All language subtitles for La faute de labbe Mouret 1970

In 1970, when he filmed
"The Demise of Father Mouret",

Georges Franju, at 58,
had a big reputation of adapting novels.

His "Thérèse Desqueyroux" from Mauriac
and "Thomas l'imposteur" from Cocteau

made him one of the modest directors
who want to serve the literary work

rather than using it to their advantage.

Here, he's adapting Zola,
who was considered by Cocteau

a great unknown lyrical author.
Very nice.

Although
"The Demise of Father Mouret"

is not the best work by the
author of "Les Rougon-Macquart",

it still shows the preoccupation
of the anti-clerical Franju

against the provincial hypocrisy.

The film starts beautifully
with lovers hanging out in a field,

which is naturalistic and beautiful.

Suddenly, the father of the girl
shows up holding a stick,

and the priest who was with him
calls the girl a slut.

Extreme hypocrisy.

Georges Franju said later
that he had made a mistake

by announcing in the titles that he
filmed partly at La Roseraie in Orléans.

He said, "This publicity thanking didn't
help create a sense of disorientation.

"because Zola's garden,
the background of this drama,

"was expressing delusions.

"When Zola describes
the park of temptation,

"he's no longer the naturalist writer
that he used to be.

"He's a visionary poet." End of quote.

Evidently, this element
that charmed Franju in the novel,

the Paradou of Zola,
was imaginary and unreal, yet,

by immediately stating the location,
this place did seem less magical.

The abbot Mouret is played by a romantic
and pale-skinned Francis Huster,

who started his film carrier
triumphantly at 23.

It's his first film and he's perfect.
Let's admit it.

The conservatory and the Comédie
Française prepared him for inspiration.

He prays on his knees, with
watering eyes in front of Virgin Mary.

"Deliver me from temptation.

"Release me from this vile body",
he says.

His female fans
will never forget this moment,

while hoping that God will never release
him from his assets.

Facing Francis Hutser,
we forget

the beautiful Gillian Hills.

The screen doesn't give her justice
because she's very pretty.

Franju filmed, in color, this story
about the sin of a religious man.

A Paradou in black and white
might have been less tempting.

Nevertheless, here's
"The Demise of Father Mouret",

by Georges Franju, 1970.

Franju is the scientific reality,

the psychological disorder,

and the artistic inspiration.

The Georges Franju cycle, in April,
on the Classique channel.

Whoa!

Holy Mary Mother of God!

I'm going to kill you both!

You should spill cold water
on them, like dogs.

I will teach you,
for wallowing on my land.

With my daughter.
Scum!

With your master's daughter.
You miserable bastard!

But I didn't force your daughter,
Rosalie. She wanted that.

Shut up, scumbag!

Slacker!

I will teach you.

Don't you also want to marry her?

And have a baby with her?

And get my money too?
Is that what I'm paying you for?

Slacker! Go back to your plow.

Faster.

Giddy up!

Go back to the farm, whore.

I will whip you all the way there!

If our Lord Jesus
didn't forbid honest people

from stoning the adulterous woman,
maybe there would have been less whores.

Demon.

Go.

Go!

Stop.

Do we offer our respect
and obedience to our superiors?

Yes, we offer our respect
and obedience to our superiors.

Why?

Because they are above us.

Who is the highest superior who
gives us, through God, in his kindness?

The Emperor Napoleon III.

Brother, is the Emperor rich?

Very rich.

Like all the good people.

Hell must be full of rich people,
isn't it, Brother Archangias?

Oh, really?

Why?

Because Father Mouret said

that it's more difficult
for the rich to enter heaven

than for a cow to go through a needle.

Father Mouret said that?

That's the real road to perdition.

It's you who will go to hell,
you miserable little creatures.

The big hairy devil will stab you
with stakes in the heart.

He will throw you alive in the fire.

He will pull your eyes out.

You can always shout,
"I won't do it again."

Too late. You will be damned.

You will burn,

eternally.

Because you have committed
all the deadly sins.

Lying.

Stealing.

Gluttony.

Laziness.

Hold out your hands.

Sin.

Are you afraid of daylight, old owl?

Of course not.

But the housing inspector said

that contributions for doors
and windows will be doubled.

So as a result, I will only have
enough money for the door.

And your children,
don't they help you?

They want me to die, yes.

They think that I'm hiding some money.

They must be really stupid.

