Original subtitles

THE DROWNED MAN IN THE GRAND CANAL

- This sea... - What about it?

- Is there no way to... - Calm it?

No, Duke.

Only the Creator can do that,

but it seems at this moment

he has other things to do.

The English are splitting up.

A breach has opened.

Give the order to attack.

Attack?

Attack...

Attack now, sail between them

and fire cannons from both sides.

Won't we risk a collision?

Quickly, sir! They're regrouping.

My cousin the king has imposed your presence

to guarantee my safety, not to give me orders.

- The English are at our mercy! - I'm a prince by royal blood!

Give the order, sir.

The order... The order...

The order...

Fire!

- The English are here! - Load the cannons.

- We have to attack. - Load the cannons!

This way!

- She's here. - The queen!

Your majesty...

The prince of Fersen.

Majesty, all this is folly. In your state...

Come now, Fersen. Don't be a kill-joy.

Rather, act as befits my devoted admirer.

Careful, my dear,

that boy will make you lose your head.

Damn, he reeks of garlic.

Let her be, my friend. She predicts that, one day,

you'll make me lose my head.

If that's all,

then it is already done.

Your beauty defies the gods.

Bad day for the redhead, inspector.

Bad indeed. Who are you, sir?

Commissioner Renard. At your service.

So?

Thus, at Ouessant, for a short moment,

victory was within our reach.

Victory...

The complete annihilation of the English flotilla was possible.

The French flotilla, victorious after its first battle

for American independence.

What unfathomable consequences!

Mr. de la Motte-Picquet,

why didn't you give the order to attack?

I was only the commander of the ship.

The duke, as prince by blood,

had the unique authority to command, Your Majesty.

We didn't lose, as far as I know.

The English suffered heavy losses.

As did we, unfortunately.

You've long sought

the envied and lucrative post of admiral of the flotilla.

Admit it's mine by right.

I admit nothing!

Who can tell me about the Duke of Chartres' actions?

Ranreuil, you protected my cousin,

but you had another task.

Ranreuil!

Upon my orders, the Marquis of Ranreuil had twin missions.

To ensure the safety of Prince Philippe, duke of Chartres,

and to observe his behavior under fire.

I'm listening, Marquis.

By not giving the appropriate order at the right time,

and this only from concern for his personal safety,

the Duke of Chartres

behaved as only his quality of Great of the Realm allows.

With opportune cowardice.

This man has lost his senses!

Continue, Marquis.

The Duke's role was to guarantee a victory.

I demand reparation.

The Marquis regained consciousness 2 weeks later.

He faced death, but he fought back,

and his heroic battle has not affected his mind.

Have you counted the dead, sir?

Stay!

We're not done.

You wanted the flotilla, you'll have the hunters,

also called the "light horses."

Prove yourself more substantial than your troops.

That overconfident rascal!

He must pay for this outrage!

The ultimate price!

There's nothing simpler than to have him killed.

No. That would be too easy.

He's protected by the king.

I want him to suffer 1,000 deaths

and fall slowly

into disgrace before he dies.

His fall will bring down his master, the infamous Sartine,

who will also pay for his treachery.

As for the king, his turn will come, in time.

What, Lamoure? Speak. It's clear you've something to say.

Sir, caution would...

Caution?

Caution?

Caution keeps you from peril,

so much that one might imagine oneself immortal.

I want heads. Start with le Floch's.

May I use your valet?

What's a valet when we're talking about the fall of a king?

Lamoure, you're at the commissioner's command.

Like many in Versailles,

Chartres lives from loans and theft.

He counted on his posting as Admiral

to rebuild his depleted fortune, and now, he hates you.

My path is replete with enemies.

I'm still here.

But this one is a royal prince.

His powers are immense, and his impunity, complete.

The English guns spared you, but he won't.

Making him admiral would mean the deaths of hundreds of men.

Appoint generals based on merit, and our army will be invincible.

Damn, Nicolas. One might think you a republican.

Alright.

Your move.

The king charged you with finding the queen's necklace,

also called "the Skeleton Key?"

Yes.

The cost of the theft and its circumstances

will provoke a new scandal.

The queen is such a spender.

The labels multiply, one of them is

- "Madame Deficit." - What should we call her?

Has the king spoken to you about a specter?

A specter?

For some time now,

a ghost robed in flames

has been stealing piss pots from the Versailles' bedchambers,

sowing panic among the servants.

- They have fun in Versailles. - Don't laugh, Nicolas.

The servants tell their friends and families.

The rumor is that the devil haunts Versailles.

The king, elected by God,

must restore order or the people will doubt him.

King by divine right. Who believes that?

You! You...

You...

How could you dishonor my master so?

