Original subtitles

In 1124, Godefroy de Montmirail and his valet Jacquouille

swallowed a magic potion, transporting them to the 20th century.

The Visitors

There, they drank a new potion to go home, but another error occurred,

landing them in 1793, in the French Revolution.

Arrested by Antoine Jacquouillete, evil Public Accuser,

cruel revolutionary and Jacquouille's descendent,

our heros await judgement in jail.

The Visitors II The Corridors of Time

MONTMIRAIL CASTLE 1124

Jacquouille, you dillydallyasse!

Here I cometh, Sire! Here I cometh!

Jacquouille!

Hurry up!

Come, Aymeric. Get astride!

I runneth as fast as I can! Wait for me!

Dismount or die.

Scoundrel, make way or you'll be hanged.

I've been summoned by my master, Louis VI the Fat!

Toil, never recoil!

Here I cometh, Sire. I protect your rear.

Where's my axe? Where is it?

This axe just won't budge!

Take this, swine!

- Idiot! - Sorry, I fucked uppeth!

Watch out, Lord Aymeric!

What?

I dreamt Godefroy the Hardy came back.

We got attacked, a nightmare.

The nightmare is that his potion made him vanish.

What do we tell the King?

Aymeric de Tourbes, where is your lord?

We're at war and all of my barons are present.

Raul, Duke of Aquitaine, Baudoin the Sloth.

Only Montmirail is missing.

- And I am very vexed. - He is sick.

He'll come later.

- Lies! - Speak softly.

Don't disturb the eternal sleep of Pepin

and his beloved, Big-footed Bertha.

- Speak, Raul. - Odd rumors abound in Montmirail's county.

Godefroy missed Christmas.

People claim he vanished after practicing witchcraft.

He's a heretic!

- Let God judge this calumny! - Enough.

I won't lose my knights in futile combat.

Tell Godefroy

to meet me before the next moon.

If he doesn't obey,

his county, titles and belongings

will be split among my vassals.

And his castle will be razed.

Open, Eusaebius.

Wizard of woe!

Come, Aymeric.

Eusaebius?

Damnation! The wizard's dead! They're forever lost.

I've been waiting, knights.

I'm the child of Eusaebius, dead before you.

Where are Godefroy and Jacquouille?

I'll roast your guts if you don't bring them back now!

Your lord is trapped in the future, in the year of the Lord 1793.

He and his valet were both arrest'd,

arriving from the 20th century, pockets bulging with futuristic baubles.

They await their sentence: that is, their death.

Robespierre has seized control.

They call him the Incorruptible.

He runs everything with his Committee of Public Safety.

I am Terror incarnate!

Quiet! Let Saint-Just speak.

We don't judge! We kill!

Even if by miracle the Hardy escapes the revolutionaries,

his hardships are hardly over.

Holy crapper, it stinketh here! I fear they'll harm us.

His body and that of his valet Jacquouille

age ten years a week

for they are stuck in the Corridors of Time.

What's wrong? I feel pain all over.

My knee is disjointed like at the Battle of Montlhery.

If they stay,

their agony will be awful.

You look like death warmed over.

It's gruesome.

My toothlette.

It broke.

ISSOUDUN FARMING ACADEMY NOW A PEOPLE'S COURT

Bring them in for questioning.

Citizens!

Verdier accuses you of being public enemies!

I'll slay him.

Exhibit number one.

An English book,

implying you spy for England!

Exhibit number two: a mask!

With a nose guard and a coat of mail.

Spanish thug!

- Who is the serf? - A munitions expert.

- He bore the bundle of objects! - Indeed!

In his pockets, we found spectacles

with mirrored glass to protect the eyes...

from this diabolical apparatus.

A strange bottle that comes from England because it says "Spray."

Why did you steal that?

Now they think you're Englois. Imbecile!

Englois, me? How repulsive!

The bottle is filled with flammable gas, very dangerous.

This weapon was crafted by an English criminal.

Because his name is English. Franck Provost.

It's hairspray.

A gift for Lady Ginette. For a hair helmet.

A flint stone!

Very handy to light a wick.

A quill. How strange.

Inside it is ink.

And it makes music too!

We are the champion...

Silence! You risk immediate execution!

If you have anything to say, say it fast.

They don't understand.

Speak English, citizen?

We are not Englois, nor are we spies!

I deny you the right to judge!

- I'm a Frenchie! Jacquouille! - I don't get it.

- Your name is Frenchie or Jacques Couille? - Jacquouille!

- Jacquouille? - Yes.

- A relative of Jacquouillete? - It's his sonny.

- Tell them, idiot. - It's truthy!

My sonny arrest'd us.

- What's a "sonny"? - Careful!

He could be a cousin. But far dirtier.

How vile, that oozing pimple under his nose.

Repulsive indeed.

- Filthy beast! - What a relief.

Is the Public Accuser back in Issoudun?

- He's supping with someone. - Supping? With whom?

His girlfriend Charlotte Robespierre.

Send for him. On the double.

- Charlotte Robespierre. - Fraternal salutations.

Where's Jacquouillete?

It is wiser during the Revolution to let the Accuser rest.

I came instead.

We want to know the connection

between the Accuser Jacquouillete and this criminal.

He claims they're family, but he's obviously an English spy.

Jacquouille was born in Montmirail's moats.

Son of Ansleme, manure man.

And of Gertie Big-bum.

Commissioner, he speaks in local dialect.

- You're mistaken. - We understand nothing.

Leave Paris more often, Verdier.

Citizen peasant, your name is Jacques Couille.

Are you related to Jacquouillete the Accuser?

- My sonny! - It's clear.

What's clear?

This man is Ignace Jacquouillete, uncle of Antoine-Claude Jacquouillete!

- Antoine-Claude... - Quiet!

He was vilely sent to the royal galleys

for having stolen some wood logs.

He's a hero of the Revolution.

If the dwarf is a hero, who's he?

Well... it's obvious. They were shackle mates.

Another wronged man in the galleys with Uncle Ignace, right?

Indeed, in the galleys.

With Ignace. We're galley slaves.

They had a panoply of products to commit crimes.

Before hanging them, I suggest you continue your investigation,

- Citizen Commissioner. - I take your advice, citizen.

Yes, it's preferable.

- Evening, citizens. - Nightie, Charlotte!

Nightie-night, Charlotte!

What do we do, Commissioner?

Death sentence. Tomorrow's cart.

Spies to the gallows!

- Antoine-Claude, Ignace is alive. - Who?

- Ignace Jacques Couille. - My uncle?

- Verdier arrested him. - How can it be?

He died in the galleys.

He managed to escape helped by a shackle mate, a giant.

The dwarf could never have made it alone.

- He's tiny like you. - I'm average.

Come now! Your whole family is teeny-tiny.

Why are you being hurtful?

He's exactly your size, inch by inch.

That doesn't make him my uncle. How silly.

Uncle Ignace is dead!

Be smart for once. His release can help you.

- Why? - Robespierre needs symbols.

Ignace is the perfect victim.

- Great for the part. - Why?

He's ugly as sin.

Suffering deformed him.

- The Committee will love him. - In two days.

- Not tomorrow? - I'll confiscate the Montmirail castle

and evict that pompous family which exploited mine.

They'll be in the slums. And I'll relish it, believe me.

How I've longed for you...

ISSOUDUN FARMING ACADEMY DAWN

THE BASEMENTS ARE USED AS PRISONS

IN THE COURTYARD... CONSTANT EXECUTIONS

- Just like a chicken! - Death to aristocrats!

- Sire, what are "aristocrats"? - I'm one, coward.

- So I'm not an aristocrat? - Certainly not.

Don't look at the horror. The sound is enough.

- Marquis Lorenzo Baldini. - I'm no aristocrat!

- I shouldn't even be here. - Like us all.

Count of Montmirail, Malfete and Papincourt.

Montmirail? A relative of late Count Philippe!

- Brother? Cousin? - Indeed.

- A cousin. But a very distant one. - Let's return to the Car Age, Sire!

- Philippe's cousin! - It reeks of death here!

You know Victoire-Églantine, his lovely daughter?

I wooed her in better times.

We've lost touch since.

A wild beauty waiting to be tamed.

I hear she's shapely now.

Off limits?

- Indeed. - I understand.

Discretion.

Not a word! We mustn't endanger family.

But it's amusing, in a way, to share misfortunes.

