All language subtitles for B&B&B

Milord, time is short.
Leave now, I beg you.

You'll be arrested.

Fetch some candles.

I'll be working late.

And my usual glass of wine.

This world had to change.

But the revolution is sweeping the land

and now it's my turn
to be swept aside.

Old prejudices make men blind...

drive them mad...

devour his heart
and turn him into a Beast.

In the year 1764,

the Beast reached our soil,
and made it hers.

A year later, her fame had spread
beyond the borders of our province,

and it seemed no mortal
would ever overcome her.

The Beast's assaults

slowly sank
the region of Gévaudan into darkness.

Who goes there?

What's he done?

- What?
- He's a thief.

- And her?
- His daughter.

Damned witch!

I healed their horses; they owe me.

Don't listen. All liars!

—Did he heal the horses?
—Yes.

Begone!

Welcome to the land of the Beast!
Beware of wolf traps!

Sir Grégoire de Fronsac,

and the man they called Mani,
were neither hunters nor soldiers.

Naturalist at King's Garden,

Paris knew Fronsac as a libertine

and a fine wit.

The man who shadowed him

was a mysterious foreigner.

At nightfall, the travelers arrived

at the castle of Marquis d'Apcher
their protector

in Gévaudan
for the duration of their mission.

Our people fear no ordinary wolf.
The Beast is different.

She flees men
as if she knew to fear them,

yet spares no woman or child.

Have you ever seen it?

How do you know
it's just one animal?

The survivors all say the same.
She's bigger than a wolf,

and has no fear of firearms.

I understand your skepticism.

I don't believe in dragons either.

I've had a report drawn up,

a memoir of the Beast's crimes.

Judge for yourself.

You battled the English in New France?

Yes, I went to study
animals and nature.

I returned with wounds
and a Captain's rank.

I've organized a hospital

for victims of the Beast.
In an old priory.

A woman from Lorcière.

On her way from the fair,
the Beast attacked.

Two men saved her, the Beast fled.
But took half her face.

Tell me, how is M. Buffon?

And how fares Paris?

And L'lngenu? Have you read it?

It's a bit late
to discuss philosophy.

Quite right. Let's speak of theater.

Do you know any actresses?
What's in the theater this winter?

Put it there.

A gallant lot, it's said.
I've read some offer their charms.

Do tell me.

Here, to satisfy your curiosity.

The Mercure de France!
We only get the Courrier d'Avignon.

- I'll show you the common room.
- He'll stay here.

Very well. Good night, sir.

Not Versailles, but the wine's good.

It's big as a cow.

Jacques says he's seen many wolves.

This is not a wolf. It has
a longer snout, teeth with knives.

If not a wolf, what was it then?

A demon.

Chevalier!

The Beast has struck near St. Alban.

There.

There's no one there.

Halt!

What are those bastards doing here?

Good day, Captain.

Good day, Marquis.
My respects.

Beware. There are traps.

Duhamel, Sir Gre'goire De Fronsac

of the King's Gardens.

He'd like to examine her body.
With your permission, of course.

The one who brutalized my men?

- Had I known you ordered...
- I did not.

You did well, and I beg your pardon.

They're soldiers.
Trained for war, not hunting.

Careful, she's stuffed with poison.

What sort of gardener are you?

When the Beast is killed,
His Majesty wants it studied

in Paris.

I'll keep it after it's captured.

I'm having a look.

With that jaw,
it must weigh 500 pounds.

This time, I'll get it.

Before the snows.

It can't get away.

- Ever seen it?
- Once.

Once, in my musket sight.
I wounded her,

my word on it.
She collapsed, then at once revived.

We lost her near Mount Mouchet,
vanished in the wood.

Did it look like this?

She had a black stripe
and spike on her back.

My friends,

this is the sketch artist,

Sir Gre'goire De Fronsac,

a man of Providence indeed,
come from Paris to...

sketch the Beast.

His Eminence, Bishop of Mende,

the Duke De Moncan,

the Count De Morangias,

and Madame the Countess,

and their son Jean-François

who's also traveled.

- A clever hand, sir.
- Thank you, sir.

