 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. The world gone by, speak again the immortal tale, the phantom picture. The works of our greatest Italian artists of today. You, the most renowned art critics in the kingdom, will choose tonight that work which is to hang in the pity gallery beside Raphael, Da Vinci, Michelangelo, the classic masterpieces of Italy. Weigh your decision carefully, gentlemen. Thank you. Hello, you wanted to see me? Yes, yes, Dr. Ghana. Please close the door. Yes, but what hurry, please? See, here, stop, push it. What's wrong with you? Who's out there? Is someone following you? No, no. Well, then why do you keep looking back over your shoulder? Oh, that I, I'd have a painting. Oh, see, here, now stop this foolishness. If you're hungry, go to the kitchen. And if it's money you want, here's a sum to buy you lodging. I must get back to my guest. No, wait, please. I haven't time. The whole kingdom awaits the decision of those critics in there. The choice of the painting which will hang in the gallery beside the masters is being made by them. Paintings? Masters? They call that art? They don't know what real art is. Here, look at... Oh, really now, this is no amateur competition. Amateur. See, see here, who are you? And why do you keep looking out of that window? Is this a stolen canvas? No, no, it's mine. You don't know me, do you? But maybe you will when you see my painting. Watch closely now. There. Oh, now do you know me? Take a good look. What? What is it? Study it. Can it... Can it be a... Well, it is a face, a human face. Yes. It's ghastly. Drop the claw. See, you can't take your eyes off it. Now do you recognize me? No. Look again. Study the painting carefully. Such a subject. It's vulgar. This is a painting worthy to hang in the gallery. This is a really great work of art, my greatest. No painting with a subject like that can be a great work of art. It is a masterpiece, I tell you, and you must buy it. Buy that? Yes. Well, you're positively mad. Why, I can't buy it. That is too frightful. You must. I need the money, Dr. Garnaud. Now, tonight, you're the only one who can help me. But I... No, wait. Before you answer, I must tell you all this. It's driving me mad. I must tell someone. I'm hunted, traveling by night, sleeping in haystacks in the hills by day, foraging for food up in the mountains, not daring to risk showing myself in town. And all the time, haunted by this, this face you see here, hours on end, waking up at night to see it staring at me, seeing it in the food I eat, I tell you, it's driving me insane, insane, I tell you. Long ago, though, when I left Naples, it was mid-summer then, when I stowed away on a bark in Naples' harbor. Little did I realize then what the future held for me. Yes, and of the new life which awaited me in general. Oh, Bravo. That is the exact likeness of the organ grinder to the very last hair of his moustache. Oh, Signore, you have great talent. Oh, not yet. Or I wouldn't be painting on sidewalks for my bread and meat, but I shall be great someday. Someday you shall, if you receive the proper training. Oh, when I can afford it, I shall seek a great artist to teach me. But why pay for your training? I will teach you for nothing. You? And who are you? Oh, look closely, my boy. Don't you recognize me? Are you... Is it possible you are Pasquale, the celebrated portrait painter? Another. And you will teach me for nothing? Oh, how can I ever thank you? Oh, don't. Come along now. Well, to my studio, of course. You are a pupil of mine. Come along. It's not far. A simple but comfortable place on the edge of the city, away from all the noise and confusion, away from colonnades and mammoth terraces where a man can really work. Oh, I still don't understand why you're doing this. Well, it's really very simple. I'm an old man now, old and famous, and I have more orders for work than I can possibly take care of. It's about time I hire an assistant. You mean it means a lot of hard work? You see, my heart is not what it should be. I can't work like I used to. Ah, yes, you'll have to work hard. Oh, I can do that all right. Just think a chance to study under the great... Ah, don't forget, though, I shall use you to good end. Ah, yes, you look like a clean cut young fellow. Maybe you'll have a good influence on my son, Filippo. He's 19. About your age, I would say, and a thoroughgoing rascal in your industry will set him a good example, I hope. I shall do my best, sir. And then too, before long, you may meet my daughter, Bianca, when she returns to the seminary. Oh, come along. Come along, we shall be late for dinner. Oh, I'll tell you. Yes? Come here for a moment. Good morning, Pascal. Oh, you're looking better