To Georges Conchon
The Elegant Criminal
Come in, gentlemen.
To whom have I the honor?
Professor Tonnelier, M. D.
Master of phrenology at the Hotel-Dieu.
Quite impressive.
This is Dr. Brianchon, my learned assistant.
You don't say!
So young, and already a phrenologist?
I had no notice.
But, of course, I should have expected phrenologists.
I can understand that, gentlemen.
It was high time you came to pat my skull...
or you might have found me, so to speak...
with my head under my arm.
Sorry to hurry you...
but I have quite a busy day. Let us proceed.
I am sure that you'll find on me...
the characteristics of a rare type of murderer...
especially since you already know it.
Can you feel the bump of a born criminal?
Not quite so simple.
Look harder.
There is, literally speaking...
no special protuberance indicating a killer's nature.
One must be content with various concording signs...
although often contradictory.
You seem endowed not only with intelligence...
Thanks.
but also benevolence.
Is that so?
Ready, Brianchon?
Nesle
You sent for me?
Monsieur Lebel. I am not asking for the moon...
but please do not rob me of my precious time...
especially when I'm expecting Mr Allard.
Lacenaire...
it was only this morning that I was told...
these scientists were coming.
Why should I believe you?
Because it's true.
I didn't inform you because I was at the Prefecture...
hoping to cancel Mr. Allard's visit.
But he was already on his way.
Want me to swear?
Of course not, sir.
I forgot to ask about Madame Lebel!
How did last night go?
Not too bad.
She suffered three attacks...
but she choked only once.
Good. May the improvement persist.
Looks like snow.
Who am I to see today?
- Mr. Arago. at 11:00. - Very good.
His visits encourage me to write.
And then Mr. Prosper Merimee.
Fine. He amuses me.
Then the pretty Austrian princess...
with that impossible name.
Hungarian, rather.
Let us say Austro-Hungarian.
Would you grant me a favor?
Speak up.
It is about my young friend Avril.
Although he did not spare me in court...
I do not call him "friend" in jest.
I do mean it.
Thanks to me, he'll undertake the final journey at my side.
Probably on the same day.
I'd like to see him before.
To make up?
At least to try. You know these people.
Today?
Or tomorrow. When you wish.
Tonight. Look, should you doubt my kindness...
I'll treat you to a nice supper.
Not so fast. They won't take it out of your mouth.
You greedy guts!
Or is it your way to keep mum?
Yes, I squeal on you...
because you'd squealed on me before.
One month earlier, at Poissy prison...
in hope of a reprieve.
Them are lies!
No. Mr. Allard told me.
So what? He's just a cop.
Trust cops or spread lies 'bout your pals.
He's like the others.
You don't trust me?
And that story you told in court!
I said so many things. Remind me
That it was just a way to commit suicide.
I know you too well.
You didn't kill people just to get your head chopped off!
Why not?
You hang yourself, no one cares.
Go to the guillotine, you'll be in the papers.
Think about it.
It has real meaning.
D'you have to suicide me as well?
Mind you--
- What? - Nothing.
Go on, say it.
I heard of savages burning their dead...
and when it's a biggie...
a king or whatnot...
they burn his missus along.
Well, you see, you can think too!
Go ahead, laddie, stick your blade into it.
It's undercooked.
Avril, I could love you just for the way you laugh.
I may quote myself, wrote yesterday...
about your "long, silly, ruthless laughter!"
Perhaps. Can't help it. It's that blood.
Makes me think of a lot of other blood.
And yours too... soon.
No, not that.
For one thing. I ain't afraid.
My hands shake, but it's the white wine.
That's good.
Very good.
Wait.
Listen.
"If they say my walk is unsteady, I'll say...
"It's not me shaking; it's my legs."
Fine. Now add: "Same for Avril." Write it.
No, it's too personal.
You know how to write, so do it.
Yes, I'll do it sometime.
I'm saving the rump for you. know you like it.
Tomorrow the ground'll be cold.
Of course. It's January.
I didn't think we'd part so soon.
You must get dressed now.
Good. I am glad it's over.
Mr. Allard is here too!
How nice.
May I write three more lines before I leave my last home?
January 9, 1836
They are coming to do mean.
When you peruse these Memoirs, every page oozing with blood...
the executioner will have wiped off...
the blood from the iron triangle.
Keep a place for me in your memories.
I'm all yours.
Mr. Allard, I'm so grateful that you've come...
although your duties didn't call for it.
My friend, I had to.
Am I not your appointed depositary?
Will you do me the other favor?
That too, you can rest assured.
My dear Counsel...
forgive me for monopolizing the Court's attention.
It was, believe me, despite myself.
I'd have preferred to grant your talents...
the precedence they deserved. But you'll make up for it.
Very rare, fortunately
are the trials where the accused has the leading role.
- Farewell, chum - Farewell, my lad.
Father...
you will be pleased.
I repent.
Let me be clear: not for my crimes...
but for not knowing I'd be deprived...
of the great happiness I've discovered: to write.
So please refrain from giving me absolution...
till after you've read me.
Catch her!
- My respects, sir - Very good, thank you.
How did you know?
People. In the street.
Is it his book?
Please... don't let anyone say he was a pervert.
I won't. What an idea!
Come, you have me now.
He made me promise, and again this morning.
You think I'd betray my word?
I do not presume to replace him.
