The Duchess of Langeais (2007) - full transcript

Don't touch the axe

The lsle of Majorca, 1823.

After the fall of Cadiz to the French army,

and the restoration of King Ferdinand Vll

to the Spanish throne.

In the Carmelite convent,

General de Montriveau hears a mass.

In honour of the solemnity,

the choir curtains are drawn,

but the nuns are secluded
in the organ loft.

Thus, France is everywhere?



Gentlemen,
I hope you will forgive me.

A passing illness obliged me
to leave the church.

I had to breathe the air of the sea.

The Governor prays you not to forget
you are invited tonight.

You are to preside the dinner.

I fear my state will not permit it.
I am so sorry.

I will take bed promptly.

M. de Montriveau,

my house is yours if you so desire.

Thank you.

I think I will prolong my stay.

Gaillard, you are free.

Come for my instructions
in the morning.

The following day



Enter!

Gaillard,
will you take a message?

Yes, General.

Major General,

I am sorry to say I am suffering

a passing illness

which obliges me to
hand over to a colonel

the command of the troops.

Et cetera, et cetera.

Tage river I flee your gay edges

To your shores I bid adieu

Rock, drink from the shore

Echo! Plaintive Nymph!

Alas!
I shall, Leave you, forever!

Antoinette!

General,
I was told you were out.

You are no longer ill?

Your troops have taken to sea.

Forgive me, I didn't expect to see

such devotion in a French soldier.

The music, Monsieur.

Music, religion, love,

are they not the expression...

of the need of expansion
of a noble soul?

Come and eat with me.

I fear I am not an amusing guest.

I invited our Carmelites' confessor.

Well then...

lt's a contemplative order.

Our saint, Theresa of Avila,
set its rule in her book

the "lnterior castle".

This castle, may they leave it?

The nuns have chosen to be cloistered.

The rule is strict.

May they be seen?

A man may not enter a convent
of the Barefoot Carmelites.

But yourself...

Unless one is, as I, a priest,
attached by the Archbishop.

They are all from your country?

Not at all...

Among them, there is a Frenchwoman:

Sister Theresa.

She directs the music of the chapel.

Indeed! A Frenchwoman?

She must rejoice:
A Bourbon on the throne of Spain.

I told them the object of the mass.

They are always a bit curious.

This Sister Theresa may have
family in France.

She might want news of them.

I don't think so.

She would have told me.

Father, as a compatriot,

I would be curious to meet her.

If it's possible,
if Mother Superior consents.

Behind the grille,
even in Mother Superior's presence,

an interview is impossible.

But...

for the saviour of the Catholic throne
and holy religion,

despite the Mother's severity,

the rule might... rest a bit.

I will speak about it.

That night

Duchess, does your companion
speak French?

There is no duchess here.

You are before Sister Theresa.

My companion, as you say,
is my mother in God,

my superior on earth.

She speaks but Latin and Spanish.

I speak neither.

Dear Antoinette, excuse me to her.

My brother, I am Sister Theresa.

Dear Mother,

this gentleman presents his respects,

but does not speak
the two languages you speak.

Do you know this gentleman?

Yes, Mother.

Return to your cell my child.

Mother, this Frenchman is my brother.

You may stay my child.

You see, my brother,
what I dare to speak a moment

for your salvation.

I commit a mortal sin.

I have lied.

How many days of penance
to redeem this lie,

I shall suffer for you.

But I may hear you and be still now.

Antoinette, I must see you!

Don't call me
Antoinette, I beg of you.

Memories of the past are painful.

These words, so humbly said,

struck the General
like a lightning bolt.

You will leave this tomb...

You belonged to me,

not free to give yourself,
even to God.

I looked for you the world over.

For five years,
you were my only thought.

My friends, powerful friends, as you know,

helped me search
the convents of France,

of Italy, Spain, Sicily, America.

You forget I am not free.

The Duke is dead.

May heaven take him.

I did not mean those ties.

You mean your vows!

I shall go to Rome,

plead all the powers on earth.

Do not speak so!

I love you more than ever before.

I don't see you
with the eyes of the body.

How can you outweigh that?

My reply is I love you.

If you follow me,

I shall hear no other voice,

see no other face than yours.

Antoinette, will you follow me?

I am not leaving you.

I live here for you, in God!

If He is just, you will be happy.

Words!

You preferred me to society before,

now it's God, my blessing!

