All language subtitles for The.Princess.of.Montpensier Eng

The peace between
Catholics and Huguenots

had lasted nearly a year
when in autumn 1567

the war resumed as suddenly
as an ill smothered brushfire.

In the name of Christ, fire!

Kill, Nicolas!

PRINCESS OF MONTPENSIER

We part ways here, Nicolas.

We do?

I'm done fighting.

I'm going home, to Maucombe.

You're deserting?

But you'll be...

No more barbarity for me.

Farewell.

Hear that?

Bells sounding a truce,

perhaps even peace.

The soldiers have been here 2 days.

Peace, perhaps.

But not for you, sir.

You're banished from both sides.

By the King for choosing the Reform.
By the Reform for deserting.

You may go, Nicolas.

I can't pay you.

May God keep you.

Keep your horse. The mule, too.

And you, sir?

You'll be hanged.

We know that.

You first, brother.

He's cursed.

He crossed himself backwards
three times.

So we're hanging him.

Aren't you...

Monsieur de Chabannes?

Quercy!

Philippe...

I feared you dead.

Lucky for you I'm not.

I've missed you so, master.

Meet Count de Chabannes.

For 5 years I was his pupil.
He taught me all I know.

But he seems to have forgotten
his own lessons.

Never let fatigue lower your guard.

Sleep sheltered, off the trail.

What miracle led to this meeting?

No miracle, sheer necessity.

I was headed to my last hope:

Your father, the Duke.

I'm ruined.

I found you, I'll keep you.

Not only ruined, but banished.

I deserted.

You must have had good reason.

You'll explain as we ride.

My father wants to marry me off.

I'll know to whom
when we reach Mézières.

Join my escort.

What about them, my lord?

Don't waste the rope.

Lighter than last year,
but lingering on the tongue.

Taste it.

In fact, I'm not here
for your wine, Marquis.

My son returned from
the last campaign alive and well.

He's revoked his promise
to Mademoiselle de Longuemain,

whose frivolity is plain to all.

Hence he is free.

And?

Your daughter Marie
is a marvel of honesty

and grace.

My daughter?

Long promised to Mayenne, you know.

A spoken promise. That I know, too.

Taking back one's my word
to Guise means disaster.

What disaster?

I bring you blood as good
as the Guises'.

Those foreigners!

30 years ago still allies
of Rome and the Hapsburgs.

- True. But Duke, my word...
- What word? Between us, fine!

Bourbons, Valois, Broglie...
Promises I can respect.

But the Guises

always going for the highest bidder.
So what is their word worth?

Yes, but...

Do you realise at least
that the Cardinal is cheating you?

Think about it.

Mayenne...

Why does he offer you Mayenne?

Why not his brother Henri,
who enjoys your daughter's favour?

To fix him up, my dear man.

He's fobbing him off on you.

You leave them together too much.

Henri asked me to.

And you obey?

He's our elder. You obey him, too.

I'm a girl.

Be a man!
Resist him, or he'll marry Marie.

Then everyone would be happy.

Look. It's my brother she loves.

It's madness.

Not madness.
We gave ourselves to one another.

Not gave, promised.

- You promised my brother nothing?
- Him? No.

I promised nothing.

I gave him something.

A slap.

You care nothing for him?

Only because he cares for you,
Henri.

You two will never be far apart.

Nor you from me.

Careful!

The old women are watching.

Mayenne,

you must meet
your brother's challenge.

It's already lost.

I'm beaten beforehand.
You know Henri's strength.

I only stand a chance at dice.

Come along, coward.

Time for your lesson.

And you know the Guises
have lost influence,

but they're still ogres, gluttons,

greedy for money, power and honours.

Were Marie not the realm's
richest heiress,

they'd hunt elsewhere.

You're mistaken, I believe.

My daughter seems inclined toward...

Nothing a few stern words won't fix!

If we agree, I'll surrender the land
we've quarelled over for 10 years.

A full 20-league parcel
for the hunt!

And I'll speak to the Queen Mother,

whose ear I've had since
she's cooled to the Guises.

I'll speak to my wife and daughter.

No, to me.

You'll speak with me!

Now! Say yes.

And we summon the notaries.

They won't only be here
for the wine.

My son.

I took the liberty
of asking him to join us.

- Here?
- Here.

His future's at stake.
I show what I sell.

- I've known Philippe...
- War changed him.

Cardinal!

I can read the news on your faces.

And it is not good.

I came for my annual wine order...

And the talk turned from the wine
to the heiress. Not unusual.

Cardinal...

So you take back your word?

In my daughter's interest...

So I was right!

You humiliate not only me
but the entire Guise family.

Expect no favours from them.

Allow me to speak
to my nephews first.

I shall try to control Henri.

Your annual order...

This discovery
of your daughter's interest...

What a coincidence!

And your son's sudden appearance...

Philippe knows nothing.
You have our word.

Oh, gentlemen!

Your word!

- Philippe!
- Cousin!

What a pleasant surprise!

Not since the fray at Saint-Denis.

You charged with Montmorency...

And you with the Yellow Crosses.

Catherine.

Marie.

How you've changed in 2 years!

The Court will envy you, Mayenne.

Come, relieve me of the boredom
of this oaf.

My brother daydreams
while I rust from disuse.

Out of the blue?

Indeed.

- What's the score?
- You know very well.

You lead by three hits
since Longjumeau.

- Only three?
- Yes, only three.

I won back two at the Louvre.

Such impatience, young men.

Greet us first, scrape later.

Your father would speak to you
privately.

And your uncle awaits you
in the gallery.

Very well.

We shall resume later.

You've lost weight, Chabannes.

I'll shortly give you details
of a decision.

