At the behest of Louis XIV,
Joffrey of Peyrac, the Count of Toulouse,
was burnt at the stake for witchcraft,
Angelique survived.
Hounded by the King's men,
she took refuge in the Cour des Miracles.
She built up a new fortune,
joining the bourgeoisie.
She finally decided
to win back a place at Court
by marrying her cousin,
Philippe of Plessis-Belliere.
Fascinated by Angelique's beauty,
the King grudgingly gave his blessing.
Soon the Flanders War
took his friend from him,
but opened the way to
an otherwise doomed love.
I am dying, Sire.
You are raving.
It's because of the fever.
No, Sire.
Life is leaving my body,
but my wits remain.
- The King loves my wife.
- What?
Yes.
The King of France
wants the only possession
I am unable to relinquish,
my wife.
But, Sire,
I too love Angelique.
And since
I cherish my King more than my own life,
existence had become
too heavy a burden to bear.
My friend.
I pray Your Majesty will forgive me
for being so brutally forthright.
The only excuse
is my present situation.
ANGELIQUE AND THE KING
Don't stiffen up, Monsieur Cantor.
Look at your brother.
- Swim, darling!
- I'm afraid.
Monsieur, the men of our family
are never afraid!
You will uphold that tradition.
Why are you so hard on the boy?
In this day and age,
only the strong survive.
I love my sons too much
to mollycoddle them.
Madame, I find you as splendid as ever.
Desgrez. A man of Court now?
Monsieur of Reynie and myself
are at present lighting up Paris.
A lantern at each crossroads.
Our capital, the City of Light!
- What brings you here?
- The King.
- What does he want?
- You.
A joke?
The truth! With your mourning over,
he would like to see you at Court.
I refuse!
That is rather delicate.
For the King's wishes are our commands.
I shall not go!
I do not wish to see the King.
Twice he took my happiness.
First with Joffrey, and then with Philippe.
It was the war that took
Plessis-Belliere, not the King.
The war didn't kill him,
he let himself be killed.
As you well know.
In that case...
The King has a diplomatic mission for you.
A mission?
Of the highest importance.
Well, he could give it to another.
You will remain here,
and your sons will know
neither glory nor honors.
By their birth they deserve regiments.
Instead of that, they'll be country squires,
wielding swords while wearing clogs!
What is the nature of this mission?
It's enormous!
Economic, political, strategic and military.
It would have been a unique opportunity
to scale with ease
the higher rungs of glory.
- You're mocking me.
- No.
The feat you could accomplish
would eclipse the name
of Madame of Montespan,
the King's favorite.
- Explain.
- I cannot. I am but the messenger.
You know what you are, Desgrez?
A corrupter!
Hardly!
So be it! I shall go to Court
and endure the King...
Unless it is he who has to endure me!
- What is it?
- It's Bontemps, Sire.
Enter!
The person is here, Sire.
Louis!
- What's going on?
- Work, Madame. Always work.
Sleep now.
And you, Sire, will you not sleep?
Affairs of state
must come before sleep, Madame.
Sire, I...
Stand up.
The Court has missed you.
The King, too.
Time has changed nothing, Madame.
Quite the contrary,
as regards my feelings for your person.
Forgive me, Your Majesty,
but Monsieur Desgrez spoke of a mission.
I see that your inflexibility, too,
remains unchanged.
If my character displeases you,
I shall try not to let it show.
It does not displease me.
It amuses and enchants me.
Wounds me, too, on occasion.
The kingdom of Persia.
The Russians have proposed an alliance.
Were this to be ratified,
all Christendom would be in peril.
The Persians must be allied to us,
not to the Muscovites.
Lord above, Sire! What can I do?
See to it that the alliance treaty is signed.
- You wish me to go to Persia?
- No.
His Excellency Bachtiary Bey,
the Shah's Ambassador, is in Paris.
I know nothing of diplomacy.
- We are not of that opinion.