You don't love me!

You have never loved me!

Oh, my brother...
You say you love my soul?

You will lose this soul forever.

I will kill myself.

Mother, I have lied to you,

this man is my lover!

Five years ago, in Paris,
at the Countess de Sérizy's.

My dear child,

you were at Mlle de Rochefide's
yesterday, you are everywhere!

I am so sad, aunt.

Childishness.

Go, reap your harvest of flatteries,
and impassioned gazes.

The day ends
and you are all the more pretty.

We know you.

None more than you, my aunt.

Scolded by the princess?

But so kindly.

I love and admire that woman.

None can hold a snuffbox like her.

When she sits,
the skirts set with such grace.

Clara, who is that man?

You have heard of him,
the Marquis de Montriveau.

It's him.

The Empire's hero, is he not?

Went to the centre of Africa.

Held prisoner by savages
for two years, before fleeing.

Makes an interesting man of him.

Introduce me, he must be amusing.

None is more dull or sombre,
but he is the fashion.

Monsieur,
my friend would like to meet you,

let me introduce you.

Armand de Montriveau,
this is Antoinette de Langeais.

All of Paris talks of your courage,

and constancy of soul.

A man like you must dislike the attention.

After months of inhuman solitude,
I can't complain, Madame.

You went up to the source of the Nile.

You almost died?

I had a desert to cross.

"A desert to cross"...

May I hear the story?

...despite the suffering,

ashamed to complain to my guide,

I kept my hardship secret.

Having walked a third of the day,

my strength failing and feet bleeding,

I asked if we would be arriving soon.

"In one hour", said my guide.

The hour went by with no sight,
even on the horizon,

of palm trees or crests

meaning the end of my suffering.

I stopped,

threatened the guide,
refusing to go further.

The violins are waiting, my dear.

Lest the bows ruin your evening.

It is late, Madame.

I must take leave of you and the music.

Monsieur,

allow me to invite you to call upon me.

I fear I am selfish in my request.

You will always find me in the evening,

until ten o'clock.

I shall come.

I'll have Mme de Langeais as mistress.

The next day, the end of the afternoon

- M. the Marquis de Montriveau.
- Let him in, Julien.

And remove some light.

If it were not you, Monsieur le Marquis,

I would have sent you away.

You see me terribly ill.

I shall leave.

I would be cross to see you leave.

I stay then.

Let me remove this,
I feel too warm now.

Your feet, in Asia, Madame,

would be worth ten thousand sequins.

Compliments of a traveller...

Do you know I dreamt of you last night?

I was with you on the burning sand.

It must be your tale of yesterday.
You promised to finish it.

But if you are unwell...

Your words will cure me.

Where was I?

You had no more strength,

and had to walk two more hours.

So I walk...
The two hours go by.

I have spent my last drops of energy,

and nothing on the horizon,

nor palm trees, nor hills.

I can't cry out nor groan,

so I lie on the sand to die.

My gaze would frighten the boldest:

It said I didn't want to die alone.

My guide, like a demon,

looks at me calmly, full of his power,

letting me lie there,

staying at a safe distance,

far from my despair.

I find enough strength for a curse.

So the guide comes near,

orders silence and says...

lt is frighteningly dark here.

Forgive me,

I can't bare this gloomy darkness.

Light Julien, some light!

A little while later

You see the effect your tale has on me.

I feel totally cured.

Let me dream the rest,
I must go out now.

What is it?

How do I say to this wild creature,

I love her.

Well, you have just said it.

I'd be angry if you did not love me.

What I mean, Madame, until we met,

I had never loved before.

You play games with me.

Who hasn't been in love at least once?

Madam...

Will you come tomorrow evening?

I'll wait for you from eight on.

So the following day

Mme la Duchesse cannot be seen,

she is dressing,
and prays you wait in the sitting room.

I kept you waiting.

I would patiently wait an eternity,

for a divinity as fair as you.

Allow me to kiss but your scarf.

I regard you enough
to give you my hand.

Will you always give it to me?

Yes, but we will leave it at that.

It is good, you are punctual.

I like punctuality.

His Majesty says it is the courtesy of kings.
For me, it's the most polite flattery.

You will never forget to come at eight.

You will go to the ball every night?

Do I know?

What does it matter?

You will take me.

Tonight would be difficult,
I'm not properly dressed.

