Bluebeard Page #6

I won. I beat you.

Get me the glass of milk I won.

You're blocking the sun.

Sorry.

She was as lazy as a cat.

She was interested in nothing.

She was just like a stone.

A happy stone in the sunshine.

A stone is just a stone.

I tried to give her some soul,

to wake her up.

It's ridiculous.

Absolutely ridiculous.

You did it because

you were jealous.

I'm sorry.

If you wanted to make love,

all you had to do was ask.

Come.

Strike.

Strike!

Strike, strike, strike!

I suppose you think

I should have let her go.

That's your business.

I don't care to discuss it.

Have you turned

against me, too, Anne?

I'm not against anyone.

I've got my own problems.

And you're a liar.

I, a liar?

You, a liar.

You knew all about Marka

combing your mother's hair.

As you said,

that was my own business.

And besides,

my mother enjoyed

having her hair combed.

Kurt, please! Call off the dogs!

Don't worry, darling.

He won't hurt you.

I do not understand, darling,

why your friend did not

stay in his hotel room

and mind his own business.

A man should know his own limits,

don't you agree?

I had to take care of Marka, too.

After so many years of loyalty,

suddenly she was

going to betray me.

She had become fond of you.

She wanted to warn you,

to tell you the truth.

She even wrote you a letter.

Ungrammatical, of course,

she was illiterate.

But with that letter,

she signed the death warrant

of the only thing she really loved:

The old white cat.

Another lover of yours.

But in the end, it would

have led you to the vat

where old Marka lies fermenting

along with all the must.

I feel sorry for your friend.

It costs a fortune

to come from the city

to here by taxi.

Pity that you spoiled it, darling.

It was my favorite.

Why does everyone

want to hurt me?

It's the only way to express gratitude

to a man like you.

Anne, why do you insult me?

You're a monster!

You make me shudder.

You have a small, nasty soul.

You're a monster, a sadist!

And you're a whore!

You are worse than the others

because you talk of love!

I pitied you.

But not now.

Now I feel only hate.

Just like the others.

No, the others

loved you in their own way.

Even if just

for your money or your name

or for this castle.

But I despise you!

Not for long, darling.

Not for long.

You know why you're

killing me, don't you?

And why you killed all the others?

They were monsters.

No, they were just women.

Their only fault was that

they wanted a little love,

and you weren't able

to give it to them, were you?

It all adds up now.

I wondered why you

never came to bed with me.

You were sick. You were ill.

Not always.

And they?

Were they ill?

Think back on what you've told me.

In every case, every case,

you killed them at the very moment

when they tried

to give themselves to you.

All of them.

No, no, not all of them.

Not Greta, I did not kill Greta.

Oh, yes, Greta, too.

Think hard.

Try to remember.

Greta, too.

Oh, it's lovely!

Oh, it's so nice.

Oh, darling,

it's a perfect place for a honeymoon.

Darling, close the door.

Oh, darling, I'm all thumbs.

Please, help me.

Oh, Kurt!

There are bound

to be nervous disorders

when one has had

the wartime experiences of the baron.

Your husband, Baroness,

needs rest and quiet,

like all heroes.

Oh, darling, I'll make you well.

Feeling better today, darling?

Yes, thank you, a little.

I can hardly wait for

you to get really healthy.

I dream about us making love

every night now.

I don't like being a virgin wife.

Last night again, darling.

It's always the same dream.

It's wonderful, but then...

I'm sure it's nothing

like the real thing, is it?

Feeling better today, darling?

Yes, thank you, a little better,

but still not strictly up to par.

Don't worry, darling. I can wait.

In the meantime,

I'll just keep dreaming.

They say there is

no better aphrodisiac than caviar.

Aphrodisiac?

They're merely fish eggs, my dear.

- Kurt?

- Yes?

I'm fed up with being

an undeflowered wife.

I'm coming to bed.

Well, I don't think

I'm really well enough yet.

I'll make you well enough, darling.

That should do it.

Hold this.

Well, I know my mother

didn't tell me everything,

but this I don't believe.

I told you, darling,

that I'm still not completely well.

If you can't get

over a nervous breakdown

in two years, you'll never get over it.

Oh, darling, forgive me.

I know it can't be so.

Oh, darling, I'm afraid it's no use.

You don't have

to show that attitude.

It may mean nothing to you,

but it means a great deal to me.

I'm terribly sorry, darling,

but I'm afraid you simply have

to learn to live with it.

Live with it?

Me? Are you mad?

Do you think it's

just because you're a hero?

I don't give a damn about heroes.

I want the man:
M-A-N.

If you're not one,

I'll go out and find one.

I need one, do you understand?

And right away,

even if I have to cause a scandal

or get a divorce.

Well, there's the truth at last.

You did kill her.

It's the only thing

you know how to do,

in war or in peace.

You're only half a man.

A poor, impotent creature

who's afraid to admit it to himself...

Shut up, damn you, shut up.

Why? You can kill me only once.

Let me get this off my chest and die happy.

You've always been in love

with your mother, Kurt.

Only with her.

The portraits, Marka,

the cat, this damn castle.

I spit on you, darling.

And not because you can't

go to bed with a woman.

That's a pitiful problem.

You make me sick

because you won't admit it.

You'd rather kill than have it known,

and anyone who finds out about it

ends up in the freezer.

Shut up, shut up, shut up!

The great hero trembling at the thought

that his myth might collapse.

I am a man! And I can prove it to you!

Prove it.

No, my dear.

I know your level.

You shall join your friend Sergio.

I'll give you to my dogs.

You will fnd the temperature

a little below zero.

It will take you about 11/2 to 2 hours

before you join the others.

Good-bye...

forever.

It's absurd.

It's ridiculous.

The baroness must already

have left for Venice.

And what about the funeral?

In my opinion, it's best the poor girl

doesn't come up for the funeral.

It will be grandiose and historic,

true, but exhausting.

Especially for a young widow.

We'll make sure she knows

her husband died like a hero.

I swear, at this moment,

I envy her.

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