Original subtitles

THE ROGUE'S BANQUET

Stop being childish, miss.

I command you to get back in the carriage,

as befits a person of your standing.

I want you to marry, and so it will be!

You want me to be sold, you mean!

To a pimp as rich as he is ugly.

Who do you think you are?

Who gives you the right to question my authority?

Clémence de Villerbois de Martence,

daughter of Louis-Charles de Villerbois,

a penniless Marquis and risky speculator, down on his luck.

Clémence! Come back! Clémence!

Go! Go! Faster!

Slow down!

Help! Help!

Slower! Slower!

Careful! Careful!

Well madam, you nearly broke some bones there.

Considering my fate, breaking bones is the least of my worries.

Whatever the gravity, nothing betrays your most admirable self.

But sir... who are you?

Signor Giaccomo Petracci,

descended from the nobility of Sienna.

Do you ride alone on such an unsafe road?

I'm not alone, my father is following in a coach.

Oh Lord, Oh Lord!

Come quickly.

Let's go!

Stay here, madam. I don't want you to get hurt.

- Have mercy. - Your coffer, good sir.

- My coffer, jewels, never! - Then prepare to meet your fate!

No one is going to meet their fate.

- I'll buy her free. - And if you can't?

- You're dead. - Dead? As you'll be.

If I want your gold, I'll take it from your dead body.

Don't forget, there are more of us.

I never forget anything.

Run for your lives!

Well sir,

it seems I owe you my life.

So it would seem.

It would also seem that you are rather presumptuous

in thinking you could stop such a gang alone.

It's in the blood of my veins...

and that of my ancestors.

As well as an ardent desire to oblige a young lady.

- My father! Where is my father? - Miss!

There is an old man in the coach,

clutching a coffer he refuses to let go of.

- Perhaps he is your father? - Drunkard! Dog!

- Pig! - An old rascal from Spain.

I understand the language.

Bastard! Dog!

Curse you murderer!

A happy coincidence. Is it Castilian?

Curse The Claw!

- May God damn you to Hell. - Well?

He speaks of a criminal they call "The Claw".

- Oh really? - The Claw is a bandit.

He's guided a band of men on a rampage.

God made him as brilliant as he is cruel,

- utterly lacking in... - We know who The Claw is!

Bastard! Animal!

If we believe him, that's The Claw, the one you killed so rapidly.

The Claw, you say?

So it would seem.

That ruffian! That hooligan!

This obstinate crook, that all the police in Europe,

including those of Pierre Vidalbur,

have fought over,

killed on the road to Pithiviers by the hand of my police?

My police! Mine! My own police!

The King's police, Sir.

My own!

Testis unus, testis nullus.

One witness is no witness.

I know Latin as well as you do,

young and impertinent Jesuit. For me...

- My convictions are set. - We've no formal proof.

To hell with your formalities!

Where do your prejudices come from?

A piece of information from you whose source I don't care about.

A masterful operation. Oh yes, I insist.

Masterful.

Yes?

Mr de Villerbois.

You, whose impeccable lineage cannot be ignored,

nor your selflessness,

nor the privileged position you hold with Mr de St Florentin,

Minister of the King.

I assume that the actions

of this bright young policeman,

will be given him the honour they deserve! The Claw is dead!

By the way, was there a reward for his capture?

- Not that I know of. - Good, we would have had to pay.

Mr de Villerbois, I am counting on your diplomacy.

That Petracci who came to our rescue, is he...

is he wealthy?

Nicolas?

Based on his appearance, how he dresses,

the weapons he uses, the horse he rides,

the gold with which he hoped to guarantee your life,

his wealth seems guaranteed indeed.

I would have liked to have thanked him before I returned.

Take Mr de Villerbois to see this Petracci this instant!

And send me a messenger to deliver my report to the King immediately.

A splendid blade you have there.

Do you want a go?

Signor, signor.

Thank you for saving my only treasure in this world,

my only daughter,

- whom I cherish above all. - I've not done much for her.

Not much? How modest of you!

All credit goes to Le Floch.

No matter, Signor, I'd like you to be my guest this evening

at the house of my daughter and myself.

- I don't want to take advantage. - Go ahead, signor, don't worry.

I'll not forget I'm indebted to you for my life.

You seem troubled, Nicolas.

You seem agitated by a strange intuition.

You have taken advantage of me, madam.

Would the opposite be more satisfying?

