THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO
No one is to come near this coach.
Albert!
Albert...
Please, we must talk.
At 6:30 tomorrow in Saint-Cloud Forest.
One word each. Ready? Ready!
Dear Count, I too am perturbed.
But you know I can hardly request for the Upper House,
where I preside,
to initiate proceedings on what are mere
allusions towards one of its members--
against a member whom this article
was careful enough not to name.
This so-called "Fernand."
You'll agree it is all rather vague. "Fernand."
I, myself, have a grandson named Fernand.
In its evening edition, Duke,
the "Le Messager" will reveal
the full name of the culprit.
It will no longer be "a so-called Fernand"
but the Count Fernand de Morcerf.
Sir, I must warn you.
It is true that, since the... Revolution,
no one in France is above the law.
But then to dare accuse someone
with the fine service
and respectability of the Count de Morcerf...
Here is the front page article of this evening's edition.
Please excuse my forwardness, sir, but...
What is your role in this matter?
I instigated it.
And you serenely admit to it.
This serenity doesn't run deep.
Inside, I'm nothing but anger and disgust.
I hope this isn't to personally
avenge yourself on Mr. de Morcerf.
What does it matter...
When vengeance is allied with justice?
No one else can enter.
Believe me, colleagues,
I'd have paid no attention to these allegations--
It's slander!
This "slander," to please the Baron de la Merchandiere,
if not for the signatures of several dignitaries
who state that they witnessed this--
Felony, wasn't it?
Silence!
Mr. de Morcerf, I didn't authorize you to speak.
But I do speak, Sir.
There are no rules against the insult you relay, Sir,
with a rashness I find surprising and hurtful!
They're all with him, as you'd expect.
And if Albert doesn't kill me tomorrow,
I'll be charged with betrayal of national security.
You landed me in a fine mess, Count.
Morcerf thinks he'll triumph
because he's sure he knows all the cards played here,
save for one, of which he knows nothing.
Please, show it, quickly.
It's now time to get it. Besides, I need some fresh air.
It's hard to breathe in here.
Excuse me.
Who are the witnesses mentioned in this rag?
Former heroes of Janina.
So old they're probably dead.
To make the dead speak
is a trick that isn't new.
If you don't believe me, Sir, send an investigation to Janina.
The Upper House has more urgent tasks
than visiting the Turks.
My dear Morcerf, no one here doubts your word.
I don't.
I am at your service, Sir.
- I have long waited for this. - So have I, Madam.
Bring back censorship!
Today--
Gentlemen! Gentlemen!
Today, I'm the one who's affected...
By tomorrow, it could be you.
You! You! And you!
Then, our lord speaker will be in the stocks,
and then, perhaps, our President,
and then, perhaps our King.
Return to your seats or I shall adjourn.
My lord Count de Morcerf,
attacking the Press will not clear your name.
Why should I clear my name?
For risking my life in Janina?
Because my behavior was so heroic
that Sultan Ali Pasha, acknowledging my bravery...
And made me a general?
But after-- after you were made a general?
After?
Well, after, the city fell into Turkish hands and...
How? How did it fall? This is the question.
And your famous trump card?
Here. The queen of hearts.
Silence! Gentlemen!
I have important news.
Someone has just arrived who wishes to be heard
as a witness in the Janina case.
We have heard enough.
It would be indecent to continue pestering the Count of Morcerf.
Please, Dear Sir,
let us at least see the face of the enemy.
This is all I wish for.
- What sham is this? - Her?
Your name, Madam?
Princess Haydee of Janina,
daughter of Sultan Ali Pasha.
Impossible! It's an imposture.
Why an imposture?
Because the Sultan's family was put to the sword.
This is correct, Sir.
All had their throats cut.
My mother, father, my two brothers...
I alone survived the slaughter. Perhaps because I was a girl.
Pity? From the Turks?
This woman is talking nonsense!
Pity would have been to kill me. Not to make a slave of me.
If you're a slave, you cannot give evidence.
She isn't anymore, Sir.
I bought her,
and freed her.
Which side are you on?
This changes everything!
As the Count of Monte Cristo vouches for the validity of your statement,
you may speak.
Slave or not, she still must prove that she is who she claims to be!
You tell them who I am. Who am I?
A hysteric! That's who you are!
Mondego, you were most intimate with the Sultan and his family.
