Original subtitles

The Princess of Cleves

Based on the novel by Madame de La Fayette

The King !

Madame, since this is your wedding ball...

...will you do me the honor of opening it with me ?

Cleves, your wife is very beautiful and very young.

- Are you happy ? - Too happy.

Too beautiful and too young.

When the King fell in love with me he was your wife's age, and I was...

- How old are you ? - Forty.

You see ? His Majesty and I are still happy.

And our love has remained just as fresh.

I'm sure that she's talking about her age again.

Your Majesty must agree that Diane de Poitiers does not look her age.

Lucky for her ; it's a heavy burden.

How can the King be fond of someone who was his father's mistress...

... and of many others, or so I've heard.

Why aren't you dancing, my daughter-in-law ?

Because François can't dance without feeling ill.

Look at us.

My son is too young...

I'm not young enough anymore...

And my husband's mistress is too old.

Charming family !

They're talking about us.

Why is the Dauphine not dancing ?

She's waiting for the Duke de Nemours.

Isn't her husband jealous ?

A husband of 15 is not a husband.

One can be jealous at any age.

Monsieur de Nemours turns every head.

Crowned heads turn as quickly as the others.

Marie Stuart is 17.

Don't show your impatience so much.

My impatience ?

All balls are masked balls, my dear.

And everyone wears his mask.

Don't let yours drop.

Monsieur de Nemours will come.

Chartres, have you seen Nemours ?

No, Sire, and I'm a little worried.

Nemours is the last person to show disrespect for Your Majesty by being late.

Love has its demands.

It's a sovereign before whom we all bow.

Do you know Nemours ?

It's hard for me to answer, Cousin.

I don't know anyone here.

I forgot.

It's hard to imagine a woman who doesn't know Monsieur de Nemours.

What's he like ?

He's the sort ladies like.

You are alone, Madame. I challenge you.

The first person who comes in the door.

Ask him to dance.

The King has challenged me, my lord. I invite you to dance.

Will you be my partner ?

Challenge met.

La Glorieuse.

Do you know each other ?

Sire, I am quite certain.

But Madame de Cleves has not the same reason to know who I am...

... as I have to know her.

Cleves !

Counter-challenge.

It's up to you to introduce the dancers.

Madame, I think you're the only one here who doesn't know the Duke de Nemours.

My wife, the Princess of Cleves.

Mr. Ambassador, admit that I'm giving England a handsome King.

Sire, I'm sure of Monsieur de Nemours' pride at marrying our Queen.

But has your Majesty informed him...

... that he must accompany me to London in a week ?

My impatience equals yours, Ambassador.

Rest assured.

Well, Georges.

You may be happy ; it appears the lady is wasting away.

The Ambassador just told me : his Queen is impatient to see you.

She doesn't want to wait even a week.

Sire, I'm not fully prepared for this journey.

I'm very sorry...

... but I will need 3 full weeks.

Georges, I've given my word.

I think you've exactly captured our little Cleves.

It seems to me it would be difficult for paint to equal the spectacle...

... of youth and grace Madame de Cleves presents.

But I find the expression a little severe.

Madame, I've not yet added the brilliant light...

... that the Chinese painters save for last.

We mustn't forget we are engaged by the King at the tennis court.

Four-fifteen, Madame.

Until later, my dear.

Do you think, Monsieur, I could without disrespect avoid the tennis match ?

Why ?

I'm a bit tired.

I'd prefer to be alone with you.

Your words should make me the happiest of men.

And yet...

... the truth is I'm not.

It seems that you feel for me only a sort of kindness.

Which can't satisfy me.

I don't know what you want that I haven't done.

Am I not your wife ?

I recognize that the position of husband gives me great privileges.

But not a place in your heart.

Do not doubt my love.

But perhaps it can't adjust to a world where truth is so unappreciated.

Madame, forgive me for tormenting you with words.

But if I insist that you accompany me...

... it's because I don't wish people to think we've had a disagreement.

You're right.

There never could be.

Fifteen all !

You see, Mr. Ambassador, here tennis is all the rage.

The King only cares about youth and games.

We have 250 tennis matches, just in Paris.

Do they play much in your land ?

I don't believe a game with balls would have much chance in England.

I think not.

Thirty - fifteen !

- Thirty all ! - You'll see, Guise, we'll win !

The King is a great player, I suppose.

He's lousy.

He's a great player since he never loses.

- Advantage. - Georges, I think you did that on purpose !

- He sees everything. - I do what I can.

Monsieur de Nemours even loses well.

He's marvellous, don't you think ?

Game !

Do you like tennis, Mr. Ambassador ?