Know, monsieur the traveller,
any man's arm I take, is above fashion.

I see you do not know society.

I like you even more.

Would you compromise yourself for me?

You forget that first you owe me
the end of your tale.

If you wish.

You were in agony, lying on the sand,

the guide was about to speak.

What words did he say?

They are stamped in my mind...

"You reproach me of lying to you."

"Had I not, you wouldn't be this far."

"You want the truth, here it is:"

"We still have a five-hour walk,"

"and we cannot go back."

"If you are not brave enough,"

"here is my dagger."

What did you do?

I rose and followed my guide.

Five hours went by and
still I saw nothing...

Then the Nubian took me
on his shoulders

to see, at a hundred steps, a lake,

surrounded by palm trees,

illuminated by the setting sun.

I thought I was reborn.

And my guide concluded his devotion

by carrying me along the granite path.

On one side, I saw the hellish sand,

on the other, earthly paradise.

You make me miss the ball!

I promised Mme de Beauseant.
They are all waiting for me.

Well then, go ahead!

I stay.

I like sharing a bold man's agony.

I can feel it, it's true!

We are worthless.

We are contemptible,
selfish, and frivolous.

None of us knows the meaning of life.

It's our fault the world is so petty.

You make me loathe society, this ball!

Tell Julien I will not go out tonight.

You have had a hard life.

I have only suffered, but now,

I see I could be unhappy.

Enough.

Enough, it is late.

You must leave,
let us regard appearances.

I didn't go to the ball, you were here.

People must not talk about us. Farewell.

Farewell.

I don't know what I will say,

the headache is a good friend,
it's never questioned.

Is there a ball tomorrow?

Well, yes,

tomorrow we will go to the ball again.

Two months later

Did you see him?

Where is he?

Where is he hiding, this war bolt?

You didn't see... Excuse-me.

Where is he? I don't see him.

Whom?

The one everyone calls the lord...
The lord...

...the orderly of the Duchess.

Before you, with her.

My angel, if what they say is true...

What do they say, aunt?

Your Bonaparte pupil
not only follows you everywhere,

but comes to see you every evening.

I confess his tales amuse me.

Your hero's exploits must fill at least...

two volumes by now!

Avoid being, my dear Duchess,

too coquette with such a man.

Coquette?

I hate coquetry.

Promising to many
and giving oneself to none.

I see but the Marquis
and promise him nothing.

Precisely.

What do you mean dear Vidame?

He is a kin to the eagle,

you will not tame him.

He'll carry you off to his eyrie,
if you don't watch out.

Don't worry, my angel,

but don't forget manners are all.

What is the matter, Lisette?

All is well, Monsieur le Marquis.

Who told you to come in?

You have no manners.

I beg your pardon.

Stay.

Keep still,

and stop looking at me, if you can.

Because of you, I can't see myself!

- What should I do?
- Nothing.

Leave us, Lisette.

I am what you will,
a boor, a barbarian.

How can one who idolizes you,
displease you?

You are not displeasing to me.

But you are always here!

Come less often,
I will not love you less.

I must imagine being loved.
Perfect!

You were the last I had faith in,

I see all is false on earth.

Poor Armand,
you are flying into a passion.

- I'm flying into a passion?
- Yes.

You think all is in doubt,
because I speak of prudence.

If you don't wish to keep up
appearances, I'm willing.

Appearances.
What do you think of me?

Did I ever let you believe
I would be yours?

Madame, do you love me?

Look at me in the eyes, tell me:

Yes or no.

If only I were free, if...

ls it because of your husband?

My dear Antoinette,

I have absolute power,
more than the Tsar of Russia.

I have a compact with Fate.

I can advance or delay
it, like a watch.

What do you mean?

Soon, you will be free,

remember your promise then.

Armand, you want my death?

Make me the accomplice of a crime?

I fear God.

Even if M. de Langeais
gives reason to hate him,

I wish him no harm.

Listen,
no more talk of seeing you less.

You will still come here,

I shall give you my forehead to kiss,

and then...

You must no longer
speak of your husband.

Think of him no more.

You keep secrets from me?

How can you control fate?

I trust you, Antoinette.

No suspicion, no false jealousy.

But...
if by accident you were free,

we are one.

Accident, Armand.

Pure accident.

Mark thee,

if by your doing,
harm came to M. de Langeais,

I would never be yours.

