The Hands of Orlac Page #3

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Louise...

You remember the accident?

This horrible night when I was

carried to Volchek's clinic?

- How could I forget?

- Well...

- Something happened during that night.

At dawn. -You got an operation.

Yes, the operation. That's it.

At the same time, Louis Vasseur,

the strangler, was guillotined.

- There's no relation.

- Of course there is a relation, Louise.

It's unbelievable.

It's monstruous but there

must be a relation.

- Calm down please.

- My hands, Louise, my hands!

They dominate me, they govern me!

As if they belonged to someone

else. To Louis Vasseur for instance.

You think that Volchek... It's unbelievable. It sounds

grand-guignolesque. It's not worthy of an intelligent man like you.

I know but I can't get rid

of this obsession.

I'm afraid of my hands!

Afraid of me!

It's all in your head Stephen. You

only have your imagination to blame for.

- Try to get a grip on yourself.

- Don't you think I already tried that?

But if Volchek succeded in

transplanting eyes, kidneys,

even brains,

he could also have succeded in transplanting

the hands of another man to me.

And just by luck he would

have chosen the hands of a murderer?

- Volchek is a genius, not a monster.

- All geniuses are sorcerer's apprentices.

But now his work have gone out of control.

These hands...

I'm not their master anymore!

They're scaring me.

Come on, Stephen...

Go away Louise, go away.

I'm not afraid of your

hands Stephen. Look.

They're built for Chopin, Debussy,

and also for me.

You must come back

to the villa right now.

Not yet Louise.

I need to take stock

of the question.

Face to face with myself. Alone.

You'd better leave.

I'm going.

But I'm alive.

Don't forget that I'm alive.

I'm waiting for you Stephen.

When you're ready.

- You didn't find him, Miss?

- I did.

- Where is he?

- In business.

It's all in your head Stephen. You

only have your imagination to blame for.

You must come back

to the villa right now.

I'm going but I'm alive.

Don't forget that I'm alive.

I'm waiting for you Stephen.

So, you forgot about me?

Yes.

- Completely.

- What happened?

- You have changed.

- It's possible.

I'm leaving Li-Lang.

Then it's all over...

It's all over. I thought that...

Poor Li-Lang.

Neron will laugh at her.

He will beat her to a pulp.

Maybe he will kill her.

Good night. Or maybe I

should say good morning

since dawn from her rosy roof

already knocks at the windows.

It's Neron. He's going

to kill both of us!

But what's biting the young tart?

Come on, scram to the corridor.

Mr and I have some things to talk about.

Women are impossible, don't you think?

But between honest men we should

find a way to settle things Mr Orlac.

You know who I am?

Stephen Orlac.

Chopin, Listz, Debussy...

I spent unforgettable

evenings thanks to you.

When I read the story of

your accident in the newspapers...

I told myself, it's too awful,

there's no justice in this world.

Then I felt reassured.

I learnt that you were in good hands.

Professor Votchek.

An ace.

He took care of...

someone I was well acquainted with.

Poor Louis.

Poor Vasseur.

Vasseur?

He was my friend.

Mr Orlac...

In memory of the

unfortunate Louis Vasseur

allow me to shake his hand.

- My darling, I'm disturbing you...

- Of course.

How such a beautiful wife

could not be a disturbance?

Come here. Disturb me. I love it.

Stephen, it's almost noon.

There is no time for the brave.

Saved by the gong.

A telegram to Mr Orlac.

It's from Maurice Seidelman.

Your impresario from London.

A course of recitals for the next month.

Still five minutes.

I'm going in the audience.

You know what I'm wishing you?

Come back at the interlude.

You will tell me what they say.

Yes and I will bring you godfather.

There Sir. Not a single grain

of dust anymore.

Thank you.

I was never out of my suit

such a long time before.

You will catch up time.

I smell a success for tonight.

And me I smell mothballs!

Too bad. Maybe it will

be my lucky charm.

Come in.

So? I'm just checking if you're

ready and if you feel alright.

I'm fine, thank you.

And the receipts?

Smashing! You had any doubt?

It's wonderful.

I hope they won't be disappointed.

Anxious?

Not really.

And you?

Me?

Not tonight.

I'm coming back in a minute.

A messenger just brought this. I

thought you would like to have it asap.

Do you still need my help?

I'm fine. Thank you.

Folding seats only. Are you ready?

A moment please Maurice.

Good God!

You're pale like a corpse!

You mean pale as a ghost.

You probably had nothing

to eat since your breakfast.

- It's true. -It's not wise from you.

Grave error.

You must eat. Food buries the worries.

"The condemned first ate and drink.

Then he proudly walked toward the scaffold. "

A glass of good Brandy is always

prescribed in these occasions.

No thanks.

Are you sure?

Well, let's go then.

Stephen, you're not feeling well?

I'm calling a Doctor.

- Where can he be?

- Let's give him 10 minutes.

I don't understand. Before the recital

he was full of hope, confident in himself.

Stephen is highly strung, isn't he?

Like all artists.

Not all of them.

Has he already give you other

grounds for concern?

Never.

Uncle Francis...

Let's talk about

something else please.

On the contrary. Continue.

- Pretend I'm not here.

- Stephen, I was so afraid.

You were wrong.

Critics will laud my genius.

Since nowadays you must make

a scandal to be declared a genius.

I can imagine Seidelman's face

reimbursing every ticket.

It's him now needing a Doctor.

Stephen, explain what happened.

I didn't expect an evening like this one.

Me neither.

Dear Stephen...

I know you don't like

Doctors in general and

psychiatrists in particular

but I think I can help you.

Why not coming to ask my

advice one of these days?

Or one of my colleagues if you prefer.

You should do that Stephen.

No thanks.

I made my own diagnosis.

I don't need yours.

I'm asking a cab for you Doctor?

No thanks. I have my car.

It's just as well.

I need some sleep.

And you too I believe.

Good night Stephen.

Good night.

Poor godfather. You were

not very kind with him.

- With you neither.

- It doesn't matter with me.

I'm your wife.

And I love you Stephen.

Hello?

Am I speaking to Louis Vasseur?

What do you say?

- Who do you want?

- Louis Vasseur.

You're on the telephone? Who's

calling at this hour of the night?

It's no-one.

A wrong number.

Mrs?

- Am I at Mr Orlac's apartment?

- He's outside.

- Are you Mrs Orlac? -Yes.

I have to speak to you then.

I'm sorry to bother you

but it's very important.

Please come in, Mrs.

- Sit down.

- Thank you Mrs.

- You must think I'm an intruder. -Tell

me at least your reason for being here.

My poor husband died

almost one year ago.

In very dramatic circumstances.

- You have my sympathy Mrs but...

- All this is so painful...

You need something.

A glass of water maybe?

A glass of water will be fine.

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