Nicolas Le Floch (2008–2018): Season 3, Episode 2 - Le grand veneur - full transcript
THE GREAT HUNTSMAN
Your father had
quite a peaceful night.
This morning he asked for broth,
which I allowed him.
If there are no complications,
he'll shake it off.
The broth?
Part Two
Isabeau.
Isabeau.
Isabeau, it's me.
It's Thomas.
Is everything all right?
Vincent.
If you don't mind
leaving us alone...
It's not exactly
a confession, commissioner.
Do you remember,
Isabeau, that I was
the priest at your wedding?
Do you remember I often heard
your confessions,
along with your mother's
and sisters'?
If you're here,
it must mean I'm dying.
You have no need
to fear death, child.
It doesn't matter.
Time is running out, Isabeau.
What can you tell us
about the beast?
I saw it.
I saw it on a horse
at the top of the cliff
and seemed to be
giving orders,
while they threw down a body.
A mutilated body.
The tautness and elasticity
are like the beast's.
Each of one of you struck it,
yet look.
Not one bullet went through.
We did hit the animal.
Its survival wasn't a miracle
or supernatural invincibility.
It was just heavily armored.
With thick leather.
What if the species
remains unknown?
That's a fine weapon
you have there, sir.
It belonged to royal troops,
before it came to me.
Very fine.
-The kind you hardly ever see.
-Move back, you lout.
Peas, bacon and wine.
For a large group.
Nothing's better than hunger for
driving beasts out of the woods.
It seems they found
the corpse of Vincent Mairet
and captured the madwoman.
Young Mairet's body
has been found.
His wife is now
at Ch?teau d'Allas.
I told you we should have
eliminated her.
No, my lady.
We've nothing to fear from her.
Another thing, my lord.
A group of deserters
is camping in the forest.
One whose leader
appears to be paid in gold.
Gold, you say?
Find out where they're camped.
Make sure they're
under our surveillance.
It seems the young marquis
has had an effect on you.
Perhaps it's time we pay
our respects.
You seem frustrated and distant.
My lady, I'd rather
you weren't involved in this.
You're wrong. Nothing gets
the blood up like a good ride.
This isn't a ride, my lady.
You and the Duchess
of Langremont
at the house of the Count
and Countess of Rhodes.
Isn't it unseemly
for your surgeon to come, too?
Seemliness has nothing to do
with this,
unless you're referring to
the equipment you're carrying.
It's a seaman's weapon
I've had a long time.
It's quite useful when fighting
at close quarters.
Stay here, Bourdeau.
If by chance we're not back
in 48 hours,
give your report to the
lieutenant general of police.
Wait!
Here.
Take this gun.
It's got 3 barrels that can fire
separately or all at once.
And you can hide it
in your boot. Be alert.
See you soon, my friend.
What's going on, Nicolas?
Notice the sudden silence?
Our presence, probably.
To the right, Semacgus!
Some men were waiting to ambush
you. My men surprised them.
This one seems to be the leader.
Take him, and all who were
lucky enough to work for him.
What do you plan to do
with them?
Hang them at once,
as is my right, according
to both high and low justice,
on my lands.
Rather summary justice, my lord.
Could be.
However, it's mine, and I don't
see why I should do otherwise.
Roussart, hang them all.
May I speak for a minute?
Please do.
Who's behind this?
A powerful enemy,
whom I know only by sight,
and who is seeking your ruin.
I'm about to die.
I'd rather die a soldier
instead of being hung.
One bullet, sir.
One bullet from you
and I'll tell you what I know.
I'm about to die.
Ferrailles.
The Marchioness of Aubrac.
A humane gesture, my lord.
Though it doesn't change
anything in the end.
Go on.
My lord. My lady.
Please follow me.
I don't remember
inviting you, sir.
Your rudeness is only equaled
by your cruelty, my lord.
As for my accompanying
the marquis,
you have no right to stop me.
Let's go, Henri.
My lord.
We had to untie Isabeau
for a while.