I especially admire Your Majesty's play.

You're easy to please !

Nemours is so engrossed in the game he doesn't even see us.

I'm surprised ; he only has eyes for Your Highness.

True, I believe for a while he was partial to me.

But for some time now, he appears to have forgotten the things he said to me.

Sire, you are in such a state ! You should put on a coat--

Don't fuss, Madame !

Listen to her, Henri, she's right.

The Duchess is a mother to him.

Sire... Nemours.

There's one more game for me to win. I'll speak to him soon.

I'd be very surprised if Nemours leaves for England.

It seems that only a Princess such as yourself...

... could make him forget the Queen of England.

If it were me, I'd know.

But I know I'm not the reason for his indifference to the crown of England.

I'm sure that Monsieur de Nemours is passionately in love.

But he hides it.

I'm feeling rather tired.

Without your fatigue, I wouldn't dare admit my own.

Let's leave then. The King permits it at tennis.

Game !

Georges, you'll leave day after tomorrow for England

Sire, I'll end by thinking Your Majesty wants to get rid of me !

I'll end by thinking you look down on my profession.

Why don't you want to be King of England ?

Sire, the King of Spain is my rival.

You only need to show up.

And the tournament ?

Damn it, you're right ! I'd forgotten.

Your Majesty forgets that I'm teamed up with you.

Gentlemen, tomorrow we break a few lances.

We'll think only of the tournament.

So, Harry, are you going to stay here forever ?

That's a message from the Queen.

Chartres, go present her my apologies and tell her we're leaving at once.

The King sends me to offer his apologies to the Queen for the delay.

- The carriages will leave in 5 minutes. - Thank you, Monsieur.

We'll tell Her Majesty.

Chartres !

- Madame, the King apologizes-- - I know.

He's always late.

Listen, Chartres.

- I hate to be fooled. - But I--

Don't defend yourself.

If you have a mistress...

If I find proof of it...

... you will pay dearly.

I swear to Your Majesty...

... I have no attachment to any lady of the court.

I'll believe it, because I wish to.

And I wish to because I want you entirely devoted to me.

I chose you to confide all my sorrows and help ease them.

I appear not to suffer much pain...

... over the King's attachment to Diane de Poitiers.

But it is intolerable.

She rules the King.

She deceives him.

She scorns me.

All my people are hers.

Marie Stuart shows me no respect.

Until now I've not dared to trust anyone.

I trust you.

Be sure that I don't stop.

My whole life belongs to Your Majesty.

Let's hope so, because I'm Italian.

You should fear Italians, Chartres.

You should fear them.

Nemours, don't you worry about husbands ?

You're carrying my cousin's colors.

Marie ! A letter from a woman - it fell from Monsieur de Nemours' pocket.

- From whom ? - Not signed.

Give it to me--

Get in quickly, the King wants to leave.

I don't have time to read it.

Take it to the little Cleves ; have her identify the writing for me.

Catherine ! Do you believe your Vidame ?

You're wrong.

He had a letter from a woman in his pocket, and he lost it.

- Give it to me. - What do you take me for ?

A scoundrel ; hand it over !

- What ? - The letter.

Ask the Dauphine ; she has it.

Get in, Harry ! A husband must follow his wife.

This is not your scarf, Madame.

It's Monsieur de Nemours'.

I picked it up by accident.

We must return it to him.

I'll have it sent tomorrow.

What's wrong ?

I'm looking for a paper.

- Where did you lose it ? - I don't know ; that's what worries me.

Looking for a letter ?

- Hand it over. - Was it yours ?

Yes, hand it over !

I don't have it ; the Dauphine does.

She gave it to Madame de Cleves. You're her cousin - get it from her.

- Serious ? - Very.

- From a woman ? - If the Queen sees it I'm lost.

- Was it signed or addressed ? - No, but the Queen is suspicious.

Save me, Nemours.

Tell my cousin the letter is yours.

Impossible.

I beg you ; it's a question of life and death.

I have my own entanglements.

It would be very unpleasant if the Dauphine thought the letter was mine.

One more reason to speak to the Princess ; the Queen will know, she'll want it.

If the letter fell from your pocket, Marie Stuart will be upset.

But the Queen's another matter : she kills.

You don't want the Princess to give the letter to the Dauphine...

... who'll give it the Queen.

Yes. Your only risk is that you'll look like a cad to my cousin, who's a saint.

As strange as it may appear, I request that you receive the Duke de Nemours.

I just sent word that I would receive no one.

He's come to ask our help for our cousin the Vidame.

I'm very weak ; I don't feel strong enough.

This visit is too important to refuse.