Did Haydee have a distinguishing mark?
It is so long ago, how...
How could I remember?
Did she or did she not have a distinguishing mark?
Well, maybe there was something.
I remember she used to love those sweets
called Turkish Delights.
So her distinguishing mark is that she should weigh
over 200 pounds!
My poor girl, this role is too big for you!
I, too, was in Janina,
but towards the final days.
On one occasion,
I had then the honor of meeting the Sultan Ali Pasha.
- We're discussing his daughter. - Precisely!
I also met his daughter.
- And his daughter is this woman! - Driveling old man!
Driveling as usual.
I don't know if you have ever
gone hawking, my lord Duke.
It's a very exciting way of hunting which--
Do come to the point, Mr. de Saint-Guyon.
Very well.
One day a hawk belonging to the princess,
with its beak,
cut her right earlobe.
I must add, however,
that this did not alter
the beauty of the Princess Haydee of Janina.
My apologies, Madam, for this humiliation that we imposed upon you.
It shall be the last.
Will the Peers of France please rise,
as custom demands when we receive among us
a person of royal blood.
She...
She performed the mutilation herself!
Come down or I'll come and get you.
Go home, Albert. Your poor mother needs you.
You dishonored my father.
Yes.
But I swear I'm not relishing it.
It had to be done.
Since the guttersnipe you are is so ignorant,
this means I demand a duel, so where and when?
- I didn't want this. - Where and when?
You'd arranged for a duel with Beauchamp.
There is no need for it now. So same place, same time.
Here are my seconds. Who are yours?
Maximilien Morrel and Bertuccio.
Shopkeeper and servant. You're humiliating me again.
I've no other friends in Paris.
All this rain.
I hope he falls on his back, not on his face.
He doesn't deserve to die face in the mud.
Thank you, Bertuccio, I'll finish it myself.
Go to Valentine. I'm worried.
Don't trouble yourself, Sir.
She is in Saint-Louis d'Antin
at a mass for Madame de Saint-Meran.
And no singing for poor Barrois?
Excuse me.
It's the countess.
Which countess?
Madame de Morcerf.
Leave us, Bertuccio.
Take a seat, Mercédès.
- What are you doing? - I'm begging you.
Why?
You know well.
Stand up.
You only kneel before God.
Like Him, you can do a miracle.
Why a miracle?
Your son is the offended party. He'll be the first to shoot.
You know he'll miss. He's not very good with pistols.
I know.
He'll be nervous and his hands will shake.
It's his first duel.
Mine too.
But unlike your son,
I shoot very well.
You want me to miss?
- Yes. - Is this why you came?
Yes.
In God's name, I beg you.
Tell me you'll do it.
This isn't how I saw it.
Let's say I shoot wide and miss your son.
However, Mercédès, we have two pistols each.
So it'll be Albert's turn again.
This time, not from 60 paces,
but from 30 paces.
Aim at me.
You'll understand.
Honestly...at 30 paces, even if you can't shoot,
do you think you could miss?
Sorry, Mercédès.
I cannot let your son live long enough
to aim at me from 30 paces.
Then--
Then wound him in the shoulder.
I don't know! Stop this nightmare!
This isn't a first-blood duel.
This is to the death. Your son decided it so.
You say no to everything!
Why are you after us? What did we do to you?
I thought you knew.
How would I know? What do I know of you?
But the other day, on the river, I thought...
Then I thought about things too.
But I must have been wrong...
Because "he" wasn't like this.
He wasn't like you!
"He"?
On the river, I called you Edmond.
Yes.
Why didn't you say anything more after that?
I thought you would speak. That it was up to you.
I've been waiting for this confession.
But, Mercédès, only the guilty confess.
So you want me to tell you what your name is?
No one...
No one has ever said my name the way you say it.
I remember...
When you wrote it on misty windows.
I was in love with you...
But now I'm afraid of you.
Say it, still, Mercédès. Try!
Call me by my name. Sweetly.
Like before, for the last time,
because as of tomorrow, saying my name will make you vomit.
Say it, Mercédès.
Edmond.
Edmond Dantès.
No, Edmond. No caresses.
Don't touch me.
I know you hate me.
I'll only start hating you tomorrow.
But you've been hating for 20 years. And your revenge on me is to kill my son!
Revenge on you?
No!