On the other hand, you'll see much more of me.
You saw him often?
- Were there women? - From time to time.
They thrashed me.
A mishap you won't have with me. I'm a widower.
Let me off. I'm almost there.
Please. I'm late.
- Tell them you were with me. - You don't know that shop!
You get the door for less.
I'll find you something better.
I don't want that.
My dear child, I make the decisions now.
What's wrong?
Home!
It can't be epilepsy. She'd bite her lips.
Should I give her a bath? It would do her good.
Yes. And have the cook give her what she likes best.
And for you, sir?
I'm not hungry. I'll be in my room.
Careful. It's hot.
Rub hard, dammit!
You stink of sweat!
You never had to run?
"Dear Reader, your curiosity was so aroused...
"by my recent blunderings...
that I'd be a cad not to satisfy it. "
His blunderings!
What would I gain by remaining silent?
I picture the flock of phrenologists...
physiologists, anatomists...
piling up on my body e'en before it is cold.
My life is hardly mine as it is. What will it be when I'm dead?
Indeed, Lacenaire's nature was benevolent.
The irrefutable proof lies here on the forehead.
Dr. Brianchon will show the spot...
If he'll kindly wake up.
Here is the bump revealing the subject's capacity...
for benevolence.
To my amazement, Lacenaire's bump protruded..
much more than in the best specimens...
that came under my fingers.
Did I say protruding? Nay... erect!
I, too, had to struggle.
- But I'll never make it. - Can't you read at all?
A little. Newspapers... the large letters.
Well, little girl, you'll have the book.
At his request, I'll have his Memoirs published.
With the book it will be easier.
- You will learn. - When?
Soon. Meanwhile, I'll read to you the most signif--
"Compared to my family...
"St Chamond College seemed pleasant.
"I worked so well that I won the top prize.
"But triumph is dull when your public leaves you cold.
If only my mother had been there to crown me!"
- Will you like it here? - I'd be hard to please.
Go on.
"I went home for the summer holiday.
"For once, my father greeted me with a smile.
"But my mother smothered me with kisses...
"as if she'd finally decided to love me.
"It was the only moment of pure happiness...
"that was ever granted to me.
Wish that I had died that day!"
Enough for tonight, I'm tired.
Where is St Chamond?
Lacenaire, do you read the Gospel?
Every day. It's so beautiful, it always moves me to tears.
Afterwards, fortunately, reason prevails...
when I see even the church doesn't give a damn.
Did the Gospel allow the massacre of Protestants...
on St. Bartholomew's Day? It's a laugh!
That's another story.
Mind you, I'd like to believe.
But I've the same snag with God and my mother.
it's a waste of time.
- Why? - Being nice doesn't help.
I've a book about the Reformed Church. Want it?
No. it's horrible!
It's not better, but it's simpler.
Vetillard!
How many times will I have to repeat...
that I forbid you to walk in pairs?
Who?
Will you tell us who gave you this outrageous book?
Honestly, sir. it slipped my mind.
So many such books floating around!
- You hear, Poulaillon? - And much worse!
He lies. He's rotten to the core!
Do you maintain this?
Quite.
Victor! Let me put my arms around you.
Your father can be proud of you.
He told me as soon as he came home.
What did Pierre-Francois tell you?
I don't remember.
About the Protestant heresy?
That it seemed more simple than our religion.
- What else? - That's all.
- And St. Bartholomew? - Oh. yes.
He said it didn't fit too well with the teachings of Our Lord.
There you are!
You should thank Victor for rescuing you...
from such an awful path.
Sir...
I seem to remember you gave me this book.
An oversight, no doubt.
It was with other books.
The less pupils you have, the better.
Trust me to inform every family in Lyons!
Madam, gentlemen, the best thing for your boys...
Madam. gentlemen.
is the severe discipline of our Jesuits. The seminary at Alix.
Shame on you!
Lord! These boys have received baptism, communion--
Communion? Not me.
It's impossible.
I was always ill when the time came.
Chicken pox, mumps. and so on.
Name?
Lacenaire. He's Vetillard.
- What a name! - Dear God!
With that same evil mind you perceived in me at Alix...
I pray that I not be guillotined on a Friday. It's bad luck.
I nearly kept you waiting, Ida. How careless!
We were discussing religion.
May I introduce Mr. de Lusignan...
an exceptional man who was the solace of my young years.
This is Madame Karolyi de Nagybania.
No doubt you know from public rumor...
how dear she is to me.
Father.
I love you.
Pardon me, it slipped out, but it's true.
I never loved anyone but you two.
And Our Lord Jesus, I hope.
Him I don't know as well.
Sorry, my dear Paul.
I am always teasing God, but he pays me back in my coin!
Peace be with you.
And with Him. I think we share the guilt.
Chabrol, would you kindly turn 'round?
How did you like my Lusignan?
I'm beginning to find him too perfect.
After all these years...
how can he not see his goodness is wasted on me?
Only Lacenaire can help Lacenaire.
Don't bother. If it's to show you like me, I'm happy.
Like you?
I have tangible proof that it's much more.
Did you see him?
So perfect a man could have the courtesy to be ugly!
I should've raped him. I'd have gotten off with a Hail Mary.
I hate him.
He'd make me mend my ways!
I loved him from the first day.
Chabrol, could we have some tea?
