Perfume: The Story of a Murderer Page #4

I told that cretin ten times

to get these ready!

Don't keep picking on the boy.

I'll kill him, the useless

little sewer rat!

Grenouille!

What are you doing?

Why aren't the enfleurage

frames...

Yes, master?

I mean, would you be good enough

to prepare the enfleurage frames?

Certainly, master.

Acurfew?

Are you mad?

Jasmine can only be picked

before dawn. We all know that.

This could mean

the ruin of our trade.

Yours.

And yours and yours.

Supposing it's your daughter

next time.

Of course a curfew is necessary,

but we also have to catch this man

and to do that is to understand

how he thinks, what he wants.

I should have thought that

was obvious. Use your imagination.

And if I were to tell you

that all except the prostitute

went to their graves

with their chastity intact?

How would you know?

The coroner had each girl examined.

They were all found to be virgins.

Supposing there isn't a next time?

If we introduce a curfew we

may all go bankrupt for nothing.

So we wait until he's killed,

what? Six?

Seven? Eight?

Curfew!

Go back to your homes!

Gentlemen!

Gentlemen!

We have to face the fact that our

police are helpless in this matter.

I suggest that we ask

for support from Paris.

Paris won't be smarter than we are.

We must arrest every Gypsy

in Provence. And every beggar.

And every man without

a wife and family!

Listen.

We have to put ourselves

inside the mind of this man.

Each of his victims

had an especial beauty.

We know he doesn't want

their virginity, so it seems to me

that it's their beauty itself

that he wants.

It's almost as if he's trying

to gather something.

As if his ambitions

are those of a collector.

A collector? Of what?

Their hair?

Whatever it is,

I fear he won't stop killing

until his collection is complete.

Monsieur.

This man is a demon.

A phantom who cannot be fought

by human means.

Now, I insist that we call upon

our bishop to excommunicate him!

What good would that do?

Have you no faith in the power

of our Holy Mother Church?

This is not a matter of faith.

There's a murderer out there

and we must catch him

by using our God-given wits!

I say until

we submit to Mother Church

these killings will not cease.

Citizens of Grasse, we hereby

declare that this murderer,

this demon in our midst,

has incurred the sentence

of excommunication.

Not only has this depraved monster

robbed us of our daughters,

the young and fair blossom

of this city,

and by his wanton acts

has brought our trade,

our livelihood,

our very existence,

to the brink of eternal darkness.

We therefore declare

that this vile viper,

this ignominious carbuncle,

this execrable evil in our midst,

shall henceforth be solemnly

banned from our holy presence,

rejected from the communion

of Holy Mother Church

as a disciple of Satan,

slayer of souls.

Stand clear!

An infected limb,

an outsider of the faith

a necromancer,

a diabolist, a sorcerer

and a damned heretic.

Oh, God, in Thy most

merciful spirit,

bring down thunderbolts

upon his head

and may the Devil

make soup of his bones.

Amen.

My Lord! It's a miracle!

He's been caught!

He's been caught!

My Lord, the fiend has been caught.

In the city of Grenoble.

He's confessed to everything.

He's confessed to everything!

Hallelujah!

Hallelujah!

Praise be to God!

And we thank Him

for listening to our prayers

and answering them.

Amen.

Amen.

Just read the report.

This cannot possibly

be the same man.

He confessed to everything.

Including the murders in Grasse.

Yes. Under torture.

Look. Here.

He admits to strangling

his victims,

pulling out their hair

and ravaging them.

The Grasse girls were killed by

a blow to the back of their heads

their hair was carefully cropped,

and not one of them was violated.

Antoine,

we're all happy it's over.

Let it go.

- Papa, what's the matter?

- We're going home. Now!

But why? I'm enjoying myself.

- Don't argue with me, Laura.

- Stop it! I'm going...

Laura!

Laura!

Out of my way!

Laura!

Laura!

Papa!

I'm so sorry.

I know you must think me

a very foolish man,

but try to understand

you're all I have left.

You don't need to explain, Papa.

- Lf anything were to happen to you...

- I know.

But you must stop worrying

about me all the time.

Sweet dreams, my love.

Sweet dreams, Papa.

Laura!

Papa, what's the matter?

Did you open the window?

No.

Why?

Have this letter dispatched to the

Marquis de Montesquieu immediately.

Stay on the road north

into the mountains.

Did Monsieur Richis leave?

He did.

Which way?

North.

You sure it wasn't south?

I saw them with my own eyes.

Why do you want to know?

I said north. North!

Grenouille!

Grenouille!

Grenouille!

Grenouille!

Good God!

Good afternoon, Monsieur.

Good afternoon. Do you have

anyone else staying here?

No, Monsieur.

Then I would like to take

all your rooms for the night.

It will be our pleasure, Monsieur.

And tomorrow, at first light, we wish

to be ferried to the Ile de Lrin.

- It's deserted, just a few monks.

- I'm aware of that.

Very well, Monsieur.

Our finest room, Mademoiselle.

With a superb view of the sea.

Very well.

Do you have a room next to this one?

- Yes, but the view is different.

- I have no interest in the view.

Papa, will you please tell me

now what is happening?

You haven't said a word all day.

Why all this secrecy?

Last night I dreamt you were dead,

murdered like all the other girls.

The truth is, I'm convinced that

the killer is still here somewhere.

All of his victims

were young and beautiful,

and who is there more beautiful

than you, Laura?

Whatever his insane scheme,

it will surely be incomplete

without you.

I wrote to the Marquis accepting

his proposal of marriage

and requesting that it take place

as soon as possible.

Until then you will stay

in the safety of the monastery.

And all this because

you had a bad dream?

- I've made my decision.

- But I don't know if I love him!

I'm afraid the circumstances

leave us no choice.

- Papa!

- It's all arranged, Laura.

On your feet.

Hands in the air!

Why did you kill my daughter?

Why?

I needed her.

Why did you kill my daughter?

Ljust...

needed her.

Very well.

But remember this.

I will be looking at you

when you are laid on the cross

and the twelve blows

are crashing down on your limbs.

And when the crowd has finally tired

of your screams and wandered home,

I will climb up through your blood

and sit beside you.

I will look deep into your eyes

and drop by drop

I will trickle my disgust into them

like burning acid,

until

finally

you perish.

Unchain the prisoner.

That's enough.

Let him be brought to the scaffold.

What's that?

He's over there.

This man is innocent!

He is innocent!

An angel!

This is no man!

This is an angel!

Grenouille!

You can't fool me!

Forgive me,

my son.

The people of Grasse

awoke to a terrible hangover.

For many of them,

the experience was so ghastly,

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