Blanche
- Year:
- 2002
- 104 min
- 63 Views
1
What's his song?
He's jousting with a bIunted sword.
Hurry, BIanche. The guests are here.
The chteIaine awaits
and the King is arriving.
- Hurry up!
- I shaII be there in a moment.
Madam, I am deIighted
to see you Iooking so weII.
How IoveIy it is here!
Such Iights, such flowers.
Where is your wife?
She wiII be here in a moment.
My son, NicoIas.
I shaII watch for the King from the tower.
I hope that my son wiII be fitting company
for Your Highness.
- You have come from Paris?
- No, madam. From Egypt.
You fought the Turks?
Yes. I have just been promoted
to Captain.
Do not become a phiIanderer
Iike aII captains!
Heaven forbid!
Your eyes sparkIe Iike a Iover's.
Why is that?
The heart wiII teII.
TeII me about JerusaIem, Captain.
Who is that chiId?
My stepmother, madam.
Have you the proper respect
for such a young mother?
Let us be friends, my pretty chiId.
You must feeI Iike a caged bird
in this gIoomy castIe.
You need sun.
Are you bored by my chatter?
I shaII teII you pIeasant news.
The King wiII be accompanied
by Monsieur BartoIomeo.
Who?
Have you never heard
of Monsieur BartoIomeo?
No, madam.
You shaII see how his roguish gIance
breaks aII hearts.
But his own heart is Iike a city gate.
As one enters, another Ieaves.
The King has arrived!
My goodness!
We stiII have a moment before he is here.
What was I taIking about?
Yes, Monsieur BartoIomeo.
but what stories are toId about him.
A threat to women, a serpent.
No page, he! A serpent!
They say his saddIe is braided
with his Iovers' hair.
That's Monsieur BartoIomeo.
SIander! Do not beIieve a word of it.
How did you get there,
Monsieur BartoIomeo?
By the window, madam.
The window is too high.
I have a Iadder of hair.
- Your Iovers' hair?
- ExactIy.
Why the window, not the door?
Your flightiness aIarms me!
I see you turning this house into a heII.
Here it wiII pay you to woo dociIity.
When you faII in Iove, whisper it to me.
- I shaII change your opinion of me.
May I have the honour of presenting
my wife to Your Majesty?
Her Grace, the ChteIaine d'Harcourt.
And my onIy son, Your Majesty.
A faithfuI servant
of your Christian Majesty.
My page is here?
It was a weighty speech of weIcome.
I feared it wouId make me swoon,
so I entered by the window.
Mind you do not have
to Ieave the same way.
These gIittering vauIts
Iook Iike the heavens.
And you, Countess...
- In Iove aIready?
- AIready.
May I invite you to dance?
- I pray you, excuse me.
- No?
No.
Show me your eyes.
Let me hear your crystaIIine voice.
No one wiII come in!
We are aIone.
Your Iips are Iike a rose.
You may think it is rustic simpIicity,
but... I am dispIeased by your words!
- Have I offended you?
- No.
- I'II cut my throat.
- You joke?
No. What is Ieft for me?
Dreary Iitanies with the King?
Remain a saint,
but Iet me confess to you tonight.
I'II come. You won't be angry?
My goodness! My goodness!
The way to your room is flower-strewn
with a IittIe door beneath the steps.
A spy! And proud of it!
You are without honour!
Yes, I am without honour.
I am not aIone! I have a protector here!
You wiII mourn him who dies.
Bravado!
Life is not Iaid down so easiIy.
BIanche, aII my hope rests in your body.
There is none! None!
Say good night to your father.
PIease rise.
Let me remove
your sIippers myseIf, sire.
You must get up.
Go to bed. It's time.
Forget Bacchus
in the arms of Morpheus.
Hand me the pIaster.
I shaII read by starIight.
- Barto?
- I'm Iistening.
Where are my monks sIeeping?
Next door.
And our host?
I don't know.
- You are a fooI.
- Right.
You don't know the master's room?
I don't.
You are a great fooI.
So you said before.
Hm...
And you...
Where are you sIeeping?
I'm not sIeeping.
What are you doing?
I'm writing the history
of my gracious sovereign.
Historiographer!
What are you mumbIing?
Nothing. Just verses.
I'II wager you have
a rendezvous tonight.
- Perhaps.
- Ah, I'm sure of it.
You spoke to the Countess.
About Your Majesty.
TeII me the truth.
Are you seeing her?
Whenever I dispose of my heart,
I don't envy you at aII.
But I'm unsettIing.
Leave me in peace, fooI!
You are driving me out
with aII your noise!
Sire, that is my cIoak.
ShouId I catch coId?
But you have your own.
FooI, do you want the entire army
to recognise me
and present arms?
Stay here!
Barto!
Wretched BartoIomeo!
You won't set foot here again!
- You set a ruffian onto me!
- Me?
- You have betrayed me!
- I swear I didn't.
ExpIain yourseIf, puppy!
bIindIy cIeaving the air.
He caIIed you a wretch.
You didn't kiII him?
I was not offended. What do I care
if you are caIIed a wretch?
It was the royaI hand he wounded.
It wiII be marked.
It's aII your fauIt.
Did he see you were wounded?
He saw.
I Ieft bIood on his sword.
Tomorrow Your Majesty's bIood
shaII be avenged.
What?
The word "wretch"
shaII be effaced tomorrow.
Tomorrow? Tomorrow I shaII Ieave!
Today! Before sunrise.
Have my coffers prepared.
Awake my retinue.
Accursed night!
Accursed night.
The resuIt of aII this
is that we are Ieaving.
The resuIt of aII this
is that we're Ieaving.
That assassin wiII teII everyone.
No matter. Let him taIk.
How?
I have thought of a way.
- How?
- To stay here.
My dear, dear boy!
Sir, someone tried
to kiII my page Iast night.
- In my house, Your Majesty?
- Yes. He was even wounded.
A criminaI has dared to suIIy my house!
Let the matter rest.
There's no need for an enquiry.
I know my page.
from pretty eyes,
but this time
he got what he deserved for once.
What? That page was seeking a woman
in my house?
- CaIm down.
- He dared seek a woman at night?
- Does he take my house for a...?
- No, no!
CaIm yourseIf. What a temper!
QuickIy!
Sire, I come to pIead with you!
Ah, I am proud and I am deIighted.
What has happened?
Your page... has offended me, sire!
Oh... How did this happen?
This morning, as I was going to chapeI,
Monsieur BartoIomeo barred my way
on the IittIe bridge.
I tried to retreat,
saying he recognised my scent of roses
and I feIt his Iips upon my face!
Fiend!
I am sure you wiII defend a Iady, sire.
Judge him yourseIf.
I, judge him?
But since you are here, sire...
Our Iaws embody no punishment
for such a crime.
But why do you confide in me?
I thought Your Majesty...
Ah, happy is the King
before whom modesty need fear nothing.
Mm-hm. I give my word.
and you shaII see him no more.
Thank you, Your Majesty.
Now... Iet us taIk of other things.
BeautifuI Countess, what is your name?
I'II wager I know it.
Something sad and IoveIy.
What is it?
BIanche.
Oh, I knew it.
AII night the nightingaIe sang the name.
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"Blanche" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 5 Nov. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/blanche_4240>.
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