this morning. Oh, and I feel better after that last attack. Oh, what did the doctor say? Oh, it'll be easy. That's all. Heart won't stand excitement. Oh, how is that portrait for the depressed family coming? Oh, it's almost finished. Another five hours, perhaps. Well, let it be for now. I have a rush portrait to do for Gattano's to hang in the palace at the Strudder Balbey. You get on it right away. Bianca will sit for you. Did you get it away? Where is she, anyway? Oh, she's out picking flowers, I suppose. That's all she seems to do, since she came back from the seminary. Oh, she has the soul of a poet. Besides, the walks and the pressure are good for her. Oh, so you like her, don't you? I... Well, sir, you'll have to admit she is very beautiful. Oh, I am willing to say she is. After all, I am her father. But it's good to have other people agree with me, especially young, handsome men. Now, yes, she is a good girl and proud to be her father. I wish... Oh, dear, I wish I could say the same about Philippo. No, Pasquale, you mustn't say that. But it is the truth. He came home drunk again last night, lost some more money at gambling. That just doesn't seem to be anything we can do with him, does there? Oh, I'm sorry, sir. Oh, there, there, it's all right. You've tried your best. You run along now and find Bianca and be sure to keep your mind on the painting. Yes, but you are already famous, Pasquale. Must you accept another commission? Oh, one does not do murals in the Vatican every day, Artavio. Nor have pictures hung in St. Peter's. And besides, we are in sad financial straits at the moment. Oh, Pasquale, why didn't you tell me? What... No, it's Philippo. Came home drunk again last night. Ah, and another spree. This time he sold all the paintings in the studio. All of them? Yes, debts, debts, debts. He'll have us all beggars with his high life. Well, I... Pasquale... I have never told you, but I have been sending some of my work out to Florence under an assumed name, of course. I took the name of Cattio. Cattio? Well, I have a little something saved. You know how I feel toward Bianca? No, no, no, no. I would not think of it. I'll put a stop to this once for all, even if I must have my own son jailed. You're sure you want me to make the trick? Oh, yes, yes, indeed. You should complete the plans and estimates and be back from Rome within two weeks. And then when it's all settled, we'll tell Bianca. What about Philippo? Don't you think... No, no, no, no. You get started. I can handle him myself. There he is coming up the walk now. Oh, I wish my health permitted me to go with you. But remember, the painting for St. Peter's should be similar to my Madonna, which is in the church of the Nancyata here in Genoa. I won't forget. Say goodbye to Bianca for me. Yes, I shall. Goodbye to you. Now, the safe journey and hurry back. Philippo, this is the last straw. If you don't get the money back for those paintings, I shall turn you over to the police. You wouldn't dare. Oh, yes, I would, and I'm going to. No, you won't. I would cause a scandal and you're too famous to want that. You have been using my good name all your life to run up debts, leading a wild life. Haven't you any sense of dignity? You're a healthy young man. You're an old fool to think I would do that. Philippo, I'm still your father. You're still an old fool. I don't mind the life I lead, so long as I don't have to work for a living. My own son. I could kill you with my own bare hands for talking like that. Father, Father, stand back. What are you going to do? My own son. Get back. Get back. Let me go. Let me go. I tell you. Let me go. Try to attack me, will you? That ought to show you. Father. Father, get up. Father. Packages, Philippo. There. Where's Father? Philippo, what's wrong? Where's Father? In there. On the floor. His heart. Oh, no. Speak to me. Oh, what happened? I... I heard Octavia quarreling with him. I hurried in and found Father lying there on the floor. Octavia. I searched all over Genoa for you. It's you. Go away. Go away, please. But I... You heard her. Go away. You killed my father. Killed? Have you lost your senses? Your father dead? Yes. I don't believe it. Philippo, say it's not true. It's true enough. He died of a heart attack after you quarreled with him. After I quarreled with him? Oh, don't act so surprised. Go away now. Can't you see Bianco wants nothing more to do with you? Bianco, look at me. You don't believe that I killed your father? Yes, I do. And my heart... Here, it's dead. No, don't say that. It can't be true. You don't really believe that... I have nothing more to say to you. Now will you leave? Nothing more to say. Philippo, you're responsible for all this, you and your