She's escaped.
There's nothing
to block the view,
and the cliff
is dizzyingly high.
There may be 3 of us soon.
Three? How so?
I'm going to be a mother.
-A massacre.
-On the edge of the forest.
There's no debating it:
The land belongs
to the Count of Rhodes.
The law is on his side.
-Hung, you say?
-Yes.
When I left, they were already
being hung, dead or alive,
from a strong branch hanging
like a yard across a mast.
The man's intractability
is clear.
It may well be that the marquis
and his companion have escaped
one mortal peril
only to land in even worse.
Is there a way to get them out?
Without calling in troops?
I don't see how.
Well, my lady marchioness, are
your chambers to your liking?
Duchess, my lady. The marquis
and I are not yet joined
by the holy bonds of matrimony.
"Not yet" sometimes means
"never," my lady.
What news can you tell us
from Versailles?
Not much,
as I'm hardly at court.
You've hardly drunk anything,
my lord.
You seem worried.
I just received
some highly unexpected news
which has changed
matters abruptly.
It happens more often
than you'd think.
Tell me, my lord.
How about a hunt
on my land tomorrow?
Good.
"Highly unexpected news."
I'm not asking you for anything.
I can be a single mother
and live discreetly.
That's not it.
I hardly knew my parents.
I don't know
what kind of father I'd be.
My lord, you've been summoned.
I'm afraid
I don't understand, my lady.
You understand quite well.
You can't be serious.
What about the count?
Incapacitated as he is,
the count knows
there's nothing I dislike more
than being denied.
Come, my lord.
Is the prey
not to your liking?
It's just...
I don't like easy conquests,
and I don't shoot on command.
Let your passion ignite.
-My lady.
-Do it!
That's enough, my lady.
Get hold of yourself.
Well, my lord.
You must admit
the circumstances are ambiguous.
The situation is outrageous,
at the very least.
Agreed?
This is where my ancestors
used to dispense justice.
You're quite familiar with
courts yourself, aren't you?
Isn't that so?
What are you looking at
that arouses
such passionate interest?
If you please?
Excuse me, my lord?
That head, my lord.
Like you, the young Count
d'Allas was highly impertinent.
He had carnal relations
with the countess?
Indeed, my lord.
You surprised them together
and took your revenge.
Your premise is good,
but not your conclusion.
Your rational approach
ignores certain perversions
of the spirit.
I love the countess
and I'm well aware
she has appetites that,
after a certain
unfortunate incident,
I can no longer satisfy.
So I let her satisfy them
with whomever she pleases,
with one condition:
that after she's tired of her
prey, he then becomes mine.
Your honesty fascinates me,
my lord.
The other victims, however...
They don't enter
into the equation,
as they're without rank
and title.
So...
What do you have to say
in your defense?
Hurry.
-Quickly, get dressed.
-What's going on?
We must find a way out.
Blow the candles out
and pass them to me.
Careful.
This way.
Come on, through here.
No!
Are you all right?
Come.
Come, my lord.
Just a bit farther
and you'll have made it.
I didn't expect any less
from you.
To tell you the truth,
despite its futility, this
attempt is part of the game.
Let the duchess go.
I swear she'll say nothing.
Don't make promises
you won't be able to keep.
I promised you a hunt.
Of course I probably neglected
to mention the prey.
Roussart.
Time's up.
Release the hounds.
After you, my lady.
Go! Faster!
That was close.
Get back, my lady!
Move!
Come in, sir.
Look at you!
Such contentment.
I gather your trip was restful,
even contemplative.
Gentlemen, I'm all ears.
First,
there's no beast of Sarlat.
Just 2 hounds whose master,
the Count of Rhodes,
sometimes let loose
for his own entertainment.
They nearly sparked
a terrifying superstition
because of both the barbarity
of their actions
and their
so-called invulnerability.
Lower, Bourdeau.
Not so big.
Thus armored,
the 2 animals were bulletproof.
-Second...
-Second.
This dagger belonged
to the Count of Rhodes.
