Original subtitles

THE ENGLISH CADAVER

Couldn't we, as men of the same standing,

conclude a sort of peace of the braves?

"Peace of the Braves"...

While war is already rumbling in the Americas.

You're out of the shadows, Harris.

France has not lost, England has not won,

death is still death.

"Death"...

What death?

Well...

Don't tell me you know nothing about the escapee from For-l'Evêque.

One can't help but see the work of your services.

This is news to me, Monsieur de Sartine.

You've just handed me a jewel.

I know nothing about this crime.

Neither I, nor my services have a hand in this.

"Crime"?

Who talked of crime?

The advantage is yours again.

There's very little time to finish.

What do you know on the subject of rumors

concerning a certain flute that was recently stolen?

Are your services involved in this operation?

Not in that either.

But we're noting with interest the reaction of Austria.

You said it yourself, it's only rumors.

A malicious rumor just good enough for gossip in our salons.

No winner, no loser.

It's a draw, Mr. Head of the Information Bureau.

Not completely, Mr. Keeper of Secrets.

I've just learned that the King's commissioner,

Nicolas le Floch, who was going to Arranet's residence,

has drowned.

When falling off his horse.

- Is he dead? - I did what I could.

A parishioner found him floating on his back nearby.

Leave me alone, please.

You're alive.

No thanks to you.

I...

I forgive you.

You're alive. Let's forget it.

What do you know about a missing flute?

What do you know about the escapee from For-l'Evêque?

After all...

The man was Saül François Peilly.

An English Protestant from a Huguenot family.

He was spotted, approached and enrolled by our services.

He was a skilled watchmaker.

We placed him with Lalande,

where longitude is being researched,

then we had him arrested.

We let him pass information

to the English services.

Which explains the presence of James Harris.

The scoundrel! He kept that from me.

- Kept it from you? - Doesn't matter.

To keep nothing from you, after his escape,

Peilly was to have been taken by the English

to work with Harrington, a specialist in watchmaking.

You would have had a mole among the enemy.

And the watch that the man was supposedly wearing?

A simple watch.

To make them believe in the deficiency of our research.

Although quite twisted,

the conspiracy was not without appeal.

Only, it didn't work.

And do you know why?

Because while

you endeavored to plant your mole,

the enemy was one step ahead.

What trust do you have in de Rivoux?

He was Peilly's desk officer, his contact.

He didn't murder him.

The English swear that they're not involved either.

They're after you instead.

Others were less lucky.

Mazicourt acted under your orders.

Are Lavalée and the young model dead?

The interests of the kingdom sometimes require sacrifices.

In this matter of the watchmaker, there's a murderer.

That's a matter for the police.

It's up to de Rivoux to find him.

He's a soldier.

I told you about the escapee.

What can you tell me about the flute?

I promised secrecy to His Majesty.

I don't intend to waver.

Gentlemen.

I am Nicolas le Floch.

I am Agnès Guinguet,

- the goddaughter of Mr. - Lalande,

the court's watchmaker, currently absent.

This is Armand Desplat, a worker in the shop

and my godfather's associate.

I am an officer from Châtelet

and this is inspector Bourdeau.

Are you bearers of bad news?

Why, Madame?

It's just that...

we are very worried.

Tell me.

My...

My friend, Saül François Peilly, works here,

but he's disappeared.

Could it be that...

this note was written by him?

Oh yes!

Assuredly. It's his handwriting.

Could it be to you he is writing?

I would hope so.

Among his visitors was there

a naval officer by the name of Emmanuel de Rivoux?

I don't know, Commissioner.

A certain La Freluche, who was a model?

A painter in pastels called Lavalée?

My friend is from La Rochelle.

He hardly visits Paris.

I'm his only companion in his moments of solitude.

May I keep this note?

No, Madame.

It's required for an inquiry into a homicide.

"Homicide"?

Your friend is dead, Madame.

What an interesting visit.

- What did we see? - Yes, what did we see?

Agnès was at ease in the role of a worried lover.

For sure.

Armand Desplat was convincing as the jealous lover.

And the man spying on us at the street corner?

The spirited Emmanuel de Rivoux.

Handsome man.

No doubt one of the diabolical trio.

- An amorous rivalry? - Why not?

If neither Sartine nor the English eliminated him,

somebody had to have killed this fellow.

But for the moment, Bourdeau, you are in charge of a delicate task,

calling for tact and sensitivity.

