Original subtitles

The Maurizius Affair

In Berne, in November, Etzel Andergast, son of Chief Prosecutor Wolf Andergast...

...first met the old man with the sailor's cap.

57, 58, 59... Gentlemen, the minute is up.

No one is guilty.

So everyone is guilty.

I admire your solidarity in idiocy, and since I can't punish you all...

...one of you will pay for the rest.

Mr. Desartisse, you will stay after school Tuesdays and Fridays until Easter

And you will copy out in German the complete works of Nietzsche...

...including drafts and notes.

That will give you time to meditate on the human condition.

But it wasn't me!

You can avoid this punishment by pointing out the real culprit. No?

Nothing to say? Punishment confirmed.

Desartisse didn't do anything, Sir! This is an injustice.

Really, Mr. Andergast? You know the author of this very dubious joke?

It was me. --You're mad! It's not true, Sir!

It was me, and I should be punished. --That's not true!

Mr. Andergast doesn't seem to be lying. So it's you, then.

Since you had such bad taste and stupidity...

...you will serve Mr. Desartisse's punishment.

Good day, gentlemen!

Nice going - now you're a martyr!

Andergast.

I don't quite understand; what is this about?

Mr. Teller always has a box of candy in the pocket of his overcoat. Yesterday...

One of you mixed laxatives into his candies, right?

Yes, sir.

The investigation was forced by blatant disrespect.

Mr. Teller was within his rights.

Did you participate in this farce, Andergast?

Mr. Teller abuses his power.

Punishing Desartisse was a deliberate injustice.

Do you think a lie will make up for it?

To accept injustice without revolting, makes one a coward.

Yes; for such opinions saints and heros have often spilled their blood.

Give my regards to your father.

Tell him how much I admired his remarks on the Hoffmann case.

Andergast!

Am I late? --Your coat is covered in mud!

Is my father in? --What happened to you? Look at this!

I was nearly run over. Luckily Tilman was there. I was crossing the road...

I don't like that Tilman, I've told you before.

I would prefer you to choose your friends from less vulgar backgrounds.

Have you anything to say?

Serve the dinner.

I saw Mr. Rath.

The headmaster.

Ah, yes - he's an idiot.

I like him; he's a very good man, who understands things.

What things? --Our aspirations, our problems.

He asked me to give you his regards. --Thank you.

He very much liked your remarks on... I forget the name.

It doesn't matter.

What does that old guy want?

What's wrong? You look like the devil is after you!

Your grandmother phoned. She expects you for tea tomorrow afternoon.

My name is Maurizius.

Goodnight, Father.

Goodnight. Going upstairs already? --I have some homework.

Who is this Maurizius, Father?

Why do you want to know?

Oh, nothing. I just met him and he seemed a funny old fellow. Who is he?

This is not a subject we can discuss.

Does that mean something, Maurizius? --What?

Do you know who Maurizius is?

Why are you bothering with it?

Go do your homework, or tomorrow morning you'll be white as a sheet.

Tell me, Grandmama, have you ever heard of a certain Maurizius?

Oh, don't talk about names!

You know my old Nanny - she was with me for 24 years.

But some days I'd say "Elise! Elise! don't you hear the bell?"

Even though her name was Maria.

What was the name? --Maurizius.

Ah, yes, yes. What made you think of that?

I just want to know. Did something happen?

Oh, it's a story from another world, it's so long ago.

That long ago?

Let me think; it was 18 years ago. Two years before you were born.

Father was involved? He had something to do with this Maurizius?

Yes, indeed.

He was really just a nobody back then.

Just a deputy prosecutor.

But this case put him in the spotlight and made him famous.

Oh, tell me!

The Maurizius Affair - it was a diabolical case.

You think that we live in a peaceful, quiet world.

If you'd seen it back then.

Especially you couldn't avoid the barricades.

People were pro-Maurizius and anti-Maurizius.

And they argued it out in cafes and clubs.

Was it that serious? --That Maurizius! What was his name?

Well, he was accused of having shot his wife to death.

There was a sensational trial.

I think I didn't miss a single hearing.

How long ago it was!

I see the people walking by, as if it were happening right now.

Yes, I see it clearly.

The day of the verdict there was a revolution.

When the public entered the courtroom, the atmosphere was electric.

The majority sympathized with the accused.

The accused will rise.

The Court of Assizes of the 2nd Arrondisement of Berne...

...based on its deliberations decrees that the accused - Maurizius, Leonard...

...is found guilty of the murder committed the night of October 22 1935.

Having with intent and premeditation killed his wife, Maurizius, Elisabeth...

...formerly Hensolt, nee Jahn, and is condemned to life imprisonment.

It's an outrage! He's sentenced to life in prison!

There had never been such riots in front of the bench.

I was covered with mud, and my blouse was ripped!

A beautiful one with lace I brought back from...

But why the riots?

Because Maurizius - Leonard - didn't look the part.

He wasn't the kind who'd commit murder.

He was an intellectual, very respected in his field.

Writing, I think - no, Professor of Art History.

And he killed his wife?

Oh, that was the thing! There was no formal proof.

It was all presumption.

They could convict a man purely on presumption?

Oh, it was a sad story; I've forgotten the details.

Everything was against him: men, things, space and time.

It all added up to an avalanche of presumption.

And your father connected everything to bring it to a certain conclusion.

A certainty that in fact didn't exist.

I never believed that such a refined man could say "I'm innocent!" when accused.

It didn't fool me. Or that he could shoot his wife, just like that.

But if there was doubt, then the judge who convicted him was a traitor!

Yes, that day I looked at your father.

Amid all the uproar, he remained silent.

Suddenly I'd discovered a stranger.

Since then he makes me afraid.

So we're talking about a man who could be innocent who was buried alive.

We're responsible for this crime, because it is a crime, isn't it?

He's still alive?

Oh, no doubt!

Was he a young man, Maurizius? --Twenty-five or 26.

Twenty five plus 18; he'd be 43 now.

So that old man... --What old man?

Nothing.

What's wrong with you today? You haven't had any cake!

Appeal of trial, presented by Pierre-Paul Maurizius.

On behalf of his son Leonard Maurizius, sentenced Dec. 14, 1935.

Rejected

It's not a mistake, Mr. Andergast; I knew you'd come.

The request you made to my father came into my hands.

The gods brought you to me!