What a heartbreak, this damn seminary!
Without Lusignan, I'd have died of boredom.
It's no exaggeration.
For me, boredom is like rat poison.
Everything I've ever done, even murder...
was by way of, don't laugh, entertainment.
How can one resist.
five hours of mass and vespers every day? And sermons!
The real sin for them was not to be happy or alive.
It was simply to breathe.
It was there I first thought of suicide.
I refrained, lest I prove their point.
The seminary has made me what I am.
What are you reading?
Sterne.
- An English writer, Mother - As long as it isn't Voltaire.
Have I ever stood up for him?
I find him amusing but systematic. Dry.
Leave him to his ravings, Mommy.
Why don't you kiss me?
Yes, kiss me!
Give me 50 kisses. No, let's say 60.
60 kisses, Mother darling!
51... 52... 55...
56... 57... 58... 59... 60!
Wretch! If your father knew!
How would he know?
My brother would never tell him.
- Nor would you. - Wretch!
I hope you mean that in the plural.
But don't shout.
Think of Father.
Think of his sorrow if he learned by chance...
from the servants, that your darling Lucien...
was too cowardly to rob you himself.
- Liar! - He just proved it.
- Thief! - That may be.
But to whom did you tell the key was under your pillow...
that idiot or me?
Your beloved eldest, or the unworthy youngest?
How could I remember?
Can't you see that his "kiss-me-Mommy" game...
was his way of telling me, "Go ahead.
I'll put her to sleep. "
Poor Lucien!
How badly he must've needed those 60 francs!
Let's talk about me for a change.
There are two kinds of men:
those who dream of doing evil but never dare...
that's my brother.
And those who acquired that courage, that's me.
Robbing one's parents is like getting an advance...
on one's inheritance, but it soon becomes a habit.
I've become very bold since I began stealing from you!
This recklessness terrifies me, Where will it lead me?
Had you but loved me a little. you'd be frightened as well.
I never would allow myself such mischief...
if only you loved me one little bit.
Yes. Yes, forgive me!
Sorry, I'm thinking of tomorrow when you'll stop condoning me.
Father.
Does one become a priest to bully little nippers?
- You are expelled! - Rich idea!
It'll be easier for you to favor your pet pupils.
Last year you cheated me out of four prizes.
Your father came to fetch you.
He'll know how best to chastise you, for he's deeply wounded.
- Broken! - Morning, papa.
Did you bring me a wig?
- Stand up! - I was about to.
The Abbe insisted on being here.
Express your remorse.
Lacenaire, I forgive you.
Of course. He must, mustn't he?
- Stop answering back! - God forbid!
I'm sure the Abbe understands me.
Let it stay between us, but it seems his bullying..
is caused by an excessive affection for those nippers.
Ask them about the loving attentions...
he inflicts upon them when he's not roughing them up.
Isn't it true? You can be a very caressing priest!
Striking a man of the cloth!
Maligning him!
Stop with this, "Yes, Papa. "
- Can a son be so ungrateful? - No, Papa.
Nowadays every trade has its difficulties...
but for us in the silk trade it's even worse.
Louis XVIII did little.
At least Napoleon kept foreigners off our backs.
Your health.
I made it for you.
- Can't believe how soft it is. - Is it?
Feel it.
You call that soft?
- You want to be a priest? - Hell no!
Lechery!
No, Papa.
Well, yes... but the word seems a bit disproportionate.
- It was all you needed! - Just what I was thinking.
Anything you've spared me today?
No, Papa. It's that kind of a day.
To Brotteaux.
- Tomorrow. - What?
The guillotine.
A few hours ago...
although that woman was quite eager at it...
it struck me how people overrate this business...
and I asked myself: "Is that all?"
There'll be a cartload!
But can one judge from a first time?
That's very good.
His Majesty harms our reputation abroad...
by guillotining so few people.
Or does it require aptitudes that I lack?
An innate taste for debauchery? A need?
Yes, dammit, there it is!
How pretty!
How simple!
So light in design... since the days of the Terror.
Look! Look where you'll end!
Many bourgeois fathers thus threaten their sons...
but he really meant it. It left a scar.
How many times have I been guillotined in my dreams!
Cut.
I fear my execution will not have the charm of novelty.
Come, Lacenaire!
I'm not jesting. I am beyond that.
You'll see in my Memoirs that I followed your advice.
Loaded with emotion.
My deal.
You still refuse to let me read it?
Stop peeping at the bottom card when I cut.
Sharp eye!
Surprised?
There are three English ladies outside asking to see you.
Say yes, but tomorrow. And only the one in yellow.
An admirable decision. What style! A fine situation.
I'd gladly trade it for yours.
You owe me 6 Louis.
It'll be paid to the person we know.
Discreetly. She mustn't know.
As always, dear boy.
Why the mystery?
Is she your daughter?
Do I look like a father?
Fate is blind, but a daughter behind my back!
It was a dark, cold night.
She was sobbing... clinging to me.
She was barely seven and all alone.
I was very drunk. I took pity.
Are you satisfied with this... literature?
I've no disposition for pathos.
- What do you think of Allard? - A fine man. Why?
I asked him to take care of the girl.
- Now? - After my--
But I wonder... A policeman?
Well, you see him every morning.
I can't help but trust him.
With you, Arago, it's different.
There's a fondness.
I truly like you.
