Gallant Ladies Page #5

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Why me?

We thought that if they had

to know a man...

before marriage, it should be you.

Forgive our haste. This is a revolution.

Farewell, Brantme.

I want a scene showing

life's sweetness on a summer's eve.

It's hot...

couples are joining together...

Ah! At last!

Is Victoire de Labadens here?

We're expecting her.

What do you think? I've given birth...

and I can still frolic like I used to.

What about me! Ten pregnancies!

Try that, ladies!

May I?

I'll keep my missal.

I want to appear pious.

I'll put her in the shadows.

She's forgotten her past since she married M.

de Noirmoutier.

Our pamphlets have ruined the king.

People think he sleeps with his henchmen.

It's one of our greatest victories.

He'll never recover.

What a shame Victoire couldn't be here.

They say she's fading fast.

What do you mean?

I heard she's dying.

Of indigestion, it seems.

The king has just fled Paris!

They've poisoned me.

My husband's family.

To keep the money.

But I'll have the last word.

When the Marchal died

three years ago...

I wanted to come but I was bedridden.

I know how attentive you are.

Your letter did me a lot of good.

Don't be sad.

You're in my will.

My heart was too big.

So was mine.

I never wanted to make

a woman stay with me.

That's why we loved you.

The best lovers are those who confuse...

friendship and love.

I've always known that.

Yes, you told me.

Help me.

Come in.

It won't be long now.

A priest!

She asked to confess.

She wanted to relieve her turpitude.

The family was sent out.

Four hours later, Victoire

still hadn't finished.

The priest had a fit of apoplexy.

He was replaced by another.

At last, at 3 in the morning...

the confession came to an end.

Then Victoire asked:

Send me a minister!

Now we have two religions,

I'd rather be on the safe side.

Then Victoire made another demand.

Send the priest back...

along with M. de Brantme.

Hurry up or I'll die!

He's the one!

He's the one with whom I made love best!

My knight rider!

Thank you for jumping over my body!

The next day, she was made up.

I'm going to die today.

Let's get it over with.

She asked for a violinist

to play until she died...

Go to Marguerite.

She's being held in Usson.

She needs you.

At four, just before dawn,

the violinist fainted away.

She left two thirds of her

fortune to the two churches...

with the order to share their profits.

She left me the jewels I had

always refused to take.

May God protect you!

Let them impale each other.

We stop when blood is shed.

It's only a game.

I came to save you, to take

you to a safe place.

M. de Canillac is the bearded one.

The other is M. d'Urf.

Come with me.

If I leave, I'll be killed.

My brother the king has

executed everyone around me.

Now my husband is heir, he has

to marry a foreign princess.

An Italian astrologist advises

me on when to make love.

That's why they're fighting.

My winter is better than your spring.

M. d'Urf writes too. He

deigned to sleep with me once.

M. de Canillac was my jailor.

Now he protects me.

One morning I showed him my breasts.

He wanted the rest!

Your turn now, M. de Brantme.

En garde!

Lunge, for God's sake!

You're a poor fighter.

One, two, three and boot!

Maybe I fight badly...

but I prick well.

You prick, sir! Good night, M.

de Canillac.

Supper awaits us in my room.

Good night, ma'am.

I'll watch over you.

Nothing but food to heat our fancy.

Some wine as a mouthwash?

Sit down. Don't drink too much.

One day I slept with de Turenne...

he was so drunk, he threw

up all over my breasts.

You've led me so far

along the path of imagination...

that I can no longer go back.

I'll keep you with me

and turn my back on Venus.

Ma'am, he's dead!

I know. I don't want him touched.

He's a young local boy.

He did everything so well. In

bed, he did a dozen stations.

He overestimated himself.

Do you scorn me?

I learnt long ago never to scorn women!

Not one!

Go now, Brantme. I'll carry

on living as I wish.

You'll remain the most surprising

philanderer ever.

I often think of Ronsard. He's dead too.

"I love to make love

and speak to women...

and put down in words my love for them."

That's your whole life, Brantme.

And maybe mine too.

Friends forever?

For all eternity.

Let us exchange our writings.

Never go back to court.

They'd destroy you and your books.

Make them forget you. That

can be a road to glory.

We're getting too serious with the years.

Never be serious. Remain

lighthearted, Brantme.

They'll say you're superficial.

So what? You're right!

Be light-hearted, merry and curious.

Farewell, Brantme. Many

a kiss on your lips.

Many a kiss on your lips, my queen.

My Queen Margot!

In those days...

I would dress...

in grey and white...

for the love...

of a lady.

Make me die a little!

We'll live in my chteau.

It'll be more practical.

It's no use keeping all this.

I respect you so much...

but marriage is like a betrayal for me.

I must be faithful to them all...

and to you too...

Jacquette...

I'll be faithful to you

by not marrying you.

My heart's too big.

I'm used to it!

Is this goodbye for good?

I can never say goodbye.

Well...

if you don't mind...

I'll call sometimes...

on a neighbourly visit.

We could sleep together...

on the off chance.

That's a fine decision to take.

We'll keep each other warm

in the years to come.

This is my will and testament.

My heirs are to print the books...

produced by my imagination.

Thank you, ladies,

for entrancing me so often.

Without you, mortal life

would be unbearable.

I also thank those who loved me long...

and those who dismissed

me, leaving me to others.

Thanks, most distinguished whores...

and forgive me if I've offended you.

I wasn't born to displease you.

I mention some but not all...

Thanks for your kindness

and the great moments you gave me...

in these dangerous times.

Stay merry and good-natured

as I love you...

and so I'll keep you all:

as fine as goddesses

and as welcoming as mortals.

Thank you and many a kiss on your lips.

Brantme's works were published

55 years after his death.

He was praised for bearing witness

to the women and manners of his time.

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