 in the weird circle. In this cave, by the restless sea, we are met to call from out the past stories, strange, and weird. Bellkeeper, hold the bell, so all may know we are gathered again in the weird circle. Last, phantoms of a world gone by speak again the immortal tale, the last day of a condemned man. This is the voice of a man condemned, condemned by the law of the state and by freaky circumstance. I am, by all ordinary standards, a good citizen of France. I have fought and have borne apart. I have served my country, married and fathered a child, but all those things come to nothing in the self that condemned. Hour by hour I await my pardon, but it will not come. I know that. For this is the working of a curse, a curse placed upon my father to last through all the generations of his line, for having loved too well a woman who was promised to another man. Each day the specters of those who have gone before me in this cell accuse me and pass before me to disappoint all my hopes and to horrify me. They're here again, murderous thieves, all of them, Andre, Andre, your nerves. Sit down, my friend, control yourself. These things are only pictures in your mind. No, no, they're real Francois. They are the homeless spirits of the condemned, murderous and thieves who were in this cell in years gone by. They've come to haunt me to welcome me among the condemned. You know you've done nothing, really. Nothing that is a crime. But everyone thinks I have. My wife, my daughter, they've accused me. Think of it, Francois. They have accused me of my own murder and of a crime against my own family. Oh, Francois, I wouldn't even harm a hair of their precious heads. Then these ghosts are, they know of the curse. They know my release is impossible since the state has condemned me. Francois. Francois, what if some of them were as innocent as I am, condemned and executed on false evidence? Perhaps that's why they've come to welcome me to the guillotine. But you have every reason to hope for a pardon when the case is reviewed, Andre. You know you're innocent. Forget these ghosts, Andre. When you're free, they'll vanish from your mind. From your side of these bars, it is easy to say that. You're in prison only for being my companion. But in the two inches of space between ourselves, there is a world of difference. Here on my side lie the spirits of men condemned to death for crime. And on your side are the spirits of those who've served their sentences and gone again into the world of life. But you may yet be pardoned, Andre. Those faces, the way they looked at me. They looked at you? You saw their faces? Yes. For the first time today, the day set for my... my execution. I saw them. They carry their heads under their arms and the eyes of those heads looked at me. They seemed to tell me certainly that I soon would be with them. Oh, they are your imagination. You bring on those images by thinking about those names scratched on the wall of yourself. The scratchings of those dead men, yes. They were all here, here in this very cell. And they, Francois, they were all killed by the guillotine. The guillotine that they've constructed again in the courtyard out there for me. But they were murderers and thieves. That's the difference. You are not. But they, even they, have accepted me among their number. They know. I can tell by the way they looked at me that the guillotine won't be robbed. Oh, Francois. Francois, if she would only come if the child would repent, then they could not look at me so. She will, Andre. Be certain of that. Child will come and all will be pardoned. Oh, Francois. Even I know that my hopes are in vain. That is part of the curse. That my own wife and children will disown me in the hour of danger and will not even know me. And it works, Francois. The curse is working. You remember how it happened, Francois. You were with me then. We were walking along a road toward a village. We were laughing and talking and feeling happy and our new freedom. Oh, just think, Andre. Tomorrow we'll be home. Paris, our wives, everything Only a few days ago we were forgotten men, prisoners of war. We were forgotten after the war was over and our Napoleon was defeated. We were still left to rot. That's the price of defeat. I know, Francois, but we have escaped from those horrors. This is France. That should be enough, I suppose, but think of home, Francois. Home after so long. Perhaps after so long Paris will not be the way you imagine it. Perhaps it's changed. Paris? Paris does not change, not his home. The heart of one who loves you as well as my Lorraine. My wife Lorraine loves me. Let us stop for a moment and rest, Francois. Tell me, aren't you anxious to get back to your wife and your child? My wife is dead, Andre. And we never had a child. I'm sorry, Francois. I didn't know. It's long past now, Andre. Thank you, though, for your sympathy. But I do know that tomorrow or the next day when we do come to Paris after this long journey, you will feel happy. And I'm glad for you. Thank you, Francois. I'm glad for you because there's never been a better companion, Andre. Through everything, we've never had trouble. You are, I believe, the gentlest man I've ever met. And you too, Francois, I've been a good companion. But a tired one, eh? Perhaps. But I suppose anyone's entitled to that after what we've been through. But here, my stomach's crying for food. I'll go on into the village alone and see what I can get. No, it's better anyway. You're better at getting people to give a spoo that I am. Just think, after tomorrow, we'll never beg again. If you don't come back within a short time, I'll follow you into the village and