THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO
You are not to let anybody through.
Did you check everything?
I guarantee it works well.
Please try it out.
What is it?
An execution.
Either turn around or take another route.
Will it take long?
No. They're bringing the prisoner from the jail now.
They say she killed many children
Still in their mothers' wombs
They say she killed them
And God takes His revenge on earth
She, who prevented so many children
From looking into their mothers' eyes
At dawn, she will no longer see the light
And God takes His revenge on earth
Who will mourn Gervaise?
She was so very, very bad
Her place is in Hell
With her friend Lucifer
Out of the way!
It's crawling with uniforms.
Exactly, my friend.
They won't think escapees would be mad enough
to flaunt themselves under their noses.
Look, your father.
Who will mourn Gervaise?
She was so very, very bad
Her place is in Hell
With her friend Lucifer
When the Count of Monte Cristo asked me to meet you,
I nearly kissed his hands.
His request is a favor to me.
Because at last I can see you again and thank you.
For nothing, my boy. You owe me nothing.
But you saved my father from ruin and dishonor.
Alas, he died too soon to show his gratitude to you.
So allow the son to express the father's gratitude.
In short, you may ask anything of me.
The bank of Thomson & French want new markets in the East.
More precisely in Greece, in Janina.
- Janina? - Yes
It was an important stop for our army on the East Indies Route.
Alas, despite the Count of Morcerf's heroic resistance,
the Ottomans took the city.
I know. I questioned Mr. de Morcerf
about help given to the Sultan of Janina. What courage!
I wonder how the Turks finally won.
I heard that the Sultan might have been betrayed.
All the more reason to investigate before establishing a branch.
Do you think I could meet one of your captains, Mr. Morrel?
One of those who were involved at Janina?
The man you want is called Cocles... Captain Cocles.
He served 27 years under Morrel.
Now he is retired at Fecamp.
So let's go to Fecamp.
It'll be a change from this stinking place.
It's like a cemetery full of open graves.
You are not so far from the truth.
This is the Deep Sleep Potion.
Those who drink it are plunged into a profound slumber
which resembles death.
Another of Abbé Faria's recipes?
Yes.
But he wasn't sure of the formula.
Poor man.
He was so old.
Well, we'll see.
As for me, Count, I too know a recipe
which I am sure Faria didn't tell you about.
The elixir of happiness.
It always fails.
It depends on the cook.
With Madame de la Richardais, you could be happy.
Life should be sweet with your fortune.
How quickly we'd forget the past.
I can imagine you in London, then in Budapest...
St. Petersburg... Why not America?
America? You want me to put an ocean between me and my justice?
What you call justice is merely revenge.
Do you think I like being Monte Cristo?
I would be afraid to be his friend, Bertuccio.
He is terrifying, ruthless and cold.
I didn't want to become that man.
To be Edmond Dantès was enough. That's all I wanted from life.
But they prevented me. Villefort, Morcerf, Danglars...
Even that worm, Caderousse, who knew all and said nothing.
Trying to kill the young sailor who wanted nothing,
they created an avenger who returned for his dues.
Too bad for them!
Prepare the carriage. We're off in an hour.
You have three pillows, Granddad,
so you'll be able to see the sky from the window.
Maybe you'll see the comet everyone's talking about.
He's very grateful, but what Mr. Noirtier prefers
is the coming of the day, the dawn.
It reminds him of the sun over Austerlitz.
My dear, what are you doing here again?
Your place is not at the bedside of an invalid.
I was just helping. He had a bad day.
It was a day no different from his others.
Please, Héloise. He can hear us.
We need to talk to my father.
Shouldn't Valentine go out?
This concerns her.
And Barrois, try to dress differently.
You'll get us into trouble with these rags you keep wearing.
You may as well shout, "Long live the Emperor!"
These rags, Mr. Prosecutor, have seen great battlefields.
Battlefields which made France greater than ever.
And you needn't worry.
Mr. Noirtier and I never go out.
Father, we have good news.
Madame de Saint-Meran is coming soon from Marseille.
You understand what this means?
We can arrange Valentine's marriage with Franz d'Epinay.
Barrois, does my father wish to speak?
Yes. Mr. Noirtier disapproves of this marriage.
Barrois is talking complete nonsense.
You are wrong, Louise.
He can communicate.
The right eye for the vowels...
He winks once for "A,"
twice for "E," thrice for "I" and so on.
The left eye for the consonants.
Your poor father can't control his nerves, that's all.
But also...
He says this marriage will disinherit Valentine.
What?
But, Father...
Don't worry.
The estate will be yours for you are next in line.
And his entire estate will go to Saint Vincent de Paul.
He's losing his mind. I told you to confine him.
You see I am right.
My poor Valentine...
She visits him and he thanks her by
disinheriting her.
I'll ask Doctor d'Avrigny to visit him.
I can see that his mind is...
Monsieur just told me he knows why you are crying.
He'll do all he can to prevent the marriage.
- Will she marry? - Of course.
Despite your father's threats
What threats?
Let him leave his money to the poor ...
I've never run after money and it won't change.
Money, dear Héloise, is good for Danglars.
So glory alone interests you, I suppose.
No, dear, not glory either.