You, the little marquis...

- You... - Watch out, sir.

Foul rascal! Son of a commoner!

You bastard dog, born an orphan

from some unknown belly...

- Come, Nicolas. - That's right, run away!

Rest assured that with me, your little countess

will learn the pleasures of love!

Nicolas!

You played your role with verve and loquaciousness

worthy of the best plays.

True, le Floch's temper greatly helped.

That man is so predictable.

Eat, eat.

Go on!

What? Don't you like it?

Too much pepper?

Too much garlic? Too much of everything?

Mrs. Renard,

our guest doesn't like your stew.

I'm not surprised.

Eat, Lamoure.

You don't know who will eat you.

Go on!

The specter!

Help me!

The specter!

The specter!

The devil... The devil...

Did you doubt him?

Come now, let's finish this.

The body was found floating in the canal.

He was pulled out this morning.

Make way. I'm the commissioner.

At Châtelet, sir. Here, the police are my responsibility.

Commissioner Renard.

I'm empowered by His Majesty

to proceed in all places and in all matters.

It would be strange when the investigator is the suspect.

Excuse me?

Turn him over. It's well-known

that the victim, Mr. Lamoure, head valet of the Duke of Chartres,

gravely offended you yesterday.

- Where were you last night? - And you, sir?

The Marquis of Ranreuil and I were at the Arranet manse.

I can testify to that.

I'm defeated.

But know that I'll be sure to report the manner

used to recuperate this investigation.

Report it, then.

Dry, in a drowned man's mouth?

Be sure to take all measures

necessary for the body to be taken to Châtelet.

A curious idea, the king supporting an insurrection in America

with the avowed aim of establishing a republic.

Your valet, Lamoure, died quite opportunely.

Yes. A day after a public altercation with you.

The coincidence is pleasing.

And suits you...

You missed me before the king.

Know that I won't miss you.

Marquis of Ranreuil,

Nicolas le Floch.

Neither noble nor common,

your place is nowhere.

That sounds like your valet.

You'll fall.

And from so high that you'll have plenty of time

to regret being born.

Hey there, sir! Take it easy!

I'm not Lamoure. Let go of that club.

- Ah! You sure insulted him. - Well said, sir!

- Forgive my tardiness... - Shhh!

Listen to that exquisite voice.

He's a renowned castrato.

A certain Balbo, hailed as the new Farinelli.

A magnificent soprano.

Did you know he composes his own music?

No.

Doesn't it sound like Lully?

Not at all.

- That was a century ago. - Nicolas...

Get out! I can't hear myself!

They say you're investigating the Skeleton Key theft.

Yes.

The queen doesn't hide her misadventure.

She even seems to think it amusing.

According to one of her launderers, Mrs. Renard.

The commissioner's wife?

Yes.

Being suspected of Lamoure's murder

doesn't seem to really bother le Floch.

You asked for a gradual fall,

and the man still has a strong reputation.

I didn't force the matter.

Lamoure would disagree.

I await the next step with interest,

but also impatience.

What about the queen?

Good.

Good, very good.

As to my pay...

Stop, will you?

You'll be handsomely paid when I desire it.

My holdings come from the queen.

My ancestors are as worthy as yours.

No doubt.

Especially when you're protected by your husband.

- Does he live here? - No.

The importance of his work keeps him on the move.

What can you tell me about the Skeleton Key theft?

It was stolen from the queen at the ball,

where she was accompanied by Fersen.

That the thief is a fishmonger

and that your officers were unable to prevent the theft.

Impressive.

And where did you hear all that?

From the queen herself.

Don't let me keep you.

Suffer, ma'am,

while telling me when you learn something new.

Servant.

Chew on this.

It's excellent for your breath.

Ah, Nicolas.

Finally, you're back.

I could have intercepted that fishmonger.

But a policeman interfered, commissioner Renard.

He didn't try to intercept the thief.

He even kept me from doing so.

The man didn't seem upset by my failure.

He's a rather...

unscrupulous commissioner,

who used to seize and then resell at high prices

many explicit pamphlets and writings.

Sartine had him revoked.

But some influence brought him back to power.

His woman serves the queen.

I know.

And I'm not pleased that these foxes have entered the hen house.

The Countess of Arranet kept me constantly appraised of your state,

but I feared the worst.

You would have become commissioner.

How are things in Paris?

By moving to Versailles, the royalty has cut itself off from the people.

It no longer feels

the feverish pulse that animates the streets.

This was found in the mouth of a corpse

floating in the Grand Canal,

that Renard and de Chartres publicly accused me of murdering.

Why would you have...

The day before, he called me a bastard and a commoner.

And does that bother you so much?

No.

But then he insulted the Countess.

