Original subtitles

So, my mapmaker, take me away from here?

Where do you want to go?

Somewhere we can always be together.

Marry me, Camille.

You can't afford me, Pascal.

My father's title, his fortune,

should have been mine when he died,

but you poisoned him against me.

It's not my fault he fell in love with me.

I will not spend the night with you.

You will stay. I've paid for you.

- Who is she? - Geneviève de Merteuil.

Tell me I am your only lover.

She's married.

She will do or pay anything to save her reputation.

The Marquis has left Saint-Domingue.

He will return before the month is out.

There are more letters, all from other women.

All write of love.

What do you want from me?

Teach me, and I will give you back every one of your letters.

Privilege cannot be learned.

I have been in a great house before.

I have only to send one letter to your husband.

If you have it.

Welcome to the opera, Camille.

Your freedom, Madame, as you have given me mine.

Your letters.

We should never be at the mercy of men again.

I have taken off my armor.

There's nothing left to protect...

except perhaps you.

You are my guest, Camille.

This house is your house,

your opportunity.

Use it...

and you will flourish in Paris.

There is power...

in other people's secrets.

They will do anything to keep them hidden.

Your skill

will be to find those secrets.

They will be your power.

Guard them.

Use them.

Avenge our sex.

Devise strategies

I could not even imagine.

Conquer...

...or die.

We shouldn't have come here.

We don't belong.

Camille, we have to go.

She wanted me to stay.

And now she's dead.

"Avenge our sex."

"Conquer theirs."

I will do it.

You cannot be thinking of Valmont.

It's not about him.

You still love him.

It's not love.

It's war.

Over there! Take her.

Hey! Up, up, up. Come on.

There are bad men coming.

You don't know me, but I'm trying to help you.

Get up.

Please. She's a stranger, taken a wrong turn.

Jericho will pay good money for her,

even in that state.

She's gone, sir.

I know she's gone.

Camille seeks to punish me, but I will find her,

she'll forgive me, and all will be well.

Now, do you have information?

Did you go to Merteuil? She must have my letters.

How else would she have been so brazen with me?

It's her, sir... Madame de Merteuil.

She's dead.

No. No.

That is not possible. I was with her last night.

She was far from dead.

There's been some error here, Azolan.

I heard it in Les Halles, first thing.

Yeah, market gossip.

The news came from the big house.

She was my...

Friend.

We'll manage.

Have I ever failed to put food on this table?

I have other friends. We are not alone.

I have a gentleman, Camille.

Camille.

I have a gentleman, Camille.

He's paid for the week.

He wants a girl who's clever as much as pretty.

Well, isn't that you? Hmm?

The girl who's always thinking,

always got something to say.

Though never has there been a word of thanks to me

for sewing you up,

giving you employment.

Now, salt your teeth.

Put rosewater in your hair and vinegar down below

and make me money.

I thought your mistress was given to embellishment.

I was wrong.

You must have your pick. What do you want from me?

Or is it possession that excites you?

I want to know the heart and mind of women,

to learn what they desire.

You believe we think and act as one.

I desire only freedom.

You should ask for your money back.

Isn't your work to anticipate and sate the want of others?

Teach me that.

I want an education in the female sex...

...so that I might be its equal.

"Your dauphine yearns for you."

"You ask me to write to you with all that I feel,

"but I can only write one word over and over again.

Valmont, Valmont, Valmont."

No façade,

no hiding the truth of what you want.

You haven't paid enough for the truth.

Isn't the fact that I seek it payment enough?

"My body is yours. My heart, too.

"Come to me again.

Claudette."

"You are both lover and confessor.

"I have talked to you

of things I would not tell a priest."

Women crave to be known and understood.

Most men see women as a surface

in which to reflect themselves.

"It was an explosion that night between us

when we both went off with such a bang."

"How exquisitely you pulled the trigger.

Your M."

"When we both went off with such a bang."

"Where are you, pussycat?

"How can it be that both fire and wetness exist together

"at the same time within me

"without one extinguishing the other?

Your Florence."

Oh!

To hell with you, Valmont.