Well, I'm not dead yet.

The old Corentin will go first.

Is it going to be soon?

She won't last until tomorrow.

The Lord be with you.

And with your spirit.

If you seek him,
he will be present for you.

Glory be to Thee, O Lord.

The Lord be with you.

And with your spirit.

Pray, brothers and sisters.

Thank you, abbot.

Your lack of skill is pitiful.

- Give me your tool.
- No.

Now this is a true Virgin Mary.

She's beautiful.

It's well painted.

This thing will cost too much.

This thing?

It's our Holy Virgin Mary.

I ask you to be respectful
when you talk about her.

I'm just saying
that the parish lacks the means

to renew the deteriorating
sacred clothes.

And the municipality refuses to pay
for the most urgent repairs. so...

So?

I'm offering this to the church,

where it's missing.

For me, that one is enough.

As for that,
she's like a Parisian woman.

Brother.

I meant to say, a woman.

The mother of our Lord was a woman.

Exactly.

Be careful with your devotion
to Virgin Mary, Abbot.

She'll take you too far.

What's the matter?
What's wrong?

Nothing, it's the exhaustion.

You're not eating,
and you can't stay up on your feet.

We still have to know,
in these conditions,

if the sacrifice is valid.

If you don't want me to serve the mass,
you should find us a choir boy.

You might as well try finding
a virgin girl in this country.

However, women are still
inadmissible in cult services,

as far as I know.

Even though nowadays,
there are strange novelties.

The church is dangerously
losing ground with modernism.

We can expect anything,
even the mass in French.

Come on.

Let's be sensible, Brother.

It will really make God angry,
if we stop talking to him in Latin.

He definitely won't understand
another language.

In any case,
no one will attend your mass.

Peasants have a lot of work
in the fields this season.

The people in Les Artaud are irreligious
beasts and only think about their land.

They would fornicate
with their rocks if they could.

We should never lose hope in sinners.

You are a good person, Abbot

That's the easiest part.

But if religion is disappearing
in rural areas,

that's because it became too kind.

It was respected as long as
it was the master, without forgiveness.

I wonder what they teach you now
in the seminaries.

The new priests are becoming soft
like children.

If this continues,

we will see priests
taking off their robes,

wearing work uniforms,
and hanging out with factory workers.

Now that would be funny.

Believe me, you won't get anywhere
by setting an example, and being soft.

Here, you have to lead them by force.

After 15 years of trying
to straighten the bastards,

I haven't succeeded
at making one single Christian.

Don't you want to eat, abbot?

No doubt that he doesn't like
my sandwiches.

Don't be upset, La Teuse,

I don't feel hungry today.

Never.

We have to feed the body.

- Do you mind?
- You had enough!

I wonder why the Bishop assigned
the poorest parish in the diocese,

and the toughest one,
to someone as delicate as you are.

I chose Les Artaud.

What a strange idea.

At the seminary, I only dreamt
of attaining salvation in solitude,

and renunciation.

But my confessor made me understand
that I will be an outsider.

Priesthood is a battle.

A battle?

Then you're in the right place.

This very morning, I saw
Bambousse beating his daughter

for fornicating with Fortuné.

And at this time,

the heirs of the old Corentin
are probably fighting each other.

Corentin is dead?

Maybe not yet,
but she will die for sure.

Why didn't you warn me?

And what if she dies without salvation?

But she doesn't want that.

And what's the point anyway?
She's already damned.

During the 1793 revolution, she did
the Goddess of Reason completely naked,

in the church.

Oh well.

He hasn't lived his life,
and doesn't know anything.

It doesn't bother him to be pure
like a young angel.

He's the kind of young angels
that Satan prefers.

Hey!

Serge, my boy.

Uncle Pascal.

Can't you call me Dr. Pascal
like everyone else?

You must be going to a patient.

They came to tell me at Plassans.

Jeanbernat, you know,
the superintendent of the Paradou.

Oh yes, the evildoer.

He had a stroke at night.

I still want to go and check.

These old devils are tough.

Take me with you, uncle.

Maybe this unfortunate man will want to
reconcile with God in his final hours.

Him? You'll never convert that guy.
Get in anyway.

He will be cured just by seeing you.

You know what?
I don't think you're in good health.

I would like to examine you.

I'm not sick.

A few mild headaches.
From time to time.

This needs to be examined, closely.

Giddy up.