Flattered.
Let no one know. It could do you harm.
But I'll be heartened till the end...
by the atmosphere you create around you...
your cheerfulness, that sense of freedom you've conveyed to me...
from one writer to another.
With Allard, she'll have room and board.
With you, she'd have... spirit.
If I had another say-- But it's done.
I could find a way to make her enjoy...
the atmosphere you mentioned from time to time.
That would be nice. Very nice.
Lacenaire has paid!
Lacenaire dies a coward's death!
Read "Le Temps. "
- Villavard! - Sir?
Allow me to express the disgust I feel for your newspaper.
- Are you challenging me? - I am at your service.
- Would you accept my apologies? - That would be pointless.
When a man writes, or lets someone write...
that Lacenaire died a coward's death...
He must say: "I was there. " Were you?
I was! So I can state that he went to his death...
with a courage that should be an example for us all.
I wrote a correction. I'll bring it myself.
- Will you print it? - Tomorrow.
On my honor...
Come in.
So this is it?
Sit down.
How does it read?
Does it elicit interests? Curiosity? Passion?
All three.
- It's gripping. - Who else has read it?
The publisher, Mr. Benazard.
Him? Quite a critical mind!
Look, our friend wished to create a stir.
I think Mr. Benazard...
is the best choice for this purpose.
I pray to God.
- What is the firm's name? - The Novelty Shop.
Never thought I'd be associated...
with this "Novelty Shop", even for a simple preface.
With due respect, didn't ask you to write it.
Lacenaire did.
- I never knew. - Surprised?
I'll read it and let you know.
Read it? I think not.
- What do you want? - Nothing. I'm bored.
- Brood elsewhere! - No, please.
So it is you?
His darling Hermine!
Why didn't he say how pretty you were?
So delicate! And those eyes!
Sir, I must kiss her.
He spoke so often of that awful night...
That brought you together.
They gave themselves one to the other.
He told you too, I suppose?
Mr. Arago lives here?
Depends. Who's calling?
You'll see; they're excellent.
No, thanks.
We don't want too many cuts.
It might suggest a form of collusion...
between you, as Chief of Security...
and me, as Chief of Censorship. to mutilate the book.
It'd expose our flank to the Republicans.
Have no fear. The foreword I've drafted will disarm them.
It'll show I acted not as a policeman but as a friend.
Lacenaire's friend... is that wise?
I've adopted another solution.
Call in a celebrated writer.
Mr. Jacques Arago.
I've read it. many thanks, dear Pertuizet.
It's above my highest expectations.
- I've my preface. - There'll be no preface.
A foreword will do. By me.
Well see. Please be seated.
It seems to me that the first part...
his youth and adolescence...
can be examined later.
Although it overflows with anticlerical venom...
it's not too blasphemous.
Is it blasphemy or bons mots?
Precisely. So I suggest we begin our scrutiny...
at the first blood.
Five times 100 makes 500...
plus 20... plus 3.
Call it an even 520 livres, all right, laddie?
I have 20 on me.
Let's have it.
And the rest of it? When?
Within a week.
- Tomorrow night. - Douchy...
trust him; he'll pay. His father's rich.
I hear your father's well-known in town.
And you... is your word any good?
Better than yours.
Day after tomorrow. Midnight.
- By god, 500 is a lot! - Did I write army rules?
Would you see me in uniform?
What that was rumored...
that you balked at the idea of paying 500 measly livres...
to keep me from wasting my best years in some regiment?
It was just to make sure.
I knew I hadn't enough here.
- Tomorrow? - Tomorrow night.
- The boy has another offer. - At 500?
So he says. He must give an answer on Friday.
- It's blackmail! - Probably, but we're trapped.
I'm lunching with my banker.
So a franc more or a franc less--
You'll have your 500.
A man of honor! I'll be one too.
I'll count later. I'll stand the drinks.
Don't bother. I've got to stand on my own.
I knew beforehand the army wasn't for me...
but I had no choice.
And then I realized it would enable me...
to wait till my father's death made me rich and free.
- Must we leave that in? - Of course. Look, read on.
"Perhaps was I striving thus to save myself from myself...
"and delay somewhat the disaster...
which I would inevitably bring upon myself?"
- Any worms? - Some.
At ease. What would I do without you?
You'd have to work, Captain.
Young men, be sure to hide whatever talent you have...
if ever you're in uniform.
No man is lazier than an officer.
Here, they had but two concerns:
Billiards and women.
What a Godsend to find a rookie able to read and count.
So everything fell on my head...
arms, meat, bread, salt.
Everything!
Douchy!
If it isn't my little... Davenaire!
What're you doing here?
Business.
My business. Get it?
So you're a soldier! I never expected it!
Neither did I.
I'll pay.
What a feast!
- You've treated me like a king. - I owed it to you.
Most people Wouldn't have bothered.
Let's go that way.
- How far's that brothel? - Just 15 minutes away.
I still can't get over it!
Two sisters? in their little house? On their own?
- Yes indeed. - How old?
Eighteen and twenty.
- Fair or dark? - One fair, one red.
- Accommodating? - Better. They'll ask for more!
Can one have both? Together, I mean?
- Yes, if you have enough. - I have.
- How much? - Ample.
Turn right. it's shorter.
That's more than 15 minutes.
Enjoy those minutes. They're your last!
Eh, come on!
