
So that I could tell you how meaningless my life became
when you were no longer with me.
Tragedy can blind the judgment of a man.
I know you would understand that.
(WIND HOWLING, DOOR CLOSES)
VOICE: What is it, Magistrate? Are you talking to memories now?
Do you think she can hear you?
My heart has spoken to her many times.
Yes, she can hear me!
VOICE: Fool. Do you expect me to have patience with sentiment?
You had no reason to do that!
VOICE: You were only talking to your conscience, Magistrate.
You're still a murderer.
And if I am, then I will not let an innocent man die
for something I did.
VOICE: On the contrary.
Paul Duclasse will go to the guillotine.
Haven't you done enough?
VOICE: Why should I let them execute you, Magistrate,
when you serve my purpose so well?
Cover your victim with this.
I...
I can't, I can't!
VOICE: You think I'm so stupid as to let the police find it?
The grave is waiting.
Do as I say.
To the back of the garden, Magistrate.
You see, I can be most accommodating.
The grave is already dug.
You used clay to make her like this.
She returns to clay.
When the grave is filled,
we will remove the last vestige of the woman from your life.
The painting, Magistrate. It, too, must be destroyed.
Leave me alone! Let me have peace!
VOICE: I doubt whether such art is meant for immortality.
Burn it.
No. No, I've done enough.
There's the fire. You burn it.
VOICE: You heard what I said.
Do as I say. Burn it!
The police, Magistrate.
You will tell them only what I want you to tell them.
(VOICE LAUGHING)
(WIND HOWLING)
- Robert. - Good evening, Simon.
Come in, come in.
It is not often that I am honored by your presence.
A policeman isn't supposed to have time for his friends.
If it isn't one thing, it's another.
Now, this stupid murder.
Oh, yes, yes. It's a terrible thing.
A glass of wine, Robert?
No, I can only stay a minute.
Oh, then, this isn't a social call.
Yes and no. I have to ask a favor of you.
Oh? Well, sit down.
This murderer Duclasse, he wants to talk to you.
To me? But whatever for?
Well, he seems to have the idea that you'll help him.
But I don't even know the man.
Many people know your reputation as a man who works hard for justice.
Oh, I see.
Frankly, Simon, I don't think anybody can help him.
We have the testimony of his landlady
and other people in the house who recalled his wife.
End earlier this morning we found the murder weapon hidden in his bedroom.
The examining magistrate already has the case.
Yes, he says there's no doubt about it.
Everything points to Duclasse as the killer.
Might be very interesting.
Still studying the criminal mind.
It's a fascinating subject, Robert.
Bring Duclasse to my chambers. I'll talk with him.
I can see you've earned your reputation honestly.
Tomorrow, noon.
- Good night, Simon. - Good night.
Oh, Captain. Magistrate Cordier is waiting.
Go right in, please.
Magistrate, this is the man, Duclasse.
Sit down, Duclasse.
I thought you would see me alone.
You're lucky to be seeing him at all. Say what you have to say.
What makes you think I can help you, Duclasse?
Because you know I wouldn't kill Odette.
How can you assume such a thing?
I don't know you.
You knew my wife well enough.
- Duclasse! - Please, Captain.
Under what circumstances could I have known your wife?
Are you denying that you wanted to marry her?
This is preposterous, Duclasse. You're making a grave mistake.
Liar! What are you trying to hide?
That you would take another man's wife away?
That's enough, Duclasse! Guards!
PAUL: I didn't kill Odette!
SIMON: Duclasse.
If you think these accusations
will influence the court to declare you insane,
you are quite mistaken.
- Take him away. - I won't let this rest!
I didn't kill Odette! I didn't kill her!
I didn't kill her!
You see, Simon?
What is there to understand about the human mind?
A person becomes evil.
How? Who knows?
He is evil, so society must crush him as if he were a bug.
You think your studies are profound.
I think that the only profound thing is the guillotine.
When I come across such a brutal killer as Duclasse,
I begin to think you're right.
We must get together some evening and discuss our points of view.
Can it be only his reputation he's afraid of, Jeanne?
To deny knowing Odette or me.
Perhaps I had begun to hate Odette, but I never would have killed her.
Paul, Magistrate Cordier wouldn't let an innocent man die
just to save his own reputation.
Well, you should have seen him.
There was no sympathy in him, nothing.
It was as if there were no feeling of any kind.
I don't even see any grief for Odette in him.
We're doing everything we can, Paul, and somehow we're going to find out the truth.
I know how much you and your father are trying to help me,
and I'm very grateful.
We don't want to lose you.
How can a man be such a fool about what is right?
It's like an artist who wants to say something fine on a canvas
and only paints the things that blind his eye.
Oh, Paul.
I wanted to kiss you when we were children.
Oh, Paul, Paul.
What are we going to do?
There has to be a way to prove Cordier's relationship to Odette.
Odette never lived in a world by herself.
VOICE: I've learned today that I am to preside
at the trial of Paul Duclasse.
Whatever is left of my will, of my conscience, rebels
at sending an innocent man to the guillotine.
But I know now that I am helpless under the Horla's influence.
I have become a slave, a machine that must do his bidding.
I have but one means of escape.
May the Lord see fit to grant me with mercy
for what I am about to do.
(WIND HOWLING)
VOICE: Suicide, Magistrate?
Did you think I would let your destruction be so simple?
Did you want the gun, Magistrate?
(VOICE LAUGHING)
It seems that your will surrenders most reluctantly.
I must congratulate you on your strength of character.
