Dangerous Liaisons (2022–…): Season 1, Episode 1 - Episode #1.1 - full transcript
The queen and a horse.
Apparently the
king commanded it.
Peasants' gossip.
It is scandalous the things
being said these days.
I know. But isn't it delicious?
How
I ache for you...
to feel your hands upon me,
your breath on my skin.
After what we have shared,
how could I ever bear the
touch of my husband again?
You are my glorious release.
Desire has made me fearless...
and reckless with my reputation.
Keep these letters
safe, my love.
Get down, get!
Come on.
Hey! Come back!
- Get up, I said!
- Hey, hey!
- God save the king!
- God save the king!
My husband sends another man
to the Heavens to find his god.
Would that he went to
such lengths to know me,
or his people.
If I could fly, I'd
have gone far from here,
and I would have taken
every star I could reach.
You want the stars now?
I've always wanted them.
Shh.
So I cannot give you the stars,
not yet.
But I can give you Paris.
So, my mapmaker,
take me away from here?
Where do
you want to go?
Somewhere we
can always be together.
Our bridge,
where we first kissed?
Before you knew how.
I had to show you,
remember?
I pretended so
you'd kiss me more.
Liar.
I taught you
everything you know.
Besides, our bridge
is in the slums.
Take me somewhere
where we're not poor.
We'll start at the
Church of Saint-Sulpice,
pray to the Blessed Mother,
then to Saint-Germain...
or the Tuileries.
And all the
way to the mansions
of Saint-Honoré.
Where the wolves are,
in their disguise of...
fine clothes,
grand houses.
Mm.
I have a plan for us...
for how we can be together.
Everything's
a map, isn't it?
Every line, every scar...
the things we've done...
the things we will do.
We're all just maps.
And somehow, we find our way...
to the things we want.
Marry me, Camille.
Forsake all others.
I cannot be without you.
Have you forgotten my debt?
I'll find the money.
How?
Mm.
I love you.
You can't afford me, Pascal.
- Go on, then.
- What?
I know he's all you
want to talk about.
Who?
Who?
He asked me to marry him.
Tell me you said no.
Why do you hate him so?
'Cause he lets you do this.
Marry me.
- How much for you?
- No.
Ooh, like to play
hard to get, do you?
Come on, a whore from
Jericho should be grateful
to have a man like me.
I said no.
Monsieur.
Can't you see I'm busy?
No!
Come on.
Thank you.
It's my work to
clear the streets
of immoral persons.
No, it is because
you are kind, sir,
a gentleman.
Ah...
Camille.
Creeping like a mouse.
I hope your pockets
are full of coins.
Fuck some men,
Camille. Make me money.
- I'll do better tomorrow.
- Oh, you will.
Or I will bring the
men to you myself.
Good night,
Madame Jericho.
Good
night, gentlemen.
I can't do it anymore.
I can't have them touch me.
We'll manage. We
will get out of here.
I'm going to marry him.
I want my life with Pascal.
Victoire, don't sulk.
No, no, this is wonderful.
I love miracles. So
he has money now?
He'll pay your
debt from Jericho,
and you'll run into his
arms as a free woman?
Bravo, Pascal.
You know
he has no money.
Then how, Camille?
You can't trust him.
And love won't get
you out of here.
Only this will.
Remind me, how many
years have you been here?
Because the story that I heard
was that Jericho plucked you
from a crab pot
on the banks of the river
when you were just a child.
So I hope you don't mind
if I put my faith in love.
Go.
I hope you'll be happy together.
- We will be.
- With no need of me.
I am glad.
I'll finally have
a bed to myself.
And I was not in a pot.
I was mending them.
And they were
lobsters, not crabs.
Of course.
So much more glamorous.
Now, will you stop
sulking and come here?
We are getting out of here.
We.
I know what it is
to be abandoned.
I will never leave you.
To whom do we owe tonight's
apartment, Valmont?
The wife
of a minister.
Your visit is quite
above suspicion.
If she were here.
Well, then I couldn't do this.
Or this.
Valmont...
tell me I am your only lover.
The only one.
Then give me back my letters.
You will not
destroy me, Valmont.
Of course
not, my love,
because I will have my title
and you will have your letters.
Give them to me.
The letters were not
there, Madame de Merteuil.
Clean up
this place, Azolan.
Find us something other
than bread to eat.
I would be glad
to, sir, but we've no money.
That will soon change.
Didn't I promise you
the brightest future
when I took you on here?
You did...
though it still remains
too bright to see
with the human eye.
Why do you fuss so much
about those wretched cats?