In the old days, my father-in-law carried Louis XV's candelabra

when the King shat on his public toilet.

- Where's the honor in a public poop? - Quiet, peon. It's royal poopasse.

Forgive me. If poopasse is royal...

"Sire," "peon"... How provocative!

Daring, nowadays.

But with what awaits us, we can speak our minds.

Good idea! I'll do it too!

Fuck those assholes on the Public Safety Committee,

including Robespierre and Danton, who butt-fuck nonstop!

Butt-fuck nonstop!

- Keep quiet! Do you want us dead? - Come now, Duchess!

Are we here to picnic?

Noblemen don't illuminate the King during his poopasse.

- That is a servant's job. - What bad breath!

Yes, well...

My friend, sorry to contradict you,

but...

My God. But it's a privilege.

Louis XIV glamorized the Royal Toilet by giving nobles the job.

Dabbing the royal ass proves our love and trust.

Wiping a stinky butt is pathetic! A stinky ass is a stinky ass.

It's no honor for a knight. How degrading!

My God.

The Duke at the gallows.

He remains so dignified.

I hope when it's our turn we'll be as brave as him.

My God!

- Damn, they chopped off his noggin! - Blood all over!

The head bounced properly. It was a clean death.

Excuse me? My father-in-law just got beheaded at 83

- and it was a clean death? - He didn't suffer.

Back in my days, a clumsy axe whack could cause great pain.

The machine is clever.

We'd have skinned him alive, quartered him and fed him to the pigs.

He was lucky. He died without even saying oops.

Without saying "oops"? How unseemly.

Away with you. We're of different minds.

- Fare thee well! - Fare thee well!

Quiet, noble swine!

Today at ten o'clock, the King's head rolled in the dirt!

The King is dead! No more tyranny! Hip, hip, hooray!

Silence! Let us pray!

The King is dead.

Long live his son, the Dauphin!

Let us pray.

Our Father, who art in heaven...

- Hallowed be thy name. - Always.

- Thy kingdom come. - Always.

- Thy will be done on earth as... - Stop with your laments!

It's a day of joy!

Get up!

It is in heaven.

You two, come and give me a hand!

And no more violin! Long live the Revolution!

Everyone, get up! Stand up, rich swine!

Take that, peasant!

Take their arms. Follow me.

Here I cometh, Sire!

Tally-ho, Sire, tally-ho!

Tally-ho!

Careful, Sire, Ass-wipe is tailing you!

- I'm on your side! - Go away, you annoy me.

I'm profiting from your bull-like strength to flee.

Bull!

- That's all. - Bull!

Hurry up!

Faster!

Where is Stepmother?

MONTMIRAIL CASTLE, NEAR ISSOUDUN

- You should have left at dawn! - We're not ready, Gonzague.

I'm willing to flee, but not butt-naked.

Marie-Adélaïde, if they find me, I'm dead.

I should be in Paris. Jacquouillete is coming!

We should shoot the swine between the eyes!

Victoire-Églantine, we'd be beheaded.

Madam, I managed to bribe someone for safe-conducts to Austria.

Our cousins await us. Persuade my sister.

Victoire-Églantine, you've kept us waiting.

Finish packing!

Don't talk to me like a child.

Stop ordering me around!

- If your father heard... - He's dead, so shut up!

Watch your tone, hussy!

I gave your late father the flower of my youth!

Don't preach to my sister. We must go.

On the double! Save your saliva to thank me for Austria!

Fear makes you arrogant, Gonzague.

Seven of us in a tiny hunting lodge. Thanks a lot!

We're running instead of using our Paris home.

Commoners inform on noblemen. We're beheaded for no reason!

Forget Paris!

Since Father died, it's my home, not yours.

- I'm the eldest. - What?

As a deputy, you voted to abolish birthright.

Meaning that my two children are Montmirail heirs just like you three.

You fear for your political career.

Come now, don't be unfair with your brother.

Thank you. I respect you like my late mother.

I'll save you with my siblings.

Remember loyal Elise. I love you dearly.

Is all that necessary?

If Elise doesn't read to me, I can't sleep.

Here.

The safe-conducts.

- Signed by citizen Collot. - The word citizen!

- It makes me nauseous. - So we're "wine merchants" now?

- How fitting! - You prefer "fleeing nobles"?

- Honorine is coming? - Who'll make your quail and fava pie?

- And orange biscuits? - Germans eat only cabbage.

- That too? - Yes!

A gift from our Queen!

I must listen to music during dinner.

We can't leave this instrument to that pig Jacquouillete! I'd rather die!

- A weapon? - To kill the revolutionaries who stop us!

We want to fight too!

It's very dangerous. They're not toys.

Yes they are!

Stop shouting. You're hurting my ears!

- Robert, find them each a pistol. - You all drive me mad.

- Thank you, Hercule. To Paris! - Yes, sir.

Lord, why did you lead us astray here? Explain your will to me.

- Witchcraft, Sire. We're fucked! - Mind your tongue!

The Lord is testing us. We must obey.

We must enthrone the Dauphin. Such is our fate.

Hoshana!

Hoshana... Speak for yourself.

- What was that? - Hoshana.

Finally!

- It's me. - What now, Ass-wipe?

Issoudun is teeming with crazed revolutionaries.

It's best I come with you. Where to?

To Montmirail to gather our soldiery.

Soldiery?

Not to be a party-poop,

but finding people on our side won't be easy.

We'll need courage for our God-given mission.

Hoshana!

- What mission? - To put the King's son on the throne.

Thrilling, right?

He's jailed in Paris at the Temple Prison.

So?

Wonderful. You amaze me.

But you'll manage better without me.

Aristocrats have very little chance of surviving.

So imagine three of us!

Find them! Kill them on sight!

Be merciless!

Find them!

Get the dogs!

Kill them!

They're still here! I'll tag along.

Till we reach Montmirail.

- A horsey! - For me.

It's painful, but we must go now.

Sorry, Stepmother, but that's no wig for a wine merchant.

- They'll spot us and turn us in. - But my hood will hide it.

- It's too high for the coach! - It's my travel wig. Watch this.

I can deflate it.

See? Or else...

See?

Madame, I left the jewelry in your bedroom.

Idiot! Go and get it!

To think it's all we can trade with.

Robert, I'd never sell my jewelry.

- How will we get by? - No idea.

- You'll have to work. - Work?

Yes.

- We can't work like the bourgeoisie! - I'll be back.

Elise, give me that!

You'll spill it all. I'll join you.

Mother's portrait.

Who are you? What do you want?

You have nothing to fear.

Lorenzo Baldini, Marquis de Portofino.

Son-in-law of the Duke de Cheneviette.

- Remember? - No.

Where is Count Montmirail?

My husband died of apoplexy after the Swiss Guards were massacred.

- The new Count? - My son-in-law.

He just left for Paris.

He changed his name to Malfète to appear less noble.

Drop your arms or die!

- Lorenzo? What are you doing? - Victoire-Églantine!

You recognize me. What an ordeal.

I was saved from the guillotine by your cousin, a true hero.

- What cousin? - Him.

Hubert de Montmirail, Malfète and Papincourt.

You're a Montmirail?

He's your cousin Hub. Clever thinking, Sire.

Quiet, peasant. He's my vassal.

- Impostor! We have no more cousins! - They come from afar.

They speak old French from another court.

You must be the Austrian cousin to whom Gonzague wrote!

I don't understand.

We were to meet at the frontier.

You preferred to come for us!

Indeed.

How brave of you!

And you? Who are you?

I am Jacquouille the Crass, dear damsel.

"Dear damsel." Prussian manners are outmoded but charming.

Excuse me, but I didn't quite get your name.

- Cousin Hub. - Hub?

Hub... Hubert.

You mean "Houberte" de Montmirail.

Cousin Houb! I see.

- Gonzague said your name was Kurt. - Yes.

- "Kurt-Houberte," fair maiden. - Now I understand.

Kurt and Houb are alike. Like Fritz, Smoutz, Frida.

Their local names.

Kurt-Houberte is a double name like Victoire-Églantine.

Your accent is surprisingly French!

Every European court speaks French.

Why such distrust? You speak French there!

Yes, we speak Frenchie.

We speak Frenchie, for fuck's sake!

Stop clowning around!

This shit makes you choke!

Robert's damned cigars!

Let's go, cousin Kurt-Houb.

To Paris! Whip it, coachman! We'll enthrone the Dauphin.

I wasn't paid for Paris.

