Original subtitles

THE CRIME AT SAINT-FLORENTIN HOUSE

The poor soul won't linger for much longer.

When will God, in His mercy,

think it best to end his suffering?

How cruel for him to die like this, it is but a taste of the grave.

Come, Choiseul, it's not worth it.

You know you're not welcome here.

The King is dying and you want to deny me

the simple act of bowing before him once last time?

What is the meaning of this indignity!

We needn't look further than you,

with your detestable mania for conspiracy,

your vile lust for duplicity.

You are not permitted here.

Disappear.

Marquis, if you please, see him out.

Sir, if you please.

Unnecessary, sir.

Unnecessary.

That vile little insect!

Will he never cease in causing harm?

The King is dead.

The King is dead.

The King is dead! Long live the King!

Long live the King!

Not you, your Majesty.

I need to close his eyes...

Not you.

Your grandfather's illness could spread to you too.

Who will do it, then?

I will, your Majesty.

The King is dead. Long live the King.

The King is dead. Long live the King!

Do you have any idea, sir,

as to the identity of the person behind this mask?

None, sir.

And I couldn't care less.

So long as the money is good

and it flows abundantly into my pockets...

When do you intend to proceed?

As soon as night falls.

Have you been able to acquire the appropriate object?

Without any hassle.

Do you at least know how to wield it?

Nothing deadly is unknown to me.

It was agreed, I believe, that a large sum of money

would be needed to seal our pact?

My Lords...

Sir.

If by chance, the inspector becomes too pressing...

It'll cost you a few more pennies.

But it will be done, you can be sure of that.

Gentlemen.

How much can we trust him?

As much trust as we can legitimately accord

to one of my finest experts.

That's good, Chambonas...

That's good.

That's very good.

Your unusual project pleases me, in that it serves my interests.

However, I would prefer

to not be in any way associated with your sinister schemes.

Now go, my friend.

Go!

Come on! Stop playing around!

I know you're here!

What's the meaning behind this get-up, my dear?

What are you doing?

Have you lost your mind?

The King is dead, the young King has no confidence,

and Sartine has left for the Naval Ministry.

Now you're alone and exposed.

No, we are alone and exposed.

You're hanging to me like I'm hanging on to Sartine.

The new King, Louis XVI...

Sir, if you'd kindly follow me,

Mr Le Noir is waiting.

Sir.

My predecessor, Mr Sartine, recommended you.

I have seen for myself,

not long ago, your mastery in numerous delicate affairs.

However,

you cannot be as close to me as you were with Mr Sartine.

I intend to renew the rules

and subject our methods to new guidelines

which are more in line with my way of doing things.

Do you want me to repeat anything?

I serve the King, my Lord.

Just like his grandfather, to whom he was very loyal,

the King appreciates you, as we know,

but everyone must follow the same rules.

Longer-serving officers

might be offended that someone their junior

continued to freely monopolise attention and favour,

just as they pleased.

The multiple complaints and grievances

regarding you have already reached me.

You could heed, sir, the voice of reason.

Take it easy!

Rest up a little!

Go hunting!

Wait for a better time to return, who knows...

You may leave, sir.

Did you know that following the departure of Lady Du Barry,

who has the Queen's sympathies,

Choiseul wants to return to Court,

and he's vying for the top spot?

That of the King's mentor, held by Mr Maurepas.

With moderation, or undisguised?

Do you think Choiseul is capable of moderation?

He'll fight tooth and nail for it, and could very well succeed.

You haven’t said a word, my lady.

It's just that, like everybody else,

I am contented to admire you.

Isn't it customary to say...

the more we admire the stars,

the more we distance ourselves from them.

That's not my doing, my Lady.

It's no longer a question of time, but of wanting to do it...

Allow me to take my leave.

Please excuse me.

If I were you, I wouldn't.

Well, you aren't.

My Lady!

My Lady, wait.

Don’t wait for excuses from me, nor regrets.

Madam, may I know what I have done to merit this?

I could not love a Court lapdog.

