Let Joy Reign Supreme (1975) Script

"But all this love which I will give, where will I take it?"... Jacques Audiberti

Brethren, warn the field mice to retreat within three days or we shall declare them excommunicated!

Amen!

This one is the nicest. Take it, don't be afraid.

Let me show you another.

You'll see.

Here, look. This one is the prettiest of all.

Name's Julia like my own girl.

Let's go see mama and your little friend's mama too.

She's the same.

You're sisters.

We'll share the doll.

Fine then, let's go!

Here we go.

Wait!

Hey!


Who paid you to abduct these girls?

Go on... confess! You're about to die!

He confessed before dying.

The Regent wanted to deport your girls to Louisiana.

Your own daughters! Fodder for the American savages!

Tomorrow that will be you, deported or starved.

Give him a Christian burial.

BRITTANY, Palm Sunday 1719, 4 years after Louis XIV's death.

Let Joy Reign Supreme...


Don't forget that Spain...

Go on.

Spain has agreed to land troops in Brittany.

But we're at war with Spain, sir.

Not I.

The Spanish monarch is Louis' heir and my king.

The Regent is a usurper.

If you must appeal to Spain, I am not with you.

But I shan't give you away.

Then put your mask back on before you leave.

Before calling on Spain, I suggest we issue an ultimatum to the regent.

A delegation.

One man will do. I'll go.

I'm of noble blood and Captain of the Dragoons.

Even the infamous Regent respects the military.

No masks here.

My husband was unable to come.

Oh, no, my dear Helena.

We are among men. Exclusively.

And if I keep my beard?

Oh, my... then... I cannot refuse.

Of course, this trip...

Off to Spain, Cousin?

To Paris, my dear, it's less costly.

Once again, friends, I must ask you for funds.

Once again.

Bed and board, sir!

And you know my appetite.

A bank note?

I've never seen one before.

You don't want it?

Oh, I'll take anything, even the Regent's notes.

It's hard, sir, but when the wine is drawn... it must be drunk.


Some water.

Some water quickly.

Please come back, Madam.

Look at this.

It's rare to see a brain reduced to half its normal size.

She died of that?

No, Madam.

It's an old injury.

She may have been born with it.

No, the Duchess died of congestion due to excessive food and drink.

Gluttony did her in.

Please, Doctor.

I saved her life when she was six with herb tea.

That's all she was drinking at the time.

She died from your doctoring.

Otherwise, we might have saved her.

Brain damage... that would explain certain things.

That she was mad?

Mad? No, my Lord, but surely different.

That's why I loved her.

She'd have hurt you more.

They say she was four months pregnant.

I'd have accepted... her husband, her child... everything.

I'll miss the pain she'd have caused me.

You have other daughters.

Death did not strike blindly.

It took what I held dearest.

God is evil.

Have you no fear, my Lord?

Could he be more cruel?

You may retire, Madam.

You've had a long, hard night.

So have you, milord.

No, I slept.

It's the day I fear.

The maid told me you were here.

I was surprised... under the circumstances.

I don't feel it yet, Dubois, so I'm working while I can.

I'm not sure Montesquiou really grasps this Brittany affair.

So we have a few stubborn nobles under the Marquis of Pontcallec dreaming of a Breton Republic with no taxes to pay.

But a republic of what?

Poor country squires.

But peasants, the really poor, no.

Not a one.

Peasant and nobleman can't be brothers, even if they're both beggars.

They don't mix.

So... where will they get troops?

From Spain.

The Bretons won't ask for foreign aid, especially from Spain.

Your own relatives did during the Spanish plot.

A plot, you remember, that we calmly stifled without bloodshed.

We made them look so ludicrous that no one dared participate.

You even rewarded your kidnapper.

For bravery... attempting to carry off a man of my weight.

I'm glad to see you so jovial.

You all expected me to sink and drown.

What a disappointment.

But I'm delighted.

Who am I without you? Not even archbishop.

Tell Montesquiou to go easy, to arrest Pontcallec if he likes, but not a drop of blood must be spilled.

The provisions for my daughter's mourning.

Did the autopsy show anything?

No, nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

The King only mourns six weeks?

Six weeks.

Even that is too long for a child of nine.


That girl is one of La Fillon's whores!

They wouldn't fuck in church?

Not at a memorial mass for his daughter.

Tell me... did Joufflotte really sleep with her father?

That's not for a common coachman's ears.


I'm late because we got lost.

I always do in the country.

Thank you for coming.

I've never fancied mass, but I'm glad someone remembers her.

Twelve people... not so bad after a month's time.

They say she died a saint's death... took the sacraments in public...

There were many people...

She spoke like a queen... asking forgiveness for her sins.

She was mad.

All my children are mad, Emily.

My eldest an abbess who's married to Christ.

I don't get along with my son... in... law.

And my son who loathes women...

It's the Elevation, milord.

You do believe in God.

If knees are all there is to it...

Look at the priest.

He thinks he saw the Devil enter his room and fall upon him.

He says they fought like cats and dogs.

If you believe in the Devil, you believe in God.

All princes believe in God.

I spent many a night in the quarries calling on the Devil.

And I never saw him.

Joufflotte feared hell too.

She often went to the Carmelites for whipping after a night with us.

Once she asked me to go along.

I refused.

I'm too young to do penance.

She wasn't old either.

Only 24.

Perhaps she knew she was going to die.

And you never do penance?

Our penance is... the clap, a sheared head, and death in the poorhouse.

Have you been shorn?

Yes, milord... long ago.

I got 32 flies and a rat this morning.

Two young workers were caught having it off in the street.

You told the King?

No... not exactly.

No friends in court so they were burned alive.

When you think what goes on here...

Since they confessed they were allowed sulphur shirts... it hurts less.

Pass me the broom.

And the leftover kindling goes to the executioner.

Every little bit counts.

What'd the King say?

He was intrigued.

He said, "Why can't I see them burn?"

"When you're King," I said.

"But I am King."