The other day when I heard your name a voice said to me:

"Pierre-Paul Maurizius, the moment has come to write your 7th appeal.

You will send it to the Supreme Court, which tends not to be concerned.

Give the copy to that young man; the story will interest him."

But the young man wouldn't listen, so I gave it to the Chief Prosecutor.

I would like to speak to you about this subject - about your son.

I would like some information.

I know, I know. Come!

I have everything ready.

You're still too young to know how a scoundrel is made.

Well, you have one before you.

Yes sir, I am a scoundrel.

Without me, nothing would have happened.

Without me, no crime, no trial, no verdict.

The person responsible is me.

But I have been punished, for 18 years.

Reduced to poverty, I've sold everything.

I've got 70,000 francs saved for when he gets out of prison.

You live alone? --I had a wife, daughter, 3 sons.

In 1929 a typhus epidemic killed 4 of them; I was left alone with Leonard.

That must have been terrible.

I took up the challenge: Pierre-Paul Maurizius against Fate.

I still had Leonard - his triumph would pay for everything.

He was always my favorite.

Intelligent; just think, at 23 he was teaching at the university!

He could have gone far. How old are you, young man?

Sixteen.

And your father - he gives you money? --Not too much.

Leonard had whatever he wanted - it was my joy to pay for him.

He had friends and connections everywhere even in the most exclusive salons.

Women loved him, listened to him, adored him.

He was the son of Pierre-Paul Maurizius the cream of Swiss society.

Then...one day...

What happened?

I wanted to strike it rich.

A voice said to me, "Watch out! The stars are unfavorable!"

I wouldn't listen, I speculated and lost everything.

I told Leonard he had to cut back his lifestyle; I refused to pay his debts.

He was shaken, upset.

For 2 months he disappeared.

Then suddenly...that.

A letter? --From him.

Read it.

"Yesterday I married Elisabeth Hensolt."

That's how he told you?

Elisabeth Hensolt, widow of Hensolt, a small paper manufacturer, a nobody...

...a woman 15 years older than him, who'd offered herself for 80,000 francs.

A scandalous, dirty business.

I answered my son categorically - I refused to see that slut.

It was her or me: choose! It was her.

One day the sorrow was too much, I needed a break...

...so I took the funicular to Gurten Hill.

It was destiny that led me there.

I thought Leonard and that slut were on their honeymoon on the Riviera.

But it was written that we would confront each other.

I'd sure like to have it. Too much?

400? 350? You can't have a horse if you won't pay for the oats!

Maybe we can scrape up enough; not a gallop, but I can let the reins.

My father.

I fear you've heard bad things about me, Mr. Maurizius.

I trust in your sense of justice.

I love Leonard. I love him as much as you can.

I love him like... --Like a mother.

Our age difference that you seem to hold against me permits me to give him...

...the calm, security and tenderness he needs.

He needs money most of all. --Father!

I didn't see him again for a year.

One evening, I was playing billiards as usual.

Pierre-Paul Maurizius, financier?

Who are you? --A friend who wishes to help.

May I?

Last Wednesday at 4:00PM, Anna Jahn waited for Leonard at the university exit.

He met her. They went to the zoo and walked together from 4:20 to 4:45.

Friday, Leonard and Anna visited the museum.

Saturday...

Why do you think this would interest me?

Just a hunch, sir.

Who is this Anna Jahn?

Elisabeth Maurizius's maiden name was Jahn. Anna Jahn is her sister.

Her younger sister.

What does this young lady have to do with my son?

What does she have to do?

She came from France a few months ago.

A dazzling beauty, sir. Anyone would fall in love with her.

Mutual friends said you'd be interested.

I'm curious, so I took the liberty...

Saturday morning at 9:30:

Loud voices and the sounds of a violent argument between Elisabeth and Leonard.

Doors slammed, at 10:05 Leonard rapidly left the house.

He seemed beside himself, and kicked the gate--

How much?

Yes, sir, I did it. I hired this blackmailer.

Every morning, his reports arrived in the mail.

In view of the life in that household, they were filled poison...

A steady supply of gossip, a constant surveillance

Oh, I swore I'd had enough of this affair.

But all I saw was appearances, appearances!

I saw only the appearances, and I rejoiced.

Events hurried along, things were at the breaking point.

I carefully filed the notes.

The night of the crime I fell asleep.

It was windy, the fire wasn't drawing well, so I left the door open.

Leonard, who hadn't darkened my doorstep for 2 years, came in.

I need 30,000 francs right away.

Ask your wife.

Impossible - I've left her.

You're leaving with your mistress? --What mistress?

Anna. --Anna's not my mistress!

Get a divorce - marry her. --She doesn't love me, I'm going alone.

My life is intolerable.

Change it - divorce. --Elisabeth won't consider it; she's ill.

I want to get away, and I need 30,000 francs right away!

I'm not your banker. --But you're my father!

That woman tore you from my memory.

But it's not possible! This is the only solution.

I need 30,000 francs to save me from disaster.

At my age that doesn't work anymore.

Yes, I acted like a scoundrel. I threw him out without a penny.

This triggered the tragedy.

Here's how the papers during the trial described it.

Leonard Maurizius, at the end of his rope...

...infuriated by his wife who refused to divorce him...

...madly infatuated with his young sister-in-law...

...decided to put an end to it all.

In the hotel room where he'd taken refuge several days before...

...he changed his appearance and shaved his moustache.

What was he to do?

Would he wipe out in one act a brilliant and successful past?

Elisabeth came outside on hearing her husband's arrival.

What motive drove her to meet him, no one will ever know.

Suddenly Leonard Maurizius drew a gun and shot her dead.

At that moment, Gregoire Waremme, who witnessed the crime...

There! That's what they wrote.

Elisabeth went to meet her husband, he drew a gun and she was shot in the back.

You hear? In the back!

Well, that was that, Gregoire Waremme swore to it.

He witnessed the crime and testified under oath.

Who would doubt the word of Gregoire Waremme?

Who is this Waremme?

Who was he? Oh, at that time, the brilliant Waremme...

...the star of salons, the literary lion, the uncontested arbiter of Art.

I can see him entering the courtroom as if it were yesterday.

His authority, his dignity.

The court was impressed by that impassive face...

...that eye of steel, that warm, persuasive voice.

Gregoire Antoine Waremme, born at Vitebsk, Oct. 8, 1900.

I am an art critic for a Berne journal.

