Arch of Triumph

The winter of 1938

was one year before the beginning

of the Second World War,

and Paris was still an island of light

in the darkness of Europe.

And everywhere, men saw

the new European citizen...

the refugee.

And on the streets,

political refugees rubbed shoulders

with the refugees from life.

And no one cared

if these men and women lived or died.

So history prepared the end of an era

and the beginning of our times.

Your friend's escaped.

Halt!

Sybil Fildorf.

She had nothing to do with it.

Sybil Fildorf.

Was never in my confidence.

- Sybil Fildorf.

- I scarcely know her.

Sybil Fildorf!

- What happened on the road?

- I don't know.

You don't know, you don't know.

Tell me what you know.

She knows nothing.

There is nothing to know.

She will know.

Crack.

- You know.

- I don't know.

Yes.

Oziri zigarette.

They're gold-tipped.

You have given us unnecessary trouble.

Ja, she's dead.

You're quite right.

She did not know.

Is a pity.

My apologies.

Your bill, sir.

Certainly.

This raid,

the police pick up this fellow Polyanski

in some bistro.

He told them where he lived.

Did they catch anyone else?

No, no, no, no.

Madam Favier was able to get them

all down to the cellar.

Ah, good evening, Colonel.

Dr. Ravic.

Good evening.

Good evening.

Let us play game of billiards, eh?

Police will probably be

busy upstairs for some time.

All right.

- Name?

- Mueller.

You keep out of this.

Name?

Polyanski.

Vladislav Polyanski?

Didn't you know this man had no papers?

I wasn't on the desk when he registered.

Alois, if you ever let another person

register without papers...

Never mind that.

This isn't your first offense.

I'm sorry, but this time,

you'll get six months

before we deport you.

Next time, it'll be worse.

It's the law.

I saw Haake.

Again?

Uh, are you sure?

Yes.

Did he see you?

No.

Do you think he would recognize you

if he did see you?

He thinks I'm dead.

Lucky for your friends at home.

He recognized Krauss.

Krauss has no friends left.

Ghosts.

I thought I would be over this by now.

Eh. One never is.

I am still waiting

for three Franco Spaniards.

That's my dream.

Everybody in this room has his dream.

Rappaport, over there,

he dreams they are pulling out

his fingernails again.

Krings dreams they are chasing him down

Unter der Linden.

He runs and runs,

but they always catch him.

Schultz,

his friends call him The Bird of Death.

He dreams of the next disaster.

He left Berlin two weeks

before Hitler came to power.

He left Vienna three days

before the Nazis came in.

My dream is Sybil's face

after they had finished with her.

She couldn't tell them anything

because she knew nothing.

She was not in my confidence.

She meant no more to me

than a beautiful painting.

They expected her to crack,

but she didn't crack.

She let them kill her,

right before my eyes.

Haake killed her.

She had a world of courage,

but no great strength.

She lasted a very little while.

You will have your revenge, Ravic.

These crimes cannot go unpunished.

Revenge? No, not revenge.

Revenge is a personal thing.

This is something bigger.

Sybil's face is now the symbol

of thousands of beaten faces.

Haake must never leave France.

Each time he returns to Berlin,

innocent people die.

By the hundreds, they die.

Let me go.

Let me go.

Go where?

Leave me alone.

You're not well.

Let me get you a cab

and send you home.

What?

Did you hear me?

I said I'll put you in a cab and send you

to your apartment, your hotel.

Hotel?

Or wherever you live.

No, not my hotel.

Then where?

Look, if you're thinking

of taking a swim, don't.

It's the wrong time of year.

The water is too cold.

I hadn't thought of it.

Oh, well, then, I won't be responsible

for putting ideas in your head.

Come.

I know a little place around the corner.

You need a drink to warm you up.

Come on.

The bridge will always be here.

What do you want to drink?

Anything.

Two Calvados and a package

of Chesterfields.

Only French.

Then give me a package

of Laurents... Green.

Only Blue.

All right, Blue.

I may still have one Green left.

Green. Found one after all.

Were you in the Navy?

No, the circus.

Oh, better still.

Here, drink this.

Drink it all at once.

For a moment, it will give you the illusion

that you are living in a hot, dry country.

Which way are you going?

I don't know.

Where do you live?

I can't go there, not there.

Don't you know anyone

to whom you can go?

You could call them up from here.

No.

No, there is nobody.

But you must go somewhere.

Haven't you any money for a room?

Yes, yes, I have.

Then go to a hotel.

Look, you've got to go somewhere.

You can't stay

in the streets in this rain.

Yes, you're right.

You're quite right.

Don't trouble about me anymore.

I'll find a place.

Thank you for everything.

All right.

Come with me.

We'll find something for you.

Thank you.

This room was empty yesterday.

Madame Favier must have locked it

for fear the bedbugs will get away.

Sit down a moment.

I'll try from the balcony side.

It's no use.

The window is locked, too.

May I sit here for a moment?

You can sleep here.

That's the easiest thing.

You should have

left me on the street.

You won't disturb me.

It's not the first time

someone has stayed here all night

because he had nowhere else to go.

This is a hotel for refugees,

people with prices on their heads,

people who hang themselves

the next morning

or leave for Peru.

You can take the bed.

I'll sleep on the sofa. I'm used to it.

No, no, I'Il...

I'll just stay where I am.

If I may only sit here, that's all.

Just as you like.

Better take off your coat.

It's quite wet.

Your hat, too.

Now your shoes.

Take off your stockings.

I'll get you a pair of woolen ones.

In critical times,

have an eye for comfort.

That's an old soldier's maxim.

Hello?

Oh, oh, yes, Veber.

I'll be there at once.

I've got to go out.

It's all right. You can stay here.

Can't I go with you?

No, no, impossible.

You stay here and take whatever you need.

Oh, here.

You'll find pajamas

in the bottom drawer.

Thank you.

Please, may I keep the light on?

I wasn't going to turn it off.

I know that feeling.

Lucien.

Where is my Lucien?

How is she?

Pulse, 100.

Pressure, 110 over 80.

Pulse is weak and thready, 140.

Pressure, 70 over 40.

I can't get her pressure.

Is she gone?

Yes.

You did all you could, Ravic.

We can't win against quacks.

Love,

your magic spell is everywhere.

The bracelet on her ankle read,

"Always, Lucien."

Where is Lucien now?

21 years old, Veber.

21 years old.

The dignity of man,

the beauty of woman,

the innocence and subtlety of love,

a quack in a dirty cellar,

then this.

By now you should be tough.

One is never tough,

but one can get used to a lot of things.

That's what I mean.

But with some things, never.

Good night, Colonel.

Drive on.

Hello, hello!

Hello, Boris.

Eh, busy again

with scientific murder, eh?

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