You'll soon be fat and sated, licking your master's hand.

I lick nothing nor nobody.

You need a younger mistress, more becoming than I.

I alone am the judge of that.

Nicolas...

would you do me one last favour?

Leave, quickly,

before my courage fails me.

Let's go.

Should we fetch your horse, Marquis?

To go after her carriage? Are you mocking me?

Not at all, sir, I was only asking...

This doesn’t concern you at all!

- My apologies, sir... - Shut up!

- Nicolas! - Here I am.

Sleep has eluded me.

You've received immediate summons.

The dawn was...

...ugly, this morning.

Two officers are waiting in the hall,

and a large troop of armed guards in the yard,

acting as your escort.

Perhaps you should be kept under his Majesty's protection.

I am grateful to you, Marquis...

for not wasting a minute in coming here.

It's quite hard to escape

while surrounded by a troop of guards.

I think my instructions have been exceeded.

Don't think I've changed my mind about you, Mr Le Floch.

I have just been charged

to invite you to present yourself...

as of now, at Saint-Florentin House.

The Count of Saint-Florentin,

the Duke of Vrillière, Minister to the King's Household,

has asked to see you in person.

Why?

He didn't see fit to inform me.

Rest assured, if it were my choice, I'd have sent somebody else.

Alas, the Count of Saint-Florentin

takes after Mr Maurepas,

who himself takes after the King, whom he mentors.

So, I haven't been left with much of a choice,

rather, no choice at all.

Go.

Keep me informed of anything

that might interest the Royal Services.

Sir, I have always held you in high regard.

I understand you have been lead to believe

that recently, my trust in you has been lacking.

I've believed it so much that I'm convinced of it, my Lord.

However, I am without argument to explain it.

But others have had charges brought against them,

and I'm being made to feel pressured.

Le Noir, correct?

He suspects things, that's all.

A word from me will set him straight.

We do have further need of your services.

Mr Sartine has convinced me of this.

Today...

I need you.

On your orders, my Lord.

I was at Versailles.

I returned home in the early hours to find it turned upside-down.

To be frank...

one of my wife's chambermaids has been killed.

The maître d’hôtel was found injured and unconscious,

with a large knife at his side.

This leads us to believe he killed the girl,

then as a punishment, he tried to kill himself.

What do you want of me, my Lord?

I want you to investigate, Marquis.

I am an important person, of course,

but my position is fragile.

My reputation is villainous.

The gossip going around about me,

in the eyes of the young Queen,

has done me a great disservice.

The King, as usual,

is sticking by his own opinion.

I know the rumours, sir,

but take them for what they are, garbage.

Investigate.

Investigate.

And what about the Police Lieutenant General?

Le Noir?

I'll deal with it,

but with the highest discretion.

You can use the study on the mezzanine.

Provence, who has served me for 20 years,

will act as your guide in these matters.

Where was the maître d’hôtel found?

Sprawled on his back,

here, injured, not far from the poor girl.

And the knife?

Held in his hand, covered in blood.

As soon as I got your message, I rushed over here.

Is this a big case?

Not only because of how the victim died,

but also because of the place, yes.

The crime scene has been trampled over.

The footprints here are convoluted,

I doubt we'll get very much.

But on the other hand...

the wound to the victim's throat...

I'll let you be the judge.

What abominable monster could have done this?

You will do a full search of the house,

then you will listen to all the domestic staff.

- I want a full, precise geography. - Yes, sir.

You will have the body taken discreetly to the morgue.

And ask Sanson to make a cast of the throat.

Yes, sir.

Gentlemen...

I was summoned to make records of this mess.

The young woman had no need of my expertise,

this one, however...

He was fortunate that the blade passed over a rib

without seriously damaging the internal organs.

I believe he will come to.

He hasn't come to yet?

No.

- Not since you found him? - No.

That intrigues me.

The wound wouldn't have caused this.

I fear there's something else.

Show me the wound.

You'll notice the bleeding has stopped

and the wound is clean,

probably caused by this robust knife,

borrowed from a butcher's.