- I don't speak Persian.
Your eyes, your smile, your posture
and even your hair speak Persian.
You will have Saint-Amon as interpreter.
Saint-Amon? He doesn't have all his wits!
But he has his tongue.
Of all my diplomats,
only he speaks Persian.
May I know what exactly
Your Majesty expects of me?
Make the Bey laugh,
tell him of our customs.
In short, tempt him to Versailles.
So far, Saint-Amon's blunders
have kept him away.
Sire, this is a mission
for a courtesan, not a diplomat!
Good God! So much wrath!
I simply thought that
where a mediocre man had failed,
a woman such as yourself
could easily succeed.
What kind of woman is that, Sire?
You do not entrust this mission
to the Marquise of Plessis-Belliere,
but to the widow of the sorcerer of Peyrac!
At times you go too far!
You paint me blacker than I am.
And I shall prove it to you.
Monsieur Colbert!
Yes, Madame, my best minister
sleeps but four hours a night.
Exactly according
to Your Majesty's wishes, Sire.
Thank you, Monsieur Colbert.
The restitution order
for the Hotel de Beautreillis,
the property of your first husband,
Joffrey of Peyrac, the Count of Toulouse.
Thank you, Sire.
Will you see the Persian Ambassador?
Will Your Majesty permit me
to think it over?
We feel ready to permit you anything.
Sire, I would not like to think
that you consider this
the price of my acceptance.
Madame!
You are quite impossible.
But, whatever you do, never change.
Men!
Sire, forgive me for intruding,
but I thought Your Majesty should know
that Madame
the Marquise of Montespan is awake.
- Very awake?
- Prodigiously so, Sire.
Bontemps, you are able
to express so much in a single word!
Wait for me here.
It can't be!
Who are you?
- And who are you?
- This is my home.
Who are you?
My name is Savary. I'm an apothecary.
- How did you get in?
- Secretly.
After the bailiffs took the Count of Peyrac's
furniture and treasures,
I tidied the place up as best I could,
and moved in.
Why?
I was the humble disciple
of the greatest philosopher ever.
The Count knew about everything, Madame.
- Come.
- The Count knew about everything.
He knew about metals buried
under mountains, Oriental perfumes,
Venetian poisons and medicines unknown
to the Sorbonne.
He was close to the great secret,
the chemical process by means of which
man could control a force
capable of overturning the world!
Such a man could not have died
at the stake.
Alas! From the day he was arrested,
I never again saw the Count of Peyrac.
And that?
I lit it, for my work.
Come.
And this?
Whose shirt is this, all stained with blood?
It was your husband's, Madame.
I bought it off the executioner
immediately afterwards.
Tell me he isn't dead! Tell me he's alive!
Madame, you must not entertain
unreasonable hopes.
I was right there.
I saw the flames lick his legs,
reach his chest,
blacken his head and totally consume him.
It's you.
Your disappointment
is hard to bear, Madame.
Here already, then?
How did you know to find me here?
I know everything.
This can be very tiresome, mind you,
because one then understands
that one knows nothing!
Isn't that true, Monsieur Savary?
You know him?
Yes. Alchemy and the authorities
have never gone together well.
What are you doing here?
He is my host!
In that case...
It will soon be dawn.
At 8:00 this morning,
His Excellency Bachtiary Bey
will be attending an execution in Suresnes.
It would be an opportune moment
to make his acquaintance.
I shall not go.
- But I thought...
- You thought wrong!
I shall leave you, then.
Thank you.
Monsieur Apothecary, known criminal.
Madame of Peyrac and Plessis-Belliere.
He said Bachtiary Bey!
- Bachtiary Bey!
- So?
When I was in the East I heard about him.
He is ambassador and general-in-chief
of the Atlantic.
He never travels
without his amphora of naphtha.
Naphtha?
It's a liquid material
with infernal and magical properties.
Made in Persia?
