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Name Of The Rose The CD1

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Having reached the end|of my sinner's life...
my hair now white...
I prepare to leave|on this parchment my testimony...
as to the wondrous|and terrible events...
I witnessed in my youth...
at the end of the year of 1327.
May God grant me|the wisdom and grace...
to be the faithful chronicler|of the happenings that tookplace...
in a remote abbey|in the dark north of ltaly.
An abbey whose name|it may seem, even now...
bias andprudent to omit.
May my hand not tremble|now that I start...
to relieve the past and|revive the feelings of uneasiness...
that opressed my heart|as we entered the battlements.
Should we tell him?
No. He will look|in the wrong places.
what if he learns it|of his own account?
You're overestimating|his talents.
There's only one authority|capable of investigating such matters.
The holly lnquisition.
What's your opinion,|venerable Jorge?
Dear brothers...
I leave such worldly|matters to younger men.
-Yes, master.|-To command nature...
one must learn|to obey it, huh?
So, return to the court,|turn the building on your left...
enter the court on you right.|You'll find the place you're in need of...
behind the third arch.
But you told me you'd never|been to this abbey.
When we arrived, I saw a|brother making this way so hazily.
But he left more slowly,|with an air of content.
Thank you, master.
On behalf of the Benedict Order..
I'm honored to welcome you|and your Franciscan brothers...
to our abbey.
The other delegates|have arrived?
Ubertino de Casale has been|here for some weeks...
the others are due tomorrow.
You must be very tired|after your long journey.
Not particularly.
You're not in need|of anything?
No, thank you.
Well... then l...
I beech you peace.
I'm sorry to see that|one of your brothers...
has recently gone|to God.
Yes, a terrible loss.
Brother Adelmo was one|of our finest illuminates.
-Not, Adelmo of Otranto?|-You knew him?
No, but I knew and|admired his work.
His humor and comic|images were almost infamous.
But he was said to be very young.
Ah, yes! Very young indeed.
An accident, no doubt.
Yes, as you say, an accident.
Well... that is l...
Brother William...
may I speak to you candidly?
You seem anxious to do so.
When I heard you were coming|to our abbey...
I thought it was an answer|to my prayers.
I said: "He's a man who has the|knowledge both of the human spirit...
and of the wilds of the evil one."
Brother Adelmo's death|has caused much...
spiritual|uneasy upon my flock.
This is my novice, Adso.
The youngest son of the|Baron de Melk.
Please, do continue.
We found the body|after a heavy storm...
horribly mutilated...
cast against a rock in|front of the tower...
under a window that was...|How should I say this?
-which was...|-which was found closed.
-Somebody told you?|-lf it was opened...
You'd not have mentioned|spiritual uneasy.
-He'd have fallen.|-Brother William...
the window can't be opened...
nor was the glass shattered.
There's no access|through the roof above.
I see. As you can't|find a natural explanation...
the monks suspect the|presence of supernatural forces.
I need the help of an|acute man such as you.
Acute in uncovering and|prudent, if necessary...
in covering up before|the papal delegates arrive.
You know I no longer deal|in such matters.
I'm reluctant to burden|you with my dilemma, but...
unless I can tranquilize|my flock...
I have no alternative but|turn to the lnquisition.
That is Ubertino de Casale...
one of the greatest spiritual|leaders of our Order.
Many revere him|as a living saint...
but others would have him|burnt as a heretic.
His book on the poverty|of the clergy...
isn't favorite|reading in the papal palace.
So, now he lives|in hiding.
Dear Franciscans...
you must leave|this place at once.
The devil's roaming this abbey!
Ubertino, it's, William.
Willian of Baskerville.
William is dead.
William... my son...
forgive me.
We lost trace ofyou|for so long!
I tried hard to be forgotten.
When we heard of your|troubles...
I prayed to our Virgin|for a miracle.
Your prayers met with a|favorable response.
This is my young novice,|Adso de Melk.
His father has entrusted|me his education and wealth.
Let him out of here at once!|Haven't you heard the devil...
is hurling beautiful|boys out of windows?