Receive him.

As you wish.

Madame, my insistence must appear intolerable.

I am only obeying my husband.

I'm listening.

It concerns a letter.

There it is.

I am happy to see it's still in your possession...

... for its consequences could be terrible.

I'm not surprised.

The Dauphine, who asked me to identify the writing...

... will not be happy that such a letter could be sent to you.

Go to the Dauphine, and in a straightforward way...

... tell her the interest you have in this letter...

... since she knows that it's yours.

I don't know what people have told the Dauphine.

But I have nothing to do with this letter.

It was sent to Monsieur de Chartres.

It doesn't matter ; the Dauphine has heard otherwise.

And it hardly seems likely that a letter to the Vidame...

... should fall out of your pocket.

That's why, unless you wish to hide the truth from the Dauphine...

... I advise you to admit it to her.

I have nothing to admit, Madame.

The letter did not fall from my pocket.

If there's one person I wish to convince...

... it's not the Dauphine.

I'd like to believe you.

I mean, I dislike libertinism.

And the man who could receive such a letter must be behaving badly.

A love letter is not a crime.

I don't think the Vidame is a libertine.

Did you read the letter ?

Madame, I see that you still don't believe me.

It hardly matters to me if it was addressed to one or the other.

It would grieve me if you thought my behavior was deceptive.

Are you satisfied ?

What will you tell the Dauphine ?

Have no fear.

I will explain things and convince her you are still worthy of her favor.

Please understand, Madame...

... that the favor of the Dauphine is not what counts most to me.

Excuse me for interrupting ; Queen Catherine knows everything.

- The Queen ! - She's sent for the letter.

We must produce it immediately.

What will we do ?

I burned the letter.

The Vidame is lost.

All I can do is say that the letter was mine.

Not that !

The Queen is too sharp to be fooled.

You believed it, Madame.

The letter must be given to the Queen.

It no longer exists. There is but one way to save the Vidame : rewrite it.

Monsieur de Nemours must manage it.

Stay here until you've reconstructed the letter, no matter what.

But Monsieur de Nemours never read the letter.

I'm the only one who has.

Do you have a clear enough memory of it to re-write it ?

- Me ? - Yes, you.

I understand how much the task repels you.

Alas, we have no choice.

The Prince is right.

The letter must be rewritten.

In a woman's handwriting different from yours.

I feel unable to disguise my handwriting.

And if I forget the text, to invent a new one that will fit.

You must.

I will help you, and since this new letter is addressed to me...

I swear that with my help, the deception will never be discovered.

Forgive me, Madame, for making you do this disagreeable task...

... which is so contrary to your nature.

Since the life of our cousin is at stake--

Do it as quickly as possible.

I will distract the dwarf.

"My love... "

Isn't that a little abrupt ?

What would you put ?

It seems to me the letter began "My dear love..."

Alright, "My dear love... "

"My dear... love."

Wait : "I feel that our passion is a terrible danger...

"... which threatens you at every moment."

What's so funny ?

To whom do you attribute this terrible danger ?

Let's hurry. I'm almost certain that that was it.

"I feel that... our...

"... passion

"... is a terrible danger...

"... which threatens you...

"... at every moment."

The writing is excellent. Let's go on.

I can't remember any more.

Exactness is not absolutely necessary.

It's the meaning that counts.

I suggest : "The more I see you...

"... the more I adore you."

That's wrong. It's a letter breaking things off.

Then put, "Alas !"

"Alas !

"The more I see you...

"... the more I adore you."

That's very good, but you have to change the handwriting.

I was using my own. Let's start again.

If we go on like this, we won't finish until tomorrow.

You have a lovely house, Monsieur de Cleves.

Very modest, compared to what you're used to.

The Louvre isn't bad.

A bit large, but not bad.

It's certainly not dull at your house.

The Princess had a visitor ; she's coming herself.

She would not like to miss the chance of seeing you...

... and giving you that letter.

If you think it's easy to imitate a woman's handwriting--

But admit that I'm doing better than you !

- I admit it. - I'm listening.

"It's the fear I have of losing you...

"... that forces me to distance myself from you."

Go on. That's perfect.

"Don't blame me, my dear love, if I leave you.

"I had planned to pretend that I no longer loved you.

"But I no longer have the strength.

"I love you even more...

"... because I must no longer love you.

"Farewell, my dear love.

"Farewell."

Madame, you know the letter by heart.

Re-read it quickly, and finish the letter.

I didn't write anything down.

That's madness ! We haven't a moment to lose !

The Queen is waiting.

Start again.

I don't know... I can't... I don't feel able...