It is not made. It springs unbidden
from the bowels of the earth.
Madame, if you could procure
just a little for me,
you would help me to continue
your husband's work.
In that case, I shall go.
A pity! He has already left.
When Desgrez leaves quickly,
he never goes very far.
Here he is.
You have changed your mind, Madame?
No. But I shall go all the same.
Chief Executioner, His Excellency asks...
He would like to know the procedure
for making the suffering last.
- It's over, I hope.
- Yes, yes.
Madame, His Excellency wishes you
to watch the spectacle at his side.
The spectacle?
It is one, alas.
Spectaculum means
"that which draws the attention."
Spectaculum!
Please.
As yet, His Excellency has only been
sent women unworthy of his rank.
Filthy, repulsive creatures.
He asks whether you are a gift.
His Excellency is... What's the word?
He's mortified, that's it,
at having missed the end of the torture.
How can he now recommend it
to the Shah?
He wishes to see it again.
- The torture?
- Yes.
I have no other prisoner.
- What did he say?
- To take one of his guards.
He's mad!
That word doesn't exist in Persian.
Translate it!
His Excellency orders you
to his residence for a light meal.
- He orders me?
- I'm only the translator!
Tell him that I submit.
Please take a seat, Madame.
So Your Excellency speaks French?
I do.
I hope you had fun.
I rarely have fun, Madame.
Was it those filthy trollops
who taught you such elegant French?
No.
It was a Jesuit priest
who was my tutor for nearly ten years.
Dead now, alas.
Did you try out a torture on him?
No, I pushed him into the lion's den.
They didn't leave a scrap.
He had thrashed me for a Latin text.
He thought my translation was too free.
I hate receiving blows
which I am unable to return.
As does everyone.
Not women.
You believe that?
I hope so, for their sake.
You are odious!
No man could speak to me thus and live.
I am a woman.
In my country, women are silent,
and hide their faces.
In France, they powder their noses
and men listen to them.
I hoped to find a civilization here.
You're nothing but barbarians!
Who are you? An ambassador?
No.
- A gift from the King?
- No.
Well, then?
I am the Marquise of Plessis-Belliere,
someone particularly interested in naphtha.
Don't tell me you are also versed
in the sciences?
And why not?
I begin to see why Monsieur Colbert
says the French are ungovernable.
Yet I shall show you the naphtha.
His Excellency Bachtiary Bey,
knowing that I negotiated
the Treaty of the Pyrenees
and therefore the King's marriage,
said to me, "My dear fellow..."
Monsieur Desgrez tells me that,
despite the orders you were given,
you left Madame of Plessis
alone with the Bey!
Yet all the blonde harlots
previously sent to the Bey
ended up as bloody corpses
along the banks of the Seine.
Your idiocy is no new thing, either!
On the Treaty of the Pyrenees
your incompetence was limitless!
You are revoked without title or pension!
Get out!
But, Desgrez, in your opinion,
can the Marquise suffer the same fate?
I fear the Bey cannot distinguish
between a French marquise
and a French streetwalker.
But why did he cut their throats?
Sire, I am intimately acquainted
with the passions of evildoers,
but not those of Orientals.
Take a hundred horses and bring her back!
Forgive me, but it is impossible
to intervene officially.
Or the Bey will leave for good.
Not like that.
How, then?
In France, Your Excellency,
a woman must be won.
When a man desires a woman,
he must first woo her.
What is that?
It means all the attentions
a man can show a woman,
which produce reciprocal attentions
from the woman to the man.
I prefer my method.
- And what is that?
- Rape.
My dress!
You can put on a robe of my country
while we clean yours.
You'd be the most beautiful
woman in my harem.
In that costume you seem closer to me.
- Because of my dress?
- Yes.
- But you ordered her to do it!
- Yes.
Make them stop!
It's only just begun.
She's to receive at least 100 lashes.
- For obeying you?
- Yes.
And if she'd disobeyed?