The King is dead! Long live his son! 'Tis all I knoweth!

Finally someone brave! Count me in!

I'm proud to be a Montmirail. We'll take you to Paris with our carriage.

Don't even think of it. Your brother said to flee!

- He's a rotten ass! - Rotten ass! Gonzague is a rotten ass!

Quiet! Your lackey cannot insult my son-in-law!

You can't take these! Or else we won't accompany you.

Wine merchants are not terrorists. Put them in the cellar.

Madame, the gendarmes are coming!

Hurry, we have to flee!

- Whip it, weird one! - Obey, peasant!

- Sorry, Countess. - Do what it takes!

Children! Get in!

Smells like a foul swamp!

Every bump is a bum pain!

You're the one who reeks!

At the next stop, you better wash up.

- Or sit behind. - It's the horses that reek, not me.

- Horse butts! - Whatever you say...

Four-legged farters!

Search all over! Find them!

A Santo Domingo cigar. Worth at least five sols!

Filthy profiteers who starve the people!

Kurt-Houberte, you dress humbly for an Austrian nobleman!

Come now, Robert. He's just... the hunter type.

Hunter type or at least a stable hand.

True nobles don't wear knickers. Or women's stockings.

These horrid events at least bring us together again.

- Thank you. And how is your wife? - She died. You didn't know?

I'm a widower now.

- Guillotined? - No.

A cold, after a foot bath.

- Very drafty. - Which is why I never wash my feet.

What a shame. Sometimes we must do whatever it takes.

Especially in tight spaces.

Pretty woodies. Must make for good bear hunting.

- Bear hunter? - With a knife. Good for bleeding them

and eating their hearts still hot.

My God, raw heart. How repulsive.

Mommy, the Austrian's feet reek!

Marie-Thérèse, don't talk like that in public.

- But they do reek. - Open the window for some air.

Yes... fresh air...

I want some too.

It's true that odor-wise,

carriage travel can be awkward.

- Smells like fart. - Moldy cushions, maybe.

No, that reeketh of old rose. Gives me misgrain.

"Migraine," Kurt-Houberte, not "misgrain."

We all understood.

- You'd have a hard time speaking German. - No, I am linguistically inclined.

Goodbye. I love you. Mashed potatoes, please.

This is silly. He speaks French. Why speak Teutonic?

Marie-Thérèse is cold. Shut that.

Cold, my great-great-great granddaughterette?

There's no one. It's empty.

They were tipped off. I'm furious.

I wanted them to see the new owner.

Who do you mean?

- It's not for you. - Not at all. The new owner...

I meant the Revolution. It's the people.

I prefer, Antoine-Claude.

It's stunning here.

To think of my father's thatched shack near Dead Man's swamp.

- I'm off. - Where to?

I'm going to Paris on tonight's coach.

Come on, Lolotte. We didn't even spend the night.

Pity to have all these big beds and not to test them.

I'll persuade Marat to write an article on Uncle Ignace.

It would help me.

Antoine-Claude it's not for you, but for the triumph of Truth.

He'll become a revolutionary icon.

Uncle Ignace an icon, what a laugh.

Citizen, a prison mutiny. Your Uncle ran off with a giant.

- What? - You waited too long!

- I'll get them. Keep your plans. - Sure.

Remember dinner Tuesday with my brother and the Committee.

Please, Charlotte. Who could forget a dinner with Robespierre?

You're Austrian too?

Are you Austrian?

You don't answer. You're pretentious.

- Given your face, I don't know why. - Spare us his breath.

His accent isn't Austrian.

- We're from Lorrain. - Shut up, old biddy!

Jesus Christ!

You're right!

I never smelled anything like it.

Halt!

Too bad. I have no spare horses.

I can trade four mules.

We can't swap four nice horses for mules!

- I'll slice you, thief! - Just try, tramp.

- What was that, innkeeper? - Want some buckshot, fatso?

Enough.

Calm down, citizens. My error.

I forgot I had spare horses. I'm so dumb.

Glad to hear it.

Buckshot yourself.

If we dine, they'll see we're nobles.

- Show some sangfroid, Marquis. - Cousin Kurt, you look far too Austrian.

Stay in the coach. Your valet will bring you bread.

- It's enemy territory. - Don't worry, Junior.

Give me your coatlette.

That.

Give him a good price, Cuz.

Twenty-five sols. It's new.

Welcome to the Hunting Lodge, citizens. Make yourselves comfortable.

Kurt's valet looks like the groom who worked for your husband.

- What was his name? - Ignace Jacquouillet.

Impossible.

Philippe sent him to the galleys.

Twenty years for stealing a few logs.

High price.

Where are you coming from?

Be discreet if you wish, citizen.

Good victuals! I'm starving!

You'll pay me back the 25 sols for the coat?

- No money talk at dinner. - Too bad.

Boil your meats, innkeeper, to kill worms.

- No worms in my meat, citizen. - So roast them, my maid.

- "Citizen." - Yes, citizen.

These vile bourgeois folk. They smell like fleeing nobles.

- Honorine, serve us. - Yes, Countess.

- Honorine will get us in trouble. - It's hard for her.

Mighty tasty vino! Let's guzzle it!

Bring us three more pitchers, old peasant lady!

Stand, rascal. Why are you here? Go eat in the chariot.

- I'll toss you my leftovers. - I hate dining with staff!

The horses can eat with them!

Why doesn't she eat in the chariot?

She's serving. With your dirty fingers, you can't help.

Unfair! She's a peasant too!

I should be with Lady Ginette in the Cadillac Days.

Leave or I'll cut off your ears!

And gather some dung!

- Dung? What for? - A nice fire at night. It warms you up.

- That explains it. - What?

Why Austrians smell like shit.

We're dining.

- What are you doing? - For a fire!

It'll save me from cleaning up.

No forks in Austria?

- Honorine, water. I'm thirsty. - Yes, Count...

I keep forgetting, citizen Countess.

Shut up! Stop talking!

- What is it? - Nettle soup.

It's absolutely repulsive.

- What's in it? Have any cream? - Donkey milk.

I said a runny omelet. This is like wood.

Never happy!

The wigged bitch is a countess.

We'll turn them in. I'll go to the gendarmes.

We'll get a reward.

It's pike stew without pike. Just stew.

It's tastifull and no fish bones.

Yes, because there's no fish.

- He eats with his mouth open. - He's Austrian.

Don't speak unless spoken to.

The horses are harnessed. Some dung for your fire.

Catch and enjoy!

He threw shit all over.

Keep your dung!

Outside, piglet, with your basket and food!

It's too cold.

- Go! - I will not leave.

- Listen to me, dammit! - It stinks!

Take that... and that.

All this dung will cost you.

- I want two more sols to clean up. - What? Robbery!

Haven't you cheated us enough?

We're leaving. And we won't pay.

You deserve nothing. Worst meal of my life!

Everything was vile.

A festival of vile!

Only Kurt enjoyed it. He warms up with shit.

Kurt? He's an Austrian!

Hands up!

Take this, rogue!

Take this, weakling!

Help! They squashed my Gaspard.

Hurry up!

PARIS, CORDELIERS STREET

Gonzague, stop it!

Thank you, Hercule.

I hear your speech was magnificent.

- I said to give the peasants land. - I'm proud of you.

I'm not worried, but when does Collot come back?

Tomorrow? Who cares?

Let's celebrate your speech.

Oh my God.

Halt!

In the name of the Republic!

Coachman, a lot of you up there.

No more room inside.

Why are you staring at me? You look aggressive.

Not aggressive at all, handsome.

The ride exhausted him.

I see.

- I'll slice the boar's neck! - Shut up, fool!

- What was that? - Nothing... He's nightmaring.

- Boar's head! - Quiet! That's enough!

Your safe-conducts.

Please.

- Wine merchants. - Yes.

- From Issoudun? - Yes.

Any vineyards there?

Yes, indeed. There are vineyards.

It's hard to walk around, there are so many.

We're up to our necks in vines.

And who's the sinister-looking one?

Him? Our lumberjack.

- He makes our casks. - Why bring him along?

We like his company. Travel is dangerous.

As you know. Right, citizen?

We're seeing Deputy Malfète.

- Know him? - Not at all.

Anyone know Malfète?

Nope. I know a Brunelin, guillotined yesterday.

- Any link? - No. Only deputy I know.

And baby doll? A wine merchant too?

I travel with my children.