Calm down. I have a good memory ; I'll write it.

"Don't blame me, my dear love, if I leave you.

"I had planned...

"... to pretend that I no longer loved you.

"But I no longer have the strength.

"... the strength.

"Never was such suffering as mine.

"I love you even more..."

"I love you even more because I must no longer love you."

What is this gibberish ?

It's the letter.

- The letter. - Madame de Cleves gave it to me.

And Madame de Cleves gave it to you.

She made me wait an hour.

She made you wait an hour.

Catherine ! Listen to me !

Catherine ! Let me out !

Think hard, my lad, think hard.

I'll teach you to write love letters.

I'm very grieved to have brought this upset into the calm of your house.

I admire Madame de Cleves for being so unused to intrigue.

Congratulations.

My wife is almost a child.

Your servant. I would some day like to pay my respects to the Princess...

... in less unfavorable circumstances.

I would also like that, my dear Duke.

But even though I've asked Madame de Cleves to attend the tournament...

... she insists that I spend some time with her at our estate at Coulommiers.

Will the Court be deprived of your presence for long ?

As short a time as possible.

But my wife finds that in Paris we are too seldom alone.

Madame, we leave tomorrow for Coulommiers.

I have business there, and I feel that your health will benefit from it.

You think just as I do.

I wanted to ask you if we could go.

Georges !

You're riding like the devil ! Where are you leading me ?

We've lost the rest of the hunt.

Georges, what is it ?

I have a confidence to make to you.

I lost the hunt on purpose.

It was just an excuse so I could do something that means the world to me.

I'm leaving you.

Wait here for me ; it'll look like we got lost together.

I won't ask any questions. Will you be long ?

I'd like that ; but I fear you won't be waiting long.

For some time now, you've had a taste for solitude which surprises me.

And which pains me because it keeps us apart.

I find you even more serious than usual.

And I fear that you have some sorrow.

Why don't you want to return to Paris ?

I'm not troubled in my spirit.

But the tumult of the Court is so great, mind and body grow weary...

... and one seeks repose.

Repose is hardly fitting for a person of your age.

Your attitude and words convince me there's a reason you wish to remain alone.

And I beseech you to tell me.

Do not force me to admit a thing I have not the strength to admit.

Though I've several times meant to.

Know only that it is not wise for me to appear in the midst of the Court.

What do you wish me to imagine, Madame ?

By saying nothing you tell me that I'm not mistaken.

Then I will make a confession no one has ever made to a husband.

It is true that I have reasons to distance myself from Court.

And I want to avoid the danger that sometimes attends people my age.

However dangerous the course I'm taking, I take it with joy...

... to keep myself worthy of being yours.

Forgive me if my words displease you.

At least I'll never displease you by my acts.

Have pity on me...

... and love me still, if that is possible.

Have pity on me yourself, Madame.

You appear to me more worthy of esteem and admiration...

... than any woman who has ever lived.

And yet...

... I find myself the unhappiest of men.

I've never been able to awaken true love in you.

And I see that you fear that you feel it for another.

Who is he, Madame ?

That fortunate man who gives you this fear ?

For how long ?

What did he do to attract you ?

What path did he find to your heart ?

I have both the jealousy of a husband...

... and that of a lover.

Go on - tell me who it is whom you're fleeing ?

I beg you not to ask me.

Once again I entreat you to tell me what I must know.

It's useless to insist.

I assure you that nothing has been said that could affront you.

I can't believe you.

I remember your confusion when your portrait disappeared.

You gave it - you gave that portrait, which I cherished so.

How can you think I could be hiding anything in my confession...

... which nothing forced me to make ?

I did not give away my portrait.

It's true, I saw when it was taken, but I pretended not to...

... for fear of hearing what I didn't want spoken.

Then how did you come to know that you were loved ?

Spare me from giving you the details I'm ashamed of myself.

You are right, Madame.

I am unjust.

Refuse to answer every time I ask such a thing.

But do not be offended if I ask.

Monsieur de Nemours' joy was not long lived.

He'd learned that he had touched the heart of Madame de Cleves...

... and he had no hope when she could use against her own feelings...

... such an extraordinary remedy.

What would you think of a woman who could love a man without ever telling him ?

Without even approaching him ?

Who confessed this secret to her husband so he himself could protect her ?

I'd think it an incredible story.

This incredible story is true.

It happened to one of my friends.

I thought it was amazing.

And the husband ?

The nobility of his soul, and his admiration for his wife's conduct...

... did not keep him from being the unhappiest of men.

And your friend loves this woman ?

He is mad about her.

My dear, I was impatiently waiting for you.

