Impromptu Page #2

- But you can't!

- Our guests arrive today.

- Precisely.

You blockhead!

These are the great geniuses of our time,

gathered together in our home!

They are a gang of parasites.

After a few days in their company,

I expect you'll come to your senses.

You'll humiliate me

if you don't receive them.

Charles!

You don't want me to be a success!

Gustav?

Gustav!

Attach little bags of seed

to the branches.

I want thousands of birds singing

when they come up the avenue.

Darling?

You're not dressed properly.

Go and put on your pink waistcoat.

That murderer!

There won't be a bird left in the sky!

Welcome!

Yes. Come on, Helene.

Welcome!

In my house, you are the nobility.

The nobility of genius.

Madame Sand!

- Hello. How was your trip?

- Madame Sand!

I'm melting with delight!

Oh, and you've brought your two boys!

- I'm a girl.

- Ah.

Here, Master Delacroix.

I have given you my own studio.

The light, you can see, is perfection.

When is Monsieur Chopin arriving?

Tomorrow.

Or so he wrote to me in his letter.

Here is the theatre!

Sometimes we indulge ourselves

in little amateur productions.

And here, Madame Sand, is your workroom.

If you open the doors, perhaps

our southern moonlight will inspire you

to write those sublime novels

which I so admire.

George! Up, quick!

We have food for a picnic!

And a donkey!

Come,

before the dreaded duchess finds us.

Cheers.

Come on!

What is wrong with our Georgie?

She is incurably disgusted.

With what?

Love, no doubt.

She should only have

what Marie and I have.

Only God deserves love.

I adore this silence.

George has gone off, it seems.

- Shall we go and look for her?

- Can you walk?

Not presently.

I need this rest.

My tour next month is 20 cities.

- Where are you going?

- Vienna, Geneva...

You're going on a tour?

Darling, did I forget to tell you?

What of your writing, your work?

What of me? Am I going with you?

We'll talk about it later.

Sophie!

We're going back.

Thank you, young man.

What a magnificent horse.

Must have been a great hunter.

Yes.

Yes.

I'd invite you to my home for a drink,

but I've got a house full of fops.

Guests of my wife's.

I won't let her move to Paris

so she's trying to bring Paris here.

Still, it's her money.

And I love her for it.

Where are you staying, lad? At the inn?

That is either Monsieur Chopin

or Monsieur de Musset.

- You haven't invited Alfred?

- I'm afraid so.

Do you think it'll be a disaster?

Why do you laugh?

This will be judgement day for George.

She should pay for her sins

like any other fallen woman.

She can't avoid everything

by being a man.

That's not Alfred at all.

This gets better and better.

- Who is it?

- Felicien Mallefille.

- He's the children's tutor.

- He can discipline those two savages!

I wonder where I shall put him, though.

In George's room, of course.

That's what he's accustomed to.

No!

He is a handsome brute!

How does she merit all these men?

He looks angry.

I don't think he appreciated

being left behind at Nohant.

- George!

- George!

I'll give you a horse

to ride back to the inn.

- There's something I must confess.

- Drat! We've been seen!

Sh*t!

George!

Not that one, monsieur! He's a devil!

By God! What a fine seat

that fellow George has.

Madame George Sand, dear. The authoress.

- Are you ready now to face me?

- God, Mallefille! Not now!

Yes, now.

No kisses? Where's my greeting?

Didn't you get my letter?

Yes. Your message was clear indeed...

between the lines.

- I will defend my position.

- Oh, balls!

You're not in the army any more.

You had an affair, not a pitched battle.

Oh, Mallefille.

Poor boy. It won't hurt for long.

- I know it must seem unfair.

- George.

- You promised to love me.

- I didn't promise to succeed.

- Whom did you come here to meet?

- No-one.

Help me off with my boots.

He should write his epitaph

because I'm going to kill him!

Your rival is imaginary!

If you're not going to help, go and find

somewhere to sleep and leave me!

Make that two epitaphs,

because I'll kill you if I find...

Oh, my God, you're hurt!

You're bleeding.

Yes.

Be a dear. Ask Ursula

if she's got something for a bandage.

Of course. Don't move.

No.

Bastard!

Oh, don't stop!

Monsieur Chopin, you were in the middle

of a miracle. I'm not quite yet cured.

How did you get in? Who are you?

I am your slave.

And you have summoned me

with your music.

Oh, yes. I think I know who you are.

I have heard you described.

Madame Sand,

rumour has it you are a woman,

and so I must ask you

to leave my private chambers.

Have I offended your modesty?

I apologise.

- Play me one more piece and I'll go.

- This is ridiculously improper!

And frightening as well.

Please leave now.

Still, I am content.

I've seen you at last.

And I am delighted to find

you're not a man at all.

You're an angel.

Hands, halo, wings...

everything.

Good night, my dream.

My poor lady, you are a wreck.

I am a resurrected wreck.

Move over.

Citizen Maurice,

the prisoner is ready for execution.

Viscount de Swamp, you are guilty

of crimes against the people of France.

To the guillotine!

To the guillotine! To the guillotine!

The king has escaped!

- Catch him!

- I will!

Tyrant! You will be brought to justice.

Long live the republic!

- The king's guard! We're surrounded.

- We'll hold the king as hostage.

We'll shoot the viscount and throw them

his body and demand their surrender.

Do we have enough ammunition

to hold them off?

- I don't think so.

- I can help you.

- My papa's got plenty of gunpowder.

- This could be very useful.

Beautiful!

Yes!

Good morning... master.

- Morning, Excellency.

- Claudette.

Ah. Velvet flowers.

Did you make these, Claudette?

I have a tiny talent

and an enormous amount of time.

But have you come to work?

I will leave you in peace.

Oh, no.

It's very bad.

No, don't!

That's really quite good.

One, two.

You're a fine shot, sir.

I can see you're not

one of those perfumed prancers in there.

- What do you say to a little hunting?

- I am standing guard on my mistress.

That one? She doesn't need your

protection, by God. Fascinating creature.

I'm sure she'd rather

come hunting with us

than sit around arranging her flounces.

"One warm word from you and I live.

One brutal word and I die."

"It doesn't matter,

for I am not afraid of death any more."

"I have already visited the beyond

in your music."

- Will you take it to him?

- Why don't you take it to him yourself?

I've been avoiding him all morning.

He's had a poor first impression of me,

I fear.

Before I meet him again, I want him

to be convinced of my complete sincerity.

Well? What do you think?

Look, you know him. How will he respond?

I can't imagine any man resisting

this prose. It would melt the Alps.

But tell me,

why do you pounce on our poor Chopin?

My dear, he's got one foot in the grave.

No, no.

We shall all be in our graves

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