- You've never been here?
- No.

It's hard to believe
how close we are to Les Artaud.

Albine.

Albine.

Albine?

She's Jeanbernat's niece. She should be
watching him, but where is she?

Albine.

What's the matter?

What do you want from Albine?

Well, well.

How come you're up, joker?

I don't need anybody.

I bled myself with my knife.

What is it? What is that?

He's my nephew, a brave young man.

I don't want bigots at my house.

Their presence is enough to kill people.

I told you, doctor, that I don't want
priests or drugs when I'm ready to die.

Otherwise, we'll just be angry.

Since he's your nephew, this shouldn't
stop us from sharing a drink.

Albine.

Albine.

She's always in this damn Paradou.

Albine.

This is the first time
I drink with a priest.

Abbot Caffin, your predecessor,

was afraid of me.

He wanted to prove to me
that God exists.

- I welcomed him appropriately.
- What do you mean?

God doesn't exist?

No, and I can prove it.

I read a bunch of books,
saved from the fire at the castle.

All the 18th century philosophers
have taught me so much about religion.

Yes, abbot.

I believe in Voltaire,
d'Alembert, and Diderot.

And I don't believe in superstition,
credulity, and faith.

If you want to discuss that,
then explain to me,

if God exists,
why does evil exist?

But the Christ...

precisely.

The Christ.

We're less miserable
since he came, aren't we?

The Christ of suffering.
Do we even know if he really came?

There's nothing,
and that's the real truth.

We're nothing
but a little mould on Earth.

All this is a joke.

There's nothing.

Before, during, and after.

There is our eternal soul.

What a discovery!

Giddy up.

I told you, with that man,
you have no chance.

The miserable thinks there is no soul.

It's sad.

I feel that he's so kind and sensitive.

- Who made him superintendent?
- The last owner of the domain

is an aristocrat who lives in Paris.

He seems to be involved in politics,
and not interested in the Paradou.

Albine, there you are.

Where were you hiding?
What's making you laugh?

I don't know. I'm happy.

You're the new priest of Les Artaud.

I would like to visit you,
and hear from you about God,

but my uncle doesn't want that.

You prefer to wander in the Paradou.

It's my garden,
and it belongs to me alone.

- Goodbye, cute girl.
- Goodbye, doctor.

Goodbye, abbot.

Giddy up!

Funny girl, isn't she?

She was 10 when her father died,

and ended up living with this pagan.

Did you see how she looks now?

Well, when she first came here,
she was a little girl from the city.

She was already knowledgeable and used
to read, sew, and play the piano.

And she was a coquette,
with her embroidered skirts.

Her straw hats from Italy.

Her frills.

Despite her attitude.

We can say she came back to nature.

She grew up in the Paradou,
and Jeanbernat didn't interfere at all.

What a strange way
to raise this little girl, isn't it?

When I mentioned that
to Jeanbernat, he told me

that we shouldn't stop the trees
from growing freely.

Well, Babet,
your wild roses are beautiful.

Every mule in the country
has pissed on them.

Lisa!

Are you wallowing on the altar now?

Give me this, hussy.

Go!

You want to celebrate the immaculate
month with these shameless girls?

It's a scandal to see women
rubbing themselves against the altar.

So close to the sacred relics.

They desecrate the church.

Are you done laughing, slackers?

Move away faster!

We should break their backs
to make God accept them.

To our dear mother

Let's sing this new song

It's the month of Mary

It's the most beautiful month

Abbot, you should have told me
that you were going to the Paradou.

Father Caffin
didn't hide anything from me.

His confessions must be very unpleasant.

I know what I owe the endangered souls.

Jeanbernat is a dog,
and should die like a dog.

I'd rather throw the host to a pig,
than to bring it to that evildoer.

May heaven crush him,
along with his devil girl.

Please, Archangias.

That girl never had her communion.

She grew up like an animal.

I saw her running
on hands and feet in a bush.

She was jumping like a wild cat.

Her lifted skirt was showing her thighs.

If I had a rifle,
I would have shot her,

if we had the right to do that.

She comes meowing every night around
Les Artaud like pigs in heat.

If a man ever falls under her spell,

she'll eat him alive.

You had a rough day, abbot.

You should go to bed.

You are my refuge.

The ivory tower
where I preserved my purity.

I put myself in your immaculate hands.

I only want to be a child.

And walk in the shadow of your robe.