I want to tell you a story that I'm sure you'll find interesting.

You wanted to know what caused the change in the Duke de Nemours ?

I think I know.

It's something that will surprise you.

He's in love and is loved by one of the fairest ladies at Court.

I see nothing surprising about that, for a handsome man like Monsieur de Nemours.

What's astonishing is this woman loves Monsieur de Nemours...

... and has never given him any sign.

And for fear of being overpowered by her passion...

... confessed it to her husband.

Monsieur de Nemours himself told this to the Vidame de Chartres.

Isn't it an amazing story ?

Nemours ! Come in quickly !

I want to know from you if a story I've heard is true.

And if it's really you who are in love with and loved by a lady at court...

... who hides her passion and has admitted it to her husband.

Look at him !

And decide if this story isn't about him.

I confess that no one could be more distressed than I...

... over the Vidame de Chartres' betrayal of my trust...

... in telling him the story of one of my friends.

I don't know why, Madame, you do me the honor of involving me in this story.

Vidame could not say it was about me, as I told him the opposite.

Nemours, I saw your embarrassment.

I was troubled by the justified reproach my friend could make me...

... by repeating something dearer to him than life.

He did not name the person he loves.

I know only that he's the man the most in love and the most to be pitied.

He is not to be pitied, since he is loved.

Do you believe one who feels a genuine passion could reveal it to her husband ?

No. My friend cannot flatter himself with any hope.

But unhappy as he is, he is happy...

... to have at least given the fear of loving.

Your friend's passion is very easily satisfied.

And I begin to believe that the tale is not about you.

We're going to be late for the tournament.

The King !

Madame, I absolutely must explain.

Rest assured, I do not believe your story.

A woman capable of such an act would not tell it.

A husband who heard such a confession would be unworthy if he repeated it.

The King !

What is it ?

Sire, Madame de Cleves is unwell.

Not today - the tournament can't wait.

Look to your wife.

- Are you ill ? - Hurry, Cleves.

Do your duty ; I will do mine.

You're very pale, my dear.

It's nothing, Madame ; I'm ready to follow you.

On, then !

It's not the King's sister !

It's the Dauphine and her husband, the Little King !

I want to see, Mama !

Quiet, or I'll smack you !

Why were you ill ?

- You ask me that ? - I do.

I was ill because of you.

Because of me, Madame ?

You did something unbelievable.

You repeated what I told you at Coulommiers.

- I, Madame ? - You.

I had the shame of hearing the Dauphine talk of it...

... without knowing that it concerned me.

How can you believe me capable of something so base ?

I counted on your discretion--

Respond to the salutation, Madame.

Why is the King carrying the colors of mourning ?

They are mine, Mr. Ambassador.

The custom is that each man carries the colors of his lady.

Catherine, is it proper for the King to wear mourning for his mistress's husband ?

Green is obviously more cheerful.

If the conversation was repeated it must have been by you.

Do not accuse me of a fault that you've committed.

Believe me, Madame, as I wish to believe you.

If the thing is known, we must avoid it spreading.

The Court is a cesspool.

I'm going back to Coulommiers and never coming back.

Who told the Dauphine about this conversation ?

The Vidame de Chartres. He had it from Monsieur de Nemours.

What ? Monsieur de Nemours knows that you love him and that I know ?

You're always talking about Monsieur de Nemours.

Monsieur de Nemours had the story from a friend, who named no names.

Why, when Monsieur de Nemours came to our house, would you not receive him...

... when you receive everyone else ?

You like everyone except those you're indifferent to.

I told you I will never respond to your suspicions.

Admit it, Madame.

You love Monsieur de Nemours.

Do you know whose scarf Monsieur de Nemours carries on his lance ?

I don't know.

You're right, Madame.

You'll return tomorrow to Coulommiers.

Bravo, Nemours !

Run and tell the King he's in no state to break another lance.

He won't listen ; he's an idiot, and stubborn as a mule.

Do you want to go back in the hole ?

Come on, Montgomery, to the list.

I entreat you, Sire, excuse me from breaking another lance.

Your Majesty and I are both very tired.

I want my revenge ! You're the only one who nearly knocked me out of my stirrups !

Very well.

Harry ! The Queen asks you to stop.

Tell her it's for her honor that I fight.

A shard has deeply penetrated the King's eye.

The wound is serious and deep.

Monsieur Ambrose Paré, the King's fate is in your hands.

Go first, Madame.

You are the Queen of France.

You have some accounts to render us.

Now that I have no more master...

... the gems the King entrusted to me will be returned to you tonight...

... and put in your hands.

I will be most obliged to you, Madame.