This wily manner of disguising things

does not bode well.

Le Floch is making progress.

He came to the boutique.

Big news.

Having failed to kill him,

the matter was hardly inevitable.

If the French are looking for an assassin,

it's that he's not among their ranks.

So who, then?

For you to find out.

What does he know about you?

No more than what you've told him.

And the button from the tunic?

I've one missing from a uniform,

but I'm not the only sailor.

And the medallion found at Lavalée's in which you appear?

It's not me.

We have to eliminate le Floch. I'll do it.

If he continues to make progress, should we get rid of him?

No!

Let's wait and see, as our French friends say.

Le Floch is very capable of leading us to the murderer.

He will lead us perhaps to the mysterious killer.

Keep an eye on him, from a distance.

A kind of wait and see, as our English friends say.

As for the rest, I suggest you get rid of all traces

that may lead to your identification.

What's the point

of this ridiculous arrest made by your colleague?

Stay here, this concerns you.

Arresting me in front of my servants!

A little discrete word and I would have come.

Unable to resell the flute,

La Cahuet had the intelligence to implicate the queen.

If Her Majesty pawns the object,

it's easy to threaten her with a scandal.

Telling the king would mean betraying her.

- Do you understand? - But who could?

Those who provide money for the queen to play,

friends of La Cahuet, who will benefit.

What can I do that you can't?

You're a friend of La Cahuet. Get close to her.

Find out where the flute is, and tell me.

Inspector Bourdeau will be your contact.

And otherwise?

A prison cell.

The salons or a prison cell, your choice.

- Any news of Lavalée? - No.

- And his model? - No.

We have to find her.

She knows de Rivoux well, and who knows who else.

The wine is drinkable.

Shouldn't you take a few days rest?

It's not as good as wine from Irancy.

Oh, that's good!

Madame...

- Madame! - Oh, Monsieur!

Nicolas.

You know all the girls in Paris,

what do you know about Freluche?

- I'll teach you a lesson! - Calm down.

Would you please excuse us?

The Freluche girl?

The most corrupt creature still has somewhere in her being

a trace of original innocence.

I sense a touch of sarcasm, aimed at me.

Why would I be sarcastic?

Speaking of souls is fitting for a brothel keeper.

The Freluche girl, that was her: grandeur, innocence...

She never marketed her charms,

nor anything, for that matter.

La Freluche emptied the chamber pots.

As for gallantry, she was worthless.

Is she in trouble?

I don't know yet.

Hurry up.

You're going to pay her!

That's enough! Get out, please.

Go...

What a pity, Nicolas,

that you haven't consented to play the role of protector

for me personally.

The word pimp seems more appropriate.

Protector or pimp, what does it matter?

Because of you, I've had to settle for this lout.

Do you know where La Freluche is living presently?

I can only give you her last address.

But it's a neighborhood

you shouldn't visit at night

without an armed escort.

Gentlemen.

Bravo!

I place...

What do you know about lady Cahuet de Villers?

A real pain, scheming and corrupt.

She comes to bet and lose relentlessly

at the pharaoh's table.

Like tonight, in fact.

I win!

No more bets.

Madame, I would like to talk with you privately.

Decidedly, Monsieur, you are very persistent.

Well, I'm listening to you.

- Please. - Let go of me or I'll make a scene.

What would you like to ask me about?

A stolen flute. You don't seem to realize its importance.

The flute again?

It concerns a theft and blackmail of the queen.

The last time it was seen,

it was with your former mistress, Mademoiselle d'Arranet.

An excellent friend who doesn't miss you.

Speak with her.

Would you be capable

of putting your interests before the kingdom's?

Like everyone at Versailles.

It's a matter of war.

It wouldn't be the first, nor the last.

And like every time, the shrewdest get rich from it.

Enough! I don't have and never did have this flute.

Madame...

You fuck my mistress, interfere with the games.

Who do you think you are?

Simon...

Simon, come here.

Monsieur.

La Freluche, my friend.

I'm not your friend.

The little bird flew away, without paying her rent.

And here you are, foolishly.

You've come alone, without disguise.

God help you.

- Little Mama, I knew her. - "Little Mama"?

The one you call "La Freluche".

Little Mama took care of us,

all those who didn't have a mother.

One day, someone came for her and she left.

- Who came? - I don't know.

- Do you want to harm her? - No.