What's wrong, old boy?
There are rules! You can't kill every time you lose.
True. After you I'll stop.
Why me?
You think I cheated?
Indeed. The bottom card when it suited you.
Well, everybody does it. I'm not the only one.
Not just once!
For instance...
the four Kings from under the deck.
- All four? Impossible. - I tried it.
Takes time to learn, but it's possible.
I'll pay you back.
We're both honorable men; let's settle it honorably.
Choose one.
- Must we? - We must.
At five paces.
Sale by Auction
To the highest Bidder
You feel so alone in the world with a bankrupt father!
All in all...
you'd prefer to learn that he died for good...
but left you a little something.
There I was...
poor again, and a deserter to boot.
You're right, my boy, there's only Paris.
Except for--
That? They'll never top this.
Otherwise...
Paris is the only place.
What'll you do?
Plays. Opera. Whatever I find.
- Are you a musician? - No, a writer.
Public Writer
But one writes what one can.
Think we could slip in something like...
"Excellency, I have always hated the Revolution...
and the Emperor even more"?
No. "Even more" suggests...
you didn't totally hate the Revolution.
Let's say: "I have always nourished...
"an equal hatred...
" for the Republic...
and the Usurper. "
The rest can stay as is.
"Therefore I feel, sir...
that I deserve a higher pension. "
I'm coming, Mr. Alphonse.
"It is too little to say I am your servant.
"I kneel at your feet...
drunk with hope and respect. "
Perfect. Give it to me.
I'll hurry home to copy it.
What I have to say is grave.
I've been an army officer for many years.
So I place the army above all things.
For me, there's the army an then the rest!
I quite understand.
In these 18 months, I couldn't count...
the clients your talents have brought to me.
- But? - Why "but"?
I've learned it from you.
When it's too long, start a new paragraph with "but. "
My best friend was Captain Legrand.
As he died in my arms...
I promised to be a second father to his son...
who's coming home after five years in the army.
I doubt he has your gifts...
but I cannot keep you both.
Good-bye then.
You are a true gentleman.
And so are you.
Beware of those "true gentleman" bits.
After 18 months, they seemed worthless.
To pay for his meal He went on to steal
Six francs here Six 'sous' there
For his sweet pet His Herminette
Will you love me? Will you? Yes, you'll love me true
Behind the glass There was a lass
And secretly I said
You're ripe for my bed
To hell with righteousness Let's go dancin'
To hell with stinginess For it's a sin
But I had spent it all As snow began to fall
"I am starving, " he says.
So he gorges himself on the Memoirs of a famous thief.
But must we let him proclaim...
"I resolved to be a plague upon mankind"?
- Well, he succeeded. - Let me finish.
I'm troubled, nay, terrified...
when he explains his reasons.
"To achieve my great dream...
"which I'll bequeath to my brothers...
"crushed by injustice:
Suicide by guillotine!"
- Do you fear it might spread? - On the young.
I know them. They'll think it so smart!
You'll soon have scores of "suicides"...
all based on the same prerequisite...
to cut throats... to kill!
You want a bloodbath?
True, you know better than we...
how to handle young people!
A little person we know...
has told me of your proclivity in this field.
What would you suppress?
"Suicide by guillotine" or the whole page?
The whole page.
I say, you and literature!
Let us read together.
What does he say?
That he still shied from killing with his own hand.
"I had to find other hands, " he says.
Where? In jail!
So he steals just to be caught.
He steals under the very eyes of the police.
What verve! What does he steal?
The largest thing: a carriage.
I noticed that phrase:
"Yes, it was necessary that I remain in prison...
"till I could find one of these men...
"who are fated to be criminals...
without even knowing it. "
Well turned!
Forget the law. Think of the reader.
Without that theft, no one would understand...
that Lacenaire went to prison because he decided so.
You won't find this kind of boy in here.
I know one who'd suit you...
but he's in for 20 years.
How about you?
Four, with two to go.
- Two more years here. - Too bad.
Why? Think I'd suit you?
Perhaps.
And you? You'd have the nerve?
I don't know.
Gutted anyone?
Shut up, dammit!
Yes. Once.
Not gutted. Shot. To get even.
Then it doesn't count.
If it's for pleasure, it's no murder.
Don't bawl, little Baton,
you ain't lost Avril yet.
Hey, the new boy, lay off Baton's man.
Ain't much of a gift. He's a nothing.
- But he's out in six months. - Seven.
And you in eight.
He'll help out a bit.
Page 33, six lines crossed out.
Page 46, nine lines.
No objections?
- Page 59, a few words. - "Suicide by guillotine"?
- Yes. No regrets? - Yes! It is foolish.
- Thanks. - You're welcome.
Page 66, four lines.
You really expected to be in it?
Yes and no.
I was hoping for something.
A sign, a little how-do-you-do.
You were asking too much.
From what I've read, he only wrote about events...
where he had the best part.
He didn't want you to outshine him.
Think so?
Or he didn't want to disparage you in the eyes of fools.
Madam...
forgive me.
I've always been a satyr seeking to gratify his lust...
brutally.
I can forgive that.
But looking at your face...
stopped me.
Aren't you charming?
I wonder if I'll ever be able to fuck a woman.
Really?
I mean, a woman...
with a bit of class.
A woman who impresses me.
I need someone who'll resist, or a harlot.