On the others, yes. But not on you.
I only want to know what happened to us.
Why I was alone.
I told you.
Your father said you were dead.
I know. You told me.
You were right to believe him because he never lied.
Not like some.
But why did you marry Mondego?
You knew Fernand Mondego.
And now you know who Fernand Mondego is.
It would be difficult not to. All of Paris speaks of his treason at Janina.
Would Janina have occurred if Mondego hadn't already betrayed,
had he never lied before, slandered or committed treason?
What do you mean?
- It was because of him I was arrested - No.
That not possible.
He kept saying he'd lost his best friend.
- I saw him cry. - All is fake in him.
The tears, heroism, honor.
He wanted you and I was in his way.
So a letter...
Very courageous, the anonymous letter trick.
- He's like that. - The scum.
Yes, he's scum and there's more scum.
Villefort, Danglars, Caderousse.
Punish him, punish them all. It's your right. But not Albert!
Don't mix him up in this.
Don't kill my son.
If it soothes you...
Punish me too.
I did you no wrong,
but punish me all the same,
so you'll feel better.
But don't hurt my son.
You hear me, Edmond Dantès? Not my child!
I was at your father's deathbed.
- Morrel was, you weren't. - Yes, I was!
- If old Morrel was still alive... - No!
The dead can't speak.
Still, it's the truth.
I held his hand till he died
and as he died he was talking of you.
- No, Mercédès. - He loved you so.
Don't do this. Don't do this.
He loved you as I love Albert.
I will say no more.
But you,
have you nothing to say
before I go?
Tomorrow morning...
After 20 years,
you shall no longer wonder if Edmond Dantès is alive or dead.
He'll be dead.
Albert de Morcerf will have lodged a bullet in my chest.
Thank you.
Farewell, Edmond.
Farewell...
Mercédès.
Come in, Muhammad.
You rang, my lord?
There's one for each of you.
It's money.
Well, diamonds.
They're easier to trade.
Diamonds?
Yes, to pay for your trip back home and an easy life.
I suppose little Hassan will buy a nice felucca...
And will be a fine sponge diver, he loves the sea so much.
You'll tell him to be careful, won't you?
You can't trust the sea.
You can't trust anyone.
My lord, are you giving us notice?
No.
I don't want you to go...
But I may be the one who goes.
Wherever you go, we'll go.
Thank you.
But it's to a place where no one needs anyone.
Can we talk?
- But what are you doing? - Making love.
Rain...
I love the taste of rain.
This is a lovely day,
as always after a storm.
If anything happens to me, promise me one thing:
Never make love when it's raining.
What could happen to you?
Monte Cristo, so strong, I'll love him life-long.
What's more, it rhymes.
You make me so happy I become a poet.
- What's the time? - Not yet 6:00.
You could sleep a bit more.
No. I have an appointment.
So early? Who with?
First of all, with myself. I'm hungry.
Give me something to eat.
- Bread and coffee? - And a little wine,
and eggs with bacon, a lot of bacon.
And cheese.
And if you had one or two capon legs, why not?
You ogre, you!
See you tonight?
- Camille... - Yes?
Nothing.
Or rather...
Last night was wonderful, I'll never forget it.
Wonderful but so short!
The next one will be so long.
He's over an hour late.
- Scared, perhaps. - He'll come, he's a Morcerf.
Traitors.
But he has a mother, Mercédès, who has courage.
My will.
- But, Sir-- - I'm leaving you ten million.
Invest with Thomson & French at 18 or 20%
you'll have a nice pension.
I'm only asking one thing.
You will carry out my last wishes.
It's simple.
I was a sailor, I want to rest in the sea.
I want to slide to the bottom from the deck of the Pharaon.
You'll organize it with Maximilien.
They're here!
The Viscount de Morcerf apologizes for being late.
We broke a wheel in the ruts left by the storm.
Very well, Sir.
60 paces is impossible in this mist.
If you agree, the Count suggests starting at 30.
At that distance, the mist won't be a problem.
Actually...
Mr. de Morcerf wishes...
That is, he would like...
He must speak with the Count.
You should know that's contrary to custom.
Only weapons should speak.
Would you check our pistols and let us check yours?
- I am unarmed, Mr. Morrel. - Unarmed?
Unarmed and with apologies.
You're the offended party. You don't apologize.