lies. Yes, you even told me you knew nothing of Bianco's whereabouts when I met you on the street. If I hadn't followed you here, I would have never seen Bianco. No, I wouldn't have seen her. You and your lies. Put down that knife! No, no, don't! Help! That will close your lying mouth. Shove those lying words! Put down that knife! Put down your stuff! All right, sir. We have one left on the third floor. Does it face the street? Yes. The corner room. No, no, no, I can't stand to be hemmed in. Are there any fire exits going past the windows? No, I'm sorry. Never mind, so much the better. Someone else in your party? No, no, no, no, show me the room, please. Are you looking over your shoulder? I thought the room, man. I want to sleep. Yes, sir, yes, sir. Right this way, please. Here it is. Thank you. It's a very comfortable room. Now, if you want anything, just ring. No. What is it, sir? What's wrong? It's nothing. I thought I saw someone. Oh, why do you draw the curtains? I don't like to have people looking in my windows. But you're on the third floor and across the street there. Those are business houses. You say there are no fire exits outside the window? No, none at all. That will be all. Such a clear night. You really need some air and such a beautifully full moon. I look after my own health if you don't mind. I said that will be all. I'm sorry, sir. Good night. Just a minute, sir. How far are we from the center of town? Six miles. The Apennines are that way to the west. We're on the outskates of Genoa here. Thank you. Good night. You want to be called in the morning? No, no, no. I'll be up early. Very well, sir. Good night. At last, alone in this room, I'm safe here. The police will search. They will not know who killed Philippo. They will not know unless, unless. The uncle will tell. You didn't think of that, did you? You must leave. You must get out of Genoa, now, at once. Yes. Yes. Now, at once, I must. Back to the mountains. I'll be free in the mountains. In the face, it cannot follow me there. No, it cannot follow me there. Six days in this wilderness. Water. A brook, by promise. It's parched. Now I can drink. Now, at last, I can take a drink. Like goodness for this brook. No. No, I have no scar. Look closer there on your right cheek. It is. It is a scar. But it can't be. I never had one. No, you didn't, did you? But remember, he had one. Yes. Behind you. Look. You? No. No, there's no one there. The reflection in the brook. That is my face. The scar. Blonde. Blonde. My hair was blonde. My hair was blonde. His was like blonde hair. He had blonde hair. The scar. My hair turned. My hair turned. It haunts me. It's face. It haunts me. Everything about his face. Everything about him even out here. I must get out of these mountains before I go mad, mad. I'm sitting in the mountains. I'm sitting in the distance. It's a bit flourished. Campanella, it must be flourished. There must be risk going down. There must be risk going down. I can't bear it up here any longer. I can't bear it. I can't. I can't. Dr. Bichetti. Yes? Come in. Here, sit down. Cigarette? No, no. No, thank you. You mind if I smoke? No, no, no, I... Doctor, I... No, no, don't be nervous. I'm your friend. Doctor, look at me. Yes, I am. Had my face look close? Well... What do you see? Refinement. Under a heavy beard, of course. Is that all? No marks of any sort, such as a... such as a scar? No, no scar. Are you sure? Positive. Then, Doctor, tell me, you're a great doctor. Why do I see a scar on the right side of my face every time I look at myself? How long have you seen this scar? Two weeks, a month, him. I've lost track of the exact time. It's horrible. The way it keeps haunting. Yes, yes, I begin to understand. Has an unusual occurrence overtaken your family? Someone close? Pass away? No, no. What business is that of yours? I came here to ask about the scar and not to be cross-examined like a... There, there, there, now I... I only want to help you. I'm sorry, Doctor. May I pass away, family? Oh, yes. My... my cousin, he died last month. And did he have a scar similar to the one you mentioned, I mean? No. Yes, he did, but perhaps I... Our minds are delicate mechanisms, sometimes hard to control. You, undoubtedly, were very attached to your cousin. Were you not? In a way, we saw a great deal of each other. And no doubt you think of him often, although why you should imagine that you see it? How long since you've worked? I see by the form the nurse gave you to fill out that you're an artist. Several months. No, I can't be sure, but that may explain this phenomenon in part. You should keep yourself occupied. Suppose we start by recommending work. Lots of it. You... Really think it will help