The Guise honour
won't be tarnished!

Take Chabannes under your protection
until the King's ire passes.

And fear that of the Guises.

You have offended me, cousin.

I never forget an offense.

Henri!

I don't understand. Why him?

And his fury?
There's no offense to him.

If anyone, Mayenne...

Precisely.

It's all settled, I told you.

I made an agreement with his father.

You'll marry Montpensier!

No, Father!

You will yield! You must!
I order you!

I will host the Guises tonight.

You will consent before they go,

or everything will wobble.

This marriage suits me.

You will yield, or enter a convent.

I'm prepared to.

I've tamed worse than you!

The Guises leave tomorrow
and you'll forget all this. Yield!

You must! I'm your father!

It's your duty to obey!

My friend.

Leave us, Jeanne.

Control yourself, proud child.

And submit.

I know you are intelligent.

Youth makes you defiant.

Your feelings for Guise
are too conspicuous. Control them.

And let reason guide your future.

Think what marriage to that
dreamer Mayenne would lead to,

bringing you
near the one who desires you.

And to whom you're drawn.

Sooner or later,

you would both yield to temptation
and no good would ensue.

Marry Montpensier.

He's an ordinary brute

with no reputation yet,

either good or bad.

Daughter,

love is the most awkward of things.

I thank heaven every day

your father and I
have been spared such trouble.

Submit.

Don't fight the fate I must endure.

I beg of you.

What do you fear from me?

It's myself I fear.

He sleeps so soundly.

My brother doesn't dream of you.

It's my sleep you haunt.

Give me something of yourself.

Providence spares us great folly
by parting us.

My father wants a wedding
before Michaelmas.

I said yes.

They say the Romans...

or the Greeks, I don't know...

Some people from Italy...

They fed lampreys
like my cook does eels.

He feeds men to your eels?

No, he finely chops
intestines and livers

from poultry and game,

adds a little pork,

making a sort of sausage meat

he throws to the eels which,

in fresh water running over a bed
of fine gravel, fatten in a month.

The one I offer you today
weighed 9 Ibs.

A serpent...

How did you prepare it?

Skinned,

browned, spread with anchovy butter,

rolled in fine bread crumbs,

under the grill another ten seconds,

and served with olive oil beaten

with lemon, mustard and hot pepper.

You mother taught you nothing?

Close your eyes.

Well?

We heard nothing.

Just a mousy squeak.

But there's blood.

I believe you've won, my friend.

Thankyou.

I'm off. I have rents to collect
in Tourneuil.

Get comfortable.
It's a long journey.

At least 10 days.

We leave in an hour.

Mr. De Chabannes seems
very attached to you.

As much as I to him.

It's only natural.

For 5 years, he taught me
all that is good in me,

in my heart, manners and mind.

His qualities are matchless.

Yet did he not suddenly leave
Mr. De Condé's service?

Is it a quality to betray
one's camp like that?

I'll let him explain,

if he deems it necessary.

My father,

before dying, recommended me
to two dear friends:

The Prince of Condé,
with the Reform,

and the Duke of Montpensier,

a Catholic nobleman.

Condé being the first
to honour my request,

I entered his service
and campaigned with him.

But every day I dreaded

meeting the Prince, your husband,

on a battlefield.

However, I knew

I could only salute him

and not fight.

One event enlightened me

as brutally as Paul of Tarsus
on the road to Damascus.

But unlike Paul,

it didn't blind me.

It opened my eyes and mind.

I had just,

in Christ's name,
killed a pregnant woman.

How can people

of the same blood and faith

kill each other
in the name of the same God?

So I threw down my weapons.

I resolved then to give up war,
Madame,

and not only the Huguenot camp.

For a time, Mont-sur-Brac
will be your kingdom.

Modest, but of our castles,

the farthest from the war.

In your company it will be pleasant.

As none other could make it?

What could be better company
than my husband's?

I warned you, it's quite rustic.

Do you think I was raised
in gentleness and satin?

The Ladies of Longwy schooled me.

They weren't tender.

So you've no fear of convents...

Forgive me.

My parents, the Duke and Duchess,

wish to keep their apartments here
for rare visits.

The choice is yours:

This side has more sun,
the other a better view.

I love the sun.

Will you love me, too, Madame?

When you order me to.

We considered
awaiting your recovery,

but Mézières might change his mind.

So I moved up the wedding.

And the dowry?

Mézières only quibbled
over the horses.

- We have plenty.
- No, the war's taken a quarter.

Mézières yielded on everything:

The furniture, linens, copperware,
Venetian glass...

He even added 8 male peacocks
and 2 hens,

but I refused.

Why? I love peacocks!

You forget our watchdogs.

They'd have devoured them.

Lock up the dogs.

Peacocks, like geese,
warn of intruders.

Dogs warn...

- and bite!
- They don't lay eggs.

It's done, my dear.
I exchanged them.

For falcons.

Always the hunt!

They bled me twice,
this morning and just now.

I'm exhausted.

Your illness runs out
with the blood.

I find you better.

We return to Paris tomorrow.

You'll sleep on the way.

The young people
will gladly be rid of us.

The Guises were vile.

The Guises are always vile.

She keeps complaining.

Gently!

Don't touch me.

It hurts!

Help me!

- Be brave, dear.
- I'm going to die!

The King asks for us.

I must leave you.

Leave us.

On the battlefield, spare yourself.

Think of those two who value
your life more than their own.

I won't forget.

Madame, let me bid you farewell.

Come back quickly.

The campaign will be brief.

Just long enough
to pluck some glory.

Farewell.

I'd follow you. But you know

the disgrace that bars me.

I'll plead your case.

You serve me better serving my wife.