You must tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

False testimony can be punished with imprisonment.

You cannot refuse to testify unless your testimony may incriminate you.

You were the intimate friend of the accused?

I met Leonard Maurizius in 1934.

He had just published a remarkable book on religious sentiment in art.

I wrote a reasoned and sincere review; he wrote to me and we met.

Since what happened, we have not seen each other.

What are your feelings towards the accused?

I beg the court to excuse my emotion.

I consider him one of the clearest thinkers of this era...

...and the most faithful of men.

Will you tell me what happened the night of the crime?

Oct. 22, I was at my club when I received a phone call from Anna Jahn.

What time was that? --Approximately 7:00.

Miss Jahn was with her sister who was ill in bed.

She was afraid because she'd heard disturbing steps in the garden.

I responded and arrived several minutes later.

On opening the gate, I saw an unfamiliar man heading toward the house.

Just as I was about to intervene the front lights came on.

Elisabeth Maurizius came out of the house.

She saw the man and moved toward him.

Suddenly he pulled a gun from his pocket and fired at his wife.

So the man was Leonard Maurizius?

Yes, your Honor. --Thank you, sir.

Does counsel have any questions for the witness?

The witness stated that he considered the accused the most faithful of men.

Would he say he absolutely respected his marriage contract with Elisabeth Hensolt?

In intimate human relations, the person we know best can remain an enigma to us.

The witness is nevertheless aware of the discord between the couple?

Leonard revealed it to me.

On various occasions I intervened to try to arrange things.

Didn't this disagreement arise from his feelings for his wife's sister?

Leonard had developed an unfortunate passion for his sister-in-law.

Unfortunate? What do you mean?

In the sense that it was hopeless.

Miss Jahn told him her loyalty and honor barred any act that could harm her sister.

It's clear that Elisabeth resented the relationship between her husband and sister.

Elisabeth Maurizius was the victim of an abominable campaign of lies.

Harassed by base insinuation, she tortured herself until she fell ill.

Fortunately, her sister cared for her with ceaselss devotion.

Thank you.

Maitre Volant?

The witness states that Elisabeth left the house to meet her husband.

So how did it happen that she was shot in the back?

As she approached, she saw the gun.

Her terror caused her to turn to run back to the house.

At that moment, Leonard fired.

And Elisabeth was shot in the back.

This testimony was perjury!

Gregoire Waremme lied.

He was your son's friend. --He betrayed his friendship.

But why? --To shield someone.

Who? --That was for justice to find out.

Waremme swore he saw him kill his wife. And your son said nothing?

He said "I'm innocent! I'm innocent!"

I'd like to study this document. May I take it?

Take it, take it!

The stars are favorable.

Hello Desemieres. How's your health?

Not so great. --And business?

Just like my health. I was passing by and--

That's very good of you: unfortunately I'm not having breakfast here today.

I've been invited to join the Chief Justice.

The Chief Justice is the one who is honored, my dear Prosecutor.

Can I drop you at home?

Would you mind if I stayed to visit with my friend Etzel?

You'll find him in the kitchen - the only one having breakfast today.

Goodbye.

Please, Councillor, have a little something!

No, no, I've already eaten.

You're making a mistake, Councillor; the stew is wonderful!

Have a bit - you mustn't go hungry.

It smells good! --Give it a try.

Perhaps you can help me out, Mr. Desemieres.

Of course, anything for a friend.

Someone told me about a case...

It's really ancient history.

A case about a man named Maurizius. Do you recall it?

Perfectly! That was some years ago.

Pass the salt, please.

I was very interested in that case back in the day.

Did you know girl - Lian, Anna, something?

You mean Anna Jahn? Maurizius's sister-in-law?

Yes. I suppose she was quite amazing.

I heard she captivated the whole country.

Oh yes, she was... she had a... well, you know what I mean.

Do you know what happened to her?

I believe she married an industrialist.

The Maurizius Affair.

You should have heard your father's closing argument.

And the trial! On one side, the accused: less criminal than weak, spineless...

...pushed to his limits, but supported by an irresponsible, frivolous public.

On the other, Wolf Andergast, alone. Conscience, discipline, glory.

He didn't acknowledge the other, he didn't look at him.

Nothing existed for him but the Law and Punishment.

One hour before the verdict, the accused thought he'd be acquitted.

Then Wolf Andergast took the floor.

They called him 'Andergast the Inexorable'.

What force! What eloquence! What flawless argument!

In one hour the defendant's fate was sealed.

And for 18 years he's been behind 4 walls, behind bars.

Two years before I was born; 18 years.

Do you know how much that is?

6,555 days; 6,555 nights - I counted.

Imagine a staircase with 6,555 steps. No, you can't imagine it.

Meanwhile, for me there is the sun, wind, rain, summers and winters...

...work to do, people who pass, visits to pay, conversations with friends...

...games, trips, laughter...

And for him - nothing. Four walls.

Yes, but society has a right to defend itself.

Society?

It's excellent stew.

So you read it? --All of it!

All! Such perspicacity! A masterpiece of diligence.

What became of Waremme?

Not clear; where did he come from? Waremme.

And what role did he play? Waremme.

What did he do after the trial?

He left the country. It was too hot for him, best friend of a murderer.

The year after the sentence they were both seen at Deauville.

What do you mean "both"?

Anna and Waremme.

How? Who saw them?

Someone.

Tell me now.

That's my secret.

You know?

One evening last year, I was lighting my pipe.

A voice said "Pierre-Paul Maurizius, go to Lucerne."

The next day, I headed for Lucerne.

I hung about for 3 days, until the morning of the 4th.

I was intrigued by the behavior of a little girl walking in front of me.

The voice said, "There is your man!" But I couldn't believe it.

I stood there and I thought "It's him!"

He looked at me.

And I said to myself, "I must be mistaken."

I wanted to speak to him - something stopped me.

How could I start a conversation, and what if I let something slip?

I decided to reflect and come back the next day.

What was the name? Marenne? --Waremme. Gregoire Waremme.

A tall dark thin man, with beautiful eyes?

He wears black glasses. --And a beard?

Yes. --It's Mr. Warshauer

Professor Warshauer. --A professor?

A professor of languages - a very distinguished man.

Oh yes - his look goes right through you!

Could I see him? --He left this morning.

For a long time?

He said, "Goodbye, beguiling Melita, for 2 or 3 weeks."

Are you done?