Queen of angels.

Don't abandon me.

Because I'm on the brink.

I'm surrounded by sin.

I'm trembling.

Because the sin I'm facing
has taken a human shape.

Help me get rid of it.

And deliver me from temptation.

Liberate me from my vile body.

Have mercy.

Have mercy.

Mother.

Oh venerable virgin.

Give me the death of everything.

Mother, mother, save me.

Help me.

I wasn't sleeping.

I heard you.

Walking slowly.

How do you feel?

You're real, aren't you?

This is not a dream.

I'm next to you.

But how?

Nobody knows in Les Artaud
who brought him here.

Don't say anything, alright?

Who do you want me to talk to?

I never see anybody.

And he's cured now.

Cured?

I really thought that this bad fever

might mercifully bring him back
to his senses.

I'm not worried anymore
about his senses, but...

But what?

His memory. He doesn't seem
to remember his past.

Does he want to remember it?

You see? Those burning rocks,

there, at Les Artaud, and the mistral.

That was very bad for you.

Les Artaud?

The village.

The village?

You need trees.

Tranquility, and fresh air.

Nobody will bother us.

You don't need drugs anymore.

You need to be loved.

Marthe, Serge's mother,
was a hysterical sanctimonious person.

His father ended up criminally insane.

They're dead?

And Serge is alive and well.

Alive, yes, but the recovery
will take a long time.

And I don't want him
to return to Les Artaud right away.

He's welcome to stay here.

Albine wants to take care of him
by herself, so let her continue.

Are you still alone here?

Of course.

I want you to be alone.

All alone.

You have to talk to me,
so I stop hearing these bells.

It comforts me to hear you talking.

Do you want to drink?

Your hand is soft.

It relieves my pain.

Do you want me to open the curtains?

- No, no.
- It's really nice outside.

- You'll see the trees.
- No, please don't.

I don't care about anything except you.

Keep your hand.

I want to sleep.

Everything is dead.

I am dead too.

I'll never see you again.

The underground.

I'm suffocating.

For how many years...

These rocks in front of me...

How can I get out?

Tell me my good friend.

I'm lost.

I'm strayed.

Where is the church?

My church.

Let me go.

Let me go!

Watch out!

The bell.

The bell.

It's falling.

It's dark.

Stop talking, Serge.

Please, baby.

When you'll wake up,

The sun will be back.

For us.

The sun.

Life.

It's beautiful, isn't it?

The garden is behind the trees.

It's huge.

This garden belongs to me.

And it belongs to you too, now.

I'll never have enough strength.

Yes, yes, I want that.

You'll see.

There are places I've never visited.

We'll discover them.

The beautiful garden
that you promise me,

scares me.

My uncle tells me the same thing,
but he's old.

And we're young.

You're still weak.

You'll see soon.

Soon.

You're so handsome.

I've never really seen
how handsome you are.

It passed.

Where are you taking me?

Where do you want to go?

You come back sometimes
with petals in your hair.

And you smell like roses.

The smell of roses
is too strong for you.

I can never sit under the rose tree,
without wanting to cry.

Where will you take me?

Far. Very far.

Who built this castle?

A rich master, a long time ago.

He came to live in seclusion
with a lady.

Very beautiful.

Like a queen.

He was hiding her well,

behind high walls.

Nobody ever saw that beautiful lady.

The castle was a palace.

There were pools.

And fountains everywhere.

The lady never left the Paradou.

And died in it.

Is she buried here?

Definitely.

Then the castle burned down.

When the master left,
his hair was all white.

The Paradou was abandoned.

- You know, the lady?
- What lady?

The beautiful lady.

She knew a nice shady place.

And used to spend days there,

and whole nights.

I haven't found it yet.

You're dreaming.

No, it does exist.

But where is it?

I looked everywhere.

But now you're going to help me.

What a joy it will be for us.

To sit in the shadow of the tree.

The big tree.

Where we live a whole life
in one minute.

The dead lady is buried there, I'm sure.

The joy of stopping there

is what killed her.

The tree has a shadow

whose charm can kill.

I want to die

Like that.

You'll take me in your arms,

we'll be dead,

and nobody will ever find us.

Stop it.

I want us to live in the sun,

away from that deadly shadow.

It must be forbidden to sit down

under a tree
whose shadow is that scary.

Yes, it is forbidden.

Everyone told me that.