There was something feminine...
something diabolical...|about the young one who died.
He had the eyes of a girl...
seeking into course|with the devil.
Beware of this place.
The beast is still|among us.
I can sense him...|now... here...
within these very walls.|I'm afraid, William.
For you, for me.|For the outcome of this debate...
My son!|The times we're living!
Let's not frighten|our young friend.
She's beautiful, isn't she?
When a female...|by nature so perverted...
becomes sublime by holiness...
then she can be the|noble vehicle of grace.
Beautiful are the breasts...|which feed only one baby.
-I don't like this place.|-Really?
I find it thrillingly.|Come.
We must not allow ourselves|to be influenced...
by irrational rumors|of the antichrist.
Let's instead exercise|our brains...
and try to solve this enigma.
May you receive more in Heaven...
for what you've given in Earth.
My master trusted|Aristotle, the Greek philosopher...
and in his remarkable|logic intelligence.
Unhappily, my fears|were not...
mere phantoms|of my youthful imagination.
A rather dark end for such|a brilliant illuminate.
Another generous donation|by the Church to the poor.
What if it wasn't that tower|he fell from...
but somewhere over there and|the body rolled all the way down here?
No devil needed anymore.
There's more blood here.
That's where he fell from.
He jumped.
-Are you paying attention?|-Yes, he jumped.
Jumped? You mean that|he committed suicide?
Why else would someone go up|there in the middle of a rainstorm?
Not to admire the landscape.
Perhaps someone murdered him.
And then towed all the|way up there with the body?
Much easier to get rid of it|through that small door.
My dear Adso.|It seems elementary.
Do you think this is a place|abandoned by God?
Have you ever known a place|where God would've felt at home?
We pray, oh, mighty God,|that there are no grounds...
for suspecting the presence|of an evil spirit among us...
either of this world or another.
We praise our Lord|that the debate...
we are so greatly honored to host...
may now proceed|without a shadow of fear.
We also praise oh mighty|for sending us brother William...
whose experience and|previous duties...
although onerous to him...|has been of such service to us here.
May serenity and|spiritual peace...
reign once more|in our hearts.
A monk must be quiet.
He mustn't speak|what he's thinking...
until he's asked.
A monk mustn't laugh.
That's what fools are for...
who raise their voices in laughter.
Master, if I may ask what...
onerous duties was|the abbot talking about?
Were you not always a monk?
Even monks have past, Adso.
Now, try to sleep.
Yes, master.
There's sadness in wisdom.
The one who increases his knowledge...
also increases his suffering.
A calamity!
It was a calamity!
Father! A tragedy in the pigpen!
Come! Come quickly!
This one, I admit, didn't|commit suicide.
Venancius, the Greek translator!
I'm to blame. Had I not been so eager|to believe your convenient explanation...
this second tragedy|might've been prevented.
I'm convinced brother Adelmo|took his own life.
Whether this death is connected|with it. I intend to find.
"After the heavy storm,|with the second trumpet..."
"the sea became blood."
-And hold... there's blood here!|-The prophecy of the Apocalypse.
"With the third trumpet,|a burning star..."
"will fall in fountains of water'
The devil is here!
Grated stem bistort|for treating diarrhea.
As for onions, administered|in small quantities...
warm and moist, they help to|prolong the male erection.
In those who haven't taken|our vows, naturally.
Do you apply arsenic in|many circumstances?
Yes, indeed.
This effective remedy for|nervous disorders.
If taken in small doses.
And what if not in so small doses?
What was his function here?
He was our finest translator|of Greek.
Entirely devoted to the works|of Aristotle.
Was he in friendly terms with|the handsome Adelmo?
Yes. They worked together in|the escritoire.
But in a brotherly way|understand? Not like...
I mean... flesh can be tempted|according to nature...
or against nature.
And they weren't allowed to|this position... you see!
Watch out for Satan,|who comes to know your soul.
Death is supreme.
Contemplating my sanctuary?
There, we have the devil.
As ugly as Salvatore.
My little brother,|penitenziagite.
I didn't say that.