I want to find her.

I'd appreciate your help.

Strange world,

strange times.

War, poverty mixed with frivolity.

I owe my salvation to a bunch of coins.

What happened to you?

I realized

how frightening it is for a circle to close in on you.

In the case of our escapee, we have 3 suspects.

The goddaughter of fantasy,

the jealous comedian, and the soldier on guard

and mentor of the dead man, Emmanuel de Rivoux.

Anyone close to the victim is suspect.

We have 3 of them in Lalande's workshop.

Exactly.

I want them to feel the heat,

maniac, harassed by flies.

It means showing our presence, tightening the noose.

Warn Rabouine.

I want that to be in place, from tonight.

I know where Little Mama is hiding.

Do you want to eat?

I have a daughter your age.

Is there something you'd like?

Yes, Monsieur.

To be in heaven with my mother and my sisters.

Up there, they have something to eat every day

and neither death, nor suffering, nor cold can bother them.

Here.

Take me. Let's go.

If you had consulted me

about longitude, I would have gone on endlessly,

and you too, by the way.

France's fortune is that Harrington

is stifled by his rival, the Reverend Maskelyne.

A watch on the one hand, calculations of lunar distances on the other.

Nothing about that is secret or worth killing for.

As if you need a reason to kill someone.

At last! A word from your mouth, Mademoiselle.

I was afraid that you were mute.

Is it true that you worked for Paulet?

Yes, Monsieur.

Honesty requires me to say so.

I was a slut and emptied chamber pots

Then a woman of standing took me under her wing

and I found work as a model.

My benefactor...

Thank you, sir. I'm going to sleep.

Where did you get that?

This is why de Rivoux spared you.

What has become of Lavalée?

I don't know.

Please, I don't know.

You're protecting a murderer.

It's not him. He answers to the king's orders.

He...

He's stalking an English spy.

Armand Desplat?

My benefactor told me that he's a vulgar lout,

an animal in heat

who is consumed by love for her without being paid in return.

Emmanuel has suspicions about him.

He pretends to love my protector to get closer.

Your benefactor at Lalande?

Agnès Guinguet?

She's a real lady.

Emmanuel...

He...

He promised to marry me.

And a young watchmaker, Saül François Peilly.

To hell...

To hell, my dear lady...

- To hell... - Go on, Madame, have pity.

It's hell...

Have you lost your mind, Desplat?

You could have been one of them.

The beggars. And then what?

They've come little by little.

They come, they go.

They were sticking to the windows like flies.

This police officer, and now, the flies.

I'm lost, I'm telling you.

- What are you saying? - I killed for you, Madame.

Ridiculous...

You did what?

I killed for you, Agnès.

You're never out of my sight. Never.

I saw how it was between Saül and you.

I got close to the little Protestant.

I pretended to be his friend.

He was scared. He confided in me.

Go on.

- What did he confide? - Everything.

His imminent arrest, his escape, the English.

the damn sailor prowling around you.

I helped him make a rope.

I dipped it in acid used for engraving clocks.

I don't know what you're saying.

Come on, Agnès. You know everything.

Saül told me that he confided in you.

Saül was a spy and de Rivoux visited him.

But I'm more cunning than them.

Me, the watchmaker's assistant, I'm more cunning.

One day, the sailor left his keys in your suitor's bedroom.

It was easy to make a copy

and to steal a tunic to get close to the victim.

You really murdered Saül?

I'm a criminal.

I stabbed him because he'd broken my heart.

You were infatuated with a spy.

I saved you, Agnès.

I love you.

I would die 1,000 deaths for you,

but give yourself to me, otherwise, I'm worthless.

I'll go turn myself in.

Armand.

Thank you.

I hardly recognize you, my dear.

It would seem the devil is chasing you.

The devil, indeed.

The little marquis is all over me.

Therefore, the crime would be due to a jealous lover?

These French and love...

Always love.

Desplat knows nothing about me.

Killing him would probably raise eyebrows.

Of course.

Besides him, are there any other witnesses likely...

to lead the police?

None.

You're certain of that?

We can't take any risks, Agnès.

None.

Since I'm playing a policeman, I went

to tell you that I've found nothing.

But you weren't there or at Monsieur de Noblecourt's.

Bourdeau thought about Semacgus,

your reputation, and here you are in her wrinkled sheets.

Were you worried?

Don't deny the evidence. Whose hair is this?