help you, should you have fallen in trouble. Oh, there will be no trouble. I don't mind giving to poor, tired soldiers like us. I'll be back, Francois. I'll meet you here. Hello, little one. What is it you want? If you'll open the door a little wider, I can tell you. There? A little wider? Now, Monsieur? Is your mama at home? She is busy. I am a soldier, little one. I only want to ask you for some food. If you're a soldier, you need nothing. But you don't look like a soldier in those dirty clothes. I don't believe you. What is your name? Never mind. I don't like you. Go away. I wouldn't hurt you. I don't care. Somehow you look... Yes, you do look like another little girl I know. She'd be just about your age too. Who? Her name is Bernice. She lives in Paris. I lived in Paris once. This little girl is still there. I am a father. What's your name? Bernice. You're very much like this other little girl. How long have you been away from Paris? Only... Never mind. Go on away. But maybe you... No. No, you couldn't be my little girl, could you? Where is your papa? Papa is gone. Gone away for a long time. He died in the war. Oh. I'm sorry. Bernice, would you give me something to eat? No, I won't. Go to the market if you want something to eat. They have food there. Bernice! Yes, mama? Was there someone at the door? A nasty man who said he was a soldier. A soldier? He didn't look like a soldier to me. He was all dressed in awful old clothes. What did he want? He wanted something to eat. There. Oh, Bernice. You shouldn't have done that. Oh, well, it doesn't matter. He will find something. Is that the man going off down the street there? Yes. There's something about him. His back perhaps that... looks like your father. That's impossible. Andres did. We had the report from the general himself. Papa was a hero. You said so, mama. Yes. But sometimes, darling, I wish we hadn't moved from Paris quite so quickly after we heard. Perhaps... sometimes I think there might be a chance that he'd come back. But these aren't things for you to worry about. Darling, I want you to run down to market and buy a loaf of bread for lunch. We'll need it. Here's the money. And do be careful, darling. Yes, mama. Bread, she likes so much. What do you mean? I thought your mama was going away to visit in Lyon. Well, she is, monsieur, but she hasn't left yet. Oh. But did I hear you call this child Pernice Germain? Yes, that is her name. Pernice Germain? Then it is you. You are my little girl. Go away. I don't know you. Monsieur, leave the child alone. Can't you see that you're frightening her? Go away. Why won't you go away? The child is right. Get out now. Leave her alone. Very well. I'll go. Goodbye, little one. Thank heaven he's gone. Men like that are no good. Good riddance. I will get the bread that your mother likes. I will have to get it from the oven in the back room here. Pernice. Go away. Didn't you hear what the beggar said? But he's wrong. I am... I do not go. I tried to help you when I struggled so a minute ago. You tried to help me? I saw you steal that loaf of bread when I came into the shop. My mother said that I should have helped you before. I made a fuss so you could get away. My own daughter helping her father to steal. Then you do recognize your father. My father is dead. But your father is not dead, child. Look here, Pernice. Here on my sword. My name is engraved there. My father's father. Be quiet, child. Go away. Oh, you again. Help! You try to kill me. Help! Help! Hey, let him go. Let him go. What is this? Let me go. I've done nothing. He tried to kill me. Hold still there. Pick up. What did you do? Nothing. Look at the sword. You will find your answer. The truth is they are engraved on the blade. What truth? Get me that sword, Baker. Let me have a look at it. Here it is, sir. Now let me see. Andre Germain, officer in the Army of Napoleon. Where did you come by this, Monsieur? He's stolen. He told me so. Andre! What's going on? There are all these people here. Tell them who I am, Francois. Tell them who I am. Who are you? I was waiting in the fields for my friend to come back. We're on our way to Paris. Waiting in the fields? Murderers, thieves, that's what you are. Roaming around the countryside, plundering small villages. Come with me, both of you. Hold on. That's the voice of my wife. Of Lorraine. Oh, you are mad. Come along. Oh, Ben, he's my darling. What has happened? That man, come on. That man tried to cut me with his sword. He says, madame, that he is your husband. What? My husband? Lorraine, don't you know me? Don't you know me, Lorraine? Hey, Andre, have these few years changed me so much, Lorraine? No. No. You are not my husband. My Andre died. My Andre died years ago. Andre died. My Andre died years ago. I heard those words from the lips of my own wife. And I knew in that moment, as I now know, that it was the working of the curse. They have set four o'clock today is the hour of my end. For that is the hour when the rabble has the curiosity upon the spectacle. And I can only cling to the shred of hope that the child or her mother will come, will accept me as their own. But now it will not happen. I thought for a moment at the trial that the curse was broken. That man was at our door. He threatened my child then from what she says. Later, when I came looking for her at the market, I told you about it. That will be all, madam. Thank you. Bernice Germain, please take the stand. Bernice Germain, now remember, child, that all you say must be the truth. Tell us what happened on that day in the market when you met this man there. He tried to kill me with a sword. Why did he do this, Bernice? He said he