If the previous scene

is the civil period
of this sentimental war,

the following is the religious one.

The priest ate but two cream puffs.

- Do you want one, Lisette?
- No.

Cream does not sit well with me.

Let me see!

- Any sweet wine left?
- Barely a drop.

Look, he's early!

Let go of me, Julien.

You'd better go to confession.

Liberals will never destroy religion.

Religion will always be a necessity,

a political necessity.

You say these things better...

Monsieur de Montriveau.

You say these things
better than I could myself...

I wish the Chamber of Peers
had their bench of bishops,

like the House of Lords in England.

Indeed,

the Church must be a temporal
and a spiritual power.

Is it not odd, my child,

men are prompt to fight for it

but seldom follow its rule?

Meditate on this.

Lent is near,
an occasion to speak of it again.

What is it my friend?

I can't stomach your abbot.

Why didn't you take a book?

My dear Antoinette,
may I ask you a question?

I may hear you.

Are you not my friend?

I may show you my heart:

You will see but one image.

Do you speak to this man of our love?

He is my confessor.

Does he know I love you?

Monsieur de Montriveau,

you do not expect, I pray,

to enter the secret of confession?

So this man knows our quarrels

and my love for you.

A man, Monsieur?

Say God.

Leave God where he is,
for the love of Him and me.

Madame, you will not confess
again, or...

Or?

Or I will not come here again.

Leave, Armand.

Adieu, Adieu forever.

An hour later

I did not ring.

Lisette, leave me.

You are ill!

Leave me, Monsieur.

Leave.

Mme la Duchesse wants light.

Antoinette, I was wrong.

I wouldn't want you without religion.

I thank you in God's name.

We don't have the same convictions,

I am sorry.

How awful not to believe in a religion

which allows to love beyond the grave.

I set aside Christian feelings,
you don't understand them.

Let me speak only of appearances.

Appearances!

What are they for:

The throne, legitimacy, the world?

It is nonsense next to my joy.

Where am I?

My friend,

you are in the boudoir
of the Duchesse de Langeais.

No more Duchess, no more de Langeais,

I am by my dear Antoinette!

Kindly stay where you are.

You have never loved me.

No, my friend.

I am a big idiot.

You are a big fool.

What are you playing?

The prelude to a ballad,

called, I believe, "River Tage".

Tage River I flee your gay edges

To your shores I bid adieu

Rock, drink from the shore,

Echo! Plaintive Nymph!

Alas!
I shall, Leave you, forever!

I didn't know music...
could be so moving.

My friend,
nor do you know that I love you,

and you cause me great pain,

and I must complain...

without being understood,

otherwise, I would be yours.
But you see nothing.

And you don't wish my happiness.

Armand,
I would die of sorrow tomorrow.

Religion held three months.

- Monsieur le General.
- Julien.

It is not done.

Leave me, I beg you.

Get out.

Out!

Wait in the sitting room.

Go on!

So a husband has no privileges?

It is hateful, Monsieur,

to surprise one's wife.

Pardon me, my dear Antoinette,

a thousand doubts haunt me.

Doubts, really?

I often wish to embrace you at the ball.

If you doubt
lest I embrace you before all,

I will be suspected all my life.

I am not loved.

Right now, admit you are not lovable.

Go, leave, leave me.

I am not like you:
I always want to please.

If it's true, be mine, Antoinette.

I want...

What is this "I want"?

I want!

No one has ever told me that before.

It is perfectly ridiculous.

And if I demanded!

It would prove I was wrong
in making the slightest promise.

I wouldn't be so silly to keep it.

Please return when I may be visible.

Madame, I cannot wait.

I am, as you say, a spoiled child.

When I want what we speak of,
I will have it.

You will have it?

I will.

I'd be delighted to learn
how you will go about it.

I'm delighted to be of interest.

Yes?

Until the ball
at the Countess de Sérizy's

Steel against steel.

We shall see which heart is sharpest.

Steel against steel

What is wrong, my dear Antoinette?
You are a frightening sight.

A dance will pick me up.

One of the things that struck me most,

was what the Westminster guard said...

pointing to the axe used to chop

the head of Charles the First.

What did this guard say?

"Don't touch the axe."

The truth is, Monsieur le Marquis,

you look at my neck
as you tell this old story,

known to all who go to London,

as if you had the axe in hand.

But this story, actually, is very new.

How so, I pray?

How so?