Monsieur Monte Cristo, would you come closer?
I wish to speak in front of both our seconds.
Please let's take positions and have done.
Certainly. But not in the manner you think.
I came not to be killed by you, and not to kill you.
Unless you demand it, we shall not fight.
I came to apologize.
Last night during the storm my mother came to me.
- She told me everything. - What did she tell you?
I doubt you'd want me to say
what you were willing to do this morning.
That's true.
That is between the Countess and myself.
The whole case is simple.
To accuse and confound my father was just.
Yes, gentlemen,
the Count of Morcerf is guilty of felony, and not only in Janina.
- Already, years ago in Marseille... - Albert, not that! Not that!
- Can't I talk about... - No!
You want to reveal this yourself?
Perhaps. It's for me to decide.
Very well.
Don't worry.
I can keep a secret. Especially my mother's.
Thank you for sparing me the shame
of further damning my father...
Who...
- I can't tell you how happy I am! - And me!
This morning, I had the best breakfast ever.
I thought it the last, so I indulged.
That's how one should live. Like survivors.
- Ah, Djerba! - Yes?
Give your master a massage.
Rub hard! Ah, it feels good.
Sing a song from your country.
- The Count of Morcerf... - What about him?
He wants to see you.
He's very upset and says he'll do what his son didn't.
- He wants to kill me? - Yes, on his honor.
His honor? Then I'm quite safe.
Don't take it so lightly! I saw his coat, there's at least one pistol on each side.
Serve him port and biscuits in the salon. Say, I won't be long.
Make him comfortable.
You run to the Villeforts'. Go!
Valentine is alone. Run!
Here you are, Sir.
You wished to see me?
Monte Cristo, I came...
Who, did you say?
Monte Cristo?
The Count of Monte Cristo?
You're at the wrong address, Mondego.
Look at me. Look closely.
- Am I the Count of Monte Cristo? - What is this game?
I don't play games, Fernand, and never have.
What I suffered was real. It's you who played.
You played the tearful friend,
comforting fiancé, heroic general,
the noble and respectable Count of Morcerf.
In fact,
you're corrupt and rotten.
The game's over, Fernand.
You played and lost.
Give up, you've already killed me.
Or at least you tried, but didn't succeed.
Look, I'm back.
Shall we have a drink?
To the health...
Of Edmond Dantès.
My poor Fernand.
You really can't help wrecking all that is mine.
Bertuccio! Bertuccio!
- Where were you? Valentine! - We must call a doctor.
It's too late for a doctor. We need a priest.
Go! Run! Go!
Please!
My dear, don't make a spectacle of yourself!
It won't help.
You're lucky, it's only mud. Your coat isn't ruined.
Was it not the Count of Morcerf I passed?
Quite possibly.
- You'll receive this man? - Well, Danglars...
Don't I receive you?
- Yes, but I'm not... - Disgraced?
- Yes. - Even then,
in business a reputation is like the stock exchange,
up one day, down the next.
Well then,
how's your reputation today?
I'm honored, dear Count, that you worry about my affairs.
Well, you know, they influence mine.
I resolved to leave Paris, you see.
My dear Count, we'll retain an unforgettable memory of you.
And I don't want to leave any debts behind.
Which is why I'd be much obliged
if you could provide me with six million within two days.
Six million! I've already given you that sum.
I need the same again.
Don't forget that Thomson & French have granted me unlimited credit with you.
You talk about Thomson & French.
They know nothing of my finances!
Over there, in Italy my coffers are empty!
How annoying.
If my letter of credit isn't met, I fear that Thomson & French
may declare you bankrupt.
Bankrupt? Me? Bankrupt?
The money will be lost because of you!
All those wonderful investments you recommended
failed lamentably!
Thank you, Hassan.
So we agree. Six million in two days.
Excuse me...
Give this letter to my husband.
Madam can do it herself. Monsieur has just arrived.
No, I don't wish to see him again.
FOR FERNAND
We're here, Sir.
This morning she wanted warm milk and my wife brought it.
Leave me with her. I'll hear her confession.
But, Father, she's unconscious.
She's in God's hands, Madam.
Not yours.
Jesus said...
"Your brother, Lazarus, shall rise from the dead."
"He who believes in me,
even if he is dead,
shall have eternal life."
"Why fear ye?"
"O ye of little faith!"
There! I'm naked.