was my father. But my father is dead. I know because Mermor said so. He wanted to show me a sword, he said. Then he swung it at me. And, uh... Is this the sword, Bernice? Yes. Did he take it out of its sheath? Oh, yes. He said it had writing on it. But I can't read, monsieur, so I don't know that. Is this the writing he showed you, Bernice? Yes, monsieur. Andre Germain, officer in the army of Napoleon. And then he swung it at me, monsieur. I screamed and he came after me. My own child sat there and accused me. But it was not that which held my attention. It was the look in the eyes of Lorraine, my wife. For a moment it seemed that she recognized me. Then, as the attorney reached the final words of his charge to the court, she looked at me again as a stranger, a criminal. I wanted to murder this child, but of murder of a fellow officer on the field of battle. His companion, you must find guilty of aiding in the attempted crime. Monsieur! Yes, Lorraine? I don't know why you call me by my first name, monsieur. But I did not wish to have you so seriously charged. Your punishment for attempting to kill my child? I wanted that. But the other charge? No. For I know, I know well that my André died honorably on the field of battle. But I, Lorraine, I am André. Don't you recognize me? Don't you know me? I will do everything I can to have you acquitted of the charge of his murder, monsieur. But André is dead. My cell was like a stone coffin. My bed d'only a pallet of damp straw. And in the room I could feel the spirit of those who had gone before me. I was separated from François by a thick wall, but there was a small opening through which we could talk. And so he could hear me that first time when the processions appeared before my eyes. François! François! What is it, André? What is it? The walls. They're covered with names. Here is d'Artoux, 1815. Thief and murderer. Poulin, 1818. He killed his father. Jean-Marthe, 1821. Poisoner. And I am among these thieves and murderers. Everyone who has been here in this cell have come to welcome me. André! André, stop, man! Be calm! You're letting your imagination run away with you. Dim, vague shapes, but they passed by me. They came to welcome me, François. They know that I am condemned. They accept me as one of them. But you have done nothing, André. Remember that. You have done nothing. The pardon will come. It will come. But I know better. I have waited this long time for a pardon while the machinery of state rolled slowly onward. The little document that is my request is to pardon this toss from one place to another and no one will pay it any heed. That is the way of the state and the way of the curse. There is but an hour left. And after that I fear that another figure will join that procession of shapes that comes across myself. André, is it me? Yes. Is there anything you wish in this last hour? No, nothing. Then stand forward here. Open your collar. Hmm. Madam Guillotine will need some help. Heh. Now you are ready. The priest will be in shortly to talk with you. Tell him not to bother. I have nothing to say. Well, that is for your own soul to say, André Jaimé. If you want to take that last walk alone, yours is the choice. André. Yes. Refuse to see the priest? Perhaps, Francois, perhaps I still have more hope than even you have for my release. Even now, after the crowd of blood-hungry watches have started to gather there in the courtyard, I still have hope. The child will come. Yes, André. She will come. Even now. What's happening out there, Francois? I can't see. The window is too high. Just think, Francois, I will shout when I go up those steps. You must go quickly, Bernice, quickly. Bernice, Lorraine, they've come. His cell is here, madam. You may not stay long. I don't want to memo. Go quickly, Bernice. Go up to the bars. Here, come along. Bernice, my child. Yes. It is different. It is dark in here. Lorraine, Bernice, my child says something. The child thought, monsieur. Memo. Bernice, say something. Bernice, Lorraine. No, Memo, no. The child thought, monsieur, that perhaps she had been mistaken. But you, Lorraine, you must know me. No, monsieur. Bernice nor I was wrong. My husband died on the battlefields. My Andre is mourned as a hero of France. No, monsieur. You couldn't possibly be that man. Now, indeed, I am condemned. She knew me, but she would not recognize me. But you are not guilty, Andre. Remember that. But they do not believe that. François. What is it, Andre? They are coming again. They are coming back. No, no, no. They've gone, Andre. They won't be back. It's hopeless. They will never go. They know that I'll be with them. Andre. The ghosts. The condemned dead. They are coming for me now. Look, François. They are here. Castan. A hundred others. They are coming for me. Look, François. They are here, all of them. They carry their heads. The mouths are smiling. The mouths are smiling at me. They are beckoning. They want me. Me, François. Andre, stop! Stop! They are passing by me, François. And beckons as he goes. Then... Then they wait when they are passed. And look back. François. They are waiting. It is another figure that they're waiting for, François. Look, he's coming now. A new one. It is me, François. It is my figure coming. Coming to join the others. It's time now, Andre Germain. Yes. It's time now. It's time. I'm with them already. They need wait no longer. The curse is finished. From the time-worn pages of the past, we have brought you the story The Last Day of a Condemned Man. The Last Day of a Condemned Man. The Last Day of a Condemned Man. The Last Day of a Condemned Man. The Last Day of a Condemned Man. Bellkeeper. Toll the bell.