Use this time to instruct her.

She knows neither art nor poetry.

I want her equal to her rank
at Court.

Farewell.

You heard, sir,

what arduous task awaits you.

I'm not afraid, Madame.

You have a fine mind for learning.

This defeat announced
to the Romans...

Not, to the Romans. To Rome.
It's a singular accusative.

Start again.

I know Latin.

Little.

And poorly.

Enough.

And well enough.

I want to write.

If I can write Latin,
I'll read better.

Writing gives you time to learn

and understand.

Writing takes time.

I have more than enough.

Very well... tomorrow.

Now.

Please.

I think it's Delphinus.

The dolphin constellation.

The Arabs call it the Camel.

And the Hebrews the Whale.

Do you believe
they influence our fate?

I have no certainty either way.

- But when you're at Court...
- Me?

You really believe it?

Don't forget Queen Catherine,

her son the King
and the Court believe

in the influence of the stars.

At least don't fight it.

Let them talk. Listen.

At Court, everyone imitates.

So imitate.

But what do you think?

Me?

I believe,

like many great minds who sought
to understand the heavenly,

and thus divine mechanics,
that the stars

give us a wonderful example
by which to govern society.

Bound to immutable paths

that obey the universal hierarchy

of the weak
kept in the orbit of the powerful,

they teach us...

Resignation?

Not resignation.

Simple obedience to the laws
of equilibrium and modesty

without which terrible collisions
would occur,

causing terrible calamities.

Terrible calamities...

Weren't we to work on triangles?

Didn't we say later?

I promised the women in the kitchen
a remedy for chilblains.

I know where the herb grows.
I was going...

To go out?

I'll come along.

Apium graveolens

grows in muddy soil.

You also know cures?

You're a very useful person,
Mr. De Chabannes.

A few remedies.

At home in Quercy,
women hand down the recipes.

That way.

A woman taught you?

I didn't say that.

Not a woman?

Yes, but...

I wasn't prying, you know.

But now I am curious.

Aren't we good enough friends?

This woman you hide...

Was she your wife?

I can't cross.

Here it is.

I found it.

It's lovage.

L- o-v-a-g-e.

Also called wild celery.
I boil it...

I wouldn't be ashamed to speak of
a person I once felt for.

- What makes you...
- I went through the ordeal.

Now I'm cured.

Never have I...

I am cured.

You mustn't have suffered much.

I suffered enough.

Before the Prince?

The Prince was the cure.

We were still almost children.

He was the handsomest boy around me.

He frightened me at first,

because he always fought for honour,

and perhaps for amusement.

These fights scarred his face.

He looked like Henri de Guise...

But it wasn't him.

It wasn't him.

I learned in the convent
never to confide in anyone.

I'm moved by your trust.

Where do we stand
in this endless war?

Battles, truce,

hostilities resumed...

Do you think it will last long?

I hope not.

Between ending and enduring,

I no longer know what I hope.

Your horse!

We took Condé's banner.
The rest fled.

Good news, cousin.

Have you any other?

Of home?

News of my cousin, your wife,

Marie?

Is the thought of sin

already a sin?

Not without desire, no.

Or it's highly venial.

And the thought with desire?

I'm not a confessor.

I'll ask him.

My confessor.

I'll ask him.

You don't only charm
my kitchen staff.

The chilblains, Madame.

Come, come.

There's no harm in a smile
here and there.

Are you still cross with me?

Cross? Why?

In fact, I'm pleased
by your sudden show of interest.

So I've ruffled you.

Please forgive me, Count.

I meant no harm.

They're only words.

Not only your words,

but your silence, too,
showed legitimate indifference.

The space required
between pupil and master.

What is your reproach, then?

No reproach.

I only reproach myself.

All this daily happiness

has blinded me.

I should have fled.

I thought age had released me
from the grip of passion.

- Are you saying...
- Yes, Madame. I love you.

You quickly forget
your own teachings.

Isn't the world's equilibrium
assured by small stars

which keep their place
in the celestial hierarchy?

Your words are forgotten.

They must have been due

to the fatigue of reading and study.

We won't discuss it again.

Do you hear the lark?

Not a lark.

An oriole.

You say oriole to scold me
for not learning the poem.

I found it meaningless.

- You don't like poetry?
- I do,

but not the singsong of the lines:

"Fluttering,
chanting, regretting..."

Bing, bing, bing!

What you call "singsong"

is rhyme, Madame.

The rhyming lines are verse.

I don't like verse.

Hence poetry.

I do.

Sometimes I do.

When I sense music or feelings.

What you call feeling
is a mere tweet of a flute.

Real feeling
has altogether more gravity,

more depth.

What's more,

in its presence,

you don't recognise it.

A lark!

It's a lark!

Herbal teas,

ointments,

elixirs and salves!

For the ladies,

cloth, ribbons, lace and silks!

But also,

beauty powders, rouge,

ointments...

- Necklaces...
- Cedar!

News! Give us the news!

Yes, news!

News, of course.

But news has a price:

5 sols.

Too much!

Pitch in together.
With one who can read!

Here.

To give you a foretaste,

some free news...

The son of a local bailiff

eviscerated himself

jumping out a lady's window

when her husband caught her,
arms spread...

and legs, too!

The war!

Yes, the war!

Bad times for that Huguenot hogwash

spouted by Admiral Coligny

who was run out of Grézaucourt

by our Duke of Anjou.

One hero of the day

is Duke Henri de Guise,

time and again seen
in the heat of battle.

"...time and again seen
in the heat of battle."

Your erstwhile feelings don't seem
as extinct as you claimed.

They've changed, Count!

I feel joy on hearing the merits
of a man whose exploits justify

the inclination I once had for him.

