All language subtitles for Carole.Cherie.UTF.en

Another bright July morning was
dawning over the Château de Bièvre

a few miles from Paris.

The fragrance from the flowers
around the statues filled the air.

But this was no ordinary
July morning

for this was 1789,
and, more precisely, the 14th.

The staff bustled about
preparing the celebrations

of the Marquis de Bièvre's youngest
daughter Caroline's birthday party.

Despite all this ancestral luxury,

the Marquis was now
on a tight budget,

hence Caroline's party
was actually a mere pretext

to showcase
his eldest daughter Louise,

whose hand a wealthy suitor
of excellent nobility

was meant to ask for that day.

The last of the Marquis's disposable
assets had been invested

in this wonderful gown for Louise,

for whom a husband
had finally been found.

A chemise. A chemise!

That's what I'll wear to my party.

An old dress, while that old prune
struts around in a new gown?

Never, you hear!

Open this door, right now!

You've raised her badly.
Shut her up, I despise shouting.

Marquis, it is an impossible task.

Mlle Caroline is ungovernable.

I hired you ten years ago
to govern her.

No one is ungovernable.
You sound like M. Necker.

Heaven forbid, Marquis!

It's my party, open the door!

Caroline, the Marquis
orders you to be quiet!

It's July 14th 1789, my birthday,

and yet my sister has a new gown!
I refuse to be silenced!

See, my dear? She won't listen.
You speak to her!

There's no respect nowadays.

If she were a boy,
I'd put him in the Bastille.

Hear that?
Your father is most displeased.

If you were a boy,
he'd send you to the Bastille.

The Bastille, on July 14th?
That's all I need!

Right, well let me tell you,

you're in for a 14th of July
you will never forget!

- Is that you, Caro?
- Yes.

What are you up to?

Crying. Leave me alone!

Well, when you've finished crying,
come and see this.

I think I've got it!

Why are you crying?

Because it's July 14th
and Louise is getting a new gown.

They want a husband
for the old prune.

I hear Salanches will propose today.

The prune will live at Court.

And so will I!

That's right, lass.

But come see me add my reagent.

If it works, I'll be rich!

M. de Lavoisier has promised
a thousand pounds

to the first chemist
to produce pure hydrogen.

I'll buy you gowns!

What colour gown
will you buy me first?

We'll see. Now don't distract me.

This is the critical moment.

Charming, charming.

Be quick,
our guests will soon be here.

Meanwhile, in the attic,
matters were coming to a head

and the risk of explosion

was imminent...

God, she's ugly.

If I were him,
I'd choose Caroline.

Caroline is a hag.

She hasn't an ounce
of her sister's class!

Your soft spot for her
troubles me.

Class is only a virtue
until one reaches the bedroom.

After that...

- Pooh, Monsieur!
- Pooh, Madam!

For 20 years,
I've rued the day I opted for class.

Caroline is a beauty.
She's a strong character.

Once I'm back in favour at Court,
you'll see, she'll go down a storm.

Go down a storm!

Caroline has no class.
She'll never go down a storm!

No one's going to ask me to dance.
I'm so ashamed!

We're lucky the flames
were extinguished.

Meanwhile the old prune
swans around in her new dress!

Oh, I don't know.
Salanches can barely stay awake.

- He's been revelling with the girls.
- How awful!

Actually, he's rather handsome.

Has he said anything?

He promised me
he'd make his decision today.

He looks half asleep.

It's the excitement.

Here. Bon appétit.

Thank you, lad!

The Count de Salanches
was meant to leave at 8.30.

He arrived at 9, all crumpled.

He'd spent the night with the girls!

We shaved him, got him changed,
now he's up and dancing.

Those chaps are indestructible.

Hey, have you heard the news?

It seems rioters sprung the prisoners
last night.

It's all over Paris.
They say it's turning nasty.

No such luck!

They'll call on Necker,
he'll sort it out.

Here he comes now.

Sir?

I'm not to be disturbed, Germain.
I'm sleeping.

When would the Count
like to be woken up?

When it's time to say farewell.

Watch what happens,
so I can report back to my aunt.

Very well, Sir.

My dear, you know, my brother
is dying of love for you.

Look at him!

Wandering like a lost soul.

Yes, my dear.
Dying, though, I am not.

How sad.

It would have been nice
to die together.

Like in an opera by M. Glück.

You're wicked!

He's a good man, he's handsome
and he loves you.

What else do you want from love?

Oh, I don't know.

Like you, I don't know a thing.

I don't think the convent
taught us everything.

We're a pair of
innocent young geese.

We won't begin to understand
till we've been plucked!

Caroline!

Caroline!

Does this château never sleep?

It's July 14th,
Mlle Caroline's party!

14th of July...

You're a pest
with your 14th of July!

Not having slept, for the Count,
it was still the 13th.

I'm worried, my dear.

Apparently Caroline is alone
with a young man.

Leave her to it.
That's how matches are made.

She's with young Berthier,

whom I foolishly invited
with his sister.

Dash it, the boy has no name.

Have someone find her.

I'm all for escapades...
with the right person.

Times have changed.

His is a huge fortune.

His father is surgeon to the King.

It seems his Majesty
enjoys his company.

He speaks with him in private
every morning.

The great lords
curry favour with him.

He has great influence.

Dash it.

Then I hope they don't find her
right away!

Salanches, bored with the party,

was still seeking a quiet spot
to nap in.

He soon spotted
a promising-looking door...

You're very kind, Georges.

If you knew how unhappy I am...

Amuse me a little.

I've loved you, Caroline,

since that first day I saw you
in the parlour.

I'd give my life for you!

Oh, your life is too much.

Give me a flower instead.

What do you say
when you give a flower to a girl?

It's a Centaurea cyanus.

Nasty language! It's a cornflower.

It has no fragrance.

Find me one that smells nice.

Here, a Melandrium album,

with a slightly spicy fragrance.

Oh, my little Georges...

All right, so you love me.

But you could hardly be any duller.

When one offers a flower to a girl,
one doesn't do it in Latin.

I love you, Caroline.

I strive to be worthy of you,
to make you happy.

In Latin?

Don't laugh, Caroline.

My studies are done.
Next year, I shall be a prosecutor.

And that's not all.

I'm at the heart of political events.

Big changes are afoot.

The King needs new men
with new ideas

to lead the Kingdom
to its new destiny.

Your people are out of touch.

But certain resolute young men

are interested in
the people's happiness.

What about a girl's happiness
on a summer's afternoon?

Does that not interest you?

I don't understand, Caroline.

Here.

Here's the...

in Latin.

Disappointed by her young Latinist,

Caroline decided to leave the party

and take refuge in her beloved attic.

Who's there?

Don't try to scare me,
it isn't funny!

I'm too easily scared.

Both curious and anxious,

Caroline approached
this sleeping figure

that had invaded the solitude
of her attic.

ls that you, my dear?

Come... let's sleep a little.

We'll make a decision
once we have slept.

There... that's nice.

Let's sleep.

O Lord, this is wrong.

I'm sure that what I'm doing
is wrong.

But if You made girls this way,

if they were meant
to enjoy it so much,

then You ought to expect it,
oughtn't You?

But who are you?

I don't know.

But... you are...

Yes.

What are you doing in my arms?

I don't know.

But given our predicament...

Perhaps it's a dream.

It surely isn't a nightmare.

Oh, my darling.

Now what exactly
are you doing in my bed?

I'm not in your bed.
It's you who are in my attic!

Why?

Get up, Caroline.

I'm wide awake now.

This is madness.
People might be looking for us.

No one can find us here.
This place is mine.

Get up, please.

Make yourself decent.

Q" my own?

Yes, on your own.

You are most perplexing.

I don't think I have ever met
such a pure creature.

But be careful. Life is hard for
those who harbour a lust for it.

I don't understand.

How can something so pleasurable
be wrong?

You'll see when you're a big girl.

Now come quickly.

