The Three Musketeers Page #5

I might find out|where Constance is.

But my Lady despises me.

She considers me a bore.

Oh, and worse, she is in love|with another man.

Desperately.

All she can think of is...|Where is he?

Why doesn't he come to see you?

I have made so little progress.

I have been introduced to her maid.

Don't tell me you are making out|with her maid.

Delicious, delicious.

No, no, my relation with Kitty,

it's only to intercept her|correspondence with this other man.

My God D'Artagnan. How can you be|mixed up with so many different women

and still be in love|with somebody else?

My poor freckled friends.

You'll never understand.

Wait, if all you do care about|is Constance,

why don't you deliver|this other man.

Surely the Countess confides|in him.

Excellent, excellent.

Except that|the other man unfortunately,

is a count De Wardes.

Whom I left in Port Calais|in very poor condition

with four swords through his body.

How can fate be so cruel!

Cruel faith.

Why don't you kiss me?

Kitty, my precious,|my beloved, my all...

Oh, you do not care about me.

All you care about is my mistress.

Well, she doesn't care about you.

This is the man she's in love with.

The count De Wardes.

Oh, I have to take that to him.

I have been taking letters|to his house for days now.

He never answers.

Well, of course he doesn't,|he is not at his house.

How do you know?

He is a good friend of mine.|Here, let's see what it said.

Oh, give it to me, give it to me.

Oh, I'm not...

My undying love, my...

Oh, you're right, Kitty.|She does love him.

My, my, why don't you|answer my letters?

Come to me. I beg...

I wonder...

Could I do it?

I want it! Please!|Give me the letter.

Kitty, this man De Wardes,

if she wants to find him, I must.

Oh Kitty, stop squealing,|I'm only trying to help you.

Look, you tell your mistress|you delivered the letter.

But I didn't.

Never mind that.

Tell her|the count begs forgiveness,

but he is in hiding.

He is in trouble with Richelieu.

It was through him that|monsieur D'Artagnan got to England

and that Richelieu has given out|an order for his arrest.

Is this true?

Well, more or less.|More or less.

And then tell your mistress|that the Count De Wardes will

call on her tonight at midnight.|Well, but on one condition.

That there is no light burning|anywhere in the house.

No lights?

Oh, but if he is recognized|by one person he is lost.

Tell her that he's afraid of|running into the terrible,

D'Artagnan.

Oh I don't understand, I...

I mean... suppose he doesn't come|and then she'll be angry with me.

Kitty, don't worry.

Didn't I say he will come;|he is a friend of mine.

Yes|But you said he was afraid.

Kitty, my darling,|my precious, my darling.

There, there, now run along.

And don't forget

Tonight at midnight.

And no lights!

Every light, Kitty. Hurry.

Yes, my Lady.|Oh, this is insane.

I could just as well pull|the drapes, no one could see.

Kitty, did he act insane?

No, my Lady.

Well, never mind. Every light.

If he doesn't come...

If you have made a mistake...

Kitty, the wine is warm|from the fire.

Take it. Chill it.

And the chocolate.|It's cold, warm it.

But there is no light in the house.|Do as I say!

Put out the light!

Monsieur D'Artagnan!

Where is my Lady?

In there.

Where is the count De Wardes?

Is the room dark?

There is a fire.|They're eatring by fire light.

A fire? But I said no light.

But it's only a little fire.|You can't see a thing.

You better be right about that.

Why i don't understand.

I don't understand one thing.

Uh. Kitty.

Now go in and announce me|as the count De Wardes.

The count...!

Come, come, Kitty.|This is no time for weak nerves.

Go, go, go.

The count De...

The count De Wardes.

Oh Constance, Constance.|Understand me.

This is just for|conversational purposes.

De Wardes.

De Wardes, at last.

At last. How sweet to see you.

Supper, how nice.

Never mind about supper.

A man grows hungry, my Lady.

Oh, kiss me. Kiss me.

As part of me|is going to be cremated,

sitting so close to the fire.

Are you going to kiss me|or aren't you?

Well...

Perhaps one little kiss.

I think I'll be wait...|better eat supper.

Wake up, Athos.

Athos, wake up.

Oh no.

Come on, Athos, wake up.

And help me to compose a letter.

You wake me up?

It is not even noon yet.

This is no hour|for composing letters

and looking happy.

Will you stop looking happy?

Oh Athos, we judged her unfairly.

How can I describe her?

Who? Her lips, her throat.

Who? Open your eyes,

so you can see|who you're talking about.

My Lady.

I can't describe her very well.|It was dark.

She even gave me a ring.

You carnival fellow

I resent your tone, Athos.

You have fallen in love.

I tell you we judged her unfairly.

You know. There is a certain|difficulty about this ring.

She gave it to me under the|impression that I was De Wardes.

A man wants to be loved|for himself and...

And that is why you got to help me|to compose some kind of letter.

Give me that ring.

What is it?

What's the matter, Athos?

I don't understand you.|That's a very beautiful ring.

Yes.

It once was mine.

Athos, this is a|cruel sort of joke.

There are things that|a man doesn't joke about.

I know that ring|if I found it in my grave.

It belonged to my family.

It was a wedding gift to my wife.

Your wife?

The countess De Winter.

Poor heaven, how could you play|such a hideous trick on me?

How could you play|such a trick on me?

On her shoulder, there is a brand.|A floury.

But of course,|she wouldn't do that.

Oh, this is monstrous.

What kind of|drunken fantasy is this?

My friend, believe me.|This woman is my wife.

I told you the story.|Of your friend.

No, no, of myself, of myself.

I lied.

I despise this woman.

She is evil, selfish.|She is death, she is poison.

You liar.

Why are you trying to|turn me against her?

What's your purpose?

The words proclaim your lie.

When you told me the story,|you told me you still loved her.

Are these the sentiments of a man

who still loves a woman?

Oh you drunken fool.

Because you hate,|all women must die?

Are you sure this is|the count's real handwriting?

Oh yes, I intercepted|that letter only today.

Aramis, you write with a fine hand.

My Lady, I find myself unable to|come to you again

this evening as promised.

Since my return from England

I have so many invitations of|this kind on my hands

that I am forced to|regulate them a little.

When your turn comes again,

I shall have the honor to|inform you of it.

I kiss your hands.

Now sign it De Wardes.

Well, she certainly can't be|too fond of De Wardes now.

But Aramis?

What's going to make her|fond of me?

You! Get out of my room!

Monsieur D'Artagnan.

He is waiting in the sitting room.

Get him out of the house.|Tell him I can't see...

No. No, wait.

Monsieur D'Artagnan,|a famous swordsman.

Kitty, prepare me.

Monsieur D'Artagnan?

How handsome you are.

My Lady, beside you,|I am a sparrow.

Charming.

Oh my Lady.

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