M. Laffont,

our Intendent.

Father Henri Sardis,

of St. Alban's.

Tell us, sir, is there talk
of the Beast in Paris?

- They've written ballads.
- Prayers would do better!

Does Capt. Duhamel so need God?

Don't we all?

Duhamel's just dresses
his men as women

to bait the Beast.

He's doing what he can.

Such indulgence.

Duhamel is incompetent.

His hunts exhaust the people,
his ruffians devastate our land,

and the Beast goes free.

If Duhamel is all I get
for paying my taxes to Paris,

I'd rather give it to my valets.

What do you say, sir?

You're not obliged to reply.

His Lordship likes to argue,
but he's a good Christian.

When you arrived, this assembly

was talking my ears off
with God this and God that.

It's said the Pope
sent a spy to see

if the Beast is
a manifestation of the Devil.

Pardon me.

Marianne De Morangias.
A daunting task indeed.

Must have a loose screw.

- Who's that coming undone?
- Des Forêts, a playwright.

- Then it's simple.
- Careful, she's a Morangias.

Sir, we were conferring...

—M. Des Forêts?
—Himself.

An honor. Good writers are rare.

Marquis D'Apcher spoke of you.

He thought of you for his memoirs.

Really?

He's in good spirits.
But have some finesse.

Wait 'til he broaches the subject.

Excuse me.

- Have you no shame?
- None.

Does the naturalist
like our country?

I've only so far glimpsed
its beauties - or one of them.

Is such the talk of court?

No, this is a couplet
reserved for provincials.

I might go to court
if there were ladies like you.

Dinner is served. Let's go in.

Whither thou goest...

In sailing up the St. Lawrence
we found in our nets

the strangest animal
I'd ever seen.

I'd heard of the
native's sacred fish,

but I was sure it was a legend.

I was looking at a fish,
the shape and size of a trout,

but which was entirely covered
in a rich black fur.

A furry trout? Surely you jest.

No, sir.

Salmo Truta Dermopilla.

from Canada.

Soft as mink.

- Nature is extraordinary.
- The water must be cold.

Which proves the impossible
may be possible.

Well said.

It surely won you the King's favor.

I doubt he deserves it.

Though I do recognize
your talent for acting.

Had I two hands, I'd applaud.

- Please pardon him.
- Your son is right.

This animal doesn't exist.

My taxidermist is a clever man.

Please excuse the prank.

Should this fable convince us
there is no Beast?

That we're simpletons?

The moral of the fable

is that dragons and unicorns
only appear in fables.

Lies appear true dressed in Latin.

Careful, sir. We may lose
all sense of what you're saying.

Indeed, are you a naturalist
or a philosopher?

Or worse - an actor!

I believe the knight
is mostly Parisian.

Enough talk of the Beast
which prays on peasants.

How about a guessing game?
Charades?

I've just composed a lover's lament.
May I, Countess?

- If it isn't licentious?
- Oh no.

It's very chaste and pure.

It's a improvisation,
it's called...

"Wolves Howl".

I went not warily.

Though I bore no malice, verily,

Your sly eye caught my heart
in its prowl!

I howl!

Shall I see you soon?

Another tall tale to amaze me?

You seem set in your idea of me.
Allow me to change your mind.

Try.

- Coming to the hunt?
- Certainly.

I can't allow it. Too dangerous.

Obedience is the virtue
of well-born girls.

This young man is right.

There was, that day in Gévaudan,

the greatest hunt ever in France.

The King offered 6,000 pounds
bounty for the Beast.

Thousands of enlisted peasants,
swordsmen and soldiers,

but also every hunter
and adventurer in the region.

For a few hours,

we forgot we were the hunted.

You each have a map and a location.
Movements begin at seven.

Thank you.

You might well thank us!
My people have better things to do.

Your generosity rivals your courage.

Enough. For your sake,
we'd better take her.

We shall, your Lordship.

What is this ruckus?

Fine weapon, isn't it?

I had it made in Mende,
after a campaign.

Custom-made for me, of course.

Look. Even in Paris
you'll never see such a bullet.

I make them myself.