She would have suffered
a long, painful death.
- So...
- So she had no choice.
The thing that complicates life
for you Europeans is choice.
Stop it now!
I enjoy the sound of the whip
in certain circumstances.
It stirs the senses
and pushes one to one's limits.
Stop it!
You disappoint me.
Happy now?
I have never known such a monster!
What are you doing?
I have eliminated the problem of choice.
I shall give you time to gather your wits.
I shall come back later, and
you will be mine, willing or not.
Call your men
and give the order that I can leave.
My guards won't see me
beaten by a woman.
I'll cut your throat.
Death is nothing.
There's the artery.
To the right, a little higher.
One quick movement.
What are you waiting for?
There you are again,
the problem of choice.
Now there's no problem of choice.
Don't kill him!
She's right, gentlemen.
You'll pay with your life!
I can't afford it, it's all I have!
You will not take her!
Let me go!
Let me go, you fool!
Madame, you are saved.
I never asked for your help. Who are you?
Prince Vladimir Stanislas Racoczi.
Prince?
And Count, seventeen times.
I'm entitled to ride my horse into churches
and cathedrals.
Very practical!
Apart from your many titles,
what else do you do?
I hope, Madame.
For what, the moon?
No, for the liberation of Hungary.
I am heir to the throne.
For whom did you abduct me?
For myself.
- When my stepbrother...
- Who is your stepbrother?
Louis XIV, the Sun King!
Really?
When I was in his favor,
I saw you at Versailles.
And your beauty immediately
captured my heart.
- Will you marry me?
- Are you mad?
All Magyar princes are!
My great-uncle, Mathias Zapoli,
Bishop of Budapest,
so feared a flood that he had an ark built!
I called him Uncle Noah!
You're very silly but charming.
Shall we wed, then?
Praise the Lord, you're safe!
The King will be pleased, Prince.
- He's truly a prince?
- Of the purest line.
And you truly abducted me out of love?
It was at my request.
For a large sum of money?
You sabotaged my mission!
I'll see about this!
She was stolen from me
and the King didn't even replace her!
But Your Excellency speaks French!
Spare me the false surprise.
If we deliver the culprit to you,
will your ire be appeased?
No.
But send his head to my ship in Toulon.
Figuratively speaking!
No! His head in a basket.
You shall have it.
But the King awaits you in Versailles.
I beg you on my knees!
- Are you still on your feet?
- I have gout.
Disgusting!
Because of my failure I was revoked.
Your King is very kind.
I'd have had you impaled!
Impaled? But that's abominable!
As the King's brother says,
"Impalement begins so nicely
but ends so badly!"
You despicable dog!
What a life!
Your Excellency, no! Listen...
Madame! I cannot believe my eyes.
You saved my life. It is yours.
I have no need of it!
Yesterday, I was your prisoner.
I could have succumbed,
but I was abducted
and had to pay a ransom.
You cost me a fortune!
I shall send you a case of rubies.
No amount of jewels
will excuse your conduct.
I have come to tell you, in person,
that you will never see me again.
I wish to see you again.
No Frenchwoman is more beautiful
or unsettling.
Tell me where I can see you again,
be it just once.
At Court, Monsieur.
At Court, to which I belong.
Will he come?
Of course. He promised me.
He promised Madame of Plessis-Belliere.
I have told His Majesty
and Monsieur Colbert
that you had no hand
in the Bey's coming here.
He has come. Now, Monsieur Desgrez,
you'll have to offer him the head
of your friend, Prince Racoczi.
His Majesty the King!
Well done, Madame. And thank you.
My dear, you have to face facts.
This is a glorious day
for Angelique of Plessis-Belliere.
You stink, Vardes! Morally, I mean.
The Ambassador of Persia!
Thank you.
I beg Your Majesty to allow me
to introduce His Excellency
Zoukim Bachtiary Bey, Prince Kadjar,
Ambassador Extraordinaire of the Shah,
to Your Majesty.