So I...

pushed him into the canal.

This club matches the impact on his skull.

We could say it was the crime instrument.

Yes, if our friend Sanson had immediately proceeded to

cut open Lamoure's body.

This face, this grimace,

is only observed when a heart explodes.

But Lamoure was solid,

of strong build, and well-maintained.

So?

See these seeds.

These are datura.

Their toxin causes a horrible death,

that starts with terrifying hallucinations and pains

that end only when the heart quits

under the atrocious pressure.

Damn!

My suspect lost consciousness.

Could you tell me if he still lives?

And what has your suspect done?

Something he won't admit yet.

You make my blood curdle.

The king wants answers.

Apparently...

Ah, Nicolas...

I'll be glad to get some fresh air with Mr. de La Fayette.

These seeds were in the victim's stomach,

with what seemed to be a lamb and garlic stew.

Like the one I smelled

at Mrs. Renard's house.

Unfortunately, you can't convict anyone for bad cooking.

Here.

?Dearly beloved...?

This is no doubt an extract from the opera that Mr. Balbo is preparing,

a Neapolitan, a castrato.

An exceptional singer, but a terrible composer.

What links him and the drowned man?

I couldn't tell you.

But Balbo has been pestering everyone to finance his opera,

a piece he calls The Aztec's Gold.

There's blood, passion,

panting hearts thrown to the fire,

abominable sacrifices, and unforgivable treacheries.

- Theater. - Yes.

His business is avoided

because the man is subject to sudden crises of exaltation.

You've flattered him.

He's neither worse nor better than any other man.

Versailles is a place of swindlers and prostitutes,

where the greatest are never the least of these.

You never catch the big fish.

Have you read Voltaire as well?

Every enlightened soul reads Voltaire, Nicolas.

Love. Love...

What can you tell me about Lamoure, Mr. Balbo?

The same thing as you, sir.

I'm castrated, but not hindered at all.

My wake is peopled by cuckolds ignorant of their fate.

Glad I'm not married.

But you know that I'm speaking of

a certain Lamoure from the Duke of Chartres.

To whom do I owe the honor?

You know that too, sir.

Vicente Balbo knows no more than what the rumors say.

The man was, by the act of a certain police officer who

he may have outraged yesterday at the Grand Canal, murdered.

Have you met this man?

The policeman? It's the 2nd time, I think.

The 1st time, he'd used the graces of my voice

to lower the resistances of a beautiful admirer.

And the other?

The other, happened to Balbo.

Lamoure had only disdain for my work.

He had me thrown out when I solicited

his master's financial support.

Does one kill for that?

If you had to slay everyone who threw you out

or insulted you,

Versailles would be a cemetery.

Assassino! Assassino!

Your garlic-laden breath is enough to kill a man, sir.

How might you explain the presence of this

in the dead man's mouth?

Ma!

It seems that someone wants to make us

the butts of this macabre joke, no?

Because we are to be bound,

might you have some money to invest in my work?

"Isn't the point of making a skeleton key

"to slut about?"

The rest, please.

"The redhead

"threw hers over the mills.

"Upon some Ranreuil, it ends its path."

You won't regret it.

Are you sure?

For 2 coins, I'll make you happy.

Alright.

Well, le Lutin...

You're earning little. Are you hooking?

Are you lacking work?

I think you'll give me some.

Le Floch.

Damn! The commissioner?

An excellent fighter.

Despite your dissolute morals, you're the best I know.

I can't help liking the rapier as much as the sword.

Tomorrow night, at the place I tell you,

you'll kill him.

And if he kills me first?

You'll only have lost your miserable life.

- What about you? - Me?

In either case, I win.

What's the meaning of this, sir?

Pick it up.

I said pick it up!

Open it.

Read it.

According to this hodgepodge, the queen gambles,

the queen drinks,

the queen enjoys licentious texts and obscene engravings.

The redhead carrying the king's heir

rolls in the mire.

Nothing very original, Your Majesty.

What did you say? Do you dare?

I said, there's nothing new in the mud

that is constantly thrown at Your Majesty.

Except my name, recently added to it, Your Majesty.

Instead of drowning discourteous gentlemen,

find my necklace.

Is that all, Your Majesty?

Don't enjoy your own conceit.

You're only what we make you.

You're no one if we decide it is so.

A human being doesn't restrict oneself to a title, Your Majesty.

True. He's judged by his work.

One of my friends has suggested

you be assigned a mission that suits your abilities.

You'll investigate a matter of piss pots.

Because that's my wish, Mr. le Floch.

Get your hands on that smelly specter.

Go on. Go.

Show us of what you're capable.

Duty awaits you, you modern Vespasian.

Let's play!

Would you like to play, ma'am?

