Original subtitles

I can't. You mustn't tempt me, Monsieur.

But I must.

For in exchange you're going to send this message for me?

He's sending.

My right-hand man is sending. I've missed his signal.

I'll lose my job and my pension.

With 5,000 you could buy a nice little house with two acres of ground.

Two acres?

And the interest on the remaining 20,000

will yield you about 1,000 a year for the rest of your life.

1,000 a year and two acres. What am I to do?

Well, it's not very difficult.

What is it?

Just send the signal.

It's to the Minister of the Interior in Paris.

Heavens...

There you are, you see it? Won't take long.

Yes, but...

You shall have nectarines and peaches and plums and all the rest.

Now you're rich.

Yes.

- But at what a price! - Listen, my friend,

I don't want to cause you any remorse!

Believe me, when I tell you you have done wrong to no man.

Indeed, you benefited mankind!

Lucien, please go! I told you I wanted to see no one!

- How enchanting you look. - Please!

Be calm! I will do nothing to hurt you. Your friendship is far too precious to me.

If it were, you wouldn't stay here another instant.

Forgive me, but I am not here only on your account.

Then for what reason?

I call to see the Baron.

You know that my devotion to you is unbounded.

And my passion for you is limited only by the discretion

which society imposes upon us.

But the fact remains that I have information

of the very greatest importance for the Baron.

But you can't tell me?

It would be better if I told him myself.

Lucien, you are speaking the truth? You do have news for him?

News for which he'll be grateful to me for the rest of his life.

My dear Baron, I'm delighted to see you.

I came expressly to see you.

That's good. That's rich. Did you indeed?

- Then let me tell you... - No, Baron! Let me tell you!

I have information that could affect your entire fortune.

You're a rich man now despite the losses you've suffered recently.

I can restore those losses and make you ten times a millionaire

What do you say?

- You have holdings in Spain... - Of course!

- That's the greater part of your fortune... - Be quiet, woman!

I was working late with the ministery tonight

when a telegram reached my desk.

That's a copy of it. The king Don Carlos has escaped

the vigilance exercised over him at Bourges

and has returned to Spain.

Barcelona has risen in his favor.

Merciful heavens, I'm ruined.

Nothing of the sort.

This news will not be released until tomorrow morning at the earliest.

Act now and you could become the richest man in France.

Sell every bond you possess.

Forgive me my noble suspicions.

Accept the heartfelt gratitude of an old man.

I love you like a son.

And so he sent me to treat with the Turkish chief of staff.

Unhappily, the negotiations failed.

On my return to Janina, I found my benefactor dying.

The Turks had treacherously used my absence in the period of truce

to attack and destroy Ali Pasha.

Nevertheless, gentlemen, his confidence in me remained secure to the end.

On his deathbed, he reposed his favorite mistress

and her daughter to my care.

Naturally, Mr. le Comte, you've fulfilled his wishes?

The Turks had plundered the town.

The woman and her daughter had disappeared.

Have you any idea of what became of them?

No, though I caused every inquiry to be made, I fear they were sold into slavery.

Can you produce any witnesses to the truth of what you have asserted?

Surely, Mr. President, the most convincing proof of my innocence

is the total lack of any witness who might have come forward

in support of this scurrilous and lifeless attack on my honor,

which I utterly repudiate.

There is, however contrary to your expectation,

one witness who will come forward to testify.

In this letter the witness claims to have special knowledge

of the events that we've been investigating.

I take it, Mr. le Comnte, you would have an objection

to this evidence being called...

- Who is this witness? - The letter is unsigned.

The writer of the letter is waiting in the lobby.

Call the witness in.

Madame, if you have true information

bearing on the case of Mr. le Comte de Morcert,

this committee must know your identity.

I must beg you therefore to lay aside your veil.

Madame, you have stated in this letter

that you were an eyewitness of the events at Jannina.

I was indeed, monsieur.

In what manner did they concern you?

Upon them depended my father's life.

I am Haydée, daughter of Ali Tepelini, pasha of Janina,

and of Vasiliki, his beloved wife.