Glory is a plaything,
good enough only to satisfy children,
like Morcerf, for instance.
I have more exciting things.
The power to condemn to death or imprison for life... same thing.
I must just stay Crown Prosecutor by keeping in favor.
The Epinays are close to the King so Valentine will marry him,
despite her wishes.
Yes, I have 17 trunks, 11 baskets and 8 hat boxes.
Unload it and don't complain. It's just a lot of silk and satin.
Take it all to my room and get a servant to unpack it.
Ah, Villefort ... These coachmen are unbelievable!
They keep telling me I have too many cases.
What times!
Since when do coachmen tell ladies
how many bags to bring?
How beautiful I was the day you married my Helene!
Everything was beautiful that day.
Really?
I thought it was raining.
Isn't that what you've always told me?
Certainly it rained. It poured, a deluge!
But we had so much fun in the rain, my God.
Will you excuse me? I must attend to the kitchen.
Supper will be served at 10:00.
Your new wife is still churlish with me.
Yes, but...
She is not a new wife anymore.
It's been many years since Héloise and I...
Perhaps, but I can't get used to it.
What do you see in her?
Well, she... It seems to me...
You see? You shouldn't have married her.
Besides, I warned you, but you won't admit it.
Anyway, let's forget your harpy.
What about my angel? Yes, Valentine.
Valentine? She's very well, thank you.
But Valentine and the harpy, are they getting on?
They're making the best of things.
Meaning, they hate each other.
Anyway, it doesn't matter since Valentine is getting married.
Which means she'll be leaving here soon.
May God make her happy with Franz d'Epinay.
It's my only wish.
And mine as well, madam. I'll make sure of it.
I hope so.
Otherwise, my ghost will come and box your ears.
A staircase may not be
the ideal place for me to tell you this...
But be aware that this marriage is the last party I will attend.
The final ceremony I will see... not willingly, believe me...
Will be my funeral.
- Come now, why say this? - Because it is true.
So I want this marriage grand and beautiful.
I want it magnificent and moving.
I hope I'll cry. Yes, I do!
It's such a long time since I cried.
Since Helene's death, actually.
If you need money
to organize something really big...
Just tell me.
The Morrels have always been good to me.
The father, God bless him, and the son.
All this means is that...
If you were not sent by the young Maximilien,
I wouldn't have spoken.
But you'd be protecting a criminal.
I know.
But I am not blameless in all this, either.
I can't believe that a general...
Count of Morcerf and peer of France--
Forget all those high-sounding titles.
Morcerf the toad didn't have those at Janina.
There his name was Fernand Mondego.
He was only a lieutenant-colonel.
The sultan, Ali Pasha, named him general,
and the Turks enriched him for his betrayal.
That vile Mondego gave Janina up to the Turks
and caused the massacre of Ali Pasha and his family.
But you weren't there, Captain Cocles!
I arrived at the end, but above all...
I heard a witness.
- A witness? - Yes, Sir.
Haydee, Ali Pasha's very own daughter.
But you said the Sultan and his family were killed.
Everyone except Haydee.
The Turks followed their usual custom.
The fairest women were sold as slaves.
She was sent to a harem
to become a piece of meat for men's pleasure.
Now listen to me.
Since the Turks see Haydee as merchandise,
- we will buy her from them. - Impossible!
We'd pay at least 20 times her selling price,
which, given her youth and beauty, is already a lot.
And as well as the ransom,
we'd need a ship, arms, finance.
A fortune, Sir.
Supposing I find you a man who has this money.
I'm old, but I'd go.
I am cold.
But it's not cold here.
You say I cannot forgive, but if you'd heard Cocles' story,
you wouldn't forgive either.
Ah, Beauchamp, there you are.
Can journalists afford to play the stock exchange?
This is work, not play, my lord Count.
I am engaged
to investigate the Baron's latest losses.
Losses... impossible!
For some time, strangely, his luck has evaporated
and his fortune is slipping away.
But Danglars is a renowned financier.
He has just lost 5 million
in a risky enterprise in Mexican mines,
and it's the same with his sturgeon farms in St. Petersburg.
Really? You seem rather pleased.
You look like the cat who ate the cream.
Well, Count, today journalists live on others' misfortune.
Well, Mr. Cat, be happy
because soon you'll have all you want.
Janina.
- Jani...what? - Janina.
But I warn you. This cream is sickening.
You may vomit.
A ghost.
A ghost was in my room.
Calm down, Grandma. Ghosts don't exist.
It was wind in the curtains.
I'm not mad. I know what I saw. It was a ghost.
My poor husband came to warn me it's my turn to leave world.
What's wrong?
What's happening?
Nothing. Grandma had a bad dream.
Yes, that's it. I'm hysterical.
But only a ghost would break into the Crown Prosecutor's house.
Everyone knows you're inviolate from everyone...
Except from the dead!
I also looked out of the window and saw--
Yes, the imagination of young girls.
And yet...
He offered me a cup.
If you like, I'll get you some tea.
I don't want tea. I just want it to be day.
- And for things... - What things?
Your marriage, my girl. I want to see you married before I die.
That's impossible!
Why? Because nothing's ready? Too bad!