Silver? Afraid of werewolves?

I like to sign my shots.

I'm a hunter, Fronsac.
And it's cost me dearly.

How did it happen?

I learned the hard way that one bullet
won't always suffice.

And, Sardis notwithstanding,
prayer won't cure gangrene.

- Did a bear injure you?
- A lion.

Yes, two years in the Navy,
I traveled a lot.

Do you know Africa?

My lords, my daughter caused all this.

Here. Punish her as you will.

Witch!

She's a daughter of the Devil!

—A demon's got her!
—She's ill. She's ill.

She's not possessed!

Burn her!

She mustn't swallow her tongue.
She'd suffocate.

She's not possessed.

I know.

Naturalist, philosopher
and a bonesetter as well?

She didn't show. I won the bet.

Marquis.

And the natives?

Superstitious brutes, like here.

Indian hunters eat the hearts
of their pray, for strength.

Are they brutes then?

In Africa, it's their enemies' hearts.

My lord Count, Jean-François,

You must move east...

There you are.

Your mother will be worried.

She always is.
If I listened, I'd be in a convent.

I know you don't believe. A libertine.

- Not when I'm in love.
- You're in love?

Ridiculous. We've hardly met.

You thought I meant you?

She must learn to ride like a lady.

No harm in a little exercise.

- My father sees no evil.
- My son sees but that.

People died... here.

How do you know?

I hear their cries.

Mani, stop it.

He's right.
This was a Templar stronghold.

25 heretics were burned alive
in the chapel.

- Is he a seer?
- No need to be.

You need but look.

My brother and I played here.

Were you not afraid?

He protected me from ghosts.

- No taste for the hunt?
- That a crime here?

For Indians,
a portrait steals the soul.

My soul, too, interests you?

On foot at a hunt!?

- My fault.
- I didn't ask you.

- What possessed you?
- It's only a wolf.

- If it were the Beast?
- I don't think so.

Pray the Beast is one of these wolves.

These won't devour anyone now.

Curious fellow.

- Where did you find him?
- New France.

Is he... an Acadian?

An Indian. A Mohawk Iroquois.

An Indian? A real one?

He doesn't look it.

Come to St. Alban tonight.
We'll have fun with your valet.

- He's not my valet.
- What then?

He's my brother.

Really! Mixing your blood

with that of a savage?

No savage shares one's hardship.

Mani saved me from the English
at Trois Rivières.

I thought the savages were cannibals.

As you can see, sir,

Mani is no animal.

Can you reproduce
with a woman of our race?

All women are the same color,
when candles blow out.

Yes, father, they even have wit.

Indians and whites have had children.

- We're one species.
- Don't speak too soon.

A little like the Negro.

What say you, Sardis?

Your "blood brother" is God's child.

- Baptized him?
- He hasn't asked.

You are a man of your times.

Mani has his beliefs.

At home, he was a sort of...
a sort of priest.

If they have priests, they're doomed.

What are these beliefs?

Each man has an animal spirit,
called a totem.

Amusing. How's it work?

Would you?

Never fear, it won't hurt.

Caribou.

A sort of stag.

What says my wife?

Am I a stag in every sense,
or only on an animal level?

And my dear Thomas. What's his... totem?

Worm. Bookworm probably.

Snake.

For Indians,
the snake embodies wisdom.

And our Intendent?

Boar.

Lighten your spirit.

For these barbarians
the pig is perhaps nobility.

Who's next? Sardis?

And me?

What am I, a semi-lion?

Half an eagle?

Make me lizard,
that my arm may grow back.

Jean-François, enough.

What? Have I been gauche?

Let me be.

Mademoiselle? Your turn?

Pardon me,
but I'm weary of your tricks.

I'll retire before you begin
juggling or dancing on a ball.

Good night.

It'll cheer you, Fronsac.

It's the best house in Mende.
You'll sleep better than at the Inn.

They're all for you.
And the new girl is very...

Dear little Marquis.

Come.

I'm expensive, Gre'goire De Fronsac.

Do you know me?

From here, Gévaudan seems tiny.

Italian?

Just passing through.

I have money.