- What about proposing to my sister?
- Life's too beautiful.

I shall only marry when I am old!

No one here? Let's hope
they are not looking for us.

Hey, where is everyone?

Come, we must find them.

What tumultuous event could have
marred this lovely 14th of July?

There's Charlotte!

Goodbye, Caroline.

Wasn't Georges with you?

No, what's happened?

You haven't heard?
It's the rioters.

Father's friend came to warn us.

The escaped prisoners
have roused up the people.

There was real street fighting.

The Bastille has been stormed,
M. Delauney may be dead!

Is that all?

Have you heard?

We must return to Paris,
the King may need us. Hurry!

Guess what, I've been plucked.
It's wonderful!

Caroline!

Pity they stormed the Bastille.
We would have had fun.

I'll tell you about it in Paris.
Good-bye.

This is no time for kisses.

Georges, someday you'll realise
there's always time for a kiss!

Gaston! It's nothing,
they've just stormed the Bastille!

Storm the Bastille...
Fat lot of good that will do!

They won't know what to do with it.

It was October already.

Like the Revolution, the grounds of
Château de Bièvre had turned red.

By summoning the States-General,
the King hoped to quell unrest,

but Mirabeau refused
to leave the hall,

while the King's brother
was first to flee abroad.

This was when the Marquis de Bièvre
was invited by Louis XVI,

on the recommendation
of Georges 's father.

Caroline, of course, was too young
to visit Court.

The problem of finding Louise
a husband remained.

During their stay in Versailles,

Caroline was to go to the convent
with Mlle de Tourville.

This latest injustice appalled her...

Caroline had heard no word from
Gaston de Salanches since July.

Political events scuppered any chance
she may have had of meeting him.

She had written,
but her letters went unanswered

or failed to reach him.

Caroline, her life changed by
the tumult she felt in his arms,

now knew that she was
desperately in love with him.

She would have plenty of time
to dream of her hopeless love

at the convent Mlle de Tourville
was taking her to.

But God looks out
for unhappy girls,

although He may disapprove
of their conduct.

Caroline's carriage was stopped

by a gang of rioters
on their way to Versailles...

To Versailles! To Versailles!

First they unseated the coach driver.

The ever-intrepid Mlle de Tourville's
attempts

to fend them off with her parasol
soon turned awry.

Keeping her wits about her,

Caroline slipped out
of the other door,

glad to escape the incident.

Having not been allowed out alone
for 16 years,

she now had a pressing matter
to attend to.

Caroline decided to make use
of her newly found freedom

to visit Gaston de Salanches.

Gaston?

Gaston?

Gaston... my darling Gaston.

Is this really where you live?

It's me.

Poor dear!
I scared her off!

Caroline.

Your latest conquest, no doubt.

Too late, you'll never catch her.

Some other time.

You didn't tell me
you liked young girls, too.

Citizens!

I beg you to listen to your allies!

You're wasting your time.

Best return to Versailles.

Citizens!
Violence only begets violence!

The new world must be born of order!

Citizens!

The Assembly...

Caroline!

Caroline!
What are you doing here?

As you see, walking and crying.

Here, have some.
The sugar will do you good.

Don't try to speak yet.

Is it good?

What were you doing with that mob?

I don't know.

Not any more.

Only that I was crying.

Caroline, all these events
have upset you.

They're bound to scare a young girl.
But do not cry for the King.

They will not harm him.

My tears are not for the King.

The King can look after himself.

I have enough to cry about.

But why?

How good it is to have you here
in this house,

reclining, as if we were at home.

Papa having your father invited
to Versailles

will overcome the obstacles
between us.

He cannot fail to see that the future
belongs to men like me.

Future?

What future?

France's future!

And maybe yours too.

I love you, Caroline.

The day I marry,
I shall be a wealthy man.

You'll have the nicest house,
the loveliest gowns...

Ah, men!

They tell you things.

Not much, actually.

A little, though.

Then you find them
with another woman.

Who has slandered me?

I swear to you
that I am faithful!

You, maybe.

But...

But what?

Of course...

you are not the kind to ridicule me
with another woman.

There is no other woman
in the world but you!

Of course, you are not very...

But at least you love me.

And it is good to be loved.

Almost as good as being in love.

Is it not?

M. de Bièvre more readily agreed
to Caroline's marriage

knowing his children would be safe
with Georges Berthier,

recently elected to the Assembly.

He himself had decided
to emigrate with the Marquise

the day after the ceremony.

Cheerfully flaunting
her new gowns at her sister,

and, as mistress of the house, able
to order Mlle de Tourville around,

Caroline never considered
that her marriage to Berthier

might entail more
than just parties and gifts.

Perhaps she also truly believed

that her affair with Gaston
would be renewed

and that girls can find pleasure

and love with any young
and not-too-ugly boy,

all the more so
if he loves them tenderly.

Help Madam to undress, Adèle.

Oh, Georges, why her?

Well, Georges?

I can't find the bed, my dear.

In Latin.

Caroline's wedding bouquet

may well have been the last display
of elegance in the Ancien Régime.

Like the bouquet,
soon relegated to the attic,

the Ancien Régime withered.

M. and Mme de Bièvre
were right to emigrate.

Louis XVI left it too late.

He was arrested in Varennes
and returned to Paris

amid the hostile silence of a people
that no longer believed in him.

He then became prisoner
of a stormy Assembly.

But Europe fought the Revolution.

The Convention drew up new measures
to ward off foreign invasion.

The youth enlisted,
while the guillotine worked overtime.

None of this prevented spiders
from spinning their webs

around the abandoned wedding bouquet.

Nor did it deter theatre goers.

Georges Berthier took his wife
to the opera

to celebrate their 2nd wedding anniversary.

Georges, now an influential
member of the Assembly,

more often neglected Caroline
for a rival: the Revolution.

Caroline was growing bored.

Particularly that evening.

Operas are seldom much fun,
especially those of this period.

Producing good theatre as well as
a good revolution is a lot to ask.

You can't have everything.

Then all of a sudden...

What a wonderful surprise!

I disagree, Henri de Bièvre.

I too despise the excesses
of the Revolution.

But the House of Austria
is our traditional enemy.

We cannot wish her victory.

Well, I wish her victory,
with all my heart!

I intend to leave France
and join my father

to fight your army of thieves

and tramps!

Those tramps are France's army,
Henri de Bièvre.

Charmeil and I will be joining
the Rhine army

a few weeks' hence.

What, you too?

I am a man of habit.
I have always fought for France.

Why change now?

You forget who you are.
And where your king is!

And you forget where you are!

The Koblenz émigrés
are France's enemies.

What has France become?

Your Public Safety Committee's
bloodthirsty executioner?

Henri!

My king is in prison because of you!

You are in my home!

Without me you would have been
arrested by now!

Let them arrest me!
I shan't stay a second longer!

Henri!

He'll be lost in the night
without his papers.

Monster!
If my brother is arrested,

- I'll never forgive you!
- Calm down.

I'll catch him up and take him home.

Excuse us, Sir.
Come, Charmeil.

Sir...

Your brother will be quite safe.

And let me thank you
for all your kind attention.

You could hardly have been
less tactful.

How so?

I know that M. de Salanches
courted you before our marriage.

My congratulations.
Personally I had no idea.

I met M. de Salanches only once.

He was meant to ask
for my sister's hand.

Nice of you to invite him along

on our 2nd wedding anniversary.
Some days are sacrosanct.

Some celebration!

Tainting the memory of such
a perfect marriage is sacrilege!

Caroline...

You mean I do not make you happy?

But I love you.

Perhaps. What of it?

It isn't quite enough
to make two people happy.

Caroline!

I love it here, Henri!

Modest but safe.
Only the modest is safe nowadays.

You can smell the burning
at my place.

Here too, actually.

How's the cook?

From trying to produce pure hydrogen
to boiling eggs!

Best forget about producing pure
hydrogen for a while, my dear Henri.