I wanted a grand wedding, something really wonderful.
No matter!
Let it be an intimate affair, but just let it happen.
A notary for the signatures, a priest mumbling a bit of Latin...
Don't worry.
I'll state in my will that no one has to wear mourning for me.
That way you can still enjoy the celebrations
even when I'm dead and buried.
Why are you crying?
You don't want me to die?
No...and I don't want to get married either.
I don't want to!
What's wrong with her?
How do I know?
The world may befalling apart, but we can't flout tradition.
And the Saint-Meran family has always made noble marriages.
Isn't Franz d'Epinay a wonderful catch?
The best imaginable.
So, why dally?
Today's Tuesday.
Let's say that on Saturday at the latest
Valentine will be Baroness d'Epinay.
GRAND PHANTASMAGORICAL SHOW
Your ticket, young man. First take a ticket.
May I see you for a moment, Mr. Morrel?
No, I'm waiting for someone.
I'll be brief. You won't miss the show.
I don't care, I've seen it over 20 times.
Go! I am meeting--
Mademoiselle de Villefort? You love her?
Who are you? Why should I tell you?
I merely need the truth then I'll leave you.
- I'll shout. - Go ahead.
I'll say you tried to rob me, you'll protest,
they'll take us away and you'll miss your meeting.
Let go of me.
To answer... Yes, I love Valentine.
And does she love you?
Yes.
How can you love her? Do you know who her father is?
Villefort, Crown Prosecutor.
Few men have been as merciless to others as Villefort.
It's Valentine I love. Her father can go to hell.
And that he might.
No, listen to me.
You love Valentine for her looks, but don't trust them.
What can a priest know of women and love?
I wasn't always a priest.
But this isn't about me.
It's you we're discussing.
So it's Valentine de Villefort alone that you love?
Then go and meet her.
Ladies and gentlemen, the show is about to begin.
Hurry up, the magician won't wait!
Maximilien, I can't escape this marriage.
I've spent two days in my room
trying to find a solution, a way out.
But I'm a minor and the law says--
And if I said I know a country where there are different laws?
Algeria.
It's so far.
Our family has only one ship left. It's in dock at Marseille.
In a week the Pharaon could be in Algiers.
Elope? Is that it? Are you mad?
- Say yes. - No, I say no.
The pain it would cause--
You'd prefer to hurt me? Then I know what I must do.
Yes. Forget me.
I'll go straight to an armorer I know at the Palais-Royal,
I'll buy a pistol, load it, sit beside a fountain--
A fountain?
No one will hear the gun.
I'll die without disturbing anyone.
- Not even the pigeons. - Very well.
Very well? For the pistol, for the fountain?
For my death?
Very well for Algeria.
Truly? You won't change your mind?
If you promise you'll marry me in Algeria.
- No. - No?
We won't wait until Algeria.
The captain of the Pharaon will marry us.
Good. So this is what we'll do.
Tonight at 11, meet me at the gate. I'll have a carriage.
Bring no bags. We'll buy what we need on the way.
Fool! Stupid, ridiculous fool, Maximilien!
Falling for exactly the wrong girl!
What does that child have that so excites him?
- Do you like her? - I certainly do.
But she's so insipid.
Too blonde, too much of a milk-sop.
But that's just it, my lord. She's a brioche.
Miss Valentine is just like a brioche.
A brioche!
Madame de la Richardais to see the Count of Monte Cristo.
Are you dressing for a costume ball?
Please may I come? It's so long since I got made up .
Now what could I go disguised as?
As a brioche, Madam.
A brioche?
Well, that's unusual. What ideas you have!
I can just see it.
A cheeky little round hat the color of toast.
And then the dress a little whiter than the hat
with big flounces to suggest the sides of the brioche.
She's Camilla
He's Brioche
She's vanilla
He's an oaf
Under the hedgerow
You'll see our love grow
For Captain Cocles, to finance the voyage to Janina.
So?
It's Ali Baba's cave, gold and jewels in abundance.
Come on, let's go.
- Better to wait for the night. - Yeah.
I'd prefer you to let me know before.
I'm sorry if I've disturbed you.
But how could I disturb you? You don't work.
- But I do work. - At what?
At clearing up debts that are owed to me.
I came without warning because I missed you.
53 hours
without seeing you.
53 hours? You count them?
- And the minutes. - The seconds?
I have no device for doing that.
Tomorrow, I'll give you one.
No more presents, please.
It's your presence I desire.
To what end?
Something like this, for example.
Excuse me if I disappoint you. I've never known how to kiss.
But you who know all can teach me.
Your song was true. You taste of vanilla.
Do you like vanilla?
I think I do.
But if you don't mind, I'd like to be absolutely sure.
It's worth it just for what's in the antechamber cupboard.
There's a trick to opening it, but I watched carefully.
Seeing is one thing. Doing's another.
It's easy. Darkness, a good ladder,
a sharp diamond for the windowpane--
But if we're seen?
Oh, come now!
You'd commit murder? You'd really dare?
We're escapees. If we're caught, you know what we'll get.
Hey, Squire!
What?
Midnight just sounded.
We've been waiting an hour.
I'll look around. You stay here.
Dead!