It's not only a matter of money.

What then?

Who did that to you?

An Iroquois arrow.

Not far from the heart.

I may be... a lucky man.

And that?

A bear.

He didn't care much for me.

You haven't seen anything yet.

My business is dangerous.

Some men aren't so nice.

Something to remember me by.

A scandal! In my house!

- Valentine!
- I don't lay with sorcerers.

- What?!
- Snakes on him. I saw them move.

Our reputation! You have to go.

It's nothing.
He's an Indian, not a sorcerer.

- Then no Indians!
- Delicate whores!

Come on, girls.
Who will go with our redskin?

I'll double the fee.

- I like his tattoos.
- That settles that.

So, a sorcerer are we?

Will you do my portrait?

If you don't behave.

Weeks passed, and Duhamel's men
couldn't find the Beast.

A third winter would be spent
under her reign.

Neither the snow,
nor our rifles, nor our dogs

could stop her.

Recall how God warned us

through the words of Moses.

"I shall come unto you like a bear

"whose cubs are ravished.

"As a lion I shall devour
your children

"and spill their entrails.

"I will set upon ye a fearsome Beast

"to consume you and your flocks,
make your fields barren."

How long, oh Lord,
wouldst Thou forsake us?

A candle for each victim.
Is this truly the Age of Reason?

Have mercy!

Forgive me.

Have mercy.

Bless me.

What is it, my son?

God has punished me.
She snatched my children on Mt. Mouchet.

I'm damned. We all are!

Gather your men.
We must leave.

Alert Mani. I'll catch you on the way!

Marianne!

The wolves' friend.

I have something for you.

I want to see you. Alone.

In 10 days my mother's going in retreat
and my father to a cure.

10 days?

I'm not as free as you.

The torch.

Bring the torch!

The storm is rising.
The men are tired.

We'd best go home.

No. We must find the girl.

I found the child.

Captain, your web of traps

snare more peasants than wolves.

Your men have plundered
the population.

And since you began,
the wolf has taken 12 more lives.

She should never have escaped us.

How's that?

She should never have escaped us.

What say you, Fronsac?

What sort of wolf is this?

My only certainty
is that this is no wolf.

Wolves don't attack men,
or very rarely.

I saw it in New France.

Perhaps our wolves are different.

A rabid wolf will attack.

And dies within a fortnight.

For 2 years, the Beast has run.

Her victims bear wounds

no wolf could inflict.

I've often found upon the body

a piece of this metal.

- So?
- So...

No animal has fangs of iron.

Then the Beast is no animal? Fine.

How do we catch her?

While we speculate, she kills.

Gentlemen, let us hear M. De Fronsac,
with utmost attention.

So you say, sir,

this is no ordinary animal.

We all think so.

And for myself I'm pleased
you concede this is something...

supernatural.

I concede nothing, Father.
I have only doubts.

Anything to add?

No, gentlemen.

I've received this from Paris.

Capt. Duhamel, His Majesty,
informed of your ineffective efforts,

requests you be relieved.

You and your men
are to return to Langogne at once.

Sir Beauterne, Master at Arms,
is on his way.

His mandate is to kill
this ferocious wolf.

He alone is authorized to hunt
in the diocese.

Gentlemen...

Then I'm forgiven?

I was curious to know my totem.
Is that the word?

I would guess...

mermaid.

Are you never serious?
I'll ask your redskin.

And the Beast?
Have you spotted her?

Forbidden subject?

My absurd assumptions would
get me laughed out of King's Garden.

If I said the Beast
is flesh and iron mixed,

that it's possessed of reason
and may disappear at will,

what would you say?

Country air has affected your mind.

She's eluding me.

After three months,
you expect to have finished?

Should the Beast have surrendered?

Perhaps she's afraid of you.

Am I so fearsome?

A hard-won victory is better savored.

Is it true you're going to Africa?

For now it's but
a naturalist's winter dream.

And you?
Ever yearn for new horizons?

A lady has more duties
than yearnings.

Do you see Sardis over there?

Watching over you?

Looking out for me.

Alone with you,
God knows what could happen.