When you grow up then.

Come here.

Look. A map of France.

But he's too young. He's almost ten, he's a real Bourbon.

Dr. Chirac.

Come here.

It's a map of France.

His Majesty's made a map of France.

No, sire, it's nothing... a sign of good health.

I should be as sick...

A child is present, sir.

Did I do something wrong? Is it forbidden?

To talk about, yes.

How did Louie sleep?

You look a bit pale.

I think I'm sick.

Chirac, you haven't bled him again?

It's forbidden to talk about it.

Why forbidden?

It's neither an illness nor a sin.

It's nature's gift, Louie, sent to you in the night.

There are no sins in nature. Man invented sin.

They shouldn't frighten you with that.

Other things are far more shameful.

Look, sire, I have eleven fingers.

Look, sire. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six...

One, two, three, four, five...

Six and five, eleven...

So I have eleven fingers

Time for arithmetic.

I'll share your chocolate if I may.

But with lots of milk, chocolate constipates me.

You look tired. Did you sleep well?

Not badly, how about you?

Admirably! I dreamt you made me Archbishop of Cambrai.

120,000 pounds a year... you aim high.

But you... an archbishop?

You've mitred innumerable unworthy subjects.

I see you've come prepared.

Troarn, two bastards. Commonplace.

Wait, I've better.

Chalais has fifteen and they assist him at mass.

A touching family reunion.

One bishop so loves the frock that he wears only women's dresses.

And... the prelates who starve their peasants.

You surely wouldn't spoil the barrel.

But you as archbishop... it shocks me.

It should amuse you.

Does it amuse you to be archbishop?

No, saying mass will be a bore.

I'm a born pagan and hardly a Christian.

But my future...

A minister is ephemeral; an archbishop untouchable... and the cardinalate but a step away.

No one can take away the purple.

But as long as I live, you'll be minister. What if you die?

But as long you die a mere apothecary's son.

Won't they laugh if I mitre you?

They may shudder, but they won't laugh.

If you made me duke or prince, yes.

But an archbishop's power is heaven... sent.

You believe in God now?

No, not yet... but when I'm Pope, who knows?

Show your teeth! What for?

Regent's orders! Open wide!

Only one missing.

Fit for Louisiana.

Lucky you! A trip to Louisiana. Regent's treat.

On a nice boat.

But I don't want to go.

Ten more crowns for us!

So look bright!

Beat the Devil! Got on with it!

Here we go, so look bright!

Nine lives!

Sweetmeat! Look bright!

Look bright! Come on, hurry!

Stop or I'll shoot!

Catch those ruffians!

Get the other one! Nine lives... for the King!

God... damn!

I'm coming! Faster!

The pretty wench, the little hussy!

Save it for me!

Faster!

Catch her!

For the King!

Sweetmeat! Search the rooms!

Out you go, whore!

To Louisiana.

See here... we haven't even begun!

I paid in advance!

Come on, both of you... My ham!

What ham? My ham!

My clothes!

That'll do, hurry up!

Young lady!

Take my hat!

Step lively...

Here! Your hat...

You don't know who I am!

I'm the Marquis of Pontcallec, delegate from Brittany.

Paris is Satan's city!

Sir! Your hat and cloak!

Forward march, Marquis!

Don't touch me!

I'm a Marquis!

Louisiana, here we come! Bretons are good sailors.

To hell with Louisiana!

What about the pretty lady?

I didn't even get to know her.

We'll arrange a wedding.

I don't want to wed her.

I want my ham!

Profession?

Baker in Melun...

Put the vagabond in Paris. Off with him!

My wife and children!

Your turn, Marquis!

I'm not a volunteer!

We're short on volunteers.

I'm a gentleman, you'll pay for this.

Got any papers to prove it?

I don't carry them on me.

But perhaps this will do.

He can't get it off.

What if it's stolen?

We'll check it out.

At that price... may I take the girl along?

Go ahead.

Gentlemen, had I more rings, I would deliver you all!

You stay with me now?

I've other fish to fry.

You know where to find me if...

Hey! The cloak!

GERVAIS LAQUAIS HUNG FOR PILFERING Your cloak.

Well, take it!


There's a man in the park asking after the Regent.

What's he like? A Breton.

How do you know? He peed in the hall.

Don't we all, my poor friend.

His name is de Briquebec...

No... de Pontcallec.

Ah! Pontcallec...

I'm pleased with you.

Then could you get me into the police?

You already are. What's wrong?

The pails...

Oh, the slop pails.

I know you, Monsieur de Pontcallec.

I don't know you.

Abbé Dubois.

The Breton nobles have sent me to see the Regent.

The Breton nobles?

You, a chicken thief, a third... class poultry snatcher, dare speak of Breton nobles?

I've had a trying night so... take me to the Regent!

I'm taking you to prison, Pontcallec, not for your half... hatched plot, but for smuggling contraband tobacco between Jersey and Brittany.

An offense that merits the galleys, but as you were once officer in the Royal Army, I shall merely deport you to Louisiana.

Oh, no!

Not Louisiana again!

I'll put up with a knavish abbé's insults... but I won't go to America for no reason!

You can teach Breton to the savages!

Frankly, I find your idea a bit strange.

That the King of England, a Protestant, should ask the Regent to name you Archbishop of Cambrai.

Coming from him, it will carry more weight.

Tell me, Abbé, why is an intelligent man like you so keen on the mitre?

You just called me Abbé, that's why.

Good enough.

But it's a ticklish request, especially at the moment.

The recent Breton uprisings...

Why has there been no intervention?

The rebels could well turn over their ports to the Spanish fleet.

Ah, we just arrested Pontcallec, the ringleader.

Arrests are insufficient.

One emerges from the Regent's prisons with ease!

Wait, that's an air I always enjoy hearing when it's sung by Souris Cadette.

Souris Cadette!

The best thing about our job is that we can do it anywhere.

Unfortunately, I'm no music... lover.

But you want to sing mass...

And you shall, Abbé.