M. Lavoisier
was guillotined yesterday.

Oh, how I hate them.
All of them!

Don't.
They are rebuilding the world.

And this periodically rebuilt
better world comes at a price.

No, you know how politics bores me!

I get enough of it at home.

Why starve to death
just because you risk the guillotine?

Now sit down!

If that's for me,
we barely know each other.

Ignore it.

Open up, it's Léon!

- Hello.
- Hello, Henri.

You should announce yourself
before knocking.

I bring good news.

First, a passport for Henri.

Your new name is Gallus,
a glasses seller from Basle.

Pack your bags.

Your boss will meet you
at the 2 o'clock coach.

And in 3 days,
I'll be with the Prince's army!

A turn of events
that will surely change the war!

All aboard, we're leaving!

Has Berthier made contingency plans
for Caroline?

He defended the outlawed Roland
in the Assembly today.

He was booed from the rostrum
and may be arrested at any moment.

What is it?

Where is Caroline?

Where is she? Answer me!

Henri took refuge in an apartment
found for him by M. de Salanches,

at 4 Rue de l'Arbre-Sec.

I think she visits him there.

Every day.

Perhaps she is there.

Go and see.

We might all be arrested tonight.

Pack your bags,
go to the Rolands'.

If Caroline returns,
send her there immediately.

There.

If you go to war,
I shall be alone then.

Be brave, Caroline.

The war won't last forever.

I'll be back in Paris on leave.

You still have Berthier.

My husband?

Is that to be my only refuge?

My husband's arms?

I can't take any more. Hold me.

Don't be sad, Caroline.

One day the world will smile again.

Smile at us.

- I'll be old by then.
- No, you're not yet 20!

The Revolution will grow old
before you.

Take me. Now.

I've waited too long.

We cannot, Caroline.

Your husband's life is on the line
at the tribune.

Charmeil confirmed it earlier.

He's in danger.

Caroline, are you there?
It's Georges, open up.

What are you doing here?

Henri has just left the country.
I've taken the apartment.

My wife is here, is she not?

What is it, Georges?

I fear there's a misunderstanding.

Madam came here
to say farewell to her brother.

It's a disgrace.

Battling to avoid the scaffold,

putting my life on the line
in the name of justice and freedom.

Meanwhile here...

in this hovel... like beasts...

Time to leave.
The Sectionnaires are armed.

Our house might be pillaged.

Go to the Rolands'. Your sister
and Mlle de Tourville are there.

What about my gowns and jewels?

Never mind.

Make haste.

I'll go first, I may be recognised.

Promise me you will part directly.

You have my word.

When shall I see you again?

I'll try to call in
at the Rolands' tonight.

Who's that?

Don't worry, it's me.

I called at the Rolands'.

Why didn't you 90'?

It was absurd. The Rolands
are as at risk as you are.

If I'm to be arrested,
I'd rather be in my own bed.

It's true, actually.
Roland is in jeopardy too.

What's happened?

Nothing yet.

The session went on late.

The Montagnards urged
armed petitioners to come.

But many honest folk took up arms
in the Committee.

The petitioners didn't move.

Robespierre adjourned the meeting
himself.

Most of the départements are with us.

The volunteers are ready to march on
the Convention if things turn nasty.

Do you meet with Salanches
every day?

Oh, don't start, there are more
pressing matters, Georges.

You haven't answered me.

I shan't answer, I'm exhausted,
I need to sleep.

He was your lover, wasn't he?

I need to know.

I need to be sure.

I beg you.

I'll forgive you, but tell me.

He was your lover, wasn't he?

He has been denounced.

His name has been added
to the list of suspects.

What's that you say?

Gaston has been denounced?

By Whom?

You coward! I despise you!

Open the door!

Georges... Georges!

Leave by the window.
I'll delay them.

Open, in the name of the People!

I thought he was your lover.

Forgive me.

I'll go and warn him.

At last! It took you a while
to let the People in.

- Is citizen Georges Berthier here?
- No, citizen.

We'll see about that.

I said he isn't here.

Let us in, we'll see for ourselves.

We have orders from the Committee.

If he isn't here,
maybe his wife is!

Who are you, anyway?

Where's your warrant?
This isn't legal!

Enough!
Anything the People do is legal!

- Hello.
- Hello.

Well?

Your husband
has escaped from Paris.

I've procured a pass for you
under a false name.

Charlotte sent you these clothes.

Maybe you should get changed.

Maybe there's no point.

My darling.

You see?
Revolutions are rather timely.

Louis, where's your mama?

Ma, the concierge wants you!

What can I do for you,
citizen Bouchon?

Would you guard the lodge, citizen,
while I go to the Section?

Is something afoot?

Could be. Remember that so-called
artist on the 2nd floor who vanished?

Of course. Very shady!

There's something fishy going on.

An aristocratic-looking type

just went up with a travel bag.

Probably a spy!

Go and report him,
I'll man the lodge.

If he tries to leave,
call for help.

There's always a law-abiding citizen
who will help you out.

Of course!

What now?

If we leave,
that gossip will alert everyone.

Hide in the kitchen cupboard
till they've taken me away.

No, my darling!

Now I've found you,
I shall never leave you.

Dearest Caroline...

To think we may only have a minute
to embrace.

A minute can be a long time.

Don't make so much as a move.

It wastes time.

Let's just hold each other tight.

What a pity, Caroline.

I believe I would have loved you.

And in times gone by,
we would have been allowed to love.

Well, citizen Bouchon?

Listen.

Too late, citizen Poilu,
the office was closed.

The gate is barricaded
at night, citizen.

You must go at dawn,
before they rise.

These are strange times
for a concierge, citizen.

All those stairs to clean
and tenants to denounce!

Not a spare moment
to go and see people guillotined!

- Goodnight, citizen Poilu.
- Goodnight, citizen Bouchon.

Sleep well anyway!

The night is ours.

We are rich.

The shutters are open.

We must leave
before she comes out.

You're not even looking at me.

It's best not to.

Your chemise...

Some use my chemise is.

It's in a terrible state
and Charlotte didn't send any.

Come quickly.

Leave everything.
You have your pass?

- Gaston?
- Yes?

You do love me, don't you?

You don't despise me?

I've loved you since the first day.

But now isn't the time to say it.

If you love me, take me with you.

To war?

Let's stay away. It's dangerous.

You are a baby, Caroline.

Our desires count for nothing.
We are slaves of circumstance.

We must be brave
and go our own ways.

And one day...
we shall meet again.

Come!

I don't understand, dear.

It's such a complicated story.

Do you realise the gravity
of your request?

Before leaving
I must save a young lady

who cannot take the coach
till tomorrow.

I ask for one night only.

Coming from you, that used to be
a more agreeable request.

And a far less dangerous one.

Madam, this citizen
demands to see the gentleman.

Are you mad?
Why didn't you wait?

It's all right, Rosalie, leave us.

A sans-culotte was staring at me.
I was afraid.

What did you tell Rosalie?
She's untrustworthy.

I said---...

Mme de Coigny was unsure
whether to take you in.

By coming here...

I beg your pardon?

You see, despite all the indulgences
I have enjoyed thus far,

I cannot allow myself to tempt fate
for someone...

I do not even know.

Very well, Madam.
Thank you for your good intentions.

Sorry to have bothered you.

Come now, Gaston, please.

Well, why not?

She's so charming,
with her wounded dignity.

I shall keep your young friend,
Gaston.

Thank you, Rosalie.

Blow out the candles,
I'm so sleepy.

Good night, Madam.

Good night, Rosalie.

Forgive my inflicting
this torture on you

but I wanted my chambermaid to think
I'd thrown you out.

She's untrustworthy.

After ten years here,
she's suddenly become a patriot!

If you like,
we can sleep together.

- Take off your clothes.
- Yes.

The moonlight will suffice.
We'd better not light any candles.

But you are ravishing.

As your lovers
have surely told you.

My lovers?

Good Lord, she's shocked!

How old are you?

19 and a half.