When, I ask you?

When you set me on the road to Pithiviers.

What then? Was the information... flawed?

- Not at all. - The gang was not where I said?

- The crossing at Croix de Samois? - Yes.

But why didn't you warn me that it was The Claw's gang?

- The Claw? - Didn't you know that?

No, I didn't know.

Or I'd have hesitated to tell you.

Is the man really so formidable that you fear him...

- even more than you fear me? - No, not at all.

Is he dead?

Supposedly.

He came to see you often, didn't he?

If he had tried he would have been turned away immediately.

I know you think my position is precarious,

but I wouldn't risk it by assisting such a criminal.

Above all else your sense of opportunism wins my admiration.

Indeed.

Which of your girls received the tip-off you gave me?

Amélie. A novice, so to speak.

- Come madam, you and your novice. - Where to?

It doesn't matter, we're going together.

- Where did this citizen come from? - From the Seine.

Found naked at dawn in the nets at Pont-Marie. Do you know him?

No, not well enough to know his name.

So many people passed through the "Crowned Prince".

His face isn't necessarily the first thing I'd recognise...

I have lots to do in the house right now.

Could someone escort me back?

He has a lovely, classic look, though.

But he lacks a certain nobility.

What can you tell me about him miss?

I can tell you, sir, that you have been lied to.

Do go on.

It's certainly the man, who, whilst in the act,

spoke with one of his pals about the business of la Croix de Samois.

However, you have been fooled sir.

I don't know who The Claw is but I can tell you it's not this man.

He's one of my clients.

How can you be sure if you don't know The Claw?

Because I...

I know he was called Gaspard le Viel, aka Tricotin.

He claimed to be a meat wholesaler.

But...

But?

That's all.

- That's all. - That's all.

The Claw is not The Claw.

Or at least he's not the man we thought he was.

Some sort of trick.

What's the motive?

Do you suspect Signor Giaccomo Petracci?

Something fishy about him, don't you think?

His documents seem to be in order.

His fast confirmation of his identity made me suspicious.

A lord needn't prove his identity, his arrogance is enough.

Do you like that?

But what are you doing?

Are you mocking me, my dear?

You've suddenly gone crazy?

I welcomed you and your brother out of sympathy.

However my compassion has limits. Do you know where to find him?

- Your brother, do you know? - I know.

Go and fetch him this instant. Tell him I must speak to him.

This instant!

Go on! Quickly!

- Where am I in all this? - Straighten up and get out.

It won't be a big loss.

My establishment doesn't leave its clientele in such a state.

Give it to me, sir,

so I can satisfy you

and myself at the same time.

Sir,

do you not think you might have lost your way?

On the contrary, my love, I'm back on the right path.

Between my knees?

Your knees!

It's been ages since their frail defences were swept away.

We're no longer at your knees.

Oh signor!

I fear that you won't reach your wedding day intact.

It's just that... in his inescapable foolishness,

my father didn't stipulate

in which state he wanted to deliver me.

- What are you saying? - Let's go to my room.

I ask myself

what is stopping me from stabbing you just like this.

Perhaps it's the presence of this other soul

by my side.

How did you find me?

The coachman, my friend.

Mr de Villerbois' coachman

was very obliging in showing me where his master would be.

Right now, the coachman is on our side.

One of your most recent conquests.

Conquests, yes.

That's the right word.

She wasn't wilful, but she did make an impression.

Both by her temperament and her total lack

of the slightest decency.

And you, madam?

- What can I do for you? - Nothing for me.

Madam, on the other hand,

is furious and wants to see you right away.

No! I took you in out of kindness.

Which has been profitable for you.

That's enough! You are impudent.

You satisfied me as much as I satisfied you. We're even.

Only the most noble, most selfless sympathy

inclined me to tolerate you in my house.

- If you call this tolerance... - This is all very cosy.

This one uses her charms,

and the other certainly uses his tricks.

- It doesn't matter. - So..?

You were seen leaving arm in arm,

with this gilded client who went by Petracci.

For...

what seem to be midnight encounters, for three.

Imagine my astonishment

on discovering the man's body, stark naked,

on the mortician's slab at the Châtelet.

Could it raise suspicions?

I don't think so. Someone else could come and recognise the man.

I don't want to be convicted of complicity.

At the top of the hour you are to leave.

I don't want to see you here again.

- You cast us out? - Yes.

