The Red Violin Page #3

But I see it. I'm certain.

Yours is a Lazarus soul.

Yes, I see.

Well, put her through

when you can.

We're on hold.

You should tell her our story.

Explain its past.

Brother, please, she doesn't care.

She's doing her job.

But if you convince her...

- Father Viktor, good morning.

- Good morning.

This is Suzanne. They're just closing

lot 71. Can you hear the auctioneer?

Sold to the lady on my left.

Yes, I can hear him.

Suzanne, how do I tell you

when I want to...

Leave it to me, Sir.

Just tell me when you want to stop.

...a masterpiece of the Golden Age.

If she would give us the pleasure.

I feel helpless.

Isn't there something we can do?

Yes. We can pray.

This time the last order bid is at

US$ 250,000. Let's open the floor.

Who will start us off? US$ 260,000.

Good evening, Mr. Ruselsky.

US$ 270,000.

Suzanne, on the telephone.

US$ 280,000. Back to you, Sir.

US$ 300,000. I see you, Suzanne.

And then...

a man comes into your life.

A handsome man...

and intelligent. He'll seduce you

with his talent...

and worse. In short...

he's the Devil.

What a marvelous violin!

- What do you want?

- I was lured by the music by the heath.

Oh, yes? Maybe you can

go back the same way.

I'm your host.

This is my land.

Now I see. My mistake.

We will not be a trouble.

We'll be leaving here by nightfall.

That won't be necessary. I'm sure

we can come to some arrangement.

Excuse me, Sir.

I must ask you to leave.

We have an invitation.

You can read?

Personal invitation.

Come on in.

- Evening, Percy.

- Good evening, ma'am.

- In the dressing room, warming up.

- Not without me, I hope.

Victoria.

I need you.

I feel a composition coming on.

So do I.

Ladies and gentlemen,

if I can have your attention.

Mr. Pope has asked me to announce

he'll be performing this afternoon...

on an antique instrument

of the Italian school...

which has revitalized

his affections for the violin.

I hope that...

whets your appetite somewhat.

Mr. Pope, Sir, whenever you're...

- Darling!

- ... ready.

I'd like to play for you

a new composition...

which came to me recently...

in a moment of...

inspiration.

"How did it come to this?

Saints in heaven.

How did it happen to him?

An artist who could not be denied.

A poet, in fact. But a murderer?

No.

Yet the looking-glass image

was hard to refute.

His fingers and cuffs were still

ruddy ith gore, and as he watched...

in horror...

the speckles of blood seemed

to multiply before his eyes...

like maggots on a fetid corpse.

What would become of him now?

Where would he run to...

and where would he hide?

The options then

were depressingly few.

Indeed, his mind was

already racing...

east across the frozen continent... "

- Darling.

- "... and over the frozen steppes...

back to the refuge

of his childhood estate. "

- I have a theme I want to work out.

- "To Russia, the Cossack call... "

- That needs to be addressed.

- Can't you see I'm trying to work?

- You're so selfish.

- I had mutual inspiration in mind.

- Can't you see I don't need it? I was...

- My love, don't be angry.

- Oh, please.

- You've only yourself to blame.

It's your beauty that

summons the music.

And when it comes...

I must play.

Damn you.

Is this what you wanted?

Is this what you wanted?

"East, east, across

the frozen continent...

and over the frozen steppes back to

the refuge of his childhood estate.

To Russia, to Russia,

he heard the Cossack call. "

- Frederick.

- My darling.

My one inspiration.

- I have something terrible to tell you.

- Terrible?

- The worst.

- It must be most terrible...

for you to tell me now

and ruin this perfect moment.

Jack has killed the minister.

- It was an accident.

- I see.

He's now fled to Russia.

Self-imposed exile.

I see. You're leaving me.

I've never been there. I wouldn't know

what to write. I have to follow him.

- I can't go. I have concerts.

- I know, darling.

- Are you very angry?

- Why should I be?

Dearest Frederick, I havejust passed

the church where Jeffrey was baptized.

and I'm quickly approaching the

Rutherford Bridge. In other words...

darling, we have parted for under

ten minutes and already I'm lost.

I return to my writing in the hope

that these few honest words...

...might rejoin our lips...

- "Darling Victoria... "

"... Bring back your hands

to my shivering skin. "

"You trust in words and comfort of

letters in a way that I simply do not.

And no matter what, no words can

convince me that you are not gone. "

"Finally, my love,

it's Moscow at last...

and my very first night

was unspeakably dreary.

- Can one nation be so abysmal?"

- "What is this nonsense?"

- "Or is it because you are not here?"

- "I won't sigh for your woes.

If everything truly is as dismal as you

say, then heed my simple remedy. "

- "Frederick... "

- "Return at once, betrothed love. "

"... darling, I long for your touch. I

still seek your scent on my clothes. "

"I should have pinned you to the

mattress when last I had the chance.

Like you were the butterfly,

I was the pin. "

"Embroidered together,

heart against heart. "

"Victoria, listen.

Our moment is dying.

What is this nonsense? The music is

gone. Like you were the butterfly.

This impression

is passing, my love.

Where everything I said to you...

and everything I might ever say could

be contained in these two words.:

Come back, Victoria.

Come back. "

Do not write to me any more, love.

Ladies and gentlemen...

thank you for your patience

and understanding.

Unfortunately, I have

just received notice...

that Mr. Pope has been afflicted

by an illness...

and unfortunately cannot

be with us today.

Of course, we will refund

those who desire...

but for those who do stay, we are

pleased to play my arrangement...

of favorite English madrigals.

"Darling Frederick,

I have seen the truth at last.

Eternity has passed since we parted.

One full week without your letters...

and I am shriveling here

like a flower in the desert.

I will not suffer more. Are you not

reading as well as not writing?

Then you'll miss this crucial report.

I'm coming back, my love...

by any means I can,

tomorrow morning if I'm able.

Will you then forgive me, my love?

The wasted time, my selfish folly.

Will you take me

in your arms again...

and with one kiss eradicate each

hour apart from your embrace?

I long for your love.

I long for your touch.

We can't stay apart.

Victoria. "

Savage. Extreme, rude...

...cruel, not to trust!

- Victoria...

...Your sluttish muse.

- Who is she?

- Quiet!

- Victoria, please.

Don't try to explain.

It's not your fault.

Or yours.

Victoria, listen...

"Do not despair, Victoria.

This is the last page

of our correspondence.

I am only writing to let you know

of my plans for suicide...

by poison or drowning,

I've yet to decide.

All my estate I'm leaving to you.

I have some personal debts to honor,

but everything else will be yours.

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