If I told you nothing happened you wouldn't believe me.

Time is precious and the flute is missing.

Your little flute story, keep it for Paulet!

- I didn't cheat on you... - Leave me alone!

You're bleeding.

You're bleeding...

A poorly closed wound that I've had for a while.

Oh, excuse me. I thought...

What did you think?

A policeman came looking for me here.

I thought he was coming back.

- A police officer? - Commissioner le Floch.

When?

Last night.

- You spent the night with le Floch? - Just slept. And then I fled.

Why you?

I don't really know.

He spoke about de Rivoux, Desplat and you.

Would you betray me?

No, Madame. I've always remained loyal to you,

even when it cost me to tell you about Emmanuel.

You really love Rivoux.

And what do you know about me?

So little.

Sorry, my dear...

I'm upset to have let Freluche get away.

That hardly seems like you.

And is it like you, to slander a comrade?

A simple lie

and the Countess d'Arranet would have torn my eyes out.

Excuse my intrusion, gentlemen.

But I have a strange little story to tell you.

I don't understand much about it.

We're listening. Please sit down.

Thank you.

You know Inspector Bourdeau.

Madame.

Do you remember Armand Desplat,

my godfather's associate?

I just learned that this man,

in love with me, but not loved in return,

knew about my liaison with my lover Saül François.

And de Rivoux?

Excuse me?

During our visit to your shop,

you denied knowing de Rivoux.

Yet, it seems he's been chasing you.

It seems to me you asked me if he visited Saül.

I don't know.

The rest concerns my private life

and doesn't seem useful.

Pardon me. I didn't ask the question properly.

You know de Rivoux?

Yes. In a very superficial way.

He's a client who woos me when he drops in,

as a number of clients do.

We don't doubt, Madame.

You also denied knowing Lavalée and La Freluche.

Very well.

I came to help the police, but I prefer to leave.

I'm looking for the truth and accuse you of nothing.

So?

Only the disarray in which your visit left me

may explain my confusing answers.

Naturally, I know Lavalée, as does everyone.

Moreover, he's a client of the House of Lalande.

As for La Freluche...

she's a young lady that my affluence allows me to help.

The facts, please.

I'm certain that Armand Desplat killed my lover.

You may leave.

Thank you.

Is that all?

And if, by vengeance or cowardliness, he accused me of something?

My wisdom permits me to keep things in perspective.

In the meantime, do nothing, say nothing.

A very beautiful specimen.

Who doesn't object to the presence of vermin

when they haunt her street.

Any good bourgeois would have asked us to intervene.

Desplat seems to have panicked.

Of what would she be guilty?

She denounced the murderer of her lover.

Undoubtedly.

So how did things happen?

De Rivoux suspects Desplat is an English spy,

and under cover of courting Agnès,

he ensures that Desplat learns

of Saül François Peilly's escape.

Desplat forewarns the English in order to retrieve the defector.

So there. So you weren't drunk.

If Desplat is an English agent, why kill Saül?

Well, in order to...

If Desplat is not an English agent,

but only a rejected lover who kills his rival,

who warns the English about the escape?

The watch, Desplat.

Do you acknowledge a homicide

committed on the person of Saül François Peilly?

Everything I did, I did for love.

Mademoiselle!

There were gold filings and grease in the creases of her neck.

Lethal traces of a small and bony hand,

almost feminine, most determined.

I consulted the list of accommodation.

On his arrival in Paris,

Guinguet stayed in an establishment

where lodging was funded by the English Embassy.

- At the Hotel Morillon? - Exactly.

I checked, the bitch hasn't reappeared.

- She's being watched. - Good.

She'll come back.

She doesn't know what we know.

She's still playing her cards.

You're right, Nicolas.

Yes, but too late, and that doesn't make it right.

I want you at Versailles tomorrow, at dawn.

"At Versailles"?

What you're going to do,

Ranreuil could not do without triggering a scandal at the court.

There was a spy.

But far from being part of a grand story of espionage,

the crime was in fact a story of jealous lovers.

A lover, a mistress, an angry assassin.

An unremarkable police matter,

just enough to inspire the theater.

And yet...

Is it the triviality of the affair or something more intimate

that justifies your despondency?

I deplore the very cruel, and

undoubtedly, useless death

of an innocent.

Brutally strangled.

A certain Freluche.

What's the matter? Stand up, Monsieur.