You must portion it out.

- Me?
- You.

It's your seigniorial duty.

I know nothing about what I must do.

My duties, life...

This war, for instance,
I don't know what it's about.

Religious matters, of course,

deeply felt.

- The trade in indulgences...
- Yes, I know.

The Saints, the Virgin, the Pope...

Everything the heretics reject.

But what is "real presence," really?

What does it really mean?

That the holy wafer
contains the body of Christ.

And the wine in the challis
is His blood.

St. John Chrysostom, Golden Mouth,

expressed it simply:

That which is in the cup is the same

as what flowed from Christ's wounds.

But it's a question of belief,
not understanding.

Yes, but...

It's an article of faith.

But faith?

Ah, faith!

St. Paul defines it perfectly
in Hebrews:

"Faith gives substance to our hopes

"and makes us certain of realities
we cannot see."

The same could be said about love.

For you, sir.

It's the Prince, your husband.

He wants me by his side.

You'll leave tomorrow.

Now. An escort awaits me
at Vieux-Sec.

You must write.

Give news.

With you gone,
what could interest him?

You!

Everything about you.

Your health, your reading...

How you spend your days,
what you eat...

The stars you gaze at...

- He'll gaze at the same ones.
- He doesn't know them.

The stars.

I know them.

I'll show them to him.

Write.

Where?

And how?

Ask the bailiff for messengers.

The Prince will be
with the Duke of Anjou.

They always know where the Duke is.

I acted in haste.

But I have no one
who can read and write.

And the captains don't care for me.

You won't fight.

She'll waste away from boredom
without you.

I should have left you with her.

Yes, I should have.

Anjou's tent.

He commands in the absence
of his brother the King.

Perhaps you should go in alone.

No, come.
Anjou is a man who understands.

Bread is called shleb.

Shleb.

Good.

Butter is maslo.

Maslo.

The word for herring is sledz.

So herring is what stank
when you came in?

In Poland, my lord,

even at the King's table,
they serve sledz, herring.

Sledz.

Prince! Can you pronounce that?
Sledz.

I have little talent for languages.

Place your tongue here.

Sledz.

That's better, isn't it?

Perfect! They pronounce no better
on the banks of the Vistula.

You took your time.

I always miss my friends.

Enough Polish for today.

My brother and mother wish me
to wear the Polish crown.

The King of Poland lags behind
all the other kings of Europe.

How dreadful to ingest daily
three helpings of Polish

in the hope of eating herring
on a kinglet's throne.

And they were still plotting
my marriage to Elizabeth,

English, Protestant, bald

and 20 years my senior.

I believe our birthright
comes at too high a price.

Well, cousin?

The Huguenots request a truce.

Your valour has brought them
to their knees.

You have your share in this victory.

A great share.

Not congratulating our cousin Guise?

I do each time we meet.

We are victors,

you are praised,

and yet you seem defeated.

Yes, I have wept, my lord.

My best captain lies dying.

I can do nothing to help.

I'm going back.
I just came to bring the good news.

He weeps and admits it.

I didn't think him capable
of such emotion.

Why, Prince, you did not come alone.

This is my master and friend.

I spoke to you of him.

Introduce yourself.

François, Count of Chabannes.

Chabannes!

Who suddenly comes over to our side
from our enemy?

How is one to believe
the sincerity of an act

that coincides with your defeat?

Well, as it happens, I believe you.

Come, Prince.
A conqueror invites you to dinner.

Peace is ours as suddenly
as the war resumed.

You'll go home
without drawing your sword.

Come, I've just received
an excellent wine from Ay.

Madame, my absence
has not tarnished your beauty.

Your return restores my radiance.

So the war is over?

It appears so.

Leave us.

- My lord...
- It's not our wedding night.

The labours of war parted us too soon
after our wedding.

We know nothing of one another.

It will take time

not to be the strangers
we are tonight.

I heard you playing.

- Am I disturbing you?
- Never, Philippe.

I was going to read.

I left my wife to rest.

And I'm not sleepy.

Drink.

After the chaos of the camps,
this calm unsettles me.

What do you think of my wife?

Very lovely, very...

I mean as a pupil.

Intelligent, gifted,

eager to learn.

I know nothing about her.

I know the least
about her tastes and moods.

Lovely penmanship!

Even I can read you.

It's not my writing.

"If Life is less
than one day's passing

"In Eternity,
if the year revolved..."

It's poetry.

Her handwriting.

I give her new poems to copy
and learn

to recite them at Court.

- Her?
- Marie.

You call her Marie?

Rarely. And only in her absence.

Even in her absence,
call her Princess.

Did you teach her to write?

- She knew a little.
- Why?

- She asked.
- To reply? She receives letters?

You must tell me.

No letters.

Truly.

I wish she'd write to me.

The Guises are back at Court.

Henri is a great soldier.

He fights well.

We charged side by side.

He was wounded in the face again,

erasing the other scar.

Now he deserves the name
"The Scarred."

Like his father.

As if they were born with the mark.

My lord?

Father requests me in Paris.

The grieving weighs on him.

I know he thinks of remarrying.

He'll present you at Court.

Don't be impatient.

Let me enjoy the peace,
and your company.

I found it! Follow me,
there'll be a ford, or a bridge.

The same as before?

Guise, you're as lost as we are!

Don't listen, cousin.

I'll follow you. So will they.

What a delightful coincidence!

Your detour is forgiven, Henri.

You know that one, Guise.

I believe so.

Who would she be?

Marie de Montpensier.

Philippe's wife?

He spoke of her great beauty.

I want a better look.
La Valette, announce us!

Madame,

the Duke of Anjou wishes to cross

with some of his men.