"And a half," she says.
How touching!

Where did you spend last night?

You forgot your chemise.

- But, Madam...
- Don't panic.

- Here's one.
- Thank you.

Come beside me,
you need to rest.

Gaston is charming, is he not?

But M. de Salanches is merely
a friend of my husband's.

No need for the façade,
Gaston has told me all.

Then I saw you
in his garden one day.

- It was you who...?
- Yes.

Yes, it was me who...

- I'm so ashamed!
- Why?

It just proves that life is funny.

Our lover is on the road,
on his way to war.

He's unsure who with, or what for.

Meanwhile we are in bed together.

Listen!

Who's there?

Me, Madam.

Come in!

We couldn't talk Rosalie out of it,
now they're here, in the garden!

Try to detain them in the vestibule
as long as you can.

Yes, madam.

Get up, quick.
I knew I couldn't trust her!

What am I to do?

Citizens, citizens!

I'm under orders
not to disturb Madam,

she's asleep.

Then she can wake up.
I give the orders!

In the name of the People, open up!

What's all this?

You are hiding an outlaw,
sought by the People for her crimes.

- Me?
- Don't deny it!

Hand her over willingly

and you won't be charged.

An outlaw?

But citizen,
I was asleep in my bed.

No arguments,
we have information.

You knew the risks
when you took in citizen Berthier,

an accessory to her villainous husband
in acts of federalism.

Ah, I see now.

A girl came to me earlier today,
recommended by a friend.

She seemed disreputable,
and I insisted that she leave.

As my servants will confirm.

It's true.
But Madam is too kind.

Search the place!

Pardon me if I don't get up.

I'm half naked.

We may be patriots
but we are well mannered.

Allow me to sit, though.

I've been carrying out searches
for two nights.

The People have too many enemies.

No rest for patriots!

Can I offer you a coffee, citizen?

You still have coffee?

No, thank you.

My stomach is delicate.

Coffee stops me sleeping.

Are we done?

We can't stay here all night!

In the bed?

That's where I am!

And I am not citizen Berthier.

Ask anyone.

Someone might be here!

I'm almost naked!

The People are virtuous,

but the law is indifferent
to a citizen's sex.

I'll check myself.

Did you see, citizen?

Yes, citizen.

Night-time searches are tough going.

Come on, then.
Good night, citizen.

Good night.

And don't dream about it!

Wasn't she hiding anything
in her bed?

Of course she was, you ass!
As is her right.

I'm flat as a pancake!

My poor little kitten.

According to her pass,
Caroline was a seamstress

on her way to see her parents
in Caen.

She would be safe in Normandy.

Paris was a Montagnard stronghold

but the Girondins held much
of the West of the country,

where they were readying
their resistance to the Convention.

The problem was getting there
without being recognised...

- Have you come from Paris?
- Well, I...

Take my advice:
go to bed or there'll be none left.

The coach from Caen is due.
Follow me.

- Good night, everyone.
- Good night!

Get in bed, quick.
We're full and they won't disturb us.

- Care for some?
- No thanks, I'm not hungry.

Now that's what I call
beautiful underwear.

Must have cost a fortune!

It was a gift.

Figure of speech!
Did you nick it off your former boss?

She's pretty enough to have been
given it by a friend.

Those men nick what they want
during searches!

That's not stealing,
it's repossession.

What used to belong to the toffs
is ours. Blow them out!

After a trip like that,
we're all dead beat!

Yes, we need restful night.
Right, my lovely?

Citizen, I have something important
to tell you.

Come into the hall with me.

What is it? Who are you?

Don't you recognise me?
The coach driver.

Let me help you
or you'll be arrested.

The local Committee
knows you are Caroline Berthier.

A passenger recognised you.
You're about to be arrested.

Trust me.

You can hide in the barn.

Tomorrow I'll put you
in the fodder wagon.

- Thank you, Sir!
- Thank me later. Come.

I'm in my chemise.

Come anyway, we must hurry.
I'll come back for your things.

Is the stone floor cold? Wait...

But I'll tire you out, Sir!

Not "Sir", "citizen".
"Sir" is forbidden, on pain of death.

My name is Jules.

And don't worry about tiring me out.

You'll perk me up no end.

- Is it much further?
- No, we're here.

Mind the candle.
They'll soon find us in a fire.

There we are, my girl.

They'll never find you here.

How can I thank you?

Would you fetch my things, Sir?

Jules, I tell you.

Your things can wait.

As for thanking me... that's easy.

It must be worth a little kiss.

Sir, I forbid you!

Don't be silly!

The Committee
doesn't know anything yet.

I recognised the name on your purse.

Rather this than the guillotine, no?

But Sir...

Jules, I said!

Letting folk oversleep
isn't very republican!

Well, lucky for you it's late!

All aboard, we're leaving!

Scoundrel!

Ah, dear Gaston...
Look at your Caroline now!

But you had to go off to war
and leave her on the road.

So proud, you silly thing.

Like all men, with their fancy words.

"Our desires count for nothing.
We are but slaves of circumstance."

Well, darling,
you see where circumstance gets us?

Reaching Normandy
was now out of the question.

Starving, with nowhere to hide,

and only a few hours
from the Château de Bièvre,

Caroline decided to try her luck
in the village

among the people
who had once loved her.

She waited till nightfall
behind a wall outside the village

where she had once been a happy,
carefree girl, adored by all.

Her heart racing,

she recognised the blacksmith's yard,

where she had spent long hours
with Henri

amid the smell of grilled corn.

How may I be of service, citizen?

Don't you recognise me, Brochu?

No.

She wandered the village streets
at the mercy of a patrol.

Suddenly she had an idea.

Her old nanny!

Of course!
That was where she must go first.

But where was her house
in this maze of streets?

She had been there many times
as a child

but it was all so long ago.

Yes, this was it.

Here was the saint.
Only its head had been cut off.

Here was the staircase.

It must be on the first floor.

Let's hope she was still here,

dear Cathy who so often rescued her
as a child.

Good Cathy, whom she called Mama.

Caroline hardly dared knock.

Who's there?

Open up, Cathy!

It's me.

Oh, Cathy!
My good Cathy!

But it's me, Caroline.

Don't shout, I beg you.

Don't you recognise me?

Cathy... it's your baby!

Of course I recognise you.

But what are you doing here
in the night?

You haven't changed.
To think I used to call you Mama.

You've changed a great deal
in 3 years.

You're thinner and taller.

You must have seen hard times.

But everyone should get
their share of suffering.

Indeed, Cathy.

There's a price on your head.

A thousand francs.
Everyone is talking about it.

Poor child.
I could have offered you a drink

but you'd better not stay.

You knocked so loudly,

and the neighbours are Montagnards.

Well, it's been nice to see you.

See yourself out quietly.

But Cathy!

I've nowhere to go.
Hide me here, at least tonight.

Hide you? You must be mad!

You'll have us both sent
to the guillotine!

- You can't just throw me out!
- Just watch me. Let go of me!

Like it or not,
I'm staying here.

Denounce me if you want.

There she is, the little brat!

You think you can just stamp your feet
and get your own way?

Maybe when I was in your service.

But this is my house.
Now leave!

No, I won't!

We'll see about that, you minx!

I owe you a few slaps

I couldn't give you back
when you were a lady.

What's going on in there?
It sounds like an argument!

Tell her I'm your niece from Paris.

Run. Run for your life.

I'm keen to hang on to my head.

I'll wager you've been recognised.

But how can I escape now?

What's going on,
old mother Cathy?

Answer me!

This is all your fault.
All right, you asked for it.

Help! Help!

It's the girl Caroline de Bièvre!

She...

Help me, someone!

Stop her,
it's Caroline de Bièvre!

Stop her!

Are you sure it's her?

I could hardly be mistaken.

I was her nanny!

Caroline was sent to Paris
for sentencing.