Because they were your mother's.
I know you love them, sir.
Well, they're the insult
of my inheritance.
They're there to remind me of...
Everything I don't have.
It is depressing to
be so underestimated.
As if I'd keep her
letters here in this pit.
What will you do
now that madame will
not give you a title?
It was her first move...
a bluff in a game
that I must win.
Perhaps she needs reminding
of the words she's written.
Her husband has one of the
oldest titles in France
and all the power
that comes with it.
I think when she sees
her letters again,
she won't risk her marriage.
I liked her.
She used to give me oranges.
I think the days of
oranges may be behind us.
You have something for me?
And my money?
I find myself in somewhat
reduced circumstances, Emile.
That's not my concern.
A line of credit,
between us, perhaps.
Until the end of the week.
You think it's easy to
get you these apartments
at a moment's notice?
What do you think
would happen to me
if a client found I'd lent out
their place when they're away?
I think they'd be
appalled, Emile.
It shows poor character...
A desire for personal
gain over trust, tut-tut.
For the vault.
And the rent's double,
or find someone else.
They want you on the Ile.
They found your river tunnel.
Mm.
Why must we map
these godforsaken slums?
All of Paris
is to be mapped,
every inch and all the people
in it by orders of the king.
Don't you know we're
a city out of control?
Chaos is to be fit.
Now, if you excuse
me, gentlemen.
I have a prior engagement.
- Need my light, sir?
- Oh, I know my way.
Ah...
ah...
A.
I could make you happy, sir.
Ah, back again, monsieur.
You should be careful.
My lady will think
it means something.
Take a lover of your own,
Victoire, male or female.
I hope you have
money. My lady costs.
Take a lover, Victoire.
My answer is yes.
Camille.
Camille.
Your timing, as
ever, is wretched.
Camille,
Jericho wants money.
Tell her I'll work tomorrow.
She knows he's with you.
She wants payment for the night.
I told you, my lady costs.
Children, may we
not have one night
where you two don't squabble
amongst one another?
To
friendship and love.
I know what
it took to buy that wine.
It wasn't love.
- Where's the money?
- It's in my bag.
This night will clearly
cost me everything.
"I am obsessed
with the memory of you."
Pascal, I don't understand.
Give it to me. Please, my love.
"To be made so alive
by you, your kiss,
your touch, your body means
to be dead without you."
It's just a
letter. It's just words.
Who is she?
Geneviève de
Merteuil. I'm sorry.
- I'm...
- Don't touch me.
Oh, for you to be so righteous.
I never lied about who I am.
You never told me who you are.
You give nothing of your life.
Everything I am is here!
For you to procure!
To be such a fool
to believe in you,
to wait for you,
while all the time,
she's waiting, too.
- It's not the same.
- Does she know that?
I have her secrets.
S-she will do anything
to protect them.
She'll give me anything,
whatever I want.
Strange, I thought
you wanted me.
This letter,
I drew it from her for us.
A wife can ruin her
husband with her actions.
So she's married.
You reveal yourself
with every minute.
She will do or pay anything
to save her reputation,
her husband's name.
You would destroy a
woman by blackmail.
Not my
mapmaker after all.
Just another whore.
Then how do we live?
Hmm?
Oh, I have no fortune coming.
My stepmother's seen to that.
And
you have nothing.
Do not be naive, Camille.
How else do you think we
will have our freedom...
- our love?
- You don't know how to love.
My love for you is the
only thing I am sure of.
Beyond secrets, beyond money.
Beyond everything.
Then stop this.
You must stop this.
I won't be betrayed by you.
I won't be weak because of you.
Do you understand?
It's either love or war.
There is nothing in
between, nothing.
It is love.
I will burn them all.
"All"?
She has written to me before.
I keep them only to
execute this plan.
Where, by your bedside?
- There's no sentiment to them.
- But you read them?
No more than I look
at the plans of Versailles
they're stuffed beneath.
They are my security.
I don't seek to destroy her.
I want a better
life for both of us.
Come away with me.
How? Words are easy.
Then let me prove it.
You think Jericho
will simply let me go?
Jericho
won't matter.
I'll come to our bridge
at ten tomorrow night,
and all you need to
do is be there, too.
And we'll go far from here...
and we'll start again.
All I want is you.
No more than I look
at the plans of Versailles
they're stuffed beneath.
Uh, what are
you doing here?
Hey!
Stop that boy!
Stop him!
Imbecile!
A letter's
come for you.
And it's not
Madame de Merteuil's hand, sir.
Where are
you, my wicked pussycat?
