Original subtitles

Salle Pleyel! Hurry up!

Chopin!

- Mr. Chopin has arrived. - You are wonderful.

Thank you.

Here comes the most gifted of my friends.

You're here! Is everything alright?

Yes.

- Fritz. - Good afternoon.

- Did you think I wouldn't come?

- You said that at large concerts the crowd doesn't listen. They only come to stare.

And that this is the last time.

This will be the last.

Attention!

Please get ready, we are starting.

Ladies and gentlemen,

for the first time in history the greatest pianists on earth

will play together variations on the march theme

from Vincenzo Bellini's "I Puritani". "Hexameron"!

- You'd gladly leave, wouldn't you? - No. Why?

Too many people. I play too quietly.

Close your eyes and play. 500 francs for a couple of minutes.

You don't have to look at them.

Franz Liszt!

I can make a living giving lessons.

And Frédéric Chopin!

And now…

let the music play!

Marquis is tearing his hair out.

He runs up to the fence, wanting to tear it down. He shouts:

"You vile bulldog! What happened?"

And the bulldog replies…

"I really don't know."

Mr. Frédéric.

Countess Potocka! Long live Poland.

We saw each other recently in Vienna at a concert. Do you remember?

How could I not remember?

No one has ever moved me so deeply.

And today as well.

You are certainly exaggerating, but you do it dazzlingly.

You are divine.

Your voice sounds better than all the sopranos in the world.

You are capable of awakening all my senses.

Typical Liszt. Excuse me, but my beautiful friend has a creature

between his legs, devoid of memory and consciousness,

but it feeds him most of his lines.

Wait!

The fairer sex is not widely represented among us.

I don't like it. Dear ladies...

What beauties!

I invite you to a reception.

I promise a delightful night.

You are invited!

- Fritz, good evening! - Company, march!

It's a fly.

A fly!

Alarm! Barbarian!

Devilish bohemia! How dare you chase me away…

you peasant!

Where is it?

- There! - No, there!

Fritz.

Now…

Is this…?

Could it be…?

Yes…

It is Eden.

The Garden of Eden.

God, how beautiful it is here!

The air is so sweet…

If this is heaven for the saved, I am ready to die this very day.

How good it feels…

Warmth and happiness…

I feel them with every one of my little paws.

Yea, though I walk…

through the valley of the shadow of death,

I will fear no evil!

Here I shall lay my eggs.

It bit me!

Good evening.

- I'll leave you two. - Thank you.

Thank you.

Fritz, we are leaving now.

Goodbye.

Terribly hot. Jaś, I'm suffocating from these herbs of yours.

Drink, I'm on duty at the hospital, I'll be late because of you.

Supposedly an excellent doctor.

Don't chatter, just drink.

I thought you were in a hurry, huh? Go already.

I'm finished. Are you satisfied?

I never am.

Thank you.

Not a drop more, that's it.

How many lessons do you have today?

Three. Five.

Seven.

You were supposed to work less. We talked about this.

But how can I work less if you've been paying my rent for three months already? I have to work.

Excuse me, sir!

The first voice is magnificent,

Mademoiselle Rothschild. You played with a very beautiful tone.

You always say that. It doesn't mean anything.

- It means everything. - May I play something else?

Please do.

No!

I studied this for two weeks.

I asked you not to play my compositions.

You are not ready.

It's not enough to just play the melody.

Dear Charlotte,

you are beautiful and you play like an angel.

But to me, it's agonizing. Do you understand?

At home, I ask you to practice in peace,

without rushing.

See you on Saturday.

Please give my regards to your parents.

Let's take a break, Miss Stirling.

Good, but you are rushing the tempo unnecessarily.

Too much unnecessary emotion.

Please, do not bite your lips.

And now let's play a fantasy... by Hummel.

By Hummel.

Please.

Let's take a break.

You need to emphasize the difference between these two fragments more strongly.

First, light and delicate,

then more connected, but with a crescendo.

Please, from the very beginning.

Where are we going?

- I keep telling you, it's a surprise. - But I don't like surprises.

I still need to know who the host is. I'll tell some stupid joke about a wife,

and it will turn out the poor fellow was widowed two months ago.

Don't worry. He's a bachelor.

A bachelor!

I didn't know the reception was being held in a hospital.

It's not exactly a reception, Fritz.

- No, I'm not going anywhere. - Fritz… You have to.

Find anything interesting?

Cough and spit, please.