Well, then, since I have regained control once more, we can...
(DOOR KNOCKING)
The door, Magistrate. Shall we see who it is?
Is there something you wish?
Don't you remember me, Magistrate Cordier?
No, I'm sorry. Is there someone here you wish to see?
Your memory is short. I'm Jeanne D'Arville.
You bought a painting from me at my father's gallery.
A painting? Oh, won't you please come in.
You must have the wrong address. Perhaps I can help you.
That's very possible.
Would your coachman have taken the wrong turn?
I'm very good at remembering faces, Magistrate, even if you're not.
A man has little difficulty recalling a pretty face, Miss D'Arville.
Now, perhaps we can get to the bottom of this.
Oh, won't you sit down?
No, thank you.
You denied knowing either Odette Mallotte or Paul Duclasse.
- Why? - Oh, that again!
Is that what brought you here?
I want to know why you lied.
Under the circumstances, I'm trying to be patient.
Paul Duclasse doesn't have time for patience.
Since you won't tell me the truth, perhaps your servants will.
Really, Miss D'Arville, I really think you...
Where are they?
They know Odette posed for you in this house.
They also know Paul was here.
I don't know where you and Duclasse got this ridiculous notion,
but, unfortunately, my servants are in Switzerland.
Now, I trust that that is an end of your accusations.
Oh, no, Magistrate Cordier, this isn't the end.
I'm sure the police will be interested
in bringing your servants back from Switzerland for questioning,
even though you may prefer leaving them where they are.
Gallery D'Arville.
VOICE: A most determined young woman.
There can be no doubt that she will go to the police.
Then, I can only hope that nothing changes her mind.
VOICE: You still want to die.
You chose the wrong one for death, Magistrate.
She will die, not you.
Leave her alone.
VOICE: You will kill her.
No, I can't.
I can't kill again.
VOICE: Before the night is over, Magistrate.
There isn't much time.
But do you realize what this would mean?
Accusing him before the police?
A man with such a fine reputation.
I already know what they think.
But Paul's entitled to justice.
And I'm going to demand that they bring the servants back to testify.
Jeanne, you asked my advice.
I can only tell you that I believe it will be useless.
Father, I'm going to the police. It's all I can do to help Paul.
I hope you're right.
Perhaps I'm too old to believe in miracles.
Simon, what are you doing here at this time of the night?
Father Raymonde, quickly, take me to your church.
Perhaps there is safety there.
Simon, what are you saying?
A sanctuary, Father.
There's something that I must tell you.
I must confess.
- Help me. - Come with me.
Whoa!
Father, are you all right?
What happened?
- I'm not sure. - MAN: Whoa!
- You're not hurt? - No.
Thank the Lord.
Father, it happened so suddenly, as if someone grabbed the reins from my hands.
He tried to kill both of us.
Kill us! Simon, please explain.
Father, I can't go with you now.
It would mean your life, too.
Listen to me, do as I say.
There's a girl walking down the street.
She can't be more than a few blocks away.
You'll recognize her by the brown dress and the plume hat she's wearing.
Her name is Jeanne D'Arville.
Tell her that I must see her tonight at my house.
Please, tell her to come.
SIMON: The Horla has tried to kill me.
I have become his enemy instead of his slave.
It is now his life or mine.
(KNOCKING AT DOOR)
Father, are you sure he wanted me to come back?
I don't know what is wrong, but it was most important to him.
Father, thank you for coming.
Forgive me, but I can't ask you in.
I hope there's time enough for this.
Simon, there must be something very wrong. Can't I help?
No. No, this is something I must do myself.
Pray for me, Father.
Take these. They're most important.
It's imperative that you follow the instructions
in the letter exactly.
- I don't know what these are. - Please.
Please take her away, Father.
Go, I beg of you.
Simon, you will have my prayers.
I think we better do as he says.
- Good night. - Good night, Father.
SIMON: Something has occurred to me.
Something that happened the night the Horla made me destroy
the painting of Odette.
If my observation is correct, then I will be staking my life
on the turn of one solitary card.
If I am wrong, then, this will be my last meeting with him.
He will kill me.
I have made my preparations. I am ready.
(WIND HOWLING)
VOICE: You seem very smug, Magistrate.
Is it because I failed to make you kill the girl?
Do you think that evil can always be stopped by a cross?
Perhaps not,
but there may be something that can stop your evil.
(WINDOW SMASHING)
You remember the painting?
How you insisted that I burn it?
Could it be that you were afraid to go near the flames in the fireplace?
Fire has no will of its own! Can you control it?
Try! Let me see how fast your powers are!
VOICE: Let me out!
There's no place to run.
The windows are in flames. The doors are locked.
- VOICE: Let me out! - SIMON: You're trapped.
The whole room is drenched in kerosene.
How does terror feel?
Doesn't it give you enough strength to break a lock?
VOICE: Let me out!
I was right about the fire.
VOICE: Then, you'll die with...
(VOICE SCREAMING)
(COUGHING)
(COUGHING CONTINUES)
The last words he wrote:
"If what I think is true, then, there may be deliverance from the Horla
for me or all of us."
Are you convinced now that Paul didn't murder Odette?
The diary will clear him.
Poor Simon.
He was ill for so long. The insanity grew worse.
He didn't know what he was doing.
This Horla, it was in his imagination, of course.
Can it be denied that evil exists or that it can possess a man?
Then, Cordier was saying the Horla is real.
Simon's letter spoke of a warning to mankind.
He wanted us to know.
Whenever evil exists in the heart of man,
the Horla lives.