Do you have any reason to conclude

that the man tried to commit suicide?

Until we have more information,

and although we have no proof of this,

we can stick to that hypothesis.

He's breathing heavily.

Get up close, smell his breath.

Pungent and lingering...

This could lead to some embarrassment,

but I cannot assume anything about it.

Make sure to inform me

as soon as your patient regains consciousness.

One of my men will soon be here to assure he speaks with no-one.

If he wakes, say nothing of the murder.

Well, as you put it,

the traces of blood left around the victim

are unclear.

What is her name?

Pindron. Marguerite Pindron.

Carry on.

The nature of the wound, on the throat,

also seems unclear.

But we'll see what our friend Sanson thinks.

There are two things.

Firstly, the victim's attire leads us to believe that

she was expecting a romantic encounter.

Secondly, by widening the scope of my research,

I found a few nice traces of dried blood footprints,

but this blood should have been very fresh,

and these footprints are stepping away from the crime scene.

- Madam... - Sir.

I've been told that you're the one

investigating the death of that loose woman?

Can you tell us to whom we have the honour of speaking?

I am the Duchess de la Vrillière,

the wife of the Count of Saint-Florentin.

And you are in my home!

It was common knowledge that Jean Missery, our maître d'hôtel,

was seeking carnal pleasures with that girl.

Marguerite Pindron was part of your entourage,

as a chambermaid?

Entourage?

You must be joking!

She was part of my house staff,

of a lowly rank at that.

I don't know how she got in,

it was quite recently actually, and without my consent!

Having surprised her during his rounds,

while that girl was readying for their nightly debaucheries,

in a fit of jealousy,

the maître d’hôtel put an end to the girl's existence

before trying to kill himself.

I have heard this one before, told by your husband.

It is quite convenient, I do not deny that.

Do you suspect me, sir?

When and how did you learn about the crime?

At 6 am...

when my head chambermaid came to wake me.

Her name?

Eugénie Gouet.

Am I right in saying you knew Miss Pindron intimately?

- Intimately? - Yes! Intimately!

What do you want from me?

Am I right in saying

it was on his recommendation that she was hired to this house?

Yes, but why, sir?

Did you have any authority over the young lady?

The same amount as all the house staff,

within the remit of my position.

What do you want?

I want you to answer me!

What did you do last night?

Last night, after my rounds...

I retired to this room, and went to bed, like every night.

- Alone? - Yes, that's right.

Since my wife's death, I live alone.

Did you know Marguerite Pindron had a lover?

- How should I know? - Everyone knows!

- Sir, please... - Sit down!

You knew this and it broke your heart.

We found you, unconscious,

with a knife in your hand,

next to the lifeless body of your mistress.

She's dead?

You are accused of the crime of having murdered her...

and also the crime of trying to take your own life.

You will be sent to Châtelet and then incarcerated there.

I'm innocent, sir.

Innocent of what!

Do you remember anything that proves this?

No.

No!

What can you tell me about the Duchess' chambermaid?

Which chambermaid?

The Gouet lady.

Ah, Nicolas.

Madam Gouet has just given us a verbal declaration...

Verbal?

Yes, according to her,

Marguerite Pindron was Jean Missery's mistress.

They're aren't just claims.

Inquire for yourselves.

He had become the laughing stock of the entire household.

He didn't deserve that,

he, who could have once...

He could have once, what, Madam?

- I know him... - Well, that's good.

Could he have killed himself?

Even though he's not lacking in charm,

he's a brutal man, hot-headed,

prone to angry outbursts and irrational acts.

He does everything to excess.

Like his affections towards you?

Affections?

Jean Missery is no man of affection.

He takes, he consumes, and once bored, he's done.

Poor Pindron thought she was toying with him...

but it was him who was toying with her.

It looks most likely that the maître d'hôtel is guilty.

For the time being, let's pretend we stick to the version of events

that everybody is telling us in total agreement...