Do you at least know whom you are casting out?

My name is Jacques Dorcy,

formerly of the King's gunners.

Spawn of a whore and the Devil.

Better known as The Claw!

Here you are, living up to your role.

Vile slut.

I want Suzon to keep her position. It's a useful lookout.

As for Petracci,

have no fear.

This one.

Come on, let's go.

Who goes there?

Halt!

Sir, I fear we need to scarper.

Without a doubt, the good influence of celestial intervention

has put Catherine in a very good mood this morning.

She brought me two pieces of milk bread,

and a most creamy cup of chocolate.

If it isn't Capua, at least it's closer to Byzantine.

Speaking of Capua,

sorry for changing the subject...

As royal attorney, you are allowed to get involved in foreign affairs.

Would you happen to know...

or have cause to inquire about a certain

Giaccomo Petracci?

Petracci?

This name is not unknown to me.

It seems I can put a face to that name.

And do you remember

if he had a scar beneath his right eye?

- Not that I remember, but he ... - Nicolas!

Go see the Lieutenant General, right away.

Take a seat.

What kind of mood is he in?

He's like a rabid dog! A dog, I tell you.

A rabid dog that's just escaped an arrow,

and been on its high horse since.

Thank you, Catherine.

May I?

Please!

Open the door young lady!

Open the door! I want to talk to you, right now!

Take me away, I cannot stay another instant in this whore house!

Open up right now!

Or I'll force my way in!

Take me away, I beg of you.

Open up!

Be reasonable my girl!

For the last time, open up!

You'll be sorry!

Oh my!

Off we go!

You are living it up, Nicolas.

While last night, behind your back,

someone intruded in this house.

I didn't know you were a Châtelet guard.

They intruded via the mortuary.

A little troop turned up. They left two officers behind.

The thieves were happy to retreat, abandoning their spoil there.

- And what was stolen? - A body.

A body, lifeless, pulled from the water.

Taken by the kidnapper in the buff. Does that mean anything to you?

I'm waiting.

I don't know, La Paulet stopped in front of a body.

Her roundabout way of talking makes me think she knew him.

Nothing out of the ordinary for a brothel keeper.

Is this him?

Yes.

What can you tell us?

The body shows us the marks of an old wound which suggests

a history as a swashbuckler or a soldier.

However, he was stabbed in the ear.

The wound isn't very visible, but it's very deep.

A metallic tip, like a large needle or a pen.

Your man really was murdered.

Why did they take the clothes off the body?

I won't be able to tell you any more

until I carry out the post-mortem,

which will undoubtedly confirm the initial examination.

Thanks!

Doesn't staying in the water cause rapid decomposition of the flesh?

Certainly.

Would it be possible to preserve his face?

By making a mask?

Kidnapped, you say?

By Signor Petracci, whom you yourself recommended.

Me? Could it be so?

Not content only to have eaten and drunk so much at my table,

he then went down on his knees for Miss de Villerbois.

He took hold of her by brute force

and brought her out through the window.

By brute force?

Sir, the drowned man was murdered.

I have to tell you about another type of crime

Sir, this anonymous victim deserves our best attention.

Mr Commissioner, your friend Petracci seems to have misbehaved.

My friend, Petracci?

The noble and virginal young girl,

a woman of noble birth,

was kidnapped by that fop.

Go to the house of Mr de Villerbois immediately,

to proceed in his presence to the inevitable conclusions.

Mr de Villerbois, my police and I are at your disposal.

Alas, I haven't the time.

Sir...

This document is the one he used to prove his identity and status.

"The Claw".

Your misgivings were well-founded.

The man came through the door as Petracci,

and left through the window as The Claw.

A laudable approach.

No sign of a struggle.

No sign of violence.

It seems... that the other lover consented.

Based on what I know of The Claw,

this ordeal will cost you dearly.

Cost me?

This coffer that you clung onto on the road to Pithiviers...

I'm sure it will soon be reclaimed from you.

And if necessary, with sword in hand.

- A token from the brothel? - Yes.

I just found it in young Clémence's room.

I doubt it belongs to her.

The stakes must be high for La Paulet to dare try my wrath.

Disguise a few officers and place them around the brothel

so that Mrs Paulet and her novice Amélie cannot escape our vigilance.

Mr Marquis, a ticket for you.

The Lieutenant General of Police told me where you'd be.

He must be of noble circumstances if Mr de Sartine is so aiding him.