Ah, mademoiselle,

you saved me the trouble of waking you.

There is breakfast waiting... Bread and cheese.

I was thinking more eggs and ham

and some of the sweet pastries.

In the kitchen, mademoiselle...

The bread and the cheese.

Perhaps you-you didn't hear me.

And when you've quite finished with the bread and the cheese...

We are a generous house... There is coffee, too.

I will personally ready madame's carriage

and see you returned to wherever it is

you came from with...

whatever you arrived in.

Madame had a wish for me,

a desire that I should flourish here.

Madame is gone.

I'm the last word on every matter in this house.

I wonder how her husband would feel about that.

Is this not his house?

Like kindness, Monsieur de Merteuil

is a stranger to Paris these days.

Then I'll wait for him.

I would advise against that.

I don't seek your advice.

Very good, mademoiselle.

Camille made a fool out of me, too, dear.

You know how much that little whore owes me?

I'm not the only one who wants her facedown in a gutter.

But we'll find you another girl...

a nice girl.

I don't want another girl. I want Camille.

Perhaps I wasn't clear. She's gone.

That means she is no longer here, so...

You misunderstand me.

I wish to buy her...

in installments, of course,

so that when I find her, she is mine completely.

What a rarity you are, paying for what you didn't get.

I'm a man of honor.

Hmm.

- Which men used to... - To fuck her?

They all did.

And we're not a house that takes names.

You shouldn't waste your money on Camille, monsieur.

You could pay all the money in the world,

and she still wouldn't be yours.

It was love that made her go...

mad love for Valmont.

Hmm.

Hello, pussycat.

I have missed you.

- How much? - Mm.

As much as that?

You have heard Merteuil is dead?

So sad,

but let's not waste our precious time.

Let us celebrate the living.

How long do the living have?

Not long enough to get this off and on again

- before my next engagement. - Mm.

I think I've proven my dexterity.

I'll ensure it goes back on without a crease.

Let me feel both fire...

and wetness at the same time.

Your words keep me

from the melancholy I suffer without you..

Poor pussycat.

Hush now.

- I want to feel that way again. - Mm.

I read your letters over and over again.

I must have another.

No more letters.

I've secured the apartment you wanted...

just for us.

From now on, anything I wish to tell you,

I shall do so to your face...

...or another part of you.

My choice.

I thought on what you said, mademoiselle,

and as you so rightly pointed out,

I am not master of this house,

whereas you claim a unique closeness with Madame.

What has brought about this change of heart?

The mourners, mademoiselle.

The mourners in need of comfort for the dear friend...

A loose time in Paris... They've lost.

It should be you to offer them that comfort.

Oh.

Didn't Madame want you to flourish?

So flourish.

Please don't, Majordome.

In our grief, how fortunate we are

to have among us Madame's closest confidant,

who I'm sure needs no introduction...

Mademoiselle Camille.

I've never seen her before in my life.

Her beauty, though.

Perhaps that's why Merteuil kept her hidden.

What kept you?

Whoever he is, he should be more discreet.

Do we know her?

Madame's "closest confidant" Camille.

Mourners only.

Perhaps you should go to your room and pack.

You acted every night at Jericho's.

Act now.

- Greetings. - Mademoiselle.

Condolences, mademoiselle.

Good day, mademoiselle.

All alone here with not even the Marquis for company...

What a waste.

Camille is not alone.

We are here.

Hmm, but you must tell us the truth.

The truth?

Well, what really happened?

It can't be so dull as falling down stairs.

I prefer not to speak of it, madame.

I never heard her speak of you.

And this great friendship grew how?

My mother and she were very close... in the country.

Where in the country?

Carcassonne.

I'm touched at your interest.

It's not interest.

You're a stranger to us, and our friend is dead,

so you must tell us every detail

of how you came from Carcassonne

to Saint-Honoré.

Another time, perhaps.

I'm grieving.

But the Marquise was my guardian here,

and she would want her friends to extend the same courtesy.

You'll need a new guardian, Camille.

Paris is a dangerous place for the unconnected.

I'm not without connections.

You are unknown.

It's much the same.

Florence, you go too far.