Your Excellency... We, King Louis,
bid you welcome to our Court of Versailles.
The Persian's got a few names!
- What are you doing here, Barcarolle?
- I'm your guardian angel.
Your Excellency, bravo!
Although unable to understand
the meaning of your speech,
we had no need of any translation,
so clearly did your voice
express the friendship of the Shah,
your King.
Shall we sign the treaty?
I don't know who likes you most,
the monarch or the cannibal!
Your Excellency, we are
most grateful for the diversity
and profusion of your gifts.
We, too, would like
to offer you a personal present,
something to remind you
of France and our friendship.
Sire, I have already chosen.
Impossible, Your Excellency.
Why?
Because the Marquise of Plessis-Belliere
is the King's favorite!
This is very sad news to me.
But Your Majesty has chosen
the most beautiful and intelligent.
Indeed, Your Excellency.
Allow me to thank
Madame of Plessis-Belliere.
Your greatness is matched only
by your fairness, Sire.
Madame, you may choose.
Sire, I have already chosen.
What is that? Some exotic perfume?
No, Sire.
It is to science
what the philosopher's stone
was to alchemy.
Madame, you have conquered me.
Henceforth, I shall do whatever you ask.
What do you say to so many victories?
Today I regret but one thing.
That what Monsieur Colbert
said earlier was a lie.
No, no!
Go on, go away!
That nauseous oily taste,
like nothing else...
No doubt about it. This is it!
- Thanks might be in order!
- Thank you.
I risked my life for your nauseous oil.
Very kind of you.
What will you do with it?
Hard to say. I'm not at that stage yet.
I'm only at the point
of formulating hypotheses.
You're nowhere, you mean!
Madame, the nature of things
is full of nowheres!
Words!
When the Chinese
discovered black powder,
that too began with words,
but it ended with a huge explosion!
Old lunatic!
Who's there?
Nobody.
I'm a pariah twice over now.
Because of you,
the Hungarians remain in chains.
Is this any time to wake people up?
And why creep in like a thief?
Your friend Desgrez is hunting me down.
His armed men are at my heels.
For what crime?
I saved your life.
Ridiculous!
Ridiculous? The Bey demanded my head.
And since the King needs the Bey,
and not me,
- he promised it to him.
- Impossible!
- You knew all about it.
- I assure you I didn't.
It's despicable!
Politics is built on spilt blood.
The King is your stepbrother.
Families, you know...
No one saw you come?
If you're afraid, I can leave.
I'm afraid for you, idiot!
Sorry.
How can I help you?
Feed me!
Turn around.
No. The sight of you is too pleasant.
Turn around or starve. It's your choice.
I love you.
Madame! Madame!
How did you get in?
I had to! Desgrez is here, with armed men!
- Go! Quickly!
- Come, come!
I can get you out safely. Quickly, quickly!
Follow me, quickly!
Guard all the exits! Search the garden!
- Madame, there's...
- Never mind!
- Are you alone?
- Yes.
Alone, and sleeping naked?
I have here a warrant for Prince Racoczi.
How low you have stooped!
I'm acting on the King's orders.
What a master!
One does not judge the King!
Get dressed and come with me.
You are under arrest.
My trust in you knew no bounds.
I brooked no restrictions on your freedom.
And you behaved like a...
Sire, do not say the word
you are burning to utter.
It is unworthy of you.
- I shall break you!
- I'm not afraid.
You should be! I'm capable of the worst.
Why did you hide the fugitive?
His crime was saving me.
- Your lover...
- I am free!
- You are not!
- Because you want me?
Desist from speaking to me
like a common person!
Call me Sire and Your Majesty,
like everyone.
Have you forgotten the proper way
to address one's King?
Plessis-Belliere's reign
only lasted as long as the roses.
Both so sweet-smelling!
Whereas you are like a carp.
You live a long time
but end up covered in moss.
