The Devils

His Majesty has triumphed again!

I did pale beside the radiance of His Majesty.

I didn't know she was interested in religion.

I wonder who His Majesty will favour today'?

What divine benevolence.

- I haven't seen her at court before. - What some people will do.

Really. Provincial bitch.

Encore! Encore! Encore!

A most original conception, Your Majesty,

the birth of Venus.

I pray that I may assist you in the birth of a new France,

where Church and State are one.

Mm.

And may the Protestant be driven from the land.

Come on, you Protestant bastards!

Come on, keep moving!

Put your back into it!

Move!

Move!

Get on! Come on, there! Move!

I won't tell you again. Pull, you Protestant pigs! Pull!

Push it!

The religious wars

are over.

Catholic no longer fights

with Protestant.

We have survived.

And we owe our survival

to the wisdom and to the humanity

of one man,

Georges de Sainte Marthe,

Governor of Loudun.

For it was he who prevailed upon all faiths alike

to keep the peace.

And thus saved our city from self-destruction.

Other towns were less fortunate.

And now our friend has been killed by the plague.

People of Loudun,

as often as you see our city walls

standing, still proud and erect,

no matter what your faith,

then surely you must feel a need

to build a temple in your hearts

in remembrance of he who preserved them for you.

- Amen. - Amen.

- Oh, hurry up, it's my turn now! - it's not! I haven't seen anything yet.

If they don't hurry, he'll be gone!

Is he as handsome as they say'?

Oh, I can't see...

Yes! I can see the procession. It's coming up the steps!

But I can't see whether he's handsome yet.

Yes! I can see him!

He's the most beautiful man in the world!

Sister Agnes! Sister Agnes!

Sister Agnes! Sister Agnes! Sister Agnes!

Why have you left your devotions'?

They were watching Father Grandier.

We wanted to see the funeral procession

of Monsieur Sainte Marthe, Reverend Mother.

Satan is ever-ready to seduce us with sensual delights.

Your prayers for Sainte Marthe will be the more zealous

for not seeing his funeral.

That is the strength of the enclosed order.

Yes, I know, Reverend Mother, but it was a solemn Requiem

and the Cardinal would have given us a dispensation to attend.

The powers of your uncle the Cardinal are not in dispute, Sister Agnes.

You are not satisfied with the contemplative life.

You should have joined the Poor Clares, nursed the victims of the plague,

scrubbed out their vermin-ridden hovels.

- But Mother, I love our order. - Then you shall combine the two,

scrub out the convent from top to bottom on your knees

and pray for the soul of the dead man at the same time.

Every Tuesday afternoon, an hour in bed

with the lace-maker's widow, then off to take confession.

I mean, the hypocrisy of it.

It's no worse than his penitents, the pretty ones, anyway.

They do it right there, in the sacristy, almost in front of

the blessed sacrament.

Grandier could have me anywhere, even on the Holy Altar itself.

Shh! That's sacrilege! Look, there he is!

Now, there's a man well worth going to Hell for, eh'?

Don't look at me! Don't look at me! Don't look at me!

I'm beautiful! I'm beautiful!

Take away my hump.

Take away my hump.

Take away my hump.

Christ, let me find a way to you.

Take me in your sacred arms.

Let the blood flow between us, uniting us.

Grandier.

Grandier.

Translate as you go, line by line.

"Pleasure in lust is nasty and short and sickness."

Weariness.

"And weariness follows on desire."

Go on.

Oh! I don't like it! I hate it.

Your father sends you here for instruction in Latin.

And we must not deceive him.

"But in everlasting leisure like this,

"lie still and kiss time away.

"No weariness and no shame.

"Now, then, and shall be all pleasure.

"No end to it.

"But an eternal beginning."

Why are you crying'?

I'm pregnant.

And so it ends.

You must learn to bear your cross with Christian fortitude, my child.

I'm frightened.

Yes, of course.

How can I own the child?

I am very frightened!

And there was such bravery in love, wasn't there, Phillipe?

All through those summer nights,

how unafraid we were each time we huddled down together.

Remember?

We laughed as we roused the animal.

- And now, it's devoured us. - Help me.

And we were to have been each other's salvation.

- Did I really believe it possible? - I love you.

Yes, I did believe it.

I remember leaving you one day, you'd been unusually adroit.

I was full of that indecent confidence which comes after perfect coupling.

As I went, I thought...

Honestly, I thought, the body can transcend its purpose.

It could become a thing of such purity

that it could be worshipped to the limits of imagination.

Everything is allowed. All is right.

And such perfection lends for an understanding of this

hideous state of existence.

But what is it now'? Hmm'?

An egg.

A thing of loneliness, weariness,

sickness.

Where is love'?

Where indeed?

Go to your father.

Tell him the truth.

Let him find some good man.

They exist.

Help me.

How can I help you'?

Hold my hand.

Like touching the dead, isn't it'?

Goodbye, Phillipe.

Don't be too long.

- Up your end. - He's leaking.

Don't you dare.

Bring out your dead!

They're all dead! They're all dying!

Father! Father, please come quickly.

The chemist and the surgeon, it's no good, Mother is dying!

A delicate dusting of pollen, nature's most fragrant balm,

eucalyptus pollen.

From the Greek kaluptos, covered flower protected by a cap.

A trap for the heroic hornet.

Hymenopterous healer.

A poison to exorcise poison.

Kill or cure!

Yesterday, powdered mistletoe. Black cherry water.

It's a recognised cure! Nobody ever complains!

Leeches! Dried vipers!

Sarsaparilla and poppy heads, and now what'?

Hornets'?

Mother, please!

And what fresh lunacy is this?

- A crocodile? - Schoolgirls walking two by two.

Simian reptile, corpuscular circulation, invaluable aid.

Not the crocodile!

Turn your face towards God, my daughter. Be glad. Be glad.

You stand on the threshold of everlasting life. I envy you.

Bring out your dead!

- Bring out your dead! - Bring out your dead!

- Bring out your dead! - Bring out your dead!

Let us pray for her together.

We commend to thee, O Lord, the soul of thy servant, Madame...

De Brou.

De Brou.

De Brou.

And although to this world she is dead, to thee may she still live.

And the sins she has committed in this life through...

through human frailty

do thou in thy merciful goodness

forgive.

- Amen. - Amen.

Where are you'?

Hiding among the corpses, are you'?

Come out, you coward! The dead shall not save you now.

- Where is he'? - Who'?

The priest! That desecrator of virtue, Grandier.

No woman in the entire town is safe from the lust of that man. Not one!

- Neither mother nor daughter. - Living or dead.

Necrophilia interruptus.

Virga distracta. Whores.

He stinks of sanctimonious whores.

Enough, sir. You slander my daughter.

- He's inside the house, Mr Magistrate. - He's upstairs, inside the house.

There he is!

Despoiler of my child, my innocent lamb!