In that you have
touched the axe.

What a wonderful prophecy!

And when will my head fall?

I don't wish your pretty head to fall.

I fear a misfortune might befall you.

Could we ask the king of sorcerers,

when I touched the axe,

as I have never been to London?

In place for the quadrille.

And when will the punishment begin?

Before the day is out,
a dreadful misfortune will befall you.

I am a child who fears no danger,

and will dance
along the precipice's edge.

Places for the quadrille.

I am delighted to see, Madame,

such strength of character.

One hour later

We have orders to kill you
if you scream.

Don't scream, Mme la Duchesse,

I have a headache.

In fact, I will untie you.

What good would your cries do?

No one can hear you.

May I ask what you intend
to do with me?

Nothing at all, Madame.

You are here for a short time.

I will explain who you
are, and who I am.

When you wriggle on your sofa,
in your boudoir,

I have no words for my thoughts.

Here, my mind is unfettered.

Fear nothing.

Perhaps you think of rape,

I wouldn't think of it.

Madame,

one minute, one will suffice for me

to affect the rest of your life.

You inspire a spirit of justice in me.

Atone for your fault.

God may forgive you, I wish it.

Spare the tears, Madame.

Nothing in you can move me now.

All is said.

You have a right to speak harshly,

and I deserve this punishment.

Armand,
I thought as I resisted love,

I was obeying
woman's nature of modesty.

You take my weaknesses

and make crimes of them.

My severity spoke more of love
than of complacency.

And besides,
what is your grievance?

My heart was not enough,

you brutally demanded my person.

Brutally!

You came to me as
with those bad women,

with no respect,

none of the attentions of love.

Had I not the right to reflect?

If I did wrong,

may I not be forgiven?

May I not mend?

Armand,

these women you take me for
give themselves, but they fight.

Well, I fought, but here I am.

I love you!

I am yours!

Madame,

Antoinette cannot save
the Duchesse de Langeais.

I believe neither one nor the other.

Armand, who are these men?

What will you do to me?

These men are as discreet as I am
on what will be done here.

Look at them as my instruments.

One of them is a surgeon.

Surgeon?

Speak, tell me if
it's my life you want,

I will give it to you.

You don't understand?

Did I not speak of justice?

Look at this star.

We will stamp it on the
forehead, here,

between the eyes...

You will not hide it with diamonds.

Your forehead will have the mark

applied on the shoulders of convicts.

My Armand,
brand your creature quickly

as your poor little trifle.

I see but mercy and forgiveness,

but eternal joy in your vengeance.

By marking a woman as yours,

with your red brand, well,

you can never abandon me,

you will be mine forever.

Come in, come gentlemen,

and mark the Duchesse de Langeais.

She is forever more
to M. de Montriveau.

Come quickly,

my forehead is hotter than your iron.

I spare you, Madame.

It's as if it never happened.

But here let us bid goodbye.

Goodbye?

Goodbye.

I have lost faith.

You would torment me,
you would always be the Duchess, and...

nothing.

Goodbye.

What do you wish?

To go home or return
to Mme de Sérizy's?

Where do you want to be?

Take me to the ball.

Throw to hellish society
one who suffers in it,

and will continue to suffer in it

if there is no happiness for her.

If I leave,
allow me to take something.

Anything! This.

When you wish to leave, tell me.

- I wish to stay.
- Out of the question.

Here. This was poorly wet!

- You smoke?
- What wouldn't I do to please you?

Go away, Madame.

I obey.

We must cover you
so you may not see the way.

I am ready, Armand.

Can you see?

No.

I can hear you.

You can see!

A bit.

You deceive me still?

Lead me, Monsieur,
I shall not open my eyes.

My friend, I love you

as your bourgeois love you.

This society has not corrupted me.

I am young
and have just become younger.

I am a child, your child,

you have just created me.

Don't banish me from my Eden.

Move ahead.

My dear Antoinette,

we were looking for you everywhere.

I came here to breathe.

The reception rooms are unbearably hot.

Goodbye, my dear.

I love him...

A week long, she looks for him
at balls and receptions...

in vain.

What is this impatience, my dear?

Another cup of tea?

For the tea, I say yes.

You have fallen out
with M. de Montriveau?

He doesn't come here anymore?

He is nowhere to be seen,

he is surely busy with a woman...

So you miss him.

I heard monstrous things about him.