Let's wait for the body to be opened up

so we can finely attune our inquiries.

Have you heard word from Sanson?

We're meeting him tomorrow in the prison morgue at 6 am.

6 am?

That's the most discreet time.

For the time of death,

taking into account the advanced rigor mortis,

and considering the room she was found in was very cold,

we can place it between 10 pm and midnight.

And the causes of death?

She perished from a mortal wound to the front of her throat.

This unique wound opened up the subclavian vessels

of the larger branches of the axial artery.

We were right to conclude immediate death from blood loss.

This case is without precedent.

It's like her throat was ripped out.

And the weapon?

We're dealing with robust pincers, which have malleable jaws.

- Not a knife wound? - No, nor any other sharp object.

Did you create the cast I previously asked you for?

I'm working on it.

The clothes tell us a lot, these top quality shoes,

this petticoat, these leggings...

This woman was being courted.

Our physical observations show her body type was similar

to those of lower-class girls who line up to sell themselves.

Then, there was this contraceptive sponge,

found in her "private areas".

This at least proves your victim was waiting for some suitor.

Nicolas, let's wager that when we find this suitor,

the guilty party won’t be far off.

The Lieutenant-General wants to see you immediately.

What do you want, sir?

Please, don't play this game with me.

Give me your report.

A girl dead, her throat horribly torn to shreds.

A man found injured next to her, unconscious, with a knife in hand.

What are you inferring?

I infer nothing, I'm just stating the facts.

A crime, you say.

In the very heart of Saint-Florentin House.

I now better understand

the Minister's haste to personally send for you.

On the contrary, I don't understand at all.

Any officer could have acted as a candle-snuffer.

Any specific instructions?

None, now carry on, carry on.

This could become complicated or perilous

if by chance this is any way involved the minister...

Carry on, that's an order.

I hereby grant you full powers, which you've already exercised,

at your own risk, of course.

And please, change your clothes.

As for Missery, our preliminary findings show

that while he's no big shot, he's no small-fry either.

He worked with the Duchamplans.

He married one of the sisters, died in labour.

I know even less about who the Duchamplans are.

A bourgeois family who look only for gain

and furthering their social standing.

Only three of them are now left.

- May I? - Go ahead.

Excuse me...

The eldest Duchamplan owns a cab company.

He works at Bicêtre Hospital

and he's also eyeing up the city's water services,

together with Mr de Conti.

Conti...

The second, Louise de l'Annonciation,

is the Mother Superior of the Saint-Michel Girls Home.

As for the third thief, Eudes Duchamplan,

he's known for committing a few infractions

common to those young people who lavishly spend gold

which isn't theirs, if you know what I mean.

Commissioner!

The Police Lieutenant-General wants to see you now.

- But I just saw him... - No, the other one, the real one.

Mr de Sartine!

I know everything...

Mr Marquis of Ranreuil...

concerning the escapades and depravities

in the house of the Count of Saint-Florentin.

The man is notoriously dissolute...

But he's the King's minister,

making him the state's third most powerful man.

Could we imagine, whatever title he may hold,

that he could be incriminated in the goings-on at his home?

We could imagine anything, sir.

Such rigidity, Nicolas.

It's like we've never met before.

It's just that, you're no longer my superior.

As I carry out my functions, I owe the new Lieutenant-General

the same loyalty that I owed you.

That's one point to you.

I need to speak frankly with you.

For the young King, the time is right for a change.

Yet many ministers are in place

who pose as obstacles and who should be removed.

Including Mr Saint-Florentin?

You deduce, as ever, quickly and correctly.

The future is uncertain.

The young King does not seem fully qualified

to protect the dynasty from coming agitations.

He needs a real mentor.

Only one person has the necessary qualities, and that's Mr de Choiseul.

The young King does not like him.

Quite right.

Make no mistake.

All those who bring down Saint-Florentin

will serve to bring about Choiseul's return.

I'm counting on your former loyalty

in order to keep me informed, if not of the small details,

but of the bigger picture of your investigation.

One thing, however.