I didn't go back, but Waremme is Warshauer. I'm sure of it.

Warshauer, Pension Bobike - what's the address?

14 Augustinerstrasse.

I have to see him.

Yes, yes! And good luck!

What? Five hundred francs?

Where am I to get 500 francs? And what for?

I can't tell you, and anyway, you wouldn't understand.

And I'm an idiot, to boot! --No, but you might try to prevent me.

Oh, even better! Now it sounds like I'm taking part in a plot!

Listen: I'm not being stupid, I swear.

It's not to buy something or to do anything bad.

500 francs: that's all I have for this month.

When I come back I'll return it, and you'll be proud of me.

I came to you because I have no one else.

You were always like this, even when you were little.

You wanted to gather sunbeams with a soup spoon - remember?

Mr. Etzel has disappeared!

He must have left last night with his bag and his clothes.

It's terrible! --No need to scream.

If he isn't back by this evening, we'll call the police.

Dear Father, I've left your house after struggling with my conscience.

I couldn't speak to you because everything separates us.

Since I learned of the fate of Leonard Maurizius and the role you played...

...in his conviction, I've had no rest.

I want to discover the truth.

I ask you not to look for me or have me sought for.

I'll return when I have made amends.

There! That's children for you; they spit in your face!

God only knows what idiocy the young fool has gotten into.

And naturally, you're involved!

I know he got help for his flight from you.

Your weakness, your thoughtlessness.

I often wonder if you're a real live man.

He has a heart, like everyone else.

I didn't come here to..

Do you ever look at yourself in the mirror?

What is it you see? And your son.

Did you ever wonder what effect you have on him?

Have you the least idea of that boy's heart, of what's going on inside?

Oh, no, nothing. Nothing, nothing!

Nothing of him, nothing of anyone.

And your wife, before you drove her out. Did you ever try to know who she was?

You succeeded so well at stifling everyone around you.

Zealously crushing the life out of everything.

Since his birth you've robbed him of that tenderness that can't be replaced.

What a surprise - Marianne had a lover.

And if I'd been your wife instead of your mother...

...you'd have been cuckolded on your marriage night!

I know, I'm just a crazy old woman.

That's my opinion. --Which no one asked for!

And now your son is on the trail of the Maurizius Affair.

Why isn't justice imminent? It's true - for you.

In my opinion, Maurizius always believed he was innocent.

But you were determined to win the contest!

He was defeated by Andergast; what talent!

I've always carried out my duties loyally and conscientiously.

Yes. And that's what makes you terrifying.

Justice is fallible. But in this case I'm sure I was not mistaken.

Sure? --I had full knowledge of the facts.

I couldn't have been wrong.

How bored you must be, all alone with yourself.

Well, you can follow him in looking into this case.

Such a change may win his affection

But I have no time.

I've often wanted to talk with him, but there are so many demands...

...and life goes by - I just didn't have time.

Didn't have time.

I'll make you a nice cup of tea, after everything I've told you.

That's a lot for one day.

Please give me the Secretary of the Archives.

Hello, this is Wolf Andergast.

Would you please look up the files on the Maurizius Affair...

...and have them sent to my house?

Leonard Maurizius - you remember?

1935, that's right.

You graduated from university 2 years ago.

In less than 3 years, that's remarkable!

It wasn't so much. --You're too modest!

Along with your professional accomplishments, may I inquire...

...if you had numerous successes with woman?

A few affairs, yes. --How old were the women?

My age. --You hadn't yet considered marriage.

Or developed a taste for older women.

I married Elisabeth Hensolt because I was captivated by her charm and beauty.

But you were aware of her age?

I was tired of superficial liaisons, they'd disappointed me.

I was looking for order, a sort of security and predictability.

Have you ever had money problems?

My father has always been very generous.

You had to, at a certain time, tighten your belt as they say.

Yes, he had some unfortunate reverses.

When was that? --The winter of 1932.

And 2 or 3 months later, in February 1933 you married Elisabeth Hensolt.

Did you know how much she inherited from her late husband?

Yes, she told me she received 200,000 francs.

Was that right? --No, she only had 80,000 francs.

When did you learn this? --A few days after our engagement.

And you married her anyway? --I loved her!

Just so. How did Mrs. Hensolt receive your offer of marriage?

She refused at first.

She was worried about my youth. --And her maturity.

This was just a temporary scruple.

She made a condition for our marriage: absolute openness between us.

I promised never to keep a secret from her.

Let's talk about your sister-in-law, Anna Jahn.

Did you know her before your marriage?

No, Elisabeth talked about her; at that time she was living in Paris.

When did you meet her? --One year after our marriage.

I was preparing for class, when the bell rang.

Elisabeth had gone out with her maid.

You're Leonard? I'm Anna.

What is it?

I expected an older girl with glasses and a ribbon around the neck.

Come in.

Come in. Elisabeth won't be long.

You're a university professor? --Yes.

I'm disturbing you. --Not at all; sit down.

You're angry with me? --What for?

For not coming to your wedding.

You were in Paris. --Yes - I was studying painting.

Elisabeth will be surprised to see you.

I was sick of Paris; I just jumped on the first train.

Fortunately, we have a lovely guest room for you - Elisabeth decorated it.

She has a lot of taste.

You're in love? --With the room?

No - Elisabeth. --What a question!

How old are you? --That interests you?

Yes. 18?

There's 15 years difference between my sister and me - work it out.

Thank you for the guest room, but I hate to be a burden.

Oh, you have Mr. Hensolt's books!

Are you staying in Berne? --That depends.

I'm staying at a pension with 4 moustachioed gentlemen.

2 with beards think they're the reincarnation of Don Juan.

Two or 3 old women devoted to ballet...

...and 15 vowed to perpetual virginity.

You're going to continue your studies?

No, I have to earn a living.

I was thinking of commercial art.

Surely you'll get married.

I'll never marry.

Why, are men so awful?

Often marrying means signing away your freedom.

There can be happiness in joining together.

Yes, if the chains are of gold, right?

Stupid little fool!

I saw she didn't respect me. She thought I'd married for money.

Yet she fascinated me. I wanted to gain her sympathy. An opportunity arose.

In the morning I received bad news, and I resolved to see her.

I wanted to confide a secret to her.

I hoped this mark of confidence would draw her to me.

I wanted your advice, your support.

Me? --Yes.

When I married Elisabeth I promised to have no secrets from her.