Either raping or whoring.
But why do I say this?
You say it so well.
She doesn't believe me!
Naughty girl! Checking behind my back!
Am I complaining that I'm left out?
Three with a smack!
What do you say to your little toy papa?
Good night, little toy papa.
Happy birthday et cetera.
It's so pretty!
Best I could do.
Not stolen. I bought it.
You paid?
I paid.
One more "Papa, " you're off to the orphanage.
- Raring to go, Baton? - Always! How's Avril?
Still tall and handsome. He sends his love.
Let's go see our Republican friends!
I wouldn't dare force my way in...
but this is a crucial moment.
It's up to you, Vigouroux.
Either I try to be honest again...
or I go back to stealing or worse.
- God forbid. - God and you.
God, yes. But you first!
You have a true compassion for all victims of injustice.
It's unparalleled, I'm told.
Do you remember the first poems I sent you from my cell?
I do indeed.
Oh yea, my God...
would that I understand you!
Oh, thou knowest me well
and I moan in doubt...
Into my heart, oh God, deign to descend
For my heart to you cannot rise.
Pitiful, isn't it?
It was a philanthropist I was looking for
I knew those poems to be mediocre.
Is it my fault if you found them superb?
If you urged me to write political satire?
My fault if your king-hating friends praised them?
You promised me 50 francs for each published piece.
I sent you seventeen.
How many were published?
None, as I remember.
Two!
Vastly altered.
Hardly so.
And you signed them!
You owe me 100 francs.
The best I can do...
is to pass the hat around...
in Republican circles.
The least I can do is to kill you.
Could you advance the money for a knife?
Anything else?
Who looks after Avril these days?
No one, little Baton.
I don't mean that. I mean his washing. Who does it for him?
- Himself - Fine mess it must be?
You're smarter than Avril!
Perhaps even more intelligent.
More refined.
He's got no refinement
Look... 187!
In two nights! That's beautiful!
10, 15, 25.
35. Black loses.
My dear Lambolley, I owe you 1, 700.
- I'm ashamed. - Don't be.
We'll meet again.
Tomorrow evening without fail.
Gentlemen.
It was an honor.
Congratulations, sir.
There are bad losers, but you're a splendid winner.
- Very kind. - I mean it.
This elegance encourages me to open my heart to you.
I didn't expect to gamble tonight...
and I find myself short of ammunition.
Could you oblige me with 20 Louis?
Rascal! Scoundrel!
How intolerable! Where's the director?
Plogonnec. Since when are beggars allowed here?
None of that here! Your name?
Baton.
What if he's not done?
We'll follow him till he is.
If he takes a carriage?
Can you see any?
What if he lost everything?
You repeat yourself.
Hope he won as much as last night.
We'll find out.
What if we find out too late?
You're better than Avril. He'd have slapped my mouth shut.
Help!
Murder!
What a mess!
If I'd known!
You angry?
A bungling coward tossed into the fire
The blood and loot to which I did aspire
I stabbed him. Look!
I wouldn't bungle if I had the savvy.
So find me a lad with savvy.
I'm on the lookout. No, trust me.
Soon.
Very soon.
Francois what?
Just Francois. That's my last name.
That's his name.
"I, the undersigned...
Mahossier."
You are Monsieur?
Be seated, Mr. Gaillard.
- Faulty payers. - The canker of our age!
He could've paid months ago.
With due respect, haven't you been too lenient...
with this Mahossier?
Afraid so, but can one control one's heart?
I hear he's striving to repay me.
Can I choke him for such a trifling sum?
Not so trifling.
Negligible considering...
the lowly and menial tasks the poor soul must accept.
So please instruct your collector...
not to come to Rue Montorgueil till late...
to be sure the bird is back in the nest.
Shall we say at 6:00?
Or 7:00. Better 7:00.
Why so late?
Guess why?
So we wait.
It's better than a knife.
It's an ice pick.
It's not meant to cut, but if you sharpen it...
it works better than a knife.
You're learning a lot, eh?
Know why I fancy it?
Because a knife blade can break...
an ice pick, never!
I'll teach you a lot more.
- Why's he coming so late? - The bag.
Well?
The later it gets, the fatter it gets.
How's that?
- Mahossier Gustave? - Himself.
Monsieur Gaillard sent me...
to collect the sum of--
700 francs. I was expecting you. Plus interests makes?
That makes 175 francs and 90 centimes.
Comes to 875 francs 90.
I have it. Please come.
Fetch it. We'll count here.
Thief!
To the Epi Scie cafe.
99!
100!
101!
Isn't it my chum Chardon?
Come shake my hand. I won't eat you.
Nice of you to come.
I had to, didn't I? I heard they let you out.
Short walk too! You still living Cheval Rouge Alley?
Yes.
- How's your mother? - Old, old.
Let's not waste words.
- Bugger off. You're in the way. - Why?
Because.
- Where do I wait? - Nowhere. It's over.
- How 'bout him? - He's solid.
You heard about Chardon?
Of course.
Known as Auntie Three Balls!
Right. In the flesh.
Don't bother counting. It's all there: 200 francs.
That's an honest man for you. After four years!
Still. expected more. I reckoned on 500.
So did I. But I'll tell you what
That golden bowl, it wasn't gold.
Wasn't even silver.
Just gilt copper.
We went through hard times in them days.
