Sade Page #4

Touch me here.

What's wrong, child?

Think I'm fit to be scrapped?

Your problem is that you're a virgin here...

and here.

You're not as clever

as the young ladies in my novels.

Yes, I write with my member in hand.

Goodbye, Lancris.

Don't take it badly.

My brutality was a form of tact.

You'll thank me for having spared you.

Or else ask Augustin to give you a child.

The guillotine spares pregnant women.

Speak to her first.

Women grow randy through the ear.

Yes?

I won't read your books, but I might play.

Get on with it.

- Look terrifying, Lancris.

- I'll try.

Higher.

- My part is so dark.

- Very dark!

Don't spare the makeup.

I want you with oriental eyes.

Enjoying yourself at least?

You see?

Let us act childish, act mad, act foolish.

When life threatens to slip away,

seize it while you can.

On stage!

Deep in the harem...

where man ventures not for fear of death,

Angelica discovered

the dark joys of captivity.

Is any prison more voluptuous?

Oblivious of duty,

to satisfy a passion censured here,

but not in the Orient,

the Grand Eunuch smuggled

young Astolphe in

under the heavy veils of these houris

who fill Mahomet's paradise.

But,

during that time,

the favorite, consumed by jealousy,

sharpens a dagger.

The shrew will strike,

tear out Angelica's heart

before the Grand Turk's wild-eyed gaze.

Faced with this monstrous spectacle,

the libertine cannot conceal an emotion

that is only too natural.

Read.

On orders of Citizen Avril, Public Works.

The ditch must be 25 feet long,

Sink posts at each end.

I'll report this to Public Safety.

Why here? You want my ruin, citizen?

No one will use my park now.

Does it serve the Nation?

Or people of leisure?

You read the requisition order.

It's in the national interest.

The tumbrels will come in

where the diggers are.

What are you doing?

- Who are you?

- The gardener.

Then grab a shovel.

What an outfit!

Will I be compensated?

Are you joking?

Who are they?

My patients.

Go back to your rooms.

Your patients are mad to dress like that.

And you allow this masquerade?

So, Charles, always in your atlas?

He can't keep his nose out of it.

Time for bed.

- It's still light out.

- Continue tomorrow.

Today's the longest day of the year.

Be good.

Sleep well, child.

Until tomorrow.

It's hot. Change your shirt.

This one's clean.

We can put his bed upstairs.

He'll be better there.

You're tired.

I hardly slept all week.

I go back tonight.

Sedition seeps

through the very floorboards.

We must eradicate it.

Listen, I can't protect him any longer.

Why not?

Robespierre spoke of Sade.

He abominates his kind.

We're stalking the libertines.

I must go see him.

Picpus has been requisitioned.

No more visits.

Not even newspapers.

Get me a pass.

To tell him what?

No, I can't.

From now on, I heed my convictions.

Aren't you happy with me?

And there. Don't deny it.

You'll forget him soon enough.

I can't. He's like family.

Family?

A woman comes with her past.

She can't just discard it.

A family demands love and respect.

It's sacred. Don't debase the word.

He's as alone as the devil.

- What I'm asking is...

- I know what.

It fills me with shame. Understand?

Shame of what? Saving a life?

That's not betraying anything.

That man is the enemy.

Because I lived with him?

No, he's no longer a rival.

He is what must no longer exist.

If I save him,

will you swear never to see him?

You hesitated. It's a start.

Let me go to Picpus.

And what do we do?

Send him home to his ruins,

put him out to pasture?

So he can rape farm girls

and write his filth, while we all croak?

Strip them!

The shoes and garments here!

They're for the hospital poor.

Don't look, child. It's horrible.

I want to see.

They're wedging the bodies with the heads.

The stench!

The stench is unbearable.

He's not coming tonight?

I wouldn't be surprised if he did.

Without him, what would become of us?

- I'm opening the window.

- But the stench...

It's stifling in here!

The smell of herbs is worse!

Are you counting? The dead?

A superstition of mine, my fetish.

I juxtapose figures I hear during the day.

I add or subtract them.

They become signs I alone understand.

To read the future?

In a way.

The future's easy to predict.

It can be reckoned in days, in hours.

Nothing is ever played out.

They roam about the building,

on every floor, in the halls.

They wander like souls in purgatory.

Isn't it strange?

Here we're free, but prisoners.

As if dead before dying.

This is still life, Emilie.

How can I experience it all in so little time?

And even if the worst happens?

We return to the matter we came from.

Without fear, without hope.

We will be dead,

but the world will continue.

That's nature.

Men today,

worms tomorrow, flies the day after.

Isn't that still existence?

A far more comforting eternity

than the lies of Christ.

But we're not matter.

It's inhuman!

What we feel, what we try to grasp,

those we live with, you, me...

Their gestures, their voices,

the words that soothe us, hurt us...

Look at me.

If I die now, I'll never have existed.

Did I hear a knock?

Come with me. Right now.

Follow me. Don't argue.

- Another ditch?

- The first was full.

- How many?

- At least 500.

This is a special favor.

Don't reveal it, or you're done for.

Don't leave here. I'll come for you.

You stopped coming.

They wouldn't let me.

Even before, you stopped.

How are you?

I lost a tooth. It hurts.

It may be an abscess.

You must get out. That's why I'm here.

How?

I don't know.

I'll find a way for you to escape.

To go where?

We'll see.

Listen, you're in danger, personally.

I wrote the Committee again.

To tell them what?

That you're not noble?

That you didn't write Justine?

It's no use now.

You have to escape.

I'm a good republican.

You have some bizarre ideas.

I have a toothache.

There are a hundred ways to vanish.

Basically,

you want to be rid of me.

You're unfair.

Escape, first.

It's awful here.

Yes,

the earthly paradise is a mass grave now.

The pendulum swings...

And here we are taking the air.

He know you're here?

You live with him now?

You can say yes, since it's true.

Perhaps you're better off.

You're a tribune's companion.

How fine.

How fine but how hazardous.

Yes, I live with him.

He's honest. He'll help us.

A fine soul!

Honest atop a pyramid of corpses!

He's not brutal, the times are.

"Citizen Fournier has the floor."

How you defend him!

Has he improved any?

How does he do it?

From the front, behind, both?

Be quiet.

Some men are born to be virgins.

I've also made a few conquests

in your absence.

The young lady I saw?

She's delicious.

And no fool.

A vivacious nature.

Poor thing...

Her womb is aching for it.

I'm beyond forcing asses and c*nts.

I'm getting old.

So am I.

What did you bring me?

What I could find. It's not easy.

Pt, fruit.

I dislike this brand.

What about Charles?

Does he still speak of me?

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