Quills

DEAR READER, I'VE A NAUGHTY LITTLE TALE TO TELL,

PLUCKED FROM THE PAGES OF HISTORY--

TARTED UP, TRUE--

BUT GUARANTEED TO STIMULATE THE SENSES.

THE STORY OF MADEMOISELLE RENARE;

A RAVISHING, YOUNG ARISTOCRAT WHOSE SEXUAL PROCLIVITIES...

RAN THE GAMUT FROM WINSOME TO PESTLE.

WHO DOESN'T DREAM OF INDULGING EVERY SPASM OF LUST?

FEEDING EACH DEPRAVED HUNGER?

OWING TO HER NOBLE BIRTH,

MADEMOISELLE RENARE WAS GRANTED FULL IMMUNITY TO DO JUST THAT:

INFLICTING PAIN AND PLEASURE WITH EQUAL ZEST.

UNTIL ONE DAY...

MADEMOISELLE FOUND HERSELF AT THE MERCY OF A MAN...

EVERY BIT AS PERVERSE AS SHE.

A MAN WHOSE SKILL IN THE ART OF PAIN...

EXCEEDED HER OWN.

- HOW EASILY, DEAR READER... -

ONE CHANGES FROM PREDATOR... NO.

TO PREY.

AND HOW SWIFTLY PLEASURE IS TAKEN FROM SOME...

AND GIVEN TO OTHERS.

THERE GOES ANOTHER ONE.

** [ Children Singing, French ]

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** [ Executioner Humming Children's Song ]

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** [ Writer Continues Humming ]

YOUR LINENS, PLEASE.

YOUR LINENS, PLEASE.

MOVE YOURSELF. WE'RE GOING OUTSIDE.

COME ON, PITOU. THAT'S RIGHT.

IT'S BREAKFAST TIME. GOOD MORNING. GOOD MORNING.

I'M GOING OUTSIDE. GO ON.

STOP DOING THAT. EVERYBODY UP.

YOUR LINENS, PLEASE.

** PSST.

- IT'S ME. -

CAREFUL. THE INK'S STILL WET.

NOW, HURRY.

THAT YOU, MADDIE?

YES, MOTHER. HERE ARE THE DIRTY ONES FOR YOU.

JUST, UH--

JUST TAKING THE BLEACHED ONES OUT TO DRY.

AREN'T YOU GONNA GIVE US A HAND THEN?

BOUCHON!

REMEMBER YOUR MANNERS.

HERE IT IS. IT'S THE LAST CHAPTER.

MONSIEUR MASSE SAYS HE'D LIKE ANOTHER MANUSCRIPT QUICK AS HE PLEASE.

HE CAN'T PRINT THEM FAST ENOUGH. I'LL PASS THE WORD ON.

I'LL PAY YOU ANOTHER VISIT WITH A SHARE OF THE PROFITS ONCE IT'S SOLD.

I'LL BE WAITING. PERHAPS, ONE DAY, YOU'LL TELL ME YOUR NAME.

[ Man Talking, Indistinct ]

ALL RIGHT, WE'RE ALL CLEAR.

THANK YOU. MARQUIS DE SADE'S JUSTINE.

LATEST EDITION, STRAIGHT FROM THE PRINTER'S. JUSTINE.

MARQUIS DE SADE. JUSTINE.

"OUR STORY CONCERNS A NYMPH NAMED JUSTINE;

"AS PRETTY A MAID AS EVER ENTERED THE NUNNERY,

"WITH A BODY SO FIRM AND RIPE... COME ON, BOY.

"IT SEEMED A SHAME TO COMMIT IT TO GOD.

ONE MORNING, THE BISHOP PLACED HIS HAND UPON HER THIGH."

"'HOLY FATHER,' CRIED SHE,

"'I'VE COME TO CONFESS MY SINS, NOT COMMIT THEM ANEW.'

"THE OLD PRIEST TURNED HER OVER ON HIS KNEE...

"AND LIFTED HER SKIRTS HIGH ABOVE HER HIPS,

"EXPOSING THE PINK FLESH OF HER BACKSIDE.

"THERE BETWEEN THE ORBS OF HER DIMPLED ASS...

"LAY A BLUSHING ROSEBUD...

"BEGGING TO BE... PLUCKED.

"BEFORE JUSTINE COULD WRESTLE FROM HIS GRASP,

"THIS MOST UNGODLY MAN TOOK A COMMUNION WAFER,

"THE BODY OF OUR LORD, JESUS CHRIST,

AND PLACED IT ON THE GIRL'S TWITCHING ORIFICE."

MUST I, YOUR MAJESTY?

"AS HE LOOSENED HIS MANHOOD FROM BENEATH HIS ROBES,

"THE BISHOP MUTTERED A LATIN PRAYER...

"AND THEN, WITH A MIGHTY THRUST,

DROVE IT INTO HER VERY ENTRAILS."

THE NOVEL'S LEWD SUBJECT MATTER AND ITS OVERRIPE STYLE...

REVEAL IT TO BE THE WORK OF THE MARQUIS DE SADE.

HE COMPOSES HIS PROSE FROM INSIDE A MADHOUSE.

ENOUGH! SEIZE EVERY COPY!

WE'LL TORCH THEM ALL ON THE PALACE LAWN IN FULL PUBLIC VIEW!

AS FOR THE AUTHOR, SHOOT HIM.

A NOTE OF CAUTION, SIRE.

WE ALL REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENED TO ROBESPIERRE, DANTON.

PUT THE MARQUIS TO DEATH AND HISTORY MIGHT EVEN REGARD YOU AS A DESPOT.

BUT I AM HISTORY.

OF COURSE, YOUR MAJESTY.