After an exhausting journey
with unscheduled stops

amid promiscuity and vermin,

via a series of overcrowded
provincial prisons,

a large hall at the Conciergerie

- the latest fashionable location
for people of refinement -

was where a bewildered Caroline
awoke one fine morning...

Well Madam, I trust you slept well.

The journey wasn't too tiring?

Thank you, Madam.

Maybe you'd like to wash.

You can use our basin.
Filled with cold water, of course.

And you may use our towel,
if you haven't your own.

Thank you very much.

Here he is, my dear.
He arrived last night.

You did well to come.
We were bored without you.

Sorry, I'm just washing.

But I adore soap!
I haven't seen enough of it lately.

See you presently.

I travelled here with a most
charming lady - the Bièvre girl.

The one who married Berthier.

Caroline Berthier is here?
What a surprise! I know her well.

I hid her under my mattress.

You're here too, Madam?

My Caroline!

Where did you come from?

Anybody who is anybody
lives here now.

I gather you've met Boimussy?

We spent the night together.

Oh, nothing inappropriate.
We were between two gendarmes.

I bet Boimussy importuned you anyway.
He's impossible!

But look at your dress!

Come with me, I'll lend you another.

You'll need one later.

Why is that?

It's a surprise.

A ravishing girl.

Yes, we were almost alone in a barn.

I offered to make her pregnant

to spare her the guillotine
for 10 months.

Women are strange.
I'm no monster but she refused.

A head full of love.

But a head so precariously perched...
It makes no sense!

- There.
- Oh, Madam...

Yes, take it all.
I want you to look beautiful.

Don't keep me in suspense.

We are expecting a visit.

Can't you guess?

From a soldier... a soldier on leave.

Gaston!

Caroline!

Quite a surprise, isn't it?

I thought you'd travelled abroad,
Madam.

Only around France, Sir,

before ending up here,
like everyone else.

Look, my dear,

I've had him a lot lately.
He's all yours.

It'll stop you calling each other
Sir and Madam.

It's not the done thing any more.

You visit this lady every day, then.

She's a dear and kind-hearted friend.
As you've seen.

Now I'm trying to help her.

Help her how?
You think I don't know what goes on?

For a fee, visitors are allowed
a few hours in a quiet cell.

It's a disgrace!

If I were on the Committee,
I'd forbid it.

Don't be silly, my dear.

It's far less scandalous
than you think.

I can only look the other way for an hour,
then I'd hurt my neck.

All right.

Don't tell me
you meet with her in here...

Caroline, my love.

It's time the two of us
had a serious talk.

In the age we live in,
life is so short.

Fine words and illusions
are not enough.

Mme de Coigny is a charming friend.

Why didn't you ask for my hand
that day in the attic?

Things would have been simple.

I didn't know then
that I would think only of you.

And yet,

you are the only woman
I've never been able to forget.

Look what I wear close to my heart.

It never leaves me.

Yes.

The day after you left,
I returned to Rue de l'Arbre-Sec,

after dark,

to look for it.

Had the concierge seen you,
you'd have been guillotined!

Very probably.

But I couldn't go off to war

without this piece of fabric.

My darling!

I was waiting for you.

Perhaps your friend can be saved.

Fouquier-Tinville's secretary
will talk to his boss.

Fouquier protects his old friend
Dr Belhomme,

letting him recruit clients
for his nursing home.

Belhomme sends them back
when their money runs out.

If she has the funds,

Mme de Coigny can be taken
to Maison Belhomme.

He has a place for her,
he'll issue a certificate.

Make it out in the name
of Caroline Berthier.

Only one place is available.

I know.

Beauvrais!

St-Aignan!

Jean-Louis Fleury!

Aline and Catherine de Mercin!

Dinezza!

Fombreux!

Boyenval!

Comtenay!

Deguenay!

Boisrobert!

Lantrernont!

Santier-Marroy!

De Bellevalle!

- I've got 13!
- No, 14.

It's 13 I tell you.

Berthier.

You're Berthier, out you go.

- But I haven't been sentenced!
- Quick!

But you're mistaken!

Here she is.

Are you drunk?

She's extra,
we've already found our 14th.

Aren't you citizen Berthier?

Are you Berthier?
Then that's the lot.

You're confused.
This one's off to Belhomme's.

Madam, I'm saved.
I have a place at Belhomme's!

I'm sorry.

Don't be, my child.

I'm very happy for you.

Dr Belhomme,
a man with influential friends,

had found a neat way
to make his fortune.

He had accommodation bills issued

to occupants of the Conciergerie
who could afford his fees,

then interned them
in his nursing home.

Belhomme's was a very expensive
home indeed

where but one disease was treated,

albeit a fatal one:

the guillotine.

Sit down, citizen.

As you can see,
the home is well lit and calm.

The calmness your health requires.

Take heart!
Under strict medical supervision

and the appropriate diet and care,
you can only get better.

Citizen Doctor, if this is
for my benefit, don't bother.

We all know that this citizen
is no sicker than you or I.

Here, sign the discharge form.

- There.
- Good luck, citizen.

By the way, Commissioner,
you haven't dined with us in a while.

Too busy, Doctor.
Too many people at the moment.

There are never too many!

Come, I have a parcel for you.
Supplies are so hard to come by.

Shall we say octidi?
Octidi it is, then!

M. Belhomme!

My dear Duchess.

Forgive me,
I have someone waiting in my office.

Did you wish to tell me
that your troubles are over?

No, Sir.

But my friends should very soon
be bringing me...

I'm an old sceptic.
I don't believe in friends.

Friendship in this day and age
is but a pleasant memory.

Let's say tomorrow night
at the latest.

Belhomme,
do you know who I am?

You can hardly throw me out!

Throw you out, Duchess?

What do you take me for?

I'll just have
to declare you cured.

It's an outrage!

It is my duty.

Medically speaking,
it is the case.

Now try a little harder, Duchess.

By tomorrow night.

Remember your old friend
the Duchess de Choiseul.

And yet she was a lady of means.

She failed to meet her payments
one sextidi.

By octidi, she was climbing
the scaffold.

How fragile the flesh!

Till tomorrow, then.

Oh, do sit down, my dear lady.

As I told you, in your condition
one can never get enough rest.

But I am not really sick.

People's health
is so delicate nowadays.

Now citizen Salanches,
who alerted me to your ailing health,

has agreed to pay your fee here.

As you must know,
it's 1,000 francs.

A month.

A day, my dear lady.

But one must not skimp
when treating a fatal illness, must one?

This is citizen Chabannes,
my colleague.

She will show you to your room.

You may be disappointed by the rather...
spartan furnishing.

I had only a few patients here
before the Revolution

and have had to improvise.

Follow me, please.

Belhomme!

There.

Another diamond I was fond of.

It's a very dear souvenir.

Let me see.

It's a fake, Duchess.

You're dreaming, Belhomme!

Given to me by the Beloved
in circumstances

where a gentleman
does not give fakes.

Then Louis XV was dreaming
when he bought it.

It's a fake!

Come now, I'm in a hurry.
Tomorrow night at the latest.

Here.
You have two companions.

The one with the biggest mattress
will share.

Meals are taken in the refectory.

Aside from the fees

the Maison Belhomme
was a pleasant place to be.

Some people even threw small parties,

with the doctor's blessing.

Caroline was invited
on her first night

by two Dutch financers,

detained for trafficking
military supplies,

whose vast fortune allowed them

an indefinite and secure stay
at the Maison Belhomme.

The van Krift brothers were
as fat as they were ugly

and as ugly as they were rich.

Kiss me.

Be gay, be gay, or you will bore me!

I like people to be gay.

Cheer up!

Can't you laugh?

Here, drink.

Drink.
I'll soon have you liking champagne!

Fancy liking parties
but not liking champagne!

Come on, drink, drink!

What an appalling spectacle.
That boor is bullying the child.

Who is she?
She doesn't look like a whore.

Hardly.

She's the chairman of Forbin's daughter.

She's here with her father
and brother.

Naturally they can no longer pay.

