All language subtitles for The Scarlet Pimpernel (1982).eng

The former Duke and Duchess de Grenoble.

There they are!

The former bishop of arles.

Our father who art in heaven.

Death to the aristocrats!

Death to the aristos!

Long live the Republic!

Long live the Republic.

'Ere, what's this?
You got yours already.

These is empty, Citizen.

You wouldn't begrudge a man
his fair share, now, would you?

All right.

Giddap.

The former count de beaulier,
and family.

Here they are!

I beg of you, Monsieur.

Fear not, my son.

If you will look at the
passages that I have marked,

your spirits will
be uplifted.

It's not for myself,
I fear, father,

but my wife,
and the boy.

They have done nothing!

They are innocent!

Innocent? Ha!

Show me one aristo
that is innocent

and you can spit in my face.

Surely the child
is too young to die.

Even so, he will live on...
Through the mercy of our Lord.

Look here, my son.

Take them away!

Former Marquis Cetterais.

There he is!

We've come to help you.

Quickly.

Be brave
my darling.

Huh!

Ho there!

Sergeant Beavo.

Yes sir.

Count de Beaulieu and his family
have escaped from the Temple prison.

We've just received word
that the Scarlet Pimpernel

is at large in the city.

Could be he'll try to
smuggle them out of the country

by way of this,
or one of the other gates.

Be on the alert,
and keep your eyes open.

All right, lads.

Search every
cart that comes through.

All right, let's see
your papers.

Oh, everything in
order, Sergeant.

Let me see
inside those coffins.

What, open the coffins?

You heard me.

All right.

Yeah!
Do as he says.

Best be warned, sergeant, aye.

Madame le Guillotine's
handiwork is not a pretty sight.

Uh..see for yourself.

If you got the stomach.

Take it back.

What's the matter, sergeant.
It must have been pretty bad.

Get out of here.
Go on. Clear out!

The other two
are even prettier!

Get out of here.
Go on.

Aw right, aw right.

You don't know
what you're missing.

Get out!

Now, now.

Open the gates.
Go on.

What are you
laughing at?

My darling.

Who is this man
that risks so much for us?

That, sir, is the
Scarlet Pimpernel.

Within the hour,

this countryside will
be swarming with soldiers.

God willing, you'll
reach the coast

before they can
catch up with you.

Do you know the rendezvous?

Unchanged?

Unchanged.

My ship will be waiting
to take you to England.

Now, go quickly.

God's speed.

And what about you, Percy?

I'm back to Paris.

But I shall
see you shortly.

Right.

'The Scarlet Pimpernel,
by Sir Percival Blakeney, Baronet.

'They seek him here.

'They seek him there.

'Those frenchies seek him everywhere.

'Is he in heaven?

'Or is he in hell?

'That damned,

'elusive

'pimpernel.'

Oh, do tell us more about
the Scarlet Pimpernel, Sir Percy.

All Paris is talking
about him.

Nothing more to tell,
my dear Susanne.

Except, that he and his
band of friends

have sworn to save
as many as they can

from Madame le Guillotine.

At least tell us
who he is.

Sink me, Mademoiselle, if I knew that
I'd be the toast of London, what!

That

would seem to be

the mystery.

What exactly is a scarlet
pimpernel, Sir Percy?

Nothing more than a
humble wayside flower.

Rather common
in point of fact.

Still, what's in name?

Surely the deeds of a man
speak for themselves.

I only wish there
were more like him.

Odds fish, my dear,
one is quite enough.

The fellow's already made
life damned inconvenient,

for the rest of us.

Inconvenient?

Why, yes indeed ma'am.

Because of this
Pimpernel chappie...

Your revolutionary guards
suspect anyone

who looks, or even sounds,
remotely English.

Sink me!

This whole revolution of yours
is monstrous intolerable.

Please, don't credit us
with this madness.

The revolution, itself, may have
started as a noble enterprise.

This...

Yet, we did bring
it on ourselves, papa.

We, the French aristocracy,

with all our arrogance
and excesses

I feel my daughter does
our class an injustice.

Most of us are decent men,...
Quite innocent.

It is only a few, who are
guilty of any serious offense.

Yet, the innocent are being
dragged down with the guilty.

There's no reason
given or needed.

Our world is topsy-turvy,
Sir Percy.

Then why do we
look the other way,

and pretend that nothing
is happening?

While brave men, like this
Scarlet Pimpernel,

do our work for us?

Only today, for example,

our friends, the Count
and Countess de Beaulieu

as well as their only son...

No,...not the Beaulieus...

Calm yourself, my dear,

all three were spared
at the last minute,

thanks to the
Scarlet Pimpernel.

Oh, thank heavens.

God bless this Scarlet Pimpernel,
whoever he may be.

Surely, he must be an
angel in disguise.

Amen.

Pull-up, over there.

My dear, Marquis, consider
the offence,

don't you think your
methods are slightly harsh?

That revolutionary seduced
my daughter, Baron de Batz.

Drive on.

I say.

Ahhhh.

Uh.

Ha, ha.

It would seem your friend
is in distress.

To the rescue.

Yours, I believe.

My dear chap.

Ugh.

A little cognac, I think

'i call upon you now

'revenge my wrong.

'Your favors will be measured

'by your rage.'

Marguerite, Marguerite,
it's Armand, he's been hurt.

Hurt?

There's a man outside
with a carriage.

He wants us
to go with him.

What can we do?

We must go
to him, at once.

What about
the rest of the play?

My dear, Louise,

this is the chance every
understudy dreams of.

No, I can't.
I'm not ready!

You'll be superb.

But not too superb,
I trust.

Why can't you-?

Now, to Armand.

Marguerite!

My poor, Armand!

What happened to you?

Two men,
out of the darkness.

If it hadn't been
for this gentleman...

My brother and I are
indebted to you, Monsieur.

Monsieur?

Sir Percy Blakeney, Mademoiselle.

Although, anyone would
have done as much.

If you think that, Monsieur,

you do not know
Paris, well.

Who were these men
that attacked you, my darling.

They were sent by
the Marquis de St. Cyr.

I recognized his carriage.

No doubt, to teach
me a lesson

I thought it might be this.

One day, I will repay
the Marquis for this.

Come, my darling, we'll
get you into bed.

Do you think you can?

Thank you.

I'm quite all right, now.

Rather a harsh lesson.

I trust the offence
warranted the punishment.

My brother is young

and hot-blooded, Monsieur.

His heart too often
leads his head.

I fear he had the impudence

to fall in love with St. Cyr's daughter.

Is love, too, a crime
in France these days?

Only, if the Lady
is an aristocrat,

whose father insolently thinks that
we're bourgeois not fit to breathe

the same air
that they do.

If you will excuse me,
I must tend to my brother.

Wait!

When will I
see you again?

My brother and I

are having a small
soirée at our home

in the Rue de Richelieu

Sunday next-
if you are free.

For such an invitation,
Mademoiselle,

I shall make...myself free.

Sunday, next, then.

Number 27.

Congratulations.

Congratulations, my dear.

You played a great success,
we hear.

Sold out every night.

Isn't it amazing.
I was sure no one would come.

Oh, nonsense.

All kinds adore you.

My dear, haven't
you heard the news?

News?

Everybody's talking
about it.

There were over 20 executions
in the Place de la Greve, today.

Twenty-three,
to be precise.

Paul!

My dear, I've only just been
able to tear myself away.

Oh.

You look so tired.

Come, let's have
some champagne.

You say there were 23
executions today, Chauvelin?

To be precise,

and there will
be more, everyday,

until the Committee
has purged the Republic

of the last
corrupt aristocrat.

Not another speech,
Chauvelin!

This is what I have
to listen to all day now, my dear.

All day?

I'm afraid so.

This young idealist has
just become my assistant.

So he has no choice.

You must be
called Chauvelin.

Chief agent for the
Committee of National Security,

at your service.

Mademoiselle...?