The King's brother

is welcome on Montpensier land.

The skiff, you dolt!
Ask for the skiff.

We don't know how deep the water is.

Can you help
by bringing the skiff over?

It's your beauty that staggers me,

and, I admit, the unsteadiness
one often feels on water.

If you ride on to the castle,
you shall be my guests.

And the Duke will be glad
of refreshment.

The hunt is a necessity

due to the overabundance of game.

Some say it's a welcome change
from killing men.

They can instead sacrifice deer.

To me it is
an unappealing spectacle.

You are unkind to our cousin

who excels at both carnages.

Never mind,
Montpensier has deprived the Court

of its loveliest ornament.

Reproach him on my behalf.

You can reproach him yourself.

I can hear
that his butchery is over.

I like your home.

My lord, for as long as it pleases,

make it yours as well.

I'm just back from the hunt...

Each battle
produces its conversions.

Our defeats create new Huguenots,
and vice versa,

with the apostates...

Who return to heresy
with Coligny's first victory.

I see nothing amusing
in these reversals.

And you, Monsieur...

What of your experience
with the heretics?

My friend Chabannes...

Let him speak, cousin.

The heretics, as you call them,

show as much grandeur and cruelty
as the Catholics.

I admit I have no complacency
for these battles.

All I see is blood and horror.

I only hear cries of pain.

So I withdrew.

You are a man of feeling.

Our Guise is a man of impulse.

I always have been,

without forsaking my feelings.

I do not reason, I feel,

and obey the impulse of my faith

and my heart,
which has never betrayed me.

What do you think, Madame?

I am too unsure
to venture an opinion,

and what credence
could you give a woman ignorant

of military matters?

Ignorant, really?

It's a subject of learning
that Count de Chabannes spared me.

Fortunate man.

I would gladly convert you
to my passions:

Music,

literature...

These soldiers
know nothing of beauty.

I won't wait for you to dismiss us.

Company, on your feet!

You'll be shown to your quarters.

I had my parents' room made up.

And you?

I shall sleep with my wife.

I would gladly trade places.

That pâté was divine.

The parsnip casserole heavenly.

I found Marie de Montpensier
very beautiful.

To the Prince!

The Prince must enjoy himself.

Put a log on.

Joyeuse...

I'm exhausted.

I told you to leave us!

You were weary of the hunt,

but I trust you easily withstood

the buzz of admiration around you.

I spent two long years in abstinence
of worldly pleasures.

An evening of company...

And the skiff on the water...

like a stage for you to perform on.

You're unfair.

- Only by chance...
- Not only chance!

Chance and Guise!

They all joked about his claim
to lead them to Espalion

when he took them
on a 20-league detour.

He knew what he was doing.

He led them to you.

Did he?

And to the skiff I didn't expect
to board two hours before?

I don't know.

In any event, I found you together.

Together!

He didn't take his eyes off you,

caressing you with his gaze.
Yes! And you smiled!

Must I remind you
your husband was at that table?

I have longed for a smile from you.

Foolish hope!

I wish she'd smiled at me.

The whole castle could hear you.

Let me be.

Cousin,

a word with you.

I am in need of a confident.

Yes?

Come.

He came to my door.

I didn't show my face.

I feared more unfair reproaches
like last night,

this unwarranted jealousy.

Did you share
what I confided in you?

Now you're being unfair.

With me.

With him.

The Prince departed
by order of the Duke of Anjou

- who conducts his own affairs.
- What affairs?

I'm not privy to them.

The kingdom,

war, peace,

the Queen, without whom
he decides nothing of import.

I'm anxious for them to leave.

I was glad to host them.

Now I want them gone.

Quickly.

Were you dreaming, cousin?

Or was I, too,
in a reverie suggesting

our melancholy moods were twins?

She's worthy of our common interest.

The Princess of Montpensier.

You know her.

And you both showed
much apparent indifference.

Hence dissimulation.

That which is concealed
always arouses my curiosity.

We knew each other as children.

We were fairly close.

She, Mayenne, my sister, myself,
other cousins.

But I scarcely remember her now.

I saw your emotion when we found her
like an enchantment, on the skiff.

Enchantment, indeed.

That emotion was surprise.

At meeting again, of course.

And... was she prettier
than you remembered?

As could be expected.

But I insist, the memory
is one of childhood and friendship.

You've learned to lie, cousin.

I sent Montpensier to inform
my mother I'd resume peace talks.

Not a truce, peace!

Peace, with the Huguenots?

So Montpensier is with your mother.

Husbands always get in the way.

Yes, two of us are enough.

If you've distorted your feelings
and hers,

the fight will be face to face,
and merciless!

I won't be caught up short.

Mourning ends in 40 days,
that's nothing.

I know how it is.
I have myself lost...

Spare me your own affairs
when I explain mine to you.

I was saying: 40 days is nothing.

Any news of my son?

He's to bring me...
What does it matter to you?

But he's not bringing
my daughter-in-law,

as if he were hiding her!

Write my son to send for her
within a month

at the latest.

So then, 40 days, by which time,
I trust, we shall have peace.

Peace means life, festivities,
balls once again,

a sort of spring.

For me a rebirth!

I want three costumes
befitting my rank,

not to mention hunting outfits.

No black or brown or grey.
Except perhaps pearl grey.

Pink and mauve.

The vibrancy of scarlet and crimson
can wait.

My late wife adored crimson,
remember?

It suits me so well.

I will spare no expense.

Plenty of embroidery, beads, gems.
I want to look my best.

I'm thinking of taking a new wife.

Solitude is fine,
but at certain hours it's dismal.

And enough sadness,

let us at least look fine!

A letter for you, from your husband.