Despite what he says,

I can tell you that the Count of Saint-Florentin

was not at Versailles, but in Paris.

He lied to you about that.

I'll let you judge the rest.

Good day, sir.

So, does Mr de Sartine intend to lead the way for us?

Yes, I'm as surprised as you are.

This brings us full-circle to Saint-Florentin House.

Yes.

I am a Police Commissioner from Châtelet

and I want to be received

by Mother Louise de l'Annonciation, right away.

While I listen to the Mother Superior,

go speak with all the nuns who wish to talk.

We'll then compare

what the top says against what the bottom says.

Yes, sir.

No messing around, Bourdeau.

Good day, Sister.

I'm listening, my son.

Have you heard news of your brother-in-law,

Jean Missery?

None, and I'm not looking for any.

I always disapproved of their union.

My sister didn't want to listen, she married Missery,

and now she's dead.

What do you mean by that?

The Lord did not want to bless their union.

Their stillborn child killed my sister.

Mother Superior,

Jean Missery seems to have killed a certain Marguerite Pindron.

A whore.

A street girl.

After he abused her, he would sell her for himself.

You seem to know quite a lot about Saint-Florentin House.

The Duchess de la Vrillière, the Countess of Saint-Florentin,

is the benefactress of this home.

Without her help, what could we do for these poor girls?

Just like Saint-Florentin House,

the house of God is also a place of wrong-doings,

which they prattle on about at great length.

More than the devil's influence,

we should observe their confinement and other restrictions.

As for restrictions,

the Mother Superior seems to be living the high life.

If we accept she was found without shoes,

this girl strongly resembles the previous one.

Her clothes are almost identical, so we can suppose the same habits.

This one, however, seems much younger and less "used".

Here's the cast made from Marguerite Pindron.

It very closely matches the throat of the second victim.

The same weapon.

And perhaps the same hand.

You don't know how right you are.

Intrigued by its shape,

I carried out a study on the dimensions of the wound.

A hand, Nicolas.

Made from metal, a hand possessing great strength,

an articulated hand.

A sort of armoured gauntlet.

The second death reminds us

of the murder of Marguerite Pindron.

It is identical in its cruelty, yet different in scope.

Different in scope?

The crime scenes.

Saint-Florentin House for the first girl,

and the second, hitherto unknown to us,

found in the street.

And this handprint.

The silver hand the King gave to the Count of Saint-Florentin.

Find it, bring it in for comparison,

then you'll know beyond any shadow of a doubt.

I can't figure it out.

The enormity of this discovery suffocates me.

The Count...

A man of his standing...

Everything must bow before

the implacable and abrupt evidence of proof.

Leaving already?

The King wants to see me tomorrow for an extremely important matter.

The King? Tomorrow?

Bloody hell, Nicolas, you're a real high-flyer now!

Easy now.

Easy!

Easy, easy!

- What's going on? - There's a body down there.

It seems lifeless.

Miss?

Miss!

Miss...

You seem confused, what has happened to me?

I don't know, the coach driver saw you.

Who should I be thanking, my saviour?

Nicolas Le Floch.

The little Marquis of Ranreuil!

Do not take offense, sir.

We have a friend in common, Mr de la Borde.

He won’t stop singing your praises!

His very young wife is a close friend of mine.

You can put me down.

I only look thin, but I'm not.

I don't intend to tire you further,

in such a stupid way as well!

Aimée of Arranet, sir, at your service.

Please, get in, Miss.

Go!

What were you looking for?

Mushrooms, chestnuts...

or a few handsome man, fallen from the sky,

in a cut-price carriage!

Because of me, you've got all wet.

It was my pleasure.

Where can I take you?

I see my company isn't wanted.

It seems I've made you late.

That's just how I am.

Impertinent and playful by nature.

My father's house isn't far from here.

It's on Avenue de Paris.

And what is your father's name?

The Count of Arranet,

and Admiral of the Navy.

To Avenue de Paris!

Well, Tribord, are you waiting to tell my father...