She is dead.
I can't believe such misfortune.
And under such abominable circumstances.
Did she suffer?
Dreadfully. One need only see that poor tormented face.
I'd say the poison was wrongly dosed.
Hence the appalling pains, the drawn out suffocation.
Poisoning?
I think you're jumping to conclusions.
Who could have disliked her so much?
I don't believe she was poisoned.
To my mind, suicide is more probable.
But why would she want to do that?
Especially at her age!
Despair comes to all ages.
Mademoiselle de Villefort?
Her room is upstairs, but the poor lady--
Maximilien Morrel, Madam. I am a friend.
Whoever you are, thank you for coming.
We didn't expect visitors until tomorrow.
How did you know of this terrible event?
It's here?
Where she rests?
Yes.
You may like to go and view her mortal remains.
But I warn you, we have not had time to dress the corpse.
I thought...
You!
I was afraid.
If you knew...
She was dying just when I was meant to meet you,
so to run off like that... I couldn't.
I understand. You acted well, but...
Will you be angry if I think of us?
This death is tragic but it may be a miracle.
A miracle?
Wasn't it she who wished to hasten your marriage?
Sadly, she is dead.
But now we can breathe, Valentine!
Alas, Maximilien! Before she died, my poor grandma...
Asked as a last favor...
What? What did she ask?
That no matter what, the marriage take place after the funeral.
Tomorrow, my love, I will be married.
- No. - Yes.
She spoke of some favor our family owed to the Epinays.
My father swore to honor her wish and such an oath is binding.
Where can I have put that act?
These wretched spectacles!
Ah, here we are.
No, that's the testament of Madame de Vétheuil.
And this? So what's this?
Ah, yes. The sale of the Hotel de Gisors.
That's not it. Now be patient, we'll find it.
I can't sign a marriage contract the day my grandmother's buried.
You're a minor. I will sign.
You merely need to be present.
Now we have it.
So we can begin.
Before Mr. Delafosse, notary, have appeared in view of marriage
Franz Alphonse Christian d'Epinay, officer of the King's troops,
bachelor of legal age acting upon his own behalf,
and Valentine Julie Marie de Villefort,
minor, his future spouse...
Stipulating that the dowry
of Mademoiselle de Villefort will be 50,000 gold francs...
Excuse me, but wasn't it 100,000 francs?
Franz, we would have loved to be more generous,
but my father-in-law used the caprice of old age
and disinherited my husband, Valentine and me.
Now we must look to our future.
We know you're not marrying Valentine
for her money.
Of course not. It's for love, a profound, sincere, true love.
...the said contract being approved by both parties
and signed according to the law before me,
Jacques-Alphonse Delafosse, ministerial officer,
in Paris, July 21, 1838.
If, then, you would care to sign.
Are you happy?
I am.
Were it not for the funeral, this would be my happiest hour.
You are silent, Valentine?
I've nothing to say.
Don't sign, Lieutenant!
Barrois, what is it?
Sir, excuse me.
It's Monsieur de Noirtier.
He wishes to see Lieutenant d'Epinay.
Tell him we'll come once we have done here.
Monsieur de Noirtier insists you come immediately.
He says it's a matter of the utmost importance.
Is it this painting, Sir?
Are we here to redecorate?
There is a paper. Will I read it out?
Must I give it to someone?
To whom, Sir?
Because of this paper,
I am obliged to break off all relations with your family.
Mr. Delafosse, please leave us. You too, Barrois.
But what does this paper contain?
Franz all but married the granddaughter
of the man who killed his father.
Yes, Héloise.
This is a confession signed by my father before his paralysis,
wherein he states--
- He is a murderer? - Ah, no!
Not a murderer, thank God.
He killed General Quesnel, Baron D'Epinay.
But not in a way that makes him a criminal.
No, it was a duel.
An engagement between men of honor.
Without witnesses, which also explains
why the police thought d'Epinay had been murdered.
A duel with swords, wasn't it?
In the middle of the night, on the banks of the Seine.
After an hour, both blades broke so you continued with pistols.
That's how it happened.
Didn't it?
Let me say... I knew.
How did you know?
20 years ago, in Marseille, I met a man accused anonymously.
I found him guilty.
It was a young sailor arrested at his engagement.
I still recall his name.
Edmond Dantès.
On Elba, Napoleon's aide gave him a letter for you.
This letter told you, Father,
that the Emperor was preparing to flee the island
to seize power once more in France.
You were charged with facilitating this...
By eliminating as you saw fit one of Napoleon's great enemies,
Baron d'Epinay.
Yes, I know.
You never knew about the letter, did you?
To protect you, to save you, I threw it to the flames.
But then how did your father--
How did he execute a plan he never knew about?
Yes.
By instinctive duty, he knew he must eliminate d'Epinay.
Correct?
I too have always acted by instinctive duty.
I never needed orders to know that a man
deserved death.
And the sailor?
I had him put in solitary in the Chateau d'If
for life.
For acting as messenger?
How to know if he'd read the letter?
It was he or my father.
But now you will free him, won't you?
It's too late. He died trying to escape.
How unjust!
But now the poor man cannot take revenge on your father.
Salaam Alaikum, Hassan.