Harder.

You have consumption.

You have consumption.

Coughing up blood indicates a perforation of the pleura,

and that is an advanced stage of the disease.

You have a few years left to live.

How many exactly?

Because a few is both two and nine.

I don't know.

Listen. I cannot cure you.

Today, no one in the world can cure you.

We can only alleviate the symptoms.

I will prescribe medications that will help you endure what is going to happen.

Happen?

Consumption develops in waves.

First, you will cough up blood.

Then there will be increasingly heavy bleeding,

lasting up to two weeks.

In between, there will be moments of relief.

But it is only an illusion that you are healthy.

Over time…

your whole body will weaken, but primarily your legs.

They will swell, especially towards the end.

Towards the end…

Do you have any children?

None that I know of.

If you feel such a need, you shouldn't delay.

Consumption weakens a man's virility.

Over time, you will experience impotence.

Ultimately, you will become sterile.

You need to get enough sleep and avoid crowds.

A simple cold could kill you.

It would be best to leave Paris.

Fresh air will slow down the progression of the disease.

And the sun.

Sun and more sun.

Alright.

I will go to the countryside

and I will take everything that you prescribe.

Thank you.

A friend told me your sister had tuberculosis.

Emilia. She was 15 when she died.

So you know what it looks like.

Not a word to anyone, understood?

His Highness is losing patience.

I know, I know.

Thank you.

Finally!

Your Highness, forgive my tardiness.

The traffic on the streets is terrible today.

Please, play. Everyone is waiting.

Thank you.

Chopin!

Your music is the most pleasant gift

I could have asked for on my birthday.

All the best.

How did you know I love this etude?

I am a king, I am not allowed to cry.

If my efforts bring pleasure to the king,

I wish for nothing more.

No need to be so pompous.

We like each other, after all.

Your music is beautiful.

I also have a gift for you.

A passport.

Your Highness.

Good evening.

I couldn't resist.

Congratulations.

Now you are a true Frenchman.

A French genius.

My subject.

From Poland.

With all due respect, Your Highness,

I left Poland, but Poland will never leave me.

Cholera!

Stay indoors!

Cholera! Stay indoors!

Where was I supposed to run?

Under a bridge, perhaps. Besides, I'm getting married in a month.

Congratulations. Do you love each other?

How do you imagine that?

I learned this for Vincent.

- Not bad, huh? - Bravo, Luisa!

It's strange that you didn't leave.

They say gravediggers jump on corpses to fit them into the pits.

Better close the window, or the infection will get in.

They say musicians are immune to cholera.

What a fool you are.

I completely agree.

The truth is, I like being alone.

You have more tailcoats than there is bed linen in the whole neighborhood.

Everyone loves you. And women even more so.

You love your work. You have a wonderful life.

You could be happy. It would be a pity if you died.

To whom?

To me.

Probably to yourself, too?

I'll bring the clean laundry the day after tomorrow.

Please, stay. I'll make some tea.

Tea? You don't know how.

Besides, my fiancé is waiting for me.

Goodbye.

Stop playing! Let people live!

Help.

Help me!

Save me! Help!

Get a doctor!

Stop yelling, Mr. Pianist!

This man is alive.

I'm coming.

We will help you.

There is a living person here!

He is alive! I just saw it!

We have to help him. What are you doing?

- Save him! - Save him yourself!

It's an hour's drive to the cemetery. I'm collecting corpses from two districts.

He'll be dead by the time I get there.

If you want to live — wear a mask.

I have a proposition for you.

Breakfast!

We've already eaten.

Son, what are you doing here?

- Ludwika! - Frycek! How?

Good morning, Father.

Good morning, son.

Where did you even come from?

It's a long story. I'm glad to see you, I missed you.

Come, come, come here,

sit down… Come to us… Come. What are you doing?

You haven't seen us for five years and suddenly you show up, son.

I'm not stupid. You're either sick, or something happened.

Nothing happened. I just missed you.

I miss you.

Are you alone there?

No, Mother. I have two thousand friends in Paris.

I am not alone.

You are alone. That is exactly why you need two thousand friends.

You need to start a family.

Excellent idea. I'll order one for myself as soon as I return to Paris.

Just two children? Or four?

A widow or a virgin? Virgins are much more expensive.

You need to start a family.

I tried. I really tried.

Do you prefer men?

No. That's not it. I don't know how to fall in love.

I don't feel anything.

I can't.