Tell me what, Miss?

What could further shock me with regards to you?

May I know who you are, sir?

- Nicolas Le... - The Marquis of Ranreuil!

She's a unique girl, not yet a woman.

She has grace, spirit,

vivacity, even softness,

even if it can hardly be seen.

I once knew a Marquis of Ranreuil

who served in the King's Guard at the battle of Fontenoy.

My father, my Lord.

I'm throwing a dinner tonight in honour of my new minister.

It would be most agreeable if you were to join us.

Don't even think of refusing.

The desserts here are exquisite!

You missed the arrival, Nicolas.

His Majesty is waiting for you with great impatience.

Will you join us on the hunt tomorrow?

No, your Majesty, I have to go to Paris for a case.

The case of the Count of Saint-Florentin?

Yes, your Majesty.

You're good, you'll solve it.

Sir...

There is something worse.

You have to clear my name.

Your Majesty knows my loyalty. How may I serve you?

From time to time, from atop the gazebo...

I shoot at the cats which litter our roofs.

They trouble us at night.

Alas...

I killed one cat

that is surely the Turkish Angora belonging to Lady Maurepas.

Lady Maurepas! Do you see now?

Yes, I quite understand.

What would you advise, Marquis?

If his Majesty permitted me to speak on his behalf,

I could act as his ambassador

and go "over the top" in order to take the first barrage.

And once the gunfire has ceased, how will you proceed?

That the accident was in no way voluntary,

the King was merely shooting pigeons...

and a cat happened to pass by...

That's it! That's exactly it!

A cat happened to pass by!

I'll have to leave you, Nicolas,

the moment you fire the first shot.

Approach us, sir.

A clear look in his eyes, a sturdy build,

a good swordsman too, it seems.

Well, sir, what warrants us your presence?

- My Lady, his Majesty... - His Majesty, what, Marquis?

I won't beat around the bush.

The King feels so bad for your cat, he dare not speak to you.

He desperately wants you to know the truth.

I swear on my honour to have advised him

to say he missed a pigeon...

An errant pigeon? That's a good one, Marquis!

As if I didn't know!

The King doesn't need my pardon, I'm his servant.

He's a good boy,

and you are too.

They say Saint-Florentin is involved in a ghastly affair.

News travels quickly, my Lady.

Bad news spread like an infection,

and the others are of no interest.

Do they claim that Saint-Florentin, our brother-in-law, is a killer?

Yes, my Lady.

Don't believe a word, sir.

In his youth, the Count was quite the libertine.

One of his less stupid escapades would have been

his tumultuous liaison with Madam de Cusacque,

better known by the name, "The Fair Aglaé".

Have you ever met her?

- No, I have not. - She possessed great beauty.

But believe me,

he would not spoil fresh meat.

He loves her too much for that.

I am sure you are telling the truth.

Keep an eye on Saint-Florentin.

He sorely needs it.

Your question seems answered.

It is, you can be sure of that.

No gunshots, no screaming, you must have bewitched the lady!

You are an expert in matters of exorcism, Nicolas.

What can you tell me about a certain Aglaé de Cusacque?

Nothing but very banal details.

The Count of Saint-Florentin was crazy for her,

even making her his mistress.

Out of their illegitimate union was born a daughter,

whom the Count does not acknowledge.

That poor child is the recently married wife

to a sinister breed of man.

Sir Scipion de la Garde, the Marquis of Chambonas.

You don't seem to hold him in high esteem.

An ambitious upstart, very unpredictable,

he always provokes intrigue.

Can you imagine, he named himself Grand Master

of a libertine society called "The Order of Happiness".

My word!

This hermaphrodite society practises gender swapping

and gender mixing,

and it intends to pave the way

for a new and more enlightened humanity.

- Is that all they want? - That's all, yes.

Let's change the subject.

I've just learned you too are expected at Arranet House,

at one of the dinners to which the Admiral is so partial.

Let's travel there together!

SUBTITLES: RED BEE MEDIA FRANCE