The Ninth Gate
FARGAS, who has a slight limp, leads the way through two reception rooms, once imposing but now entirely bare and empty. By the dim light that filters through their dusty windows, CORSO observes the patches on the walls that indicate the former location of paintings, curtains, pieces of furniture, etc.
FARGAS: Home, sweet home!
He ushers CORSO into a large but sparsely furnished drawing room.
FARGAS (cont.): You won’t say no to a brandy, 1 take it?
He goes over to a side table and pours some cognac into two fine crystal glasses.
CORSO, meantime, is surveying the room. At the far end, a huge open fireplace. Two ill-assorted armchairs, a table, a sideboard, some candlesticks, a violin case – and books. They’re neatly stacked on the floor and the few pieces of furniture. CORSO has just discovered them when FARGAS comes over with the glasses. He puts his bag down and takes one.
CORSO: Thanks. (admiringly) Handsome glasses.
FARGAS: These are the only ones I have left.
CORSO looks around the room.
CORSO: Must have been a beautiful place.
FARGAS it was, but old families are like ancient civilizations: they wither and die.
He raises his glass in a silent toast. CORSO reciprocates. FARGAS gestures at the books.
FARGAS (cont.): There they are, eight hundred and thirty-four of them. A pity you didn’t see them in better times, in their bookcases. I used to have five thousand. These are the survivors.
CORSO, runs his fingers caressingly over a book.
CORSO: So this is the Fargas collection. Not quite as I imagined it.
FARGAS: C’est la vie, my friend. But I keep them in perfect condition, safe from damp, light, heat and rats. I dust and air them every day. it’s all I do do, in fact.
CORSO: What happened to the rest?
FARGAS: Sacrificed in a good cause. I had to sell them to preserve the others. Five or six books a year. Almost all the proceeds go to the state in taxes.
CORSO: Why don’t you sell up?
FARGAS: Sell the Fargas family estate? it’s obvious you’re an American, my friend. There are things you can’t be expected to understand.
CORSO continues to survey the books, fascinated.
CORSO: If you sold all these your financial problems would be over- (picks up a book and examines it) Look at this, Poliphilo, for example: a real gem!
He replaces it. FARGAS leans over and carefully adjusts the book until it’s precisely in its original position.
FARGAS: I know, but if I sold them all I’d have no reason to go on living. More brandy?
He heads for the bottle on the side table without waiting for a reply.
CORSO: What about ‘The Nine Gates’?
FARGAS (puzzled): What about it?
CORSO: That’s why I’m here.. I told you on the phone.
FARGAS: The phone? (pause) Yes, of course, I remember now. Forgive me. Of course, ‘The Nine Gates’.
He looks around several times as if trying to collect his thoughts, drains his cognac, and limps over to some books on a rug near the fireplace. FARGAS and CORSO kneel on the rug side by side. CORSO examines the books, which all deal with magic, alchemy and demonology.
FARGAS (cont.): Well, what do you think?
CORSO: Not bad.
FARGAS: Not bad indeed. These I will never sell. At least tan of them are exceedingly rare. Look, Plancy’s ‘Dictionary of Hell’, first edition, 1842, Leonardo Fioravanti’s ‘Compendi di Secreti’ of 1571- But this is what interests you, no?
He picks up a black book with a gold pentacle on the cover – the second copy of ‘The Nine Gates’ – and holds it out. CORSO takes it carefully and gets to his feet. FARGAS rises too.
FARGAS (cont.): There it is, in perfect condition. it has travelled the world for three-and-a-half centuries, yet it might have been printed yesterday.
CORSO takes the book over to a window. FARGAS follows.
CORSO: Is it in order? You haven’t detected anything unusual?
FARGAS: Unusual? No. The text is complete, the engravings too. Nine plus the title page, just as the catalogs state – just like the Kessler in Paris and the Telfer in New York.
CORSO it Isn’t the Telfer anymore. Telfer killed himself, but he sold his copy to Balkan first.
FARGAS: Balkan- If he sets his heart on a book, no price is too high-
He reflects for a moment, shaking his head and staring at the floor.
FARGAS (cont.): it’s strange he should have sent you here, if he already-
He breaks off as If something has just occurred to him. He points to CORSO’s bag.
FARGAS (cont.): You have it with you? May I see it?
CORSO fetches the book, and they go over to a table. FARGAS places the two copies side by side, bends over them.
FARGAS (cont.): Superb, beautiful, identical. Two of the only three that escaped the flames, reunited for the first time in over three centuries.
The shadows are lengthening. FARGAS reverently turns the pages of each book In turn, caresses the yellowing paper with his fingertips.
FARGAS (cont.): Look at this imperfection In the fourth line here – the damaged S. The same type, the same impression.
He turns both copies of ‘The Nine Gates’ over to reveal their backboards.
FARGAS (cont.): You see? If it weren’t for this slight discoloration on the back of my copy, one couldn’t tell them apart.
CORSO: If it’s all right with you, I’d like to stay awhile and study them in detail.
