Scaramouche Page #3

Will you see to it?

lt may take a little time.

Now, l happen to know of a nearby tavern

where we could discuss the weather.

- We?

- lt's not of the best repute.

You'll need me to protect you

from the undesirables.

lncluding yourself?

You have a point.

l'll endeavor to bear it in mind.

lt won't be necessary. l'm not coming.

- Then l shall come with you.

- Come where with me?

To the ends of the earth,

if that's where you're going.

l'm going home, and that's half a mile.

Half a mile with you

is as 50 leagues with Cleopatra.

Milady...

Goodbye, poet.

Thank you for your rhyming.

My coach is ready, and we have to part.

Your coachman has abominable timing.

He mends your carriage

but breaks my heart.

Goodbye.

Don't speak. Don't say a word. l love you.

You look at me astonished.

You cannot be more surprised than l.

But...

l love you. Only you and you alone.

Do you believe a word l say?

Don't answer. l forgive your disbelief.

My own ears find it hard enough to believe

what my lips are telling you.

One thing alone is clear.

You can't ride into my life and out again...

without my knowing who you are, where

you come from, or where you're going to.

Where are you going to, by the way?

Don't answer.

Let me read it in your hand.

Your line of lunar...

Your line of lunar indicates

that you are going home...

to visit your mother.

My father.

lt's his birthday.

Why, yes. How did you know?

lt's nothing. Nothing at all.

No, it's amazing. Please, go on.

With pleasure.

Your Ring of Solomon tells me...

that you are the daughter of a count.

Why, it's true.

And...

in the far right-hand corner

of your coat of arms...

you have a four-leaf clover

on a cloth of gold.

lncredible!

And on the scroll across the center...

l can almost see your name.

- Almost?

- lt's becoming clearer every minute.

Tell me my name.

lt's...

Yes.

Gavrillac.

Why, it is! lt's Gavrillac.

My father's the Count de Gavrillac.

You don't look well.

No, l'm sorry, but forgive me. l must go.

No! You'll kill yourself!

Maybe that's the only practical solution.

That's better.

We're almost there now.

Look. There's my father's house.

We're home.

You must come in and rest a minute.

l know my father

will be happy to meet you.

How strange is the human heart.

ln life, we never met, my father and l.

No spark of love,

no hint of emotion between us.

Yet, l look upon his face in death...

and l'm moved to tears.

Poor Andre.

No. Not poor Andre. Never poor Andre.

lf he finds and loses a father,

falls in love with a maid...

then discovers the maid is his sister,

all in the space of an hour, what of it?

Andre, what did she say

when you told her?

l told her nothing, nor shall l.

The old man kept his secret secure

during his lifetime.

Let him take it with him to heaven.

l'll not betray him.

Won't you see her again?

l'd like her to know

that she's not alone in her grief.

l'd like you to know that, too, Andre.

Here's to you, my hothead...

so eager to solve at a blow

the dilemma of living.

l doubt if there is a solution,

but should it exist...

by heaven, we'll find it.

- Together.

- Together.

- You there, innkeeper!

- Coming, sir.

How much longer?

Milord is getting impatient.

Five minutes, sir. Possibly ten.

A quarter of an hour at the most.

- Tell the idiot to hurry.

- Thank you.

Two hours to shoe a horse. Still not ready.

You know, he's good this Marcus Brutus.

Listen to this:

"The grip of the aristocratic tyrants

is on all things living...

"crushing them underfoot

like grapes in the wine press."

- Treason.

- "l warn them.

"The people will make

an end of this canker of privilege."

Fellow has a dangerous gift of eloquence.

lt's my men returning.

Tell them to make less noise.

That horse in the yard, the gray, it's yours.

- Yes.

- Your name is de Valmorin?

Philippe de Valmorin from Paris...

who's been writing and preaching treason

all over the city.

His name's Pierre Duval from Limoges on

his way to Rouen to inspect a cathedral.

- l'm not talking to you.

- l'm talking to you.

- We're architects from the south.

- You're the traitors we're looking for.

No, not him. He had no part in it.

- No part in what?

- No part in anything treasonable.

- Come on. We're late. lf you'll excuse us.

- Seize them!

- You're under arrest.

- One moment, Chabrillaine.

- ls something the matter?

- These are the men, milord.

This man calls himself Marcus Brutus.

His real name is de Valmorin.

- His name is Pierre Duval.

- Silence!

Why, Duval...

how delightful to see you again after,

how long is it? Nearly five years.

Forgive me

for not recognizing you sooner...

but you were only a boy when we last met

and now you're a man.

How is your dear mother?

- She's well, sir.

- And your father?

He, too, is well, sir.

Tell me, does he still play Vazique?

Occasionally, l believe. Yes, sir.

Be good enough

to give him my kindest regards.

Sergeant. l fancy your men have a thirst.

Take them into the pump room

and quench it.

- Milord, l had no idea.

- A case of mistaken identity.

lnnkeeper, wine for my friends.

So they mistook you for Marcus Brutus.

Most interesting.

l'm deeply obliged to you

for your kind assistance, sir.

l would've done no less

for Marcus Brutus himself.

He had the gall to smuggle

a copy of his intolerable scribblings...

into Her Majesty's bedchamber.

l could hardly permit him

to fall into the hands of the law...

having promised myself

the pleasure of killing him personally.

Pierre, we must go.

We're expected at Rouen by nightfall.

Wait. The cathedral will not run away.

And the title used by Marcus Brutus:

"Liberty, Equality, Fraternity."

Liberty must be rationed among the few

with the talent to use it.

There's no such thing as equality.

Most men are born with the gutter

and are at home there.

As for fraternity,

a de Maynes is nobody's brother.

We stand alone at the head of the table...

and if ever our rights are challenged,

this is our answer.

l look forward to making it

to this Marcus Brutus...

when l catch up with him, but l doubt

he has the stomach for an encounter.

- The man is clearly a coward.

- A coward?

We're leaving.

A spineless upstart, who so far lacks

the courage of his own convictions...

that he dare not even sign them

with his name.

- Had he been born...

- A gentleman?

His race is as old,

his blood is as good as yours.

l hardly think so.

His sentiments

betray his lack of breeding...

the result of his unfortunate mother...

forming an attachment

for one of her husband's stableboys.

- De Maynes, consider l struck that blow.

- With pleasure.

But first, shall we step into the garden,

Marcus Brutus?

Or would you prefer to be run through

here and now?

l shall be happy to give you satisfaction.

Tell Father l didn't dishonor his sword

after all.

lf you've a shred of honor left,

you'll stop this fight. lt's murder.

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