The Count of Monte Cristo (1964): Season 1, Episode 12 - An End to Revenge - full transcript

More than twenty years after his unjust imprisonment, Edmond comes to the end of his quest for vengeance.

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I suppose you come
to sympathize with me,

for indeed misfortune has taken
possession of my house.

I was just thinking that a number
of my old acquaintances

have been very
unfortunate this year.

Morcerf,
dishonored and dead.

Mercedes,
retired to the country.

Albert, about to enter the army.

At least they will not be poor.

But they will.
It seems they had scruples.

Something to do with tainted money,
guiltily acquired.

They've given their entire
inheritance to the hospitals.



But surely that was
an act of great nobility.

Utter folly,
I should have thought.

Utter folly.

Then there's myself,
covered with ridicule

through the villainy
of Cavalcanti... Benedetto.

- And now...
- A new calamity?

- My daughter Eugénie has left us.
- Good heavens!

The truth!

You have neither wife nor children.
How happy you must be.

Do you think so?

Poor girl.

I doubt if her pride will ever
allow her to return to France.

At least she will have
the sympathy of all her friends.

Indeed.
I shall be a laughingstock.



I can hardly bear
to think about it.

You're quite wrong of course.

And who would dare to ridicule
the man of your affluence?

You, the king of finance.

- You really think so?
- I'm positive.

So long as your fabulous
wealth lasts.

Just so long, Baron Danglars,
you are quite safe from public contempt.

You're in the right, Count.

As long as I'm able to put my signature
to a piece of paper like this,

you can call me a happy man.

When you called, I was on the point
of signing five little bonds.

I've already signed two.
Will you allow me to sign the others?

Pray due, sir.
Are they Spanish bonds?

No, no.

They're bonds on the Bank of France,
payable to the bearer.

Have you many pieces
of paper of this size, Count?

Each worth a million?

To the governor of the bank, please
pay to my order from the puns

deposited by me the sum of one
million livres, Baron Danglars.

One, two, three,
four, five million.

That's the way
I conduct business.

No, this is really wonderful,
particularly if,

as you say,
they are payable at sight.

They are indeed.

And to have five million
in five little pieces of paper,

it really has to be
seen to be believed.

You shall be convinced.

Take my clerk to the bank
and you shall see him leave

with an order on the Treasury
for the same sum.

No, certainly not.
The thing is so curious

that I'm determined
to make the experiment myself.

What do you mean?

That money,
I'm afraid, is already...

But, my dear Baron Danglars,
I'm credited with you for six million.

I've only drawn one.

You still owe me five million.

Do you know you're
a mind reader?

I call on you this morning
expressly to collect them.

Excuse me,
but not that money.

Forgive me, Count. What I mean...
I'm indeed no mind-reader.

I owe that money
to the new railroad company.

It's a deposit I promised
to pay this morning.

You disappoint me, Mr. le Baron.

However, since my need is just as
great as that of your railroad company,

I will take this and you will
have the added pleasure

of signing new bonds for
five million on the same day.

Impossible.

Then the railroad company
shall wait until tomorrow.

They can certainly afford it.
Here's my receipt.

You see, I came prepared.

"Received du Baron Danglars
a sum of 5 million livres"

"which will be repaid
whenever he pleases"

"by the house of Thomson
& French in Rue..."

After all, why not?
A favor to you my dear count.

Your receipt is, after all, money.

In any capital in the world.

- Goodbye, my dear Baron.
- Good day.

Good day, monsieur.

What the hell do you want?

Mr. Beauchamp is here,
Mr. Le Baron,

and wishes to speak to you.

Beauchamp?
Very well, show him in.

This way, monsieur.

- Mr. Beauchamp.
- Good morning, Baron Danglars.

I passed our friend
Monte Cristo on the stairs.

Yes, he wanted some money,
a little matter of five million.

Five million?

Yes, he went away with
the money in his pocket.

You amaze me, Baron.

I'm a financier mr. Beauchamp.

But to what do I owe
the pleasure of this visit?

I wanted to interview you.

To obtain your reaction
to the news from Spain.

I'm surprised you did
not call before.

After all it is more
than 48 hours since...

How shall I put it?

... my judgment and intuition brought me
the rewards of a great financial coup.

Do you consider yourself
as a financial genius, Baron?

Words of yours Mr. Beauchamp.
I would express the matter more modestly,

however it is perhaps
best to judge by results.

Baron Danglars,
if you had made a mistake

and Don Carlos had not
returned to Spain what then?

Would this have meant
a crisis in your affairs?

Mr. Beauchamp, a successful banker
never gambles but there are times,

exceptional times,
when he will take a certain risk.

In this case the degree
of risk was infinitesimal.

- But it existed.
- It did.

The events have proved I was fully
justified in the action I took.

I see.

But why this line of inquiry?
If you came here wanting...