In the very beginning, I didn't love your father at all.

And now?

Of course I love him. Are you crazy?

But I had to learn this love.

You will learn too. Look around. Find someone

whom you simply like, respect.

I don't want to do it that way.

Music alone won't be enough for you.

You don't see it now because everyone admires you,

But you will see that it won't be enough.

It's not enough for a life.

But this is the only life I know.

It's a pity that since I was six, all you wanted was for me to play.

Nobody forced you anymore, you wanted it yourself.

Son. Everything will be alright, you'll see.

Departure for Paris!

You surprised us with your sudden visit.

Do you remember?

You played for us when you were 6, and then 10, and then 12.

- You're starting again. - And two years later, too. I remember all those concerts.

- Me too. Did you feel like I came home?

Well, then you have to play something now.

Mother, I beg you, let him finish eating.

Antoś, the lid.

Mother, you'll see, Marysia will kill you because we didn't wait for her.

I'm full. I can play.

Marysia doesn't know you've arrived.

Besides, her paints always come first for her.

She's standing out there in some field, painting.

Play, please.

My teeth hurt so terribly today.

Then I will play quieter.

Excuse me, but the clouds rolled in.

I had to wait for the sun.

Fryderyk?

The left one.

- No, give it to me, my turn. - No.

- Yes? - Yes.

Jesus!

Don't worry. My mother knows I've loved you since childhood.

Does she?

Do you remember the reception after your final exams?

Will you marry me?

What?

Will you marry me?

The light was best there, so we'll make a studio for Marysia there.

We just need to order canvases, easels, and paints.

Will you write it down?

The bride paints wonderfully.

The bedroom will be here. A bed, something tasteful from Pires,

with a canopy.

A perfect nursery!

One crib here, a second one here.

And maybe such little desks, tiny ones,

Like for dolls. It's magnificent.

You know, before these children grow up enough to use these desks,

Ten years will pass?

And I won't be around by then. What a memory — two little desks from Daddy?

- Wonderful. I'll take them. - Congratulations.

The price, Fritz.

- Exactly. - You didn't ask about the price.

Oh, right.

- What is the price? - Six thousand francs a year.

That is very reasonable.

We have a deal.

No, no. Are you crazy? You can barely make ends meet every month as it is.

You... You just need to get married, Fritz.

Have you ever been in love? Probably not.

Excuse me, has Chopin arrived yet?

Chopin?

- Which one is that? - The one with the big nose.

That Pole?

Poor fellow!

No homeland, no family, no money,

he's probably starving.

Has anyone seen a starving man wearing 30-franc gloves?

Besides, why the hell did he insult the Tsar?

He asked for it himself, to be banished from Poland!

Narcissist. He only loves himself.

Your attention, please.

Ladies and gentlemen,

Baron James de Rothschild with his wife

and daughter, Charlotte.

Recently, after your concert, I couldn't eat or sleep

for at least a week.

May I invite you for tea?

You stopped playing Erard's pianos, and they immediately dropped in price.

- Erard is devastated. - I apologize.

Excuse me, sir?

Are you feeling alright?

Fritz!

Are you enjoying yourself?

I'm going to play.

What are you doing?

Maestro, not now.

Please do not give me orders.

- Baron. - Yes?

- What should I play for you? - Please improvise…

- Napoleon at Waterloo. - Excellent.

Excuse me.

Rumor has it Napoleon was napping during Wellington's attack.

Retreat!

Retreat!

Play some Chopin already.

Monsieur Chopin.

With gratitude from the Baron.

Thank you.

- The lesson! - We canceled everyone. - What do you mean, everyone?

- Are you crazy? - Calm down.

You had urgent family matters. You had to leave Paris for a few weeks.

Lie down. Rest.

Your bath is ready.

- What's going on here? - Fritz.

You slept for five days. What, did you want to kill yourself?

For a month now, you've been coming home at dawn. Or maybe you're scared? Maybe he's afraid of the wedding?

And do you know that in the last month I earned more than in the entire previous year?

At what cost? You don't have to act like a performing monkey at receptions until morning.

You hate these people.

- Maybe I like them? - You don't.

- Take this. - What is it? - Opium.

You haven't taken this yet. It relieves pain, because it thins the secretions in your bronchi.

- The body of Christ… - Take it.

- Fritz… - Uh… I'm going to take a bath.

Fritz! Mother of God...

Who are you?

The Mother Superior is nervous, I see.