You have the honor
of addressing Louise Longet,

la chantess.

But, of course.

You're Marguerite's
new understudy.

I gather you're responsible
for the arrest and execution

of all these...
Undesirable aristocrats.

That is a small part
of my duties, Mademoiselle.

The other is making long,
boring speeches

at social functions
like this.

Well, now you will have
the opportunity to learn

how to make
boring speeches, too.

Very well, just for this once,
I will overcome my usual

patriotic zeal, and confine myself
to a simple toast to the Republic.

The Republic!

The Republic.

Seems the Baron de Batz does not
share our enthusiasm for the toast.

Perhaps he is not a friend of...
The Republic.

Oh, on the contrary,
my dear Chauvelin,

I may be an Austrian,
by nationality,

and aristocrat by birth,

but I can assure you
that I am

a very good friend
of the Republic.

I believe, rather, that
the Baron is a friend of profit,

willing to sell his allegiance
to the highest bidder.

It would appear, Mademoiselle,
that my presence here

this evening is giving you
distress. I shall cause you no

further embarrassment,
and I shall bid you good evening.

This just shows how
vigilant we must be.

We have to root out
the enemies in our midst.

We never know where
they might strike next.

But, if blood has to
be shed, no one, I promise you

regrets it more than I do.

"The Dauphin is to be held
prisoner in the Temple. St. Cyr."

Ah, there you are.

How could you be so rude?

To de Batz?

He was a guest
in my home.

An unworthy guest.

The man is suspected
of selling secret information

to the Austrian
government.

And why haven't
you arrested him?

Because, my dear, he also
sells secret information,

about the Austrians,
to us.

You've executed
men for less.

Revolutions are
never bloodless.

This brief reign of terror,
will purge the land of all corruption.

And take us
to new heights.

Be careful where it
takes you, Paul.

To a new order.
To the day of glory.

And we will be
proud of it, margarite,

you and I. Just as
we've always dreamed.

And then I will
make you my wife.

And the future
will be ours.

Sir Percy!

Lord, Mademoiselle,
you are even

more beautiful, than I recall.

If that is possible.

Paul, this is the gentleman
who rescued Armand.

Paul Chauvelin, chief agent
of the Committee of National Security.

Sir Percy Blakeney.

It is a pleasure...
Monsieur.

The pleasure, I can
assure you, is all mine.

Monsewer.

Ha, ha, ha.

I must apologize
for me tardiness.

'Twas next to impossible,
finding a carriage.

Sink me, if everyone isn't
so equal in your new society

that no one wants to do
the driving anymore.

I take it, sir, that you do not
approve of our new society?

Approval, sir, in my opinion,
demands the attainment of perfection.

And in that sense,
you rather overrate

the charm of your society.

Faith, for one thing,
it does seem monstrous

ill-dressed for
any society,

even a new one.

Sink me, your tailors
have betrayed you.

Betrayed us? We pride ourselves
on our French tailors.

Odds fish, my dear fellow,
such shoddy workmanship

would not be tolerated in
London for one tiny instant.

Look you here, sir,
at this limp cravat.

I ask you!

Or the sorry cut
of this sleeve.

No, no, no.

Of the sad state
of those cuffs.

Sink me, I can hardly bring
meself to look upon them.

No, no, no, sir.

If this is the best
your tailors can do.

'Twould serve you better
to send them to the guillotine.

We will send
our king, instead, sir,

and exalt our tailors.

More's the pity.

Then your tailors
will rule the land,

and no one will
make the clothes.

So much for
French fashion,

and French politics.

What is it you frenchies say?

Two-shay...,

you see, I'm a bit of a poet,
and you did not know it.

What?

Well, it has been most
amusing, Sir Percy.

But, if you will excuse me,
I have someone I must see inside.

Marguerite, my dear.

You really mustn’t tease
Chauvelin so recklessly.

He's very powerful
in the government.

Already, he's Robespierre's
most trusted agent.

The only power that I
can see at present, Mademoiselle,

is the power...
Of your beauty.

Beauty is in the eye
of the beholder, Sir Percy.

This beholder...
Is enchanted.

If I were to tell you
that I adore you,

would you have me
do so, stintingly?

Adore me?

Or would you have
me declare it as I feel it?

With all my heart.

But you can't be serious.
You know nothing about me.

Exactly so.

Which is why I
yearn to know everything.

You must tell me
all about yourself.

In every detail.

But ever so slowly.

So very slowly.

So that it takes a very...
very long time.

I don't know whether
are mad, or...

Desperately in love.

'Tis all the same.

Tell me if you can...
that you do not feel it?

Please...
you move too fast.

My heart...
dictates the pace.

Good morning, Citizen
Robespierre.

Thank you, St. Cyr.

Chauvelin.

The report informs me,
there may be an attempt

to rescue the royal family,
particularly, the young

Dauphin, heir to the throne.

I shall see to it that
security is tightened at once.

And another thing, there is
one enemy of the Republic

in particular who continues
to elude us, a man we consider

more dangerous than all the
others combined,
the Scarlet Pimpernel.

With all due respect, Citizen,
the man has spared barely

a handful from the guillotine,
out of hundreds.

Surely, we overestimate
his importance.

On the contrary, unchecked
his continued success could

undermine the revolution itself.

Undermine the revolution?

By raising the hopes of
those who are conspiring

to overthrow the Republic
and restore the monarchy.

So you see, Chauvelin,
while this meddlesome

Englishman remains at large
he continues to be a menace.

Needless to say, the man
who brings him to justice

will earn the gratitude
of the nation.

Not to mention, a seat
on the Committee.

He must be stopped, Chauvelin.

I shall see to it
at once, Citizen.

How is out young friend,
Armand St. Just, settling in?

A bit headstrong, perhaps,
but I suspect he'll go far.

Huh, huh, huh.

"You can inform your people,
that the Dauphin is to be

held prisoner in the Temple.
St. Cyr."

Sir Percy Blakeney,
Mademoiselle.

Please, show him in, Annette.

Uh, forgive me...
if I kept you waiting.

Your note did say eleven.

I had a devil
of a time

finding a suitable basket.

A suitable...basket?

Hmm.

I thought...a picnic.

Percy!

Papers.

Papers..if you please.

Sink me.

Surely you recognize the most
beautiful actress in France.

A man would have to be
blind not to recognize

Mademoiselle Marguerite St. Just.

You there!
Make way!
Let this carriage pass!

Careful now.

Ugh!

Are you all right, Lord?

Yes, indeed, many thanks.

Damn the Scarlet Pimpernel!

Now he's made off
with the Duc de Leon.

He has proved most elusive,
Citizen.

A man of many disguises,
but, I now believe

that there is only
one way to catch him.

How to you propose to find
one Englishman among millions.

By simple deduction, Ponceau.
This particular Englishman citizen

manages to pass
himself off as French.

It follows, therefore,
that he comes from that privileged class

brought up by French governesses,
tutored by French instructors,

and perhaps even educated
at a French university.

In a word, the man is
undoubtedly an aristocrat.

And that would explain
his sympathies, and

narrow the field considerably.

I believe that we will shall find him
at the center of social life in London,

and that is where I propose
we track him down.

He does have a point, Ponceau.

While he's in France,
the cunning fox is always on his guard,

but in his own backyard, um?

We shall have you appointed
special envoy to the court of St. James

as soon as possible.
Ponceau will see to the details.

I am deeply honored, Citizen.

Would it not be advisable
if I were to have the assistance

of someone who is already
known to the English?

Someone, whom they trust.

I suspect you already
have someone in mind.

Might I suggest the man
who served our recently

deposed king as ambassador
in London for so long?

I like your sense of irony, Chauvelin.

By all means. The Count de Tourney
would be an ideal choice.

Send young Armand St. Just
to bring him in.

You must not go, Henri.

I assure you, Madame, Citizen
Robespierre merely wishes to

consult with you husband
on a matter of state.

Robespierre?
I'd sooner trust a snake.