I've told her everything.

The Memoirs of Don Juan?

But there's one thing I didn't tell her:

My liaison with a young dancer named Gertrude Kerner.

Why didn't you tell her?

Because this liaison - 3 years ago, produced a child.

A child?

Yes, I had a child with this young woman; a daughter named Hildegard.

I've just learned that the mother has died.

The child is alone - I don't know what to do.

You're right to have kept quiet.

I didn't believe you capable of such delicacy.

You don't know me well. --Elisabeth must not know of this.

Where is the child?

A lawyer is temporarily responsible for her.

A childhood friend is a governess in London, currently unemployed.

Send your daughter to her; she'd be happy to raise her.

You think so? --I'll take her to London if you like.

No one will know.

I don't know what to say.

Elisabeth has been like a mother to me. Now it's my turn to look after her.

You're wonderful!

It'll be our secret.

This secret moved our relationship to a more intimate level...

...without Elisabeth's knowledge.

A little while later, I returned home in a happy mood.

A publisher had accepted my manuscript on religious art.

It happened! It happened!

What is it?

It's anonymous.

Why did you never tell me about this child?

I wanted to spare you useless worries.

What's her name? --The little girl? Hildegard.

And her mother - you see her? --She died 3 weeks ago.

What did you do with Hildegard?

Anna had a governess friend in England.

I'm going to send her there.

Why did you tell Anna about this?

I didn't know who to turn to so I asked her.

Why Anna? Why involve her?

Because she loves you! I wanted to avoid upsetting you; I thought you'd understand.

But why Anna?

I suddenly realized that in wanting to spare her, I'd deeply hurt her.

I was furious with myself, and at this disgusting letter.

Who do you think wrote the letter?

I don't know - people are so envious.

You don't think your sister-in-law...?

Anna is a loyal person.

Were you in love with her?

The great love you spoke of, didn't it come when you met her?

Did your sister-in-law encourage these felings?

I tell you, Anna is absolutely virtuous.

Didn't you often meet her?

She came to see Elisabeth, and sometimes we talked about my daughter.

Your wife experienced a change of attitude toward her?

At first things stayed the same.

But your arguments became more and more frequent.

People talked - I couldn't help it.

You went out in the evenings; you joined the International Club.

You started gambling. --I needed money.

The university rector called you in;

You'd frequently been seen drunk by your students.

My wife nagged me continuously.

All I found at home was bitterness, complaints, even threats.

In other words, the presence of your wife had become intolerable.

No, no!

Call the witness Anna Jahn.

Your full name and address?

Anna Jahn, born in Zurich 15 January, 1917.

I live at 33 Marktgasse.

You must tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

Under Article 141 of the Penal Code you may refuse to testify...

...since the accused was the husband of your late sister.

I am at your disposal, Your Honor.

The Court sympathizes with your sorrow, and will endeavor to make this brief.

Thank you, Your Honor.

You have confirmed the statement you made at the time of the charge.

Yes, sir.

I would like to clarify one or two points.

The night of the crime, you were at your sister's house.

Were you visiting, or did you live with her?

I'd lived with my sister for some time.

I'd moved there at the suggestion of Mr. Waremme...

...after a painful scene he'd witnessed.

So you know Mr. Waremme?

I met him 3 years ago in Zurich during a performance for charity.

He'd given me some advice on a role I was playing, then I found him in Berne.

You said Mr. Waremme had witnessed a scene?

Yes, between my sister and me.

One night, returning to the room where I was staying...

...I found Elisabeth waiting for me.

I soon understood that her visit was not a friendly one.

What are you doing here?

May 18, 7:00 PM - "Now I know I possess an immortal soul"

That inscription doesn't mean what you think.

How long do you think you can carry on this sordid charade?

One of us has to give him up

Suit yourself, Elisabeth.

I won't let you have him - I hate you!

You're a thief! A thief!

What is this, Elisabeth? --What happened?

We came to get Anna to take her to a soiree.

Take her, then! Take her!

You see, my dear Maurizius, you shouldn't have let things go this far.

Dear, dear Elisabeth.

I consider your friendship as a inestimable privilege.

Don't take it away from me. Oh yes, I understand everything.

But it's in adversity that weapons of your calibre show themselves.

Defy the ill-wishers; face down the words of scoundrels and imbeciles.

You're stronger than they are!

I propose a solution: I'll take Leonard to my house.

I'll take care of him until he's himself again.

Meanwhile, Anna... now, now...

Anna will stay with you.

I can't bear the sight of her!

Anna deserves your affection.

I give you my word of honor that she's done nothing shameful.

So following Mr. Waremme's suggestion, you went to live with your sister.

How was your relationship with her at that time?

It hurt me to see how she tortured herself with imaginary suspicions.

What were your exact sentiments toward your brother-in-law?

I was touched Leonard's love. There as no doubt of his sincerity.

But I took it as the infatuation of a young man, and was sure it would pass.

Let's go back to the moments before the crime. Where were you?

I was looking after Elisabeth in her room.

She was having heart spasms, and was very ill.

Inquiries showed that the witness called Mr. Waremme.

Yes - Elisabeth had fallen asleep, and I'd gone downstairs.

I heard steps in the garden.

Through the window, I thought I saw a shadow.

I was afraid, and that's why I called Mr. Waremme.

The maid, Frieda, wasn't there?

She had gone to fetch some medicine.

Did Mr. Waremme respond at once to your call?

When I heard the gate open, I looked out the window.

It was Leonard.

At the same time, I heard a step on the stair, and the front door opened.

There was a shot. I ran outside...

...and found Elisabeth dead, a few feet from her husband.

So you didn't witness the crime?

No - I was between the window and the front door.

How does the witness explain how the victim, suffering from heart trouble...

...could run to the accused?

I object! The witness was not her sister's keeper.

She's not responsible for the other's actions.

When you saw the accused fire at his wife, where were you?

I was by the gate. I had just entered the garden.

You rushed to the accused and disarmed him.

I was afraid he'd turn the gun on himself.

What did you do with the gun? --I threw it away.

The gun has never been found.

You said that at first you did not recognize the accused.

He had shaved off his moustache and was wearing a coat you'd never seen.

That's correct.

What is your explanation for this transformation?

Didn't you have the impression that he was trying to hide his identity?

I'm sorry, Your Honor. My role is not to give opinions, but to report facts.

Please sign your testimony, Mr. Waremme.