Your Florence's thighs
are lonely without you.
No more bloody letters.
We're done with letters, Azolan.
Put it on the fire.
I must go and see my wretch...
of a stepmother.
Are you
not going to tell me
how little I've changed in
the years since last you came?
Grief slows the passing of time.
It keeps one a
prisoner of sorts,
yet acts as a remarkable elixir.
Well, you're not such a
prisoner in the evenings, huh?
When you dance and dine your
way along the Champs Elysees,
well, you're not grieving then,
nor when you parade
through all the doors
my father opened for you.
So not quite bygones
being bygones.
My request is small enough...
a settlement, once
and for all...
enough for me to buy a piece
of land somewhere in the south.
I'll go from Paris.
I do believe you are in love.
What else could cause you
to lower your sights
on my fortune?
My father's fortune.
Your mother was a
spendthrift, too.
Do not speak of her.
Your father would tear out
what little hair he had left
as she gave to every
pauper in town.
- Give me something.
- Some advice, then.
Give your soul to God.
Trust in the divine.
Let your faith be
your sustenance.
You don't need to thank me.
All of this... my father's
title, his fortune...
Should have been
mine when he died,
but you poisoned him against me.
It's not my fault he
fell in love with me.
- Let's call it by its name.
- And I earned it...
every piece of it.
He was a man of great appetite.
I have nothing, Ondine.
I am destitute but for the
pitiful wage that I earn.
- Give me what is mine.
- But I can't.
You see, all this...
vast, vast fortune...
it's for my son.
Your father loved him
as if he were his own.
More, perhaps.
You know your debt to Jericho.
I know, Victoire.
I count it in the sweat of
every man who comes to me.
But if I work every
hour of every day,
I still won't clear
it in my lifetime.
Eat some bread.
She'd rather see you
dead than let you go.
Which is why we cannot
make a mistake tonight.
Under the old
bridge, ten o'clock.
You can't trust him.
I have to.
Send
them away, Azolan.
We have to leave.
Sir.
I sent
for you, pussycat,
but you have abandoned me.
I have a gift waiting for you.
Shall I put
it on the fire, sir?
- Going somewhere?
- To the opera.
Save yourself a walk.
I have a gentleman for you.
Thank you.
What did you pay for?
You.
Shall I send for wine?
Some food, perhaps?
Where, against the
wall, on the bed?
What do you want?
You've paid for me.
Let's get it done.
No, you misunderstand
me, Camille.
How do you know my name?
I've made it my business
to know all about you.
I know you've been in this
godforsaken place four years.
I know you are a prize here...
not like the others.
And we have met before.
Do you not recall?
I have good prospects.
I'm an officer with the
Unit of Moral Discipline.
- Monsieur.
- Call me Gabriel.
What are you doing?
It's your money back, monsieur.
I have to go. I have
to be somewhere.
I am not an insignificant
man, demoiselle.
I'm better than the
filth that comes to you,
yet you insult me.
I will not spend
the night with you.
You will stay.
I've paid for you.
Get away from
her. Move, now, slow.
To the window.
I will cut your throat.
Outside.
- Camille?
- Rose, let us pass.
Where are you going?
- To Pascal Valmont?
- I'm sorry.
- What will you give me?
- I have nothing.
Rose, please.
Oi!
Something must
have happened, an accident.
- There's no accident.
- Victoire, enough!
You have to change
how you feel about him
if we're to live together.
You said you had
something for me.
Something...
very special.
A trinket...
for my trinket.
There are more
letters... more women.
All to him, all
from other women.
All write of love.
Read them, Camille.
You'll never cry for him again.
Aren't you tired
of borrowed apartments?
We must have a place.
With two keys...
one for me
and one for you, my pussycat.
Make it real.
Give me funds tonight,
and I will secure a nest
for us in the morning.
No more...
talking.
Who is she?
De Merteuil.
Come, we're going.
Where?
We wish to
see Madame de Merteuil.
Madame helps the poor
through the church.
I suggest you try there.
Tell her I have news of Valmont.
What could you possibly
know of Valmont?
Throw these creatures
out, Majordome.
We have his letters.
Let us be done. How much do
you want for this letter?
I'm not a blackmailer, madame.
Liar.
I do not believe that
women should fall
while men survive the
same indiscretions.
I'm here to offer
you your freedom.
You, offer me my
freedom, from what?
Giving your heart to a man
who does not know how to love.
Get out of my house.
"Your
body against mine.
Your strong hands
lifting me, moving me."
Shall I go on?
There are other letters, madame.
Where?
In a place of safety.