You have known me
all my life.

I give you my word,
no harm will come to him.

Well, there. You see, mama?
You have Armand's word of honor.

I shall be back
in time for supper.

Death,
robbing my eyes of light,

will give back to the sun
its tarnished beauty.

Percy?

Percy.

'My beloved, I've had to
return to England urgently.

'Forgive me, I did not have
time to kiss you farewell.

'Your own, Percy.'

Spy?

On my former associates, friends?

You still refuse?

Most emphatically.

You must be mad.

Take him to the Temple.

Perhaps some time in prison
will bring him to his senses.

Andrew, do you want
to double your wager?

Andrew!

Right!

A hundred guineas!

You'll never beat him!

Well, hang on to me tail!

See if you can catch him!

Just you wait!

My goodness, though,
you can do it.

You've been a good
judge of horse flesh.

You're damned right.
That's a hundred guineas,

you owe me, old chap.

Hey, Percy.

There isn't an Englishman
alive, who wouldn't be proud

to join the League
of the Scarlet Pimpernel.

That may be, my friend,
but the greater the number,

the greater the risk
of betrayal.

No, no, my friends, if we
are to succeed

we must maintain
our anonymity.

Mask our identities.

Even if it means suffering
the mockery of others,

being taken for fools,

fops,

nitwits,

even cowards.

Umm. That's the easy part.
The hard part is not being able

to boast about our exploits
to the ladies.

Timmy.

What is it, my dear fellow?

Well, come on,
out with it.

Louis the Sixteenth
has been executed.

The Queen?

Doomed to follow
him to the guillotine.

What news of the
young Dauphin?

The heir to the throne has
been imprisoned in the Temple.

And there's more.

Your friend the Count de Tourney has also
been arrested and taken to the Temple.

His family?

They're still safe
by the last report.

Then there's no
time to lose.

Andrew, I want you to set up
a network of couriers.

We leave for Paris at once.

Deliver this to the captain
of the revolutionary guard

in the Place de la Greve.

Yes, sir.

Can't you see
that I'm busy?

You have arrested
the Count de Tourney.

I have.

On the orders of
Citizen Robespierre.

I gave my word of honor.

May I remind you, that your
first duty is to the Republic

and not to the Count de Tourney
in this hour.

You may go.

My dear Armand.

Such sentiments, especially
on behalf of an aristocrat,

could be easily misinterpreted.

You used me.

Yes, and as long as you are
here to serve the Committee

I shall continue to use you.

Now, boy, deliver this, to the captain
of the Revolutionary Guard

in charge of executions
in the Place de la Greve.

Sir!

Captain.

'Must have more executions,
and proceed with greater dispatch!'

you can tell Citizen Chauvelin,
if he thinks he can do better,

he's quite welcome to come
and try for himself.

Might do him good.
to get some blood

on those lily-white
hands of his.

Ah!

In the name of God,
Monsieur, save me.

I swear I've done
nothing, nothing!

Save your breath, Mademoiselle,
he's one of them that sent you here.

May God have mercy on your soul, Monsieur.
You're surely damned for what you do!

Ahhh, ah!

What is it?
A dream.

A hideous dream.

Someone that you saw executed?

No, it's Marguerite.

It was she they led
to the guillotine.

It was her head
that fell.

Oh, god. Oh my god.
Oh my god.

'You can inform your people that
'the Dauphin is to be held

'prisoner in the Temple.
'St. Cyr.'

My darling!

Marguerite, my dearest.

Paul!

What is it, my dear.
You look as if you'd

seen a ghost?

It's just you took
me by surprise.

What is that you're
hiding behind your back?

I might ask you the same.

You have not right to pry
into my personal affairs.

Even when those personal
affairs smack of treason?

Treason?

Surely, you don't think
I have anything to do with...?

Paul...

I swear I happened upon
this note only by chance.

Why didn't you come
to me with it?

I didn't know what to do.

I think I wanted to be sure
that it was important enough

before I did anything so drastic.

Drastic?

As report it to
the Committee.

My darling Marguerite,
I'm not the Committee.

I'm the man who hopes
one day to marry you.

But you are an agent
of the Committee.

Wouldn't it be your
duty to report it...

My first duty, my dearest,

is to you.

I may not always find
a way to show it.

But I love you.

With all my heart.

I give you my word, I will
never betray your confidence.

Forgive me, Paul.

On the other hand

it is your duty to report
this to me officially.

And then, and only then,
I'll take the appropriate action.

But that could mean
St. Cyr's execution,

and possibly his
family's as well.

He's a traitor.

And can you think of
a better way to repay him

for having your brother beaten?

You can't honestly believe
that I would send a man

and his entire family to
their death out of spite?

They're aristocrats, my dear!

I could never live with myself!

In that case, you may have one day
to answer to the Republic.

Rather the Republic
than my conscience.

You disappoint me.

You've gone soft!

If by that you mean I'm not
bloodthirsty enough for this

revolution of yours,
you're right.

It used to be your
revolution as well.

Yes...

But it's taken us
in different directions.

Perhaps my vision was
never the same as yours.

I see now, what begins as a
dream can end as a nightmare.

Some causes can become warped,
twisted like some men.

It's not difficult to guess
the reason for this sudden

change of heart.

I suspect it's the
aristocratic company

you've been keeping of late.

Why, Paul, I do
believe you're jealous.

Why should I not be?

Well, if it's any consolation,
Sir Percy left for England

a fortnight ago.

Then you don't know.

Know what?

That he's back.

In Paris?

You know, it amazes me

how a woman of your taste
and intelligence could tolerate

such a fool.

And now if you'll excuse me.

I have some duties
to attend to.

Bon-jewer, mon-sewer.

I swear you've been
taking lessons.

The cravat's a picture.

Oh, ugh.

Oh, outta' my way!

You idiot!

Percy!

Percy, Percy!

Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.

I knew you would come back!

My darling!

Well, I'm glad you're
pleased to see me.

It's more than you can
say for your friend, Chauvelin.

Positively no sense of humor.
Must be his diet.

Oh, please, don't be
so flippant, Percy.

Chauvelin is terribly jealous.

He actually frightens me.

Frightens you, my dear.
Nonsense.

I want you to forget, Chauvelin.

Forget every men
you've ever known.

Except me.

How easy that would be.

Sometimes...
You're so... elusive.

Are you an actor, too?

Playing out some
part in a strange charade?

I've told you before, my dear,
the one thing you must never doubt

is my sincerity.

I know behind that mask
hides the true Percy Blakeney.

That's the man
I yearn to know.

And so you shall, my dear.

All in good time.

How long is that?

Marry me,...and you'll have
the rest of your life,...to find out.

Never,

never,

never,

and there is nothing
you can do to me

that will make me change my mind.

That not to you, perhaps,
but I wonder what would

become of all your aristocratic
principles, if you family were

languishing in here, as well?

You wouldn't dare.

You will have until
tomorrow to reconsider.

I intend to warn the
de Tourney family and

help them flee, if necessary.

Now, look here,
my dear fellow.

I did not save your neck
from those thugs of St. Cyr's

merely to see you lose
your head at the guillotine.

What?

My mind is quite
made up, Percy.

I will warn the de Tourneys.
There's no use trying to stop me.

I have no intention...
Of stopping you.

Do you suppose...that you could
get into the Temple prison...

And see the Count...
tonight?

Ugh, well, I...I think so.
But to what purpose?

-I...have a plan.
-Oh...You have a plan.

You, who are practically
incapable of any

thought entering into
you head that is not trivial.

Oh, really, Percy.

-This is serious.
-So am I.

Deadly serious.

We must rescue the de Tourney family,
without risking you.

You can be far more valuable
to us if you keep in with Chauvelin

and continue to work
with the Committee.

Useful to us. What on earth
are you talking about?

You must swear, by
all you hold sacred

that what you are about to hear,
you will not repeat to anyone.