Madame, can you provide us with some proof of your identity?

I can, monsieur.

These documents must be read by an interpreter.

In the meanwhile, would you, madame, tell us in your own words

of your recollection of the events at Janina?

At that time the armies of Ali Tepelini were fighting the armies of the port.

The garrison of our town was commanded by a French officer

Fernand Mondego.

My father reposed such faith in this man

but when the opportunity arose

he sent him to treat with the enemy at Constantinople

but Mondego made his own terms with him.

He returned to Janina pretending his mission had succeeded.

That same night he opened the gates of the castle to the enemy.

And with his own hands murdered my father.

My mother and I were held by Turkish soldiers

and forced to witness the scene.

On Mondego's orders my father's head was severed from his body

and carried off as a prize to the Grand Seigneur.

Madame, you're asking us to believe that a French officer

committed the crime you have described?

All I have told you is the truth.

We were delivered into his hands, and he sold us into slavery.

Can you prove it?

The proof is in the hands of your interpreter.

Well?

These, Mr. le Presidant, are the birth and baptismal

certificates of Haydée, daughter of Ali Tepelini, Pasha of Janina.

- And the other documents? - This one reads...

"I, Hasan Yan, a slave merchant,"

"and furnisher of the harem of His Highness,"

"acknowledge purchasing a young Christian slave named Haydée,"

"rightful daughter of the late lord Ali Tepelini"

"and her mother Vasiliki, from General Fernand Mondego,"

"a French officer formerly in the service of Ali Tepelini."

"This purchase was made on His Highness's account"

"for the sum of 400,000 livres." Signed "Hasan Yan".

And the last document?

A receipt signed by the Vizier of the Grand Seigneur.

The girl Haydée was released into the custody

of the Count of Monte Cristo.

Mr. le Comte, what have you to say?

It is a wicked plot contrived by my enemies.

Do you recognize this lady?

I have never seen her before in my life.

Murderer!

Murderer! You know me as I know you!

It was you who slew my father.

It was you who raised his head upon a spear.

See, his blood is still upon your brow.

I could not forget him in a thousand years.

And if I did, there is still the scar upon his hand.

Scar?

Deep and livid.

It crosses the palm of his left hand.

Mr le Comte, I must ask you to show us your left hand.

My dear Count...

Thank you. - Do sit down.

Thank you.

I think you served your purpose very well, Major Cavalcanti.

That is reassuring. Very reassuring indeed.

Everything is going splendidly.

In the whole of Paris, there are only three topics of conversation.

And may I know what they are?

Firstly, this business of Morcerf. Have you not heard?

That a committee of his fellow peers have convicted him

of felony, treason and outrage? What else?

Our friend Danglars extraordinary coup on the stock exchange.

They say that he's increased his fortune overnight by...

30 million livres.

My dear Count, you know it all. You simply wish to tease an old man.

Not in the least.

There might be something that hasn't reached my ears.

You did mention three topics, I believe.

The third scarcely seems worth mentioning now.

But do mention it, nonetheless.

I was referring naturally to the forthcoming of Mlle. Eugénie to my son.

Your son, Cavalcanti?

A mere slip of the tongue. A manner of speaking.

And no, Cavalcanti, it was neither.

- But I assure you. - You cannot assure me.

I...

I don't understand. What are you trying to say to me?

Just this. The play goes on, but your part is over.

I have no further use for you.

What?

You will leave for Italy first thing tomorrow morning.

No, you can't.

You'll need me more than ever now.

It's the betrothal ceremony at long last tomorrow night.

As Andrea's father I must be there.

No you will not be there, Cavalcanti.

It is the perfect exit for you.

I see that you're in earnest.

- But what of Andrea? - Benedetto, do you mean?

He must remain on stage until the final curtain.

Here is your fare back to Florence.

And 5,000 livres to lose at the gambling tables.

Major Cavalcanti is leaving now, Bertuccio. Will you see him to his carriage?

Good evening, Mr. de Morcerf.