That is indeed the case.

Return to Châtelet and take care of the "Crowned Prince".

I'll fulfil my obligations and do the same.

I present to you the Countess Olympe de Beauvoises.

Made by nature an early widow, and now the Canoness of Meudon,

by the grace of our good King.

What can I do for you, madam?

I would like to request the advice of the Marquis de Ranreuil,

to find out what's become of someone dear to me.

Who is the man in question?

A certain Jacques Torcy.

Better known by the name "The Claw".

Former pupil in St Brieux, where, fleeing through the window,

he left nothing but a girl longing for his incredible beauty,

and his great piety.

The precision and quality of his voice.

In other words, if it's true,

according to the rumours spreading around town,

The Claw met a romantic death yesterday,

while leading an attack on a coach

on the road to Pithiviers.

I can't deny this, madam.

Dead by your hand, as they tell us?

I hadn't any other choice, madam.

You know me as the organiser of the King's entertainment.

Accordingly, it fell upon me

to organise a private, armed duel

between Signor Faldoni,

known as a talented fencer and a famous master of weaponry

and Joseph Bologne, knight of St Georges.

Europe's most famous fencer,

athlete of merit and also a brilliant musician.

He is a mulatto.

If this date were to be cancelled,

- this duel will not be known. - It should be held in secret.

The armed duel is accompanied by bets.

Very high sums.

If the King wins or loses, the frenzy is the same.

This time, he's thrown himself into it.

His gamble is sure to put a dent in royal finances

if his champion is defeated.

A scandal,

should it become known.

Versailles is not safe, Mr Lieutenant General of Police.

It is home to one of the largest quantities of gold ever held.

I would therefore like you to make certain arrangements.

Mr de Ranreuil.

Come and I'll show you my champion,

the young and talented Joseph Bologne,

knight of St George,

a recent equerry of my house.

I hope he will do me the honour of winning the duel.

I confess to having a decent sum on his head.

It'd cost me more to lose him than a regiment.

Isn't it true you'll win, my friend?

By the grace of God, your Majesty, it is guaranteed.

God? Fiddlesticks!

Concerning games, d'Horaut doesn't seem a strong player.

Do like I do, and count on yourself.

And leave God for everyone else.

I ought to chide you.

You have strongly displeased a good friend of the Queen.

And the Queen herself, too.

Strongly displeased. She saw fit to open up to me.

Who might I have offended?

The beautiful Countess Olympe de Beauvoises,

Canoness of Meudon.

And how have I offended her?

By telling her about the distressing circumstances

of the disappearance of our new friend,

Mr Claw.

Our Canoness is deeply and secretly infatuated with him.

A little tact and restraint wouldn't hurt, Mr Marquis.

Let's go, the case is closed.

If I lash out at you it is only because I am entrusting you

with a very important mission.

It must remain secret.

You haven't gone to bed, Catherine?

A man, in charge of executions,

Sanson, just came to leave this basket for you.

He said it was an emergency.

Oh Nicolas! If you knew, if you only knew...

- If I knew what, Catherine? - Shortly before supper,

Mr de Noblecourt went out, and at his age...

He said he'd only be out a minute

and I haven't seen him since.

I fear the worst.

You need to help him! Nicolas, you must help him!

I will help him, but where is he?

In a place decency forbids me to name.

That's enough, young Cerberus.

No mocking or disapproving looks, now.

Before you ever were, I was,

I am, and I always will be.

I don't doubt it sir, based on what I can see.

Flambert-Jouvent! Fancy a sip of champagne?

- I must decline. - Give him something to drink.

You saucy girl, worth much money indeed!

Mr de Noblecourt turned up to ask about a certain Petracci

who he knew had become accustomed to houses of pleasure,

the Crowned Prince in particular.

But I was unaware, Mr Commissioner,

that you have others do your dirty work.

Perhaps it would have been quicker for you to ask me yourself.

What do you know about Petracci, madam?

He's a hedonist, a Monte-player and a libertine.

Said to be one of the most nimble blades on the peninsula.

Other than that, very rich,

and lavished with gold.

You should know the rest. As for me, that's all I know.

Any more fibs could land you behind bars.

I can't know what I don't know.

Alcohol, no doubt.

No sooner than the horse is let loose, will it gallop away,

leaving the rider in the ditch.

Well my young friend, I think it only remains to return home,

to where our Lares gods dwell.