Not far enough.

There's only room for one fresh-faced pussycat in Paris,

and that's me-ow.

"Adieu, my pussycat. Your Florence."

Do fire and wetness still exist within you at the same time?

I beg your pardon?

Do you wish me to repeat it?

Beware the divine miracle of Valmont.

Merteuil shared everything with me.

So come at me, and I'll come at you harder,

pussycat.

Is not a friend of the late Marquise

a friend to us all?

Welcome to Paris, Camille.

May your stay be a happy one.

Thank you.

See to our guests.

Ahh.

You reminded me who I am.

Thank you.

Madame said I had a gift

for finding secrets.

I used one against that woman,

against Florence de Regnier.

But you've never met her before.

No, but I've read Valmont's letters,

and they're full of secrets and confessions.

And now they're mine,

'cause you took them from him and gave them to me.

Only so you would know the truth about him.

Now I know the truth about a lot of people.

Good evening, sir.

I said good evening, Monsieur Valmont.

Do I know you?

- By association. - Whose?

I'll dismiss him from my circle immediately.

You don't make much sense to me, monsieur.

How is a man with no private means

who works as a mapmaker in the Royal Commission

able to afford evenings of carriages and good clothes,

not to mention an afternoon spent with a married comtesse?

If you're one of my stepmother's spies,

you can tell her the only interest I require from her

is on the fortune that I am owed.

I am not.

Then if your question

is simply how do I achieve my lifestyle,

the answer is with the natural talents

of charm and good looks.

My sympathies at your lack of them.

Good night.

Sir?

A letter for you.

And there's a carriage waiting downstairs.

With Florence inside...

and with keys to our new apartment.

We are back, Azolan.

I had a craving for you...

the very essence of you.

I am flattered.

Take off your shirt, Valmont.

Supper first, perhaps.

Pussycat does not love me.

He won't do what I ask.

Love is about trust.

We expose ourselves to one another, do we not?

I am half naked before you.

Oh.

Take off your britches.

Why don't we first view the apartment?

If you take it all off.

Florence, my God. Must I be that vulnerable?

Turn the carriage around.

That was my favorite shirt.

I laid myself so open to you,

such trust...

in wicked Valmont.

What?

You shared my letters with Merteuil.

My God, no.

But I do believe she may have taken them

from my possession.

"Beware the divine Valmont"...

That is what she said to me.

- That is what Merteuil said? - Merteuil told me nothing.

It seems she told her ward everything.

Merteuil had no ward.

Well, some pretty young thing would disagree.

What are you talking about?

Who is this woman?

Camille.

Come near me again or dare risk my marriage,

and I'll kill you.

The girl, too.

- Whoa, there. - Get out.

I am naked, Florence.

You're vulnerable.

Take this time to think about what

you're willing to risk.

Florence!

Florence, come back here!

Lovely night, ladies.

Though there is a bit of a chill in the air.

Oh.

Thank you.

And there I was,

all this time believing Merteuil

capable of such ingenuity...

when it was you.

Perhaps you have always underestimated me.

You have something that belongs to me.

Your dignity?

My letters.

How did you take them?

All that matters is that they are mine now.

You have no idea what you have or how to use them.

Yet here I am, holding every card

and living in Saint-Honoré.

Do you know how dangerous it is to have them?

Less dangerous than not having them, I think.

Oh, Camille, stop this.

You've made your point.

You've punished me.

You've proved a worthy adversary.

I've learnt my lesson.

I haven't even begun to teach you.

Do you know what I had to do to get to the bridge?

To find you'd played a game with me?

I came to the bridge.

- Liar. - I came. You were gone.

You came too late.

So you came here...

- to Merteuil? - I wanted to be with someone

who knew how it felt to be betrayed.

And you believed that she would bring you comfort.

I brought her comfort.

And in return, she has given me all of this.

She has made me safe.

These people are wolves,

and they will enjoy tearing you apart.

They cannot hurt me more than you have.

Camille.

Camille, I'm sorry.

I'm here now.

Come with me.

I told you if you betrayed me again,

I would not forgive you.

I meant it.