And today, Auntie Three Balls...
are they less hard?
We got better junk, but fewer buyers.
Choicy wares, can't complain...
but it stays on my hands for months.
Who is it?
Police. Open up.
We'd best separate for a while. You here, me elsewhere.
Where?
Traveling.
- Far? - In Franche-Comte.
Where's that?
- Then Burgundy. - Yes. The wines!
Listen. My share in the Cheval Rouge business.
It's yours. A present from me.
What'll you live on?
My talents.
My eye! You have a plan. Who'll it be?
Nobody. Banks.
- Mind explaining? - It'd take too long.
Coming to bed?
Stop that.
Stop, I say!
I'm giving you my share...
to tide you over until I come back.
I'll have enough to get us started on a large scale.
You understand?
So I want you to wait for me here, quiet as an angel.
No thieving, less boozing. And say every day...
"Lacenaire said to play dead. I play dead. " Repeat.
I play dead.
"I wait for Lacenaire. "
I wait for Lacenaire who's in Burgundy.
You forget Versailles!
It ain't every day you got all night...
to empty a rich pig's house.
We gotta do Versailles before you go.
Why not? Nobody to kill!
You said once: "Where there's pleasure, there's no murder. "
And I say: "Where there's no murder, there's no pleasure. "
You're special. I won't argue with a sick man.
You're right. Good night.
Good night.
If don't do it with you, I'll do it with Francois.
That bothers you, eh?
No, it worries me.
You want to go back to jail? With him, you will.
Inspector.
You again?
Can we have a word?
Of course. With you it's always a pleasure.
The Cheval Rouge Alley. The Chardons.
Well?
The murderer ain't far. On that bench.
Interesting.
Anything to say?
I might, Mr Canler.
The Montorgueil job, it was Francois.
Who else?They were two.
- I don't know. - You do.
Sit down.
Will it help me?
It'd speak for you.
The other man was Lacenaire.
Can't vouch for the name. It could be a tag he made up.
- He has an address? - Not anymore.
- He's mucking around. - Where?
In Burgundy, I heard.
Where? Beaune? Dijon?
Perhaps. I wouldn't know.
Did he mention...
letters of credit? Or money orders?
He mentioned banks, that's all.
That'll do, Canler.
When I sing, I sing! Don't forget the singer.
Afraid we must, my dear Avril.
You see, the Cheval Rouge business also involved two men.
Including you.
It ain't true! On my honor!
Two men! You were there, says Francois...
who's as poor in honor as you.
Let's wait till Lacenaire is caught.
Nice journey from Dijon?
From Chalon-sur-Saone. Yes, excellent.
Well, let's talk.
Lately, you were known as Jacob Levi.
Hoped to fool us under that tag?
That name, if you don't mind.
Spare me the argot. My French is quite adequate.
Before that, you passed as one Baton.
True.
- Also Gaillard. - True.
Also Mahossier.
Quite so. Congratulations.
You found the link.
Proves our police still exist.
Why "still"? I'd say more and more...
working better and better. Thanks to you, sir.
Can we stop at Lacenaire?
Once and for all?
I spare you the argot; spare me the flattery.
Well, sir, you have no idea of the praise...
your very name inspires in the lowliest slums.
Should I confess?
The more I heard about you...
the more I burned to meet you.
Stop the tomfoolery.
I know the song.
I've been accused of many things but tomfoolery I think not.
When you know me better, you'll see...
my words seldom exceed my meaning.
It's the other way round...
but I make sure no one is aware of it.
No, please. Even a small part requires accessories.
I don't remember reaping such a harvest...
in two weeks of interrogation.
Neither do I, sir.
Do you mean we overindulged?
Not at all. With you, every word is worthwhile.
It saddens me to think we shan't meet again.
It saddens me as well.
I hope you get along with your judge.
I almost envy him.
Why? Surely you know it won't be the same thing.
Not the same relation?
There'll be a relation. But it won't be pleasurable.
Pleasure requires a little mutual respect.
A little?
It's for you to say.
It must embarrass you to feel respect for a man like me.
Do not blame yourself; blame the language.
Mine is not the language of your common murderer.
I know it and take advantage of it.
Yes, I owe you one last confession.
- I love to seduce. - And dominate?
Yes. For it's the only true happiness...
society has granted me.
You think you've dominated me?
Farewell, dear Mr. Allard.
Think of me from time to time.
I myself will think of you.
To complete the picture of the accused...
Francois claimed to be a floor maker, Avril a carpenter...
and Lacenaire a traveling salesman.
No doubt an allusion to your travels in Burgundy?
Your Honor, I had to give some answer.
Since you address me, I'll add a word or two.
With my permission.
Of course, I only wish to pay the Superintendent...
the tribute he deserves.
Mr. Allard's task was to elicit a confession...
even revelations.
Another might have resorted to ruse.
Well, he didn't mouth a single lie...
or produce a single fact...
that didn't prove to be true.
He's always been honest, direct and loyal.
I'm tempted to say our country...
has never known a man of such caliber.
A man who refuses to stoop...
to shameless plays...
even when dealing with hardened thugs.
When he interrogated me, I felt pleasure.
When we parted, I felt regret.
Have you finished?
I have, your Honor.
My counsel is a man of talent...
but what does he know about my case?
Only what I told him, mere trifles.
I alone can present each of my crimes...
in its true light.