-Really, Percy,...
-Not even Marguerite!

You must be quite mad.

Do you swear?

Very well.

Do you recognize that insignia?

Looks like a flower
of some sort.

Correct.

It is a scarlet pimpernel.

Death to the aristos.

Long live the Republic.

Oh, I am pleased

to see that you have
come to your senses.

-You left me little choice.
-Well, that was the general idea.

You will leave for London
at once. Under guard, of course.

Once there, you will reside
at our French embassy

so you can introduce
me into English society.

-And my family?
-They are to remain in Paris.

Ah. And so my family are
not to be in prison,

they are to be held hostage.

That is the general idea.

Take good care of our friend.

-It's her own mother.
-Who’s is it?

-Always he's in it, the mother, right?
-Yeah

all right.
Fetch me your papers.

Here'ya. He thinks
I'm an aristocrat.

Casks of wine, here, have we?
Right, I'll have a look at those.

I wouldn't do that
if I were you.

Oh, me best bordeaux.

Na, na, don't hurt him Sergeant,
It's only me grandson.

Here'ya, here'ya.

Come here, sergeant.

Here.
A word in your ear, sergeant.

Poor lad, he's got the plague.

Plague.

I told you,
I tried to warn you.

Get him away from here!
Take him away from here!

All right.

Here, take your papers.

All right you are, sergeant, right.

Open the gates!

Papers.
Show me your papers.

Sergeant.

An old woman will
pass this way with a cart.

You are to arrest
her at once.

An old woman just passed
this way five minutes ago.

You let her go!

That was the Scarlet Pimpernel!

Open the gates!

Heh, heh, heh, heh.

Heh, heh.

Everything go as planned?

Like clockwork, Percy.

Good. Well, best be on your way.
It'll be dark, soon.

More than a night's
ride to the coast.

Mademoiselle.

This way, Countess.

Words cannot express
our gratitude, Monsieur.

It is the Scarlet Pimpernel, not I,
who deserves your thanks, Countess.

I was certain that you
were the Scarlet Pimpernel.

I would never presume
to fill those shoes.

I lack sufficient courage.

I have yet to meet
a more courageous cavalier,

or a more handsome one.

Susanne.

It's dangerous.
We must hurry.

Thank you, Monsieur.

You must be very much
like your mother.

I'm an ugly duckling
by comparison.

They say she was the
most beautiful bride in France.

Perhaps it is understandable
after all that the brightest,

the most radiant of women
should marry an utter fool,

when one recalls, that he's also said
to be the richest man in England.

I think you'd better leave.

As you can see,
I am quite busy.

I came to find out what
you have decided to do

about the Marquis de St. Cyr.

That's my affair,
not yours.

No, it is my affair.

As chief agent of the Committee
of National Security

I want to know if you
intend to do your duty

as a citizen and report him.

And if I say no?

Then, I am prepared
to do it for you.

You gave me your word.

Marguerite.
You force my hand.

You have betrayed
my confidence.

It appears that we have
both misjudged one another.

Mr. Bland.
You've got visitors.

Let him rest for a little
more time. Leave him be.

Shut up, woman.

There he is, Baron.

King Louis' little brat
in the flesh.

Heh, heh. What's
the matter?

Your aristocratic
sensibilities offended?

Are they treating you
well, Your Royal Highness?

Well, enough.

Get him up, Duval.
Walk him around.

No, that won't
be necessary.

I've seen all I wish
to see, thank you.

My dear Marquis, there are
guards all over the place.

Positioned here, here, here, here,
here, and this apartment here

houses the couple who
are looking after the Dauphin.

So you see, it would be
humanly impossible

to get the young
boy out of the place.

In the name of the Republic,
open up.

Open in the name
of the Republic

Arrest them both.

What's the meaning
of this?

I have an order for the
arrest of the Marquis de St. Cyr.

One moment captain.

One moment.

I think you'd better
have a look at this.

A certificate of immunity.

You are the Baron de Batz?

Precisely.

Signed, as you can see,
by Citizen Fouquet, himself.

Release the man.

I demand to know
the charge.

Treason.

Treason, who accuses
me of treason?

I will have his name!

See for yourself.

It's written
on the warrant.

Marguerite St. Just?

But I...I hardly
know the woman.

I will.

I will.

I Percy, take thee,
Marguerite, to my wedded wife.

I, Marguerite, take thee,
Percy, to my wedded husband.

With this ring,
I thee wed.

This gold and silver,
I thee give.

With my body,
I thee worship.

With all my worldly
goods, I thee endow.

In the name of the father,
and of the son,

and of the holy ghost,
amen.

We're off to London
in the morning.

Isn't it wonderful?

Armand follows
in a few days

few days?

Naturally, Chauvelin is
anxious to assume his new

post as special envoy.

Look at her, Tony.

Tell me if you can,
that I'm not the most

fortunate man alive.

How they buzz round her,
like bees to honey.

Poor Louise, things were
all of that then to England.

Huh? Well, I have asked
her to come along

and be my wife.

And give up a perfectly
marvelous career?

Don't you dare, my dear.
He's not worth it.

What are you going to do
about Citizen Robespierre's

demand for action?

The de Tourneys
are lost to us.

I think I may have
found an excellent

replacement for
the Count de Tourney.

Perhaps, even, an
improvement.

In Marguerite St. Just?

In the wife of Sir Percy
Blakeney, Baronet.

Every door in London
will be open to her.

Every confidence shared.
Every secret known.

She isn't aware of it yet, Ponceau,
but Lady Blakeney is going

to lead me to our elusive friend
the Scarlet Pimpernel.

I've never seen her
looking happier.

As well she might.

On the same day she
marries the man she loves,

have her revenge
on the man she hates.

- The man she hates, Baron?
- The Marquis St. Cyr.

For what he did
to her brother.

And what manner of revenge
might she have had on the Marquis?

Well, having him arrested
for treason, of course.

What leads you to believe
that my wife was

involved in that?

Oh, come, Sir Percy, you
need have no pretenses with me.

I saw the warrant for his
arrest with my own eyes.

Phew! I can't believe it!

You wife's name was on it.

For which we have
no doubt about it.

After all, I am a man
of extreme discretion.

Percy, don't...

The man will be
guillotined for this.

My dear, Sir Percy,
have you not heard?

The Marquis de St. Cyr
and his entire family

were beheaded this
very morning.

All of them?

The children as well?

Well...well, yes.

Sir Percy, I...I'd actually
assumed that you knew about this.

Well, I thought that...

Excuse me.

I'm truly sorry.

She must never know

that I suspect
any of this.

We are about to embark
upon the most dangerous

mission yet.

To save the heir of the
throne of France.

From this moment on

she must never be trusted.

We cannot risk betrayal.

I only pray to God that
I can conceal from her

the horror I feel
at what she has done.

Attention!

There's a good boy.

Now you take your medicine.
Say your prayers

for the nice gentlemen.
Then you can go back to bed.

What manner of medicine
are you giving him?

Never fear, Citizen, it's
good, strong cognac.

Now take it boy.

You know, it makes
papa Duval very angry

if you don't finish
every drop.

There, that is
more like it!

Now these gentlemen
would like to hear

you say your catechism.

- Your name:
- Louis Charles Capet.

Let's hear it:
Louis Charles Capet.

Your age:
Eight.

Your nationality:
Citizen of the Republic of France.

Your father's name:
Louis Capet.

His profession:
Former king, tyrant and debaucher.

How did he perish:
By the will of the people.

Who was your mother:
Marie Antoinette of Austria.

Her profession:
Former queen and whore.

How did she perish:
By the will of the people.

And what do you say
to their memories:

- I spit upon their graves.
- Again,

- I spit upon their graves.
- Again!

That will do.

However, I still detect
a trace of defiance

in those royal eyes.

Keep at it, Fouquet.
He must be all ours.

Sink me,
what is the time?

We shall be monstrous
late at his highness'

garden party.

