The Three Musketeers Page #2

again. Believe you dropped this.

This isn't mine.

I saw the lady hand this to you,

I'm not blind.

Are you implying that

I take money from this woman?

Are you saying that I cannot afford to pay

for my own wardrobe?

Do you know who I am?

No!

Then we're even.

You're in luck, boy.

Ordinarily, I would slaughter you on the

spot, but this is a brand-new jacket.

Cooper's Yard, St. Germain, 1:00.

I suggest you dress for a funeral!

What?

- Lottery!

- There you go.

Lottery ticket, sir?

Might be your lucky day!

What the hell?

Hey! Hey!

What is this?

Lt's a citation.

Lt's a ticket.

Failure to remove animal bowel movements

from public area.

French.

Your horse took a dump on the street.

You're joking.

That's what they all say.

You know what?

Cooper's Yard, St. Germain, 2:00.

Strange boy.

Milady de Winter!

Close game, Your Eminence.

- Hmm.

- Who's the opponent?

Myself. No one else proved to be

a sufficient challenge.

Hmm.

What news of England?

He's coming.

- Buckingham?

- Hmm.

And...

And?

He built it.

The war machine.

And he doesn't question your loyalty.

He thinks he's so cunning.

So evil.

Evil is just a point of view.

Ah!

Richelieu.

Is this lady the emissary from England?

Your Majesty is exceptionally alert.

So, madam,

what of Buckingham?

Majesty?

Well, what's he wearing these days?

Green, Your Majesty.

- Green?

- Hmm.

Very interesting.

And you had the gall to recommend blue?

Of course it should be green.

Why am I surrounded

by incompetent idiots?

Green, green, green!

Do I have to do everything myself?

Ah!

There you are. Shall we get to it?

So, are you eager

to meet your maker?

I have other appointments.

You'll miss them, I'm afraid.

Well, I'll try my best to be on time.

My seconds.

You!

You're fighting this rascal?

My appointments.

How long have you been in Paris?

- Arrived this morning.

- You have been busy.

Patience is not one of my virtues.

Well, neither are good manners.

Wait for your turn, old man.

What would you like me to put

on your headstone? "Little sh*t"?

D'Artagnan.

I'm Athos.

This is Porthos and Aramis.

The Three Musketeers.

I've heard of you.

From my father, a Musketeer himself.

In fact, I came to Paris to be one of you.

I'm afraid you're a little late.

What happened?

Oh, a bad mission. Budget cuts.

Cardinal, progress.

Take your pick.

Well, then, welcome to Paris.

Pity we'll have to kill you.

Well, if I can't become a Musketeer,

I might as well fight one.

Or three.

Kill him already.

Lt's lunchtime and I'm starving.

Halt!

Jussac.

Well, well, well.

How the mighty have fallen.

Dueling in defiance of the edicts?

You got tired of rolling peddlers

for spare change?

- Now...

- Seal the square!

Surrender your weapons

and come along with us.

Seal it off!

Unless, of course, you would rather resist.

New plan.

Kill the boy, kick their asses,

and then go get some lunch.

I could do with some exercise.

Seal it off, boys!

You were saying?

On the other hand,

discretion is the better part of valor.

You're the Musketeers.

Wrong.

We were the Musketeers.

Now we're just...us.

Rochefort.

Shall we?

Finish them off.

Let's even the odds.

Enjoying the show?

- You!

- Watch out!

You didn't

answer my question.

Are you always this cocky?

Only on Tuesdays

and whenever beautiful women are involved.

Damn you!

Can't you see

we're trying to have a conversation?

What is your name?

Constance.

Constance. Sounds very steadfast.

A quality you seem to know little about.

Oh, I beg to differ.

Deep down, I am a hopeless romantic.

Back for more?

Musketeers! Musketeers! Musketeers!

I'd forgotten what it feels like.

We all have.

The name is D'Artagnan.

You must come from a very small town.

How did you know?

Lines like yours

might actually work there.

This is Paris.

I suggest you stick to swordplay.

In the battle of wits,

you, sir, are unarmed.

She's right, lad.

The ladies of Paris

are infinitely more complicated.

They have 1,000 ways of saying, "No,"

and only some of them mean, "Yes."

I hate to ruin the mood,

but they will be back.

And unless you wish to

fight an entire army.

Elsewhere.

So, now what?

Do we pick up where we left off?

I think there's been enough fighting

for one day.

Besides, any man who's an enemy

of Rochefort is a friend of mine.

Who's Rochefort?

Captain of the Cardinal's guards.

The right hand of the most powerful man

in France.

Rochefort is the most feared swordsman

in Europe.

You certainly know how to pick your fights.

Like I said, he insulted my horse.

You're reckless,

arrogant, impetuous,

probably be dead by sundown,

but I like you, lad.

- Where are you staying?

- No idea.

Ah! Do you have any money?

Well, good sir,

you and your fine steed

are welcome in our humble home.

For the time being.

That goes in there.

Come on.

What shall we drink to?

How about the King?

He's a child. Cardinal rules in all

but name, might as well drink to him.

To France.

We served it, fought for it and bled for it.

Look where it got us.

Friendship? Love?

Word of advice, boy.

Trust no one.

Must be something you still believe in.

This.

And this.

Anyone who tells you otherwise is either

a fool or trying to sell you something.

I know Athos may seem cold and unfriendly,

but don't let it fool you.

- Deep down...

- He really is cold and unfriendly.

What happened to him?

What happens to any man, a woman.

You know, I don't want to offend anybody,

but I thought you'd all be

a little bit more...heroic.

What my esteemed colleague

was trying to say, in his own way,

is that we are obsolete.

We're warriors,

but there's no war for us to fight.

And so we drink and brawl

and quarrel with the Cardinal's guards

and then we drink some more.

What we need is a great cause.

But there are no great causes left.

Which is why I keep telling you it's not

too late to do that priest thing again.

Beats working for the city.

Free booze at wakes and weddings.

And then there's the nuns.

You were a priest?

Until I realized being a man of God

and a man of the cloth

aren't always the same thing.

And yet, he still says prayers

for those he kills.

- Old habit.

- On the contrary.

The men I kill deserve to die.

But they also deserve peace.

After all, they must have believed

in something.

We all do. Even the worst of us.

I'll drink to that!

Planchet! More wine!

Planchet!

Sorry, sirs.

I'm afraid

there's none left. You've drunk the lot.

What sort of answer's that?

Well, go get some more, man!

Very good, sir. It's just, I can't, sir.

We've run out of money.

Planchet, what are you?

- Complete and utter waste of space, sir?

- And?

- As much use as a fart in a bottle, sir?

- Right.

In short, sir, a total tit, sir.

But I can't work bleeding miracles!

Planchet?

Oh!

Thank you very much, sir!

That's incredibly generous

from such a handsome, young man.

Thank you very, very much.

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