We have not come here, Monsieur,

to exchange false professions of friendship.

We are here to demand an explanation of you.

At the opera?

It hardly seems the place for such a demand.

We have sought you all day, but when a man hides himself,

when he doesn't allow anyone to enter his house,

on the pretext that he's in the bath, at the table or in bed,

one must address him wherever one can find him.

I'm not difficult of access, sir.

If my memory serves me correctly, you were at my house yesterday.

Yesterday I was at your house, because then I didn't know who you were.

Where have you come from, sir? You do not appear

to be in the full possession of your senses.

Providing I succeed in making you understand that I will be revenged,

I shall be reasonable enough.

I do not understand, sir. And even if I did,

your tone is too high.

Leave the box.

Well, well, I see you wish to quarrel with me.

Let me give you some advice and don't forget it.

It is a bad habit to make a display of a challenge.

Display is not becoming to everyone, Mr. de Morcerf.

I consider your glove thrown, and will return it to you around a bullet.

Leave the box.

- What have you done to him? - I?

Nothing, at least personally.

But there must be some reason for this terrible scene.

He blames me for his father's disgrace.

And are you to blame?

I am indirectly responsible.

What do you intend to do?

As certain as I sit here, I shall kill him at 10h00 tomorrow morning.

I was the first to discover Duprez.

I was the first to applaud him.

Come in.

Good evening, Mr. Beauchamp. Take a seat.

Sir, I was just now here with Mr. de Morcerf, as you saw.

I'm very glad to see, Mr. Beauchamp, that you are more sober than he was.

Sir, Albert was wrong, I admit, to display so much anger.

And I come on my own account to apologize for him.

And having done so, on my own account only,

you understand, Mr. le Comte, I would add that I believe you

too honorable a man to refuse me an explanation

of your connection with Janina.

You may believe what you please, Mr. Beauchamp.

You will certainly get no explanation from me.

There are occasions when probity commands...

The Count of Monte Cristo

is commanded only by the Count of Monte Cristo.

I do what I please, Mr. Beauchamp.

And it is always well done.

Honest men are not to be paid in such coin.

Honor demands guarantees.

I am a living guarantee.

Morcerf and I have blood in our veins which we wish to spill.

That is our mutual guarantee.

Tell Mr. le Vicomte so, and that tomorrow morning, before 10h00,

I shall see the colour of his.

Then it only remains for me to make arrangements for the duel.

It's quite immaterial to me, sir,

and it was very unnecessary to disturb me at the opera for such a trifle.

Tell your client that even though I am the insulted party,

I leave the choice of arms entirely to him,

and without discussion, without dispute,

I will accept whatever he may choose, for I am sure to gain.

Sure to gain?

Certainly, sir, otherwise I would not fight Monsieur de Morcerf.

I shall kill him, I cannot help it.

Pistols then at 8h00 in the Bois de Vincennes.

Very well sir. And now that this small matter is arranged

would you please leave me to enjoy the opera?

And tell your friend Albert to go home and get some sleep.

I came here as soon as I could as I got your message.

- What have you to say to me? - I promised to keep you informed.

You've discovered the identity of Monte Cristo?

- He is Monte Cristo. - I'm not interested in riddles.

My agents have been busy.

They've been as far afield as Rome, Malta, Vienna.

His origins are obscure, but his birth is registered in Malta.

Every available aspect of his career has been checked and cross-checked.

My investigations have revealed

nothing even remotely sinister.

We're safe.

I hope so.

Why are you obsessed by doubts?

Any life so free of blame strikes me as suspicious.

I believe you're still afraid.

Why?

Why?

Because Morcerf stands condemned

on the evidence of Monte Cristo's mistress.

I am used to searching into the hearts of men.

There is something in Monte Cristo, some devil of destruction lurking there.

Excellency, Mme. de Morcerf.

You will not kill my son.

Edmond.

By what name did you call me, Mme. de Morcerf?

Your own, Edmond.

As mine is Mercedes.

I know no one of that name now, madame.

Mercedes is dead.

I both live and remember.