He requests my presence.

If he requests it...

You know what it means.

A request is an order.

Aren't you pleased?

Paris means the Court, Madame.

The King, Queen Catherine, Anjou...

And Guise.

Do you so mistrust
your heart that?

My heart has grown cold to him.

You know it. I know it.

But my husband?

I reasoned with his jealousy once,
after many words and tears,

but how will it be
living in that Louvre,

with all those intrigues?

My parents told me so,
and so did you.

You are strong enough
to avoid any obstacle to your aims.

If the Court pleases you,
you will please Court.

Which will please your husband.

Only you know
what remains of your past hopes.

Nothing.

Well then, to Paris, Madame!

The Prince has surely
prepared a fine welcome.

I was going to write him.

Shall I announce your arrival?

Within the month?

Within a week, Chabannes!

If such a thing is possible,
we'll be there within a week!

You are radiant, Madame.

Well, Philippe, what about peace?

We are very hopeful.

- Catherine!
- Marie!

I understand your surprise
to see me, cousin.

Special orders. An 80 league-ride.
I just took off my boots.

On whose orders?

My uncles. The Cardinal's.

He delegated me to represent us
to Catherine in this happy occasion

that is to join our houses.

Join our houses?

You don't know?

We're back in the situation
at Mézières:

A marriage between you and us.

What marriage?

My younger sister and your father.

What shall we be for one another?

Sister-in-law? Stepson?
Nephew? Niece?

What else?

Father is to wed Catherine de Guise.
Marie didn't tell me.

Did she mention this union?

Your father must have
made arrangements in secret.

Finally, my son,

I can announce publicly what
I had no time to tell you privately.

He's always off somewhere!

I'm marrying again.
And the lucky bride...

Catherine? Where are you?

No need, Father,
I've had the surprise.

It delights you, I trust.

My dear fellow, how are your carps?

You know very well...

They decide without us.

Like for the horses and the hounds.

You didn't wed the man you wanted,
and mine is more than twice my age.

Catherine, our duty is to obey.

You laugh?

It's because

you'll have to call me Mother!

I see nasty Huguenot faces.

Like three ugly flies
on a tablecloth.

Montpensier is following
my mother's orders: Work for peace.

He'd be wiser to keep Chabannes
out of his wench's skirts.

Beware, Joyeuse!

Slur who you wish
with your perfidies,

but not an unkind word about her.
Never.

I say, this is an epidemic.

These weddings!

Recently my brother the King.

Soon the Admiral, they say.

And my sister Marguerite,

as a sacrifice
to the lord of Navarre,

that garlic-eater!

And now your father-in-law the Duke

to whom the Guises
sold your Catherine.

I say,

this is an epidemic!

I'd have gladly succumbed
had you not already been conquered.

You're mistaken, Marie.

I sincerely envy your husband

and that other one.

- Excuse me?
- My mother,

at my request,
will see you tomorrow.

So soon?

- I would prefer...
- Have no fear.

She's not an ogre. Only an ogress

whom I've fed with praises of you.
She's already fond of you.

Must I wait still?

I just learned of your presence.

I have little time and much to say.

I haven't changed.

I've had no chance
to see you in private.

All eyes are on us,

all ears are listening.

Here I can confess, and I do...

Holding audience, cousin?

I thought it was the Queen.

I've been waiting for an hour.

I've just come out.

Queen Catherine spoke warmly of you
to her sons.

She awaits you.

Is your presence?

Don't worry about Marie.

I'll keep her company
in your absence.

Your insolence, your smiles,
your smirks,

I'll have no more of.

Come, we'll settle this
in the courtyard.

Who allows you to risk

your lives so stupidly?

A rankling grudge.

Forget it!

I, too, for the same reason
harbour a grudge against Guise.

But I am able to muzzle it.

Were I King of France,
I would perhaps disobey myself...

If you cross swords again,
I'll have both your heads taken off.

The Polish business
may soon be settled.

I'll have my brother appoint you
to lead the army in my stead.

And you, I shall spare
a humiliating obedience.

Poitiers.

You'll be in command
to defend the fortress...

I almost said, in a new guise.

Come now.

Come, Madame,

the Queen grants you an audience.

The ambassador of England

I shall see tomorrow after mass.

Approach.

I know much already,

but I wanted to see you up close.

Eye to eye.

Settle that affair without me.
I just want results.

She wonders what I know. And how?

If I know the birth date,
I know the rest.

The stars

are close to God
and send us His messages.

But reading them correctly

is an exacting science

and only now at my age
do I make fewer mistakes.

You are under the pull
of two conflicting forces.

Saturn and Venus!

Rectitude, reason,
the law on one side,

desire, sensuality,

the body on the other.

Which will prevail?

One cannot shun one's destiny.

His syrup! Don't wait for a fit.

Another son, the King, Charles.

He is King. He is lying ill
behind the screen.

He disobeys.

I'm very fond of your husband.

Anjou tells me Guise
is pestering you.

Don't listen to Guise.

He is courting my daughter.
Do you know Margot? A beauty.

Even too much so.

Everyone wants her,
but she wants Guise.

I want someone else for her.

She is a Leo. So is Guise.

Very bad.

Dangerous.

How dare you?
After what just happened?

- It kept me from saying my peace.
- Spare me!

Do you still believe in the weakness
of my 16 years?

Dare you invoke that weakness today,
to a married woman?

The whole Court
says you love another.

- The King's sister did show...
- No, you!

You showed interest
in the King's sister.

The mere vanity of becoming
the King's in-law.

God is my witness.
I did nothing to seduce Margot.

She pursued me.

You would flee a woman lauded
for her wit and beauty?

Enough! It's her, I say.

