Spellbound Page #2

- Yes, I've read all his books.

A very keen, unorthodox mind.

It would be dreadful if Dr. Murchison's

successor was unworthy of him.

He's joining us.

I think you know

everyone here, Dr. Edwardes.

- No, not yet.

- Oh.

- This is Dr. Petersen.

- How do you do?

Dr. Edwardes.

Dr. Hanish has been

showing me the grounds.

It's a remarkable institution,

Dr. Murchison.

- Must be quite beautiful in the summer.

- I pointed out to Dr. Edwardes

our various open-air diversions

for the patients.

Dr. Murchison always argued

we did not do enough in that direction,

and I agree with him.

Let me warn you that Dr. Petersen

is a frustrated gymnast.

Dr. Fleurot considers anything

beyond sitting and standing gymnastics.

I imagine you're very fond of sports.

Yes, I am, and I miss them,

particularly winter sports.

Did you show Dr. Edwardes

the elm grove?

Yes, yes indeed.

That's where we hope to have

our new swimming pool.

I'm a great believer

in the swimming pool.

There's a perfect spot for it

among the elms.

Not an oblong one,

but an irregular pool, something...

Something like this, you know.

Bathhouses should be here.

I take it that the supply of linen

at this institution is inexhaustible!

Forgive me.

That reminds me of my professor

in psychiatry, Dr. Brulov.

He could never stand a sauce bottle

on the table or even a salt shaker.

They took his appetite away.

I remember once

at a banquet in his honor,

he refused to sit at the speaker's table

because he was completely

surrounded by...

...by ketchup.

Last night at dinner,

a dimple appeared in your cheek

that was never there before.

And I detected the outcroppings of

a mother instinct toward Dr. Edwardes.

I detest that sort of high-school talk.

Your reactions have upset

one of my pet theories about you.

To wit, that you were immune

to psychoanalysts

and would end up in the arms

of some Boob McNutt with spiked hair.

If I were looking for that type,

Dr. Fleurot, I would have adored you.

Come in.

Hi.

Excuse me, it's from Dr. Edwardes.

Love notes already.

The French school of science.

I didn't want to come to this

institution, but my brother insisted.

I can see no sense in it myself.

You see, I'm convinced I'm not suffering

from any hallucination

but that my guilt is very real.

I know, Dr. Edwardes,

that I killed my father.

And I'm willing to

pay the penalty for it.

Come in.

Thank you for coming so soon.

I've been listening to Mr. Garmes

and thought you might help me out.

Mr. Garmes, you shouldn't have

disturbed Dr. Edwardes.

That's all right.

I'm very interested in Mr. Garmes' case.

I knew you would be. He fits perfectly

into your chapters on the guilt complex.

Would you mind telling me

what you're talking about?

You're here to see if we can cure

your guilt complex by psychoanalysis.

But I have no guilt complex.

I know what I know.

- I killed my father and I...

- No, you didn't kill your father.

That's a misconception

that has taken hold of you.

I'm sorry, Doctor.

You were talking to him.

No, no, go on.

People often feel guilty over something

they never did.

It usually goes back to their childhood.

The child often wishes something

terrible would happen to someone,

and if something does

happen to that person,

the child believes he's caused it.

Then he grows up with a guilt complex

over a sin that was

only a child's bad dream.

What I am thinking isn't true, then?

No. In the course of analyzing yourself,

you'll see that.

Would you care

to go back to your room, Mr. Garmes?

Harry.

I think we'd better put him under drugs

for a few days.

He looks agitated.

His conviction is curious.

But you've encountered such cases

very often, Dr. Edwardes.

You described them perfectly

in your book.

Yes.

Yes, so I did.

- Would you mind doing me a favor?

- Not at all, Doctor.

I've a headache. I'd like to take

the afternoon off. With you.

I understand you're not on duty

till after dinner.

- I intended typing out my notes.

- Please, I need a little fresh air

and you look as though

it might do you a bit of good.

I was going to lunch

with Dr. Hanish.

He has an interesting new patient,

a kleptomaniac.

Kleptomaniacs for lunch? They'll steal

the food right out of your mouth.

Excuse me.

Hello? Yes. Dr. Edwardes.

What? Yes, Anthony Edwardes.

Who?

Sorry, I don't get your name.

Norma Cramer?

Please, Miss Cramer,

I'm very busy and I don't know you.

Some girl claiming to be...

I hate practical jokes, don't you?

People calling you up and chirping,

"Guess who I am. "

Sounds like some ex-patient of yours.

They're always full

of coy little tricks.

Very likely. Come on, let's go.

We'll look at some sane trees, normal

grass, and clouds without complexes.

I think the greatest harm

done to the human race

has been done by the poets.

Poets are dull boys, most of them,

but not especially fiendish.

But they keep filling people's heads

with delusions about love,

writing about it as if it were a

symphony orchestra, a flight of angels.

- Which it isn't, eh?

- Of course not.

People fall in love, as they put it,

because they respond

to a certain hair coloring,

or vocal tones or mannerisms

that remind them of their parents.

Or sometimes, for no reason at all.

But that's not the point. The point is

that people read about love as one thing

and experience it as another.

They expect kisses

to be like lyrical poems

and embraces to be like

Shakespearean dramas.

And when they find out differently,

then they get sick

and they have to be analyzed, eh?

Yes, very often.

Professor, you're suffering

from mogo on the go-go.

I beg your pardon.

- You can't get through there like that.

- I can. I've done it many times.

- You hurt?

- No, not at all.

- Here.

- No, I'm perfectly all right.

I've usually gone on picnics here alone.

That doesn't sound like much fun.

I haven't gone in for fun,

as you call it.

Isn't this beautiful?

Perfect.

Oh, lunch. Lunch. What will you have?

Ham or liverwurst?

Liverwurst.

Has anybody seen our new chief today?

He has been tied up.

He frisked off

with Dr. Petersen at noon.

It's odd spending his first day

running after Dr. Petersen

like a drooling college boy.

It'll do Constance good

to be drooled over.

Poor girl's withering away with science.

I was telling her only recently

that something vital

was missing from her life.

Please don't get up.

I just came in because

I learned Mr. Garmes became agitated

again this afternoon.

- Yes, I gave him a sedative.

- I'm very sorry I wasn't here.

Nonsense. You look as if

you had an instructive time.

- Instructive?

- Gentlemen, notice her stocking.

The lady's been climbing trees.

Or lolling in a briar patch.

No, it's trees.

There are two leaves in her hair.

Allow me, Dr. Petersen.

You're surpassing yourself

as a charmer, Dr. Fleurot.

Don't run away. Do have some coffee.

Dr. Petersen's already eaten,

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