Valmont has put you up to this.
I do nothing for Valmont.
I don't believe you.
I see the flush in your cheeks
when you speak his name.
If there is a flush,
then it is anger
at having made myself so
vulnerable in loving him.
Valmont is dead to me.
Can you eat those, or
are they ornamental?
So...
my rival is a girl
from the slums.
We are only rivals if
we still desire him.
What do you want from me?
Valmont has put
me at great risk.
I cannot go back to my old life.
I ask again, what do you want?
I don't want to
be betrayed again.
Do not seek
that counsel from me.
I have not always been
in the slums, madame.
I have been in a
great house before.
I have seen wealth and power.
I have seen what it can do,
how it can protect.
I want to learn that privilege.
Privilege cannot be learned.
All things can be learned.
Teach me...
and I will give you back
every one of your letters.
Your marriage will be
saved. You will be free.
You clearly know
nothing of marriage.
Take this off. You
will catch your death.
Excuse me!
I need to see Camille.
I was to meet her. I was late.
She's gone, sir. She
ran out on all of us.
Jericho will find her.
She'll be done for then.
Poor cow.
There is
news from a plantation.
Your husband, the marquis,
has left Saint-Domingue.
He will return before
the month is out.
I find myself much burdened.
I... I brought the cards.
I thought they might provide
a welcome distraction.
It's a miracle I need now.
Or a good friend.
Ah, you
are from the slums,
and yet your hands are
not worn or calloused.
They encouraged me
to keep them soft.
I will not ask why,
though I can guess.
So...
you, perhaps, I can
invent a history for.
The daughter of a friend from
the country, new to Paris.
But this creature...
that's not possible.
One transformation will
be challenge enough.
- She must go.
- She's in my care. She stays.
There are other letters, madame.
Then she must be mute.
Your deaf and silent maid
from... Marseille.
- I will not be silent.
- You will.
Then I will not be
from Marseille...
Thieves and liars, all of them.
Thus your provenance.
There's work to do.
Marseille?
Read.
It will help your conversation
at the very least.
I've nothing with
pictures, I'm afraid.
I read.
Though, in Paris,
it doesn't matter
how well-read one is
if one is not
appealing to the eye.
He made us love him by
anticipating our needs
and playing to them.
What did you need?
To forget.
To be lost in someone
so full of fire,
it burned away everything
that went before.
How many lovers did he have?
You may tell me.
I will not break.
Um, I might.
Then we must pile up your hair
and bind you in silk...
so your broken
heart does not show.
Ah, Madame Berthe,
we will need a full
wardrobe for the season
for Camille...
the daughter of a dear friend.
It is a pleasure always
to help you, madame.
What rags are these?
Fresh ribbons, madame.
Berthe, I will choose.
White...
like the chameleon.
Ah! Bah-bah-bah.
He does not deserve your pain.
- I loved him.
- Love is lethal, Camille.
Explore your own heart, but
study the hearts of others.
Trust me when I tell you
your lover...
is your future enemy.
Men think
they pluck us, Camille,
when we are ripe
and at our sweetest.
Our skill is in letting
them believe that.
That privilege you spoke of...
wealth and power...
I wanted it, too.
But marriage without
love...
is a prison.
I managed mine with
painstaking effort.
I perfected a façade...
never allowing the truth
of what I thought
or felt to show.
And...
piece by piece,
secret by secret...
I escaped the confines
of my marriage...
built a wall around my heart
for a life that was mine...
completely...
life where I could have
all that I wanted
without consequence.
My one mistake was Valmont.
I allowed the truth of what
I thought and felt to show.
Worse, I wrote it down.
Your pain shows.
Good.
Then I'll always remember.
What?
What I would otherwise
choose to forget.
No, you must learn to hide it,
because I believe you
can survive in this world
where men have all the
power and we have none.
Hide your pain...
and close your heart to love
and the ruin it threatens.
With you, the tide might change.
And what I began...
you may finish.
Are you ready?
Where have
you been, my love?
I've been searching
for your title.
But it is not vicomte.
It is not marquis,
nor duke.
Well, I can hardly
bear the anticipation,
though baron would feel
entirely underwhelming.
It is...
blackmailer.
And I have only to call it out,
and it is you who will
be dead to this society.
And I have only to send
one letter to your husband.
One letter.
Then send it, Valmont...
if you have it.
Hmm.
Welcome...
to the opera, Camille.
She is
Babel...
the very danger that
it is my work to stop,
and here I am, bewitched.
Therefore, evil
shall come upon thee.
Thou shalt not know
from whence it rises.