As they say in France, "Life is a song..." and that conspiracy had best sing its swan song!

In short, you want heads to fall.

The door for God's sake!

Is the Regent among you?

Shut the door, no!

Is he coming later?

Is he expected?

Go out, Dubois, or come in!

I'm going.

I think I heard him.

Perhaps.

You run a brothel and don't know who the hell's there?

My Lord...

There's no my Lord...

I'm here on pressing business.

The only pressing thing should be you on the door!

It's a very serious affair.

Nothing's serious after 7:00, except the supper menu.

Keep your cares to yourself.

And shut the door!

I'm going to the magic lantern.

Some advice... shut the door.

What's wrong?

My archbishopric is slipping away.

I had the vacancy, Cambrai, a consecrator.

I'm unmarried, a must when you go for this job.

The English king will back me if I nab this rebel and I had him.

Where is he now?

Like an idiot, I sent him to Louisiana.

Now I need him badly.

Maybe he hasn't left yet.

His Majesty hopes to save you brave colonists going to Louisiana from that shameful promiscuity that reduces Christians to beasts.

He is pleased you have agreed to wed before departure.

Due to your great number, you will file quickly by in pairs to say "I do," stepping aside for the next couple.

This ceremony may be brief but it binds you for eternity.

First couple, please.

Next!

Step lively!

Move along!

Step lively.


No, thanks, not for me.

Oh, sorry.

What are they?

Just brass.

But the King is also offering a shirt to the women and shoes to the men.

Good grief! And I'm still a bachelor!

Has anyone seen a man named Pontcallec in this wretched herd?

The Marquis!

It wasn't easy, but he left a married man.

Left?

Yes, last night.

Goddamn son of a bitch!


Ah! Pontcallec.

Who could forget that firebrand!

He said he'd set Louisiana ablaze... and he will!

If he gets there.

Oh, he'll get there.

He must be aboard the "Hen Wren" now.

He left 3 days ago.

Captain!

Wait, milord.

It's Pontcallec's escort!

Well, what happened?

Go ahead, tell him!

He says they tricked us, got away.

Pontcallec too?

He says they all went to Brittany.

To Brittany...

God be praised! That's just where I need him!

A pound bonus for letting your prisoner escape!

He'll wish he were in Louisiana.


Ah, poor Yvonne.

I had hoped to bring you 18 people.

But the trip was long, we're all that's left.

Good, I've no food.

Too bad! He's a fine cook.

He's a hunchback.

I can tell.

Who is she?

My wife.

You're married?

Ah, yes! One of a number of mishaps.

She's lovely.

Yes, but she never speaks.

We have great news!

Go ahead, Amaury!

I saw Cardinal d'Alberoni.

The Spanish king has ordered...

Three shiploads of troops to set sail for Brittany!

I have suffered in vain!

It's war!

Long live the Republic of Brittany!

We oust the Regent.

We install the Duke of Maine.

We denounce the Triple Alliance... another of that wretched Dubois' abominations.

Put the pretender's fleet off the English coast, set Europe afire, make Sardinia a Papal State, and crown Philip V King of half the world!

There.

Now that's a plan with scope!

And the Bretons?

The Bretons go Republic!

What language is that?

I haven't the least idea.

Those are her first words.

It's a good day, Cousin.

Mississippi shares are up.

They're in great request on the market.

Mr. Law is decidedly a great man.

Your enthusiasm has already cost me 15 million this month.

Isn't that what I gave you to support Mr. Law?

It had slipped my mind.

You cost dearly, cousin.

How many others in court supported you when you tore up the late King's will and seized power?

Remember!

I remember each month.

Next month it's 20 million.

Let's be direct.

A commoner like Law, Scotch and Protestant, would inspire no confidence without blue... blooded support.

But he has my support.

He's in your government. My motives are purely unselfish.

Your unselfishness will leave me bankrupt.

I could lighten... the burden, were I the King's tutor...

So that's it!

Instead of that no... good Villeroy.

Even his morals are dubious which is troubling in an educator.

I admire your righteousness, Cousin.

He's a half... wit. A German bishop sold him funeral coupons for Mississippi shares.

I'm not surprised.

They say he can't read.

So what?

Hello, Louis.

Hello, Philip.

A gift from the Canadian Jesuits.

He's an Iroquois, but very nice.

He's been properly educated, look!

Our Father who art in heaven...

He used to be a cannibal.

It's a miracle.

There's no such thing as cannibal Indians.

But certain Jesuits were eaten alive!

Yum yum!

We have many martyrs.

Political ones, Father.

We are wholly apolitical.

Selling arms to one tribe to kill another is political.

Even to destroy the enemies of religion?

I know you applaud the Spanish Inquisition's butchers and regret my halting the Protestant massacre.

I'm a good Christian so I'm a fanatic.

A soldier of God, you might say.

De Villeroy... Excuse us, Louis.

You are an imbecile, a pitiful general and a third... rate Christian.

That's between us.

You, however, proclaim that I poisoned three members of the royal family, usurped the Regency, and plan to do in my nephew, the king.

You even lock up his butter and handkerchiefs so I won't put poison on them.

You must admit I've displayed great patience up to now.

You can't harm me. I'm loved by all.

Surprising with the number of battles you've lost!

Talk all you like.

Only death can rid you of me.

Let me remind you, Marshal, that I am as patient as you are stupid.


Look, Majesty!

This cannon is a newcomer to our artillery.

She has the agility and ardor of youth, and being French, to know her is to love her.

Touch it. Just touch it!

Nice speech!

It would be even nicer put to music.

"Look at this budding young cannon..."

Would Your Majesty care to fire it?

It's harmless.

Do it yourself.

Very well... gunner.

Aim at that coach.

Is somebody inside?

A dummy, sire.

That's no fun.

There's a surplus of condemned prisoners...

Oh, yes, a condemned man!

Another time. Ready, gentlemen?

Heat the powder.

Whenever Your Highness is ready.