Beware! I am able to control my wrath,
but in this instance I have just cause.
I am not cut out
for the hard job of royal mistress.
Such scathing words!
It broke Mademoiselle of Valliere.
And I don't have
Madame of Montespan's thick skin.
I beg you, Sire. Stay faithful to her.
And tempt me no more.
You are tempted, then?
What woman would not be?
His Majesty the King!
Those desirous of seeing
Le Notre's gardens,
in the company of our friend
the Marechale of Plessis-Belliere,
follow us.
Friend!
Don't take the King from me!
Such is not my intention.
I love him!
Love is not unknown to me.
Leave the Court!
The King would not permit it.
Play for me.
Your move, Athenais.
Excuse me, Your Majesty.
It is time to leave, if you wish
to be in Saint-Germain before nightfall.
You are right, my friend.
I shall join you later.
Come, Athenais!
As first lady of the Queen's household,
see that she reaches Saint-Germain safely.
No, Madame! No anger, no ire, no bleating!
Please.
So, have you ruined me?
The Marquise has enriched
the French Crown by 1,000 pistoles!
That must be rewarded.
Bring a stool
for Madame of Plessis-Belliere.
What do you think of this champagne?
One could soon get used to it, Sire.
If a select number of people
were to sleep at Versailles tonight,
would you join them?
I adore Versailles, Sire.
And the King?
But, Sire, without the King,
there would be no Versailles.
Saint-Fal, there you are!
For the Marquis of Vardes.
For the Marquise of Plessis-Belliere.
A great privilege! The King is spoiling you.
And he is corrupting you!
Such a mordant wit!
- Who is it?
- It is I.
Enter.
A word of advice.
Put your dress back on and go home.
The King desired my presence.
It is that desire which worries me.
There is a new fashion from Italy
which has reached the Court.
It consists of putting poison
in the soup of the husband,
the lover, the rival,
or the mistress.
Everything is poisoned.
Drinks, sorbets, but also clothes, gloves,
handkerchiefs, nightgowns.
Who would want to kill me?
Only the stupid or the ugly
have no one to envy them.
I was in the kitchen when
tonight's meal was being prepared.
There was a sorbet for each guest.
As it is my job to be curious,
I inadvertently knocked over your sorbet.
The dog ate it and died in five minutes.
It would have taken you two days.
- So, will you leave now?
- No.
Who is it?
Bontemps, Madame.
Please forgive this nocturnal intrusion,
but His Majesty wishes
to see Your Ladyship.
A moment, please.
- You still love the Hungarian?
- No, Sire.
By agreeing to sleep here,
you agreed to spend the night with me.
So what is it?
Joffrey of Peyrac, my husband,
whom you had burnt at the stake
after a mockery of a trial.
I had no choice.
There can be no honorable motive
for murdering an innocent man.
To me, a man counts for little.
The King consumed him.
I became King when I was five.
When Mazarin died,
my power was uncertain.
A poor country,
with neither army nor navy. Nothing!
Except for a nobility
with La Fronde on their minds.
I had to win or die!
Peyrac was richer than I,
forming a state within the state.
I had to bring him down.
I would do it all again.
If I had to sacrifice a member
of my family for my realm,
I would do so.
You are all alone, Sire.
I am the King.
You took Peyrac's honor and fortune.
Did you have to take his life, too?
He did not die at the stake.
- What?
- It's true.
It wasn't your husband's body,
but that of another condemned man.
Before being taken to the stake
he was led into the inn,
on the pretext of taking a last drink.
A final pleasure
offered to the condemned man.
The swap was done,
and Peyrac was taken
through tunnels to the Seine.
Trustworthy soldiers
put him on board a boat,
headed downstream, out of Paris.
I gave Peyrac back his life,
but not his freedom.
When he realized
he was being taken into captivity,
he took advantage
of a momentary lack of attention
to attempt to flee.
Joffrey, alive! He is free!