Let's go inside.
Our priest might catch cold.

Good evening, sir.

- You're in love.
- I don't know.

- I do.
- The cards?

I've never needed them for you.

So... let's drink.

To Mademoiselle De Morangias.

- What?
- Her brother was here.

You slept with him?

Him?
He can't stand to be touched.

He watches, he drinks.

Then he talks in his sleep
like all men.

Do I?

What do I say?

"Again!"

Know how Florentine women
keep their husbands home?

Each morning, they give them

a slow poison.

And every evening the antidote.
That way,

when the husband sleeps away,
he has a very bad night.

You needn't resort to that.

Anyway, we aren't married.

- I am Gre'goire De Fronsac.
- Yes, Buffon's envoy.

The naturalist embalmer.

M. De Beauterne is at the Intendent's.
Come at 2.

His Majesty asked my advice
about your report.

Complicated fables indeed!

I believe the Beast is a wolf.

I shall go out for it tomorrow.
I would rather

you didn't come.

Why is that?

The King left this affair to me,

and to my sole discretion.

I have no need of you to end it.

On the table, there's a letter
from Buffon and our beloved King.

I'm at his service,
but believe me this is not...

I've read your report. Trouble yourself
no longer with this Beast.

It's my affair.

You may go.

Come here.

A woman from Lorcière,
coming from the fair, was attacked...

Near Mt. Mouchet,
she vanished in the wood.

The Beast attacked in St. Alban.

God punished me for my sins.
My children perished at Mt. Mouchet.

...no more than I believe in...

The Beast is no animal.

No animal has iron fangs.

Sir, come at once.

I saw him!

Dispensing poison
and saying Satanic incantations!

God knows for how long!

Let him go.

An Indian remedy, Father.

Only our prayers may save her.

But, she was...

A miracle.

What happened to your brother?

A man with the Beast?

The lass is incoherent.

Yes, the Beast is dead.

No cure for 10 gut shots.

We've brought your things.
Begin at once.

—It's not the Beast.
—To work.

Ridiculous!

M. de Beauterne is coming.

Watch your lip!

Hello. Leave us.

Don't you like my Beast?

What is this?
You know it's not the Beast.

Her jaw is twice as large.

You can fix that here.

What?

Paris awaits. I have only this wolf.

So make me a Beast.

—To fool the King?
—No, Fronsac.

I carry out his will.

You'd be wise to do as much.

Is that a threat, sir?

At my age? Come now, you know me.

You're too smart to need threats.

Do your duty,
the King will be grateful.

Otherwise, he'll be quite upset.

You have what you need.
I'm counting on you.

Good-bye for now.

Good evening, sad knight.

Not pleased to return to Paris?

The Beast is dead. You should be glad.

Want to hear a secret?

I collect them!

Beauterne killed a wolf.
He's an impostor.

I'm his accomplice.

Here...

Drink to our treachery.

You saw nothing.

You are no longer welcome.

Tell Mlle De Morangias I'm here.

—I said...
—Talk of the devil!

My son and I
were just speaking of you.

I'm here to see your daughter.

—Out of the question.
—I insist.

Let him in, Mother.

Careful, Jean-François.

—You know what will happen.
—Leave us.

Sir...
Marianne is sick.

I don't understand.

Yet, Fronsac, you know
what is gnawing at her.

Where is she?

Follow me.

How kind of you to visit me!

Mademoiselle, what is going on?

I'm to return to Paris.

—But if you say the word...
—Bon voyage!

I warned you, sir.

You once gave me a gift.
Here are two in return...

for your collection.

I was warned about your kind.

My kind, Mademoiselle, does not
condemn people without listening.

Whatever has happened, let me explain.

Do not trouble yourself.

Sir, do not make this harder
than it already is.

Agree that you are no man
for my sister

and leave it at that, my friend.

She won't nurse you all her life!

Aren't you glad
to leave here in one piece?

We used to flay men
for looking at her.

—Times change.
—Not everywhere, Fronsac.

Not here they don't.

I'm sorry...

Will you hit me, too?

Farewell.

No regrets.
He didn't deserve you.