Listen, powder puff... You look fancy for a merchant.

- Very high wig. - Sergeant.

The safe-conduct is signed Collot d'Herbois.

Head of the Convention? You know Collot d'Herbois?

- My brother's best friend. - Let them through!

Long live the Revolution!

Move!

Long live the Revolution!

Long live the vino, meathead!

I'll get you yet!

Good job, Robert. Such sangfroid!

- We made it in. - I don't know if that's good news.

Why, scaredy-cat?

The problem isn't entering, but leaving.

HOTEL MONTMIRAIL 1742

- You can't stay here. - Kurt needs a guide!

We can't stop near the guards.

Come back. On the double!

Why is he throwing our baggage?

- Good riddance! I'm abandoning you! - I'll hack you in two!

- You were paid to go to Vienna. - You chose Paris, so stay!

Go or I'll turn you in! Help!

The fucking soldiery, Sire!

The madman's dropping all our trunks!

Don't worry. We're staying with Deputy Malfète.

Go inside and keep quiet.

Honest people are asleep.

I'll ask our caretaker Mariette for help.

Come on, move it, peasant!

"Peasant"? What the hell?

What's that din?

- Who are you? - And you? What's this ruckus?

Where is our Mariette?

She was beheaded for shouting: "Long live the Queen!"

- My God. - There's no more God, citizen.

So you're our new caretaker?

I clean the stairs and keep my eyes open.

- We're the owners. - I doubt that.

The owner lives on the top floor and rents out the rest.

On the second floor, Charlotte Robespierre,

on the first, Marat, the famous journalist.

Scum who calls for nobles to be beheaded.

What is it?

Be nice and carry up our trunks. We'd appreciate it, good lady.

- Mind your tone, big mama! - "Big mama"?

We don't slave away anymore. We're equals now.

Hey, Philibert!

I got a snooty noblewoman!

She looks like Lady Ginette.

- Lady Ginette! - Who's the skunk?

Crass, leave us be! It's hard enough.

Your name is Crass?

Too old for Ginette.

Too what? Philibert!

Citizen Crass insulted me!

What? Who's Crass?

My God, how awful! What a face!

What's awful?

You, honey. Because you're black. They're racists!

- Racists go to the guillotine. - This is ridiculous.

- I appreciate foreigners. I swear I do. - Foreigner?

I'm French, a National Guard sergeant.

- Excellent. Congratulations, Sergeant! - A Moor, Sire! A Moor in our midst!

- Saying "Sire" here is risky. - Swallow thy fear.

A misunderstanding, citizens.

We're just burdened and would like your help to carry our trunks upstairs.

For money, of course.

Speaking with civility changes matters entirely.

- How much? - I thought two sols would suffice.

- Five. - No! We'll do it ourselves.

- Robert, it's too heavy for us! - For us it's light?

- Shove them up your ass! - Up your ass, nobles!

Show respect or I'll whip you!

- Down with Moors! - What? Moors!

It's not the Crusades, idiot! Apologize.

Being insulted by a white man named Crass is too much.

- Screw you! Hang the aristocrats! - Apologize or I shoot!

Plague upon my ass, I was hit!

I was hit!

What the hell? Marat can't bathe in peace!

It's the Malfètes!

Do as you please, but in silence!

- I'm writing. - And I'm in pain!

Marat and his wife Simone are angry now.

We'll stop bothering Marat.

I'll help with the trunks for ten sols.

- You doubled the price! - Kill him, Sire.

Scandalous!

Take it or leave it, big mama!

Big mama.

- What a horrible statue! So bombastic! - Bombastic? It's Marat writing.

It's by Lecœur. The Convention adores him.

Stop making noise!

Marat's skin disease makes him irritable.

- He takes sulfur baths. - Whence the rotten eggs!

- We say quiet and you play music. - Sorry, we keep hitting the keys.

The troubadour's box is heavy!

People play harpsichord while patriots suffer. Scandalous!

Without music and art, man is an animal.

Hurry, peasant.

What's that damned racket?

Nothing, just a bag that fell.

- I'm fed up! - It won't happen again.

They destroyed Marat!

What are the shouts? An arrest?

No, your family showed up. Bunch of pains!

- I am very thirsty! - Who is he?

- Unbroken. - Cousin Kurt, your cousin.

Why is he here? It was at the frontier!

- I'm hurt. I need a wet rag. - Is Kurt a Prussian name?

Not at all. He's French.

He's Alsatian. The Alsatian branch of the Malfètes.

- Is Alsace in France? - Yes...

- Who pays my ten sols? - Ask the Deputy.

- What? - And five more for the statue.

I have to repair our magnificent statue of Marat,

destroyed by your clan.

Tell me... is the citizen actress here?

We saw you sneak in.

- Collot can't hold onto her! - What do you mean?

Yeah... Mum's the word.

- But you can trust us. - Thanks and goodnight.

Tomorrow, when I get my mail. Pleasant fraternal dreams.

Don't forget or no more trust!

I just broke my back! I deserve compensation!

Philibert, doesn't citizen Crass look familiar?

He never came here before.

Heavy as hell.

- The Moor fell. - Philibert!

Oh, no! Enough already! Can't you keep quiet?

Sorry, citizen. Philibert fell in the stairs.

No surprise! They're worm-eaten!

What is this ruckus?

- Who broke it? - Citizen Crass. Want him arrested?

Forget it! Throw that crap away! It was so bombastic!

Lecœur has no talent!

- You're fine, little wimp! - It's awful. Deep wound?

- It's barely pink. - You didn't get hit! It's throbbing!

It's ice cold!

You put us in danger!

The caretakers are renowned informers.

Excuse me.

- Gorgeous friend. - Where can the children sleep?

My office. The bedroom is taken.

- Sure is! Who is she? - A friend.

Why are you in the attic?

Maids once lived here.

I rented the rest to the Convention.

To share with the Republic what we selfishly held onto for ages.

So you rented to Miss Robespierre and her vile Jacquouillete?

I had no choice.

- It's called an arrangement. - And you get rent money too.

I found two big cutlasses and a fine whizzing blade.

- What are you doing with those? - Getting the Dauphin from jail.

You're mad!

Thanks, sweet damsel.

My porcelain!

Caveman squashed my porcelain figurines! It smells like rot.

Come on, help me.

It was unique. He's an idiot!

Cousin's servant, a boor. And the Crass's spitting image.

- Whose? - I'm not an ass!

I'm Jacquouille the Crass.

Pinch me, I'm dreaming.

Cousin, why did you come here instead? To harm me?

- We were arrested. - We were all put in jail.

It's Ass-Wipe.

The Duke de Cheneviette's son-in-law. A pleasure, Count.

No, citizen deputy Malfète. No counts here.

- No titles. - So I'll take your title, brother!

I'm the Count now, dear Lorenzo.

Goodnight. Enjoy your family.

I won't impose.

I loved hearing your speech face to face.

- Or head to tail. - My God... she's naked.

Flore.

Meet Flore d'Angelas, famous stage star.

No names. Don't embarrass us all.

I'm off. Citizens, it was a pleasure.

Long live the Revolution!

Long live the Revolution and her beauteous bum!

- Don't go home so late! - What should I do?

Sleep with your brothers?

Flore, I'll get rid of those ballbreakers.

- Flore, I adore you! - Me too.

Enough of this noise, Malfète! I can't write.

- Sorry, Marat. I feel bad. - Not as bad as me.

Nice ass. She's delicious.

- Goodnight, citizen. - See you soon.

I think I know her.

She's not Collot's mistress? She is!

Bad actress, but a demagogue. Her nudity steals the show.

You're wrong. It's not her.

Yes, because Collot is jealous.

Marat!

Who are you talking to? Come back in! You'll catch a fluxion!

Yes, but...

Her ass is reason to revolt!

- Robert! - It's today's fashion.

- Only if the woman is shapely! - Nothing smarter to say?

But she's an actress!

- It would never apply to you! - Why?

- My bosom isn't worth it? - On the contrary!

Your bosom deserves more freedom!

Let it loose!

Thanks. You ruined my evening.

Quiet, Gonzague. You give me no pride.

- You reek of cowardice. - He reeks!

You're one to talk!

He reeketh. He's a coward. He shits his pants.

- Gonzague the Gutless! - Enough!

Remember you're just a servant!

You Austrians are a pain in the ass!

I'm not a reactionary.

You bore me.

I'm a progressive.

Today's world is science.