But dying happily,

is not forbidden.

We'll find him together.

God.

Say that you want that.

I want that.

We're lost.

You're not afraid?

No, there's nobody here except us.

Let's walk slowly,
and not find our way back quickly.

I love you.

I love you.

How do you love me?

More than everything.

To the point of giving you
all my heart,

and leave nothing
for the rest of the world.

Why do you love me?

Because you came along.

Let's go quickly.

Let's go.

Let's get out of here.

Serge!

Serge, I found it!

I found it!

Serge!

Serge, I found it, I found it!

I found it! I found it!

Please, don't tell me anything.
I don't want to know.

If you prefer staying
in this stifling room...

We were unhappy for a while.

There, if you want,
everything will be like before.

The garden will love us again.

It's a lie. It's not forbidden.

They said that
so we don't disturb them

in the most beautiful part
of the garden.

Once we're there,

you'll be perfectly happy.

And only then,

we will know everything.

We'll become the real masters.

Come with me.

It's really nice to hear you say that.

If you knew...

It's an indescribable joy.

It won't be possible for me to be happy,

if you don't come.

We will live there,

to love each other,

forever.

It's a tree of life.

Do you want that?

Do you want that?

It's there.

I love you, Albine.

I love you, Serge.

You're not angry at me?

You'll see.

I'll be very discreet.

Didn't you hear that?

They are the noises of the garden.

Someone came in.

I beg you!

Take me with you!

Hide me! Let's hide!

Serge, don't look!

Don't stop! Have mercy!

You promised to always love me.

You can't reject me.

Les Artaud.

Les Artaud.

God,

we have sinned.

Let's run away. Get up!

Death will enter through this hole.

I don't know who I am anymore.

I killed myself.

I have my own blood on my hands.

Do you love me?

We knew that you were hiding there,
with this naked female.

This is an abomination.
She has dragged you into corruption.

This whore has tempted you.

And for her sake, you disobeyed God.

Don't touch her anymore.
She's the door to hell.

Do you love me?

Do you love me?

In the name of God,
get out of this garden!

In the name of God...

Your mercy is infinite.

But I have sinned beyond the sins
that you suffered so much to redeem.

I'm not asking you
to forgive my mistake.

I'm only asking you, my Lord,
to give my guilty body

the force to fulfill my duty,
and to give my lost soul,

at the bottom of unworthiness,

the slightest

gleam

of hope.

Dear brother.

Dear sister.

You are united in Jesus.

It's a link that nothing can break.

And God wants it to be eternal.

So man doesn't separate
what heaven has joined.

You must love each other,
through the love of God.

That's how you will walk together,
without ever losing your way,

and you will find happiness.

She could have left her baby at home,
on her wedding day.

Cute baby.

Are you done with your dirty talk,
you bunch of sluts.

If you continue, I will throw you out.

When I think that she has a baby,
and yet she wears a white wedding dress.

Slut.

My dear brother, it's God
who's giving you today a companion.

Because God didn't want men to live

alone.

Nothing is better than loving,

except protecting those we love.

Take your woman in your arms,

and may you be damned

if you ever abandon her.

When are you going to stop watching me?

I can feel you monitoring
every move I make.

Your soul is in danger,
and I'm looking after it.

The danger has been pushed away.

No, that carnal decay is not dead.

I'm not asking
for your trust or your pity.

I'm simply asking for your charity.

You're not entitled to anyone's charity.

You should atone in despair.

It's him, the beggar.

I should have known, because I noticed
the smell of rotten cadavers.

Come with me, brother, please.

Hey, good morning, abbot.
Don't run away, are you afraid of me?

So, abbot Mouret,
we don't see you anymore at the Paradou.

I've been very busy.

You are free, everybody is free.

The only thing that bothers me is that

my little girl was under
the wrong impression.

She thinks you stopped visiting
because of me.

Even though I'm not annoying.
You must admit that.

Well, well!

Are you walking your pig, abbot.

Wait a minute, you atheist dog.

I swore I would go cut your ears
during your class, you bigot.

For abusing the children.

But in the meantime,
I have the urge to beat you.

You spit on the church, I saw you.

You steal the consecrated hosts to make
the girls have a miscarriage. Murderer!

I will report you to the police.

You're the one who's going to jail,
you slandering bigot.

What a foolish priest,
with all the stories he tells.

Please, I'm begging you.

You shut up. You are his accomplice.