Stop fooling around. I'm moving in with Karolina.

Because I finally want to live with my wife. Because I have a wife.

It's just that sometimes I forget about it because of you.

Let someone else carry you upstairs.

Let someone else give you your medicine.

A genius? And instead of medicine, you need words of adoration?

Find yourself another court physician.

- Let him deal with his music… - Jaś!

I'm sorry.

So I haven't played for 5 days.

Good afternoon.

Pierre!

Mr. Chopin?

- Good afternoon. - I beg you, tell me

that you still have sorbet.

I've been dreaming of it for ages.

- Peach and pear? - No.

Lemon.

Of course.

Lemon sorbet.

I am dead.

An idiotic mistake.

Mr. Chopin is dead.

He is dead.

Touch him.

Go ahead!

Maybe I'm a ghost?

Enjoy.

Behold, I have resurrected and I will eat sorbet.

When I pick them up from the station, there will be a private dinner.

She, me, and her mother.

But we'll visit you, I promise. They are dying to meet you.

Everything is ready.

Is Mother Wodzińska just as fantastic?

Do you know how to say "mother-in-law" in Italian?

How is it with children?

With children?

If they take after you, they'll be terribly sad.

Come.

I'll play something for you.

My father bred rabbits.

They aren't much different from children.

They eat, shit, and sleep.

And you can cuddle them.

Now listen.

I have something like this running through my head.

What do you think?

Do you need a hammer?

As for children, since they're the only thing you're interested in:

it's the easiest love in the world.

It never ends.

You love the children,

they love you, and everyone is happy.

Is this new?

Yes.

What have you written?

You're crazy.

- Is this a joke? - My new scherzo.

Can't you write a normal accompaniment?

Instead you just scatter the notes,

so that I break my fingers?

I don't scatter them, I arrange them.

Listen.

- It's them. - I'll leave through the kitchen.

I'll learn it.

It's not finished!

Don't worry, I'll return it.

Mrs. Teresa, where is Marysia?

May I come in?

What happened?

No. Nothing happened.

You can't even imagine how happy I was when it turned out that what

they wrote in the papers — wasn't true.

There, for you. Well, aren't you curious to see what it is?

Where is she?

In Roztocze. At the Skarbek estate.

A month ago, Maria got married. To Józef Skarbek.

I wanted to tell you this.

In person. Just look how beautiful and warm they are.

Maria embroidered them herself.

But we… we were writing to each other.

We love each other. I love her.

It's not her fault. I am sorry.

I warned you. Our family…

My daughter needs a strong and healthy husband.

Beautiful apartment. Farewell.

- What did he say? - Whining about Poland again.

Over here!

We are waiting!

Jaś, come here!

Good afternoon. Will you allow me to steal Jaś from you?

Beautiful, aren't they?

White suede.

They get dirty quickly.

And they are too expensive. I have a family to support.

Don't be so practical.

I'll take 30 pairs, please.

And what do you think?

I will take three bottles.

Four. Or five.

- And this too. - Hurry up, Fritz.

And this.

No, Fritz!

Julian, get up. This one will be for you.

You will look like a human being.

Magnificent, isn't it?

What is it?

You don't know?

No.

Me neither.

But I need it.

Five Rue Tronchet.

They have violets already!

Watch out!

Move it, you idiot! Do you have a death wish?

Liszt is better at this than you are.

- I'm sorry. - I've had worse.

- Very funny. - That was magnificent.

- Why are you so sad? - Me?

I admire you.

It must be terribly exhausting.

- What exactly? - This constant pretending.

You'd prefer to be left alone, wouldn't you?

Excuse me.

Who is that shrew over there?

Her? George Sand. An excellent writer. You simply must know her.

- Kick everyone out, okay? - Are you joking?

No, I'm not joking. I need to get some sleep.

Quiet!

Ladies and gentlemen, excuse me, the party is over.

Frédéric has asked that I not keep you.

Therefore, I won't keep you.

Finally, we can talk in peace.

Would you like a drink?

The sun shines all year round in Mallorca.

You can pick oranges from the trees like apples.

It will be the most beautiful winter of your life.

I'll be dying again.

No.

You will get well, you'll see.

You smell entirely of violets.

You were right.

Adam and Eve have reached paradise.

Let's look for the apple tree and the snake.

Can we sail away to Africa?

We might not even return from there.

- Are you missing something? - Money.

You can write anywhere and send your pieces to publishers.

I need an instrument.