FARGAS (eyes him keenly): What are you looking for, Mr. Corso?
CORSO: I wish I knew.
FARGAS looks suddenly grave.
FARGAS: Some books are dangerous. Not to be opened with impunity.
CORSO (with equal gravity): Very true.
41. QUINTA FARGAS: DRAWING ROOM INT/DUSK
A fire is burning on the hearth. FARGAS, seated at a window, is practicing the violin. He repeats the same short piece over and over again, occasionally pausing to take a sip of brandy.
CORSO Is sitting at a table with both copies of ‘The Nine Gates’ open in front of him at the engraving of THE KNIGHT WITH A FINGER TO HIS LIPS. CORSO compares the two copies with the aid of his magnifying glass. They look identical.
CORSO turns over several pages in each book until he comes to THE HERMIT WITH THE KEYS, DOG, AND LANTERN. He compares the two copies. Again, no apparent difference.
He proceeds to a third engraving: A WAYFARER APPROACHING A BRIDGE WITH TWO GATE TOWERS AND AN ANGELIC ARCHER IN THE CLOUDS OVERHEAD. Another seemingly identical pair. Then he stops short and returns to the second engraving. it looks the same, but-
Then he spots it: in Balkan’s copy the keys are In the Hermit’s right hand, in Fargas’s copy In his left!
Fascinated by this discovery, CORSO peers closely at each signature In turn. Balkan’s reads ‘A.T.’, Fargas’s- ‘L.F.’
CORSO turns to an engraving of A JESTER OUTSIDE A MAZE WITH TWO ENTRANCES. Comparison of the two copies reveals that in Fargas’s copy one of the doorways is open; in Balkan’s it’s bricked up. The signatures, too, vary: ‘A.T.’ in one, ‘L.F.’ in the other.
CORSO (excitedly, under his breath): Now we’re getting somewhere …
An old-fashioned telephone bell starts ringing in the bowels of the house. CORSO looks up.
FARGAS doesn’t hear the bell immediately. He plays on for a bar or two, then pauses and listens with his head cocked. The telephone continues to ring. His chair scrapes the floorboards as he gets to his feet. He puts the violin down and limps out.
42. QUINTA FARGAS: DRAWING ROOM INT/NIGHT
CORSO’s open notebook now displays a chart consisting of two horizontal rows of nine boxes. One row is marked ‘BALKAN’, the other ‘FARGAS’.
CORSO is busy filling In the boxes with either ‘A.T.’ or ‘L.F.’
FARGAS reappears. He gives CORSO a friendly nod, returns to the window and launches Into the same old piece on his violin.
CORSO has now filled in all the boxes. He studies them for a moment, then rings all the ‘L.F.’s in red.
43. QUINTA FARGAS: GATEWAY, ROAD EXT/NIGHT
Under an owl’s vigilant gaze, CORSO shuts the gate. His breath Is visible as steam In the chilly night air. After a last backward look at the statue-bordered driveway and the neglected garden, he turns up his overcoat collar, settles his bag on his shoulder, and sets off down the road toward the lights of Sintra, which are visible in the distance. His footsteps re-echo from the wall that bounds the Fargas property.
Then it happens: he hasn’t gone far when two headlights snap on behind him. Simultaneously, the car starts up and takes off with a squeal of tires.
CORSO spins around. He stands there transfixed for a moment, then dodges behind a projecting buttress as the car hurtles past, missing him by a whisker.
The car, a big dark sedan, skids to a halt some twenty yards away. The driver’ s door opens and A TALL MAN gets out. He momentarily hesitates when he sees CORSO still on his feet.
Just then we hear a motor vehicle – a noisy one – rounding the next bend. The TALL MAN is captured by a beam of light. CORSO has seen him before: it’s the MUSTACHE.
The MUSTACHE decides to beat it. He dives back Into the car and takes off fast.
CORSO, trembling with shock, watches the tail lights recede and disappear. The sound of the approaching vehicle increases in volume. CORSO turns to stare at it.
Wobbling unsteadily along the road comes a lone PEASANT astride a ramshackle motorbike with a blown exhaust. The PEASANT honks as he goes by. CORSO retrieves his bag from the roadside.
44. SINTRA HOTEL EXT/NIGHT
CORSO enters a small hotel.
45. SINTRA HOTEL: RECEPTION, LOUNGE INT/NIGHT
CORSO, still looking pretty rocky, collects his key from the reception desk and sets off In the direction of the elevator.
Visible in the background Is the hotel lounge. TWO ELDERLY FEMALE TOURISTS, possibly retired English schoolmarms, are quietly conversing at one table while AN OVERWEIGHT GERMAN COUPLE sip cocktails at another.
CORSO, idly scanning the lounge as he makes for the elevator, stops short: a pair of legs In jeans and white sneakers are jutting from an inglenook fireplace in the far corner. He goes over to investigate.
THE GIRL Is snuggled up In an armchair with a book on her lap. He hesitates for a moment. She looks up.
CORSO: Hi. You didn’t say you were bound for Sintra.
THE GIRL Neither did you.
