N (Io e Napoleone) Page #6

- I'll write a few words to my wife.

- Yes.

I have a wife

and a three-year-old son.

I'd like my son here, not her.

He's beautiful and blond.

I wonder what language he speaks,

French or German?

See you tomorrow, Majesty.

What is it?

I thought I saw...

What is it? Who's there?

- Come on!

- Alert!

- Alert!

- Alert!

What were you going to do?

Murder! Murder!?

Let's take him.?

Call all guards!?

Come on, don't do that.

Don't think about it.

I'm sorry, Emilia.

I got him arrested.

Martino.

My teacher!

Damn me!

Madame? We have a visitor...

My God.

My friend!

I was searching for you.

- Ali told me.

- A gift for you.

It's only mother of pearl, but it's

worth more than what you saved...

this old shell of a king.

Heavens!

I come bearing trinkets

in a home which contains a treasure!

Please excuse the invasion...

it's an old habit of mine...

I'm honored by your presence.

- Majesty?

- Yes.

I know the person

you had arrested.

I know...

and I know you care for him.

He's an exceptional person.

- He lost his son in...

- Marengo, I know.

What will you do to him?

Poor thing,

what will they do to him?

Nothing. The war is over.

No more death, no more blood.

- Am I right?

- Yes, Majesty.

Thank you.

My God.

How are you?

Fine, thank God!

I never stopped thinking about you.

Dearest Pascalina...

you've always been in my heart.

What honor.

Ferrante!

Ferrante!

Easy there!

We were so worried about you!

You crushed me!

Big brother!

- Little brother.

- You stink...

but you look nice with a beard.

Let's go home.

Dearest Ferrante,

we were all so concerned!

- Bartolini, why the kisses?

- We're family now, tell him.

Now's not the time!

- Alright.

- Let's go home.

- Can I carry your bag?

- You'll carry nothing.

- What's this about "we're family"?

- Tell you later.

- It's not set in stone!

- I'll lead the way, enter.

At one point,

we see a brig pass by...

we get up and shout out "help"!

Nothing, we were on our last legs.

When we'd lost hope,

they turned back and came to get us.

We were elated,

but we get on board and...

They were pirates!

The same thing happened

to my mother's uncle!

They sent us below deck, four days

and nights of bread and water...

we arrive in Algiers. You should see

how nice it is, Martino.

Nice!

Even if it was terrifying,

they took us to the medina...

and sold us to a merchant,

Mustafa...

a good man!

He made us unload bales

of fabric day and night...

but we ate well together...

there were musicians and dancers...

what beauties...

The famous bayadere beauties, right?

- Would you shut up!

- I'll shut up.

- Who decided he's family now?

- It's not set in stone.

Brother, an experience

worth writing a book about.

- Write!

- I learned lots of Arabic words.

It means "My love, I love you."

What were you up to?

Shut up,

you've never even been there!

What's going on outside?

Everybody's running toward

the fortress.

In positions!?

Present arms!?

Brogi?

Falaschi?

Foresi?

The son of Beppe the miller.

- What's your name?

- Lucianino, Maestro sir.

- Stop it.

- That's right.

Aren't you ashamed?

- The condemned cannot speak.

- Silence! Shut up!

- He told us to be ashamed.

- Shut up!

You start off as bootlickers

and end up assassins.

Look who's talking, Maestro,

you wanted to kill!

Don't call me Maestro!

Did I teach you to become beasts?

We shouldn't kill anyone,

not even Napoleon, he's done good!

- Silence! Shut up!

- He's a good man.

Look at the good he's done to me.

You asked for it!

I agree with him,

we shouldn't hurt people.

Tell it to those cowards.

I repeated the right ideas to you

over and over...

but you have heads

and hearts of stone.

- Stop it! Stay back!

- You shut up!

He can't speak!

You think shooting people

doesn't make us suffer?

- We do it if it's necessary!

- Get ready!

Obey your commander,

that's all you know how to do.

- Slaves!

Prepare arms! Attention!

Do as he commands, you duffers!

Shoot, you animals, you beasts!

Ass-kissers!

What are you waiting?

Shoot!

Happy now?

Maestro, did you get

what you wanted?

No!?

No!?

Damn you all!

Assassins!

Traitor!

Assassin!

Assassin! Assassin!

Death to the tyrant.

Long live freedom.

He fled...

He fled!

He fled!

Where is he?

Where is he?

Where is he?

Damn him, he pretended he'd construct

roads and buildings...

Champagne for two!

He must've slept with some whore...

Dearest Martino...

I've longed to write you every day

but never had the nerve to...

so much time has passed...

who knows how much longer

I'll have to tell you this...

I allowed myself to be conquered

by the Emperor...

because I was certain

I had conquered him.

You fell for it tooo don't deny it.

That man is conquered

by himself only.

- Enough, I'm getting soaked.

- But so am I!

You're subordinate, get soaked.

- Get off your high horse!

- He thinks he's family too...

Boss, all set,

the wagon's almost loaded.

- Go then.

- It's raining.

- So get wet.

- Can't I wait a bit?

- Go!

- I'll get sick.

After we fled from Elba...

in 100 days he formed an army...

he wono torchedo killed...

he was defeatedo

and sent to a remote island...

let's hope it's forever this time.

But meanwhileo

there were 70o000 more deaths.

The load for Porto Longone

is setting sail.

Good job.

Very well, good.

I've just finished chapter 54...

the arrival in Algiers.

- What chapter did you read up to?

- 50.

Bravo, thank you.

Last night I wrote about

when we were sold at the market.

You're blocking my flow.

Talk to me later.

Here. Martino?

Remember,

your opinion means a lot to me.

I've written 300 pages

and my head's still chock-full!

We'll make another trip

for the barrels of Aleatico wine.

You handle it,

you're good, thank you!

I'll come for the pages later.

"Suddenly, a vessel so grand

appeared before our eyes...

A grand vessel."

My Waterloo

occurred shortly after his.

If we crossed pathso

you wouldn't recognize me.

I have gray hairs

and more wrinkles around my eyes.

I'll take that.

Give me him, you'll scare him.

He's mine too. Darling?

Isn't he the spitting image

of my father's uncle?

- You're sick, you half-wit.

- Look at his profile.

When I feel sado I hope

you're not as precious anymore...

my dear Martino.

I hope you've grown bald

and have a potbelly.

If you write backo

I beg you to tell me it is so.

Actuallyo there's no need to reply.

Let's forget about it and remain

what we were for each other.

Farewello Emilia.

How nice, breakfast in bed!

Thank you.

- Did you sleep well?

- He kept kicking!

You can feel him now.

He can't wait to get out.

How odd.

Where was it again?

Your sister found it

under the donkey's hay.

Odd!

I'm so happy!

Really, really happy!

GIORGIO FONTANELLI

MAESTRO AND PROFESSOR

Goodbye, Maestro.

"He felt destiny imposed

a new task upon him...

a definitive task."

"He said goodbye to his family

and left for St. Helena...

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