N (Io e Napoleone) Page #5

naval engineering...

and noodle soup.

Let's act out this folly,

me and you.

Make love?

Yes.

What's going on here?

- Madam surprised me.

- Good evening.

Good evening.

A surprise? You surprised me!

- What manners!

- I could say the same for you!

How dare you barge

into someone's room?

Someone who?

Dear Madam,

I'm the lady of the house.

You're a rather boorish

lady of the house.

That's true.

- You're a harlot!

- It's better than being a spinster!

Who, me? I'm betrothed.

- To whom?

- To whomever I want.

To him!

Cosimo Bartolini?

- But I thought that...

- I changed my mind.

He's not a winner,

but most men aren't.

Especially once

you've married them.

- Thank you.

- You should see my husband...

- Why?

- We even hit each other once.

He wanted his mother's portrait

above the bed...

she looks like a witch!

Dearest Diamantina...

excuse me, I'm thrilled

about the news you just gave me.

Simmer down,

the Baroness was talking...

go wait downstairs.

Sure, we'll talk

about our matters after.

Downstairs, you half-witted dope!

Take a seat.

- You were saying about your husband?

- He's never acted his age...

he's 80, remove the zero

and he's 8.

His mother still makes him soup

and feeds him.

- Horrific! Why not leave him?

- And eat bread and flies?

Better a poor husband,

you can leave him with no regrets.

Or even a young handsome one

like Martino.

It's true.

But it's too late for me now,

I'm old.

You're a rosebud!

You've lost weight too.

Out of sadness, seeing my home

half-empty like that...

They've removed

most of my furniture.

Enough whining, I'll leave now.

Why don't you stay the night?

I was invited to stay

with Count Pallavicino.

Head to Marciana at this hour,

no such thing!

The sheets are fresh

and the bed is big enough.

- Thank you.

- No, thank you!

I'm honored to have made

your acquaintance.

My respects.

- Good night.

- Good night.

- Martino, behave with the Baroness now.

- Go away.

Why are you here?

I was waiting for that chat

people have...

when they make important decisions.

Move it, you half-wit pinhead!

Will you help me?

Yes. Yes.

Kiss me, this is our last time.

Last time.

This and this.

Will the Baroness be needing this?

Take it just in case.

- Want a hand?

- No, thank you.

Why are you still here?

Go away! Pleaseo go away.

I'll take them inside.

Don't worry, I won't tell anyone.

Thank you.

You have to hold tight.

Careful with the painting of Baron

Mimi and his beloved mother.

Okay, alright.

Pascalina, hurry we're shivering!

Do you know Martino and I

are no longer together?

Stop it.

When I go back to Naples,

we'll never see each other again.

Stop it.

Isn't he delightful?

Too bad he's always cross.

- Do you know why?

- Enough!

Because he despises Napoleon.

- Enough, what does she care?

- She cares and how!

Pascalina is Corsican,

she was the Bonaparte's servant.

What can I say?

I loved him like a son.

Sit down,

tell us what he was like as a child.

What was he like?

A lad who was obedient, kind...

and very sad.

Many a night

I woke up to console him...

because he cried in his sleep.

- How old was he?

- Nine, ten.

But through the years,

he didn't change.

When his father, hoping

to be forgiven by the French...

for having supported

independence...

decided to send him

to military school in Paris...

he was devastated.

He was 16...

he didn't want to go!

He was afraid

of moving to another land.

He was ashamed

he spoke French so poorly.

Poor thing!

I'll bring more water.

Blockhead!

Piece of sh*t!

Martino!

- What happened?

- A disaster.

Bastard, how can you say such a thing

with that idiotic face!

- Not the onions!

- With the onions.

- Diamantina, what happened?

- Ferrante was shipwrecked.

We don't know that,

I just relayed the news.

With that moronic smile!

"There was a tragic, violent storm...

hope Ferrante's all right."

- He was laughing!

- I didn't want to alarm you.

- I'm sure they're not all dead.

- Shut up, idiot!

- Miserable!

- Not the codfish!

- Miserable! Idiot!

- Easy with the dried codfish!

- Relax.

- That man...

Evetything is fine.

That man brought a curse

upon this island.

- Me?

- I'm talking about N.

- N?

- I don't even want to say his name.

Who gave you the news?

Sailors from Livorno

who arrived this morning...

they found the Santa Marina

dismasted near Majorca...

the lifeboat was gone...

I just relayed the news.

- Laughing!

- I wasn't laughing!

One disgrace after another,

now Mirella too...

Why? What does Mirella do?

She doesn't want to stay here,

she left for her grandmother's...

this morning at dawn.

- Why?

- How should I know?

Calm down.

- Calm down.

- Poor Ferrante! I wonder what happened.

What?

It's my fault,

I should've left instead of him.

- It would've been the same.

- Exactly...

- See, he's laughing! He's laughing!

- No!

I'm trying to lift your spirits,

turtledove.

Now that we're engaged,

I feel responsible for you.

Engaged my foot,

the turtledove is dead!

I've changed my mind.

Laugh now you moron!

She dumped me?

She dumped me!

Goodness, my heart...

- No, no, no.

- Sorry.

Carry on.

I'd better not, I'll ruin it.

How proud I was

when they told me...

Beethoven composed it for me.

- Actually...

- I know!

Then he changed his mind,

like many did.

Many...

Write it down.

What?

Napoleon cries.

Write that?

Yes, son, we'll let everybody know!

Write...

On January 23, 1815...

Napoleon Bonaparte

declares himself...

reformed, remorseful...

no, repentant, write repentant

and that's that.

Don't write that's that.

Alright.

You bring out the sincerity in me.

- Ad posteritati notum 'facer'.

- Facere.

Right! Facere.

Latin rouses the anguish

of my days in military school.

There's a notebook

in the secretaire.

Thank you.

"I'm always surrounded by men...

I abandon myself...

to the impetus of my dolefulness.

Which way is it facing?

Toward death."

Toward death!

I was 17 and I wanted to die.

I was hateful!

I was ridiculous

with my Corsican accent.

I hated them all.

I hated France.

- I should write this.

- Yes! No...

No, write:

"I wasn't fond of France".

No, no, no.

I'm hungry, let's have a snack.

Marchand? Snaks!

Damn!

Am I still the traitor

Beethoven repudiated his love for...

even though I'm now convinced

he was right?

Sit down.

Doesn't repentance count?

Should it be content with itself?

I can tell you're thinking

something.

Say it.

You can't expect repentance

to be rewarded immediately.

That is true...

my friend.

- Aren't you hungry?

- No.

Watch.

Sorry.

Alright. Thank you.

I guess his Majesty would like to attend

another concert this evening.

Please, Campbell.

Please.

I adore my guardian!

Colonel Campbell, I adore him!

- Grab today's work.

- Yes, sir.

I heard about your brother...

I had a message sent

to all the harbor offices.

Thank you!

Evetything will be fine.

I hope so.

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