How humiliating!
- How will I appear in public? - Where in public?
Have you forgotten the Villefort daughter's funeral?
Just drape yourself in black and no one will notice.
There's at least two million. Plus our hunting reserve...
- And part of the furniture... - Not that!
It's mine! From my parents.
You'd prefer bankruptcy and jail for me?
We were so happy.
Life was so beautiful, so easy.
And here we are. In a few months, fate...
These deaths at the Villeforts',
Morcerf's disgrace and suicide.
Now you talk of bankruptcy and prison!
What did we do to deserve this?
- I don't know, Hermine. - Yes, you must know!
God didn't suddenly go mad.
I've done nothing wrong.
- Have you? - Me?
Nothing. Of course!
Yes...
Yes, what?
I did something wrong.
My jewels should be sold,
and my furniture.
I must be punished.
I cheated on you, years ago.
I had a child with another man.
But you can't have children!
Perhaps it's you who can't.
In any case, with him, I had one.
It was a son.
With who?
Why don't you ask who the child is?
Or where the child is?
I have a son and I don't know him.
No one knows him. And nobody seems to care.
With one of the cashiers, I'll bet.
I often saw her with them.
She'd look at them,
with those dreamy eyes.
She'd lick her lips.
A woman's tongue, pink and wet.
It's amazing the power such a small tongue has!
Right in front of a young cashier.
I hired them too young.
But the good times are over.
Anyway, young or old--
now I can't pay them, so...
Everybody out! Out of here!
God bless you for your hospitality.
I quite understand that you couldn't stay in the house
of a suicide.
It's the only sin God won't forgive.
Suicide from self-disgust
means doubting God's infinite mercy.
If His mercy is infinite, I'm sure He also forgives despair.
To forgive means to forgive all.
Especially the unforgivable.
Perhaps from your point of view, Countess.
No, don't call me Countess.
Those times are over.
This is why I'm bequeathing my estate to your congregation.
We shall pray for you, Madam,
and ask God to help you find peace...
And to protect you, Sir, in Algeria.
And ask that He allows me to regain the honor my father sullied.
Go tell the family I'm ready.
- Should we wait for the others? - Which others?
Well...the other people who will join the cortège.
Surely the departed would have had friends.
No, Sir, there's only us.
Let's go, please, and be done with it.
They've gone home to mourn.
Let's get down to business.
Are you satisfied?
So, 3,000 francs for loose screws,
2,000 not to put the stone on.
I'll pay 20,000 for one small thing.
For that?
What would you like for that?
That we get the girl back out?
Are you providing medical students
with new flesh to dissect?
I just want to buy your hearse and the horse,
and your silence, of course.
That'll do.
Still, you priests, you're into funny deals.
It's all right! Come!
Let's go! Hurry!
Come on!
Right, Bertuccio, quickly, to work!
- How's the toad today? - Still asleep.
But it means nothing. Toads aren't humans.
True. While the toad sleeps, Valentine could die.
We'll do as we said. Quick!
She's breathing, Bertuccio! Like a hibernating animal.
We must keep hoping. Come down and give me a hand!
When she comes to, she'll be thirsty, cold and frightened.
- She'll feel completely lost. - Don't worry, I'll watch over her.
When she wakes up, I'll take her to stretch her legs.
I'll give her good Provence wine. Don't worry.
By the way, does Maximilien know about all this?
- No. Of course not! - Why not?
Isn't he like your son? It's cruel.
No, prudent.
If it went wrong, the boy couldn't take it.
- Carry on! - If she doesn't wake up?
- Carry on! - You see, you're not so sure!
God! I hate black!
This black, Héloise, was your decision.
What do you mean?
My daughter was poisoned with four of us at home.
Valentine, my father, you and me.
Could Valentine have committed suicide?
No!
I don't think so.
Then who gave her the drink with the poison?
My father?
Your father? In his condition? It's out of the question.
Then it's either you or me. Did I kill my daughter?
- Frankly, I don't know. - Well, I do. Conclusion?
You're going crazy.
I accuse you of three murders:
Marie-Louise de Saint-Meran, Jules Barrois
and my daughter.
You are distraught with grief.
- To kill, one needs a motive. - Money.
Money? Oh, Lord! Money!
Yes... money.
First, Madame de Saint-Meran, so that Valentine would inherit.