me, Doctor? Definitely. Whatever you say. Just a minute. I know of someone. Do you do portraits, by the way? Portraits? Uh... Yes, yes. I can help you then. You can help me? How what? You're to stop at this address at 11 tomorrow. Ask for a senior fioro, as he'll be expecting you. He's had every artist in Florence do his portrait. He insists his likeness will hang in the palace before he dies. He's a very exacting sitter. Good luck. Doctor, I... I don't see why you trust me this way. I am a doctor. I like to think of myself as being one to help a fellow man. Now, you need help. Otherwise, you wouldn't be here. But what about your fee? After all, I just can't... You can take care of that after you've proven yourself with Senior Fioro. Yes, after you've satisfied the senior with your work. One moment more. Now, Senior Fioro. Steady. Oh, that'll be enough for today. One last touch. Oh, I... I... There. Oh, no, I must rest now. I have a dinner engagement. I'll have time to sit tomorrow in two. You know, Octavio, you're a gifted portraitist. The outline was very satisfactory. Now, let me see how you progress with the details. Oh, wouldn't you rather wait to see the completed work? Oh, no, nonsense. I'm proud of it thus far. Let me see it. If you insist. Oh. No, no, no. Oh, that's not me. I tried to... What have you done with my portrait? Senior... What have you done to it? Answer me. I don't know. You don't know. You've ruined it. That's what you've done. You've ruined the only picture I've ever considered buying. Look at it. Senior Fioro. Go ahead. Just look at it. Now, is that me I ask you? Is that me? No, Sioro. Are those my eyes? Is that my nose? My mouth? Do I have that scar? No. That picture is frightful. Take it out of here. I might have known Dr. Pigeny would send me one of his crazy patients. Take that away from here. You hear me? Get out. Don't ever let me set eyes on you again. Get out. I fled from the man's place, Dr. Giano, into the hills beyond Florence. There, in a simple hut, I set to work to erase forever from my mind a phantom face which haunted me constantly. I set to work to reproduce it on Senior Fioro's canvas. All the ghastly details of the face which stared up at me from the floor at that osterea in Genoa where my victim fell. The protruding eyes, the jagged scar, the teeth glistening like fangs. I poured all the skill of my art, all the power of my emotion into this last desperate attempt to free my soul. And here, here is the finished work. It represents the hours of torture and agony I've undergone. My atonement, my penance for my crime. You can see it in every brush stroke. You must help me, Dr. Giano. You must buy it. You must. One moment. One moment. Those lines, that distinctive brush stroke, excellence of detail, where this resembles, where this is Katya's work. You recognize it then? But of course. Then you are the one who sent those canvases from Genoa. You are Katya. Yes, Doctor. Now will you help me? Now will you buy it? But we have some of your work in there being judged. Oh, they are of minor importance. I must have the money. Wait, wait. Listen to me. Listen closely. You are a famous man. No, no, no one but you knows my real identity. Ah, but I'm not the only one who knows your real identity. Well, I must not be seen here. Wait now, wait. Don't run away. I know you're innocent. I believe everything you've told me. I knew your story even before you came here, but I didn't interrupt you because I wanted you to corroborate. Who told you? Bianca. You know Bianca? As a connoisseur of art, should I not know the daughter of the great Pascal? Wait here. Now don't go away. I'll be right back. Bianca, Bianca, come here. No, no. Come here, my dear. Bianca. He has come back. Octavio. Octavio. Bianca. Octavio, don't speak. I know all the facts now. I know a feliquous lies. Then you will not turn me over to the police for the murder. Listen to me, Octavio. We must go to the police. We must go to them and tell them everything, and I will stand by now. That is wise, Bianca. Octavio is a famous artist. The people love his work. The police will be convinced that he has done penance enough when they see the painting he has painted. By your face, I see that you've suffered much, Octavio. Come with me to the police and free yourself from your pain. You have to be really free, a free man. I will stand by you. I know you will be free. I have regained my strength already, Bianca. Do I have anything to fear if you will stand beside me? Listen. Listen, don't you hear them? They've chosen your painting. Come on, Octavio. Walk with me into the gallery and accept their acclaim. From the time worn pages of the past, we have brought you the phantom picture. Bell Keeper, go!