Sir, there's no rush.

- Champagne! - Champagne!

For everyone.

There's still a light on up there.

Dressed up as the Lares gods,

I fear some haggard witches are doggedly awaiting you.

My ears are ringing already!

If you can find some absolving circumstances...

a robust set of extenuating circumstances,

which could lighten the outcome as well as the sentence.

Alas, I fear that we're in for the same fate.

Let's go.

It was work-related.

A security mission...

- for his Majesty's Kingdom. - It must have been his Majesty

who buttoned your coat back up the wrong way

and made your shirt stick out of your breeches!

Get to bed, you rascal!

And if you haven't already done it, think about having a bath.

In this house, one takes the good with the bad.

So Nicolas...

what is in this mysterious object you are carrying?

I will show you.

Petracci!

Signor Petracci! What's he doing there?

Petracci?

Yes, Petracci.

Yes, Petracci.

Why yes!

Good night, signor!

Who's that? Who's that then?

It would seem it is the face of a man killed by The Claw.

The drowned man at Pont-Marie.

A man whose identity he immediately borrowed.

- One Giaccomo Petracci. - The Claw is alive?

You need to realise, Mr Commissioner...

I'll seem ridiculous. I announced his death to the King.

It was based on premature evidence, sir.

I would ask you to remember

that it was due to my sources, that is, yourself,

that I announced something that wasn't true.

We will have to account for this.

Giaccomo...

My friend, Petracci.

He would always go ahead to where I was meant to fight.

He was dear to me.

Signor Faldoni, celebrated master of weaponry.

I allowed myself to enlighten Diogène

about a few things on the way here.

Matters of this affair in which you're involved.

Could it be

that he learned some secrets from Petracci before killing him?

The Claw seems aware of the duel and bets organised by the King.

It's not proven, but we can't rule it out.

Put an end to The Claw's exploits.

End them swiftly using any means.

Not so much for his misdeeds,

which are altogether ordinary,

as for any secrets

that he might inadvertently hold.

But perhaps it would be good

if a price were placed on his head.

It's not your place to suggest that, Nicolas.

So... a hundred pounds?

A thousand?

Clearly you wouldn't be the one paying.

Did you hurt yourself?

The Claw wants to see you.

Welcome, sirs!

There we are.

He recognised you!

A kiss for you my love!

Leave us.

Once a year, the Parisian underworld gathers for a banquet.

Thieves, gamblers,

looters and murderers,

girls of high and low descent, lots of beggars and cripples.

The meat is excellent.

We serve the best wines.

And here is proof of its finest effects.

Shame my being a policeman stops me coming more often.

That's why I am delighted you didn't resist my invitation.

Here you go.

Your audacity seems to know no limits.

Kidnapping a King's man is treason.

I'm not unaware of the price.

Are you talking about the wheel?

A bad moment. Others have gone through the same.

And no one's complained.

I know you, miss.

You seemed less immodest...

and more chaste.

But you didn't know me at all.

Only my lord knew me, every part of me.

Again and again.

Are you not promised to someone, a certain Dubuc, miss?

Born in Pithiviers?

Damn the promises of men, sir.

Nature satisfied me and no other spouse but this one will ever do.

Why did you invite me?

Well firstly, for pleasure.

Secondly because by killing the affable Tricotin

you've rid me of a second imbecile whom I'd have had to kill myself.

And finally because I want you to tell the damsel's father

that she demands her dowry,

that is, the jewels of her late mother.

Otherwise, The Claw will search for them himself.

Right to the bottom of Mr de Villerbois' coffer.

Let's go have fun...

My ladies!

My daughter was taken prisoner.

Alas, yes, sir.

The criminal wants you to give him his dowry.

If you do not consent, it would actually help me.

The Claw will be obliged to come get them himself.

He'd fall into our trap.

Isn't there a reward for his capture?

A re... Ah, of course!

A reward?

You could claim the reward for facilitating his capture.

I won't do it! That's it.

I won't do it!

- Very well, sir. - No, no, no. Never!

Cunning with all the qualities of a pimp.

But his faults will work for our good.

I was unaware of the reward for The Claw's capture.

Around the Hotel Villerbois, I want to set up a mesh trap

so tight that not even a wasp can escape.

Question Mrs Paulet and her novice Amélie.

- Is it that serious? - Yes.

SUBTITLES: RED BEE MEDIA FRANCE