NEVERTHELESS, CURE THE MARQUIS DE SADE,

SUCCEED WHERE COUNTLESS...

PHYSICIANS AND PRIESTS HAVE FAILED--

NO ONE CAN FAULT NAPOLEON...

FOR BRINGING A MAN TO HIS SENSES.

MIGHT I SUGGEST...

AN APPRAISAL AT THE ASYLUM OF CHARENTON?

A RATHER NOTORIOUS INMATE IN HER CARE.

I HAVE THE PERFECT

DR. ROYER-COLLARD,

A DISTINGUISHED ALIENIST WHO'S A STAUNCHLY MORAL MAN...

OF IMPECCABLE CHARACTER...

AND IRON RESOLVE.

[ Man Screams, Water Splashes, Gurgling ]

MY COLLEAGUES HAVE CALLED ME OLD-FASHIONED,

EVEN BARBARIC.

BUT, HERE, WE FAVOR AN AGGRESSIVE COURSE OF TREATMENT.

QUITE.

I DO NOT SEEK POPULARITY OR RENOWN, MONSIEUR DELBENE. MINE IS A HIGHER MISSION.

TO TAKE GOD'S TINY BLUNDERS OF THOSE HE HAS FORSAKEN,

AND CONDITION THEM WITH THE SAME FORCE, THE SAME RIGOR...

ONE WOULD EMPLOY TO TRAIN A FERAL DOG OR A WILD STALLION.

THIS MAY NOT BE PRETTY,

BUT IT IS MERCY JUST THE SAME.

A FEW MORE MONTHS OF THIS, AND HE'LL BE FINE.

[ Screams, Gurgling ] IT IS THE EMPEROR'S HOPE...

THAT YOU BRING YOUR EXPERTISE, YOUR PROFICIENCY...

TO THE ASYLUM AT CHARENTON. I'M MUCH BETTER NOW.

CHARENTON? THE ADMINISTRATOR THERE IS QUITE WELL-LOVED, ISN'T HE?

AN IDEALIST. YOU'LL HAVE TO BE POLITIC.

YOU KNOW HOW I DEFINE "IDEALISM"?

YOUTH'S FINAL LUXURY.

NOT SO HARD. DON'T FORCE IT.

LET THE QUILL GUIDE YOU.

GOOD.

SLOWLY.

WE MUSTN'T JUST COPY THE WORDS.

IT'S IMPORTANT THAT WE KNOW WHAT THEY MEAN.

ST. AUGUSTINE TELLS US THAT ANGELS AND DEMONS WALK AMONG US ON THE EARTH...

AND THAT SOMETIMES THEY JOINTLY INHABIT THE SOUL OF A SINGLE MAN.

THEN HOW CAN WE KNOW...

WHO IS TRULY GOOD AND WHO IS EVIL?

WELL, WE CAN'T.

ALL WE CAN DO IS GUARD AGAINST OUR OWN CORRUPTION.

SO YOU'LL PRACTICE READING TONIGHT ON YOUR OWN FOR ME?

"AND SO THE PROFESSOR LIFTED CULLUM'S SKIRT...

"HIGH ABOVE HER WAIST.

"'LET ME BE YOUR TUTOR,' SAID HE, 'IN THE WAYS OF LOVE.'

"WITH THAT, HE SLID HER PANTALETS DOWN,

"DOWN, DOWN OVER HER KNEES.

"AND THERE, NESTLED BETWEEN HER LEGS...

"WAS PINK OF THE TULIP...

AS SLICK AS AN EEL--"

WE OUGHTN'T TO BE READING HIS NASTY STORIES.

NO ONE'S FORCING YOU TO LISTEN.

"HE GAZED UPON HER VENUS MOUND,

HER FLAXEN QUIM, THE WINKING EYE OF GOD."

YOU'VE BEEN IN HIS QUARTERS, HAVEN'T YOU?

ONCE OR TWICE.

I HEAR HE'S GOT A WHETSTONE AND A CHISEL, AND HE USES THEM TO SHARPEN HIS TEETH.

HE'S A WRITER, NOT A MADMAN.

- WHAT'S HE DOING IN HERE THEN? - MURDER.

THAT'S NOT SO.

HE WRITES BOOKS SO WICKED, SO BLACK WITH EVIL,

THAT ONE MAN KILLED HIS WIFE AFTER READING THEM.

AND TWO YOUNG MOTHERS MISCARRIED THEIR BABIES.

I'D SAY THAT'S MURDER ENOUGH.

IF YOU'RE GOING TO SLANDER HIM, THEN YOU DON'T DESERVE TO HEAR HIS STORIES.

I BELIEVE SHE'S SWEET ON HIM.

THAT'S WHAT I THINK. IT'S NOT THE MARQUIS SHE'S SWEET ON, IS IT, MADELEINE?

THEY'VE NO RIGHT SENDING SOMEONE TO SIT ON YOUR SHOULDER.

I WORK FOR YOU. I WON'T TAKE ORDERS FROM A STRANGER.

YOU NEEDN'T WORRY.

IT'S ADMINISTRATIVE, NOTHING MORE.

PLEASE DON'T EAT THE PAINT, PASQUAL.

AH, BRAVO, DAUPHIN.

IT'S FAR BETTER TO PAINT FIRES THAN TO SET THEM, ISN'T IT?

YES.

WONDERFUL.

FRESH LINENS.

FRESH LINENS.

I'M HUNGRY FOR A PROPER VISIT.

DON'T START. GO AHEAD. YOU'VE A KEY.

SLIP IT THROUGH MY TINY HOLE.

MARQUIS?

WHERE DID YOU GET TO THEN?

[ Marquis Clears Throat ]

MARQUIS?