You said "penitenziagite".|I heard.
Noble father, "magnifico"!
I don't have a good rhetoric.|I said "penitence".
I'm a monk. Saint Benedict!|Saint Benedict!
Salvatore, come here.
Master, what language was|he speaking?
All languages and none.
And what was the word you|both repeated?
-What does it mean?|-That the hunchback, undoubtedly...
was once a herectic.
"Penitenziagite" was the rally|cry of Dolcinites.
Dolcinites? Who were they?
Those who believed|in the poverty of Christ.
So do we, Franciscans.
But they also declared everyone|must be poor.
So, they slaughtered the rich.
You see, Adso...
the step between ecstatic vision|and sinful frenzy...
is all too brief.
So, could he not have killed|the translator?
No. Fat bishops and wealthy priests...
were more to the taste|ofthe Dolcinites...
not a specialist of Aristotle.
But you're right, we must|keep the mind open.
We're fortunate to have such|a snowy ground here.
It's the parchment on which|the criminal, unwillingly...
writes his autograph.
What do you mean from these|footprints here?
They're twice as deep as the|others, Master.
Good! And thus we may conclude...
That the man was very heavy.
Precisely! And why was|he very heavy?
Because... he was very fat?
Or because he was carrying|another man.
Let's commit the autograph|of this sole to our memory.
But the footprints lead away|from the jar, in this direction.
Adso, you're discounting|the possibility...
that the man was walking|backwards, dragging the body...
into the furrows|created by the heels.
Where did the erudite|Greek translator...
meet the anonymous|author of his death?
Brother librarian...
perhaps you'd permit us to examine|the work of the two unfortunates...
who were so distressingly|gone to God.
-Your request's most unusual.|-As are the circumstances of their deaths.
Brother Adelmo sat there.
Eyeglasses in frames.
A donkey teaching the|Scriptures to the bishops.
The pope as a fox.|And the abbot as a monkey.
He had a daring talent|for comic images.
A monk must not laugh!|Only fools laugh for nothing!
I trust my words didn't|offend you brother William...
but I heard them laughing|at unlaughable things.
You, Franciscans, however,|belong to an Order...
where merriment is viewed|with indulges.
Yes, it's true. Saint Francis|was much disposed to laughter.
Laughter's a devil's squint|which deforms the face...
and makes men look|like monkeys.
Monkeys do not laugh.|Laughter's particular to man.
As a sin.|Christ never laughed.
Can you be so sure?
There's nothing in the|Scriptures to say that He did.
There's nothing there|to say He didn't.
Even the saints also|employed comedy...
to ridicule the enemies|ofthe faith.
For example, when the|pagans plunged Saint Maurus...
into the boiling water,|he complained...
that his bath was cold.|The Sultan put his hand in...
-and burnt himself.|-A saint...
immersed in boiling water|doesn't play childish tricks.
He restrains his cries|and suffers for the truth.
And yet, Aristotle devoted his second|book of poetics to comedy...
as an instrument of truth.
Have you read this work?
Of course not.|It's been lost for centuries.
No, it's not!|It was never written!
Because Providence doesn't|want futile things glorified.
-That I must contempt.|-Enough!
This abbey is overshadowed by grief.|Yet you would...
intrude on our sorrows|with idle banter!
Forgive me, Venerable Jorge.|My remarks were truly out of place.
Which was the Greek|translator's desk?
This one.
Come, Adso.
-What'd you deduce from that visit?|-That we're not meant to laugh in there.
But you noticed how few books|there were on the escritoire's shelves?
All those scriveners, copyists,|translators, researchers...
thinkers... Where are the books|needed for their work...
and for which this abbey|is famous?
Where are the books?
-Are you testing me?|-What do you mean?
With all due respect...
it seems that whenever you ask me a|question, you already have the answer.
Do you know where the books are?
No, but I've faith that that|tower contains something other than air.
Did you see the little door|the librarian closed as we came in?
That leads to the library?
Master! Quick! I have him!
-Stop! Enough.|-He tried to kill us.
Please, don't talk to the abbot|about his past.