Hurt him, he never comes back,
forgives nothing.

Love him, he keeps you in chains.

Those who praise him
say he's a great soul.

Society does not care for great souls.

Men of that stamp are best at home.

May they remain there.

I am cross not to see him.

I had a sincere amity for him...

I love great souls.

Go, Lisette.

I don't want to be disturbed.

The next day, at dawn,
her letter is carried by Julien.

Did you see him?

Yes, Madame.

He is in Paris then!

How is he? What did he say?

Tell me everything, Julien.

M. le Marquis said he would come
to Mme la Duchesse.

He is coming!

I need Lisette.

The fire is dying.

I want big flames.

Hand me my shawl.

Madame, it is ten o'clock...

I will go.

But, the following morning...

Yes?

M. le Marquis bids I tell
Mme la Duchesse it was well.

Well?

For twenty-two days,

Mme de Langeais
wrote to M. de Montriveau,

with no reply.

And don't forget that Spinoza

in his third volume...
Oh, what is it?

Mme de Langeais' carriage.

It is empty?

It appears so.

In front of General de Montriveau's!

- Damn!
- Damn.

What of it?

Mme de Langeais
commits the noblest imprudence!

Mme de Langeais is a heroic woman.

Now, she can love but Montriveau.

What will society become, Monsieur,
if you honour vice,

and forget virtue!

Before all of Paris,
to renounce for one's lover,

to society, to fortune,
and one's rank...

A feminine coup d'état!

Dear aunt,

do you really think
my daughter is at M. de Montriveau's?

What do you think, Vidame?

You are getting old then?

But what is to be done?

There are a thousand ways to fix it.

If M. de Montriveau is gallant, he will.

You don't know Montriveau,
my dear aunt.

He's a lord of the day,

a pupil of Bonaparte,

with a major command in the Guard,

and not the slightest ambition.

At the first ill word,
he might tell the King:

"Here is my resignation,
leave me alone."

My child, what is happening?

What is happening, dear father?

Paris thinks you are
at M. de Montriveau's.

My dear Antoinette, you didn't go out?

No, I did not.

But I want all of Paris to think
I'm at Mr. de Montriveau's.

Don't you know the result?

You embarrass your husband,
your rank in society.

We're no longer under the Valois,
we can still fix everything.

My aunt, I don't want to fix anything.

I want all of Paris to say I was
this morning at M. de Montriveau's.

Antoinette, a woman must never
give reason to her husband.

I thought like you, dear uncle,

as long as I didn't love.

I saw but interests,

where I now see but sentiment.

But, my dear,

life is simply a complication
of interests and sentiment.

To be happy, in your position,

one must reconcile
sentiment and interest.

I shall be eighty and don't recall,
under any regime,

encountering a love worth
the price you are willing to pay.

My child, you speak of sentiment.

A Navarreins cannot do certain things
without failing his house.

You would not be dishonoured alone.

Dishonour.

Such a fuss over an empty carriage.

Please be so kind to retire.
Leave me alone with Antoinette.

Go on!

My little gem,
no man is worth the sacrifices

we are crazy enough to pay their love.

- My dear aunt...
- Listen to me.

I know by experience
you will do as you please.

I would have done the same at your age.

But, my darling, don't give away the right
to make Dukes of Langeais.

Stay in a position
to be your husband's wife.

An imprudence means a stipend,

a wandering life...
At the lover's mercy.

A thousand times better to go to
Montriveau's at night, in a cab, disguised,

than sending your carriage in broad daylight.
You're a little fool, my dear child!

Your carriage flattered his vanity,

your person
would have taken his heart.

My aunt, don't slander him.

Don't vex anyone,
neither him, nor us.

I'll take care of pleasing all.

But promise not to do anything
without consulting with me.

I promise.

- To tell me everything...
- Everything that can be told.

Dearest, precisely what cannot be told,
I wish to know.

Go on, lead me to my carriage.

Dear aunt,
I may then go to him in disguise?

Indeed, it can always be denied.

Two days later, Mme de Langeais
wrote M. de Montriveau another letter,

yet with no reply.

But, this time, she took measures...

When is M. de Montriveau to come?

He will not return tonight, Madame.

I don't recognize anything.

Does he have two homes?

You will not answer.

I understand.

I only paid the right to enter.
Very well.

A carriage, quick!

After twenty-four hours of reflection,

she sent for the old Vidame de Pamiers.