Then I will earn your forgiveness

if it takes me the rest of my life.

Don't make me call the servant.

I want you gone.

We're a house in mourning.

I miss her, too.

Because of what she could do for you.

Because she cared for me.

She would never have thrown me to those people.

Good practice.

There'll be more.

She would have been saddened you were one of them.

This way. Carry on.

Happy day, mademoiselle.

The Marquis has returned and requests your presence.

You wear my wife's perfume.

It is good to have you home, sir.

I am sorry it is in such sad circumstances.

I am sorry that you are sad.

We were very close.

From your childhood.

The summers in Carcassonne.

Yes, that's right.

And your mother was my wife's dear friend.

Forgive me,

but I do hear a lot of stories in my business.

It's not...

My work takes me a good deal to Saint-Domingue.

The heat's brutal.

My wife was rarely present. Do you see my point?

That you were quite separate.

I knew as much.

You knew as much?

You?

My wife could not abide the heat.

A warm day would bring her out in hives.

She has never set foot south of Paris...

never in Carcassonne.

And no woman of breeding would ever let me do this.

Throw this opportunistic baggage out.

Madame was my friend.

She promised to be my guardian, to guide and protect me.

Then what a tragedy for you that she fell down the stairs.

You should hurry along.

A woman without a guardian is at some risk here...

In Paris, I mean.

Get her out.

Did you give it to him...

The letter she left for her husband?

There was no letter.

Rather, Majordome, you didn't.

There was no letter.

That letter is a weapon.

Be sure to handle it with care.

Time to pack.

If you cared for her as you claim to,

you would honor her wishes.

And where you have lost a friend,

you could have gained an ally in me.

It's over for us here.

Now we go?

Are you insane?

My God.

Where have you been?

I'm in mourning.

I lost a dear friend.

To mourn, you would first need a heart.

Stay away from me. I'm done with you.

Oh, don't be such a flirt, Emile.

If you want more money, say so.

If you bring me into this, I'll deny everything.

You had the key, not I.

Do you have a fever?

What are you talking about?

The Commissioner wants you.

- Valmont. - Sir.

I so rarely have the pleasure of your time.

How is your wife?

Please, take a seat.

The officer has some questions.

Sir?

Tell me about the other day, about the boy thief.

I wasn't at my desk. You must have all the details.

You seem hostile to a simple question, monsieur.

Why?

This is a serious matter, no?

Nothing was taken, nothing of value.

The boy didn't break into the vault, did he?

He used a key.

You hold the only one.

And it is here...

where it's always been.

Well, then you must have made a copy.

I had nothing to do with this.

They boy ran into the IÎle,

an area I understand you are more than familiar with.

Why do you like the IÎle, monsieur?

It's full of whores and traitors.

What could it hold for a gentleman like you?

Officer, we want no scandal here.

I serve only to protect the king.

I do not believe this man to be a danger to the king.

But there is no place here for a man so...

lacking in morality.

Monsieur.

Perhaps I was worth a little more respect

than you showed me.

If I've offended your sister or your mother...

Camille, monsieur...

I'm talking of Camille.

What could you know of her?

- She's mine. - Yours?

She belongs to no one but herself and...

never to a man like you.

She ran from me to be with you.

Yet in all my observations of you, I do not see her.

I see only your immoral acts with others,

and now she's gone.

So I will ruin you, monsieur, for betraying her,

and a man like me will have her.

You sent for me, sir?

How long have you been with this house?

Twenty years, sir.

And in those years,

how many times have you been in this room,

approximately?

Rarely, sir.

And in my wife's rooms?

Whenever I've been called, sir.

Speaks volumes, does it not?

About the bond between us.

If I have shirked a duty or been remiss

in any request from you, sir, I did not know it.

She's dead.

Let's not pretend you have a place here.

A weapon should be in the hands

of someone who knows how to use it.

Why didn't you give it to him?

Because it would change nothing.

Without this letter,

her death is simply an accident.

She will have the funeral, the respect she deserves.

You may read it.

"Jean, my husband...

"my tyrant on his throne,

you are reading the last"...

...the last words I will ever write.