Is there need for more proof of premeditation?

Once the crime was committed, the accused fled.

He hid for several days in a hotel room.

It was there that he was arrested, pale and trembling.

Everything points to his guilt!

His disguise, his concealment, his flight, his whole conduct...

Is there need for any further testimony?

Andergast, Leonard Maurizius never admitted his guilt.

Andergast, Anna did not see the crime.

There were shadows in the garden; what became of the gun?

Andergast, who was Waremme?

Your closing argument led to Leonard's conviction.

What did you base it on? The testimony of Waremme.

And if Waremme lied... If he lied... If he lied...

You said Edgar what? --Edgar Mohl.

Occupation? --I am secretary to a writer.

I'm searching for a rich uncle.

Breakfast at 7:30, lunch at 12:15, dinner 7:00.

Melita! My daughter will show you to your room.

Number 7.

Hello, Professor!

That gentleman with the black glasses. Isn't that Mr. Moulet?

No, no, that is Professor Warshauer.

A professor of languages.

Thank, you, dear Melisande.

Professor?

I'm going to be travelling to America. Could you give me some English lessons?

It's five francs an hour.

Three times a week?

Alright, Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday from 4 to 5. Is that good?

Fine.

What's your name? --Mohl, Edgar Mohl.

Very well then, Mr. Mohl.

Chief Prosecutor Wolf Andergast.

I was a deputy back when... --I know.

This is not an official visit.

Recent events made me revisit your case.

For personal considerations certain measures may be taken.

I never lost faith that eventually I'd be vindicated.

There's no question of vindication; the case was tried and the verdict stands.

One question dominates the others: suppose for a moment you're innocent.

You never fired the gun. Well then, who did?

A judge is obliged to demonstrate my guilt.

It's not up to me to prove my innocence, which is impossible and against reason.

If you think these arguments will influence me, you don't know me.

And you, Mr. Prosecutor, how well do you know me?

There's a portrait of me made 18 years ago that I can reproduce exactly.

It was drawn on the 14 December 1935 by you.

Do you remember?

Who is this man, members of the jury?

A victim of a society more worthy of pity than blame?

The victim of Fate?

One who experienced poverty and bad luck? No.

A man of high intelligence and refined culture...

...on whom Nature had bestowed her rarest gifts.

He possessed charms.

When he spoke, one listened and was captivated.

When he met an obstacle, he sought to overcome it.

For him nothing was out of reach or impossible.

In him the gift of utter facility became steadiness and responsibility.

His defence before the temptations of a corrupt era threatened by moral decay...

...was the pursuit of pleasure.

This thirst for pleasure permeated all the results of his labors.

Of all he became, all he acquired.

His reason, his heart, his idealism, his life.

It possessed him until he became insolvent.

First insolvent, then a murderer.

Before him was this morally superior woman.

Her presence constituted a tacit reproach.

This unhappy woman was fated to be injured by him.

In her body, in her social standing.

He would get rid of her, even if his hopeless material situation...

...didn't require this appalling solution.

Even if a mad, hopeless passion for her sister had not stripped him...

...of the final shred of sense and honor.

Words! All words!

Words that I brooded over night and day, day and night. For years!

Deceptive words, lying words.

When I was 20, Mr. Prosecutor...

A young boy, timid and gullible.

I remember, I fell in love with a prostitute.

I wanted to save her, redeem her.

She treated me abominably.

After a few episodes with her pimp and other men...

...she left me, disappointed and disillusioned.

I married Elisabeth because I esteemed her.

I respected her.

I understood it wasn't love until Anna appeared.

Then it was too late.

That's the real Leonard Maurizius.

Do you believe he resembles your portrait?

I'm concerned with facts, not feelings.

You thought I was guilty. You believed it.

But your hypothesis was wrong.

Then why did you remain silent during the investigation?

And during the trial? And for 18 years in prison?

Your prosecution was designed to crush me.

Only in silence could I preserve a fragment of human dignity.

The policeman who arrested me looked like a bulldog.

He got me out of bed, he forbade me to get dressed.

He rifled through my old clothes and my papers.

He examined my gold cigarette case and my stray belongings.

I passed that night going from one person to another.

And since then I've been stripped of one thing after another.

That! That! For 18 years!

One reason for keeping silent is to shield someone.

Perhaps your sister-in-law, Anna?

It could only be her.

Did you know that she married?

Why should she remain single?

They say that her marriage with Duvernon is happy.

Duvernon? It's possible.

Have you had any news of your natural daughter, Hildegard?

No, never.

After the trial I was supposed to send her to London...

...but I could never arrange it.

Circumstances made it impossible for me to take care of her.

Is she still alive? --I don't know.

I must go.

It's for you to say if there's any use in my returning.

The pharmacy told me to bathe the cut with this. And here are the bandages.

I'm very touched by your kindness and consideration.

I've told Mme. Bobiket over and over about that miserable nail.

So, your search is over? --What search?

Aren't you searching for a rich uncle?

Oh yes. Not yet. But I haven't given up.

And what will you be doing in America? --America?

First I'll get there, and after that I hope to make enough money...

...to buy some land, and live in freedom.

In freedom! Sweet enthusiasm of youth!

You're a strange little man, Mr. Mohl.

Mohl. Perhaps you had another name before?

Maybe I called myself Mohl the same way you called yourself Warshauer?

I said "maybe".

Maybe my name was Maurizius. Other people are called Maurizius - why not?

How long will you make me wait for an explanation, Mr. Mohl?

Mr. Who-Knows-What? What's the secret?

Yes, I'm Gregoire Waremme. So?

I'm just joking.

I said "Maurizius" because a few days ago I met an old man with that name.

His son is in prison, and he's devoted his life to proving him innocent.

Do you know him? He was here last year.

I don't think so.

It's true. You didn't see him, you were travelling.

What did he want?

Some letters that his son Leonard wrote to you in the past.

And others addressed to a young lady - Miss Anna Jahn.

He promised me a tidy sum if I could obtain them.

I don't have any letters.

No letters addressed to me or that young lady.

You've gone to all this trouble for nothing, young Mohl.

An aristocratic hand; a little gentleman.

Good family.

Come on - let's have some hot chocolate.

That'll give us a new outlook on things.

I like you a lot, my boy. Don't take it the wrong way.

Ask whatever you wish.

You'll learn more that way than with all this cloak and dagger stuff.