It will be here any day now.

I earn my living mostly from lessons

and receptions.

I see.

What do you see?

That you cannot live without Paris.

Without your beloved concerts, without the audience,

that cannot focus on the music for more than a minute…

but claps as long as the press calls you a genius.

You are right.

It would be a pity to lose that.

We are going back.

Alright.

To hell with Paris.

- To hell with Paris? - Fuck Paris.

- Fuck Paris? - Fuck Paris!

Mr. Chopin?

Yes?

On behalf of Her Majesty the Queen of Spain

and the City Council, I ask you to leave our city.

Is this some kind of performance?

Those are our rules.

I have been informed that Mr. Chopin has consumption.

In Spain, consumption is treated like the plague.

It is a threat to society. I ask you to leave the city.

Is that understood?

- What is he saying? - They want to throw us out of here.

You may settle five miles away from populated areas, no closer.

Have a good day.

What nonsense.

Consumption is a hereditary disease!

Morons!

Do you know what this means?

You cannot catch it!

Stop it!

Stop it!

Thank you.

We have the key! It's an abandoned monastery,

but we have a place to stay.

We will be alone, you and me.

And probably a couple of confessionals.

I'm soaked through.

How quiet.

How quiet!

What a story.

I would like to die in your arms.

I promise.

I love you.

Eventually the rain will stop, and you will get better.

I love it when it rains and it's cold.

You are somewhere else. What's the matter?

Everything is fine.

Frédéric…

I cannot live without music.

You feel sorry for yourself.

This way, please.

This way.

For God's sake, be careful.

Careful!

Slowly.

Careful.

No way.

- They refused. - We'll pay whatever they want.

I told them.

He has to leave here.

Think of something.

Please.

We're stuck.

My love, this will be over soon.

Captain, sir…

- Is that the contagious one? - He has bronchitis.

This is Frédéric Chopin.

So what?

I will pay 500 francs.

Per person.

No! Sit down!

I'm suffocating.

I shouldn't exist.

I should never have existed.

You should have left me and lived.

I give up.

You left the keys!

Excuse me,

I think I left my heart with you.

Sorry, I fried it with eggs.

Take your medicine and wash it down well.

Of course.

Mr. Chopin?

Sir! Mr. Matuszyński is asking for you.

We must hurry.

This is your fault. You infected him.

And mine, for letting him live with you.

I was always alone here.

He was at your beck and call the moment you had a problem.

A cough, diarrhea

or when you couldn't iron a shirt.

We couldn't go on vacation.

You stole my family from me. The children I will never have.

Because Frédéric required care.

Because who else would carry him up the stairs?

He got nothing from you but consumption.

No one gets anything from you.

Only death.

- May I play something? - No.

Have you heard how the Marquis went to the dog races?

Well, listen. The Marquis is looking at all these magnificent greyhounds.

And he doesn't know which one to choose, because he's down to his last 100 francs.

And suddenly an old bulldog comes up to the fence.

"Hey, sir, bet on me."

"I'll win, I'm telling you." "Uhh, bulldog?"

"You're a bulldog? Are you crazy?"

"You don't stand a chance!" "I've never lost yet!"

"Look at the payout for my win. If you bet a hundred francs on one of these favorites,

you might win a hundred and forty. If you bet on me,

you'll win a hundred thousand. You'll be obscenely rich."

The Marquis… did the math. And placed the bet.

The revolver fired.

And the dogs bolted, or rather the greyhounds did, because our bulldog...

is just trotting along without overexerting himself.

"Uhh, bulldog? What's going on?

Why so slow?"

"Relax, you'll see right before the finish line."

They entered the final turn. One greyhound crosses the finish line,

the second greyhound crosses the finish line, the third greyhound crosses the finish line.

"Monsieur bulldog? Bulldog! You damn dog! What happened?"

"I really don't know."

Good afternoon. I'm Carl Filtsch.

I want to become your student.

Excellent,

but I don't teach children.

Sent by Mr. Liszt.

"Better kill him on the spot.

He plays so well that in 10 years

we'll both be out of a job."

I have no free time.

And what, do you want to sing?

This is my brother, Joseph. He doesn't speak, but he hears.

Excuse me.

No!

Don't show off.

Do you want to start your training with my pieces?

Play something else.

I have no sheet music.

Can't you play anything else?

Not as well.

Not as well…

Pity.

Oh well.

That is all.

May I play my own composition?