Follow the Court, ladies.

You are free.

You too, my dear.

I order you.

It's the end.

The King is dead ! Long live the King !

How hot it is !

What fun !

Will Your Majesty excuse me on behalf of the King for leaving ?

He was dead with fatigue.

He always is.

I hope your famly matters won't keep you away from Paris...

... and deprive us too long of your presence.

I hope Monsieur de Nemours doesn't have any serious problems.

Not that I know of.

He asked leave to go for 24 hours.

How is your wife ?

She's still very weak, and is resting at Coulommiers.

Madame Cleves doesn't find it dull there all alone ?

She likes the solitude.

What are you thinking ?

I have an idea.

It's absurd.

I just want to see.

Go.

May I dare ask the Queen the same favor as Monsieur de Nemours ?

How can you think of such a thing ?

Nemours is gone ; who will pass the King his shirt ?

As you wish, Your Majesty.

What is it, Madame ?

I heard you cry out.

It may be.

I might have cried out while dreaming.

This pavilion is too lonely.

I'd like to return to the chateau.

Help me.

Passion had never been so tender and violent as it was in this prince.

He gave himself up to the raptures of his love...

... and his heart was so overladen, he felt forced to shed some tears.

But they were not tears of pain.

They were mixed with the sweetness and charm found in love.

What do you want ?

To render you service.

What sort of service ?

I've just returned from Coulommiers.

I found it interesting to follow Monsieur de Nemours.

Are you listening ?

He spent the whole night in your pavilion.

No doubt he likes the solitude.

Get out.

Solitude for two.

Get out, I tell you.

Now, what I always say is...

Get out !

He was found unconscious 5 days ago.

We think he must have fainted.

Why wasn't I told ?

He wouldn't let us.

He must have been afraid of worrying you.

But in view of the gravity of his condition, I felt it was imperative.

It seems incredible.

I've done all I can, Madame.

Incredible !

You shed many tears, Madame...

... for a death that you have caused...

... and which cannot cause you the pain you display.

How could such an extraordinary deed as yours...

... sink into lie ?

How can you accuse me of lying at such a time ?

You weren't going to see Monsieur de Nemours ever again.

I believed you.

And then you deceived me.

I will die.

But after you've taken away the esteem and love I had for you...

... life would be a horror to me.

Death will be preferable.

Oh, you're delirious ! Or else I'll go mad.

- Tell me that tomorrow-- - Tomorrow ?

Tomorrow.

You can make Monsieur de Nemours happy...

... without guilt.

Me ? Guilt ?

I've never done anything you couldn't have witnessed.

It seems I'm dreaming and you're speaking of someone else.

Whom are you speaking of ?

I speak of my wife...

... who spent a night with another.

No, it's not me you're speaking of.

I've never spent the night with Monsieur de Nemours.

I've never let him touch me.

And I swear to you--

No more !

Vows or false oaths.

They come too late.

I feel myself so close to death...

... that I don't want to see anything...

... that could make me regret leaving life.

Listen to me-- look at me !

It's not my interest I defend, but your life.

It's impossible that my eyes can't convince you.

It's true, Monsieur de Nemours came to Coulommiers.

I thought I saw someone in the park ; I even thought it might be him.

But as soon as he came in the window--

I mean, as soon as he tried to climb in the window--

It's over.

You've killed Monsieur de Cleves.

Forgive me, ladies, for asking you to wait for me.

Queens also wish, sometimes, to walk alone.

Don't bother.

The Queen !

Forgive me for disturbing your solitude.

Don't be surprised by my visit.

The Queen may do what the Dauphine could not...

... for fear of damaging her reputation.

It's another woman who speaks to you, Nemours.

And she finds herself in the odd situation of pitying a man...

... whom she earlier had the weakness to fancy.

Let me speak.

People of our rank should be above mediocre intrigues.

This is the reason for the freedom I take...

... which violates the laws of decency and protocol.

You are in love and you suffer.

How can I answer with a lie...

... to a generous and unexpected offer of compassion ?

I even offer you a special assistance.

And if it's possible to convince the lady who resists you...

... she'll listen to me more readily than anyone else.

I dare not express my gratitude, Madame...

... or my suprise at a deed so rare and high...

... that none other can compare with it.

Let's be reasonable, Nemours.

As far as you still can be.

I've heard that Madame de Cleves continues in mourning.

She holds you responsible, refuses to meet with you.

It's true that I am most unhappy.

A Queen has no reason to remain indifferent...

... to attentions any woman would be flattered to inspire.

We're being observed. Let's walk.

I keenly pity your madness, and I'd like to feel jealous.