He made you desecrate the cross.
You're despicable.

Sorcerer! You must have laughed
when you imprisoned a priest.

At night, you were injecting rage
into his head.

You made him an animal in heat.
And your slut,

it's you who threw her naked
in his bed.

Idiot!

In his bed, yes, bastard,
completely naked.

And you put a crucifix in the mattress,

to desecrate it.

I will exterminate you.
God is guiding my arm.

And now, that's enough.
You have annoyed me so much.

I will cut your ears.

Stop it, stop it!

This is horrible!
Come on, Jeanbernat, you're crazy!

You're wrong, abbot.

This bigot needs a good bleeding.

Well, since it aggravates you, abbot,

I will wait.

She's been really sad for a while now.

I don't hear her laughing anymore.

Well, you'll come back
if you find it in your heart.

Have a good evening, abbot.

Listen abbot, your mistake
has made me your superior.

God is telling you through my voice,
that if you go back there,

you will suffer horribly in hell.

Abbot.

Hey!

- What?
- It's served.

Where were you again?

You should be careful, abbot.

Since your illness, there are moments
when you look deaf, and blind.

You have to regain your health.

Come on, eat my soup,
it's good in your condition.

I don't think so.

No.

Do you intend to spend another day
without eating?

I'm not hungry.

You should tell me what's hurting you.

Thank you my dear La Teuse,

but I don't have any pain.

What you suffer from,

you'll keep it on your conscience
until it suffocates you.

If you were feeling so good there,
abbot, then you must go back.

There must be someone better than me
to take care of you.

We should never commit sin.

Serge,

I came to get you.

I've been waiting for you for days,
and weeks.

Give me your hands. Let's go.

You shouldn't be here. Go away.

You will only increase your suffering.

I don't suffer when I'm yours,
and when you're mine.

You are wrong.

I belong to God.

Will your God be angry at me,

even though he's the one
who made me how I am?

This is blasphemy.

You're desecrating his house.

Let's go then.

I can't.

I am a priest.

When I saw you so free,
I thought you were no longer a priest.

So, you're not a man?

Your pain shouldn't be
considered a crime.

Despite how unworthy I am,
I still pray for you every night.

Keep your prayers
and your deaths for yourself.

- You live in a pit.
- No.

Here, everything comes back to life,
and climbs to the source of light.

Look.

Look at all the suffering
that my God endured for you.

For me.

Jesus is beaten with a rod.

His flesh is torn.

He's bleeding.

The soldiers are insulting him.

His face is covered with spit.

Remember, Serge.
You were only thinking about living.

- And being happy.
- Shut up.

He gets up on the cross.

He falls, and gets up again.

He struggles under
the weight of the cross.

He carries on his shoulders
all the sins of the world.

Look at me, Serge.

Remember the flowers of the garden.

The roads we took.
Our happiness.

Who talks about happiness,
when Jesus is on the cross.

The nails going into his open hands.

His bones are cracking.

The weight of his tortured body
horribly tears his wounds.

Jesus dies on the cross.

Darkness propagates.

The Earth trembles.

The sepulchers open up.

Let the dead burry the dead.

Come.

Life is full of light,

and love.

You're right.
Death is what exists here.

Death is what I want.

It's what delivers us from all sins.

I ignore life. I refuse it.

I spit on it.

Your garden is a mass grave.

There's nothing there
but evil and darkness.

Go away.

So it's over?

You're pushing me away?

And yet I am your woman.

Go away!

We're going to die.

To die.

- Is Serge there?
- He's reading his Breviary in his room.

- Should I call him?
- Reading his Breviary? No.

Don't call him.
I'll strangle him.

Tell him that Albine is dead.
Do you hear me? She's dead.

Tell him also that she was pregnant.
This will please him.

Giddy up!

What are you doing there?

I'm digging a hole for the young girl.

She'll sleep well in it.

My poor friend, this is not permissible.

What do you mean? Do you think
I'm going to let the priests take her?

I will welcome them with gun shots.

You can't fight the law.

Oh well. The farce is over.

Let them take her,
since they killed her.

For the last time, I will tell you
that it's extremely sacrilegious

to burry a pagan who committed
suicide in a Christian land.

Go away. You're not welcome here.

We'll see what the Bishop
think about that.

Oh Lord.

Our Father.

May you rest in peace.

I'll cut the left ear some other time.

THE END