So they turned to the van Krifts,

like everyone else here.

Right now he's making her pay
for this week.

- Is she his mistress?
- Not even.

He touches her for his amusement.

Maybe one night one or the other
will take her.

Or leave her alone,
if another girl pleases them more.

They have their pick.

It's disgusting.

Rather my mattress in the dormitory.

How can you sit idly by and watch?

Well, Madam,
my capital is almost gone.

To keep going, I eat only carrots.

Belhomme sells them to me
at the price of fresh wild boar.

I'm hungry-

At their feasts, the van Krifts,

who are very generous,
serve cold pâté and champagne.

It allows me to sleep
on a full belly.

Such cowardice.

Yes.

I've struggled a dozen times
with what I used to call my honour.

This is the house of cowardice.

Wait awhile.

You are new here.

Is the new divine creature,
sent by heaven to cheer us up,

all in a sulk?

You are our queen,
yet you hide in a corner.

Would you do my brother and I
the honour of dining at our table?

Thank you, Sir,
but I am not hungry.

A woman of means.

Undress!
I've had enough of prudes!

Music!

Forgive me,
I forgot you were here.

I'm Marie-Anne de Forbin.

Excuse me, I'm so tired.

I'm so ashamed!

My poor child.

You have no idea.

I can imagine.

Don't think about it,
try to sleep.

My father and brother don't know.

The van Krifts don't give anything
for nothing.

I'm 16, I've never loved a boy,
no one has ever touched me.

In my two months here,

I've forgotten that I was ever
a little girl.

Tonight they stripped me
and made me dance.

I'd rather they got it over with,
once and for all.

- Go to sleep now.
- They lied!

They only gave me half a week.

Tomorrow I must go
and explain to Belhomme.

Is that you, Marie-Anne?

- Yes, Madam.
- Ah!

Well, did the two wretches cough up?

They only gave me half.

Always make scoundrels like them
pay in advance!

What about you, Madam?

It's all settled.

I leave tomorrow at dawn.

It's almost a relief.

I'm no longer afraid.

In two days, it'll all be over.

I'll be back with
my old friend Choiseul.

But first I'll show those yokels

how to die with class.

In fact, I won't die.

I was at Agincourt, the Crusades,
Rocroi...

The new Duchess de Bussez
will give me grandchildren

who will take me, still dead,

to more battles and more glory.

Death is for yokels.
They have only their skins to save.

Ah, you young girls!

If you only knew what it was like
in the court of Louis XV.

One evening at a fancy dress ball
at the Cadijeans',

a stranger
in a periwinkle blue domino

threw me his handkerchief.

He was the picture of elegance.

I picked it up, laughing.

It was the King, my dear.

He was beginning to tire
of the Marquise.

My darling, how wonderful!

Come, there's a tool shed
at the bottom of the garden.

We'll be alone there. Come.

So, do you like my garden shed?

Oh, you look sad. Why?

We can be happy here all our lives,

till their filthy Revolution is over.

You must stop being a child now
and listen.

Being grown-up never did me any good.

It will be hard to keep you here.
You know what Belhomme charges.

Georges is wealthy.

All your husband's property
has been sequestered.

I went to see Charlotte, she gave me
all she had: 4,000 francs.

That's four more days in here.

I have barely enough
to cover this week.

- But you have friends.
- Nobles, all of them.

All now dead, abroad,
or impoverished, like me.

Only Thiébault could advance me
the sum you need.

I shall return and find him.

No, I forbid you to!
I'm so afraid, alone here.

It's our only chance
of finding the money.

Ask Mme de Coigny.
Her purse was very well-lined.

So you're too ashamed to ask her.

Perhaps she is still your lover?

Then go to her, like you did
that day I surprised you!

Go to the bitch!

Quiet! Mme de Coigny
was executed two days ago.

I promised her a place here,
but gave it to you.

Farewell, Caroline.

I'll try to find the money.

Gaston!

Don't leave this way.
I may never see you again!

Anything else, Sir?

Everything is just fine.

Just a little solitude.

Then I'll leave.
Just ring if you need anything.

Of course.
My freedom, for example.

Failing that,
bring me some champagne.

Very well, Sir.

My word!

Madam!

You, here?
You get everywhere!

I just arrived,
I felt a little tired.

- May I show you my room?
- A room?

It's quite lovely.

How can this be?

We are piled high on mattresses.

I pay an exorbitant price.

I pay 1,000.

I pay 7 or 8,000 my dear.

How do you manage?
It takes a vast fortune.

Vast! Let's not exaggerate.

This apartment is yours too,
should you so desire.

- Still a faithful woman?
- Still. More so than ever.

Pity.

I find it hard to believe.

Will you have lunch with me?

Lunch isn't being unfaithful.

No, excuse me,
I'm late for Dr Belhomme.

Come in.

Sit down.

I'm compiling a list of patients

who are healthy enough
to return to the Conciergerie.

Your first week has been paid for,
plus another four days.

Your stay terminates tonight
at midnight.

Regretfully I shall have to
classify you among those

who must leave tomorrow.

But M. de Salanches
went to raise the funds.

They should be here by now.

He gave you formal assurances!

I've seen so little of funds
that are meant to be here by now.

And no amount of formal assurances
can cover my costs.

I'll pay you, M. Belhomme.

Do you have no pity?

I'm a poor man,
I cannot afford to have any.

Pity is outrageously expensive.

It's a sentiment the van Krifts
can afford, though.

They have asked me to tell you...

What's a little indulgence

for a pretty young lady
in difficulty?

Are you unwell?

Just checking whether you are
as repulsive to my ears

as you are to my eyes.

You are.

Caroline, although desperate
to remain faithful to Gaston,

was even more desperate
to be alive the following day

- she could not be one
without the other -

and went down to the floor
reserved for residents

who still had many years
ahead of them.

Come in.

What a nice surprise!

Come in, please.

Sir, excuse my coming here.

My friends have not been prompt

and tomorrow I must pay Dr Belhomme.

I was wondering...

whether you could advance me
2,000 francs?

Of course.
With pleasure, Madam.

- Here.
- Thank you.

Right, I'll go back up.

Had you not taken this loan,
I would have implored you to stay.

You know I've desired you
since that first day.

Now I'm embarrassed to act on it.

But maybe that's why you borrowed
the money from me.

No, I truly need it.

I'm being hounded.
I am afraid.

What a lovely room.

In the attic
with all those people snoring,

crying out in fear at night...
It's terrifying.

May I rest awhile on this divan?

Why, of course.

A little girl.

A poor, scared girl,
that's what you are.

These times are not for little girls.

They need to be happy and warm.

And taken care of.

Yes.

They need to be told:

Don't be afraid,
I'll take care of you.

I'm big and strong and can
protect you from this nasty world.

Just be a little girl
and let yourself be loved.

Yes.

What are you doing?

Looking at you.

Why?

I want to see your smile
one more time.

Dearest Caroline, you're asleep.

Open your eyes, my child,
and try to smile.

There.

Thank you.

Now sleep.

You'll have plenty of time
to see me smile tomorrow.

Where are you going?

Dearest Caroline.

I didn't want you to wake up.

I left a goodbye letter for you.

- Goodbye?
- Yes, I'm leaving.

I have no more money.
I spent the last of it yesterday.

But...
I thought you were very wealthy.

I was...

a few days ago.

I took this room and
the most expensive accommodation

because I'd rather live well,
even if it means dying sooner.

Take your money back.
You could last another two days.

Two days! What about you?

Remain calm, Caroline.

Thanks to you,
I've found great happiness.

You've given me all that is beautiful
and intoxicating on this earth.

Here they come.

I'll think of you
till my last breath.

It's a short time to be faithful.

Try not to forget me completely.

Keep a small part of me
deep within you.

That way I will live on.

No!

Brace yourself.

Go back to sleep, my love.

Thanks to you,
I leave a happy man.

You'll survive, I'm sure.

So are we leaving today or tomorrow?

