Immortal Beloved Page #5

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Go to her.

It must be.

May we speak in private?

I have nothing to hide

from my workers.

I implore you.

As you can see,

I am very busy.

Frau Beethoven...

may I see a sample

of your handwriting?

- Why?

- Please.

Indulge me.

Here.

Is this your handwriting?

What is this?

A page from the registry

of a hotel in Karlsbad.

I would like you to go.

Signed...

by you.

Did you ever meet Ludwig

in Karlsbad?

You can hardly be unaware of the manner

in which I suffered at his hands.

I find the question

as insulting as it is impudent.

What are you implying?

There can be no peace

without the truth.

For you, maybe.

But I have made my peace

with Ludwig.

I forgave him

because of the "Ode to Joy".

When they announced the premiere

of the Ninth Symphony...

the gossip was everywhere.

Ludwig had fought with the singers.

He had fought the theater.

Even though

I had hated him for so long...

even though

he had tried to destroy me...

I went.

I had to go.

I knew it would be the last time.

I could not see him...

and I imagined

some last-minute insult...

had sent him running home.

Then I saw him.

Everybody saw him.

Bravo!

He had revealed

his most hidden secrets to us.

The circle was broken.

I could not hate the man

who could write such music.

I saw him one more time...

at his rooms

on Schwarzspanier Strasse.

That was where he died.

His belly swelled so much...

that the surgeon had to make a puncture

to drain off the fluid.

The incision became inflamed.

His strength has gone,

and I fear the death struggle has begun.

I want him to receive the last rites

while he is still conscious.

But when I suggested

I send for a priest...

he turned his face to the wall

and called me an ass.

Then he asked for you.

I don't know why.

Is he sleeping?

I don't think so.

He is composing.

The comedy is over.

Yes.

I once loved him.

But he turned his back on me.

He abandoned me.

I never heard a word from him.

I was a fool.

I never meant anything to him.

But the letter...

What letter?

Frau Beethoven, I believe...

this is addressed to you.

"My angel...

my all...

my other self.

Just a few words today,

and that in pencil...

yours.

Only tomorrow will I know for certain

where I am to stay.

A worthless waste

of time and such.

Why this deep sorrow?

If we could be united,

we would feel this pain no longer.

Where I am...

you are with me too.

Soon we shall live together,

and what a life it will be".

- We must talk.

- Not here.

Caspar will come.

We must speak.

I'm talking too loudly.

Meet me in Karlsbad.

This is the address.

I can no longer skulk around

like a guilty schoolboy.

I have your child in me.

Go.

"The journey was dreadful.

I did not arrive here

until 4:
00 in the morning.

At the last stop they warned me

against traveling at night...

and tried to frighten me

about a forest...

but that only tempted me.

The coach had to go and break down

on such a terrible road for no reason.

Just a country road...

and now I am held up completely.

But I have found another...

and we will surely

see one another soon.

Today, I hope.

I have to see you.

However much you love me...

I love you more.

Never hide yourself from me".

Herr van Beethoven!

Wait!

"While still in my bed...

my thoughts turn to you...

my immortal beloved.

Some of them happy, some sad...

waiting to see

whether fate will hear us.

I can live only completely

with you or not at all.

Yes. It must be.

I must go to sleep now.

Be calm, love.

Today, yesterday...

what longing with tears for you.

You.

You're my life.

My everything.

Farewell, then.

Go on loving me.

Ever yours, ever mine...

forever".

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