Alaikum Salaam, my lord.
No, Hassan. No light. Go and find Muhammad, quick!
We should have waited for night.
No, at night there's the moon.
I don't like it. It's too risky.
Blackmailing your father would have been better.
Using his name will get us out of it if it goes badly. Climb!
- You go. - No.
I'll keep watch. If anyone comes, I'll imitate an owl.
I can imitate an owl as well as you can.
Anyway, I get dizzy.
If you're chicken, I'll bleed you like a chicken.
Go on, climb.
- But I get dizzy! - Climb.
Muhammad, there are two men outside trying to get in upstairs.
Don't worry, I'll fix them.
No, let them come.
- Outside, two men. - Thieves?
Or killers. Someone wanting to silence me.
Or denounce you.
Too dangerous.
If they do, I'll tell all about Danglars, Villefort and Morcerf.
Watch the ground floor.
Should I tell the others? Hassan's good at strangling with a snare.
No commotion. Pretend the house is empty.
Watch the staircase. Don't shoot. I want to know who sent them.
- You're sure there's two? - Go.
These must be worth millions.
Millions!
You disappoint me, Caderousse.
Abbé Busoni! What are you doing here?
- And you, Caderousse? - Me?
Me, Father? Well, I'm looking, looking for...
Looking for what?
My livelihood.
Isn't the money I give you enough?
Everything is so dear for an escaped prisoner.
To sleep under a roof, to eat something warm.
Even to wash, you have to pay ten times more,
or they threaten to turn you in.
Even you, Father, as saintly as you are,
even if I beg you to let me go, you'll say,
"Run, my dear Caderousse,
but pay for my silence if you don't want me to denounce you."
So, here.
I'll gladly give you all I have.
For your poor.
You'd sell your own parents.
One can be a priest without having to be a martyr.
Mercy!
- Have pity. I didn't mean to-- - Of course not.
Killing a man doesn't hurt him.
It takes him closer to God. Is that it?
Yes, that's it.
Perfect.
So when the executioner ties you to the plank
and positions your head beneath the blade, you'll be happy?
No, not that! No.
You smell so bad, Caderousse.
Is it fear that makes you stink? What's wrong?
Did you dirty your pants?
You want to go?
May I go? Please, you don't mind if I go.
It's up to God to decide. Will you accept God's judgment?
If you let me go, I'll do whatever you want.
A deal.
If God lets you reach your lair in one piece,
it will be proof that He forgives you.
Then the Abbé Busoni will forgive you too. Pick it up.
No, I said it was for your poor.
My poor?
I'll never find anyone poorer than you.
Pick' it up...
And disappear.
- Did you find it? - Here.
Sorry, old man. I was taught to survive,
not to share.
Get Muhammad. Hurry!
Stop or I'll shoot.
Stop!
Don't kill me! I give up!
Good, Muhammad. Leave us.
A surgeon. Send for a surgeon.
You're beyond a surgeon's help.
What you need is a priest, Caderousse.
To hell with priests!
I don't believe in God.
Why? Why don't you believe in God?
Because He doesn't exist.
If He existed, the world wouldn't be so ugly.
Good people would be rewarded and bad people, punished.
Remember, Father, we already spoke about that.
You told me about Dantès.
Young Dantès, don't you recall?
You're thinking of Edmond Dantès on your deathbed?
Yes.
Because...
He is punished...and the others...
Those who betrayed him...
All rich and glorious.
A mockery, your God.
Your God is not just.
Yes, He is, Caderousse.
Yes, God is just.
Look at me. I am Edmond Dantès.
- He is dead. - No, he is alive.
He is by your side.
Look at me, Caderousse.
I am alive, well alive.
Edmond Dantès.
You are Edmond Dantès?
Yes.
Then if you are Edmond Dantès...
Then...
Then what?
Come here!
He was the first to pay, but maybe he wasn't the worst.
You're his accomplice, the famous Toussaint?
Tie his hands behind his back.
Very tight. Then we'll take him to the prison.
If they ask me why?
Say he's his father's son.
If you knew who he is, you'd be shaking.
Young man...
If you knew who I am, you'd know it's your father who'll shake.
Bravo! Bravo!
Bravo, my compliments.
First prize. Congratulations.
Well done, my boy.
Nice race, Sir.
Thank you, but it was an unfair victory.
Unfair?
I'm not exactly an amateur when it comes to boats.
Of course, your long sea voyage in the East.
Don't you miss the sea?
I miss many things, Madam.
In spite of your fortune.
You can have everything you dream of.
I rarely dream.
My nights are heavy.
You are such a strange man.
One could almost think you are unhappy.
Is it too late to go for a row?
It's true, you row well. A real sailor.
Do you like sailors?
Your question is really strange.
What question?
If I like sailors or not.
It's just to make conversation.
I have the impression we don't know what to say.
Like all gentlefolk who don't know each other well.
In Paris, we call it modesty.
It is true that here
if we were sharing a secret, nobody could hear us.
Would you have a secret to tell me?
Me? No.
No. And you, Sir?
Me neither, Madam.
Very well, no secrets.
I am Mercédès de Morcerf and my life has no secret.