Today.

You, clear out of here.
Back to the dormitory!

Imbecile. You stupid girl!

You should have asked
before jumping into the arms

of a wretch like Boimussy.

The van Krifts were keen to help.

Now they're vexed.

Your pleas will fall on deaf ears.

First thing tomorrow,
you're out!

You heard what happened

once the van Krifts stopped paying
for that Forbin girl,

she was cured!

Would you hear me out?
I have something to ask.

What now?

The list has been sent.
No amount of money can help you now.

Our hands are tied.

I'm as penniless as ever. Tomorrow,
I face the Revolutionary Tribunal.

I just wanted your opinion
on my intended speech.

Oh, speeches up there
are most overrated.

Hear me out.

I'm sure it will interest you.

Here's what I intend to say.

"Citizens..."

That's how you start, isn't it?

"Citizens, as a Girondist,
I deserve to die,

I confess to everything.

"But before I go,

I must do the Republic
one last favour."

It's my right.

- Can you guess what it is?
- No.

"Citizens, I have made
a grave discovery.

"There is, in Paris,
a so-called nursing home

"where, thanks to shameful collusion,
any counter revolutionary with money

"can save his head
and conspire against the People."

- You wouldn't dare!
- Oh? Why not?

It would do you no good,

and seal the fate
of all your friends here.

You think I care what happens
to anyone here?

The only resident I liked
just left this morning.

Careful, my girl!

Why?
You can't lose your head twice.

Smarter folk than you have tried
to blackmail us and failed.

So why are you shaking?

We're not shaking, idiot!

We've been blackmailed a dozen times

and survived because
we have connections.

Connections?
Fouquier-Tinville, perhaps?

My audience will be the People.
They are the ones being cheated.

The same People
you all tremble before.

We'll see whether Fouquier-Tinville
sacrifices you to their anger.

If it's him or you, I guarantee
he won't hesitate for a moment.

Good evening to you.

It's your turn to be afraid
of tomorrow.

I shall sleep well tonight.

One more thing.

Everything is written in a letter
I've handed

to an influential friend.

He is to open it should I miss
my date with the Tribunal.

You never know, I might want
to kill myself before tomorrow.

There. Now go and fetch her.

We have to be quick.

What is it?

Nothing, my dear. Come.

Dr Belhomme has taken pity on you.

As you see,
I'm here as a friend.

Be quick and don't make a sound.

Bring your things.

What's that!

It's you, Madam.

You are mad.

Who is this woman?
Did you kill her?

Kill?

The child has a vivid imagination.

Almost as vivid as mine.

But let me reassure you,

it's just a corpse, lent to me
by my friend at the mortuary.

Such favours are easily arranged
between confreres.

Then tomorrow morning,

the gendarmes will come for you
and find a hanged woman.

Driven to suicide,
for fear of punishment.

Imaginative, is it not?

I think your speech
to the Revolutionary Tribunal

would be unpleasant
for the both of us.

You see?
Papa Belhomme has a kind heart.

You can slip away.

It takes more than that.
How can I manage without papers?

Here are some men's clothes,
and a pass for one of my valets,

who was to visit his family
in Quimper.

- I need a horse and money.
- What! Isn't letting you go enough?

Not if I'm caught immediately.

I'd rather deliver my speech.

Come now, we are not monsters.

We'll give you a horse
and enough to live for 8 days.

- 1,000 francs.
- For 8 days?

More than enough!

You're out of touch with prices.

Check your register.

I'll need 8,000 francs.

"A thousand francs a day,
my dear lady!"

Give it to her and be done with it.

The bitch has got us.
You'll get your 8,000.

It's almost morning.
Get dressed, here.

Pretty ladies are expensive.

But one good turn deserves another.

We live in uncertain times.

One day a hero, the next, a traitor.

I'd like you to sign
this certificate.

"Dr Belhomme,
out of love for King and Country,

"risked his life to save me
from the guillotine."

Sign it Caroline de Bièvre.

Just in case our beloved sovereign
returns.

And should the Girondists'
single united republic prevail

- you never know -
I've prepared another.

"Citizen Belhomme,
out of love of human rights,

"saved me from the despotic fury
of the Convention."

This one, of course, must be signed
Caroline Berthier.

Thanks to the 8,000 francs,
and Dr Belhomme's pass,

Caroline managed to reach Brittany
unhindered,

where she was to board a ship
in Quimper.

The unfortunate thing
about civil wars

is that one is constantly
being arrested.

As she fled the Revolutionaries,

Caroline fell upon a party
of royalists, who arrested her.

Tell them as she might
that she was delighted,

that they were going to be
the best of friends,

the wary partisans
were having none of it

and took her to their leader,
believing her to be a spy.

- To his Majesty, Louis XVIII!
- No, XVII!

- We're not up to XVIII yet!
- Yes, XVIII!

Let me spell it out.

The King, by definition,
does not die.

To the King, then, gentlemen.

- We've arrested a spy.
- A spy? Shoot him!

He says he's one of us,
fleeing Paris for Quimper.

They always say they're one of us.

Throw him in the cellar!

He also claims he's a woman.

Pretty?

I don't know, Viscount,
I'm no gentleman.

That's different, show him in.

I don't know about you
but I'm bored with village maids!

What say we have ourselves a Blue
for dessert?

Why were you on the road?

I was fleeing Paris,
on my way to Quimper.

To join those gentlemen in London?

Yes.

That's what they all say!

Everyone we capture is one of us.

Why weren't you fighting 2 years ago?
You're a traitor or a coward!

I am a woman.

That's the 3rd hypothesis.

Good grief... so she is!

Filthy brutes! You think it's funny?

The clerks at the Conciergerie
had more manners!

Uncouth individual! Pig!

I'm ashamed that
you're a gentleman!

We don't take that from anyone.

Coward!

No one ever called me that before.

Pont-Bellanger.

- Viscount...
- Interrogate her.

Very well.

We'll do it later.

What's your name?

Caroline Berthier,
formerly de Bièvre.

Nice name.

Once arrested, revolutionaries
develop a taste for noble names.

Have you had yours long?

I'm the daughter
of the Marquis de Bièvre.

Better and better.

A question...

Any relation to Henri de Bièvre?

I studied with him in 88,
with the Jesuits.

My brother, Sir.

We'll soon find out.
What was Henri like?

Small, brown hair, dark eyes.

Correct.

France is full of small,
brown-haired, dark-eyed boys!

She got lucky, that's all!

Can you tell me any more?

No.

No. Ah, yes!

He has a gash
on his right forearm,

right round to his elbow.

By Jove, gentlemen, it's true!

I inflicted that wound,
fighting with him.

In that case, Madam,
accept my regards and my apologies.

I have indeed acted as a lout.

I beg your pardon.

War has made rogues of us all.

Pont-Bellanger.

Bréhaut.

- Comrades.
- Kenadec.

Do I put her in the cellar, then?

Shut up, idiot. She's a friend!

Treat her with due respect.
Now go.

Lebec!

Set another place at the table.

Madam, would you care to...?

On my right, gentlemen.

I am your general.

You'll eat a civet of the kind
not seen in Paris for years.

With pleasure, gentlemen,
I'm famished!

But first,
there's something I must do.

These storybook times were not
conducive to faithfulness.

The day after the slap,
swapping her boy's cast-offs

for a dress robbed by the Royalists
from a stagecoach,

Caroline became
Pont-Bellanger's mistress.

Thus began a wandering existence
with the counter-revolutionaries.

It was a life of impromptu parties
in a château of their choosing,

where the dancing was often disrupted
by an attack from the Blues.

Caroline, who could already dance,
learned to defend herself.

She was soon firing beside her lover,
like a real Amazonian.

At night they would go
to the bedroom,

black with powder and dust
and drunk on desire.

Her life of love and adventure
might have endured

with Caroline completely forgetting
about Gaston.

Then one night,
artillery fire rang out.

