The Dark Palace

No, Qui

But Qui

He himself had felt everything that was expressed in that brooding presence.

And so the film began with a rift between the lovers. In the scenes that followed, set in a city Qui

Meanwhile, Eloise – or rather, the character she was playing – took to the stage and pursued a career in the dramatic arts. And it seemed she was a great success. Garlands were hurled at her feet. She was shown in her dressing room after a performance as Cleopatra, surrounded by the gifts and cards of admirers.

Qui

The storyline reverted to Eloise’s former lover, whose descent into ruin and disgrace had evidently progressed. A title screen informed the audience that he had lost his fortune and been forced to resign his commission from the army. When the camera caught up with him, he was living the life of a pe

The disgraced cavalry officer fled the boarding house in panic, having first helped himself to the coins in the dead man’s pockets, and the bank notes from his safe.

As he trudged the banks of a river, which Qui

To escape this relentless recrimination, he took refuge in a beer cellar and bawdy house. But the eyes pursued him, and were cleverly superimposed over the eyes of every woman he encountered. Even the prostitute who led him up to a squalid bedroom. She lay back on the bed and looked up at him with Eloise’s eyes – in fact, she had become Eloise. There was only one thing he could do. Qui

The band whipped themselves into a frenzy as the killer made his escape.

And then the shocking revelation: the camera returned to a close up of the prostitute’s face; both her eyes had been removed.

There were screams from the audience. Even Qui

The music then became abruptly celebratory. Something about it suggested the tolling of church bells.

It seemed to be snowing. And then the snow was revealed as confetti.

Eloise was coming out of a church, newly married to the Count of Somewhere or Other. Her eyes were hidden behind a bridal veil.

A shadowy figure attached itself to the edge of the crowd of well-wishers. Qui

The couple climbed into an open carriage. The camera picked out the sinister onlooker among those celebrating their departure. The bride’s former lover had moved into broad daylight now, so it was possible to see that he was dressed in well-tailored clothes that gave the impression of affluence; certainly he no longer cut the disreputable figure of a drunkard. The money he had stolen from the Jew had evidently enabled him to set himself up. Ironically, the full beard gave him a distinctly Jewish appearance and he looked strikingly similar to the man he had murdered. For the first time Qui

The carriage pulled away with a lurch. The camera watched it into the distance. The sense of peril was suspended momentarily as a brief, cheery scherzo played. But the sequence closed with a reprise of the killer’s face. The scherzo fell apart into a low, inarticulate rumbling of dread.

The film caught up with the newly-weds in a train compartment. The groom was reading a newspaper. An inter-title flashed the headline to the audience: POLICE IN DARK OVER GRUESOME MURDERS. VICTIMS’ EYES REMOVED.

Sensing his bride’s interest in the morbid article, he hurriedly folded the paper away and began to make love to her, with kisses on her hands, wrists and neck. Her eyelids fluttered in delight. The audience was once again treated to a close-up of her magnetic eyes.

A ticket collector entered the compartment. Qui

He was watching a dream, he realized. And if he accepted it as that, then whatever happened in the darkness made sense.

For example, there was no point in asking, How was it possible that Eloise did not recognize the man she had once loved? By the conventions of the kinematic picture play, it was enough for a character to put on a false beard for him to become utterly unrecognizable.

Of course, the real point, as Qui

All of this made absolute sense to Qui