Do you mean evil
shall come upon you...
or upon her?
Perhaps us both.
Apparently the
king commanded it.
Peasants' gossip.
It is scandalous the things
being said these days.
I know. But isn't it delicious?
How
I ache for you...
to feel your hands upon me,
your breath on my skin.
After what we have shared,
how could I ever bear the
touch of my husband again?
You are my glorious release.
Desire has made me fearless...
and reckless with my reputation.
Keep these letters
safe, my love.
Get down, get!
Come on.
Hey! Come back!
- Get up, I said!
- Hey, hey!
- God save the king!
- God save the king!
My husband sends another man
to the Heavens to find his god.
Would that he went to
such lengths to know me,
or his people.
If I could fly, I'd
have gone far from here,
and I would have taken
every star I could reach.
You want the stars now?
I've always wanted them.
Shh.
So I cannot give you the stars,
not yet.
But I can give you Paris.
So, my mapmaker,
take me away from here?
Where do
you want to go?
Somewhere we
can always be together.
Our bridge,
where we first kissed?
Before you knew how.
I had to show you,
remember?
I pretended so
you'd kiss me more.
Liar.
I taught you
everything you know.
Besides, our bridge
is in the slums.
Take me somewhere
where we're not poor.
We'll start at the
Church of Saint-Sulpice,
pray to the Blessed Mother,
then to Saint-Germain...
or the Tuileries.
And all the
way to the mansions
of Saint-Honoré.
Where the wolves are,
in their disguise of...
fine clothes,
grand houses.
Mm.
I have a plan for us...
for how we can be together.
Everything's
a map, isn't it?
Every line, every scar...
the things we've done...
the things we will do.
We're all just maps.
And somehow, we find our way...
to the things we want.
Marry me, Camille.
Forsake all others.
I cannot be without you.
Have you forgotten my debt?
I'll find the money.
How?
Mm.
I love you.
You can't afford me, Pascal.
- Go on, then.
- What?
I know he's all you
want to talk about.
Who?
Who?
He asked me to marry him.
Tell me you said no.
Why do you hate him so?
'Cause he lets you do this.
Marry me.
- How much for you?
- No.
Ooh, like to play
hard to get, do you?
Come on, a whore from
Jericho should be grateful
to have a man like me.
I said no.
Monsieur.
Can't you see I'm busy?
No!
Come on.
Thank you.
It's my work to
clear the streets
of immoral persons.
No, it is because
you are kind, sir,
a gentleman.
Ah...
Camille.
Creeping like a mouse.
I hope your pockets
are full of coins.
Fuck some men,
Camille. Make me money.
- I'll do better tomorrow.
- Oh, you will.
Or I will bring the
men to you myself.
Good night,
Madame Jericho.
Good
night, gentlemen.
I can't do it anymore.
I can't have them touch me.
We'll manage. We
will get out of here.
I'm going to marry him.
I want my life with Pascal.
Victoire, don't sulk.
No, no, this is wonderful.
I love miracles. So
he has money now?
He'll pay your
debt from Jericho,
and you'll run into his
arms as a free woman?
Bravo, Pascal.
You know
he has no money.
Then how, Camille?
You can't trust him.
And love won't get
you out of here.
Only this will.
Remind me, how many
years have you been here?
Because the story that I heard
was that Jericho plucked you
from a crab pot
on the banks of the river
when you were just a child.
So I hope you don't mind
if I put my faith in love.
Go.
I hope you'll be happy together.
- We will be.
- With no need of me.
I am glad.
I'll finally have
a bed to myself.
And I was not in a pot.
I was mending them.
And they were
lobsters, not crabs.
Of course.
So much more glamorous.
Now, will you stop
sulking and come here?
We are getting out of here.
We.
I know what it is
to be abandoned.
I will never leave you.
To whom do we owe tonight's
apartment, Valmont?
The wife
of a minister.
Your visit is quite
above suspicion.
If she were here.
Well, then I couldn't do this.
Or this.
Valmont...
tell me I am your only lover.
The only one.
Then give me back my letters.
You will not
destroy me, Valmont.
Of course
not, my love,
because I will have my title
and you will have your letters.
Give them to me.
The letters were not
there, Madame de Merteuil.
Clean up
this place, Azolan.
Find us something other
than bread to eat.
I would be glad
to, sir, but we've no money.
That will soon change.
Didn't I promise you
the brightest future
when I took you on here?
You did...
though it still remains
too bright to see
with the human eye.
Why do you fuss so much
about those wretched cats?
Because they were your mother's.
I know you love them, sir.