Whenever His Majesty says.

Majesty, we'll fire whenever you wish.

I wish it was already over.

Fire!

A bit far.

Just a bit.

It was Rabelais.

I'm taking over.

My sweetest sirloin.

My little mutton chop.

Some music would pass the time.

I don't need music to pass the time, but violins wouldn't be bad.

Sorry to interrupt the tête... à... tête...

Look. That spectacle's more worthy of the cloth.

Fire!

Abbé, I am devoured by a question I hardly dare ask.

Dare? Madam!

Is it true that when you were a teacher, you used to feel up your pupils?

But of course.

It's only natural!

Boys and girls alike?

Indiscriminately.

Marie... Madeleine, your little house in Asnières...

That you so kindly gave me.

And where you rarely go.

It's a bit small.

I'd like to buy it back.

With what's inside?

No, not the paintings, they're a bit lewd.

I'll leave you the religious ones in the attic.

And who is the proud new owner?

I'm in no rush, so why should you be?

Now let's talk money. I don't want any.

I insist. It came from me but since I'm taking it back.

No money. A piece of Louisiana or Mississippi.

Naturally... they're such pretty words.

Prettier than "pound" or "crown" and more profitable.

Aren't you well?

I'm in great pain, milord.

I like to see you suffer.

I know, milord.

I didn't say how much.

Then you'll get even more.

Who does he want to put in my house?

Anyone. He loves like he goes to school.

Thanks. Now that he doesn't touch you anymore...

Don't be offended, Marie... Madeleine.

I meant he likes the necessary in a woman, not the superfluous.

And the necessary is what you wish you still were.

No, sweetie.

Now that he doesn't lay me, I'm the superfluous and I prefer it.

The necessary will be this young girl about whom I know a thing or two.

She comes from a Breton convent.

She must be very young.

A mere child. Then he's on his last legs.

He's sad since his daughter died.

It must be his stomach.

Sadness is always the stomach.

I want an escort sent to Brittany to bring back a girl for me.

Yes, my goddaughter.

I want her out of harm's way in case of an uprising.

I'll see to it.

So you take the Breton plot seriously now.

It was your last memo.

Is Spain fool enough to put three frigates off Brittany?

The sea's too rough to debark.

The Bretons will die in vain.

We'll need two regiments.

Pontcallec has 3,000 men in the forest.

Drink less milk, and your nose won't itch.

I've an acid stomach.

I tolerate wine so badly.

I'm not sure I can say mass.

You're not laughing, milord.

It's not funny.

Three thousand.

I hope they lied to you.


No sense knocking.

They're dead and buried.

All three? All three.

At the same time? Of the same thing.

What? How do Bretons die?

Oh, from hunger.

And I've two more death notices to nail up.

But I need men for my army.

Hurry or you'll find only skeletons.


Looks bad, friends. A dead dragoon.

You'll all be strung up or sent to the galleys. We're innocent!

All's fair in war. We're not at war!

That's your mistake. Join my army and you can kill with impunity.

I'll arm you with mistouflets, the sword that's a gun.

But first, we'll dine on this horse.

Sure the meat's good?

I'll have it boiled. Away!

You sluggards!

Bring on that apple cart!

Where is the bell... ringer?

As soon as the alarm sounds, eh?

That'll be my men. So you ring the bell... to arouse the people.

We'll win before the Spanish arrive.

The birth of the Breton Republic!

We ambush Montesquiou's coach, Talhouet marches on St... Brieuc.

With only a hundred men?

Once we get Montesquiou, we'll be thousands!

The alarm! That's a good sign!

Hurry, the rest of you!

Nothing like apples to fell horses.

Who pays?

The money in Montesquiou's coach.

Come here, Montlouis.

Take a letter to the Regent.

My Lord...

By a stroke of extreme daring...

I have taken General Montesquiou.

Withdraw your troops at once... and recognize The Breton Republic or... the General will be hung!

Isn't that a bit premature?

But if I die in this affair...

I'll have had the joy of signing it.

You're alone, Cousin?

And your 50 peasants?

They chose to stay home. Said it was a noble's war.

We'll do without them.

And Montesquiou took a physic and canceled his trip.

The gods are against me.

Montlouis.

Another letter to the Regent.

My Lord, the Parisians must be cowards... if no one has the courage to assassinate you as you indulge in your orgies and debaucheries.

There! Just send the second.

Stop, bell... ringer!

Another time.

The rest of you, regroup.

And no pillaging!

I got a letter from Pontcallec.

Unfortunately, there's no return address.

To hell with you vermin!

You never give? Too many of them.

Rich as you are?

Avarice, milord, is the only free vice.

Still there? The devil! Oh! Oh!

Finished, Abbé?

They'd take your last farthing, the little bastards!

You make a perfect satyr!

It's the real you.

You promised no more damn charades.

Really, Dubois! You share all that La Fillon takes in.

Were I less weak, you'd be less rich.

Look, a Jesuit in a brothel.

But a short one.

Yes, my Lord.

Do you object?

Not if it's for the glory of God.

Who knows?!

I've seen friars and recollects in a brothel, but never a Jesuit!

We usually come in lay attire.

That could explain it.

Ah, Philip, would you mind if Father Burdo, my confessor, joined us?

Tonight?

Yes, he'll see everything and I won't have to confess.

The beast! Stuffing ready?

Give us this day our daily bread.

Here!

I love the large size!

At your service.

You open oysters, Father?

A Jesuit can do anything.

Have a knife?

Not since Ravaillac.

Long sausage, short mass, as Mother used to say.

How pious, isn't it!

Is Picard coming?

Yes, I just shaved him.

We had a lovely fuck, you know?

But I was there, Madam.

Oh! I forgot!

Extraordinary!

He'll lay anyone!

Candles away, all cats are gray.

No, Joufflotte's seat remains empty.

Superstition!

And fucking on Good Friday, what's that?

Champagne, Marie, quick!

Lackey, open the oysters. That's not my job!