You are reading my confession.

I can no longer bear the secrets

in this sprawling house and empty marriage.

I can't read it. There's a water stain.

"Apri... the bitter fruit our marriage bore."

Apricot, perhaps.

They're sweet, not bitter.

I know because I had one once.

"The sour taste that haunts me

"through this life and the next

is more than I can stomach."

You will not mourn me.

Of that, I am sure,

but what has been done here between us...

...is at an end.

What does she mean?

Her marriage.

That is what she wanted to escape.

I promised her a miracle.

I could not give her that.

But I can protect her now.

Perhaps I will be your miracle.

You are my enemy's enemy.

That will suffice.

Is it the carriage fare you need?

I think we got off on the wrong foot, monsieur.

Well...

I fear it might be a mistake,

something you'd regret if I were to leave.

Oh, don't be a silly girl.

Silly girls always end up in tears.

Your wife said I had a talent.

Do you know what it is?

I could guess.

I find the things that people try to hide.

"The secrets in their sprawling house

"and empty marriage,

"the bitter fruit our marriage bore,

"the sour taste that haunts me

through this life and the next."

The madhouse may take an interest in these ramblings.

I do not.

Your wife's words.

What?

From the letter she left.

She didn't fall.

She took her own life.

No.

Never. She would never.

- It goes against her faith. - Because of you.

I don't know who you are or why you're here,

but if you perpetuate this lie, you will suffer greatly for it.

I have the letter.

Show me.

Then I would be a silly girl.

Support her last wish...

that I flourish here in Paris,

or I will share your wife's ungodly act

with all your society.

Do you know who I am?

Not a very nice man.

See you at the funeral, monsieur.

And the Majordome stays.

You need to get ready for the funeral, sir.

- You're not even shaved. - I'm busy.

You need to pay your respects.

No, I need to conserve my energy.

Colette Tresemme... Recently widowed...

Is holding a salon on Rousseau's Social Contract,

though nobody read that,

and the widow is too consumed by grief

to see what I might offer.

Sentiment or food.

I can't afford both.

We are here to mourn the passing

of the Marquise de Merteuil...

A life dedicated to her beloved husband, the Marquis.

Through history, the family has served the royal house,

with the Marquis no exception.

He has shown endurance and courage

in expanding the range

of our glorious king and country.

His work in the colonies overseeing the coffers

the plantations represent meant long absences,

which the Marquise bore with grace

and understanding of their roles...

Duty, and honor.

She will be much missed.

Old Merteuil's funeral seems to commemorate her husband.

How charming she got a mention in the end.

Take comfort, Marquis.

I'm here with you.

She's good. I'll give her that.

But at what?

You must put this agony in God's hands, Marquis.

You must put this agony in God's hands, Marquis.

You must put this agony in God's hands, Camille.

I am without the comfort of your faith,

Madame de Montrachet.

- Camille, what is it? - I've seen a ghost, Victoire.

I was overcome. Must be grief.

I find that unlikely.

The woman you were talking to, the woman in the veil,

I think perhaps I knew her once.

From the opera?

You have a box, too?

How could you possibly know a woman

such as Jacqueline de Montrachet?

The woman at the funeral...

...she promised me everything.

She didn't keep her promise...

and she threw me away as if I were nothing.

You're scaring me, Camille.

Don't be scared.

You saved me.

You made me live, for this.

I'm not nothing.

And I will make her see that.

And she will suffer.

Meet me in the Merteuil box.

What? Where are you going?

C-Camille, I'm not sitting up there by myself.

I don't even like opera.

I have thought of her every day

these past four years, Victoire.

I'm tired of waiting.

The Montrachet box.

Ah...

Uh, forgive us, mademoiselle.

Where is Jacqueline de Montrachet?

Uh, she hasn't been for years.

The box is entirely wasted on her.

Get out.

Please.

Of course. Of course.

Put this agony in God's hands, Camille...

...or it will destroy you.

Love is lethal, Camille.

Trust me when I tell you,

your lover is your future enemy.

Avenge our sex.

Devise strategies

I could not even imagine.

Conquer...

...or die.