This is a wax cast,
taken by the executioner Sanson.
It's an exact copy of the heart
of young Count d'Allas.
Look at this wound.
See how perfectly one fits
into the other.
Imagine the gesture's precision,
as well
as its cold determination.
Enough, Nicolas.
Imagine...
...the young count
being tracked, then slain.
The proof is his head,
neatly sliced off,
and found
in the Count of Rhodes' armory.
I hope
you don't plan on showing it.
Oh, no. These are
just some dirty clothes
I haven't yet found time
to take care of.
-The head...
-Enough, I said.
...has been returned
to his family, of course.
What about the perpetrator
of the crimes?
The Count of Rhodes.
Thank you.
His manservant's statement
implicates him beyond any doubt.
He died by his own hand,
using his own dagger,
rendering
any legal action futile.
So much the better.
His Majesty detests breaking
the high born on the wheel.
And the last item?
An infantry musket,
which was used
in 3 attempts to murder me.
I understand.
I understand, commissioner.
But don't they say
that a policeman's trade
is full of peril
and his career full of courage?
Ferrailles.
Condemned to torture.
I was puzzled that someone
had intervened for him,
so I investigated.
I investigated.
My secret police
have an interest
in sexual indiscretions.
It wasn't hard
to uncover
Ferrailles' background.
It's enough for you to know
he was the product of a liaison
between
the Marchioness of Aubrac,
a former mistress of the Prince
of Conti, and her footman.
Her position,
and that of others,
shortened the punishment.
My promise to reveal
even more embarrassing secrets
ensured any further attempt
at vengeance be abandoned.
The danger has passed, Nicolas.
You may amuse His Majesty
with your exploits
at a more convenient time.
For now, you may withdraw.
Speaking of withdrawing,
-actually...
-Yes?
Haven't you forgotten
to tell me something?
About what?
About withdrawing,
or rather, failing to do so.
Well, Nicolas?
I don't know
how you found out,
but there's no doubt about it:
Your police are rather good.
Translation: Elise Pineda
TV5 Qu?bec Canada
Your father had
quite a peaceful night.
This morning he asked for broth,
which I allowed him.
If there are no complications,
he'll shake it off.
The broth?
Part Two
Isabeau.
Isabeau.
Isabeau, it's me.
It's Thomas.
Is everything all right?
Vincent.
If you don't mind
leaving us alone...
It's not exactly
a confession, commissioner.
Do you remember,
Isabeau, that I was
the priest at your wedding?
Do you remember I often heard
your confessions,
along with your mother's
and sisters'?
If you're here,
it must mean I'm dying.
You have no need
to fear death, child.
It doesn't matter.
Time is running out, Isabeau.
What can you tell us
about the beast?
I saw it.
I saw it on a horse
at the top of the cliff
and seemed to be
giving orders,
while they threw down a body.
A mutilated body.
The tautness and elasticity
are like the beast's.
Each of one of you struck it,
yet look.
Not one bullet went through.
We did hit the animal.
Its survival wasn't a miracle
or supernatural invincibility.
It was just heavily armored.
With thick leather.
What if the species
remains unknown?
That's a fine weapon
you have there, sir.
It belonged to royal troops,
before it came to me.
Very fine.
-The kind you hardly ever see.
-Move back, you lout.
Peas, bacon and wine.
For a large group.
Nothing's better than hunger for
driving beasts out of the woods.
It seems they found
the corpse of Vincent Mairet
and captured the madwoman.
Young Mairet's body
has been found.
His wife is now
at Ch?teau d'Allas.
I told you we should have
eliminated her.
No, my lady.
We've nothing to fear from her.
Another thing, my lord.
A group of deserters
is camping in the forest.
One whose leader
appears to be paid in gold.
Gold, you say?
Find out where they're camped.
Make sure they're
under our surveillance.
It seems the young marquis
has had an effect on you.
Perhaps it's time we pay
our respects.
You seem frustrated and distant.
My lady, I'd rather
you weren't involved in this.