No.
The strong currents carried him away.
His body was found
and identified the next day.
I don't believe you.
The report, alas, left no doubt.
Joffrey would not have escaped
the stake, just to drown.
You are strange.
Disloyal to the living,
but faithful to a shade.
I'm sure he's alive.
A pipedream, Madame.
He is no more.
But I did not kill him.
Sire, this has shaken me.
Allow me to return to Paris.
At this time?
There is no special time for hoping.
You lied about that shirt!
I did not.
Joffrey did not burn.
But I saw...
I know! The flames blackened his head
and consumed his whole body.
- It's the truth.
- You're lying!
He was not burnt, the King told me.
But at the stake?
Someone else, as you well knew!
No, Madame.
The King spirited him away.
Then he came here to change.
Tell me you saw him!
No, Madame.
Wasn't the shirt I bought
off the executioner his?
Where is he?
The King told you he was alive?
No.
Then he is dead, Madame.
If you knew any different,
you'd tell me, wouldn't you?
Of course, Madame.
It can't be!
Therese!
Madame is home? I thought that...
Undo me.
Hand me my nightgown.
Are you asleep?
Are you ill?
My nightgown!
Take it!
Speak!
Speak!
Have mercy, Madame!
Will you speak?
- Speak!
- It hurts!
On whose orders were you acting?
Mademoiselle Desoeillet's!
Whose?
Mademoiselle Desoeillet's!
What's going on?
- The nightgown?
- Yes.
Don't touch a thing. She's dying.
Do something!
There's nothing to do.
It's a Maltese poison
for which there is no antidote.
I'll use this one.
Madame of Montespan is in there!
We'll share.
Careful with my hair!
You!
- What's that on your thigh?
- A beauty spot.
On the thigh?
It is a natural one. The King adores it!
He cannot like such a blemish.
You're a bitch!
And you are an angel!
Your hand, Madame.
Who is that triton, Sire?
- That madman Vardes.
- He'll be killed, Sire!
He's as solid as an oak.
Running water is home
to the bubonic plague!
You see death everywhere.
Because it is everywhere, Sire.
They'll drown!
Save them! Help them!
Never do that again.
Help!
Mademoiselle Desoeillet is drowning.
Go on, then, Vardes!
Do you know her?
She can't be anyone important.
- Who does she work for?
- No idea.
There are thousands
of minor ladies-in-waiting.
Follow her, watch what she does,
and report back to me.
As you wish, Marquise of the Angels.
Here's five pistoles.
Take me to the Barriere du Roule.
Jean Pourri.
He who sold children
in the Cour des Miracles.
- A newborn baby? What for?
- Nothing very pleasant.
The local rogues say it's the devil's house.
And the devil in question is a woman.
Voisin is her name.
She's in league
with a fellow with a burnt face.
Did they poison my nightgown?
Who could say?
All I know is that Desoeillet
came out again with Jean Pourri,
Voisin said, "Tomorrow, at midnight."
Midnight is in five hours.
Do you know her?
Impossible to say. Let's go.
Voisin, it is time.
The devil is with us!
Satan, brute force of evil, be with us.
Lucifer, superior spirit of evil, be with us.
Repeat after me.
In the name of Asmodeus,
archangel of crime,
prince of the damned.
I demand the friendship
of the King and Dauphin.
May this friendship never end.
May the Queen be sterile.
Madame of Montespan!
May my rivals perish!
May this sacrifice please you,
O Prince of Darkness!
No!
Catch them! Kill them!
Quick, don't let them escape!
Saved!
So, what do you say?
I have no power at Versailles.
And Madame of Montespan
is the King's mistress.
- We must wait.
- Wait until I'm murdered?
The King would listen.
Were it possible,
I would have told him before now.
So you knew all about Voisin?
Of course.
The Court is France.
Without evidence,
the King cannot act.
Must I remind you
that they are killing infants?