For Balbo, I don't know anything yet.

But I'm certain the Renard couple is involved

in the Skeleton Key theft.

Fine. But what's their motive?

I can't see any other motive besides gold.

But as support,

I've found in Mrs. Renard's room

this costume that matches your description

and this libelous pamphlet.

Everyone has a copy in Versailles...

Not an entire bundle.

Alright. You have the woman. What about her husband?

Besides my instinct, nothing much.

My friend,

what folly!

It's sublime!

I wished to express my gratitude.

For what, ma'am?

The diamond.

I didn't know you were so rich.

A courier brought it to me earlier, in Versailles.

- From me? - Yes.

In Versailles?

Yes. The queen herself complimented me.

Why do you look so annoyed?

Forgive me, ma'am,

but this gift isn't from me.

Gentlemen, please!

Forgive me.

A beautiful jewel.

By Faucillon. Do you know them?

By reputation.

Beyond my means.

Return this ring to them.

Please.

Call to French Nobles Lafayette

Lafayette?

Are you going to America?

No.

"To find out more about the Skeleton Key,

"rendezvous at 8 o'clock at the Samaritan municipal pump."

- Obviously, it's anonymous. - Obviously.

Doubt it not,

I would rise and conquer.

I have little taste for rising in the night

to wander the streets.

I hope this is worth it.

I had to request your presence, lieutenant general, sir.

Witnesses say 2 men entered...

2 men, in a manner of speaking.

One of the 2 is a notorious invert, named Jean Lutin.

And the other?

The commissioner, Nicolas le Floch.

And since, neither has left?

No.

Gentlemen...

Nicolas.

Nicolas!

This way, gentlemen.

Commissioner le Floch is under arrest.

Le Floch!

Must you attack people so?

You cut that Jean Lutin in half.

For what, indeed?

So, let's see...

You're suspected of a murder in Versailles,

you appear in libelous pamphlets implicating the queen,

and the damned Skeleton Key can't be found.

Not accounting for the expensive gift

you gave to your fiancée

that has all of Versailles talking.

As for Lutin, he knew the underworld.

He may have had a reason to blackmail you.

Unless it was just a lover's spat.

Does that explain such savagery?

Well, you are known for your temper.

Since Ouessant you've been belligerent.

You're no longer yourself.

Le Floch! Le Floch!

Any more snide accusations to make?

Enough!

As for you, Renard,

respect your office, even if you won't respect the man.

I understand him.

I was myself accused of murdering a fly.

Who would dare throw the 1st stone?

Me!

The king asked me to find the queen's necklace.

- I must get out. - Bourdeau will replace you.

He was present the night of the theft.

The king will understand.

As for you,

the king's justice will reveal the truth, whatever it may be.

I don't have the money yet,

since I haven't obtained the admiralty that was mine by right.

The queen's necklace, the pamphlets, le Floch...

I took great risks for you, sir.

Do you doubt my credit?

No.

It's just that, like sister Anne,

I climb my tower and see nothing coming.

Gold, sir...

What more handsome proof of loyalty than gold?

No insolence and no threats.

You'll be paid in good time.

Le Floch is trapped in my web,

but perhaps I was overzealous?

Foul rascal! Commoner's son!

My ancestors are as worthy as yours.

- You're under arrest. - Bastard.

You're only what we make you.

Neither a noble nor a commoner, your place is nowhere.

Someone wants to make us the butts of this macabre joke.

You're nobody beyond our good will.

You've lost your senses.

Haven't I seen enough of you?

Surely, sir, surely.

But my conscience obligates me to trouble you.

You must free le Floch immediately.

Why, pray tell?

It isn't his reputation I seek to save,

but that of our entire police force

during these difficult times.

The people no longer respect the uniform.

The people are angry with power in general.

And you're first in line.

Get to the point, sir!

For now, the streets don't know about le Floch's arrest.

You're uncertain of his guilt?

I am as well.

For Lamoure, he has an alibi.

Lutin, legitimate defense.

Do we need a judicial error?

Free him.

I'll follow him, and get evidence to convict or not

and no one will be able to reproach you.

So, you had my prey freed?

Too bad.

Anything can be undone. All it takes is the right price.

Indeed.

I'll have the money tomorrow, as I just had an idea.

To return to grace,

le Floch must please the queen

by resolving the enigma of the specter.

Accompany him.

Balbo will be present, and so will the Skeleton Key.

Take advantage of the panic

and kill le Floch.

Make sure the necklace is found on his body.

With any luck,

this crime of lèse-majesté could send his body

to Grève square, where it will be quartered.

A fine end to the opera.

Clever.

Your company inspires me.

To be continued...

Subtitles: Eclair Media