You're wrong. Nothing gets
the blood up like a good ride.
This isn't a ride, my lady.
You and the Duchess
of Langremont
at the house of the Count
and Countess of Rhodes.
Isn't it unseemly
for your surgeon to come, too?
Seemliness has nothing to do
with this,
unless you're referring to
the equipment you're carrying.
It's a seaman's weapon
I've had a long time.
It's quite useful when fighting
at close quarters.
Stay here, Bourdeau.
If by chance we're not back
in 48 hours,
give your report to the
lieutenant general of police.
Wait!
Here.
Take this gun.
It's got 3 barrels that can fire
separately or all at once.
And you can hide it
in your boot. Be alert.
See you soon, my friend.
What's going on, Nicolas?
Notice the sudden silence?
Our presence, probably.
To the right, Semacgus!
Some men were waiting to ambush
you. My men surprised them.
This one seems to be the leader.
Take him, and all who were
lucky enough to work for him.
What do you plan to do
with them?
Hang them at once,
as is my right, according
to both high and low justice,
on my lands.
Rather summary justice, my lord.
Could be.
However, it's mine, and I don't
see why I should do otherwise.
Roussart, hang them all.
May I speak for a minute?
Please do.
Who's behind this?
A powerful enemy,
whom I know only by sight,
and who is seeking your ruin.
I'm about to die.
I'd rather die a soldier
instead of being hung.
One bullet, sir.
One bullet from you
and I'll tell you what I know.
I'm about to die.
Ferrailles.
The Marchioness of Aubrac.
A humane gesture, my lord.
Though it doesn't change
anything in the end.
Go on.
My lord. My lady.
Please follow me.
I don't remember
inviting you, sir.
Your rudeness is only equaled
by your cruelty, my lord.
As for my accompanying
the marquis,
you have no right to stop me.
Let's go, Henri.
My lord.
We had to untie Isabeau
for a while.
She's escaped.
There's nothing
to block the view,
and the cliff
is dizzyingly high.
There may be 3 of us soon.
Three? How so?
I'm going to be a mother.
-A massacre.
-On the edge of the forest.
There's no debating it:
The land belongs
to the Count of Rhodes.
The law is on his side.
-Hung, you say?
-Yes.
When I left, they were already
being hung, dead or alive,
from a strong branch hanging
like a yard across a mast.
The man's intractability
is clear.
It may well be that the marquis
and his companion have escaped
one mortal peril
only to land in even worse.
Is there a way to get them out?
Without calling in troops?
I don't see how.
Well, my lady marchioness, are
your chambers to your liking?
Duchess, my lady. The marquis
and I are not yet joined
by the holy bonds of matrimony.
"Not yet" sometimes means
"never," my lady.
What news can you tell us
from Versailles?
Not much,
as I'm hardly at court.
You've hardly drunk anything,
my lord.
You seem worried.
I just received
some highly unexpected news
which has changed
matters abruptly.
It happens more often
than you'd think.
Tell me, my lord.
How about a hunt
on my land tomorrow?
Good.
"Highly unexpected news."
I'm not asking you for anything.
I can be a single mother
and live discreetly.
That's not it.
I hardly knew my parents.
I don't know
what kind of father I'd be.
My lord, you've been summoned.
I'm afraid
I don't understand, my lady.
You understand quite well.
You can't be serious.
What about the count?
Incapacitated as he is,
the count knows
there's nothing I dislike more
than being denied.
Come, my lord.
Is the prey
not to your liking?
It's just...
I don't like easy conquests,
and I don't shoot on command.
Let your passion ignite.
-My lady.
-Do it!
That's enough, my lady.
Get hold of yourself.
Well, my lord.
You must admit
the circumstances are ambiguous.
The situation is outrageous,
at the very least.
Agreed?
This is where my ancestors
used to dispense justice.
You're quite familiar with
courts yourself, aren't you?
Isn't that so?
What are you looking at
that arouses
such passionate interest?
If you please?