What is your job? "Mirebalai"

What does a "mirebalai" do?

Every battle needs fresh troops.

We're the fresh troops.

And when the lights go out...

What an amazing vocation!

So, Father... those oysters?

It's Calvery, milord.

I've only opened three! Is that what I came for?

How shall we disguise him?

As a satyr. A little satyr!

That's a costume for a bearded ecclesiastic.

With one eye, he'd be a nice Cyclops.

No, no! I see myself as a fishwife!

Me! Queen of the fish market.

I scrub and I scale.

I tickle the newts.

I'm delighted with my confessor.

How ghastly.

Picard's brother is clever in bed too.

What was that, Emily?

I said... Not on Joufflotte's chair!

Pay him no heed, Emily.

Joufflotte's place suits you fine.

You liked her, didn't you?

She was good to me.

I remember, not so long ago, when you first made love to me in the nook.

It was dark. She brought a candle and you said...

We don't need light.

She said, "I want to see you."

Then she knelt down by me and caressed me very gently.

I don't know which of you made me come.

Maybe both of us.

Goddamn son of a bitch!

Pay someone to cuss for you.

How? 500 francs this month for candles... in summer!

Your damn paper money has doubled the cost of living.

But the brothel's more successful every day!

That's for my consecration supper.

When you're archbishop, I want to be abbess of Montmartre.

You're kidding.

If a pimp can be archbishop, a whore can be an abbess.

Senseless as a dove.

Yes, but doves are tender. Not in the Bible.

You know the Bible? From hearsay.

My Lord is ill.

And you left him alone?

He told me to get out.

Stupid ass!

Move!

Out of the way!

Give him room!

Take that helmet off!

What for?

It's indecent.

Get out of here! All of you!

What is it, my Lord?

I feel sick.

I'm cold.

I've lost my shoe!

You've hardly brought him luck!

Thank you.

If we bled him?

He just climbed off his trollop. It'd kill him.

Liver pills then.

His Highness wants Emily.


I was afraid.

But I'm better now.

I thought it was the end.

Don't move, milord. They say you should lie still.

Tell me, Emily... do you really believe in a God, a hell, and a paradise?

Yes, I do.

The life you lead must make you unhappy.

I trust God will have pity on me.

I have hope.

You're fortunate.

Above all, stay cheerful.

It's a measure I proposed for the plague, but it's good for all ills.

Take the poor.

They die in masses because they're sad.

Let's write a book about it to instruct the poor.

Unfortunately, the poor can't read.

Chirac stole another statuette.

He can't help it.

I wonder what they'll say when we're gone.

How will we be remembered?

Henry III had his minions; we have our little suppers.

It's better than nothing.

They'll say I was devoted, with my ulcer and bad bladder going to your damn suppers just to please you.

Think they'll mention you?

If they mention you, they will me.

They'll say we made an odd couple.

That I used to do your homework.

Later you found women for me.

That was more enjoyable.

And you saved my life at the Battle of Nerwinden.

I had my reasons...

I had the future in mind.

Every apothecary's son should save a great man.

Here, drink this. I prepared it. I won't poison you, I still need you.

No, no! Every drop, my Lord!

Tastes horrid!

Courage!

You know, that girl in the Breton convent...

For whom you bought the house?

You knew it, you rogue?

Why, yes!

There's no point having her come if I'm like this.

A girl of 14... it would distract you.

Sixteen.

Of course.

I'm tempted.

I'd be tempted too.

But a future archbishop has to watch his health.

It would certainly be a pleasant way to die!

Ah, death.

It's man's last folly.

Best delay it as long as you can.

A few hours after my father died, I heard the King, his brother, singing opera in the corridors of Versailles.

What a god... awful sound!

Start looking!

Search everywhere!

You girls want water?

Open the door!

Open quickly!

Soldiers are searching the convent!

Hide your bottom, mischief!

Into the tubs with you!

Quiet, girls!

A dangerous outlaw is hiding here.

Every room must be searched.

There's nowhere to hide!

And the tubs?

We'll shut our eyes and look with our hands.

Captain!

Pardon me, Mother.

You obviously don't know who I am.

I think you should.

Before you search me, look at the medal on my dress.

It's familiar?

It's the Regent.

She's his god... daughter.

His Highness pays her board... generously.

Then I assume she would not hide a man bent on killing her godfather.

Assume what you like, sir!

You're his goddaughter?

Yes, sir.

But he's my mortal enemy!

This adventure is unexpected, highly agreeable... and perfectly lovely.

Aren't you ashamed?

How could I be ashamed before... such a pretty vision?

I hope you forget it.

Not a chance.

I don't have many memories like this.

I want to keep it.

Listen...

If I ever meet the Regent, which is still possible...

I may spare his life... in memory of you.

And as a parting wish... may you keep as long as possible...

your pretty little tail.

Now, farewell, and... thank you, Mother.

Tell the Spanish so far I've not provoked the Regent's troops, deliberately avoided contact.

But tell them I can't keep my Bretons down for long.

But, Pontcallec...

I know it's false.

It's the opposite.

But you can't say my men ran out on me, that the peasants refuse, that I'm alone with my three dragoons.

Four dragoons facing an entire army that won't budge... God knows why!

The Regent might hesitate to exterminate four dragoons.

But don't tell the Spanish.

Because if they know we're dying, they won't come.

Tell them to hurry, though, or I'll have to win without them.

Come with me. You can tell them better than I.

They predicted my death would come by sea.

You prefer it by land?

If it must come, I want to be with my three dragoons.

Careful.

No rash acts!

Staying alive is rash enough!


Your weapons!

I have no sword.

You'll have to settle for my mistouflet.

It's a weapon?

Can't you tell?

A letter for the Marquis.

A letter.

It's from my wife.

I can't make out this word.

May I?

It's Wednesday. Wednesday?

Yes, Wednesday.

May I reply? My pleasure. By all means.

Have a pencil?

My dear wife...

I cannot come to dinner... on Wednesday.