The London émigrés'
attempted landing at Quiberon

was halted by Hoche's troops.

For political reasons, the princes
wanted the landing to fail

and ordered the counter
revolutionaries to stay away.

But that night, brought through
the lines by devoted peasants,

the first injured began
to flood into the château.

Can that screaming man
not be helped?

He needs surgery.
It's impossible.

Stop!

Coward! Where were you
while we were getting killed?

Where can we put the new arrivals?

It's full here,
we can't get them upstairs.

The chapel.
Spread some straw.

No drinks for anyone
with stomach wounds.

Is the surgeon coming?

Not till the middle of the night.

Some are already half dead.

We've put them behind the altar,
out of sight.

You did right.

Madam... Madam...

Give me a drink, please.

Yes, right way.

Caro!

Henri!

My little brother!

I'll take you up to my room.

No. With the others.

The surgeon will see you first.

It's too late for me, sister.

It's my belly.

It doesn't matter,
that's how I wanted to die.

Dearest Caroline...

You must have endured a lot
since I left you.

I have neither the strength
nor the time to hear everything.

I only know that deep in my heart

you have always been good,

like the brave little sister you are.

Do you remember the hydrogen?

No more explosions for me.

I'll prevent you from dying,

I know I will!

Dearest Caroline, you always believed
yourself capable of anything.

But I am capable of anything!

Stay close to me, without moving.

It's good to die at home.

Like we used to do...

in the attic.

Listen!

Henri!

You were handsome, it's true.

And I enjoyed being in your arms.

My little brute.

ls that you, dearest Caroline?

You spent too long caring for them.

Come.

Come to bed.

You should sleep a little.

No.

Listen.

I'm going away.

What was that?

Where to?

I'm leaving.

Are you mad? For where?

The Blues are all around.

I'll get through.

Don't say anything.

We agreed that once one of us
had had enough...

You're lying!

I know you haven't had
enough of me.

You lay there last night
and you loved me.

You are my woman.

No.

Just your mistress...
I can't explain.

When a woman is mine, I keep her!

You don't scare me.

You are strong and handsome
and brutal.

That's how I loved you.

And you are my lover.

But you have no hold over me.

My brother Henri
was one of the wounded.

He died in my arms, at dawn.

Cursing the cowards
who didn't help at Quiberon.

I had orders from the princes.

I don't blame you.

But this long night
has aged me a lot.

I understood things
I knew as a little girl

that I had forgotten
when I became a woman.

One should love.

With one's soul too.

Pleasure is but pleasure.

My soul...

Not something you understand,
my little brute.

It was a gift from my dying brother.

There is one I love with all my soul.

I don't know where he is.

Perhaps he is dead.

But I'm going away, to wait for him.

None other shall touch me
from now on.

Do you see now
that you cannot keep me?

What are you doing?

Have you not understood?

I'll take you through the lines.

We've passed their lines.
The road to Quimper is clear.

I'll take you.

Press on, my love.

Straight ahead.

You are safe.

The Blues were everywhere.

The Royalists were facing defeat
by Hoche's troops

and Caroline was arrested again.

Caroline Berthier.

But far from provoking sarcasm,

this time her name aroused
warm interest.

The face of the world
had indeed changed in Paris.

Jeered by the same crowd
that had lauded him,

Robespierre had been led
to the guillotine.

The Thermidorians set up a Directory
with the Council of Five Hundred,

and the previously outlawed
Girondists

were now back in the saddle
and more feathered than ever.

Georges Berthier was once again
an important figure

and, commanding great respect
and bearing a pass in her own name,

Caroline set off for Paris

in a splendid carriage
requisitioned for her personal use.

Caroline was unenthusiastic
about seeing her husband again

but it was with great satisfaction

that she travelled in comfort
to Paris, hoping to find there,

like the rest of France,
a life of joviality

that had long been out of fashion.

Alas the political U-turns
at that time

were quicker than the transport.

Georges, a ringleader in
the 18th Fructidor coup d'état,

had just been arrested
and sentenced to deportation.

The guillotine had given way
to penal colonies.

Death was just as quick

without arousing the sympathy
of a public

that had had its fill of blood.

One evening,
three men tried to escape

and were shot dead by the gendarmes.

Georges Berthier was among them.

Caroline was just trying on a gown
in the Merveilleuse style

when Charlotte.. .

Georges is dead.

Now she was a widow.

She was truly upset.

Deep down she was fond of Georges.

But while she wept,
in her conflicting female heart,

her grief was tinged with something
very much like hope.

Hope was rising in France too.

After some initial reverses,
our armies

- ill-equipped, but well-manned
and enthusiastic -

had forced back the enemy deep into
Germany and onto the Dutch coast.

You know, the men don't care
about taking Cologne,

only about the beautiful German girls
to be found there.

For me, German or not German...

You can't live like a monk.
The girl you loved is dead.

You are alive.
Think of other things.

Happy Charmeil!
Think of your duty.

We'll bivouac here.

Halt!

About time!

You aren't eating?

No.

That tune tries my patience.

Tell that musician to sleep.

Sir.

What is it?

A lady has been stopped
in her carriage.

She says she needs to see you.
Her pass is in order.

Let me see.

Are you mad?

I'm not mad, Sir!
She gave me those papers.

Who's there?

Me, darling.

How could you think
I would accept death?

Didn't you think I truly loved you?

Oh, how shy you have become!

Come, let's go elsewhere.

Shit, this place is like
the Concert Party!

He's entitled to a kiss.

No, he is not!
It gives the men ideas.

Have you locked me in this school
to teach me a lesson?

I had the letter.
I kept it with me for a long time.

Until the day it became too much
and I burnt it.

How dare you open a letter
addressed to me?

- You were dead.
- It's no excuse.

Belhomme gave it to me
after you'd hanged yourself.

The man's "only memory of love".

- He was about to die.
- That's no excuse.

See?
You're repeating my words.

Then you admit it!

Don't try to confuse me
by acting more intelligent.

Look where intelligence gets you!

I can see you in his arms.

How? You never did. Not like
I saw you with Mme de Coigny!

- She's dead.
- So is he.

- You're dishonest!
- As are you!

Stop walking up and down
like a schoolteacher.

I feel like I've made
a schoolgirl error.

The error is done.

Gaston, make a great effort
with yourself.

We are no longer children.

I need to know
whether you still want me.

Look at me.

I'm looking.

First, that letter is not all.

I was raped by a coach driver
who threatened to turn me in.

I couldn't stop it
because my desire to live

was crying out in me.

- What are you saying?
- That's not all.

I had another lover
aside from the man at Belhomme's.

He is dead too.

That's my only excuse.

So that makes three.

You know everything.

You whore...

You filthy little whore!

There.

You did what you had to do
and said what you had to say.

Now listen to me.

I also came to say
that Georges is dead

and that I could be your wife
and forever faithful.

Try to understand
that not everything was my fault.

Young ladies usually
have quieter lives, at home.

I came to tell you everything
because I love you.

I've been given back
the château de Bièvre.

You'll be on leave
by the end of the month.

It's now the 15th.

If you haven't come for me
by the 30th,

don't ever try to see me again.

- Did anyone come?
- Yes, Madam.

A man? A woman?

Neither. The new priest.

Oh, right.

We haven't seen any for so long,

I thought Madam would be pleased.

Did you enjoy your ride?

Yes.

I galloped enough
to break my neck.

I'd be better off breaking it.

Forgive me, Charlotte.

You must think
I've soon forgotten Georges.

But I love him.

I know.

I love him and it's the 30th.

He might be a day late.

No... not him.

Oh, don't go to your attic again,
it's full of dust.

My darling!

O Lord.

All right, so I am unworthy.

But let it be him.

I swear I'll hang a cross for You.

What brings you to my attic,
M. de Salanches?

Another nap, no doubt.

Thus ends this story,
in the most moral way possible.

Indeed it seems that
God the Father Himself

in His crookedly hung frame

is smiling on the reunited lovers.