I came here, Mr. le Baron,
assuming that a man of your eminence

would keep himself at least
as well informed as a mere journalist.

- What are you saying?
- That you are not abreast of events.

I, not abreast of events?

For two days, fog in the Loire Valley
has obstructed the telegraph.

The fog has now lifted,
the service's once more in operation.

I have had the latest reports.
Don Carlos did not return to Spain.

Barcelona did not rise
in his favor.

He is still
in our custody at Bourges.

- It's a lie.
- And you are a ruined man.

It's a lie.

No, my dear Baron,
it's the perfect truth.

The news? His escape?

That was a telegraphic error.

But it's true.

I heard it from
Mme. de Villefort herself.

Her father has dismissed
her to a convent.

Where is she now?
At home. Under guard.

This is one of the worst things
I've ever heard.

God forgive me it is I
who've done this to Valentine.

No, do not speak this monsieur.

How should I otherwise?
It's true.

When a woman loves,
no sacrifice is too great for her.

- And there will be no sacrifice.
- What do you mean?

I mean that you will marry your Valentine
and that you will live happily ever after.

No jests at such a time.

Maximilian, listen to me.
You know that within the hour

de Villefort is presenting
the prosecution's case against Benedetto?

Yes.

While he is thus engaged,

you will take Ali and go to
the house of the Procureur du Roi

and abduct his daughter.

But this is madness.

Ali, who is worth ten men in such
a situation, will cover your retreat.

One of my carriages will be waiting
to take you to Marseille,

where you will meet a man called Penelon,
who will be waiting your arrival.

Penelon?

An old sailor who was once
in the service of your father.

Yes, I know that, but...
How do you?

Ask no questions.

He will convey you in my yacht
to the Isle of Monte Cristo

when I will join you
within a matter of days.

Trust me.

But what you propose
is sheer insanity.

We wouldn't travel more than
20 leagues before we were seized.

Nothing of the kind
will happen, my friend.

Have you ever known me to fail
in what I promised to perform?

Never.

Then if you love your Valentine,
do what I'm telling you to do now.

- What is there to be afraid?
- Her father's vengeance.

You're both safe
from him already.

Does that,
Mr. le Procureur du Roi,

conclude your indictment
against the accused?

- It does, Mr. le Président.
- We thank you, monsieur.

Accused.

State your name and surname.

Excuse me, Mr. le Président.

I claim to be in
an exceptional situation

and would beg that the order
of the formal question

which you're bound to address
to me at this stage be reversed.

Very well, the court is prepared
to indulge you in this, but only in this.

- What is your age?
- I'm 21.

Or rather,
I shall be in a few days.

I was born on the 27th
of September, 1817.

And where were you born?

At Auteuil, near Paris.

And your profession?

I've followed various callings.
Lately, I've become an assassin.

I see.

Having confessed your guilt,
you are hoping

by the final revelation of your name
to create an unparalleled situation.

How well you read my mind,
Mr. le President.

That's precisely my intention.

Well, what is your name?

I cannot tell you,
since I do not know it.

I know my father's name
and can give you that.

What is your father's name?

My father
is the Procureur du Roi.

The Procureur du Roi?

Silence!

Silence.

Are you playing with justice,
accused?

Gentlemen, God forbid
I should insult the court.

What I've said,
I'm ready to prove.

But in your examination, you called
yourself Benedetto, an orphan,

and claimed Corsica
as your country.

I repeat, I'm the son
of the Procureur du Roi, Mr. de Villefort.

I was born on the date I'd given you,
at 28, Rue La Fontaine.

As soon as the midwife delivered me,
my father took me in his arms,

telling my mother I was dead,

wrapped me in a napkin
marked with an H and an N,

and took me into the garden,
where he buried me alive.

Are you asking us to believe
that you were a newly born infant,

you survived this ordeal?

Of course,
I wouldn't be here otherwise.

The explanation
is somewhat too involved.

I've no wish to take up
the court's time unnecessarily.

Perhaps your ingenuity
has failed you.

By no means, Mr. le Président.

The truth never taxes
one's powers of invention.

We shall see!

You, a self-confessed murderer,
claim an illustrious man as your father!

Your mother, no doubt,
was equally illustrious.

My mother, monsieur, thought me dead.
No guilt attaches to her.

I have not wished to know
her name nor do I know it.

To this tissue of horrors you bring,
I must admit, a sort of conviction,

but without strong proof to sustain it,
it's of little value as evidence.

- Proof? You demand proof?
- Certainly.

Then look at Mr. de Villefort.

There lies your proof.

Mr. de Villefort.

True.

True.

Yes, it's true.

It's quite true.

All is true.

Who are you?

Who are you?

I'm Edmond Dantès.

Edmond Dantès?

Very well, Baron.
Five million livres.