I have just... been arrested...

by Captain...

La Griollais.

In two words.

If you say so.

Now I'll show you her room.

Our Mother Superior would rejoice to see this.

Severine's departure worries her somewhat.

Out of a convent into Parisian life and its perils.

She's such a devout child.

So I wanted to shelter her.

She'll be safe here.

Did you see the guard?

Yes, he has a strange face.

It's his silver nose.

He lost his at the Battle of Denain.

I must take leave now, my Lord.

In two weeks, the child should be with you.

Good... bye, my Lord. Good... bye, Mother.

Shame on you, milord! Leading a little nun astray.

If I could only hide in a mouse hole...

Why hide?

You'll be with us, I'm counting on you to tame her.

I'll teach her everything.

Then one day when we're in bed together, you burst in...

You pretend to get angry, whip us both, and then take her before my eyes.

If she wants!

I'll hold her if not.

But I'd be surprised.

You've all the women you want.

Oh, I don't want them all.

Just those who want.

Lucky girl, your Severine...

I'd like to have this house.

But no pious paintings.

They were Mme de Parabere's.

All wanton women get churchy in their old age.

She's not even thirty!

I'll leave the party long before that.

A whore is good to 25.

Then it's the clap for sure.

Look at the court.

I tell Picard when he lays the ladies, "That's what a mirebalai is paid for, but don't go giving me a disease..."

That's why I want us to marry and retire to the country.

That way, I lose you both.

Not entirely.

Picard says I can with you sometimes.

If you still want me.

But you're unfaithful, milord.

On the virgin bed?

Is Picard a better lover?

Yes, but you're more fondling.

Philip the Fondler...

Nice name for a King.

Or Philip the Débauché.

You don't like debauchery, just the noise it makes.

Don't genuflect, my Lord.

It's too late now!

Up to the altar with the right foot.

Then you lean over to kiss it.

And walk towards the missal to read the Introit.

Shit, this bloody Introit is impossible!

Patience, my Lord, the rest is infinitely more difficult.

Ah, yes, the altar... cruets!

I see! Deacon, priest, bishop, and archbishop all in one day!

Oh, please, milord, don't bother us. It's hard enough as is!

Chin up, Abbé.

Why not get baptized... while you're at it?

Try again.

Such a tiny stoup.

It's all I've got.

There. I'm all yours, sir.

So Brisson asked Pontcallec if he had received money from Spain.

Pontcallec's reply...

"Yes, I received 4,000 pounds to raise and pay troops.

Eight pence a man per day and twenty crowns a gentleman."

Brisson..."You were also to turn over ports to Spain for..."

Still there, you?

But I have to show my Lord how to disrobe.

Well, get lost! We have serious business.

Start over, Counselor.

"...turn over ports to Spain for a future landing and..."

Good. I've heard enough, Counselor.

That's all we need.

I want a public execution.

Execution?

They haven't been judged!

I said a public execution.

For the sake of spectacle.

Four heads fall straight away, twenty others after.

I'll send you some Parisian executioners.

Breton executioners are fine... and cheaper.

Eighteen pounds for four heads... with the block thrown in.

Let's not be stingy.

Parisian executioners. We owe the Bretons that much.

Set up the scaffold before the castle... aim six cannons at the town to avoid a riot.

A riot? But no one takes Pontcallec seriously!

Don't minimize the plot, Counselor.

We all know it was gigantic!

We've quelled a fearsome revolt.

I want twelve cannons, eh?

Curiosity killed the cat! Scram, all of you!

I can't seem to find Louisiana.

I've never been able to.

And I've 50 million shares in that land full of darkies!

That's Africa, milord.

Louisiana's over that way.

In the Americas.

They're still darkies.

His Eminence, the Cardinal.

Have you heard?

Cardinal Rohan is to mitre Abbé Dubois... and that's my right!

Squabbling over who mitres the pimp!

It's the principle of the thing. I'm Cardinal and I have precedence.

As for the pimp, milord, it's high time he were archbishop.

He'll no longer be a threat to the Church.

He'll convert?

Our hopes are humbler.

That he makes the Regent give up his infamous plan, more pernicious than public schools!

Obliging the Church to sell land she's possessed for 120 years!

At a price the peasants can afford!

You'll still get a tidy sum.

And a tax increase that will be devastating!

Buy Mr. Law's shares. They're tax... free.

Worthless paper.

But good for gold when the wind changes.

How can we tell?

It may be changing now, my Lord.

Surely you know that some of your friends have withdrawn gold from the bank.

Oh, very few...

Just a warning...

Not a plot like in Britanny, but a legal way of showing our disapproval of a policy that's undermining our power.

After all, we are pillars of the Bank, hence of the State, and if the pillars give way...

Careful, gentlemen. Hurry and please be careful!

Come on!

More quickly!


Three carloads of gold!

That's a lot for just a warning.

I never do things halfway.

You changed at least 20 million!

No, 25... Count it and send it to Switzerland.

Switzerland!

But everyone will do the same, milord!

So I took it all.

Still alone, Mr. Brunet?

Where are the others?

They left.

Decidedly, I shall never know my judges.

Kneel.

I only kneel before God.

He's here.

If you say so.

You are convicted of high treason and felony.

You are condemned to have your head severed...

I protest!

This trial is an infamy!

Gag him. With this!

They say "confess and your life is saved".

Then they assassinate you!

...your goods and chattels forfeited for the crown.

All signs of seigniory as your homes and manors... shall be pulled down and obliterated... all moats filled in... all full... grown trees felled to 9 feet.

Take him away.

I've three others to see.

I must see the Regent.

I have orders.

I'm Abbé Dubois.

Even the Pope...

What makes you say that?

Fellows like you tend to die young.

Take care of this, guard.

What is it, Dubois?

Serious business.

No cause to sing off... key.

We need your signature.

Return when I start work at 6.

Impossible.

Someone is pressuring you to delay the execution.

That's correct.