Well, they're the insult
of my inheritance.
They're there to remind me of...
Everything I don't have.
It is depressing to
be so underestimated.
As if I'd keep her
letters here in this pit.
What will you do
now that madame will
not give you a title?
It was her first move...
a bluff in a game
that I must win.
Perhaps she needs reminding
of the words she's written.
Her husband has one of the
oldest titles in France
and all the power
that comes with it.
I think when she sees
her letters again,
she won't risk her marriage.
I liked her.
She used to give me oranges.
I think the days of
oranges may be behind us.
You have something for me?
And my money?
I find myself in somewhat
reduced circumstances, Emile.
That's not my concern.
A line of credit,
between us, perhaps.
Until the end of the week.
You think it's easy to
get you these apartments
at a moment's notice?
What do you think
would happen to me
if a client found I'd lent out
their place when they're away?
I think they'd be
appalled, Emile.
It shows poor character...
A desire for personal
gain over trust, tut-tut.
For the vault.
And the rent's double,
or find someone else.
They want you on the Ile.
They found your river tunnel.
Mm.
Why must we map
these godforsaken slums?
All of Paris
is to be mapped,
every inch and all the people
in it by orders of the king.
Don't you know we're
a city out of control?
Chaos is to be fit.
Now, if you excuse
me, gentlemen.
I have a prior engagement.
- Need my light, sir?
- Oh, I know my way.
Ah...
ah...
A.
I could make you happy, sir.
Ah, back again, monsieur.
You should be careful.
My lady will think
it means something.
Take a lover of your own,
Victoire, male or female.
I hope you have
money. My lady costs.
Take a lover, Victoire.
My answer is yes.
Camille.
Camille.
Your timing, as
ever, is wretched.
Camille,
Jericho wants money.
Tell her I'll work tomorrow.
She knows he's with you.
She wants payment for the night.
I told you, my lady costs.
Children, may we
not have one night
where you two don't squabble
amongst one another?
To
friendship and love.
I know what
it took to buy that wine.
It wasn't love.
- Where's the money?
- It's in my bag.
This night will clearly
cost me everything.
"I am obsessed
with the memory of you."
Pascal, I don't understand.
Give it to me. Please, my love.
"To be made so alive
by you, your kiss,
your touch, your body means
to be dead without you."
It's just a
letter. It's just words.
Who is she?
Geneviève de
Merteuil. I'm sorry.
- I'm...
- Don't touch me.
Oh, for you to be so righteous.
I never lied about who I am.
You never told me who you are.
You give nothing of your life.
Everything I am is here!
For you to procure!
To be such a fool
to believe in you,
to wait for you,
while all the time,
she's waiting, too.
- It's not the same.
- Does she know that?
I have her secrets.
S-she will do anything
to protect them.
She'll give me anything,
whatever I want.
Strange, I thought
you wanted me.
This letter,
I drew it from her for us.
A wife can ruin her
husband with her actions.
So she's married.
You reveal yourself
with every minute.
She will do or pay anything
to save her reputation,
her husband's name.
You would destroy a
woman by blackmail.
Not my
mapmaker after all.
Just another whore.
Then how do we live?
Hmm?
Oh, I have no fortune coming.
My stepmother's seen to that.
And
you have nothing.
Do not be naive, Camille.
How else do you think we
will have our freedom...
- our love?
- You don't know how to love.
My love for you is the
only thing I am sure of.
Beyond secrets, beyond money.
Beyond everything.
Then stop this.
You must stop this.
I won't be betrayed by you.
I won't be weak because of you.
Do you understand?
It's either love or war.
There is nothing in
between, nothing.
It is love.
I will burn them all.
"All"?
She has written to me before.
I keep them only to
execute this plan.
Where, by your bedside?
- There's no sentiment to them.
- But you read them?
No more than I look
at the plans of Versailles
they're stuffed beneath.
They are my security.
I don't seek to destroy her.
I want a better
life for both of us.
Come away with me.
How? Words are easy.
Then let me prove it.
You think Jericho
will simply let me go?
Jericho
won't matter.
I'll come to our bridge
at ten tomorrow night,
and all you need to
do is be there, too.
And we'll go far from here...
and we'll start again.
All I want is you.
No more than I look
at the plans of Versailles
they're stuffed beneath.
Uh, what are
you doing here?
Hey!
Stop that boy!
Stop him!
Imbecile!
A letter's
come for you.
And it's not
Madame de Merteuil's hand, sir.
Where are
you, my wicked pussycat?
Your Florence's thighs
are lonely without you.
No more bloody letters.