You are Count of Monte Cristo and your life has no mystery.
And yet both of us
have a past.
We were young once.
Did you have a happy youth?
Up to a certain point. And you?
Up to a certain day.
Madame de Morcerf is the one who wanted to go on the boat.
I really wanted to as well.
I'm sure when he's finished he'll take you out.
I wouldn't want him to exhaust himself.
And it's getting late. Tell him I'm going back to Auteuil.
May I allow you to call me Mercédès?
- At least when we are alone. - Thank you.
It's a lovely name. I like saying it.
And in return...
What shall I call you?
As you wish.
Let's see...
Why not Emile?
Emile, take us to the sun. It's cold in the shade.
No, I definitely don't like Emile.
Try something else.
As we are with the letter "E,"
why not...
Edmond?
Edmond, please take me into the sun.
We are already in the sun, Mercédès.
The sun is all around us.
Isn't it... blinding?
Yes, at present it...
It's burning my eyes.
You must know that I'm not happy.
My husband--
We said no secrets.
Accept them. I've never been able to tell them to anyone.
But you're telling me. Why?
Because you're just passing through Paris.
In short, you are not important.
You are a cloud.
Listen, Mr. Cloud...
I used to love another man.
I loved him madly.
We were about to get engaged
when he disappeared under strange circumstances...
Suddenly and tragically.
Disappearances don't happen except when it's death.
In other cases, we dig, we scrape, we search.
We find.
Or we find again.
What do you think?
Of course I've tried to have news of him.
But his own father told me Edmond was dead.
His name was Edmond too?
A coincidence.
You are right. I'll give you another name.
I don't want you to carry a dead person's name.
Even if it's a game between us.
A game, yes...a game.
I used to fear the moment when my father called from the window,
"It's late, come inside!"
It was always at about this time.
Your father was right to call you inside.
And it's true that it's late.
Much too late.
Grandfather, this is Maximilien. He wanted to thank you himself.
Monsieur Noirtier...
I'll never forget what you did for us.
It must have been hard to confront Franz d'Epinay with the truth.
But now both of us, Valentine and I, will look after you.
Not forgetting Barrois, of course.
I bring some fresh lemonade for monsieur,
that Valentine made for him earlier.
Are you not thirsty?
Well, I am. It's so hot tonight.
This summer seems endless. With monsieur's permission...
It's dangerous to do that when it's so hot.
Oh, you know, an old beast like me fears nothing.
Having nearly died in Moscow
and survived the crossing of the Beresina...
My God!
- What's happening? - I don't know.
I'll call my father.
Luckily he is with Dr. d'Avrigny.
Don't stay here. It's not wise.
Go!
These medicinal plants are nothing special, d'Avrigny.
Taken separately, yes.
But some combinations can be highly toxic.
- If your stepmother-- - That's ridiculous.
Can you imagine my mother poisoning herself
playing amateur doctor?
Father! Doctor d'Avrigny!
Come quickly! Come!
His pulse is barely perceptible.
His eyes are rolled back. He must vomit.
Please fetch the most powerful emetic you can find, mademoiselle.
The lemonade.
It struck me after I drank some lemonade. Oh, it hurts.
What lemonade?
Lemonade... There, monsieur.
Yes, it's lemonade.
Did you make it?
No.
It was... Miss Valentine.
I think he's dead.
I won't go.
Yes, you will.
It was your service I entered, Sir.
So you can't oblige me to work for someone else?
What does it mean? What am I to you?
Some kind of merchandise? A slave... who you can lend or sell?
I lend you to the Villeforts, but you are still in my service.
- You'll be more useful than ever. - Away from you!
And close to Valentine. You'll serve me by protecting her.
That's the last straw! It's beyond me.
A few days ago you were to give her a vile potion,
because you wanted her father to die of a broken heart.
Now you want me to protect her! I don't understand.
Do you know what a sophism is?
No. And I don't care.
An example... Socrates is mortal.
All cats are mortal, so Socrates is a cat.
Yes. Amusing, even subtle, but completely absurd.
Another sophism.
I like Maximilien. Maximilien likes Valentine,
so I like Valentine, and she is in danger.
Need I continue?
I understand.
So I'm to be her nanny. Lucky she's pretty.
Here's you bottle, Nanny.
At the slightest sign of illness, give her that.
But how can you be sure
that the Villeforts will accept me?
I spoke to Héloise.
Their maids are leaving. You'll be received as a messiah.
Good evening, Sir. I'm here for the position.
We've been waiting for you.
Come in. Your allowance is there.
- What else? - You'll find out.
I won't stay any longer in this cursed house!
Cursed? Aren't you happy here?
In eight days, two poisonings including a maid.
- It's not my idea of happiness. - Sure.
Better safe than sorry.
Here is the analysis
of the lemonade that killed Barrois.
Read it. It's eloquent. Poisoned.
Digitalis extracts and hemlock decoction. It couldn't fail.
Rubbish, Doctor!
My father had some of this poisoned lemonade.
There was no trouble.
I was indeed surprised. Because of his state
Monsieur Noirtier is literally
stuffed with medicines I myself prescribe.
They might have protected him
by acting as permanent antidotes.
