Total Eclipse Page #5

slanderously invented...

by my wife and her family.

Take off your trousers

and lie down on this, face down.

Both doctors have testified...

that on the basis

of their examination...

they are satisfied

you have recently indulged...

in both

active and passive sodomy.

Have they?

Do you deny you're

a practicing sodomist?

The word is sodomite.

Whatever the word may be,

the activity it describes...

is not one which is

encouraged in Brussels.

Paul Verlaine,

the court finds you guilty...

under Article 399

of the penal code...

of grievous bodily harm

and sentences you...

to a fine of two hundred francs

and two years imprisonment.

Now what's the matter?

Eat.

God.

What does it mean?

I don't understand

what it's supposed to mean.

It means exactly what it says.

Word for word.

No more, no less.

How are you?

Where's your rosary?

I thought you'd have a rosary.

Is it true in prison

they called you Jesus Christ?

It happened quite suddenly.

When the governor said Mathilde

had been granted her divorce...

I lay down

and looked at my life...

and saw there was nothing.

The only thing I could do

was submit myself to God...

ask him to forgive me...

and help me face

my situation and He did.

I promise you He did.

Now you want us to love

each other in Jesus?

I want you to follow my example.

I hope you didn't think

I might be angry with you.

No.

You didn't know

I'd be put away so long.

I certainly forgave you for it.

- I didn't forgive you.

- What for?

For missing.

Tell me. Why did you come here?

I want you to find

some direction in your life.

I want God to help you

achieve your aims.

Aims? I have no aims.

- Your writing.

- I've stopped writing.

I don't understand.

Let me put it another way.

I no longer write.

Why not?

Because I have

nothing more to say.

If I ever had anything

to say in the first place.

Nonsense.

I thought that what I did

would make a difference...

change the world.

I thought nothing

would ever be the same again.

But it's no good.

The world is too old,

and there's nothing new.

It's all been said.

Not in the way you can say it.

You have a gift.

It's no good throwing it away...

because your expectations

were unrealistic.

It's the expectations

you should change.

It's my gift.

I can do what I like with it.

But you can't give up.

You've hardly begun.

Don't worry.

I'll be very good at it.

No one will be able to touch me.

The master of silence.

But if we don't,

who's going to tell the truth?

Three years ago, you said

the truth was this and that.

Then along comes

the angel of the Lord...

and the truth is something

completely different.

But I've changed. Change...

I thought

that was what you wanted.

You've changed, have you?

Yes.

Then here, in the wilderness...

I offer you

an archetypal choice...

a choice between my body...

and my soul.

Choose.

Choose.

Your body.

Let the ninety-eight wounds

of our Savior burst and bleed.

Don't.

Listen... I sat in my cell...

and thought

how happy we could be.

It should be the easiest

thing in the world.

Why isn't it?

Because it never worked for us.

It will never work

for either of us.

I wanted us to go away together.

Yes.

What am I going to do?

You'll have to find

somebody else.

No.

No, no, I can't, please.

- Let go.

- Please.

Let go! Let go!

"I shall return

with limbs of steel...

"And dark skin and wrathful eye.

"I shall have money.

"I shall be cruel and idle.

"I'll be saved."

What?

Something he wrote.

The point is, Mr. Verlaine,

to speak frankly...

a number of poems

he wrote in extreme youth...

were quite indecent...

and in some cases, even profane.

He wouldn't have wished

to be remembered for them.

My mother and I plan

to destroy those works...

he would have destroyed himself.

I see.

What you may not know...

is that Arthur was converted.

Converted?

I reasoned with him...

and prayed for him

for weeks while he was ill...

and eventually

he asked to be confessed.

God kept him alive

long enough to repent...

so that he could be saved.

What was the matter with him?

He had a tumor on his knee.

That's very strange.

Why?

That's what I have...

a tumor on my knee.

He spent ten years

in Abyssinia.

He explored the whole country...

places no white man

had ever been...

and he ran

a trading post in Harar.

There was no doctor there...

but he wouldn't

leave his work.

He insisted on staying until

the pain became unbearable.

Then he designed

himself a litter...

and hired ten men

to carry him to the coast.

The journey

took more than two weeks.

In Africa...

did he write poetry?

No.

On.

On.

First, as soon as he arrived...

he went into the hospital

in Marseilles...

and they cut off his leg.

What's the matter?

Don't you see the carriages

driving in the sky?

I have to help people, you see.

It's my duty.

I know you do.

I don't want money

unless it's drenched in blood.

Maybe the sea

will wash away the stains.

Maybe.

There's one thing, Isabelle,

you must promise me.

It's very important.

Will you promise?

What?

Never let them amputate.

He would only

stay at home a month.

He kept saying he had to travel

back towards the sun...

that the sun would heal him.

Please, don't get up.

Let me see you to your hotel.

No, no. It was an honor...

to meet such

a distinguished poet.

A pleasure to meet you.

You have my card, don't you?

Will you send the manuscripts

to that address?

- Of course.

- Please don't forget.

We shall make a very careful

selection of what is to survive.

Good-bye.

Absinthe... two.

Tell me if you love me.

You know I'm very fond of you.

Do you love me?

Put your hand on the table.

What?

Put your hand on the table.

Palm upwards.

Since he died,

I see him every night...

my great and radiant sin.

We were always happy... always.

I remember.

I found it.

What?

Eternity.

It's the sun mingled...

with the sea.

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