M. the Vidame de Pamiers.

Dear child, you are very pale,

did you not sleep last night?

Don't smile, I beg of you,

at a woman who is so wretched.

You may be the last relative,

the last friend whose hand I shake.

Grant me, dear Vidame,

a service I could not ask my father,

or my uncle Grandlieu...
or any woman.

I beg you to obey me
and forget you obeyed,

whatever the result...
You must go,

with this letter,
to M. de Montriveau,

and see him, show it to him,

ask him to read it.

You may, to bring him to it,

say it is a matter of my life or death.

- If he deigns...
- lf he deigns?

If he deigns read it,
say one more thing:

He must, for any answer, see me.

You will find him at five o'clock.

- Are you sure?
- I know it.

If three hours later, at eight,

he has not come
out, all is said.

The Duchesse de Langeais
will have left this world.

My dear child...

I don't wish to hear
any kind of comment

or advice...

"lf you love me, cease this cruel game,"

"you would kill me."

"I want to be irresistibly loved,"

"or left ruthlessly."

"If you refuse to read this letter,
it will be burned."

"If having read it,
you are not three hours later,"

"forever, my only spouse,"

"my end will honour my love..."

"lf, having read it,
you are not three hours later..."

These gentlemen have just arrived.

Have them wait.

Good evening Marsay.

Hello de Trailles.

Mission accomplished.

What did he say?

Nothing. He kept silent.

Stay and dine with me.

Let us talk, laugh.

Let us be like two old philosophers.

You are a gallant man

and the adventures of your youth have,

I'd like to believe,
made you indulgent with women.

Not the least.

Really?

Anything pleases them.

I think he is sublime!

Sublime, not at all!

Don't ever say sublime!

Divine, adorable, marvellous...
old style!

The proper word is "stunning"!

For instance, Fragoletta de Latouche,

the preface is stunning!

At the opera, yesterday,

the Tinti was stunning!

Dear Vidame,

be so gracious and ask if he is in.

He is indeed.

Now you must leave me.

I no longer need protection.

But the passer-by?

None can show me disrespect.

And also, there is poetry.

For the Taglioni,
Mme de Maufrigneuse says,

"There is poetry in her dance."

Even better:

There is drama!

Bonaparte, there is drama!

What do you say, Montriveau?

Yes?

Latouche, there is drama!

Fragoletta, what drama!

There is drama in this book!

Or else, you're by a
clear expanse of water,

on a calm evening with
a proper young maid...

Proper, but... stunning!

Stunning but... proper.

You say, "There is drama here!"

My God...

For instance,

I went to see my uncle at Pierrefonds.

That man is rich, he has horses,

well, he doesn't know what a tiger is,
a groom, a britschka,

and still travels in a cabriolet.

Poor fellow.

Gentlemen, farewell.

Some business obliges me to leave.

Hell's Boulevard,

for the last time, she looked
at the noisy, smoky Paris,

bathed in the red of the lights.

And then... what?

She was at my door at eight.

At a quarter past eight
she disappeared.

I lost her...

lf my life were mine,
I'd have blown my brains.

Calm down.

Duchesses don't fly off like wagtails.

They need a carriage,

these angels have no wings.

On the road, or hiding in Paris,
we will find her.

So we see you tomorrow.

Sleep, if you can.

Neither Montriveau, nor his friends
found trace of the Duchess.

She had obviously chosen the cloister.

A few months after the last interview,

a merchant ship left Marseille
and headed for Spain.

It's agreed, neither
ruse, nor force

will succeed in the city.

Fergus.

Ruse, no. But force!

We destroy the city, and the convent.

Like pirates, we burn all,
and leave the rest

for the crows.

What do you say, Montriveau?

I could care less for the lives,

but I prefer being discreet.

Unless there is a third way.

There are but two.

Either arms which frighten Europe...

or a ghostly kidnapping, mysterious,

convincing the nuns
they were visited by the devil.

More difficult,

but more elegant. I also prefer.

Who votes for the brutal solution?

Then it will be the other.

We attack
from where it seems impractical.

And all this, without a sound.

A few hours later

What is this singing?

I shall see.

Move ahead.

All the nuns are in the church.

She was a woman, now she is nothing.

Let's tie a ball to each foot,
and throw her to sea.

Don't think of it but as a book,

read in your childhood.

Yes.

It is but a poem.