He's innocent ofthe deaths|in this abbey. I swear it.
Brother Remigio, my price is|some information.
I couldn't comprehend|why my master so quickly dismissed...
my suspicions for the|heretic hunchback...
and why it was so urgent|that we visited the tower.
I assumed he couldn't|resist the temptation...
to penetrate the library|and look at the books.
No lock. Just as I thought,|it must be bolted from inside.
How do we get in?
Obviously, there must be|another entrance.
Let's see what the moon-faced|assistant librarian...
was trying to conceal this morning.
Tiny Greek letters.
Perhaps written by an ant|with ink feet.
"Have fun with the defects|of vulgar people."
Written with lemon juice.
Sagittarius... Sun... Mercury...
It's a zodiac code...|giving directions...
but to where?
Who's there?|Who's there?
-My magnifying glasses...|-They were in that book.
You go that way.
Come on out, you little bitch!
I know you're here.|I can smell you.
What's the matter with you?|Are you afraid of me?
I'll find you.
Who was she?
Who was this creature|that rose like the dawn...
bewitched as the moon,|radiant as the sun..
terrible as an army|poised for battle?
Good evening, Salvatore.
This is where you catch them?
Here they're "piu grassi",|bigger.
Do you eat them?
-Do you like?|-Thank you, no.
"lch bin" good catholic.
As you're a good Christian,|you must tell me.
So Adelmo gave the|parchment to Berengar?
No. To the trans... tran...
Translator! Venancius,|the black monk.
What happened then?
Master! Here, quick!|I found another one.
Where are your wits, boy?
Have you ever met anyone with a|rib cage large enough to accommodate...
a heart ofthose dimensions?
This is the heart of an ox.
One ofthe monks probably|gave it to that peasant girl...
in exchange for her favors.
A girl? What?
The one I saw out of here.
-He must've been a very ugly monk.|-Why ugly?
If he'd been young and beautiful,|she'd have blessed him...
with her carnal favors for nothing.
Whatever happened in this|dreadful kitchen...
has no bearing on|our investigations.
The hunchback's convinced|me that brother Berengar...
the assistant librarian,|is the key to the whole enigma.
-What did you say?|-Nothing, master.
There's something I must tell you.
I know.
Then, you'll hear my confession?
I'd rather you told me|first as a friend.
Have you ever been...
in love?
In love?
-Many times.|-You were?
Of course. Aristotle, Ovid,|Virgil...
No. I meant with a...
Are you not confusing love|with lust?
Am l?
I don't know.
I want to make her own good.
I want her to be happy.|I want to save her from poverty.
Oh, dear!
-Why "oh, dear"?|-You are in love.
Is that bad?
For a monk it presents|certain problems.
But doesn't St Thomas Aquinas|praise love above all the virtues?
Yes, the love of God, Adso.|Love of God!
And the love of... woman?
Of woman, Thomas Aquinas|knew very little.
The Scriptures are very clear.|Proverbs warns us.
Woman takes possession of a|man's precious soul.
Ecclesiastes tells us:
"More bitter than death is woman."
Yes, but what do you think, master?
Of course, I don't have the benefit|of your experience...
but I find it difficult|to convince myself that...
God'd have introduced such|a being into creation...
without endowing her|with some virtues.
How peaceful life'd be|without love, Adso.
How safe... how tranquil...
and how dull.
God, You've guided us to|this refuge...
of spiritual peace because|you wish for reconciliation...
as much as we, Franciscans.
Let's go, brothers!
Brother Berengar?
He's probably hiding|somewhere...
with the book and|my magnifying glasses.
Brother Berengar?
Master, look! The door!
Brother Malaquias!
I was looking for brother Berengar.|Is he here?
I see. Do you know where|we might find him?
Or is he perhaps upstairs,|in the library?
I'm curious to see the library|for myself. May I do so?
Why not?
It's strict order of the abbot.
No one's permitted|to enter the library...
other than myself and my assistant.
I see. Thank you again.
Maybe something's happened to him.
Maybe we'll find him in the water.
-What?|-The third trumpet...
as Ubertino said.|The book of Revelation.