And by sniffing my heel.

You were Leonard Maurizius's friend?

Yes, I was his friend.

Yet our meeting ended up destroying us both.

Why? --You can't understand.

Now I'm an old failure. My name really is Warshauer.

I adopted Waremme to open the doors that were closed to me.

On the threshold of those doors was Leonard.

He had everything.

I was only an actor, trying to play a role.

Is that the reason for the hostility between you?

Did I mention hostility? --Was it because of Anna Jahn?

Miss... You're a very clever boy.

Do you think that Leonard Maurizius was guilty?

You're looking for your rich uncle in strange places, young man.

Do you think he was capable of murder?

I swore to his guilt under oath.

Enough! Let's drop the curtain on this charade.

I want you to tell me about Anna Jahn.

When did you first see her? Before you met Leonard or after?

I knew her before - in Zurich. She was 16.

Look at this old bear. He used to be the oracle of literary salons.

Words dropped like gold from his lips; people sought his opinion.

One day we were preparing a charity performance.

The author read his play - I was to direct.

That's when I saw Anna.

Her whole person had a troubling sheen - overwhelming.

In all my life I'd never seen a face like hers.

She personified all the seductiveness of this world into which I'd wormed myself.

I suddenly saw like a flash that I had to conquer this woman.

If I didn't, all my achievements would be worthless.

Without this victory, no triumph for me.

Suddenly, she was the most essential, primordial goal.

One moment she seemed to offer herself...

...and the next, she was inaccessible, mysterious.

She was hermetically sealed, like a nut in its shell.

Twenty times I grasped for her; twenty times she escaped me.

What happened?

She left Zurich for Paris after the performance.

I found her 2 years later in Berne - Maurizius's sister-in-law.

I think she suffered from an inferiority complex.

Leonard cured her when he entrusted his daughter to her.

From that day on, she was drawn to him.

They should have been able to enjoy a tranquil happiness...

...but Maurizius wasn't free.

And so arose this banal bourgeouis tragedy.

Is it true that after Leonard's conviction, you lived with Anna?

Yes, she'd lost everything, so she turned to me.

It lasted 2 years.

One night she left for Paris, and I for Berne.

It was over.

Why did you separate? Did something intolerable arise between you?

What? --I don't know; perhaps your oath?

What oath?

The oath before the court, that got rid of Leonard.

Get out! Out!

Gregoire Waremme - the investigation revolved a great deal around him.

Did Anna speak of her relationship with him?

Anna had a secretive, reserved nature.

When she moved to Berne, did she know he was there?

Yes, she knew he'd uncovered her trail.

What do you mean, her trail?

You mean he pursued her? --Yes.

She feared and loathed him.

But it would have been easy to avoid him.

No. --Why?

He had a hold over her.

A hold?

Oh come now! --It's true.

One day we were both coming back from the university.

He seemed nervous, irritable.

Leonard, give up Anna, she's mine.

She's been mine for 2 years.

After the charity performance in Zurich, she fell asleep in her dressing room.

She pushed me away, but in the depths of her soul, she was mine.

As she's mine today - as she always will be.

Give her up - I'm going to marry her.

Stunned, I rushed to Anna.

For the first time I sensed that she was ready to yield.

There's nothing between Waremme and me; nothing since Zurich.

There never was anything else.

Let's go away. Just say the word. We could start a new life together.

Nothing else matters to me.

It's impossible. --Why?

I can't live apart from him. --But why?

I don't know.

You love him?

No. I swear it!

What is it about this man?

Anna, I swear to you I'll break the ties that bind you; you won't be his anymore.

I'm not his!

Do you understand now? Waremme loved Anna!

He couldn't live without her, any more than I could.

She refused him, and he would do anything to have her.

He thought he would separate us, so he arranged for her to live Elisabeth.

I lost my head.

I decided to make her run away with me, but I had no money.

So I went to my father. --Yes, and he refused.

I telegraphed Anna, to try one last time to convince her...

...and if I failed, I'd disappear.

When you entered the garden, who did you see?

I saw Waremme!

He claimed he arrived after you.

He was there! He headed toward the house turned the corner and disappeared.

What to happened to your gun? --I didn't have one.

Waremme swore he saw you shoot. --But I didn't have a gun!

Why didn't you tell anyone? --I did!

Everyone figured it wasn't true because Waremme swore he saw me.

No believed me - especially you.

Your wife came out of the house.

She came out in front, and then there was a shot.

A shot that came from behind her.

She was shot in the back! --And you didn't see who fired?

I didn't see anything!

Your sister-in-law - did she have a gun?

Certainly not.

Waremme... he's a suspect.

He had no obvious motive.

Waremme got rid of you so he could have Anna.

Your Mr. Waremme will come back; he promised.

Don't be impatient...there.

Doesn't he have the most amazing eyes?

Oh, when he looks at me!

You're funny.

The other boys like to try and grab me.

It's because of my breasts, right?

Do you think I have nice breasts?

I don't know what I'm going to do.

Your mother gave me my bill, but I don't have any more money.

I have some savings.

If you give me a kiss, I'll lend it to you.

You don't want to?

You've got nothing to complain about!

Get out! --You're sick, my dear boy?

My poor boy, you thought you were stronger...

You hurled yourself against the walls...

...but they're crumbling now and will crush you.

I'll tell you the truth - mine - but I want yours.

One day, I met old man Maurizius; he spoke to me and opened my eyes.

His son's verdict was false!

It was judicial murder! I must clear his name, or it's not worth living!

Justice! Poor boy, why are you bothering about that?

Humanity doesn't give a damn about justice.

Where have you seen it?

In the poverty that crushes the child in a woman's belly?

In the purses of the rich, in the bodies of martyred boys?

In the girls in the gutter,

In the rantings of the mad,

In the lies of the priest?

In the bank vaults, in the concentration camps?

In the depths of the mines... where is Justice?

Justice is intolerance, Inquisition, fanaticism.

Justice is oppression, corruption.

Justice is sold to the highest bidder.

Poor little Mohl, you've wasted your energy and intelligence on a lost cause.

Who cares about Maurizius?

What difference does it make if he's in prison or free, guilty or innocent?

The world doesn't give a shit.

Leave me alone! You're a man - how can you say such things?

My poor boy.

My poor dear boy.

I want to know - who fired the shot?

Was it you? Was it Anna?

Was it someone else? Was it Anna, yes or no?