So what will it be?
Factual truth or banal rhetoric?
He'll twist you around!
Avril, you'd better keep quiet.
Furthermore, it is my trial. I won't have two.
Your own name might remain linked to it.
We'd both suffer if it turned into a farce...
with you forbidding me to speak...
and me playing the clown to slip in a word.
Outrageous! how far can this go?
May I remind you that I am conducting the trial?
In fact, I resent being introduced...
as a scoundrel unprecedented throughout history.
Why these inflated charges...
each line of which is designed to inspire terror?
What a poor novel this novel is!
Still it hardly disturbs me...
since, as I've repeatedly stated since morning...
I demand the guillotine!
Even at the risk of dulling the show.
I must state here and now...
that the hearings will prove...
that two persons only died by my hand.
Two! Quite a thin gruel! And rascals both!
A notorious fence also famous, alas, for his unnatural tastes.
And his mother, his accomplice and procuress.
A royal hunt!
Would your Honor allow the prosecution...
to break into this playlet?
The jury should be aware that the orator...
is simply trying to soften the horror of his crimes...
by slandering his victims.
The orator--
Silence him.
The accused may answer...
but briefly.
The orator, sir...
has more faith than you in the jurors' memory.
Could they have forgotten that I demand death?
Should it have escaped their minds...
I beseech you, your Honor, to use your credit...
that I not be sentenced to a lifetime of hard labor.
It's out of fashion.
I demand death as my due.
All we know about the Montorgueil snare...
is what its instigator disclosed at the inquest.
May I proceed...
or would you rather continue to consult the press?
Your Honor, I must read the reviews!
They are excellent.
For you too, by the way.
It seems to me a juror has a question.
I have.
Why wasn't Baton summoned to testify?
He'd have things to say.
I summoned him but he can't be found.
- Not even in jail? - Neither in prison nor at home.
In your place, I'd check La Force.
He was sent there for six months. He'll be out any day.
Baton...
when did you introduce Francois to Lacenaire?
Late October, I think.
On October 26th at the Epi Scie cafe.
Francois claims it was on November 5th after the snare.
No, before. Lacenaire tells the truth.
After this foul business...
Lacenaire claims they went to that cafe.
Were you there?
What did they say?
I don't remember. Ask Lacenaire.
Francois arrived first.
He said: "I thought you'd been pinched. "
That's it. Lacenaire came in...
and Francois said: "Thought you'd been pinched. "
That should satisfy the jury.
Now he's turned prosecutor!
He's always eating on off people.
In the slums "eating off" means informing.
You see, poor sod...
eating off me got you here!
Lacenaire only betrays those who betray him.
I was moved, it is true, by Lacenaire's predicament.
I went so far, true again...
as to help him when he was most in need.
35 francs! He still owes me 65.
Because a Republican is more inclined than most...
to perceive in a man's distress...
may he be the worst rascal...
a sad result of the political regime that weighs on us.
A remote, but logical consequence.
Are you a Republican?
My dear sir, as I sense in your attitude a growing sympathy...
I'll open my heart to you.
Had I been born in the skin of what's commonly termed...
a man of ethics...
I'd have been a Bonapartist under Bonaparte...
a Carlist under Charles X...
and a Philippist now.
And a Revolutionary earlier?
I wonder.
I believe that in all revolutions...
evil triumphs over good.
Although I may appear ill-suited to discuss that matter...
I feel they cause far too much blood to be spilled.
As if the secret of our happiness did not lie...
within our inner richness...
rather than in the utopia of politic freedom.
Very eloquently put.
Note, however that I harbor even less respect...
for the foolishness of monarchy...
both present and past.
You see? Saying this is tantamount to suicide!
Would I say this, would I thus offend you...
would I alienate these righteous buggers...
if I didn't want to be put to death?
Nevertheless, I'll allow no one to say...
that I was guided by "principles."
I'm the least doctrinaire of men.
But carefully observed my contemporaries.
That alone has convinced me...
that the only proper solution was to bow out...
with, if possible, a bit of sparkle!
Yes, gentlemen, if I killed...
it was to force you to achieve my suicide.
And now you're compelled to do it.
I'm going to my death on a strange road.
with a ladder to climb.
But, by God, I'm going!
Following the jury's decision...
the Court sentences Francois...
to forced labor for life.
Following the jury's decision...
the Court sentences Avril and Lacenaire...
to the death penalty.
They are to be beheaded in a public place.
Thank you.
Tomorrow the ground'll be cold.
Of course. It's January.
You writing about us?
Not only. More about me, my life.
- Every day? - Every day.
Just as it comes?
More or less.
So you can say whatever you like!
No one'll ever know if it's true.
Good night.
"My dear Mr. de Lusignan...
"as you two were most precious to me...
"my last wish is that you transfer to Princess Karolyi...
the wealth of affection you had for me. "
"My dear Ida...
"strong as may be your love for your new husband...
"my last wish is that you see...
"a great deal of Father de Lusignan...
"enough to become, so to speak...
his girlfriend. "
This is Avril's Diary
He was unjustly sentenced to death
Chabrol...
do you love me?
Tomorrow, as you go for a stroll...
please deliver these two letters personally.
Of course.
Sorry to disturb your sleep...
but things may be rather hectic later on.
Subtitles by Captions, Inc. Los Angeles