Scaramouche

Halt!

Where's the Marquis de Maynes?

Come on! Where is he?

ln the name of the Queen!

Noel, the Marquis de Maynes.

Your Majesty.

l have never seen France

more radiant than at this moment.

We were not expecting you till tomorrow.

You summoned me.

l rode all day and through the night.

Leave us, please.

- l am angry with you, sir.

- Angry, Your Majesty?

Very angry! You know why, of course.

- Could it be for fighting Count de Talles?

- Among others.

- l only scratched him a little.

- They say you crippled him for life.

And five minutes later,

you killed the Baron Marblaux.

An unfortunate accident.

He ran into my sword.

And that brilliant conversationalist,

the Duke de Ramont.

The Duke fights tolerably well.

He had a fair chance.

He had no chance at all.

Now, listen to me, cousin.

l will not have you killing off my nobles,

either piecemeal or in bunches.

ln times like these,

the nobility must stick together.

Now, what was it all about,

this latest bloodletting?

- l really forget.

- What was it all about?

De Talles had the effrontery to put himself

on the right of the Cardinal at dinner.

As for Ramont, let me see...

As for Ramont?

A delicate matter.

He spoke disrespectfully of...

- Forgive me.

- Of a woman?

A goddess.

Now, the thing that l want...

l found one of these under my pillow.

This morning, the King discovered one

on his breakfast tray.

"Liberty, Equality, Fraternity."

The people that write such things,

what do they really want?

- Us, Your Majesty.

- Us?

Our rights, our lands, our heads.

Our heads?

Don't worry about this Marcus Brutus,

whoever he is.

l shall be glad

to take care of him personally.

There was another matter

l had in mind when l sent for you.

This, too, is personal,

but in a slightly more intimate way.

My dancing class.

How does one qualify for admission?

One has to be wellborn, under 19,

and unmarried.

Now, you are a marquis,

Your Majesty knows

why l have never married.

All the same, l think it's time that you did.

Someday you might run into a sword.

lt would be a pity if that were the end

of the oldest family in France.

Your Majesty commands me to marry?

May l ask one final favor?

You select my bride.

l think you'll like this child.

She's on the threshold of life.

Aline, this is the Marquis de Maynes.

lt seems that your dancing has made

a profound impression upon him.

He wishes to express his admiration.

Cousin, this is my protg,

Aline de Gavrillac.

Charming.

You dance delightfully.

You sing, too, no doubt.

- A little, sir.

- And you play some instrument?

The clavichord.

And l imagine you are skillful

with needle and thread.

Yes, sir. l knit and sew.

l also embroider, here and there.

l have read the plays of Corneille,

Racine, Molire, and Voltaire.

l did not understand a word of them.

l ride a little and fall off a lot.

l don't cook too well,

but l'm quite good at chess...

although l prefer snakes and ladders.

l have a nodding acquaintance

with geography, geometry...

astronomy, philosophy, and botany.

l'm afraid l gave up algebra when l was 12.

- She also has spirit, cousin.

- So l see.

May l have the honor of waiting upon you

while l am here in Paris?

l also play chess...

though l regret l am unfamiliar

with snakes and ladders.

Aline will instruct you, won't you, Aline?

lf you say so. l'll speak to Father

when l go home for his birthday.

l shall write to him.

l shall tell him it is my earnest desire

that you and the Marquis become...

good friends.

BlNET presents his famous actors

Lenore? lt's me.

Don't be nervous.

Forgive my prolonged neglect, my pet.

For here l am again, at your feet.

How softly your skin shines

in the moonlight.

Darling? lt's me! l'm back!

Monsieur Binet's charming troupe

of traveling players, wake up!

Where is she? My Lenore.

Your leading lady. Where is she?

- She's not here.

- Not here? Why isn't she here?

- She's gone to Paris.

- Paris. You're lying.

- To see her family.

- Her father is sick.

- Father? She never had a father.

- Maybe a sister.

Never had a sister, a brother, a father,

a mother, an aunt, an uncle...

- She has no one but me, has she?

- Only a husband.

A husband?

Monsieur Binet,

heaven's gift to the theater.

Are you by any chance trying to tell me

that my Lenore is married?

Yes, indeed. Well, practically.

- Practically?

- All but...

- All but, what?

- Married.

She got tired of waiting for you

to make her your own.

And now she goes to the altar

with another.

Paris. Tuesday. Noon.

Lenore, my bride. My beautiful.

What have l done to deserve you?

So far, remarkably little.

But l'm living in hopes.

- Roses.

- They're lucky for lovers.

Are they? What a pity they fade so quickly.

These will not fade, my beloved.

Diamonds.

l thought of your eyes

and went right out and bought them.

Just my eyes? How sweet.

l must see you start thinking

about all of me.

- l'm the happiest of men.

- And the richest.

Well, not quite.

They say you sell more sausages

than anyone else in Paris.

- Except for the Delmore brothers.

- The Delmore brothers?

Are they married?

- They're dead.

- Dead?

But with you at my side,

l'll make more and bigger sausages...

than anyone else in France.

Forgive the intrusion,

but vehicle ordinance number 4012...

forbids osculation in public conveyances.

First offenders

get three days in the pillory...

- Hello, my pet. How are you?

- Are you mad?

We're all out of our minds.

Haven't you observed it?

Lunatic! l'm on my way to my wedding

with a lunatic.

- Stop the coach!

- No. Patience. We're almost there.

And Lenore desires to be married.

Don't you, my darling?

l certainly do.

"Lenore"? "Darling"?

Do you know this man?

Yes, l know him.

That is, l used to know him.

He's a stupid fellow and an awful liar.

Pay no attention to him.

Who is he?

- Who are you?

- l've often wondered.

They call me Andre Moreau.

- Whoever you are, get out this instant!

- Won't you sit down?

That wedding gown

is most becoming, my darling...

but about this marriage, l have my doubts.

- l'm not interested.

- How dare you!

- You're wrong for each other.

- This is monstrous, atrocious, outrageous!

We have here a middle-aged gentleman,

an honest fellow, a solid citizen.

What does he ask of a wife?

That she sit by the fire of an evening...

the little ones at her feet,

darning his hose...

while he tells of the gossip

of the sausage bazaars.

He wants a mere half-dozen children.

Better make that a dozen.

And who does he pick for a wife?

An actress.

A traveling player,

experienced in a number of roles...

but never, l fancy, as the mother of 12.

- Did you say an actress?

- Yes.

Hasn't she told you?

Lenore is an actress.

An indifferent one, but...

lndifferent? l am superb.

The theater's in my blood.

Know what that means? One night, in the

middle of supper, she'll get the old urge.

And while you're having pickles,

she's off on the road again.

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