That's not the book we're after.
Is it a chicken for you?|It's more like a sparrow.
Welcome to our abbey,|brother Michele.
And your fellow Franciscan|delegates.
Get in the line like the others!
Salvatore, let him go!
This is Cuthbert of Winchester...
one of our most esteemed|Franciscan guests.
Come, your grace. We have a|very urgent matter to discuss.
The abbot and his colleagues|believe...
the devil's at work|within these walls.
He is!
The only evidence I see|ofthe devil...
is everyone's desire to see|him at work.
What if Ubertino's right and|you're wrong?
This debate's|crucial to us all.
we suspect the Pope|wants to crash our Order.
-And declare us heretics.|-Yes, and declare us heretics.
I only have one brother to|question and the matter's resolved.
William, we place our trust|in you.
I pray God that you don't|abuse it.
Brother William.
Did you find a book in Greek?
I was right.
So was the book of|Revelation.
-We must talk at once.|-lndeed, we must.
And I have much to tell.
Just as he and I've|examined this corpse.
Lime leaves in the bath|are used to alleviate pain.
He was left-handed?
Brother Berengar was|inverted in many ways.
Are there other left-handed|brothers at the abbey?
Not that I know.
Ink stains.
He didn't write with his|tongue, I presume.
-A few lines in Greek.|-Yes, written by Venancius.
Notes from the book he|was reading...
just before he died.|You see how the calligraphy changes?
From this point on, he was dying.|And what can we conclude from that?
A spot of blue paint.
yes, but a unique spot|of blue...
blended by your finest|illuminate, brother Adelmo...
who had this parchment|before Venancius.
How do we know that?|Because those notes overrun...
Adelmo's blue spots,|and not vice-versa.
Brother William...
this abbey is enshrouded|in a terrifying mystery.
Yet, I detect nothing,|in your obscure citation...
that sheds light upon it.
Adso, the light.
Someone was in great pains|to conceal a secret...
ofthe first magnitude.
The calligraphy's, without|question, left-handed.
The only left-handed member|ofyour community is... or rather was...
brother Berengar,|the assistant librarian.
What kind of secret knowledge|would he not have privilege?
-I feel you're about to tell me.|-Books. Restricted books.
Spiritually dangerous books.
Everyone here knew of|the assistant's passion...
forhandsome boys.|When the beautiful Adelmo...
wanted to readsuch a|forbidden book...
Berengar offered him the|key to its whereabouts...
inside that parchment...
in exchange for unnatural caresses.
Enough, William!
Adelmo submitted to|Berengar's lustful advances.
But afterwards wracked,|byremorse he wandered desperate...
in the graveyard, where|he met the Greek translator.
-How do you know?|-There was a witness.
The hunchback...
he sawAdelmo giving|this parchment to Venancius...
and running towards|the small tower...
and hurling himself|out of the window.
the night of my arrival,|while Berengarpunished his sinful flesh...
Venancius, following|the instructions on the parchment...
entered the forbidden library|and found the book.
He took it back to his desk|and began to read it.
Afterscribbling down|those mysterious quotations...
he died with a blackstain|on his finger.
The assistant discovered the body...
and dragged it down to the pigpen|to avertsuspicion on him.
But he left his autograph behind.
The book remained|on the translator's desk.
Berengar returned there|last night and read it.
Soon after, overcome|bysome agonizing pain...
he tried to take a soothing bath|with lime leaves...
and drawned.
He too had a black finger.
All three died because|ofa book which kills...
or for which men will kill.
Therefore, I urge you to grant|me access to the library.
Brother William, your pride|blinds you.
By idolizing reason...
you failed to see what's obvious|to everyone in this abbey.
The papal delegation's arrived.|Bernardo Gui.
Thank you, brother William.
We're grateful|for your efforts...
but I now ask you...
to refrain from further|investigations.
Happily, there'll be someone|arriving with the papal delegation...
who is a well-versed|in the wilds ofthe evil one.
A man, I believe,|you know too well.
Bernardo Gui...
ofthe lnquisition.
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