I alone recognize the man who came to Paris

calling himself the Count of Monte Cristo.

As I know it was you who brought disgrace upon Mr. de Morcerf.

Fernand, do you mean?

Since we are mentioning names, let us remember them all.

You see? I am not mistaken.

I have cause to say "spare my son".

Who told you, madame, that I have any cause to be hostile towards your son?

Believe me, it was not Albert.

A mother has a twofold sight, Edmond.

I followed him to the opera. I know what happened.

Then you know that the son of Fernand publicly insulted me.

For pity's sake listen to me.

My son blames you for his father's misfortunes.

You are mistaken, madame. It is not a misfortune.

It is a punishment.

It is not I who have struck him down, but Providence.

What is Janina to you?

What injury has Fernand Mondego done you in betraying Ali Tepelini?

It does not concern me madame. You are quite right.

If I have sworn to avenge myself

it is not on the General Mondego nor on the Comte de Morcerf

but on the fisherman.

Fernand!

The husband of the Catalan Mercedes.

Edmond, I am the only culprit! If you must take revenge against me,

who had not the fortitude to bear your absence and my loneliness...

Why was I absent? Why were you alone?

Because you had been arrested and were a prisoner.

Why was I arrested? Why was I a prisoner?

- I do not know. - You do not, madame.

At least, I hope not.

But I will tell you.

I was arrested and became a prisoner on the day I should have married you.

A man named Danglars

wrote this letter which the fisherman Fernand himself posted.

"The Procurer du Roi is informed"

"by a friend of the throne and religion that..."

My god.

Because of this letter, you...

I was arrested, madame, as you very well know.

But you do not know how long that arrest lasted.

You do not know that for 14 years

I rotted in a dungeon of the Chateau d'If.

You do not know that every day of those 14 years

I renewed the vow of vengeance that I had sworn on the first day.

And that is why, on account of the living Mercedes,

I have sworn to avenge myself on Fernand.

And I have revenged myself.

Are you sure that Fernard did this?

I am satisfied, madame, that what I have told you is correct.

Besides, this is not much more odious

than a Frenchman by adoption deserting to the English at Waterloo,

a Spaniard by birth fighting against the Spaniard,

a mercenary in the pay of Ali Tepelini

having betrayed and murdered Ali Tepelini.

And compared with these things,

what is this letter that you have just read?

A lover's deception,

which the woman who married that man most certainly ought to forgive.

But not so the man who should have married her.

The French did not revenge themselves on the traitor.

The Spaniards did not shoot the traitor.

Ali Tepelini, lying in his tomb, left the traitor unpunished.

But I, betrayed, sacrificed, and buried,

have risen from my tomb by the grace of God to punish that man.

He sent me for that purpose.

And here I am.

Forgive, Edmond.

Forgive for my sake, who loves you still.

Impossible.

Impossible.

Edmond.

When I call you Edmond, why do you not call me Mercedes?

Mercedes?

Mercedes.

You're right.

That name still has its charms.

It is the first time for a long time that I pronounce it so distinctly.

Mercedes.

I must revenge myself. I tell you I must.

Revenge yourself then, Edmond.

But let your vengeance fall upon the culprits,

on him, on me, but not on my son.

Edmond, my friend, all these years I have adored your name.

Believe me, guilty as I was, I too have suffered much.

You know the meaning of the word.

I have seen him whom I loved on the point of murdering my son.

What do you ask of me, madame?

Your son's life? Well, he should live.

Edmond.

Thank you.

Now you are exactly what I dreamed you were.

As I always loved you.

Just as well, perhaps, since I shall not have long to be loved by you.

What do you mean?

I say, Mercedes, since you command me,

I must die.

Why do you talk about dying?

You do not suppose that publicly outraged

in the face of a whole theater,

in front of your friends and those of your son,

challenged by a boy who will glory in my pardon as in a victory?

You do not suppose for one minute that I should wish to live?

But the duel will not take place. You have forgiven him.

It will take place, madam.

No!

But it will not be your son's blood that will stain the ground.

Edmond!

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