We're done with letters, Azolan.
Put it on the fire.
I must go and see my wretch...
of a stepmother.
Are you
not going to tell me
how little I've changed in
the years since last you came?
Grief slows the passing of time.
It keeps one a
prisoner of sorts,
yet acts as a remarkable elixir.
Well, you're not such a
prisoner in the evenings, huh?
When you dance and dine your
way along the Champs Elysees,
well, you're not grieving then,
nor when you parade
through all the doors
my father opened for you.
So not quite bygones
being bygones.
My request is small enough...
a settlement, once
and for all...
enough for me to buy a piece
of land somewhere in the south.
I'll go from Paris.
I do believe you are in love.
What else could cause you
to lower your sights
on my fortune?
My father's fortune.
Your mother was a
spendthrift, too.
Do not speak of her.
Your father would tear out
what little hair he had left
as she gave to every
pauper in town.
- Give me something.
- Some advice, then.
Give your soul to God.
Trust in the divine.
Let your faith be
your sustenance.
You don't need to thank me.
All of this... my father's
title, his fortune...
Should have been
mine when he died,
but you poisoned him against me.
It's not my fault he
fell in love with me.
- Let's call it by its name.
- And I earned it...
every piece of it.
He was a man of great appetite.
I have nothing, Ondine.
I am destitute but for the
pitiful wage that I earn.
- Give me what is mine.
- But I can't.
You see, all this...
vast, vast fortune...
it's for my son.
Your father loved him
as if he were his own.
More, perhaps.
You know your debt to Jericho.
I know, Victoire.
I count it in the sweat of
every man who comes to me.
But if I work every
hour of every day,
I still won't clear
it in my lifetime.
Eat some bread.
She'd rather see you
dead than let you go.
Which is why we cannot
make a mistake tonight.
Under the old
bridge, ten o'clock.
You can't trust him.
I have to.
Send
them away, Azolan.
We have to leave.
Sir.
I sent
for you, pussycat,
but you have abandoned me.
I have a gift waiting for you.
Shall I put
it on the fire, sir?
- Going somewhere?
- To the opera.
Save yourself a walk.
I have a gentleman for you.
Thank you.
What did you pay for?
You.
Shall I send for wine?
Some food, perhaps?
Where, against the
wall, on the bed?
What do you want?
You've paid for me.
Let's get it done.
No, you misunderstand
me, Camille.
How do you know my name?
I've made it my business
to know all about you.
I know you've been in this
godforsaken place four years.
I know you are a prize here...
not like the others.
And we have met before.
Do you not recall?
I have good prospects.
I'm an officer with the
Unit of Moral Discipline.
- Monsieur.
- Call me Gabriel.
What are you doing?
It's your money back, monsieur.
I have to go. I have
to be somewhere.
I am not an insignificant
man, demoiselle.
I'm better than the
filth that comes to you,
yet you insult me.
I will not spend
the night with you.
You will stay.
I've paid for you.
Get away from
her. Move, now, slow.
To the window.
I will cut your throat.
Outside.
- Camille?
- Rose, let us pass.
Where are you going?
- To Pascal Valmont?
- I'm sorry.
- What will you give me?
- I have nothing.
Rose, please.
Oi!
Something must
have happened, an accident.
- There's no accident.
- Victoire, enough!
You have to change
how you feel about him
if we're to live together.
You said you had
something for me.
Something...
very special.
A trinket...
for my trinket.
There are more
letters... more women.
All to him, all
from other women.
All write of love.
Read them, Camille.
You'll never cry for him again.
Aren't you tired
of borrowed apartments?
We must have a place.
With two keys...
one for me
and one for you, my pussycat.
Make it real.
Give me funds tonight,
and I will secure a nest
for us in the morning.
No more...
talking.
Who is she?
De Merteuil.
Come, we're going.
Where?
We wish to
see Madame de Merteuil.
Madame helps the poor
through the church.
I suggest you try there.
Tell her I have news of Valmont.
What could you possibly
know of Valmont?
Throw these creatures
out, Majordome.
We have his letters.
Let us be done. How much do
you want for this letter?
I'm not a blackmailer, madame.
Liar.
I do not believe that
women should fall
while men survive the
same indiscretions.
I'm here to offer
you your freedom.
You, offer me my
freedom, from what?
Giving your heart to a man
who does not know how to love.
Get out of my house.
"Your
body against mine.
Your strong hands
lifting me, moving me."
Shall I go on?
There are other letters, madame.
Where?
In a place of safety.
Valmont has put you up to this.
I do nothing for Valmont.
I don't believe you.