I'm afraid I can't join
you Percy, I must get back

to the embassy.
Chauvelin is expecting me.

- What news of the courier?
- None

odd.
You made inquiries?

It's too difficult.
Chauvelin is becoming

suspicious of everyone
at the embassy, including me.

You have performed
an invaluable service

to us these past few
months, Armand.

Without you, we would not have
had any idea as to boy's fate.

When I think what they're
doing to that child!

Why?
What do they have to gain by it?

To render him useless to anyone
who might try and rescue him.

But time is running out. We must
act soon, or they will succeed.

Have you a plan?

We wait only for first the news
of any change in the boy's routine.

That will be our
signal to move.

And move we must.

Swiftly and surely.

That is why these communiqués
from Paris are so crucial.

The next may be our signal.

Ahhhhh,
my dear.

Shall we away?

The Duke and Duchess
of Radnor.

The Duke of Albany
and his daughters.

Lady Breckny and
Lady Darlington.

Sir Percival and
Lady Blakeney.

They say, she only married
him for his money.

No woman of title would
have the idiotic fop.

Still they seem...
Quite a happy couple.

Looks can be
deceiving, my dear.

Percy, fashionably
late as usual.

Sink me, Your Highness.
'Twas this damnable cravat.

Simply refused to tie.

I ask you. Look at the thing.
Stickin' out like a pin cushion.

I might have known, it
would be something serious.

My husband is being noble,
Your Highness,

I fear I'm the one to blame.

Well, in that case,
all is forgiven.

Now then,

how fares our lovely
fugitive from France?

Fugitive, Your Highness?
Say, rather captive.

Surely you're not kept
here by force, Madame.

Why, yes indeed. By the force of
my abiding love for my husband,

and by Your Highness' good
favors and generosity.

Gad, Percy, but
I envy you.

You'd better keep an eye
on her, otherwise I might

exercise my droit de seigneur,
and steal her away.

Marguerite, Percy!
You'll never guess!

Andrew has asked
me to marry him

and papa has
given his consent.

Sink me, if you didn't
go and do it.

- Congratulations, old chap.
- Thanks

Oh, Suzanne, I'm so
happy for you.

Suzanne!
I forbid you to have anything

to do with that woman.

Mama!
What are you saying?

She has blood
on her hands.

We have just learned
that she denounced

the Marquis de St. Cyr,
and sent him and his

- entire family to the guillotine!
- My dear Countess, you really mustn't...

Can you deny it, Lady Blakeney?

I refuse to confirm
or deny such accusations.

This is no trail,
and you are not judge.

True, Madame.
God will be your judge.

- Will you say nothing, sir?
- Faith, Madame what is there to say?

Will you not even defend
your wife's honor?

Odds fish, my dear, would you
have me challenge the poor

Countess to a duel?

- Come Countess.
- The music is about to start.
- Please

So, my dear, 'twould seem
you finally found a way

to repay St. Cyr...
after all.

Can you really believe that?

Can I...believe otherwise?

Oh, Suzanne,...What can I do?
I've lost my husband's love

and I don't know why.

But Percy worships the
ground you walk on.

Once, perhaps.

But now he plays the fool
in private as well as in public.

Almost as if to torment me.

There are times...when I think
that he still loves me.

Moments when I catch it
in his eyes, a look, a glance.

What have I done to
deserve his disdain?

Goodnight, my dear.

Pleasant dreams.

Stay with me tonight.

Odd, Madame,
far too fatigued.

Besides, I have a very early
appointment in London, tomorrow.

I don't want to
disturb you.

Your tailors, no doubt.

Boot makers, to be precise.

These pinch something monstrous.

And I don’t' much
care for the buckle.

Oh, Percy, what's become of you?

Where is the man I married.

Odds fish, my dear,
you're lookin' at him.

No. What I see before me
is a facade.

The shell of a man I once knew.

There's some absurd role
you're playing. I don't know why.

But I'm sure it is. Perhaps
to keep the world at a distance

even though you're
shutting me out as well.

You once promised me, that
I should come to know

the man behind the mask,
in time.

I know him less now
than I did then.

Well. Perhaps there's
no more to know.

I can't believe that.

I refuse to believe it.

The man I fell in love with
still exists somewhere.

I shall never stop
loving him...Never.

Goodnight, my dear.

For Sir Andrew, Chivers.

Very good, sir.

And for the courier,
when he arrives.

Yes sir.

These were all the papers
in the courier's pouch?

Yes, Citizen.

So.

My young assistant

is in league with the Scarlet Pimpernel,
is he?

You did well to
intercept the courier.

Send for Armand St. Just.

I fear for you in Paris.

Oh, Percy, do persuade him
to give up his post and stay here.

He could send for Louise,
they could get married

and live here in England.

What a dreadful prospect.

What has poor Armand done
to be condemned to matrimony?

Really, Percy. Must you go
on tormenting her like this?

Are you never going to give her
a chance to explain herself?

Consider, Armand, if it is true
that she betrayed St. Cyr,

she's capable of almost
any treachery.

Even spying for Chauvelin.

You must ask her. What proof
have you in any of this?

Not once in all the
time she's been in England

has even attempted
to contact Chauvelin.

I dare not risk it.

Nothing, no one, is more
important then the rescue

of the Dauphin
at this moment.

Not even Marguerite.

It grieves me to
see her so unhappy.

To know that you
have ceased to love her.

Ceased?

I shall love her
till the day I die.

That is the tragedy.

Come, I shall ride
with you to Dover

there is much
to talk about.

Why is Chauvelin sending
you to Paris now?

I don't like it.

However, perhaps with you
in Paris we can create the

incident we need
to make our move.

Well, this is indeed
a surprise.

Not too unpleasant, I trust?

I haven't seen you
since you came to London.

What brings you here now?

It's a good likeness.

Especially the eyes.

He's caught the flash
and fire of the eyes.

Although, he's missed
the sadness.

Sadness?

Apparently the artist
has not perceived

what all of London
has already guessed.

And what might
that be?

That the Lady is
unhappy in her marriage.

A man in your position
should not listen to gossip.

Look at me and tell me,
that you husband is

man enough to
make you happy?

Have you come here
to be impertinent?

If the truth is impertinent.

You're a woman of great passion.
You deserve a man who can satisfy

your desires.

Huh, and you are suggesting
that you are such a man?

I was good enough
for you once.

Never quite good enough.

Now, kindly state
your business.

Or was it your business
to seduce the wife of

Sir Percy Blakeney?

In truth, I came
to enlist your aid.

To help me learn the
true identity of

the Scarlet Pimpernel.

The Scarlet Pimpernel?

Well, you astonish me.
Where in the world

would I learn
such a thing?

You are the pivot
of social London.

You go everywhere.
You see everything.

And hear everything.

Easy, my friend, are you
asking me to spy for you?

No...for France.

Oh! What you propose
is deplorable!

Whoever the man may be,
he's brave, noble and compassionate.

You refuse, then?

Did you really believe,
that I would help you,

after you maliciously
implicated me in the death

of the Marquis and his family?

I would rather go to
your beloved guillotine.

Would you have your
brother go in your place?

Armand, what a joke.

He is in league with
the Scarlet Pimpernel.

Why that's preposterous.

I have here irrefutable proof,
and I will use it,

unless you do your
duty and cooperate.

This is blackmail.

Call it what you will.
I will have the Scarlet

Pimpernel's head
or your brother's!

Consider carefully.

I expect your
decision this evening,

at the Lord Grenville's ball.

In the meantime, I advise
you to keep silent.

Say nothing of this
to anyone.

Not even to that fool
you call your husband!

Forgive me, if I startled
you, Madame.

I must have been
daydreaming.

How lovely you look.

How long has it been
since you've noticed me at all.

Lord, Madame, I'd have
to be blind not to notice.

In that gown, you'll be
the belle of the ball.

Now, tell me, what was it
you were dreaming about,

when I came in just now?