Perhaps, by letting a few die,
thousands more are saved.
I shall inform him about the poison
when the time is right,
and everyone shall know.
In the meantime, I beg you, leave Court.
Never! I am a woman,
and the life of even a single child
means everything to me.
I shall talk to the King.
Just one second.
Do that, and you will
never again see your husband,
Joffrey of Peyrac.
What is this blackmail?
What is this odious lie?
It is the truth.
Joffrey is dead.
He is alive.
I didn't want it to be known
by the King's future mistress,
but I saw no other way
of diverting you from your folly.
- I don't believe you.
- You shall.
Come.
I found the architect who built
your husband's residence.
The land formerly belonged
to the Grand Master of the Templars.
This well has an exit dating
from the time of Philip the Fair.
It comes out
into the Cemetery of the Innocents.
I discovered this all by myself.
Whose seal is this?
Peyrac's.
Do you recognize these bags?
They're Joffrey's.
He kept his gold in them.
There! This is tangible proof
that your husband
did not drown in the Seine
near Gassincourt.
I learnt all this
by means of a long investigation.
Nursed back to health by abbey monks,
Joffrey of Peyrac
made his way back to Paris.
Hunted and destitute, he had nothing left.
He went to the Cemetery of the Innocents,
made his way in
through the secret entrance,
and came here for his gold.
For with gold one can wage war,
one can hire accomplices,
one can buy freedom.
Joffrey! He's alive and free!
How delightful to see you happy!
Where is he?
I lost trace of him at a port in Midi.
Midi? I shall go and look for him.
I shall find him!
I am sure you will. And I am delighted.
My carriage, immediately!
Lisette, my trunks!
I leave this hour!
I beg you to wait until the morning.
The roads are not safe at night.
Tomorrow, then. Just to please you.
Where is Monsieur Savary?
He just rushed out, Madame.
I'll make that old liar pay!
Angelique of Plessis-Belliere.
I knew her at once.
The dwarf was devoted to her.
- If she speaks to the King...
- Disgrace!
But torture for you.
Then you'll be burnt for witchcraft.
We must be rid of her. Tonight.
Yes, but no poison this time.
I want decisive action.
An old method,
but one that's tried and trusted.
Wanted to kill her?
Joffrey!
Joffrey, my love!
Speak to me!
Why?
But why?
Why?
It was him, I saw him.
Perhaps he has changed.
The Count of Peyrac you loved
died at the stake.
He could have lost his rank and fortune
but remained himself.
Perhaps.
But in the meantime
you married Plessis-Belliere.
I thought he was dead.
He had died, and I was but a woman.
He loved no ordinary woman,
but Angelique!
He loves me no more?
He thinks you have no future together.
So many years spent apart.
We have the present.
When in love, you can fit
a lifetime into one night.
My men are guarding your doors.
The King's orders.
But you have the tunnel.
It's locked. Still, it doesn't matter now.
Locked doors can be forced,
so that pure air may circulate
through the temple.
Not my words. Solomon's.
Did Peyrac set you up here?
- In a way.
- And in another?
I swore to keep my silence.
How did you get in?
By the tunnel.
It's locked.
The Count of Peyrac gave me the key.
This, too.
My love.
I came to watch you sleep,
to see you without your seeing me.
Fate was cruel
to let us see each other.
The reason I fled without speaking
was because one word
would have awakened so many things
which should be left alone.
Your life is in the open.
Mine, henceforth, in the shadows.
I can offer you nothing now.
Forget me.
Soon, perhaps, you will find a new destiny.
Do not refuse it, I beg you.
Stay alive for us, for our children.
I take with me a piece of eternity,
your smile as you slept.
Be reasonable, Madame.
Reasonable?
I've never been reasonable.
I shall go to Midi and find him.
We shall both go to Midi.
Or, rather, all three of us.
- Three?
- The naphtha!
You old madman!
Find us a light carriage and four.
Let us fly!