On this historic day, thanks be

to Sir Gre'goire De Fronsac,
of King's Garden.

The Beast's end is partly his.

But it is mostly
thanks to your Majesty.

Let that be known.

In your sole person
resides sovereign power.

Only a beast could ignore it.

That Beast is no more.

I have only little merit.

Your power bestowed upon me,
I merely needed to appear

and the Beast laid down her arms.

What is this?

Beauterne's carried out his orders.
As we all should.

—What orders?
—Mine.

This is M. Mercier,

special counsel to his Majesty
for domestic matters.

It was his idea
to send Antoine de Beauterne.

You're to thank
for this prompt victory?

Admirable scruples,
but it's for the greater good.

Have you read this?

Not for sale, but you may keep it.

It was banned?

A fable undermining the King.

Any longer, we'd have had trouble.
People are so gullible.

Better to lie
than let lies be spread?

Truth is a complicated thing.

One must govern by simplicity.

No more Beast, no more problem.

—She'll go on killing.
—Without acclaim.

That's what counts.

I was forgetting.
His Majesty is most thankful.

It's said you want to go to Africa.

In six months, a schooner
sets sail for Senegal.

If you wish, you'll be aboard.

Of course, we'll never speak
of Gévaudan again.

Well, Fronsac...

Marianne De Morangias?

Madame...

I don't believe I know you.

You and I have a mutual friend.

Why are you here?

No need to hide your face.

Your perfume is not that of a lady.

Gre'goire De Fronsac
only ever loved

one woman.

He calls you in his sleep.

He's going away

on a long journey.

I care not.

When next you see Fronsac,
don't say you saw me

or you will lose him for good.

Who was that, my child?

No one.

Put that in the hold, too.

Put those in my cabin.
They're fragile.

—Hello, sir.
—Marquis!

What brings you?

Bad news.

The crimes have begun again.

The King won't send more men.

I can't even find volunteers.

I can't help you catch the Beast.

Well, you're not the only one I need.

Mani found the girl.

Just one hunt!
You'll be back in a month.

The King won't let us go back.

—He won't know.
—You're wrong.

Many sacrifices could be avoided.

You won't change my mind.

—Want to bet?
—Last time, you lost.

It's a pity I need this
to persuade you.

It's from Marianne.
Where's Mani?

Hey, my friend!

How are you?

We're going hunting again.

We'll do it your way.

Well, sir, good news?

The best possible news, Marquis!

In the Gévaudan,
the crimes continued.

Officially, the Beast was dead.

What really happened
appears in no history book.

It was carefully hushed up.

Is he welcoming us?

He wants to help us.

Go to the castle. I'll meet you there.

What is it?

The Roulier house?

Straight on. Last in the village.

This is Jeanne,

my nanny.

Pierre, fetch some wine.

I'm being watched.
They might know you're back.

I'll tear you away from your family.

I can't bear my mother,
nor Jean-François.

I want to leave.

In a week, we'll go to Paris.

Why wait?

The hunt. I promised the Marquis.

You didn't return for me?

Look out!

Leave! Slowly, don't run!

Over here! Look at me!

Come here!

Go, Marianne!

What is this? Open up!

Tell me, do you really think
we'll find this Beast?

We're short of men.

Mani's able. I'm hunting a man.

A man?

The Beast is a weapon
serving a sick mind.

- A killer works in secret.
- Quite.

The Beast's mystery is its fame.

Her master seeks fear and noise.

How's that?

This book is sold all over.

It says the Beast is punishing
the King's indulgence

in philosophers.

Who wrote it?

I don't know,
but the Beast has a master. I want him.

Perhaps your weapon will help.

With you the carrier!

And you Mani?

Which will you choose?

Mani doesn't like firearms.

Too much noise and smoke.
Bad smell.

All will go well, Grandfather.

Don't worry.

We're well prepared.

Tell me of the Americas.

Will you never go back?

- Not all my souvenirs are good.
- And Mani?

Does he miss his tribe?

His tribe is no more.

Before our attack,
the pox had decimated his village.

Orders were to execute survivors.
The women,

and the children, too.
Only Mani escaped.

How?