Percy, you've known Sir Andrew
for a long time, haven't you?

We went to school
together, Madame.

Why do you ask?

I was just wondering if he
might not be the Scarlet Pimpernel.

Andrew?
The Scarlet Pimpernel?

Most unlikely, my dear.

But, tell me, why the sudden
interest in the identity of

the Scarlet Pimpernel?

Oh, I have no more interest
than any other woman in London.

I wager your friend, Chauvelin,
would give a great deal to know.

I'faith, I suspect that's the
reason he came to England.

I'm surprised he hasn't
confided as much.

To you, my dear.

To me?

Why, I haven't laid eyes on
the man since he arrived.

Although, I'm sure
you are right.

Well, if anyone's going to
catch the Scarlet Pimpernel

it will not be Chauvelin.

And why is that?

Why? Odds fish, my dear, the man
can't even tie his own cravat.

Really, Percy, is that
all you think about?

Why aren't you the kind of man
a woman can look up to?

Turn to in trouble.

Trouble, my dear?

Are you in trouble?

And if I were?

Why you might try
confiding in me,

as once you used to.

What's the use.

We don't even speak the
same language anymore.

Pardon, Madame.

- The courier?
- Murdered.

- Come with me, Chivers.
- Yes, sir.

There can be no doubt
Chauvelin knows about Armand.

He must be warned.

I want you to take this note
to Lord Dewhurst, at once.

Tell him to give it to
Sir Andrew at the ball,

and then destroy it.

His Royal Highness,
the Prince of Wales.

Sir Percival Blakeney
and Lady Blakeney.

- Your Royal Highness.
- Lady Granville.

Of course you know
Sir Percy and Lady Blakeney,

Lord and Lady Granville.

My daughters, Elizabeth
and Alice Ellen.

Charming. Really,
quite charming.

Oh, continue, please continue.

Ah, the two lovebirds, at last.

- Countess.
- Yes, you must have some champagne.

Isn't it exciting!

Andrew, here.

I shall expect you to dance
every dance with me.

I must preserve at least
one dance for him.

Thank you.

Sink me, I'm far too embarrassed.

If you insist.

The Scarlet Pimpernel.
By Sir Percival Blakeney, Baronet.

No, no, that's just the title.

They seek him h'yere.

They seek him there.

Those frenchies
seek him everywhere.

Is he in heaven?

Or is he in...Hell?

That damned, elusive, pimpernel.

Oh, this is commendable, Percy.
It really is most commendable.

I don't know how you did it.

The pretty thing rhymes in
four places, don't you see?

And if a rhyme rhymes,
it makes a poem.

If you follow me.

As it were crystal clear,

my dear!

May it please Your Royal Highness,

your Graces, my Lords,
ladies and gentlemen,

pray take your places
for the minuet.

Lady Blakeney,

would you do me
the honor.

With your permission.

Don't forget Monsieur Chauvelin,
the gigue is mine.

The French are
such superb dancers. Heh, heh.

Have you made
your decision?

You leave me little choice.

What do you
want me to do?

Your friend Sir Andrew Ffoulkes
has a note tucked in his sleeve.

Find out what it says.

But, how?

I leave that to your
ingenuity as a consummate actress.

You know, you really
should be dancing with her

yourself, my dear fellow.

You'll forgive me, sir,
but I do find the minuet

rather tedious.

In that case, what about
that game of hazard

you promised me?

Splendid, but I must
warn you, sir.

I do feel devilish
lucky tonight.

Damnation, uh, huh.

Pray, take your places
for the allemande.

You mustn’t monopolize him,
Suzanne, otherwise everyone

will think you're
afraid he'll stray.

Come along, Andrew.

Whew! Oh!
Ah.

Are you all right?

Marguerite!

I think it's just the heat.

Oh!

Thank you, Andrew.

I don't know what came over me.

Perhaps I'll fetch Percy.

No, don't leave me.

I only need to close
my eyes for a moment or two.

Ahhhh.

How clever of you.

Um, almost as good
as a burnt feather for giddiness.

There!

I almost feel
better already.

- Oh, dear.
- Oh!

Let me do it.

There's no harm done.

One moment more, and I might
have known the Lady's name.

Lady?

Or a Duchess, perhaps?

For shame, Andrew.

Entertaining love notes
from secret admirers

behind Suzanne's back.

What will she say?

There was only a fragment
left by time I got at it.

Could you make
anything out?

It said, 'we leave for
France tonight.

Meet me in the library at midnight
for you instructions.'

and the signature?
How was it signed?

Not signed.

It was only the symbol
of a small flower.

The Scarlet Pimpernel.

In the library,
at midnight.

You've done well,
my dear,

very well, indeed.

Remarkable, how we
complement each other.

But then we always did.

So this is where
you're hiding.

You promised me
the next gigue,

you naughty boy.

Forgive me, my dear.
I shall return him shortly.

Who's there?

Do not turn around.

You must not
turn around.

The Scarlet Pimpernel.

How did you know
I was here?

I tricked Sir Andrew
and read your note.

Why did you come?

To warn you.

Chauvelin knows that you'll
be in this room at midnight.

You told him?

I had to.

To save my brother.

He threatened to have
Armand arrested unless

I helped him to discover
your identity.

Why are you doing
this now?

Because I could never live
with myself knowing

that I was responsible
for your death.

What is one
more life to you?

You already have the Marquis de
St. Cyr and his family to your credit.

That's not true!

Chauvelin deceived me,

because I spurned
him for another.

He maliciously put my name
on the arrest warrant as informer.

I could never have sent the Marquis
and his family to their deaths,

any more than I can now let you die

because of me.

If this is true, you are
a very brave woman

for coming here.

I'm a fool.

If Chauvelin founds out,
it could cost my brother's life.

No harm will ever
come to your brother,

as long as I live.

Can I believe that?

I give you...my word.

I don't even know
who you are.

Won't you tell me?

A phantom, my Lady,
nothing more than a phantom.

No. You're very
real to me.

As real as life itself.

How strongly close
you feel to me.

We are so near,
I can feel your warmth.

Touch me,

so that I may know
that you are real.

Chauvelin!

He must not
find you here.

Quickly.
The window.

But, what's to keep...

Damn!

Percy!

What happened?

What was Chauvelin after?

He was looking for
the Scarlet Pimpernel.

I pray he found a fool.

But now we must take
greater care than ever.

Tony, we sail
for France tonight.

Armand's life
is in danger.

But what of
the rest of us?

I shall send word the moment
it is safe for you to join us.

My yacht is
anchored at Dover,

and we must sail
with the tide.

Uh, what shall
I tell Marguerite?

Tell her I love her,
more than ever.

Paul, you're leaving.

Does that mean
you're satisfied?

I could not be more
delighted, my dear.

I sail tomorrow for France,
where I shall finish the

Scarlet Pimpernel
once and for all.

Then you found out what
you wanted to know?

Everything.

Oh, by the way, my dear,
I found this in the library.

How careless of you
to have dropped it.

Paul, what about
our bargain?

Oh, you'll have your
brother back alive

only when I have caught
the Scarlet Pimpernel,

here or in France.

Think twice before you
interfere again.

Chivers!
Where's Sir Percy?

I must speak to
him at once.

He's gone, my Lady.

Gone? Where to?

There's a note for you
in the library.

In the north country?
In the middle of the night?

How bizarre.

The Scarlet Pimpernel.

Percy.

Oh, God, what have I done?

She mollycoddles the boy.

A pillow for his royal head.
Shoes for his royal feet!

Next she'll be turning over
the crown to the little brat!

What can you expect
from a woman, Citizen St. Just?

Ha, ha, she's soft in the head.

But I can assure you Madame
Duval is as trustworthy

as her husband.

Trustworthy?
Ha.

I'm not so sure either
is trustworthy.

I hear the man is in debt,
and that makes him

ripe for bribery.

Bribery?

Well, those bent on
rescuing the boy,

would be willing
to pay handsomely.