Excuse me, my lord?
That head, my lord.
Like you, the young Count
d'Allas was highly impertinent.
He had carnal relations
with the countess?
Indeed, my lord.
You surprised them together
and took your revenge.
Your premise is good,
but not your conclusion.
Your rational approach
ignores certain perversions
of the spirit.
I love the countess
and I'm well aware
she has appetites that,
after a certain
unfortunate incident,
I can no longer satisfy.
So I let her satisfy them
with whomever she pleases,
with one condition:
that after she's tired of her
prey, he then becomes mine.
Your honesty fascinates me,
my lord.
The other victims, however...
They don't enter
into the equation,
as they're without rank
and title.
So...
What do you have to say
in your defense?
Hurry.
-Quickly, get dressed.
-What's going on?
We must find a way out.
Blow the candles out
and pass them to me.
Careful.
This way.
Come on, through here.
No!
Are you all right?
Come.
Come, my lord.
Just a bit farther
and you'll have made it.
I didn't expect any less
from you.
To tell you the truth,
despite its futility, this
attempt is part of the game.
Let the duchess go.
I swear she'll say nothing.
Don't make promises
you won't be able to keep.
I promised you a hunt.
Of course I probably neglected
to mention the prey.
Roussart.
Time's up.
Release the hounds.
After you, my lady.
Go! Faster!
That was close.
Get back, my lady!
Move!
Come in, sir.
Look at you!
Such contentment.
I gather your trip was restful,
even contemplative.
Gentlemen, I'm all ears.
First,
there's no beast of Sarlat.
Just 2 hounds whose master,
the Count of Rhodes,
sometimes let loose
for his own entertainment.
They nearly sparked
a terrifying superstition
because of both the barbarity
of their actions
and their
so-called invulnerability.
Lower, Bourdeau.
Not so big.
Thus armored,
the 2 animals were bulletproof.
-Second...
-Second.
This dagger belonged
to the Count of Rhodes.
This is a wax cast,
taken by the executioner Sanson.
It's an exact copy of the heart
of young Count d'Allas.
Look at this wound.
See how perfectly one fits
into the other.
Imagine the gesture's precision,
as well
as its cold determination.
Enough, Nicolas.
Imagine...
...the young count
being tracked, then slain.
The proof is his head,
neatly sliced off,
and found
in the Count of Rhodes' armory.
I hope
you don't plan on showing it.
Oh, no. These are
just some dirty clothes
I haven't yet found time
to take care of.
-The head...
-Enough, I said.
...has been returned
to his family, of course.
What about the perpetrator
of the crimes?
The Count of Rhodes.
Thank you.
His manservant's statement
implicates him beyond any doubt.
He died by his own hand,
using his own dagger,
rendering
any legal action futile.
So much the better.
His Majesty detests breaking
the high born on the wheel.
And the last item?
An infantry musket,
which was used
in 3 attempts to murder me.
I understand.
I understand, commissioner.
But don't they say
that a policeman's trade
is full of peril
and his career full of courage?
Ferrailles.
Condemned to torture.
I was puzzled that someone
had intervened for him,
so I investigated.
I investigated.
My secret police
have an interest
in sexual indiscretions.
It wasn't hard
to uncover
Ferrailles' background.
It's enough for you to know
he was the product of a liaison
between
the Marchioness of Aubrac,
a former mistress of the Prince
of Conti, and her footman.
Her position,
and that of others,
shortened the punishment.
My promise to reveal
even more embarrassing secrets
ensured any further attempt
at vengeance be abandoned.
The danger has passed, Nicolas.
You may amuse His Majesty
with your exploits
at a more convenient time.
For now, you may withdraw.
Speaking of withdrawing,
-actually...
-Yes?
Haven't you forgotten
to tell me something?
About what?
About withdrawing,
or rather, failing to do so.
Well, Nicolas?
I don't know
how you found out,
but there's no doubt about it:
Your police are rather good.
Translation: Elise Pineda
TV5 Qu?bec Canada