Arrange an exhumation and autopsy of Madame de Saint-Meran's body.
I'll wager traces of digitalis and hemlock will be found.
I'll arrange no such thing. You must understand that.
I understand the truth frightens you.
Valentine made the lemonade that killed Barrois.
Shut up, Doctor. You're delirious!
Of course she had nothing against the poor maid.
No, she was aiming at Noirtier.
But by tragic accident,
Barrois drank from his master's glass.
Nonsense, d'Avrigny!
She loves him.
Didn't he disinherit her?
An act of senility. Valentine gave it no importance.
Outwardly only.
Young girls know how to hide their game.
Come in.
I am Bertuccio, your new steward.
My wife told me. What do you want?
Nothing, Sir. You summoned me.
Really? No, I don't think so.
Yes, you said you wanted a glass of cognac.
Straight away.
I'll drink it alone, d'Avrigny.
I have nothing to share with you anymore.
Never come back here.
All right.
I've told you what I thought.
Listen, Villefort.
Even if it seems unfair and unbearable to you,
Valentine must be confined.
Behind that demure air, she is an hysteric
whose perverted and tormented nature
may lead her to insanity if she is crossed.
I've been unable to sleep.
We both know what awaits Valentine if she's denounced.
No, you don't know.
You've never seen a beheading.
I have.
Hundreds.
Up close.
I've read in their eyes an abject terror.
I've touched their skin,
damp and sweet with the smell of death.
I've heard their teeth chattering so hard they break.
You want me to inflict that on my daughter?
You are a monster to dare suggest it.
Maybe we could avoid it and obtain an internment.
In a madhouse?
Treated like an animal, tied up day and night?
Now you listen to me.
Repeat a word of this and I'll send you to jail.
To jail, me? But what for?
For that, trust me.
I'll find something.
I've done it before.
Very well, I'll say nothing.
But I pity you.
Above all, I'm afraid for you.
You could be the next victim.
Anyone living in this house could be the next victim.
Get out!
My dear...
I heard all.
My daughter.
Nobody will harm her. Nobody!
And she won't get out of here. I locked her in her room.
You did well.
But I'm afraid she doesn't like to be imprisoned.
It would be better if her anger fell on me rather than on you.
Where is the key?
In the door of her room.
I'll go.
Have a rest.
Let me take care of everything.
Now, my lord Count, may I taste it?
I like your mouth so much when you politely say, "My lord Count,"
when your eyes implore, "Kiss me like a cook kisses."
And how do cooks kiss?
God, it's delicious.
What do you want?
I'm afraid.
Afraid? Fear doesn't exist, it's just an illusion.
Go back.
- I'm afraid for her. - Who, Valentine?
Valentine? Who's Valentine?
Valentine de Villefort.
Oh, that little girl.
What is it?
Doctor d'Avrigny is convinced
Valentine poisoned Barrois and Madame de Saint-Meran.
The lemonade Valentine made really contained some poison.
What kind?
A mixture of hemlock and digitalis.
The devil!
Now that her mixture works, she'll go further.
How tragic! Do you think she is guilty?
She is in danger. Go back to the Villeforts.
Don't let anyone enter Valentine's room, especially not Héloise.
I'll come soon. How can I get in unobserved?
I don't know the house well. It's so big.
Maybe by the roof.
All right, the roof. You'll watch out for me. Go now!
Valentine needs you already. Go, I'll see you.
You look worried and I don't like that.
An inconvenience.
It's unimportant.
Even though...
Even though?
Even though I expected to keep you with me tonight.
Yes, keep me!
It's so cold in my old house.
Please, I want to stay here with you.
Close to you.
Close beside you.
- Behave, Madam. - Why?
I have something to do tonight.
Put it off until tomorrow night.
Impossible, Madam. I'm expected tonight.
Expected by whom? Not a woman, I hope.
If death looks like a woman, then yes.
Bertuccio, what are you doing here?
I'm doing what you should be doing... protecting Valentine.
Protecting her? What do you mean? Is she in danger, Bertuccio?
No, don't worry so much. We are looking after her now.
You say that, but you're only Bertuccio.
Sure.
I didn't mean it.
No, but I mean it myself.
Don't worry, Sir, I am not alone.
There is this man.
Who?
Even though he is a master, I'll soon consider him a friend.
One day I'll call him by his first name. I'll hug him.
Back to work.
Wake up!
Wake up for God's sake.
Wake up!
Little beast, wake up. I need you.
I need you!
Wake up.
Good, Bertuccio. Good.
There.
Watch out.
Careful, the stairs creak.
Mademoiselle de Villefort's room.
Poor child.
All this emotion has exhausted you.
I made something to help you sleep.
Thank you, Héloise. I need nothing. I slept very well.
But you'll sleep even better with this. Come on!
Drink!
That's the way.
Drink it until the last drop.
There...there.
There, my child, there.
Sleep well.
Good night.
If you shout, we're lost.
And you won't see Maximilien again.
- How did that potion taste? - The taste?
I didn't notice. A bit bitter.
Please be more precise. Think of your life!
A pleasant taste of plants.
Where is the flask I gave you?
What do you mean?
- The antidote! - I haven't got it anymore.