Consider me an accomplice, who still feels a genuine friendship for you...

... and is happy to help you.

In my extremity, I could not hope that any miracle of help were possible.

It's that help that I offer.

Come in.

Her Majesty the Queen wishes to see Your Highness.

Let's dispense with custom ; regard this only as a visit from your best friend.

Forgive me, Your Majesty, but you will find only sadness here.

And only my respectful devotion causes me to break the solitude...

... in which I've determined to live.

My dear, while you were Cleves' wife...

... I could only admire your resistance to your heart's desire.

- Madame... - I know what you'll say.

You're young, and free.

And I'm the ambassadress of a man who is tortured by your voluntary seclusion.

And nothing now forces you to torture him.

Madame, if you were not the Queen, I would beg you to leave me alone...

... and to speak no more of the Duke de Nemours.

You're the one who mentioned him.

Come, give up this inhuman attitude.

And believe a woman who could have had reason to act as your rival.

But the distress of Monsieur de Nemours has convinced me...

... to make you renounce this harshness which I'm sure your heart condemns.

I must frankly tell you that Monsieur de Nemours' imprudent behavior...

... caused the death of Monsieur de Cleves.

And I cannot forget this crime.

Even admitting that the offence that Monsieur de Nemours secretly bore him...

... could have overpowered Monsieur de Cleves...

... it is surely not a crime.

You unjustly accuse a man who's only guilty of dying for love of you.

The only guilty party is me, Madame.

For example ?

Did you give in to Monsieur de Nemours ?

No, Madame.

Do you love him ?

Would I say I was guilty if I didn't love him ?

Well, I can't understand you.

I confessed this love to Monsieur de Cleves so he could keep it at bay.

He thought I was guilty, and I could not clear myself before he died.

I admire you.

I know no woman who would carry her virtue to the level you do.

And not give in to her desires.

Alas, Madame, I accuse myself of having to conquer with great suffering...

... and flee in solitude the inclination I had for Monsieur de Nemours.

Where would virtue be, if we didn't have to conquer ourselves ?

May I ask the Queen to leave me to my grief.

And not to force me to display it to her.

You adore him.

Torment me no more !

I'm only too ready to let myself be convinced.

I know now, if he asks me, what I must say.

A queen's power is not so great as she proudly supposed.

Madame de Cleves refuses your visit.

She will never see you again.

Home.

Come in quick, Nemours.

I asked you to come because you helped me before...

... and now I'm happy to help you.

Since circumstances no longer are in the way...

... and your situation urges me to help you...

... I felt that a meeting with Madame de Cleves was essential.

She refuses to receive me.

Not even a visit from the Queen could shake her decision.

Perhaps she had a reason to refuse the Queen...

... but nothing stopped her from coming to my house for a family gathering.

She's here.

It's impossible !

It's very possible.

And I'm sure she won't resent the little trick I used...

... to get her to finally see you.

Forgive Monsieur de Chartres for having arranged this meeting.

Do not believe that I was fooled by my cousin's reasons for bringing me here.

I knew I would see you.

And I entreat you to hear me without interruption.

I won't say that I didn't see that you were attracted to me.

Perhaps you won't believe me when I tell you.

If you saw it, is it possible you weren't moved by it ?

Did it make no impression on your heart ?

I confess that you awoke feelings in me I'd never known before.

And I confess this with less shame because I say it at a moment...

... when I can do so without guilt.

But you know this only too well.

What a difference between learning it by chance, hearing it from your lips.

It's true that I wanted you to know, and I find sweetness in telling you.

But nothing can come of this confession.

Don't think that, Madame !

There is no duty which binds you.

You are free.

I know that things are of a sort...

... that the public might not censure us if we became united.

But do men retain their passion for long in these eternal unions ?

Should I expect a miracle in my case ?

Madame, you are too unfair.

And I see only too well that my reputation has been damaged with you.

What do you fear ? Why is my love so frightening ?

Nothing could keep me from knowing that you were very attractive.

By vanity, by taste, all women wish to win you.

There are few whom you do not attract.

And I believe that there is not one who wouldn't be happy with you.

In this state, I would have no other course but that of suffering.

I don't know if I would even dare to complain.

One can reproach a lover.

But what can you say to a husband when he no longer loves you ?

Why must I accuse you of the death of Monsieur de Cleves ?

Monsieur de Cleves thought I was happier than I am if he thought--

Don't speak of that event !

I'm ashamed of it.

And it's worse when I think of what followed.

I'll never forget the pain of Monsieur de Cleves accusing you of his death.

Reproaching me for having loved you.

Of having been with you.