Equality among men.

Among men and women. Feel concerned, Victoire-Églantine?

You too, toady, are entitled to freedom. Even if you can't understand.

The future is in France, not Austria,

in moldy castles full of vengeful exiles.

Teutonic life will be a bore.

I'm no coward.

Revolution is the future, even for my family.

I beg to differ, Gonzague the Coward.

No future in cities. Lost souls lose their land.

Make your estate grow with peasants who serve and love you.

Like Jacquouille.

Don't you love me, Crass One?

Yes, Sire, at times.

- What? - Always, Sire!

Gonzague, it has nothing to do with Austria.

You're gloomy. Your father said so. "Gloomy boy."

I'm going to bed. I'll take the master suite.

Élise, come tuck me in.

And then make my herbal tea.

You're a coward and I'm a scaredy-cat.

Jacquouille, maketh my bed in the corridor.

I'll rest for tomorrow's battle. Sleep in the kitchen, peasant.

Robert?

The Austrian's lackey looks like Ignace, Father's whipping boy.

It's him.

They're not lookalikes. It's him.

It's Ignace Jacques Couille.

He came back to bother us.

Ignace, that thief...

I'm sure. A face like that is a rarity.

Wait, I want to make sure.

Tell me, cousin Kurt,

why is Ignace, our old groom, working for you?

- Who? - Ignace.

How did you get him?

He came from the galley.

I took him in. Out of humanity.

- Straight to Austria? - Indeed.

- Amazing. - Indestructible.

Like cockroaches. They'll crawl miles just to piss us off!

To piss us off.

He tried to kill me!

- What happened? - Crass tried to kill the Countess.

It's not my fault! It was the snoring! The snoring!

Bed thee down on that mat!

Not here, it's cold!

- Enough. - Yes, outside!

- Yes, enough! - Out with the Crass!

What is that bastard up to?

Peeing?

Fear not...

I'm Kurt-Houb's servant.

This is my yard, not a urinal.

- This is Paris. Pee in the street! - I had to relieve myself.

You can't use your boss' latrine?

There are no more servants and masters.

Don't let them fool you. Turn them in.

I'd impound their asses! I'd take it all.

That would show them!

We'll take everything. That'll show those Montmirails!

It's a relief to be able to speak freely.

By the way, I've seen your face before.

In another era, when you were younger.

- Thanks. - You're still buxom. I could poke you.

- Who's poking who? - What's got into you, baby?

Be nice and go to your attic, midget!

Or I'll give you a bowl cut.

You don't scare me, Moor. I'll skin you alive!

Don't kill each other. We're all citizens here.

Prune! I'm glad you're not asleep.

Marat can't sleep. He wants a bath.

- Can you bring him hot water? - Of course.

Anything for Marat. We love you so.

Come with me. You'll give me a hand.

Do you have any chocolate pie left?

Just one slice, for Philibert's breakfast.

But I'll give it to you.

- Philibert can diet a bit. - How kind.

Make it fast. He's hungry.

- Goodnight, citizen. - Goodnight... fat bitch.

Fat bitch.

Do me a little favor. Take this up.

Put it next to the bathtub.

Is it ready?

Where were you? I won't lug these buckets alone!

You're getting it all over the place!

- There will be nothing left! - It's very heavy, Moor!

You boiled my foot! Goddammit!

Shithead!

Simone, it's ice cold. I'll die!

- It's coming! - Here it cometh!

Here it cometh!

Here come the jugs!

Nice hot water!

Idiot!

It's burning! You boiled me like a shrimp!

Knucklehead! You must pour carefully.

Get some cold water.

- Sorry, Marat. He's a beginner. - It's no excuse.

- You can forget your tip. - As usual.

Don't linger like a dummy.

Go help him. You hear? Go help him!

Simone! They gave me black soap to eat!

Prune! Thanks for the soap pie! We'll remember!

- Hello, citizen Robespierre. - Hello, Prune. Philibert.

- Nice trip? - Exhausting.

Deputy Malfète's family arrived last night.

They made such a mess!

The half-wit who works for them broke Philibert's back.

Ask for compensation. Ointments are costly.

- Sure. - We are so just, my poor Charlotte.

- Sure. - Can I help with your bag?

To each his load. It's a privilege to have a full bag.

The Moors are attacking! Sound the alarm!

The soldiers are looking for you!

Charlotte, I am fearful.

Fear not. I'll help.

- Hungry, Uncle Ignace? - My belly gurgles.

Follow me.

Darn!

I just have worm-infested cheese. It's inedible.

I may have apples.

No! Ignace, don't eat that!

This cheesy is yummy!

You must be starving to eat that monstrosity.

Nice meaty worms!

- Why are you at my home? - It belongs to Montmirail.

- Malfète? - We'll take it all. That'll show them!

You're right.

Let the Republic seek revenge, not you.

It's done. Your nephew confiscated their castle.

- Confiscated it? - Yes.

Now it's the people's: yours, mine, everyone's.

- Long live the Republic. - Hoshana! Long live the Republic.

Let's get you presentable for Marat.

They'll adore you before you can say oops!

Nay! I won't say oops. It's too painful.

Why painful? Why won't you say oops?

- I don't want to die. - You won't die.

No one will force you to say oops.

- No oops! - Follow me.

Here.

Here's a pitcher.

Use this.

A comb for your hair.

A birthday present from my brother. Careful.

I'll give you Jacquouillete's best suit.

That's for your face!

If you're thirsty, I have almond syrup.

Delicious siroppe! Hoshana, sweet Charlotte, hoshana!

The world's changed. No one says hoshana.

We say "Hooray." It's more secular.

- Hooray is more secular! - That's right.

- Hooray is more secular. - Hooray is more secular!

- Lady Charlotte. - Yes?

No running water in the tub?

- Running water? - Hot water, cold water, faucets...

No radiators to warm the towels?

No showerhead?

No lightbulbs, night, day, day, night?

There's nothing! It sucks!

This bathroom isn't modern. It stinks!

Why does it stink?

It's very modern. A replica of the King of England's.

You're snobby for a prisoner! Don't go overboard!

Here's the commode, if you need it.

There's nothing more modern. Like this basin.

I'm sure you've never seen this.

I knoweth it well. We washed in it.

- What? You washed in the toilet? - The hands and face.

Then we drank the water, nice and cold!

How repulsive!

Forced to drink from the toilet! Jailors are monsters!

I thought it over. You're a limp dick!

- How lovely to be woken to a compliment. - I cannot save the Dauphin alone.

So I'll go to my castle and see to my peasants.

- When? - Once I see a wizard.

No wizard here?

Why not a fortune teller?

Revolutionaries hate superstitions. You want to die?

Find a wizard or I stay!

I have a big debate at the assembly today. I must be in shape.

I need to work.

Give me your prison clothes. I'll have them cleaned.

Here.

Hooray is more secular!

No need to shout it.

I see that you understand.

I had no idea this odor existed.

How shameful to treat men like that!

I'll put your boots on the landing.

No air in here. It can infect our lungs.

- Watching me sleep? - Yes.

No Merlin here, but there's a madwoman.

- She calls herself Mother of God. - Mother of God?

Does she have magic powers?

She claims she can see the future. Robespierre consults her.

Take me to her on the double!

But I don't even know her address.

- Where is Jacquouille the Crass? - Citizen!

- Keep your dog inside! - What? I don't have a dog.

It defecated on the landing.

The smell is unbearable!

- Who'll clean up? - Who's screaming?

The Malfète's dog shits all over.

- Yes, it smells like dead donkey. - Are they your lackey's boots?

He's down there. Come.

What's on your hair? It's all white!

Why did you use up Antoine-Claude's powder?

For the itching.

Head lice.

Your jail mates. We'll use the comb.

His sister is very smart. Let me manipulate her.

She finds me attractive.

I'll be right back.

- Fraternal salutations. - What is it, citizen?

I know you. Ignace's companion!

- How so? - Come now,

- you know Ignace Jacques Couille. - My father disputed with him. Not me.

- You're bound by the consequences. - That's debatable.

Why was Ignace on the landing?

- In the cold, like a dog! - He tried to kill Stepmother.

- Are you for murder? - No.

But I am for just revenge!

He wanted compensation for his misfortune!

- Will you file a complaint? - No.

Hooray is more secular!

How handsome you are, Ignace. Look at him.

Nice fit, citizen Houb?

You look ridiculous, ball of grease.