Then you killed Valentine,
to inherit her fortune through me.
What of the servant, Barrois?
Barrois?
I had my eyes on his money too?
No.
Barrois should not have died.
It's my poor father you wanted dead, to be alone
with the money.
Since, after a decent lapse,
I, too, would have died.
Think.
Think, before you go too far.
If I'm the criminal you say I am,
if I'm accused and forced to face justice,
you'll suffer from the ensuing scandal the most.
Then your brilliant career...
Valentine's death broke my life. So, my career, now...
You have one last chance, Madam.
I'll take it.
- Unconditionally. - Don't get carried away, me dear.
I'm not offering you an escape, only an end less horrifying
than being cut in two by the guillotine's blade,
while the rabble jeers and spits at you.
Your famous poison
causes a painful agony,
it would seem.
But really...
You couldn't go without some form of punishment.
You have one hour, Madam.
Miss Valentine!
Miss Valentine, please!
Try to wake up. You can't go on sleeping.
Oh, dear, she's freezing.
Ah, yes, Abbé.
You're here for your honorarium?
Honorarium?
- Isn't that the custom? - It won't be necessary.
Caderousse knifed,
Morcerf, a suicide, Danglars on the run,
your daughter dead.
I've received ample recompense.
Besides, I've always been honest. I couldn't accept your money.
I'm not a priest.
Not a priest? You're Abbé Busoni.
No.
- You are. I recognize you. - No, Mr. Prosecutor.
You don't recognize me.
Monte Cristo!
- The Count of Monte Cristo! - No, Villefort.
I am Edmond Dantès.
Dantès!
- I didn't recognize you. - One never recognizes one's crime.
What do you want?
What do you expect me to do?
You want rehabilitation, yes?
I'll intercede on your behalf.
The king will give you justice.
Justice is my affair.
I brought you this address.
Cherche-Midi Prison.
Murderers' Quarters.
You'll send me there?
I didn't kill Héloise.
- She killed herself. - Then she's better off.
I give you my word.
- I don't want to go to jail. - Even to see your son?
- My son? - What?
You didn't know you had a son?
Quite a man. His name's Toussaint. Found on All Saints' Day
in a park near Auteuil.
I hope his case won't come to your court.
Requesting death against one's own son is quite different...
Than sending Edmond Dantès to rot in the Chateau d'If.
Farewell, Mr. Prosecutor.
It pains me to take my leave...
As one says
in your world.
Or rather...
Just...suffer.
My poor child...
- I wanted to see you before I go. - I'm on my way too.
Going back to Marseille?
A lot further.
Algiers?
So much further.
You can't guess?
I'll give you a hint.
The other day, after the duel, you gave me a pistol as a souvenir.
No, Maximilien. Give it back. Give it back.
I don't have it here.
Where is it best? In the temple, or the mouth?
Maximilien.
- Have faith. - In whom? In God?
Since Lazarus and Christ, few have risen from the dead
as if God had lost His touch.
I felt the same at your age. Same rejection, same revolt.
Almost the same words.
- I, too, wanted to die. - Why?
You have it all, including love.
Back then, I had nothing.
I wasn't allowed to see the sun, let alone to love.
When, one day, while in the deepest despair...
I met someone.
Someone who talked to me as I do to you.
He said, "Have faith."
"Have faith despite all, Edmond Dantès."
"Have faith."
Edmond Dantès? Why Edmond Dantès?
Because that's who I am.
No... Edmond Dantès died.
Many people thought so. Even your father.
My God.
How I would have loved to tell him the truth.
My father would have recognized you if you were Edmond Dantès.
He didn't recognize me disguised as Lord Wilmore.
Lord Wilmore?
A disguise?
The conjuring tricks you and Valentine liked so much
are nothing compared to what I can do.
Lord Wilmore, Abbé Busoni and Monte Cristo are the same man.
And this man... is Edmond Dantès.
- How? Why? - It's a long story, dear boy.
A story which includes Valentine. Do you want to hear it?
No! I just want to hear the report of a pistol.
You won't hear anything. You'll already be dead.
Bullets are quick, you know.
Unless you miss, it's so easy.
Your hand shakes,
the barrel of the gun moves slightly, and you end up like old Noirtier.
- Do you have a better suggestion? - Yes... poison.
I know a marvelous poison.