It's impossible to overcome such powerful reasons.

Do you think your resolve can hold out against a man who adores you ?

Whose only wants to make you happy ?

It's harder than you think to resist one who attracts you.

And who loves you.

I don't hope to overcome my inclination for you.

It will make me unhappy.

But I will remove myself from you, whatever struggle it costs me.

There's no obstacle, Madame.

You alone impose a law which reason and virtue would not impose.

You love me ; I know my happiness.

Let me see your feelings and cease to make me unhappy.

I know that nothing is more difficult than what I must do.

Wait for what time can do.

Be happy in having made someone love you...

... who would never have loved if she hadn't met you.

My feelings will last forever.

And they'll exist equally whatever I do.

Farewell.

I entreat you, by all the power I have over you...

... to never try to see me again.

Madame de Cleves felt that only absence could give her some strength.

But her soul had been so deeply disturbed...

... that she began to languish as soon as she reached home.

For many months, the reason she had not to marry Monsieur de Nemours...

... appeared strong on the side of her duty...

... and insurmountable, on the side of her love.

Monsieur de Nemours was afflicted by this...

... as a lover would be by the death of his mistress.

His unhappiness led him to despair and extravagance.

And Monsieur de Chartres found it difficult to keep him...

... from displaying his feelings in public.

He had much difficulty also in stopping him...

... from going himself to get news about the Princess.

Yet, one day...

After vain attempts...

Mr. Majordomo !

This activity is very interesting.

What are these preparations ?

The Princess ordered me to make this pavilion as splendid as possible.

I thought the Princess had decided to withdraw from society...

... and live in solitude ?

She did, my lord. But last week she ordered me to restore this pavilion.

No doubt she's preparing it for some celebration.

Is it true, Doctor, that my cousin agrees to receive me ?

Yes, my lord, she saw you from the window.

Chartres ! What a nice surprise !

The surprise is mine, Madame, who feared to be turned away...

... and am delighted that you receive me.

Nothing makes me happier than to see you resplendent in that youth...

... which fades when grief assails us.

Not so fast, cousin.

You see me in shadow.

If I've refused to see you, it's only through fear of frightening you...

... by the sight of what my tears have reduced me to.

Your friends will be happy to hear that you are as beautiful as ever...

... and that you're ready to end a solitude...

... that has deprived them of you.

I'm just forcing myself to stay alive with the clumsiness of an invalid.

You see, Monsieur le Vidame...

I was wishing to die.

I think I'm getting stronger.

Let me admit that I intruded upon your seclusion to help a friend.

It's Monsieur de Nemours.

Who is in the keenest distress.

Is he ill ?

No one goes near him.

And your heart is too noble to pretend to ignore a suffering...

... of which you are the cause.

Chartres, I've suffered too much to use the tricks...

... with which the rest of the world amuses itself.

I'll hide nothing from you.

I was hoping you would come.

Take this letter to Monsieur de Nemours.

Maybe it will bring him some lessening of his pain.

And if it's true that my retirement is responsible for his...

... he'll no doubt be happy to learn...

... that soon it will be over.

Only, I can't bear that you might be deceived by certain steps I've taken...

... which unfortunately do not match what you might be expecting.

Come close, Chartres...

... and listen.

No doubt you can imagine the distress this visit has caused me.

It's her will, Monsieur le Vidame ; it cannot be changed.

But Doctor, can't you do something more, in spite of her ?

There are weaknesses stronger than any force...

... and against which our poor science can do nothing.

You should do what she asks, no matter how strange it appears.

Maybe she's wrong about her condition...

... and might discover an unexpected chance of happiness.

No, my lord. It's a miracle she's alive.

She only held on for your visit.

Her poor little flame is almost out.

Her orders are that I notify you when her life is slipping away.

I'll await your message.

Read it.

I don't have the strength.

She had the strength to write it.

It's like a dream.

If I open it I'll suddenly awaken.

You're not dreaming ; and the Princess awaits your reply.

Do you know what's in this letter ?

She told me "Take this letter to Monsieur de Nemours.

"If it's true that my retirement is responsible for his...

"... he'll no doubt be happy to learn that soon it will be over."

Is it my imagination, or does this letter horrify me...

... and burn my fingers ?

Chartres ! I won't die without seeing her !

It's to receive me that she's decorating the pavilion !

The Princess has arranged a rendezvous and will soon send for me.

"Come, meet me at the pavilion...

"... the same way you did the night you frightened me so.

"I will await you...

"... free to give you the vow of a heart which refused the offer of yours...

"... less by an excess of scruples...

"... than by fear of suffering."

She has nothing more to fear in this world.