We needed an interpreter.

I was to teach him our language.
I found him slaying the Captain.

Why not turn him in?

Know how the Captain waged battle?

He gave his scouts
infected hospital sheets.

The Iroquois bought them.
Three weeks later, we'd mop up.

- And that's our war?
- It was our defeat.

Where did he go?

- To speak to the trees.
- Trees?

Trees can speak.

The white man cannot listen or see.

See what, Mani?

Want to learn?

- What's this?
- An Indian sacrament.

You're on your own, Marquis.

- What's it do?
- Depends on the person.

They say they see the invisible.

Mani?

The Beast is in the forest.
The wolves will help us.

I see no better.

This night we shall dance
the dance of blood.

And the Beast shall come to us
with the sun.

It has no effect on me.

That night, Mani invoked spirits
in a language

even Fronsac couldn't understand.

And the wolves brought them the Beast.

Don't worry, I'll fix this for you.

Don't worry, girl. I'll see to you.

I'll take care of you.

Thomas is asleep. A close call.

I'm sorry for the Indian.

What is there?

Tell me, what manor is this?
I need to know.

It's a domain. A hunting ground.

Sir, you need rest.

Hurry! Fire!

He's over there.
Come on!

Fronsac returned to the Indian's side.

His revenge had hardly begun.

But Indian custom

required that, at dawn's first light,
he be sent to his ancestors.

What do you want?

Too much blood has been spilled.

You're in great peril here.

I have business to attend.

Is it worth your life?

How long have you known?

I don't know what you mean.

Come now, Sardis. How?

How did it get this far?

No one will believe you.

Go away, Sardis.

May God save you.

May the Devil take you.

You're under arrest.

By order of the Intendent,

please offer no resistance.

That's ridiculous.

- A lady to see you.
- Later. Tonight.

—Get up. You've got company.
—Aren't I in solitary confinement?

Depends for whom.

Sorry.

Bring your guest some dinner.

- How?
- Many owe me favors.

Help me. I must write the King.

You'd be hung
before he read your letter.

I've yet to stand trial.

Here.

- Tell me of the Beast.
- A trained animal.

Cloaked in armor. I wounded it.

Why the sudden interest?

Two years ago,

a confidential letter from Sardis

was given to the Pope.

It spoke of a newly founded
secret society,

whose purpose was to speak

and defend, by any means,
the word of the Church.

The "Brotherhood."

Sardis. He was using the Beast.

The Beast

is a warning to the King:

"Heed the power of the Lord
or suffer Apocalypse."

Members are known
as "wolves of God."

It serves the Church?

Sardis serves only himself.

This age has made him mad.

The group is beyond Rome's control.

In whose employ are you?

My duties include
never letting that be known.

And you... You know quite enough.

Mlle De Morangias, what an honor.

How fares the Countess?
Please sit down.

And your father? Still in cure?

He's too fond of rich food.

Sir, you've arrested Fronsac.

Such a man, how far he's fallen.

—He's neither bandit nor murderer.
—Really?

Listen,

he must've had his reasons.

If they killed the Indian...

That's another matter.

You don't avenge a savage
with Christian blood.

May I visit him?

Impossible.

Very well.

Paris shall hear of this.

You don't understand.
Fronsac passed away.

Last night.

In any case they'd have hung him.

Upon reflection, he was lucky.

He was in your custody.

Perhaps he choked.

Or caught a blight in the mattress.

You're lying. You're all lying!

Courage, it's the will of God.

Come.

- I'll escort you home.
- She needs rest.

- Let me alone!
- It's over.

He's already reeking.
Bury him quickly in an unmarked grave.

She threatened to go to the King.

That girl is dangerous.

Fronsac was buried that very night,

long before news of his death
reached Paris.

No one knew what secrets
he took to his grave.

For several days,
the Beast did not strike.

But the sudden disappearance
of her most dauntless foe

seemed of darkest portent.

Hurry.

Father, I'm guilty,
I have sinned.

Forgive me...

Marianne...
Day and night I think of her.

I hear her heart beating in my chest.

I want her on our side, Sardis.

The Lord is testing you.