You just let yourself go.
You fall asleep serenely.
There's no pain.
You start dreaming.
Then the dream starts to fray,
like mist pushed by the wind.
Soon...
There's nothing.
It's all black,
the void...
Silence...
- It's all over. - Give me some.
Not tonight.
I'll do you a deal, Maximilien.
Grant me 14 days.
During that time, promise me you won't take your life.
Then we'll meet in Marseille and if you're still in such despair,
I promise I'll give you the drug.
Do you think I'll have forgotten Valentine in two weeks' time?
- Eternity wouldn't suffice. - If eternity is not a drug
strong enough for your despair,
there's no need to rush into it.
Fourteen short days. That's all I ask of you.
I hope you can do this for me.
In memory of what Lord Wilmore did for your father.
All right.
Two weeks. Not an hour more.
- Do you swear? - Yes, I swear.
But you must swear too.
Yes, Maximilien.
I swear to help you die if I find I was wrong.
All is ready, my lord.
We'll leave when you please.
Shouldn't your cook be doing this?
There's no more cook.
I can no longer afford it.
- I let him go this afternoon. - Why didn't you tell me?
I'd have taken him with us and paid his wages.
It would have been no problem.
Do you know the news?
I took my leave from Beauchamp,
and heard that Franz d'Epinay is in love with Haydee de Janina.
They're already talking marriage.
Things won't end so badly.
- They will. You're leaving. - We're leaving. Together.
My husband liked predicting the weather.
He knew the clouds very well.
He used to say that good weather was an anomaly between rainy times
when it's cold, gloomy and gray.
You've been my anomaly
and it's been very sunny.
What are you saying?
- Where are your trunks? - Nowhere.
Aren't you ready?
Hurry, Camille. We're going now.
My appointment in Italy cannot wait--
I'm staying with my beans.
I'm not going. Isn't it obvious?
What's happening?
Camille...
What is it? Don't you love me anymore?
Oh, I do.
I'll always love you.
You're a wizard.
I was asleep, you woke me up.
I saw the world again and it's beautiful.
- Especially in summer, but... - But what?
I'm not a woman. Not a real one.
Just a funny little girl.
I move you, but you don't love me.
This is crazy.
I do.
Yes, I do love you.
You're so pure.
Let's say naive.
With time, it won't be enough. You'll tire of me. I'll suffer.
You've tasted too many spices to be satisfied with sweets.
I love sweets.
Why deny them to me?
If you ever return, I'll be here.
But you won't return.
Mercédès will know how to keep you.
Mercédès?
She's waiting. For 20 years you've been waiting for each other.
You're crying?
It's those damned onions.
Anyone from the country knows they make you cry.
Camille...
They're beans.
They must be... of the onion family.
You'd better go very quickly.
Say nothing. Don't make a noise.
Let me go quietly back to sleep.
Edmond...
Yes, Camille?
You had them all pay the bill?
Yes, they paid dearly.
May I give you my bill, too?
Your bill?
The price of my renunciation.
I return you to Mercédès. It's worth something?
You're a just man.
I thought of it, but I didn't want to humiliate you.
My fortune is yours. I don't need it anymore.
- I don't want your money. - Then what?
I want you to forgive.
To forgive? Me?
- Who? - Everybody! The whole world!
Even the rain, when it catches you without a hat on.
I say this because I succeeded in forgiving my husband's killer.
It took me some time, but I did it
and I believe you can too.
This is what I ask, anyway. Is the price too high?
It's very high.
But I promise I'll try.
Monte Cristo doesn't try.
He succeeds.
I love you, I love you, I love you.
Come on, wake up!
Wake up!
Come round!
She's dead!
She's truly dead! Wake up!
Faster! Hurry up!
- 11... 12... All here. - All.
Everyone in Paris shall know that you're an honest man.
The least Thomson & French could do was to meet
the Count of Monte Cristo's letter of credit.
That credit. What an event!
You can say you had me worried!
Unlimited credit! Unheard of!
You must admit that no one had ever heard either
of someone as exceptional as the Count of Monte Cristo.
Good day, Baron. I'm Luigi Vampa. What can I do for you?
- Why am I held captive? - A captive, you?
Not at all! You're my guest.
You abducted me, drugged me and locked me up.
What was that horrible drug?
- My throat is burning. - Have a drink. You'll be better.