I was suspicious after someone made my dinner, so I drank it.
I can hardly breathe.
Rush to the laboratory. I have one antidote left.
In a test tube, the seventh in the rack. Quick!.
I'm cold. Very cold.
Faster! Did you hear me? Come on, hurry up!
Monsieur Bertuccio! It's me, Captain Cocles.
Mission accomplished.
Sir, I know it's late but could you
announce the news to the Count of Monte Cristo?
Well, very well, but later.
- Where is the coachman? - He wouldn't wait.
Come. Please come.
Hurry up! Quickly.
Come on. Quickly!
Someone is coming. Quick!
Heavens, no! It's a matter of seconds.
Thank God the antidote is quicker than the poison.
Just in time.
Thank God she is saved.
Temporarily. Héloise will try again.
She'll see the poison is not working
and she'll make another one
whose formula I don't know... nor its antidote.
Excuse me, Count.
Can you tell me what punishment I'll receive?
I made a serious mistake. Because of me...
I am not faultless either, Bertuccio.
My lord Count, at last. It really is unbelievable.
What a night!
First we wait for ages over there and now we wait here.
Upon my word, the Turks are an easier party
than your Bertuccio.
My God...
Haydee!
If you knew where I found her
and in such a pitiable state.
I know, Captain Cocles.
I can imagine.
No.
Leave it, I'll take the reins. I'm suffocating, I need some air.
Welcome, Madam. I am the Count of Monte Cristo.
And I am your slave, Sir,
as you were kind enough to buy me.
I didn't buy you. I set you free.
You were imprisoned. I hate prisons.
I know, Sir.
I know I should have gone home.
But I was curious to know what a meeting with death was like.
Your sort of death is very pretty.
This young woman has suffered.
Young women suffering are your private passion.
I am Camille de la Richardais.
I've suffered quite a lot too.
Widowed two years after getting married,
I wrongly fell in love with someone I thought was a man,
but who finally proved to be an owl or a bat,
a beast of the night who never stays at home in bed.
Thank you for the compliment, madam. We'll discuss it later.
You must be exhausted.
Muhammad will prepare you a room.
Wouldn't she be better off at a hotel?
Nobody must know she is here or in Paris.
I require total secrecy...
For her security and for my plans.
As you know my house, madam...
Would you care to make her comfortable?
Thank you, Captain Cocles.
You also asked me to bring some documents. Here they are.
Heavens, Beauchamp!
I ask you for an article about Victoria's first year as Queen.
You don't write a political article,
but a declaration of love!
It's because
at 19 years old, with a cute little face and a shy smile,
the Queen is quite charming, isn't she?
Monsieur Beauchamp!
Urgent.
Thank you.
Let's forget the Queen of England.
I've got something explosive.
Here, read this.
If it's true, it's a scandal.
Are you sure of this information?
I trust the man who sent it.
I hope so. If not, I'll lose my newspaper.
Anyway, let's be cautious.
We light the fuse, but we don't explode the bomb.
What about a title?
"A Letter from Janina."
Let's hope no one fights you in a duel.
At least not me.
What kind of punishment is a shot in the heart?
A true punishment must be an enduring one.
- Have you ever missed the target? - Never.
Then teach me.
Enroll with the master. The next session is on Saturday.
I have no time.
You saved my life in Rome. Help me not to lose it in Paris.
Albert, what's the matter?
- I challenged someone to a duel. - A duel, you?
- I've been offended. - Who is the offender?
- Beauchamp. - The journalist?
- I thought he was your friend. - No more.
Read this. Third page at the bottom.
"A Letter from Janina."
Where is the offense?
This article insinuates that a certain Fernand,
an officer who served in Greece,
was guilty of betraying Sultan Ali Pasha
by handing him over to the Turks.
Signed Beauchamp.
A certain Fernand, yes... How does it concern you?
It's my father's name.
In Paris there are hundreds of Fernands. It's a common name.
Let's not say common, but rather fashionable.
But he served in Greece under the flag of Janina.
The allusion is obvious.
Come now.
If this is a slight, it's not your business to address it.
It's your father's.
Luckily he is unaware of it.
For him, the Messager is the organ of the enemy.
And if this were your father?
My father?
They did worse than insult him.
They made him die of grief.
- You haven't thought of revenge? - Yes.
You see?
I have choice of weapons.
I fence well, but Beauchamp has never held a sword.
But he can use a pistol.
In honor of past friendship and as honor is involved,
I've chosen pistols about which I know nothing.
So you've replaced murder with suicide?
Unless you teach me to shoot.
And I refused.
By training Albert I'd be taking aim at Beauchamp,
who wrote his article using information
I sent him myself.
Albert is innocent too.
Must children pay for their parents' faults?
And Valentine is as well.
If I confound Fernand de Morcerf today, Albert won't have to fight.
At least, I hope not. As for Valentine...
Héloise won't leave her alone.
She's constantly offering her something to drink.
I do my best to keep watch, but I need to sleep.
Which reminds me, there may be a way to save her from Héloise.
Do you recall the toad I fed with the Deep Sleep Potion?
I don't like it.
Me neither, but it's the only way.
For now, go back to your charge
and meet me here at ten tomorrow.