Francis looks down thoughtfully. The older man looks blankly in front of him, 
then makes as though to rise, drawing his cloak tightly about him. He finally 
rises completely and starts to move off, inviting Francis to come with him. 
Francis gets up from the bench slowly and the two men walk away down the path. 

Jane, wearing a flowing white gown, is sitting on the left of the courtyard 
of the Institution, which looks exactly as it did during the previous 
sequences: radial lines painted on the ground and the arched facade to the 
rear. Now, however, numbers of people are moving about randomly and among a 
group sitting in the leather armchairs on the right of the courtyard we 
recognize the dark slim figure of Cesare, in the act of rising from his chair.

Jane, her long black hair surmounted by a tiara, sits absolutely immobile; 
her lips are slightly pursed.

A woman in black enters the courtyard and curtsies respectfully to Jane, who 
turns her head towards her in brief acknowledgement. Cesare slowly wanders 
over from right; he is holding a white flower, the petals of which he is 
gently stroking.

An old man with a mane of white hair and a thick beard orates and 
gesticulates; he is dressed in a pin-stripe suit with a bright watch chain 
across his middle.

The face of the old man, as he shouts dramatically, is creased with deep 
lines; his eyes are almost Mongoloid.

The old man continues his passionate oration, waving his right arm up and 
down dramatically.

In the meantime, Cesare, still engrossed in examining his flower, has moved 
nearer camera. A man dressed in black scuttles furtively left to right across 
the yard.

In one of the large leather armchairs, a woman in her late thirties, wearing 
very heavy eye make-up, is playing an imaginary piano, her arms stretched out 
in front of her.

Meanwhile, the woman in black has concluded her bow to Jane and Cesare has 
turned away from camera. The older doctor -- the one attacked by Caligari -- 
talks to a well-dressed young lady in the center of the courtyard, before 
turning and leaving. Francis and his older companion enter right.

Suddenly Francis notices Cesare -- leaning against the wall of the courtyard 
behind the chairs and still engrossed in his flower -- and recoils, falling 
backwards against his friend.

Cesare's face looks sad and melancholy as he gazes tenderly at his flower; 
his hair is now tidily brushed back from his brow. Francis recovers his 
balance and pulls his companion away from Cesare; he points towards the 
latter across the older man and whispers urgently. Francis's expression 
throughout this exchange is wild and staring; he is not at all the bright, 
intense young man of former scenes.
 
TITLE: 	'Look! There is Cesare. Never ask him to tell 
		your fortune; it will mean death for you.'
 
Francis continues to confide in the older man who has turned to stare at 
Cesare.

Cesare, gaunt and melancholy, continues his examination of the flower, 
supporting the bloom with his hand.
 
The older man stares in astonishment at Francis, then backs away, alarmed,  
and hurries from the courtyard. Francis, shoulders bowed, remains, a hang-dog 
expression on his face. Suddenly, however, his face breaks into a childish 
grin as he sees someone off left. He stretches his arms in front of him and 
totters towards whoever he has seen.

Francis comes up to Jane, who is still sitting down and staring blankly in 
front of her; as he approaches her, his childish grin intensifies. He 
advances on her with his arms outspread as though about to clasp her in a 
passionate embrace. She, however, shows absolutely no response to his 
advances and Francis is obliged to content himself with gripping the back of 
her chair from which position he speaks passionately to her.
 
TITLE: 	'Jane! I love you. Won't you ever marry me?'
 
Francis pleads with the girl.
 
His passionate entreaties elicit little response from Jane, who, bored and 
condescending, turns her head slowly away from him.
 
TITLE: 	'We queens -- we may never choose as our hearts 
		dictate.'
 
The girl slowly turns her head back again until she is facing camera, staring 
blankly ahead.

Francis looks deeply hurt as he draws back from Jane's chair. The girl 
freezes into immobility and Francis turns to face the rear of the courtyard.

The inmates of the Institution are still milling about the courtyard; in one 
corner, near the facade of the building at the rear of the courtyard, two 
young women are deep in argument. Francis, moving away from Jane's chair, 
suddenly notices something under one of the arches which causes him to lurch 
wildly across the yard to get a better view of what he has seen, before 
dashing towards the arches.

The Director of the Institution, a neat, benevolent-looking man, walks down 
the steps and under the arch into the courtyard. He is meticulously dressed 
in a frock-coat, waistcoat and light-colored trousers. His face bears a very 
vague resemblance to Caligari's. The Director enters the courtyard through 
the center arch. Francis, meanwhile, stands with the two young women who have 
been arguing. They are restraining him from advancing closer to the Director.

The Director's face bears a kindly smile.
 
The Director stops for a moment to talk to the bearded old man who has 
previously been seen delivering a speech to an imaginary audience. Francis is 
still being restrained by the two young women. The Director leaves the old 
man and walks forward into the courtyard, hands still folded behind his back. 
Francis jerks himself free from the restraining hands of the two young women. 
Francis screams something out through clenched teeth. The two women on either 
side of him draw back, their hands raised in fear.
 
TITLE:	'You all believe I am mad. That is not true. It
		is the Director who is mad.'
 
Francis clenches his fists above his head, screams and lurches forward.

The Director is continuing his walk forward, oblivious that Francis is 
rushing towards him from behind. Francis grasps hold of the Director's 
shoulders, shouting loudly.
 
TITLE: 	'He is Caligari, Caligari, Caligari.'
 
A furious struggle develops in the courtyard. The older doctor rushes in to 
the Director's aid, while another attendant comes from another side of the 
courtyard and grabs Francis round the waist. The two women who have held 
Francis look on with extreme alarm.

Francis is surrounded by a crowd of attendants, one of whom is brandishing a 
straitjacket. They succeed in subduing him and slip the straitjacket over 
him, bundling him away out of the courtyard.

Francis is dragged into the same cell in which Caligari was earlier 
incarcerated. The group of attendants around Francis is followed into the 
cell by the Director and two white-coated doctors, who bend inquisitively 
over Francis after he has been deposited on the bunk bed at the back of the 
cell. The attendants leave the Director with Francis.
 
Francis is now half-sitting on the bed as the three men bend over him. The 
Director straightens up and turns towards camera, fumbling in the inside 
pocket of his frock coat from which he produces a pair of round spectacles. 
He slowly pulls the spectacles over his ears, giving him an extraordinary 
resemblance to Caligari. Francis, seeing this, stares at the Director like a 
terrified child. The Director, however, takes his head gently in both hands 
and lays it on the pillow. He turns towards camera, thoughtfully removes his 
glasses and speaks.
 
TITLE:	'At last I understand the nature of his madness. 
		He thinks I am that mystic Caligari. Now I see 
		how, he can be brought back to sanity again.'
 
The Director turns slightly right, brushes back a few stray wisps of hair, 
and, looking well-pleased with himself, replaces his spectacles in his coat 
pocket. Iris out on the Director's face, a thoughtful, pleased expression on 
it. 

Fade in.
 
TITLE: 	THE END.