She tried to tempt me...
with marriage.

Queen Catherine had indigestion
from purple artichokes.

Her wind even drove Coligny away!

An offer of marriage, you say?

It certainly is a fashion!

And you replied?

Neither way.

You decide, Mariette.

Well?

The door was open, and the noise...

I came to inquire.

And I see by your face...

that you've had good news.

Rather good, yes.

What business is it of yours?

- My friendship for you.
- You should have been a priest.

You know, Madame,

that some temptations
are beyond my moral strength.

Speaking of temptation,

Madame Benedicte
complains her honey's been stolen.

I vouched for your integrity.

Priest would suit you.

Confessor.

So I'll confess something to you.

It will commit you to secrecy.

Since I confess it.

Mr. De Guise burns for me again...

- You're not to blame...
- And I'm delighted.

It's your good fortune

I'm the first
to note your satisfaction.

Which condemns you.

Imagine meeting the Prince
in your present state.

It's only a fleeting happiness.

Like the swallow,

it quickly comes and goes.

There remains the shame
of being taken in so easily.

He even used
the nickname of our youth:

Mariette.

Have no fear.

I will yield neither to Guise
nor anyone else.

Madame,

the Prince your husband has known
more passion

than what marriage usually produces.

When passion doesn't blind,
it opens the eyes and the mind.

If he sees you as I have now,
he will understand.

And you will lose both him

and Monsieur de Guise.

What must I do?

Free yourself.

Forget today's encounter.

Forget Monsieur de Guise.

Yes.

I want to.

I sincerely want to.

If you want to, you can.

No.

The King's Ball tomorrow!

I'll be there and so will he.

Take your time.

The Moorish Ballet is later.

And there, who's dancing?

Little girls. Nymphs...

Nymphs? They don't exist.

Everything that has a name exists.

Your beast doesn't seem
to like music.

Always grumbling!

Likes nothing, always grumbling.

Yes! I saw him, believe me!

The King smiled at you,
just before your curtsey.

A broad smile, even.

I know what he was looking at.
I know who.

As soon as he saw you,
he stopped coughing.

Marquis! What a pleasure.

Your husband.

You learned of my mother's passing?

I'm sorry.

Tragic. After such suffering,
death is redemption.

Help me, Catherine.

Detain him.
I must warn your brother.

- What do I say?
- Anything, as if it were you.

So, my dear stepson...

have we honoured our husbands enough,
father and son?

I found you both

ravishing, charming...

Their Majesties commend you.

Marie most of all.
See her complexion?

Her white teeth?

I need oak tannin,
cuttlefish powder,

cinnamon, the old tricks...

With Marie it's natural.

I missed a few steps, she caught me.

My husband suspects us.
Don't speak in public.

Meet me where we were yesterday.

After your dance.

Would you also take
this woman from me

even as you dare look at my sister?

Enough is enough, Guise.

One day you'll pay for
these two outrages with your life.

They met,

they exchanged glances.

How could she avoid him here?

She avoided me.

You're mistaken, Philippe.

Not at all.

But you can't share the feelings
of a husband and jealous lover.

Such things are foreign to you.

I don't like suffering.

Find Marie de Montpensier quickly.

The one you're waiting for
won't come.

And Mr. D'Anjou
wishes to speak to you.

It's in your interest

and not mine

that I must warn you
of Guise's duplicity.

Cover yourself.

Don't interrupt me,

but realise he's sacrificing you
to my sister

though he doubtless claims
the contrary.

He is seductive and ambitious,
deceiving all those he attracts.

He's with her now.

It was I who deserved you.

I was truly sincere.

Here's your rightful husband.

Watch over her, cousin.

She was about to stray.

You've humiliated me!

I don't know how much, but you have!

Before the Court! Before Anjou!
Before my King!

Your rascal Guise!

Leave me.

Prepare to return to Mont-sur-Brac

until my anger cools.

Go to the halberdiers.

Ask them to guard the gates tonight.

Then tell Quercy
to let the dogs loose.

Be quick.

Cry out and you're dead.

I'm too curious to cry out.

I'm listening.

I burn with a passion
for someone close to you.

I understand.

They tell her lies to snare me.

- I must speak to her.
- Write to her.

No! I must see and speak to her.

Her husband, her servants
and myself will stop you.

Then you will bring misfortune
on both of us.

What I want, she wants. I know it.

What I feel, she feels.

- If I die, she'll die.
- Silence!

I'll announce you.

But don't rejoice.

Promise that if she won't see you,
you'll accept defeat.

- She's waiting.
- Your word?

You have it.

If the Princess will see you,

she will light her window.

I'll open the door near the well.

Are you mad?

I'm afraid so.

I've just seen Mr. De Guise.

He demands to speak to you.

What insolence!

To justify himself.

Does he not know who I am?

Where I am? The risk we'd take?

He knows all that, Madame.
He awaits your answer.

Does he love me?

Yes, Madame.

- And do I?
- Alas, yes.

You urge me to hear him out?

When would he...

And how?

If that is the only obstacle,

place a candle in your window,

and I'll see to the rest.

Hurry.

You cruelly turned your back on me.

I saw you were engaged.

I can imagine what you'll say.

But you were with Marguerite
while I waited frightened and cold

at the assigned place.

Keep your voices down!

You waited for me?

- Assigned by whom?
- Me, earlier!

After the ballet. I told you where.

We never spoke.

How dare you?

I swear to you, it wasn't me.

I only see a dog lying out there.

Go look.

Anjou tricked you.
You spoke to him, not to me.

I'd have run to you, Marie.

I told the Queen
I gave up Marguerite.

It's you I love, Marie,
more than ever.