I can't endure it.

The visions.

These accursed visions torment me.

Deliver me, Father.

I beg of you.

There's only one remedy for this evil.

Don't drink, sister.

They want to kill you.

But I won't let them.

Who does?

Who?

We're going to leave,
just you and me.

How about America?

You've hurt me, but I forgive you.

Please.
What are you doing?

Stay.

Would I harm you?

Please stay away from me.

Marianne, I need you.

You saved me when I was sick,
no one else.

Your face ended my nightmares.

Your hand on my brow chased demons.

You can't know all I've done
to keep you near.

I beg of you, don't shun me.

Why?

Do I disgust you?

You don't frighten me. Get out.

Because of this?

Never fear.

From now on, I'll take care of you.

Look.

No one knows.
Only Sardis and I.

Leave! Get out!

Why?

You're not my brother.

Another man returned from Africa.

That's true,
but it was for you I left.

But for you,
all this would not be.

All this?

It's your odor
that foul thing smelled on me.

We're of the same blood, Marianne.

When father comes back,

he'll kill you!

Unless I kill him?
He's hindered us so long.

Go ahead. Do it, go ahead.

Why didn't you?

Is it so difficult? Look.

—Stop.
—Then you love me?

Marianne, I love you.

Brothers, the Lord has told me,

the Beast will be back

to herald the return of values
to our decadent kingdom.

And in a reborn France

we shall be invisible princes,
for God is with us.

The people cannot fathom
the Lord's wrath.

The unjust censure of the King

cannot withstand the public's rage.

When that wrath is at a climax,

we'll bargain with the King.

If he couldn't repress one,

imagine if, from all over the realm,

other Beasts burst forth.

The hour is at hand
to reap what we've sewn.

Let us read from Malachi.

"The word of the priest
is the depository of science,

"and from his mouth is sought
knowledge of the law,

"for he is the angel
of the lord of hosts..."

"He who adores the Beast

"shall drink the Lord's wrath.

"He shall be tormented
in the fire and brimstone

"before the angels,

"and the smoke shall rise
in the century of centuries."

I've come back to name you.

Pierre-Jean Laffont.
Geneviève De Morangias.

Maxime Des Forêts.
Gontrand De Moncan.

Henri Sardis.
Jean-François De Morangias.

Amen!

Fire!

Bastards!
You're all under arrest!

Ghost or no ghost,

I'll split you in two.

See? No need to hold back.

I never intended to.

Too late. The Beast is immortal now.

Perhaps, but you are not!

- You trained the Beast.
- How'd you know?

You use silver bullets.

Look!

Marianne's not here, madman.

You've united us forever.

Line the bastards up!

Who are you?

Look at them!

Not so high and mighty now!

Get back!

- He's dead.
- Now it's certain.

And Sardis?

Wherever he runs, we'll find him.

Or the mountain will take him.

Shall we celebrate properly?

You've killed me once.

The better to revive you.

I could introduce you in Rome.
Would you come with me?

Too late.

I like you, Fronsac.
You make me forget all my duties.

Leave, before I change my mind.

- Marquis, what is it?
- Marianne.

I've had her brought home.
She's dying.

Get out! Go away! All of you!

Marianne, wake up!

Marianne, forgive me.

I love you.

Years passed,
but Grégoire De Fronsac

and Marianne De Morangias
never left my memory.

The world that made the Beast
is dying away

and I must hasten,
for my story, too, is ending.

I remember the Chevalier and I
at Jean-François's hideaway

where the Beast awaited
her final hour.

The old healer told us all he knew.

Jean-François brought
an animal back from Africa,

and it dropped a litter.

Only one cub was kept.
The strongest.

Patiently and cruelly,

he'd trained it,
made it ever meaner.

Thus died the Beast of Gévaudan.

And I, Thomas d'Apcher,

am probably the last to know
the whole truth.

The Chevalier invited me to Africa,

but my land needed rebuilding.
My duty was to my countrymen.

I've often thought
of Grégoire and Marianne

over the peaceful years
that brought me gently to old age.

I never saw them again,

but I like to think
they lived happily, far from here.