You'll be the local laughingstock when we go back!

I won't go back! It stinks there!

There's no need to fight.

The galleys are over.

You can be proud. They're traumatized.

Hooray is more secular!

Enough, Uncle Ignace. It's annoying.

Can you leave us?

- Why? - We don't need you!

Good going! You were totally hoodwinked!

Your Austrian cousin is just a galley slave.

Good God, galley slaves?

- I was so naive. - They could have harmed the children!

I forgot about the children!

- Close call. - I told you they look like gypsies!

- Your generosity got us stuck here! - Stop quarreling.

There is perhaps... a solution. Elise.

Bring this letter to the ambassador of the Netherlands.

Give it personally to Duke MacManus.

- In case of danger, swallow it. - Swallow it?

Best way to get rid of it.

- With the wax seal? - Yes, with the wax seal.

- Marquis, is that my suit? - Yes, it is.

- I had no time to ask. - Too bad.

I had to change my shirt and underwear.

You have clothes galore, cheapskate!

- That's my Florentine silk suit. - Yes, I had to trim it with a sword.

With a sword.

He sliced up an expensive suit.

If you like, I'll put back on my old underwear.

And so these two martyrs ended up in my home.

It would make a good article.

True. I'll publish it tomorrow.

Thanks for telling me about these men.

"The Republic must awaken

to pay homage...

vibrant homage,

to these poor martyrs."

- How's that, citizens? - We'll take everything! That'll show them!

Excellent! Pertinent and pithy. I'll use it. It will work well.

Hooray is more secular!

- Excuse me? - Hooray is more secular!

They talk gibberish. The galleys traumatized them.

I see. They speak a little exuberantly, like lost children.

You're making a strange face.

You can express yourself freely.

Your opinion matters. Speak.

You reek of death. Your number's up. Get help, if you still can.

Your pimples ooze pus. Death fast approaches.

- What was that? - We'll leave you.

- Let's go. - They ooze.

He's busy. Let's not nag him.

What were they saying? I didn't understand.

Was it about me?

- Why say he's sick? - Because he's very sick!

No need to be so frank! You'll get in trouble.

Simone!

Charlotte brought me two madmen!

It's ice cold!

- I didn't get your name. - Godefroy the Hardy.

Hardy? Like someone who's hardy?

It suits you.

Where does Mother of God live?

- Mother of God? What's that? - The old lady fortune teller.

- Who mentioned her? - Where is she?

I don't know and I don't care.

Collot is trying to get my brother involved with her.

She claims Robespierre is the new Messiah.

As if he believed in black magic.

- Who is this Collard? - No, it's Collot.

An ambitious, slandering snake. Maximilien should beware of him.

He invited him for dinner tonight.

- Nice victuals. - We'll go talk to this Collot.

A nice jug of milk, fresh and warm.

Milk straight from the cow.

Come on, it's still warm! Fresh from the farm!

Carry this, pigface.

You carry it, citizen Kurt. We're equals here!

- I'll show you equality. - No slappery!

Stop arguing.

Citizen Hardy is stronger. He can carry.

Be nice. Come on, let's go. And smile!

Citizen Kurt, keep on smiling...

Citizen Kurt.

Before moving abroad, find out whether this Duke has money.

He has an annual stipend of 500,000 pounds.

My God, it's him!

Let him in.

- I'm far too embarrassed. - About what?

- You're a recent widow! I'm shocked! - It's the circumstances, Victoire.

Duke...

Come in, Duke.

A pleasure to see you.

Countess, the pleasure is all mine.

May I sit down? I'm overwhelmed.

How are you managing amid this torment?

Surviving. But I'm afraid it will mar my face.

- I see no trace of worry. - But his face is like a blowfish.

Thank you. You're a good liar.

We witness from the embassy this terror that has seized France.

- Ruthless Robespierre! - We're ruined.

No more castle, no more townhouse...

They took it all. We're homeless. They want to lead us to the gallows.

Madame, speak not of misfortune.

Forgive me this moment of weakness, but alas, such is our reality.

I'm your humble servant.

Blowfish bit the bait.

Just say it and I will rid you of this sadness.

Do you still have your castle on the banks of the Vecht?

I made it much larger.

I added 22 rooms.

I must see it!

It's exactly what we need.

Can we come visit till these revolutionary clouds scatter?

Madame, for me that would mean pure joy.

Did you find the time to read my letters?

Please, Henri...

- I'm mourning. - Silly me!

So it's a deal? I'm thrilled.

- Prepare to receive us! - Sorry...

- Who do you mean by "us"? - All of us, of course.

My children, my stepchildren, my reader and Honorine, my cook.

Thank you, ma'am. And thank you, kind sir.

- And your friend Lorenzo. - Of course, Marquis.

Lorenzo Baldini, Marquis of Portofino, son-in-law of Duke de Cheneviette.

Pleased to meet you.

- My respects. - The pleasure is mine.

They're playing me for a sucker.

Countess, wouldn't it be wiser if we both went to my home

to prepare my mother and sister for your arrival?

Terrible idea.

It's everyone now, or no one.

All right. I give in.

But it will be a violent surprise.

- No... - Yes, a little.

I'll be here tomorrow at six o'clock with the diplomatic coach.

A large one. We have many trunks.

Not a one-week jaunt.

My first name is Hendricks, my dear.

Really? What did I say?

- Henri. - So?

Henri is the translation of Hendrick in French.

- No. - It's easier for us. Don't start!

So then call me Henri.

Fine.

I'm off.

See you tomorrow, Duke. I miss you already.

Same for me, Madame.

Hello, citizen Accuser. Good to see you.

It's hell. The Malfètes came. Ten of them up there!

And they're racists.

They're hiding at the Deputy's? Dumber than I thought.

They prowl in and out like aristocrats.

They brought a harpsichord. Noble music!

A harpsichord? They'll pay dearly for this!

The most dangerous of the lot is a brawny Alsatian named Kurt.

He's always with a stinky little skunk who knocked me down.

- Are you hurt? - My back.

Write a denunciation and give it to me.

I hear Robespierre is eating at his sister's tonight.

You mean at my place. I pay the rent.

Of course, but Robespierre is more famous than you.

- For sure. - Yes.

Hold on. We have something for you.

What is it?

Since we love Robespierre, Philibert cooked him one of his specialties.

What is it?

- Blood pudding. - Very black.

Blood pudding is black. And white.

Of course.

I make it like Mama Renée.

- His mother. - I used cayenne pepper, despite the price.

Maybe he can say hello before he leaves.

Our friends don't believe we know him!

I'll ask. I can't promise anything.

Lolotte!

- It's me. - Yes!

I have good news. Ignace is here with his friend.

Why are they here?

- Family. - Escaped convicts!

We harbor criminals now?

- Come - Oh, Lolotte.

Cheers, great-great-great-grandsonny!

Cheers.

They look like bandits!

- He stole my best suit! - No, I gave it to him.

- They shouldn't eat with your brother. - What's the problem?

They're victims of tyranny. Maximilien can understand.

By tomorrow they'll get amnesty. They'll be heros and so will you.

I hope so.

For your brother, from Prune and her big blackbird.

Give your uncle a kiss. He'd like it.

- He can wait. - Do it!

Go on!

Don't be shy. Kiss.

You think it's easy? His breath is asphyxiating.

That's enough.

- Sonny! - Finally!

- Happy now? - Yes, I like family

and I think showing affection is a good thing.

What's that?

- What is it? - Pus. Don't touch it.

- It burns. The pig drooled on me! - Don't touch it!

It burns!

Purulent dermatitis from prison!

Thanks for the kiss! Boiling water!

Not in the vegetable soup!

What is dermatitis?

The onset of death. We must see the wizard.

Lolotte, he cannot be my uncle.

- We don't look alike. - Fifteen years in jail.

You'd look the same.

No one in my family ever looked like that!

Robespierre's circle. Come clap, baby.

All of them. Couthon, the Terror's advocate.

Saint-Just, archangel of the revolution.

Billaud-Varenne. Fouché, the executioner of Lyon.

This dinner does our building proud.

Long live the Committee!

We will vanquish...

- Fraternal salutations. - Fraternal salutations.

Meet Ignace, Antoine-Claude's uncle.

He rotted in jail for 15 years with citizen Hardy.

- Indeed. - Fraternal salutations.

I'm Jacquouille.

Did he say Jacques Couille?