Please do.

That's enough.

How long have you been playing?

Good.

Let's try…

this.

The left hand is good. But with the right you play mechanically, instead of singing.

The metronome is for the left hand. It builds the foundation.

The right hand moves freely.

Once more.

That's not it.

Either you play like an automaton, or you lose control.

Try to divide your attention.

The left hand is a constant, the right hand tells a story.

I'm sorry, I will practice more.

Don't play on the keyboard.

Play in your head.

Try not to hear. Like Beethoven.

Imagination is better than execution.

Peace of mind.

Only the mind works.

Close your eyes.

Exactly like that, Carl!

Thank you.

You need to eat more.

Yes.

Does it bother you that they eat with us?

Why? We waste a lot of food anyway.

Could you be a little quieter?

He is here because we have a lesson today.

Like every day.

- Is that a problem? - No.

Why?

I asked you: do not smoke at the table.

I'm sorry.

Bravo. Magnificent, as always.

I would like to introduce to Your Highness

an extraordinary pianist and composer.

No one in the world plays like this.

Except for me.

- And why not? - Thank you.

Don't be shy.

I didn't know you had a son.

He is not my son, he is my student.

Carl Filtsch from Transylvania.

But he could be a son. He has talent.

He is better than me.

I never thought I would say that about anyone.

Your Highness,

I ask you to remember him.

Even when I am gone.

Gone?

Are you going somewhere?

They say the people want to overthrow me,

even though I shamelessly flatter them.

Do you hear that awful Marseillaise?

I allowed it to be sung in my palace!

I, too, will probably have to flee.

I will leave, like your teacher.

Or they will kill me.

Then all of Paris will be yours, my boy.

- The Duke de la Baume has arrived. - Let's go, my dear.

Where are you going?

Today I smell of violets.

Do you remember?

George…

You know there is going to be a revolution.

We will be swept away. Do you understand?

I don't care about the revolution.

I am tired.

Rest. I have plenty of time.

You only have no strength for me.

It disgusts me to even say this.

I am pathetic.

I just need intimacy.

I haven't been a man for a long time.

- You knew it would be like this. - You can love without penetration, too.

It's not about the body.

You don't want me.

I am only supposed to be a mother to Carl.

Stop it!

For years I have put up with the fact

that the most important things to you…

are your illness and your music.

I learned to lose to both of them.

And now I have to lose to a little boy?

Lose?

- It's not a competition. - You are always pretending.

There is nothing genuine in you.

You pretend you're not afraid of death.

But look at yourself, you are already a corpse.

You are only pretending to live.

You are right.

I am causing you pain.

I don't love you.

And I never did.

I thought I did.

It was an illusion.

That is my curse.

Forgive me.

I forgive you.

And I thank you.

I will be left with a beautiful memory…

of my love for you.

I feel sorry for you.

I adore this piece.

- What happened? - I went out with wet hair.

Now play this, smartass.

They say you will die soon.

And that Liszt is more talented than me.

Don't believe everything people say.

I don't want you to die.

You need sun and more sleep.

And please, take your medicine.

That is all.

You said the exact same thing a couple of years ago.

With all due respect, professor,

perhaps there are new methods?

With all due respect, maestro, I will be in Paris in seven months.

If you don't change your lifestyle, I will visit you at the cemetery.

Have you heard of heat therapy?

Good Lord.

You…

such a cultured man, believe in such superstitions?

Do you know you can die from that?

I heard it helps.

The illness comes out with the sweat. It cleanses the body.

And you prescribe me sun.

I don't know if there's much of a difference.

I know you are afraid.

Excuse me.

Sir! There is a line here!

It hurts because you don't believe in it.

I do.

You patients never believe,

yet you come.

I understand that. Doctors deceive you all the time.

But here there is no magic, no deception.

Disease-causing miasmas, which form pus in the body,

will rush to this spot as their host.

From your lungs, they will migrate into this wound.

Then…

Excuse me.

…we will remove the string,

disinfect the wound,

and you will be young, beautiful, and healthy again.

The human body is a very simple mechanism.

Thank you.

Good Frédéric, my friend.

Julek!

- A gift from New York. - Thank you. Do you see?

I see. Leeches.

They say the legs swell towards the end.

What are you talking about, Fritz? What end?

That's what the doctors say. I've tried everything.

It does nothing. And I would like to live like this for at least another year.

- Although… - Only America.

They love pianists there.

I played 30 concerts.