Duval and his wife
will be replaced

- as soon as possible.
- Come on.

Very wise.

Death, robbing my eyes
of light, will give back to the sun

it's untarnished purity!

A word, my friend.

Ah, will it wait?

- Mademoiselle Longet...
- I have received information,

that Chauvelin has sent
a secret communiqué

from London concerning you.

Concerning me?

Chauvelin knows that you
are in league with

the Scarlet Pimpernel.

I? In league with
the Scarlet Pimpernel?

Oh, really, Baron, someone
has been teasing you.

Ah, you're playing a very
dangerous game,

Monsieur Armand St. Just.

Now, why not tell your
Scarlet Pimpernel to leave

the rescue of the Dauphin
to the French loyalists?

After all, they have a
far more legitimate claim

to him than
the English have.

If I knew the identity
of the Scarlet Pimpernel,

and I do not,
he would laugh in my face.

He must know you want
the boy for yourself.

I?

So that you can collect
the gold that awaits

you in Vienna, when you
deliver the heir to the

French throne
to your Austrian friends.

Hm?

And did the Scarlet Pimpernel
tell you that?

Of course not.
He's not even in Paris.

Thank you for your
word of warning, Baron.

And now, if you will
excuse me,

I don't like to keep
Mademoiselle Longet waiting.

Open, in the name
of the Republic.

The very idea.
Disturbing decent citizens

with all that noise.

Where is Mademoiselle Longet?

Where else would she
be at his ungodly hour?

In her boudoir.

Why, it's Alfonse Ponceau!

Forgive me my dear,
but he insisted.

That's quite all right,
Aunt Lulu.

Monsieur Ponceau and I
are old friends.

It's a trifle early for a
social call, Monsieur.

This is not a social
call, Mademoiselle.

I am here to arrest
the man in your boudoir.

Oh, there must be
some mistake.

Ha, ha, arrest!
Citizen St. Just!

The warrant was signed
by Citizen Chauvelin, himself,

when he returned from
London this very morning.

He means to arrest his own
superior? A man as important as

Citizen Robespierre?

Superior?

Did you say you were here
to arrest Louis St. Just?

Louis St. Just? I am
to arrest Armand St. Just.

See here.

Oh, that explains it.
The gentleman in my boudoir

is not Armand St. Just, but
Louis, his distinguished cousin.

Do you mean to say in that room,
at this moment, sleeps one of the most

powerful men in France?

Well, unless all the fuss has
disturbed him, shall I go...

No. No. No. No. No.
Why disturb the good citizen

if he's asleep. I'll just
leave, quietly.

No need even to mention
this little incident.

Such a busy man. So many
important things on his mind.

Please, , just forget I was here,
a silly misunderstanding,

that's all.

Come along, you idiots.

You were wonderful.

When he realizes his mistake
he'll be back.

You must leave Paris immediately.

Not without you.
You're coming with me to England.

Be ready at midday tomorrow,
and I'll return to fetch you then.

It's too dangerous.
They'll be watching the house.

Meet me at the theater.
Now go!

No. Not that way.
They'll be watching the house.

Go to the roof.

Till midday.

Imbecile! Louis St. Just
is as celibate as a monk.

I doubt if he's slept with
his own wife in ten years.

She's taken you for
the fool you are.

I shall return at once
and make the arrest.

Oh, he's long gone
by now.

- But the...
- I'll handle this myself.
- But he...
- Ponceau
- but I really...
- Get out!

Go to the residence
of Mademoiselle Longet,

inform me the minute
Armand St. Just shows his face.

Armand St. Just.

Duval, the Dauphin's jailor, and
his wife will be replaced tomorrow.

So...at long last,
we can make our move,

thanks to you, my dear Armand.

Now listen carefully.

The boy will be brought
to the rendezvous point

outside Paris...here,

where Armand will be waiting,
precisely at midday.

The timing is crucial.

One slip...and we can have
half the revolutionary

force of France on our heels.

From there, he will be
taken to the transfer point,

where Tony will be
waiting with the horses.

Tony takes him on
to Mont St. Pierre,

whilst you ride
on to Calais.

You bring the yacht...
to the rendezvous point...here.

Where you wait.

Only until the boy
is safely on board.

And then on the
first available tide

sail for England.

Where you, my dear Armand, must stay.
It is no longer safe for you in Paris.

Ugh! Is it safe for
any of us?

You took an oath of
unquestioning obedience

when you joined us.

But I gave my word to Louise!

It is your word to the
League that concerns me now.

Percy, let me go back
and bring her to England.

Out of the question.

How can you be
so unfeeling?

You don't even know
the meaning of love.

You must learn
to trust me, my friend.

Do not trouble you head
with thoughts of Louise.

I will see
that she is safe.

Will you bring her
back to England?

I give you my word.

Now. Get some rest.

By the way. You're wrong
about my not knowing

the meaning of love...
Quite wrong.

I should never have
allowed you to come along.

It's far too dangerous.

I would gladly face any
danger to save Percy.

I love him more than life itself.
I know that now.

I can only pray that
I'm doing the right thing.

Had you hesitated, he would
surely have gone to the guillotine.

Look, Calais.

We'll land my nightfall.

Aren't you going to stop him?

No.

Ride.

Giddy-up

Tyrone.
Tyrone!

Tyrone, take care
of that tray.

That belonged to
my grandmother.

Citizen, Tyrone, to you, eh?

This way.

Well, they're now
welcome to the brat.

Huh, let's see how
long the next man lasts.

Come on, let's get outta here.

What about the rest
of our furniture?

Ah, the lackey'l manage.
You've given 'em the gate pass

and the address?

Uh, yeah, I know, I know.

Rue de Beck St. Clair...

Now, you make sure
you get there 'fore dark.

Aw right, aw right.

Hi! Up!

As soon as the lackey
has the apartment clear,

you and your wife can
move you things in, Citizen Journo.

Well, make way, then, make way.

Madame Duval's precious
china, this is, yeah.

Giddap, then.

These will be your
quarters,

and in here
you'll find the brat.

I warn you.
He's a handful.

You leave him to me
and my Mrs.

He'll toe the line,
he will.

Papers.

This pass is signed
by Citizen Fouquet.

The governor of
the Temple prison!

The very same, Sergeant.
The very same.

Right.
Pass!

Gates!

...specific instructions
to inform me if there's

any change
in the jailors.

On my word, Citizen.
He was sleeping like a babe

the last time I looked in.

Just as he is now.
Look for yourself.

What prompted you
to make this sudden change?

Well, when I received
your warning about Duval.

I gave no warning.

St. Just.
Open that door.

I said open it!

Ugh.

Would you like
to see some magic?

Huh?

All right, then.

Watch this.

Hah. Hah.

Uh huh.

Let that be a lesson
to you, sir.

Never take anyone
for granted.

Gates!

Clear the way!

Down on the floor, sir.

We are in for a run.

Giddap!

Oh!

Right. Spread out and
search the woods,

they can't have
gone far.

They must have
crossed the river

search the other side.

Good god, man,
hold your fire!

Percy.

I've had my fair
share for one day.

You must take the boy
on to Mont St. Pierre.

Find some way to notify
the captain of my ship

that the plans
have changed.

Meanwhile I'll
return to Paris.

My dear chap, you can't
possibly...

Armand didn't arrive.

He must be in trouble.

I cannot desert him now.

Right, Percy.

And up.

God speed, Your Highness.

What do you want?

A gentleman asked
me to give you this.

Tell him it's safe
to come in.

She says it's safe.

Thank you.

Quickly, Monsieur,
come with me.

In there.

Mademoiselle Longet.

Please forgive him,
Sir Percy.

No matter.

I too understand
the strength of love.

Good day, Sir Percy.

I realized that your
noblesse oblige would not

permit you to abandon
one of your men.

I'm sorry, Percy.

Sink me,
if you aren't right,

for a change.