Yes, he forgot the accent mark. Antoine-Claude was wise to add it.

- Fraternal salutations. - I'd have known he was your uncle.

- Why? We don't look alike at all. - Spitting image. Same eyes.

And the low forehead. Same as yours.

- An indubitable family resemblance. - Dubitable.

- Why is he shouting? - They got yelled at so much.

Let's make a toast.

I won't help you.

Let's toast Robespierre and the revolution.

- Long live the Revolution! - Long live Robespierre!

You're quite shy, citizen Hardy.

You don't toast revolutions?

- To Robespierre's health. - Hear, hear!

To citizen Bess Pierre!

- Hooray is more secular! - Enough!

Marat will present them to the Convention.

- Complicated. - No, the representatives will be thrilled.

But there's a catch.

Can Collot, presiding tomorrow, introduce a citizen called...

Crass?

- I fear that we incur nasty jeers. - I am Jacquouille the Crass!

- Yes, I see. - Maybe we should be truthful?

It would be a catastrophe.

- The deputies will hear "Crass" and laugh. - We can't call you Crass. Sorry, citizen.

- What name would you like? - I'm Jacquouille!

Stubborn mule! We'll choose one ourselves.

Sack? Citizen Sack?

- How about Assy? - Quiet.

I know what name.

We'll use Jacquard.

Ignace Jacquard has a nice ring to it.

Jacquard is my great-great-great grandsonny.

"Jacquard" sounds like "Whack hard."

It beats Jacquouillete. Consider changing.

- Jacquouillete is fey. - True.

- And the meat? - I'm bringing it in now!

Thank you.

Maximilien, at last!

Fraternal salutations.

Fraternal salutations, Maximilien. We're thrilled to have you.

- Fraternal salutations. - Fraternal salutations.

We started eating as you said.

I'm glad. No formalities tonight.

Keep it simple.

Who are those two?

Ignace, Jacquouillete's uncle.

Citizen Hardy, his mate.

- Both unfairly sent to the royal galleys. - The soup is fabulous!

- I'm proud to introduce you. - Fraternal salutations, Bess Pierre!

Robespierre.

- Fraternal salutations. - To Robespierre, our chief!

Excuse me? I'm no one's chief.

- That one is your uncle? - Very distantly related.

- But he's your father's brother. - Exactly. He's not my father.

So he's distant.

Hear about the Issoudun prison mutiny?

- Aren't you in charge of that prison? - Yes, I am.

But at the exact moment it happened,

I was confiscating the Montmirail castle from Malfète's family.

We'll take everything. That'll show them!

- Well said! - It's scandalous!

You prioritized the castle over an uprising?

Of course I did. To accommodate Carnot's troops.

The castle always welcomes soldiers. I approve!

Let's get to the point. How many prisoners escaped?

- A very small handful. - I hear 45. Is that wrong?

No, 45 is the right number. You're right.

I didn't want to bore you with the numbers.

I didn't count old men and women.

- Why? - Yes, why be selective?

I don't know.

I stupidly thought they were more harmless.

You are stupid.

- Old men and women remain symbols. - True.

No one must challenge the Republic when it's in danger.

Very well put.

Sixteen were found and guillotined immediately.

The two leaders escaped.

What do you know of them?

Honestly, you've caught me off guard.

Do you have a description of the anti-revolutionaries?

Me? Yes... No, in fact I don't.

It's unclear because... the jailors are still dazed.

I have a note from Commissioner Verdier.

It's very clear.

He says that the two leaders were foreigners.

A Spaniard and an Englishman.

A giant and a smelly dwarf.

- I prefer foreigners. - Why?

Better foreigners than Frenchmen. Deceitful Frenchmen sadden me.

I have 200 men combing the area.

- They won't escape. - Why are you here?

What are you doing feasting in Paris?

I'm going back tonight.

You have 48 hours to arrest those scoundrels and kill them.

No more.

You're sweating.

I don't feel well. I caught cold on the way here.

- Where is the cologne? - The bathroom.

The bathroom?

Excuse me.

Do you even realize? The leaders are at our table!

Calm down.

- Come back and act normal. - The rest of this meal has to go well.

Honestly... I'm afraid.

- So no false notes! - Hurry up.

Bravo! You're a hero to have confiscated the castle.

It's ours now.

- It's the Republic's! - Keep it in the family!

- We'll be proud. - Shut up or we'll have nothing.

Not even our heads.

Idiot.

- There you are, Jacquouillete. - Feeling better?

- Maximilien, a glass of white or red? - Milk.

- A glass of milk? - Yes.

- Lolotte, do we have milk? - No.

- No milk? - Half a glass will do.

Neither of us drinks milk.

No milk? That's unbelievable!

No milk for Robespierre? What a false note!

How can there be a house without any milk?

- Go and hail a passing cow! - A passing cow at night?

I've never heard such nonsense. No milk?

Sorry, there's no milk! I can't allow this!

I'll find some. Believe me!

- Okay. - No milk!

Uncle Ignace, why the prison rags again?

- It's comfier. - It suits him. More common.

You'll speak longer next time. Danton was interminable.

The cuckold and the cocksman!

We never have enough time at the assembly.

True.

- What's the rush, why the panic? - Milk hunt!

- Prune! I need milk on the double! - I finished all mine.

No milk in this dump? A building without milk!

Where am I supposed to get it?

The cow already came by. Now the cow is asleep!

- The cow's asleep? - Yes.

Why is it asleep? Unbelievable!

- What is it? - I wanted to say hello to your brother.

- Bon appétit. - Thanks. Good evening.

- Eat yet, Malfète? - No, not yet.

Is that all?

Hurry. They must be waiting upstairs.

Good evening.

I'm late because I read my latest poem to the Jacobins.

It's dedicated to you. Want to hear?

- Long? - Fifteen stanzas.

Recite the first to give us an idea.

"To the Liberty Tree"

"Dear tree, become the token of our hope

Help us cope"

Blossom forever in the wild

Protect every child...

Sorry, Collot... Maximilien finished your blood pudding.

- My guilty pleasure. - Too spicy for me.

It was... well-seasoned.

No one here has any milk? No milk in Paris!

Robespierre wants milk. I'll bring them some.

We finished it.

How can that be? I bought a jug today.

Hot cocoa in honor of the Duke.

He bought Madame. Now we can die in Holland.

You're going too far.

- That's my champagne! - Can't I have some?

The Incorruptible has been in there for ten minutes.

It's becoming worrisome.

It's the blood pudding.

- You're Collot? - Yes, why?

My guts are on fire. Damned blood pudding.

Sorry, Maximilien.

It reeks of tobacco here! I can't breathe.

It's as if you're trying to kill me.

Now it's out.

Tell Maximilien about your idea of presenting them to the Convention.

Marat thinks they could be shown as victims of monarchy.

- Fouché says it's a fine idea. - Not true. I have no opinion.

- Can they express themselves? - Just ask them.

Are you able to speak publically?

- It's not an easy audience. - I knoweth no fear, chief.

We'll be able to address them and give much slappery.

We'll skin their butts

Like the bailiff in the Orne

We killed him one fine morn

And hanged him by his nuts

Hooray is more secular!

Charlotte, can they leave us for a short moment?

- Come with me. Time for dessert. - Desserts are cool!

Hooray for Bess Pierre!

How reckless.

I don't understand a word they say.

Which means there is no thought.

Share these two amongst yourselves while they discuss next door.

They're total illiterates!

I hate demagoguery!

The Convention would accuse us of taking advantage of retards!

How concise.

Robespierre is a snake.

Once he finds out who we are, we'll be beheaded!

Certainly not!

We can't leave. The Convention will applaud us.

Enough, nitwit! Obey or I'll disembowel you!

We are men of reason and virtue.

I won't use two simpletons to garner pity.

Send them packing.

No more milk! I tried everywhere.

No milk in the area!

We must wait till tomorrow because the cow's asleep.

Forget the milk. I'm in pain. I'm going.

Me too.

Shall I see you home?

- No, I live nearby. - Barnabé!

Take me home.

Take us to Mother of God or die!

Quiet or I'll cut your throat!

- No more gifts. - Why not?

The tortoiseshell comb I gave you for your birthday

was in the toilet.

Chipped.

Lolotte, when I came back,

I saw Ignace and his friend. Where are they going?

They were supposed to wait. They left!

Bravo!

I have 48 hours to arrest them! Why didn't you watch them?

- You want me to die, madwoman? - Watch your tone!