If the Bretons aren't beheaded by Holy Tuesday, we have to wait till Pentecost.

That means 40 days.

40 days is better than none.

It's a stupid custom.

Stupid? Why?

You'll change your mind 40 times.

Have some respect!

Mind your business!

She's minding mine and I approve. She has good judgment... and a heart.

So the odds aren't even... I beg to speak with you alone.

Leave us, Emily.

You might hear ugly things.

Shall I wait?

He has a fire.

You look like a beadle.

Wait downstairs.

No, Dubois!

I won't execute the Bretons.

The trial was a disgrace... no open court, no counsel or hearing for the defense... and all 4 were innocent of murder.

You said they were 3,000 strong...

They were less than 100 and unarmed.

You're right.

Any other time I would advise clemency.

But it's against my policy!

Change your policy.

England dislikes leniency.

You want that mitre!

Yes, it's true... and I do get money from England.

But having an English alliance has made France richer too.

They say money has no religion.

Money is Protestant, so 4 Catholic heads must fall.

But they won't.

Then please accept my resignation.

You've never threatened that before.

And it takes guts. I'm afraid you'll accept!

You'd give up the mitre?

Unwillingly... but I would.

Once you sign, you can recall that idiot Montesquiou and pardon all the other condemned.

Thank you for your generosity.

I'll make it up to you.

I'm counting on it.

Hot damn!

At it again?

Yes... I'm feeling quite good.

Glad to have your mitre!

Oh, yes!

Hot damn!

Not so much as an IOU, eh?

They won't even pay that!

To a worker... but they pay back the nobles!

So I went to the bank. We tried to break in... and they opened... 4 dead.

And value's off every day!

It was in my way...

You should keep your paper.

The notes will go back up...

Besides, bank transactions on Good Friday aren't Christian!

And a little sale between friends?

It depends.

A miniature by Klingstedt... in gold.

I'll give you 50 pounds. It's yours.

Stop by the Hotel Entraigue to get paid.

I'm Count de Horn.

The Regent's cousin!

In person.

The broker lives here?

First floor, second door on the right.

Stop, thief!

Murder!

I'll get the constable!

Stop, thief!

After him!

Stop, thief! Get the murderer!

Let me go... I'm not the murderer!

It was him. He held the knife!

He killed to rob!

I'm a count! You can't arrest me!

He has 100,000 francs in pounds and bills and a miniature.

It's mine. He stole it.

Idiot! You'll get your 50 pounds tonight when I'm set free!

I refuse to pardon Pontcallec, an honest man... and I'm to pardon this profligate Horn?

Never!

You seem almost eager to kill him.

He'll die when the Bretons do so no one can say I judge by two standards.

But the Bretons lose their heads!

Their crime is not vile.

The wheel is too good for Horn.

A nobleman on the wheel!

I consulted my librarian...

There's no trace in any book of a similar slap at nobility.

Cousin "the crime, not the scaffold, is the disgrace."

Corneille said it.

Who cares what Corneille says?

What could that commoner know about privilege?

If you wheel him... you know that the first three generations... can obtain no abbacy, canonship, or sovereign diocese.

It's not only an atrocious slur, but a terrible loss of money.

I've given my orders.

Count de Horn will be wheeled tomorrow at noon.

At noon! To draw a crowd!

Precisely.

You don't mind wheeling a member of your own family?

I think the same of the other relatives.

Do you know what my librarian says?

He says it's a revolutionary measure.

Horn's crime was unspeakable.

His death will be too.

For doing in a speculator!

Too bad it wasn't you who assassinated him.

But, Cousin, I'm of royal blood.

You couldn't do anything to me!

I'd give amnesty to the man who avenged the victim.

Is it your habit to kill family members?

No, it's a desire that seizes me when I look at you.

This execution's a scandal!

They did plot with Spain.

Who did? The Bretons...

Who cares about them?

Are they nobles?

Must be, to be decapitated.

Excuse me, my son, I didn't hear that...

I can't confess! The noise is unbearable!

Regard it as a penance.

You can't hear my sins...

God hears them. So you say!

What's that animal called?

An elephant.

And they said death would come by sea.

Never trust a fortune... teller.

I'd lift my hat, Father, but they took it.

What did they do with our hats?

What use is a hat? In an hour, you won't have a head.

The Breton Republic was short... lived.

It was a republic of nobles.

You wanted a peasant republic?

I don't know what I wanted!

They're done.

Must be a slap... dash job.

A strange spectacle indeed.

To Philip, Regent of France.

Dear Sir...

Another letter!

Oh, Pontcallec!

I still have 15 minutes!

Go ahead.

Dear Sir...

I address you as Sir... for one doesn't say my Lord... to one's assassin.


The whole convent prayed for his reprieve.

We're all Bretons, my Lord.

Severine too.

She was sure you'd answer her letters.

Until the morning of the execution, she still had hope.

I never received her letters.

I don't doubt it, my Lord.

Then it was God's will.

And Dubois, Reverend Mother.

Severine knew Pontcallec?

Barely.

I think she saw him once.

But he's our hero... especially now.

I'll make a gift to the convent.

Perhaps a mass for his salvation?

If you like.

But I think Count de Horn needs it more.

I knew I'd be archbishop before I die!

Your health is good, Abbé. I may live a year.

Are bishops good in bed?

It depends.

You're early, milord.

Not anymore.

Open it.

Whose hair is this?

A girl who asked my permission to be a nun.

Ask you?

That's a queer idea!

Open the letter.

Recognize the handwriting?

Why should I?

You've seen it twice before.

You stole the letters Severine wrote begging Pontcallec's pardon.

I was afraid of them.

They might have convinced you.

Give them to me.

I burned them.

They were beautiful but naive.

She'd have been unhappy here. She's made for the convent.

Make her an abbess.

We sorely need her prayers.

Perhaps she's a saint and you're accomplishing God's plan?

I'm tired of accomplishing God's plan.

You're the archbishop.

You do it for me.

And you, milord?