But then, two no account
fellows like us

in exchange for
one royal prince

would seem to be
a fair exchange,

don't you think?

Amazing, how a mere lad
can slip through your

fingers so easily.
Huh?

- I'll wager, there'll
be the devil to pay,

when your Committee
of National Security

discovers that he left
the country.

Oh, has he left the country?
My understanding was

there was some problem
in getting away.

No. No. No. It's done like this.
Now's your chance!

Very foolish, Sir Percy.

Gad, sir, nobless oblige.

Lady Blakeney.
What a delightful surprise.

I seriously doubt that.

I had heard, unofficially
of course, that you were in Paris.

Please, won't you take a seat?

I shall make this brief.

I'm here on behalf of my husband.
This is a petition of clemency,

signed by the Prince of Wales.

No, unless you wish me to
take it to Robespierre, himself.

I demand that you let
me see my husband at once.

There's no need for all that.

You had but to ask.

You have a visitor.

Marguerite.

Alone, as you promised.

Two minutes.

Remember my conditions.

Oh, my darling!

How I prayed
you would come.

My darling, can you ever
forgive me for doubting you?

Oh, it is I who must
beg your forgiveness.

Chauvelin says he will
release you if you

tell him the Dauphin's
whereabouts.

If not...
Oh, Percy, I couldn't bear

to lose you now.

He knew that your tears
would be the worst

possible torture.

Tell them.

Tell them what they
want to know.

My darling, I cannot.

You must not ask me.

Then we must find a way
to get you out of

this dreadful place.

There may be a way.

Now listen carefully.

There's not enough time
to repeat anything.

The life of the Dauphin
and all my men may depend

on your ability to
execute my orders

to the letter.

Quickly, put this on.

You will need it in order
to carry out my instructions.

Who would have imagined
that one day I would be

in league with the
Scarlet Pimpernel.

I was so sure he wanted
the boy for England.

He wants the boy to live.

And you are now the
only guarantee of that.

These orders will release
the Dauphin to your custody.

Deliver them to Lord
Anthony Dewhurst,

at the island fortress
of Mont St. Pierre.

After that, you have
until tomorrow nightfall

to get the boy
across the border.

Huh, but, I need more
time than that.

There are arrangements to be made.
The drive's long and hot.

Tomorrow at nightfall.
I can offer you no more.

At last you're talking sense.

One condition,
my dear Chauvelin.

My wife, her brother and
all my men must be

guaranteed safe conduct
back to England.

As soon as
I have the boy.

Where is he?

I'm afraid I cannot
tell you that.

I must lead you to
him personally.

My men will only release
him in exchange for me.

Agreed.

A little matter
of loyalty, you understand.

Of course.

One other matter.

A change of linen, perhaps.

He takes you for
a fool, Chauvelin.

My dear Fouquet, if it
becomes inevitable

that I should take
a ride on the tumbrel

I can assure you that I
intend to go properly dressed.

He can scheme
all he likes.

Guard!

Hostages?
How noble you are.

You are not the only
one to scheme, Sir Percy.

You and I will travel together.
They will follow in the coach behind.

Any trickery, my friend,
and they die.

All I ask is,
that you lead me to the boy.

Baron de Batz, my Lord.

Louis!

Your Highness,

this gentleman is
the Baron de Batz.

He's going to take
across the northern frontier

and from there
into Austria.

Your Royal Highness.

You have many friends
in my country,

who will help you to
reclaim the throne

which has been so
cruelly denied you.

Come.

I wish you both
a safe journey.

Godspeed!

Citizen!

Take half you men and go on ahead.
Signal if all is well.

Yes, Citizen.

You men, follow me.

Two birds with one stone.

The Dauphin and
the Scarlet Pimpernel.

My seat on the Committee
of National Security is assured.

Thanks to your primitive
sense of nobless oblige.

Primitive? My dear Chauvelin.
I shall take it any day

over your new order.

A signal from the fortress,
Citizen. All's clear.

Thank you, corporal.

You and your men remain here.
Make sure that nobody leaves

the island without me.

If I'm not back within the hour.
Come in and fetch me.

Yes, Citizen.

Onward, driver!

Gone? What do you mean,
they've gone?

That's just it, sir, the boy, the
Scarlet Pimpernel's men, all flown.

This man says he may have
overheard what was happening.

Then where have they gone?
Speak up.

To take the boy across
the southern frontier into Spain,

and thence to England.
England.

Just as I thought.

This is your doing.

Take this spy into the
courtyard and execute

him at once.

No!

I have only one last
request, Chauvelin.

Yes.

Spare my wife.

Allow her to go free.

Oh, she will be free,
but only after you are dead.

Take him away.

No please!

Let me die with you.

My darling. What I am
about to do is for the best.

Trust me.

This one last time.

Without question.

I shall be back, my dear
Chauvelin. I shall return

to haunt you.

Detail, left turn.
Forward!

Detail...halt!

Face front.

Ready.

Aim!

Fire, damn you, fire.

Fire!
Percy!

Captain.

Sir.

Take these two prisoners
back to their coach.

Yes, sir.

They will be returned to Paris.
There to be tried and executed

for treason.

I'm...not afraid
to die, Chauvelin.

But you gave your word
that Marguerite would go free.

But an oath to a scoundrel
is meaningless.

Sink me, I couldn't
agree more.

No, no, no, my dear Chauvelin.
Never fear. You are not looking

upon a ghost.

But allow me to introduce
your soldiers:

Lord Anthony Dewhurst,

Sir Andrew Ffoulkes,

Lord Timothy Hastings,

and the League
of the Scarlet Pimpernel.

Something tells me, that
you're wondering what happened

to the men you
sent on ahead.

Hmm?

Voila.

I'm surprised, my dear
Chauvelin, that you didn't

notice their ill-fitting uniforms.

But then fashion never
was your forte...Was it?

But why this charade,
this mock execution?

My dear chap, I never would
of dreamt of depriving you

of your moment of triumph.

Alas, a moment was
all I could spare.

- My congratulations
to you, Sir Percy.

As always everything
planned down to the last detail.

Only this time, you have
overlooked one little thing.

There is no way off this island
except back over the causeway.

And if you care to look
out of that window,

you will see my men,
my own men, standing guard.

Sink me.

So they are.

But then, if you would care
to look out of that window,

you would see me yacht,
the Daydream, waiting just

offshore to take Lady
Blakeney, Armand and

my men safely back
to England.

My hat is off to you,
Sir Percy.

You've done it again.

Percy!

A gentleman...Always...
Removes his coat!

Stand away!

This pleasure...
Is all mine.

Huh.

Huh.

Huh.

Ugh.

Oh!.

Uhh.

Ugh!

Well, finish it off, man,
or do you lack the courage?

I always like to give a man

a sporting chance.

Oh, the English, and their
stupid sense of fair play.

Exactly so!
My dear Chauvelin.

Which is why I think,

in your case, fair play...
To leave your fate...

in the hands of Robespierre
and his Committee.

Take him away,

and strip him.

I shall need to style his
garments to persuade the

guard at the causeway that
I am Citizen Chauvelin, lui meme.

You're not going away.
I won't let you.

My darling, I must.
I promised Armand that I would

bring Louise
safely back to England.

Not this time.
I will pose as Chauvelin,

and go to Paris
in your place.

Perhaps in this small way

I may
atone for my mistakes.

No, neither of you are going.
It's too dangerous.

Percy, you mustn't
let him do it.

- Sir.

Your wardrobe.

Aha.

I will confess. This is one
role that I was loathe to play.

The honor, my dear Armand,
is all yours.

Godspeed, my friend.

To Paris, corporal,

as quickly as possible.

Very good, Citizen Chauvelin.

- He's safely away, Percy.

Then prepare to
board the Daydream.

We sail...for England.

They seek him here,
they seek him there,

those frenchies
seek him everywhere.

Is he in heaven?

Or is he in hell?

My own, elusive, Pimpernel.

Sink me, the lady's a poet.