I left my briefcase. My speech is in it.

- Are you all right? - Yes...

I thought I heard fighting.

- Not at all. - No.

Charlotte, from now on keep out of politics. I'd prefer.

- That's what I say. It's for men. - I didn't say that!

As man's equal, women must participate.

- Be nice to my sister. - I'm sorry.

With this prison escape, I've lost my head.

Try to keep hold of it.

My head? Yes, of course.

Heed my words. I'll have the two of them guillotined.

At dawn, I'll give their descriptions to the guards.

Here comes our Robespierre!

How did you like my blood pudding?

My belly! I ate a rat!

How pretentious!

Bottom of the well, Collot!

- Who sent you? - Collot.

Mother of God is listening.

- Mother, I beg of you... - Quiet!

I feel people who visit me from afar.

From very far. From the abysses.

Big man... step closer.

An evil halo surrounds you and your companion.

- Where are you from? - A time when God ruled.

If you stay here, you'll suffocate and die.

You are Godefroy the Hardy.

A great warrior who fought beside Louis The Fat.

He requires your help. Listen to me, Hardy!

I am Nora.

Daughter of Eusaebius, the magician.

Louis VI called for war against the Teutons.

Montmirail,

if you are not at my side before the full moon,

your land will be seized and given to...

- One-Eyed Raoul. - The Fat!

It's the King, Sire. It is witchcraft!

How do I go back?

Go to Issoudun, to the town square!

Find the shop of citizen Eusèbe.

My descendent will concoct a magical brew.

Make haste or your body will become horrendous

and even putrefy, like that of your companion.

- Stay. I'll get weapons and victuals. - To return to the Car Age?

- Trust me, Crass One. - They were the most fun.

That's your opinion. Now go watch the horses!

- Not my opinion, 'tis truthy! - For sure, citizen Jacquouille.

Freeze, prisoner. You cannot pilfer from my pantry!

Wasp bite your nose?

Robespierre will cut off your head, and soon.

Listen to me, sonny, because I knoweth your future.

- They mentioned me? - Robespierre dislikes you.

They humiliated you by refusing you their table.

Really?

A Montmirail is never refused supper.

So listen.

Your days are numbered. Wed your beloved.

Make her a descendant.

Even if your life is not spared,

your child will survive and our name will continue.

Our name?

What name?

I am Godefroy the Hardy, first Count of Montmirail,

by the grace of Louis VI.

You are my descendent

and I am moved to meeteth you.

Follow my advice.

Shaggeth thy lady-love. And I will go home.

Go!

Halt!

The president's coach, Sergeant!

- Let it through! - Meathead!

I don't believe it! No way!

In the name of the Republic! Search!

Someone told them.

I'll get you yet, Malfète!

Halt!

- Papers. - Diplomatic pouch.

I'm the Dutch Ambassador.

Go!

Citizen Sire! We're in the town square.

Come!

Sire, your nose!

It's all red and droopy! You're wrinkled.

You have a cow's neck. That's why we must leave.

Not me. I'm too suspicious.

- Suspicious of who? Me? - Of another damned potion!

Come here, idiot! Look at your pitiful state.

- Your agony will be atrocious. - How terrifying! Help, I'm suffocating!

Take me with you!

Here, Verdier. Thirty drops a day. Your sore throat will go away soon.

In water.

Not wine.

Help! I'm all swollen!

I'm going to die!

I think these citizens need me. Pay later.

Guards!

You came quick.

- The potion! - Let's hurry!

- This way. - The potion...

Help! Soldiers! I found the escapees!

Make haste!

I can't breathe!

Fast!

I'm becoming a toad!

I must add viper venom to the potion.

Shut your face! Hurry or I'll die!

I must return to my betrothed.

I'll finish the potion and you're off. It's my mission.

Are we going back to the Car Age?

I'd rather die here!

- Yes, trust me. - Swear it, Sire.

- Swear! - I swear.

Make haste, wizard! The soldiery is coming!

Hasten!

Drink.

Drink!

By Horus, by Ra, by Sol Invictus. Lead the way.

By Sol Invictus. Lead the way!

Get up!

Sire, I can finally breathe again.

Yes! We're back home, Jacquouille!

It worked!

You're back in shape!

- Back home? - We're back in the time of knights!

Rascal!

I'd never have obeyed your whims!

Come, my castle awaits us.

Trickery!

You're a perjurer! You'll be damned!

- Damned to hell! - Swearing to a serf doesn't count.

You're not a nobleman, methinks!

- Come! Move on... rogue! - Shame on you!

Shame and scandal!

Citizens!

Where are you?

You dillydallyasse, rogue!

Screweth you! You're the rogue!

My castle!

What traitor hung his flag there?

- Louis confiscated my castle! - It serveth you right!

Cars!

Cars!

This is too cool, Godefroy!

The wizard fuckethed up again! We're in the Car Age!

Let's dance a jig! Cars are so cool!

Silence! It's enemy soldiery! They speak Teutonic!

- They've seized my castle! - Germans?!

My great-great-great grandsonny, held by Germans?

Jacquard, a prisoner?

There you are! I came along.

Holy scrotums! Another blunder! We're back in Car Age!

- Holy shit! - Let's find Lady Ginette.

Let's go to my dungeon. Goddammit!

Colonel, what the hell is going on?

- Your soldiers have moved into my room. - Sorry, Herr Jacquard.

Rommel has come from Tunisia to inspect the Atlantic Wall.

His presence is an honor.

But now I'm sleeping with my servants in their quarters.

What am I to do?

Edmund...

It's "Edmond," please. You need the whole castle?

The Feldmarschall is coming.

- I'm sorry. - I don't get it.

I believe in the Europe you're building with Pétain.

But you annex my home as if I'm the enemy.

But you must sort the wheat from the chaff.

We're perfectly able to sort the white from the shaft.

"Wheat," not "white." And "chaff."

- What? - Nothing.

Edmund...

Edmond.

Can you ask your son Jacques-Henri to stop with his American music?

We prefer classical music. Mozart, Bach, Beethoven...

There's plenty to choose from in German music.

Of course. I'll be right back.

What the hell is he up to?

Jacques-Henri!

Enough with your gramophone! Wurtz and I can't hear a thing!

Your hipster music will get us killed!

Father, it's jazz! It's just to dance.

Collaborator!

- What? - Refrigerator.

I prefer that.

Read a book.

I'll recapture my castle!

My armor!

Hello?

Jacquouille, take a weapon and follow me.

Sorry!

What is going on here?

Stop!

Sire, it fell!

Stop!

- Don't move! - I am innocent.

- Move! - Certainly.

Fat toad, now they got the wizard!

We're stuck in time again!

At least he can't concoct that damned potion.

- No slappery! - Show some respect! Get out!

Freeze or I'll shoot!

- Fraternal salutations, citizen. - Hands up!

Captain François! These two were spying!

- Kill them? - Why are you here?

Gonzague the Coward, Sire.

It's not the coward.

It's his sonny. Malfète had children. Come in my arms!

- Freeze! - I know you. You're a Montmirail.

The bloodline continued.

- Know the Montmirails? - Don't I look like the first count?

Aren't these your family arms?

Yes, it's disturbing.

Like the painting, but ugly.

Why the circus outfits?

The castle. We escaped the Teutons via the chimney.

- Down with the Teutons! - You know the secret passage?

Yes, I built it.

They're mad. Should I kill them?

No, Gaspard.

We need that secret passage.

- The Krauts spotted us! - Take them!

Who are they? Big one looks like my ancestor.

But there are Romanians working for the Nazis, infiltrating the Resistance.

They're not too discreet. They won't get far.

Maybe they're dumb.

I'll interrogate them good and hard.

Remember, they can show us the passage.

- Not now, Captain. - It's never now.

What a thrill to be back in a car!

Listen to this jalopy roar. How modern!

Renault tuned it up last week. Runs like a charm!

Have a nice cigar.

Black market? Don't mind if I do.

It's been two years.

Cigar. Can I have one? Okay?

Okay!

Stop screaming! Are you crazy?

Crazy! Okay! Crazy!

- Crazy! - Shut up back there!

Okay!

Don't press against me, Henri. It's suffocating.

Are you not well, dear?

There's not enough room in here.

Would you prefer I sit with the driver?

That would be wonderful, Duke.

If you don't mind.

This weather is terrible!

- All that weight against me. - Unbearable.

Move!