I'll make my gardens grow elsewhere.

Your stairs are steep.

You drink too much, milord.

Especially lately.

Some harm will come to you. I came to hear good fortune, not bad.

I brought the gentleman.

Ah, the gentleman from the provinces...

Come in.

Come in, Marquis.

Thank you, I'm not thirsty.

It's for the fortune... telling, sir.

Bring back memories, Emily?

She was with me 6 years. She was my best medium.

There's none like her.

Are you still clairvoyant?

Not anymore.

Have you a preference?

This one perhaps.

Give her your hand.

Does she read palms?

No, it's to feel you better.

Ready, Marie... Charlotte?

Do you feel the gentleman?

Oh, yes.

He's had a great sorrow.

See anything?

Wait, something is forming!

I don't know what it is.

It's round, but not a necklace. It's a crown.

A splendid golden crown placed on the gentleman's head.

It's a king's crown.

I've buried four who should have been King.

Shall I bury a fifth for his crown?

Call myself the Mourner Prince?

If it please you, milord.

I shouldn't have let you come.

You're so touchy at the moment.

You know why.

Yes, milord.

So I don't want to be King.

And I won't be, thank God.

The King is a healthy little boy and I'm an old cadaver.


We want to see the Regent. Who are you?

Misery, desperation, and crime.

Nowhere are misery, desperation, and crime more welcome than here.

You, my most loyal subjects, as Louis XIV, my uncle, left you to me, I shall leave you, more numerous still, to Louis XV and his successor.

For misery, desperation, and crime are fecund.

Enter. And let joy reign supreme!

Magnificent!

I get the prize, no?

I'm the most miserable.

I am the law system, in other words, bankruptcy, and theft.

And I'm the Great Lady of the Kingdom in search of a husband.

Oh, the mask!

Whom shall I marry?

The bank, of course!

What a fine couple!

Poverty and the bank!

What a glorious match!

Let us celebrate!


What's the trouble, Emily?

You look sad.

You've no cause.

I even gave you the house meant for Severine.

What I see saddens me.

But it's a masquerade.

That mocks the poor.

Have another drink.

Invite the real poor!

They'd rob me!

The musicians look unhappy.

They have good reason.

They're blind.

They supposedly play better.

Like nightingales sing when you put out their eyes.

No one put their eyes out.

They're blind from birth.

They don't know they're here.

And they'll play all night long.

Airs I chose myself for the occasion.

I came, my Lord.

I invited you because this wouldn't be a disaster ball without you.

And you do look terrible.

You make a strange soldier.

I'm in awful pain... my cursed bladder.

You lack courage.

He's already forgotten I saved his life at Nerwinden.

I'm courageous, but not against pain.

The Regent's sad and bitter. You must be losing your touch.

Poitou!

Another round please!

A suckling pig, Dubois!

I want the tail and ears.

There you are, Marie... Madeleine.

Time to disappear, ladies! Emily...

Make a sacrifice. Great sacrifices are unseen as Corneille says.

It's not a sacrifice.

It's a habit.

I, of course, am in no state to play.

Then why did you come?

Looking on will be a pleasure.

Oh! Ladies, I'm not playing.

They'll recognize your powder flask.

I'm not so sure.

Oh! Emily!

You get a forfeit.

You'd be a fine musician, milord.

I could be so many things were I not Regent, which is less than nothing.

Ah! You lose milord!

That makes two forfeits.

It's vomiting all over.

Throw it out.

Milord, may I have one more fuck with Picard?

Ask Emily's permission then.

Picard and I are obedient to milord.

Just a quickie before mass.

Whatever you do, you'll die a Christian!

The dwarf... is 67 years old.

Picard bought his knighthood from a man who went bankrupt on Mississippi shares.

We sold in time.

God, it stinks in here!

Doesn't it?

No... not especially.

The stench is awful!

Now it smells worse.

Let's get out of here.

It stinks even more here.

No, milord.

You don't smell that odor of rot?

God, it's my hand!

Smell it! No...

It stinks...

I'll wash it.

And I'm only rotten on one side!

It stinks! It's just dirty.

There.

It's gone now.

No, it's worse.

I must be ill, Emily.

I'm ill.

Try the doctor, milord.

No.

Cut off my hand!

That's a bizarre joke.

And this stench...

It's a joke?

I order you to cut off my hand.

Here, cut.

With this knife?

You prefer an axe?

Only a surgeon has instruments for that.

The saw?

Yes, the saw.

Like at Nerwinden, when they amputated the wounded.

You remember!

I don't like the sound.

Neither do I.

But if we must...

The Royal Palace?

Dr. Chirac's and hurry!

His Highness is ill? Yes, hurry!

I'll follow in my coach.

Never! You'd run off. Get in! Emily...

I'll go with you.


Faster!

When we get to the surgeon's, I want you to amputate.

Chirac's more skilled.

I want to see your face as you saw.

And I know you'll saw well.

You like blood, Dubois.

You'll enjoy it.

You spare me nothing.

Did you spare me... archbishop?


Hurry, he's hurt!

What happened?

We ran over a child.


Back up!

You know him?

He's my brother.

Money, Dubois! Give me some money!

I've none. All of it!

Tell your parents the Regent awaits them to come to the palace.

Understand?

Emily, stay with her.

You accompany them; they might not find it or dare go in.

Let's go.


You frightened me, milord.

But you should see your doctor anyway.

Definitely.

I refuse to die before I bury you.

I'm in no rush.

You've got death in the bladder.

Yes, I live with death.

I feel it in my belly.

I hope you suffer horribly.

Oh, no, I've domesticated it.

Ride with the coachman like the help.

And catch a cold.

Some hate for four Breton heads!

You only noticed them because they were nobles.

Let's go.


Bring straw and hay!

Well, come on!

The firebrands!


No, don't close them.

I want him to see.

And you too, beauty!

And she lifted the boy's head and said

"Look, little brother, look. See how it burns!"

And she added, "We shall burn others, brother, many others."