Now, what would you like? A little Chianti, perhaps?
We have one I'd recommend.
- Fine, but be quick! - It'll be 200,000 francs.
200,000 francs... For a little wine?
What do you mean, "a little wine"?
For 200,000 francs, Luigi Vampa gives you a whole bottle.
Even a whole bottle or a barrel. Even a full vat!
It's crazy, mad!
Aren't you a banker? Bankers are rich, no?
Keep your Chianti.
Give me water. My throat is on fire!
A jar...or a glass?
The prices are 100,000 for a jar,
only 20,000 for a glass.
20,000 francs... for a glass of water?
It's very pure.
You're a-- You're a bandit!
Like you, Baron.
The only difference between me and you
is that I make no secret of it.
Who is this man? What does he want from me?
You're the torturer?
Sir, have mercy! Have mercy on a poor man!
Do you feel any regrets?
Regrets? What for?
- For the harm you have done. - The harm I have done?
- I haven't done much. - Are you sure?
Think. Think hard.
No, I...
I can't think of any. Sincerely, I can't.
I made money, but was that wrong?
Anyway, I also lost quite a lot.
Gold mines with no gold, sturgeon fisheries with no fish.
And in Ukraine, wheat fields with no wheat.
I'll help. Marseille, 20 years ago.
An inn in the Catalans village, where wine was cheaper than here.
It only cost a few shillings.
- Caderousse's Inn? - Your memory has come back?
Do you remember that lovely summer day?
You were drinking under the arbor, with Fernand Mondego.
- With Caderousse. - Hold on. How do you know this?
The Count of Monte Cristo!
No, Danglars. Edmond Dantès.
Impossible!
I should have expected it. "Impossible" is what you all say.
It goes to show that you have less imagination than I.
Get out of that rat hole!
Outside, it's a beautiful Italian day.
No way!
I'm not mad, Dantès. You'll shoot me in the back.
- Or your men will. - They're not mine.
As for me... I'm learning to forgive.
I'm starting with you. You're very lucky. Go!
Hurry! Get going.
I feel mercy is less fulfilling than vengeance.
Well? And my money?
- What money is he talking about? - No idea. He had nothing on him.
Nothing? I had twelve million!
You must be confused. You always told me
that you had no money.
Be logical, if you'd had that much, my friend Vampa here
wouldn't have abducted you for a ransom.
I would only have abducted Mr. Danglar's millions.
Don't worry. I went through it too.
Prison drives you crazy.
- Remember what we agreed. - You have my word.
The millions from Mr. Danglars
shall go to poor people, orphans, widows and hospitals...
And to prisoners,
in the form of blankets, medication and food.
Don't forget the prisoners.
- The Count's expecting me. - It's not two weeks.
You're early.
Yes, I know.
I can't stand this suffering. I want mercy.
I kept my word. Your master must do the same.
So, Maximilien. Still in despair?
Yes. I warned you.
I'm ready. What about you?
- Bertuccio. - Sir?
Do as I told you.
He'll give me the poison?
It's better. You won't dirty your hands.
Maximilien, I must warn you.
You'll experience an extremely violent shock.
Something you can't imagine.
You fear I'll be a pitiful sight.
After all, you could be right. One never knows.
Dying might not be that easy.
I'd like to drink the poison now.
Whatever you feel, don't scream.
Our neighbor is a very old woman. Let's not frighten her.
I'll control myself, don't worry. I can stand pain.
If you are truly courageous, now is the time to prove it.
Come with me.
"Only one loaf of bread, baker. My son's gone. Mercédès Igualada."
"Two.
Ed... mond...
Dantès...
Is... back!"
I hope you're not crying. Remember...
I was not even his age when I left.
You! What are you doing here?
The same as you. I live here. I belong here.
And your Monceau Plain mansion?
Sold!
Or rather, no.
No, left to monks needing a monastery.
I did the same thing with everything I had.
Do you still have the little house on the hill?
I've always kept it.
And now that's all I have.
Then I'm saved!
I know where to sleep.
Come.
- Stop! You'll make me fall! - You'll get back up!
One always gets back up!
I feel dirty.
You smell of Paris, money,
coaches,
sweaty horses,
tavern food.
You should jump in.
Come! Come!
- No! You know I can't swim. - Yes!
Come!
- No, that's crazy! - Come!