Do you know how much I earned there?

I didn't tell you. Well, and above all,

the doctors there, Fritz.

I've been to a hundred doctors.

And they all say that I'm dead, dying, or about to die.

Because they won't help you here. Everything here is at a standstill, and has been for years.

But there... Everything is different there.

In America, they will find a cure for any disease.

Do they cure consumption too?

No, not consumption. They cut it out.

Then they will help you. It's just that...

you need to sail there.

There will be hundreds of people there whom you despise.

They pay 50 francs for a ticket.

I need money for America.

We'll buy a wooden house there.

A big one, with a huge garden.

Carl and Joseph will take the top floor, and I'll take the bottom.

With a garden?

America is the future.

Two more concerts, and I won't be seen here again.

We leave after Carl returns from Venice.

- Are you sure? - Yes.

I'm sure.

Consumption isn't contagious, you know that.

Don't blame yourself.

Let's go.

Frédéric!

You could have opened the door when someone knocks!

I know I can't help you.

But you don't have to play today.

Are there a lot of people?

Yes. It's packed.

I will play in your place so they don't get angry.

You can thank me someday.

They will understand.

I want to play.

Don't shed tears over me.

I don't need this.

It's just playing.

Just playing.

We're here.

Thank you.

Have a good day.

Maestro…

Good afternoon.

It's me, Jane Stirling. Your student.

I would like to take a few lessons. I've forgotten everything.

I have to refuse.

I don't teach anymore.

You stopped attending receptions.

I am very busy.

You don't give concerts, you don't teach...

I have money. I will take care of you.

The whole world admires you. It's no surprise that I do, too.

But I love you more than the others.

For many years now.

More than anyone.

So please, become my husband.

- Please, don't talk nonsense. - I love you.

I will take care of you.

Pity…

is the cruelest thing you can give a person.

It's not pity, it's love.

- You are everything I dream of… - I am not talking about you.

I am talking about myself.

Farewell.

So, how is it?

I've been writing this for two months. What do you think?

Is it bad?

Fritz,

it's excellent.

What kind of form is this?

None and several at once. Sonata, polonaise…

A polonaise?

It's more of a fantasy.

Well, yes.

Maybe someday, in a hundred years…

people will understand this music.

But today they will say that it isn't music.

That there are no themes, no form.

A polonaise, you say. No one will see it in this.

My friend, since you write such things,

couldn't you compose a few simple waltzes?

You could play them in small salons and make a living from that.

I don't want that anymore.

And what will you live on?

I don't want to waste time.

I finally realized.

I don't read books, I don't buy newspapers,

I don't want to go out.

I no longer have to put on an act, smile insincerely, or suck up,

spout nonsense,

pretend that I care about what is said to me and about me.

I will die soon.

And finally, I feel free.

I feel good.

I compose as I please, and I like what I create.

For the first time.

I want to finish this piece and maybe one or two more.

As many as I have time for.

Nothing more.

I understand.

See you at your funeral.

I remember…

when I was little,

I used to run in the garden with my sister.

And, as usual, I started coughing.

I stopped for a moment.

My mother comes out onto the porch

carrying herbs.

I don't like them, but I drink them.

And I see sadness in her eyes.

I don't understand it. I just don't have the strength to run.

I go inside the house,

sit at the piano and start to play.

And while playing, I am running again.

I jump, I laugh.

I play…

and I don't cough.

You know, no one will ever play your music the way you would want them to.

Just go.

Rejoice, my friend!

It's a new world. No king,

no bourgeoisie, no aristocracy. The end of poverty. Long live freedom!

- Do you need anything? - No.

I'm glad you came.

I finally have a sunny apartment.

It's cheerful in here.

Fritz, I'll tell everyone to leave.

Let them stay. It doesn't bother me.

Either you would have broken my heart, found yourself someone younger,

And then left me.

Or I would have broken yours. And then you would have jumped into the Seine out of despair.

Out of the question. I am afraid of water.

Fritz? This isn't the one, is it?

- Burn it. - Have you completely lost your mind?

- Burn it. - Fritz, these are finished works.

I beg you, please do it.

Everything I wanted to say is with the publishers. I don't want

anything else to remain.

I won't do it. No way.

George promised that I would die in her arms,

and she didn't come. It doesn't matter.

Could you hold me?

When I die, take out my heart.

Why?

So that I don't wake up in the grave.

And take it to Warsaw.

Alright.

That is all.