You were looking for an English spy.

Well, it's a woman.

Agnès Guinguet, so-called goddaughter of Lalande

and mistress of the poor Peilly.

She strung you along, gentlemen.

You betrayed me, you snake!

She had no choice. She's my witness.

She betrayed no one, knowing nothing of the flute's whereabouts.

Careful!

It belonged to the Baron's grandmother...

I've the same one at the castle.

No! Oh no!

No! Not the porcelain figurine!

Despicable thug,

taking it out on art, the foundation of civilization!

I forbid you!

You can forbid, Madame.

Nothing is off limits to me. The statue means nothing to me.

I'm not of your world. I don't

give a damn about your foundation.

Mademoiselle, do something.

I was given the mission of finding this flute.

Wherever it is, I will search for it.

And if you tire of my goodwill, we'll go to the police station

where you'll be tortured at the stake.

Do you know what the stake is?

Yes, Monsieur. Well, I...

I've seen engravings of it in a work about exotic...

customs.

Very well. Then choose.

The flute or the stake.

You killed her! Why?

How could you, Agnès?

Indeed, how could I have?

I loved her.

Do you hear? I loved her.

Me, too.

The beauty told me all about you.

You're lying.

We loved with a love that blossomed in the flesh.

We were to marry.

You, marry, Monsieur le Myosotis?

That's too much!

Is that all that she promised you?

It's only me.

The life of this woman is in your hands.

Pull the trigger, please.

Go ahead!

- In the name of the law! - What law?

The law of God is above the law of man.

Doesn't the Bible say "eye for eye, tooth for tooth"?

I loved her. I loved her!

The commissioner, too, spent the night with the young lady.

Better inspector than musician.

- Bravo for your success. - Thank you.

Now I'm waiting for justice to be done.

Nothing will be done.

How so? There's lèse-majesté.

The Countess d'Arranet will testify.

The flute never left the king's apartments.

The rumor circulating was false.

The Austrian ambassador cannot use this pretext

to turn down the alliance.

Thanks to you, Bourdeau.

No, I'm not a monster.

Some were saved by their art with the sword.

Others by art with the brush.

Master Lavalée hardly suffered from his stay in London.

Did you, Lavalée?

Indeed. But all my canvases,

my life's work, my posterity has been reduced to ashes.

That's enough.

I couldn't resist the urge to have my portrait done.

Come here, Nicolas.

That's nice.

On my desk.

You'll find a letter.

A brief sent to me from Mr. James Harris.

Several of our agents are held in terrible conditions

in a London prison.

He will oversee with goodwill

the release of one of our spies against the release of your lady spy.

I know.

Justice will take care of the rest.

And I wouldn't dream of interfering in your police inquiry.

Nevertheless...

Delivering her to the English would avoid a public trial

which could reveal some very nasty stuff.

You wanted her dead, no?

And the agreement with Austria?

It will happen or not.

Austria has problems with the Prussians.

But our war with the English is unavoidable.

It's for this day, at midnight.

There. I'm finished.

James Harris was informed of your capture.

You will be released.

Do you know what he does to agents who have failed?

You practice a very cruel and dangerous game,

of which you know the rules.

If I stay here, I could inform on the English...

Do you know where we are?

This is the last residence of poor unfortunate Saül François Peilly.

From here, he took his last flight.

I have no trust in you, Madame.

I don't know what lies the next pack of lies will bring.

Undoubtedly, you were trained abroad. Whatever.

You owe me something.

Something very dear.

I owe you nothing.

You owe me the life of the poor Freluche.

So, you too were smitten by her.

You disappoint me greatly, Marquis.

I have the task of organizing

the conditions of your escape.

You're going to escape.

The bars are still sawed off.

You only have to take the same route.

I've refused better, Madame.

I won't escape.

I want a fair trial, here, in my country.

If you're still here at dawn,

tomorrow, before noon, you'll be before the firing squad.

You don't have the right.

In times of war,

an armed spy who is captured is shot forthwith.

That's a fact, but we're not at war.

It's midnight, Madame.

War with England was just declared.

We are reconciled in front of everybody.

Are we?

We talked about your behavior.

Everything always ends by working itself out.

The proof.

Come see.

Excuse me.

You seem a little sad, Nicolas.

Is it the effect of this damn war?

No. It's just that the champagne is warm.

Subtitles: Eclair Media