I see the flush in your cheeks
when you speak his name.
If there is a flush,
then it is anger
at having made myself so
vulnerable in loving him.
Valmont is dead to me.
Can you eat those, or
are they ornamental?
So...
my rival is a girl
from the slums.
We are only rivals if
we still desire him.
What do you want from me?
Valmont has put
me at great risk.
I cannot go back to my old life.
I ask again, what do you want?
I don't want to
be betrayed again.
Do not seek
that counsel from me.
I have not always been
in the slums, madame.
I have been in a
great house before.
I have seen wealth and power.
I have seen what it can do,
how it can protect.
I want to learn that privilege.
Privilege cannot be learned.
All things can be learned.
Teach me...
and I will give you back
every one of your letters.
Your marriage will be
saved. You will be free.
You clearly know
nothing of marriage.
Take this off. You
will catch your death.
Excuse me!
I need to see Camille.
I was to meet her. I was late.
She's gone, sir. She
ran out on all of us.
Jericho will find her.
She'll be done for then.
Poor cow.
There is
news from a plantation.
Your husband, the marquis,
has left Saint-Domingue.
He will return before
the month is out.
I find myself much burdened.
I... I brought the cards.
I thought they might provide
a welcome distraction.
It's a miracle I need now.
Or a good friend.
Ah, you
are from the slums,
and yet your hands are
not worn or calloused.
They encouraged me
to keep them soft.
I will not ask why,
though I can guess.
So...
you, perhaps, I can
invent a history for.
The daughter of a friend from
the country, new to Paris.
But this creature...
that's not possible.
One transformation will
be challenge enough.
- She must go.
- She's in my care. She stays.
There are other letters, madame.
Then she must be mute.
Your deaf and silent maid
from... Marseille.
- I will not be silent.
- You will.
Then I will not be
from Marseille...
Thieves and liars, all of them.
Thus your provenance.
There's work to do.
Marseille?
Read.
It will help your conversation
at the very least.
I've nothing with
pictures, I'm afraid.
I read.
Though, in Paris,
it doesn't matter
how well-read one is
if one is not
appealing to the eye.
He made us love him by
anticipating our needs
and playing to them.
What did you need?
To forget.
To be lost in someone
so full of fire,
it burned away everything
that went before.
How many lovers did he have?
You may tell me.
I will not break.
Um, I might.
Then we must pile up your hair
and bind you in silk...
so your broken
heart does not show.
Ah, Madame Berthe,
we will need a full
wardrobe for the season
for Camille...
the daughter of a dear friend.
It is a pleasure always
to help you, madame.
What rags are these?
Fresh ribbons, madame.
Berthe, I will choose.
White...
like the chameleon.
Ah! Bah-bah-bah.
He does not deserve your pain.
- I loved him.
- Love is lethal, Camille.
Explore your own heart, but
study the hearts of others.
Trust me when I tell you
your lover...
is your future enemy.
Men think
they pluck us, Camille,
when we are ripe
and at our sweetest.
Our skill is in letting
them believe that.
That privilege you spoke of...
wealth and power...
I wanted it, too.
But marriage without
love...
is a prison.
I managed mine with
painstaking effort.
I perfected a façade...
never allowing the truth
of what I thought
or felt to show.
And...
piece by piece,
secret by secret...
I escaped the confines
of my marriage...
built a wall around my heart
for a life that was mine...
completely...
life where I could have
all that I wanted
without consequence.
My one mistake was Valmont.
I allowed the truth of what
I thought and felt to show.
Worse, I wrote it down.
Your pain shows.
Good.
Then I'll always remember.
What?
What I would otherwise
choose to forget.
No, you must learn to hide it,
because I believe you
can survive in this world
where men have all the
power and we have none.
Hide your pain...
and close your heart to love
and the ruin it threatens.
With you, the tide might change.
And what I began...
you may finish.
Are you ready?
Where have
you been, my love?
I've been searching
for your title.
But it is not vicomte.
It is not marquis,
nor duke.
Well, I can hardly
bear the anticipation,
though baron would feel
entirely underwhelming.
It is...
blackmailer.
And I have only to call it out,
and it is you who will
be dead to this society.
And I have only to send
one letter to your husband.
One letter.
Then send it, Valmont...
if you have it.
Hmm.
Welcome...
to the opera, Camille.
She is
Babel...
the very danger that
it is my work to stop,
and here I am, bewitched.
Therefore, evil
shall come upon thee.
Thou shalt not know
from whence it rises.
Do you mean evil
shall come upon you...
or upon her?
Perhaps us both.