- Are you staying long in Rome?
- No

But long enough
to see the sights, no doubt.

You're mistaken, Mr. Thomson.

I did not come here
to see but to touch

Good day, monsieur.

Very good day to you,
Baron Danglars.

To my hotel.

Devil!

That's right excellency.
I am he.

For heavens,
where are you taking me?

To hell, signor.

To hell.

Monsieur?

Valentine has gone.

No, no. I'll find it.
I swear I'll find it.

It was not my fault.

- Leave me, woman! Leave me!
- Please let me explain.

Don't worry.
I'm going to find it. Now.

God!

For God's sake, give me peace!

Where's the wall?

The door.

The door.

The wall.
The door in the wall.

The door to the stairs
to the garden.

Human wretch, this is torture.

Torture,
I'm not eating for 24 hours.

24 hours!

Just one moment, Excellency.

Here people pay before they eat.

- Pay?
- Well, certainly.

You have money.
Why should you not pay?

Very well, I'm too hungry to care.
How much?

One million livres.

Indeed. That's funny.
That's very funny indeed.

You see,
I can take a joke in the next...

It's no joke, Excellency.

You have five million livres
in your pocket.

You can afford to pay
what we ask.

A million livres?

For a dish of chicken
and a bottle of wine?

You'll be sticking to a man.

Friggin' bandit.

Bandit.

I'll die of hunger.

I'll die of hunger.

Very well, Excellency. Die.

I know the sacrifice
you have made.

I know that you've given
the Morcerf's fortune to charity

and that you will take nothing
from Monte Cristo.

This is the key
of that humble apartment

that young Dantès the sailor
lived in long time ago.

He gives it to you now.

This box contains the small treasures
that he amassed against his wedding day.

They're yours,
because they were always yours.

It often happens.

That a first fault destroys
the prospects of a whole life.

I believed you dead.

Why did I survive you?

What good has it done to mourn you
eternally in my heart?

I'm an evil omen
to those who surround me.

Mercedes.

You should not speak so.

You're a noble-minded woman.

You deal with yourself
with too much severity.

Will you not even say
that you will see me again?

We must say farewell.

Let us part.

Before I go, Mercedes...

...have you no request to make?

I desire but one thing
in the world, Edmond.

The happiness of my son.

I will do everything in my power
to promote this happiness.

Thank you.

Thank you, Edmond.

Edmond...

Edmond...

Something wrong with the food?

No.

I spent...

... five million livres
on five meals.

How shall I pay for my next?

It's very simple, Excellency.
If you can't pay, you don't eat.

- Then?
- And then?

I suppose you'll suffer hunger.

And after you've suffered long enough,
I suppose you will die.

Let me live.
Let me live here.

Not in liberty anymore.
Just life.

You're suffering.

Monte Cristo?

- You are mistaken.
- Then who are you?

I am the man you sold
and dishonoured.

I am the man whose betrothed
you prostituted.

I am the man on whom
you trampled to raise to fortune.

Because of me, the Morcerf
has blown out his brains.

Because of me, the Villefort
has lost his reason.

Because of me,
you have lost your riches

and may never return
to your native land.

I am Edmond Dantès.

Get up.

I have condemned
you to die of starvation.

I have forgiven you because...

Is everything prepared
to sail for Monte Cristo?

Of course.
But what about him?

Let him go.

But why?

Why did you never
tell me that it was you

who saved my dear father's life?

Because I grew to love you
as I loved him.

You gave me your friendship.

And I valued it the more.

Because I knew that it was not
inspired by any gratitude

that you might have felt
had you known the facts.

My friends...

... tomorrow we feast.

Tomorrow
we shall see the marriage I did.

Valentine,

to you I give one half
of my fortune as your dowry.

Maximilian,

to you I entrust the most precious
possession a man ever had.

Love her and protect her always.

For now she will be alone
in the world.

Alone in the world?

And why?

Because, Haydée, tomorrow you will
assume your proper position in society.

I restore to you your fortune
and the name of your father.

I will not allow my destiny
to overshadow yours.

Then you leave me, my kord.

Haydée,
you're young and beautiful.

Forget even my name
and be happy.

It is all?
I shall obey.

I shall forget even your name
and be happy.

- What are you saying?
- I am young.

I love the life you have made
so sweet for me

and will sure regret to leave it.

Haydée, do you mean
that if I leave you...

I must die, my lord.
Yes.

Do you then...

... love me?

Not as your daughter.

But as a woman,
as a mistress, as a wife.

In these ways do I love you.

Love me then, Haydée.

Who knows?

Your love might help me to forget
those things I wish not to remember.

There is neither misery
nor happiness in the world.

There is only the comparison
of one state with another.

He who has felt the deepest grief
is best able to partake

of intense happiness.

And never forget,

that all human wisdom
is contained in these two words.

Wait...

... and hope.

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