What do you think happened?

I was crazy about Anna; she was caught between the 3 of us:

Her sister hounded her, Leonard hounded her and I hounded her.

She didn't know which way to turn, and I feared the worst:

Elisabeth threatened to kill her, Leonard threatened to kill her.

So I gave her my gun to defend herself.

That night she received a telegram from Leonard.

He wanted a final meeting with her.

He set a meeting in the garden.

What is it? --Your husband - he's coming back.

And you - where were you? They said you were at your club.

No, I wasn't there. All the witnesses were wrong.

I was there in the afternoon...

...but towards evening I felt I'd been stupid to give Anna a gun.

She could use it to kill herself.

So I hurried to the house.

I hung about outside.

I knew by experience that when I bent all my thoughts on Anna...

...she'd be in my power.

Give me the International Club, it's urgent.

I want to speak to Mr. Waremme.

You don't know where he is?

Thank you.

It's your husband - he's here!

He's here for me!

You're not going to have him!

She let him be accused and convicted, and for 19 years did nothing?

How could she? --She obeyed me.

I didn't waste a moment; I had her.

Nobody in the world knows what I'm going to tell you.

You want the truth; here it is.

Anna loved Leonard madly, desperately.

From the first moment, with a furious passion her soul had never experienced.

And he never knew it, the poor idiot.

He doubted himself and kept begging, crying and moaning.

And she couldn't forgive the insane love she had for him;

she couldn't forgive herself.

That's why he had to be punished.

Your sworn testimony...

There was no other way; Leonard had to be sacrificed.

I had to have Anna.

I kept her...two years.

It's abominable! --That's Justice, young Mohl.

You horrify me!

Go home, young man, and don't worry about me.

The statue of limitations on my perjury ran out a long time ago.

I liked you a lot, young Mohl. I liked you a lot.

I am charged to inform you, on behalf of the Supreme Court...

...that clemency has been granted.

You are to be set free.

Free?

The freedom is conditional.

What conditions?

It's not specified.

So, on the slightest pretext I can be sent back to prison?

It's just a formality. If your conduct--

In other words, if I cause the Court any trouble...

...they have a way to take care of me.

Do you accept or not? If you sign, you'll be free by 8:00 tomorrow morning.

The Warden didn't send the telegram you gave him to send your father.

Why?

Oh, it was better not to know exactly when you'd be set free.

The papers would have made a big deal of it.

Go on; it's not exactly au revoir, is it? Good luck.

Go straight ahead on this road; the station is 3km away.

I knew that one day...

It's really you! Come in - what an expression!

Sit down. Now that you're here, you'll see.

You're going to be rich - I've hidden money - you'll see.

We have to have a drink.

I can't wait to see Elisabeth's face! That little slut!

Hey, let's go over there.

We'll ring the bell, she'll open it, and we'll spit.

We'll spit right on the front step!

My God, it's him! It's you, my poor boy!

Where have you been? What have you done?

Oh, look at you, you poor thing!

I'd like to take a bath.

Of course! Oh, you're as weak as a kitten!

Is my father here? --No, he's in court.

You'll be very surprised - he's changed a lot.

Something's not right; he's asked to retire.

I received your note.

I thought it would be better if we met on this boat - it's more anonymous.

I read in the papers you'd been set free; I expected you'd write.

Fortunately my husband doesn't read my letters.

You understand, we mustn't be seen together.

Don't get too close, people are looking.

Anna... --You have something to tell me?

I'm not strong enough to carry on this charade.

Let's not prolong this meeting; you know it won't do any good.

I went through harsh trials; now I've turned to God.

Prayer supported me, and I've found peace.

I have nothing in common with that Anna you knew.

All the same, I ask forgiveness for her.

But I'll always be in your debt, Anna.

What she did was for love of you.

If you'd loved me, everything could have been so different.

By day, she was torn apart by your absence.

She passed her nights weeping.

She could not bear to see you with another.

She killed Elisabeth because Elisabeth loved you, and because she loved you.

What? You killed her?

Didn't you know?

You killed her because you loved me?

It doesn't matter now; all that is dead.

Perhaps it was Waremme who gave the order; perhaps I only obeyed him.

Look out.

I understand. I'll leave you - I just want some information.

Where is my daughter? She's all I have.

I can give up everything else, but I must know about her.

I haven't had anything to do with Hildegard for years.

The responsibility was too heavy.

Where is she?

Your daughter was told that you'd left prison.

She asked her guardian to take her away for awhile.

She doesn't want to know you.

Hello, Papa.

So you're back?

You look terrible. --I've been ill.

Ill - that's not surprising.

Where have you been?

I left a note telling you why I had to go away.

I had a mission to fulfill and I did.

Maurizius is completely innocent.

He was falsely imprisoned - it was a miscarriage of justice.

Easy to say. When you have some proof we'll see.

I found Gregoire Waremme.

He confessed that he perjured himself, and I have a witness.

After that what should be done?

Nothing. --What do you mean?

There's nothing to be done. All your efforts were unnecessary.

Leonard Maurizius was granted clemency.

Clemency?

The rest of his sentence was commuted.

Clemency - but what if he proclaims his innocence?

The clemency decree prevents that possibility.

But if he's innocent he doesn't need clemency!

The victim must have his honor restored!

It's a matter of justice - the case must be reopened!

Reopen the case? You're mad.

You don't realize what that entails.

Enormous expense for the State; impugning the acts of upright citizens.

A dangerous situation; Justice exposed to damaging criticism.

It doesn't matter - I don't accept that!

Everyone has a right to justice!

This conversion is pointless. Leonard Maurizius accepted the clemency.

Accepted? --Without hesitation.

He continues to live; he alone must keep silence.

He carries the shame thrust upon him.

That's what you've brought him to.

How? Using what pressure?

Maybe he thanked you effusively for booting him out the prison door!

Thank you, sir, for all your kind attention!

Do you know who fired the shot?

Of course, you know! Where is the judge so I can spit in his face?

And me? What was my part in all this?

It's Andergast's son, they'll say.

The father arranged clemency for Maurizius after getting him condemned

And despised by all mankind.

The son didn't breathe a word about his scheming.

It's nice, neat and perfect!

That's enough, be quiet! --No matter what happens, he'll pay...

He has to pay!

I don't want to be your son anymore!

I'm not your son anymore! I'm not your son!

A doctor.

Forgive me.