There's noise
in the Prince's quarters. Run, Duke!

Run!

Too late!

Hide in here.

Flee.

Open up. I heard voices.

I know you're not alone. Open up.

You?

If you have any honour left, fight.

Draw your sword!

My Prince, I know all your skills.
I taught them to you.

I'd have spared you at war.
I won't kill you now.

Then be gone!

And never show your face.

I won't spare you twice.

Get out!

I ordered our best coach.

It will be for Madame Benedicte,

happy to travel alone.

You decided...

To inaugurate
the freedom you impose.

Alone.

You won't make it to Mont-sur-Brac.

Beyond Chevreuse,
who will recognise me?

I will ride at my own pace...

My lord.

I want a letter... every week.

It will probably be the same one,
every week.

Sorry, sir. The house is full.

Don't you recognise me?

I stayed here
while serving Mr. De Condé.

Monsieur de Condé?

Could be,
but still, there's no room.

I don't need much.

I can pay, for a while.

In coin or in labour.

You say he's a scholar?

He's not disturbing anyone.

He spends all his time writing.
And he says he'll be off soon.

Princess,

dearest Marie,

child,

If I take
the liberty of writing today,

as I took the liberty of loving you,
it is because,

having decided to return to Maucombe
to bury myself in silence,

I feel the duty to serve you
one last time.

I fear for you, Madame.

Having had the joy to observe you
for so many hours,

who knows you better than I?

Who better than I knows
your harsh innocence?

Never given, always in secret,

waiting for others
to draw a cry from you

and furious at them if they do.

You pursue
the journey of life alone,

like a pilgrim in the shadows.

Don't follow the wrong star.

I know yours.

One hand above
the constellation Delphinus

which we studied together...

I gave it your name.

And I am certain it is indeed yours,

for I need only speak
of what breaks my heart,

and then it goes out.

If it so happens, as I fear, that...

Papist or Huguenot?

- Say the word.
- What word?

The word that tells us your camp.

Let me by!

I'm neither
with you nor against you!

Let him go.

Leave that woman alone!

Leave her alone!

Flee!

Your horse!

Royal business has kept me away.

The resumption of the war,

Anjou's departure
for the Polish throne.

Good day, Marie.

Good day, my lord.

I was a few leagues away and...

You were right.

Your horse seems exhausted.

As do you.

You're very pale.

I'm well.

Thinner.

I have a letter for you.

Monsieur de Chabannes wrote it.

- You opened it?
- Yes.

You read it?

Read, reread, memorised.

"Princess, dearest Marie, child,

"If I take the liberty
of writing today, as I took..."

You'll read it.

He's dead.

The Count of Chabannes.

He is?

I found it on his body.

During the heretic slaughter
in Paris.

You just read the part
about your star?

The wise Mr. De Chabannes
was prey to the same ill

you inflict on so many men.

Allow me to finish reading later.

Alone.

As you wish.

What follows is useful.

The Count speaks of me,
of you, of Guise.

That takes nerve.

I no longer fear The Scarred.

He's to wed Madame de Clèves.
Didn't you know?

Very beautiful. And very rich.

They're at Blois for the contract.

I'll go tomorrow.

His mind is made up.

We'll see.

"If it so happens, as I fear,

"that you are again seized
by a passion for Mr. De Guise,

"bear in mind that nothing ensures
his passion will endure."

"People of his nature
have brilliance, charm, audacity.

"But neither depth nor constancy."

I could have destroyed that letter.

I wore out two horses in my haste
to deliver it.

What better proof of my loyalty?
My forgiveness?

I could have also concealed
Guise's treachery.

Madame...

understand that

if you offend me by going to Blois,

I won't retain you.

But all will be over between us.

Forever, Marie. No turning back.

Forever.

Fine, gentlemen.

Your husband said you were ill
and shut away.

He was apparently exaggerating.

Your long silence pained me.

I grant that your duties in society

excuse the lack of news.

Well?

What you wished so strongly,
I'm prepared to do.

I have decided to break
my marriage bond.

What fervour!

Don't you know time passes
and in passing abolishes...

It has abolished nothing in me.

I tried to obliterate you.

I thought I had.

Dear Marie, you know...

I know you never ceased to appear
before me.

In hopes of what? Why?

You were like a doe in our midst...

Our?

Yes, Montpensier, Anjou, me.

The rivalry drove me to seek...

What you obtained!

Did I not sacrifice
the King's sister?

Marguerite had agreed, it was done!

For love of you I said no.

Is that not a sacrifice?

Do you know what it meant for me?

My fortune.

I paid you with a night
I don't regret.

Do you think what I abandon now
has no price?

It's all settled, Mariette.

Nothing can be done. I'm committed.

This union saves me.
Or else Anjou...

Then all is said.

Don't lower yourself any more.

Mr. De Chabannes' prophecy was true.

- Chabannes?
- He wrote,

"Bear in mind that nothing ensures
his passion will endure.

"If a more favourable opportunity
should arise..."

- as appears to be the case -

"his head will turn elsewhere."

Farewell, cousin.

Don't keep her waiting.

You brought me
the wonderment of youth,

yours and my own,

which belatedly resurfaced.

Wherever I am,
you shall accompany me.

Farewell, Marie, dear child.

Happiness is an unlikely prospect
in the harsh adventure of life

for a soul as proud as yours.

Allow me to reappear now and then
in your memory

like an old song we never
truly erase from our mind.

Having lost your husband's esteem
and your lover's heart,

you will always have
the perfect friendship of François,

Count of Chabannes.

As François de Chabannes
withdrew from war,

I withdrew from love.

Life would be no more
than a succession of days.

I wished it to be brief,

for the secret follies of passion
had become alien to me.