All language subtitles for Episode 01

Do you think I like being
the Count of Monte Cristo?

He's a dreadful man, pitiless and cold.

1 didn't want to become that man.

I was happy just being Edmond Dantes.

I wanted nothing more in life,
but they prevented me.

Villefort... Morcerf,

Danglars and even
that worm, Caderousse,

who knew all
but said nothing.

By trying to kill the young sailor,
who asked for nothing,

they created the avenger
who returned for his dues.

Too bad for them.

THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO

- We're hungry!
- Stop whining like a baby,

or I'll really give you something
to whine about, understand?

I don't want your soup!
Don't bring any more. I don't want it!

I don't want to eat any more.
I want to die.

I want to diel
I want to diel

Don't be afraid.

Help me.

- Who are you?
- Abbé Faria.

And you?

I'm number 34.

But before, my name was Dantes.

Edmond Dantes.

How long have you been here?

I don't know. In the beginning
I counted the days, but...

But...I don't know any more.

It's February 11.

February 11...

Yes...

It's February.
That's why I'm so cold.

February.
But what year?

1833.

1833?

I've been here for 18 years.

18 years.

They took my sunlight away,

they stole my love,

my youth,

my future...

Edmond Dantes!

Edmond Dantes?

I have a warrant for your arrest

by Mr. de Villefort,
Crown Prosecutor.

In the name of the law, Dantes,
follow me.

My friends...

enjoy yourselves.
I'll be straight back.

Gently.

Gently.

This letter denouncing you is anonymous,
of course.

Do you know
what you are accused of?

Absolutely not, sir.

I can't see what harm
I could have done.

I've just returned from
a long trip to the East Indies

on the Pharaon,
one of Morrel's ships.

Where you served as first mate,
did you not?

Yes, sir.

What lead to you
taking command of the ship?

As I said in my last report,

the captain died of fever off the coast
of Gibraltar,

and...

I'm not accused
of murdering him?

No, of having disembarked
on the island of Elba.

Is that correct?

Yes, I did.
Was that wrong?

The ex-emperor Napoleon's aide gave you
a letter, did he not?

Yes.

Why?

Did you know contact
with the tyrant is prohibited?

I acted on the orders of the captain
of the Pharaon.

Before he died he made me swear
I'd fetch the letter.

- I was uneasy...
- Are you Bonapartist?

I'm just a sailor, nothing more.

I'm too often out of France
to be interested in politics.

How could I refuse
the wishes of a dying man,

the sole master, after God,

of the ship
on which I served?

Maritime law insists on strict obedience.

You defend yourself well.

I don't defend myself, sir.

The truth does.

I believe you, young man.

Come now.
It's quite obvious.

We're used to anonymous letters.

I get about ten a day.

Remove his chains.

Am I free?

Better. You are innocent.

Justice can only reproach
your compassion for a dying man

and your obedience
which is honorable.

Return now to your fiancée
and I to mine.

Today we both celebrate
our engagements.

What a coincidence.

All my best wishes, sir.

Our fiancées
may become good friends.

And unite to ruin us
at the same dressmaker.

Good-bye.

One more thing, Captain Dantes.

The letter from Elba.
Do you still have it?

Of course.

Here it is.

Did you read the name on it?
Do you recall the address?

Of course.
I was to deliver it personally.

A Mr. Noirtier...

13 Rue du Cog-Heron,
in Paris, I think.

"I'm preparing to flee Elba
and reclaim power in France.

To facilitate this
you are to eliminate

my most dangerous adversary.

You have my complete trust. Napoleon."

Edmond Dantes,
I must arrest you.

What? But you said...

Take him to the Chateau d'If.
Isolate him.

- You have no right!
- Not another word!

The accusations
are extremely serious.

You have no right!

Stop! Villefort!

Damn you, Villefort!

One day I'll find you
and kill you!

Villefort's reaction
and his sudden change of mind

was brought on by--

The name of the person to whom
I was to deliver the letter.

Noirtier.
Rue du Cog-Heron, Paris.

- The name means nothing to you?
- No.

I've sailed the coasts of Africa,
rounded the Cape of Good Hope,

I've put in at Colombo

and I've never been to Paris.

I don't know anyone.

Noirtier's full name
is Noirtier de Villefort,

the father of the prosecutor
who had you locked up.

I might add he's well-known
as a Bonapartist.

The letter you carried

probably compromised Villefort's father.

Yes, that makes sense.

That explains why they let me rot here
without giving me a trial.

But...

Napoleon is dead too.

These stories of a Bonapartist plot
are senseless.

For Villefort,
danger is everywhere.

If you appear in court,
you'll mention the letter.

To protect his father
and himself,

Villefort didn't hesitate
to sacrifice me,

to bury me alive.

- And the other letter.
- The anonymous letter.

Denouncing me
as the Emperor's messenger...

In this stinking hole,

I haven't stopped turning
the events in every direction.

It's hard for me
to face the facts...

but for me, today,

that letter

is no longer anonymous.

Don't be ashamed.

Jesus cried
when he was handed over.

Everyone thinks
they were tears of anguish.

The anguish of torture.

I wonder if it wasn't
because Judas had betrayed him.

Judas was a friend.
You know what he did.

But Jesus didn't take revenge.

No, because he was God
and he had his duty.

But you're a man.
You have rights.

We'll report his death
when we finish work.

That way the night round
can take him to the cemetery.

We'll put him in the bag
so the animals can't nibble him.

I've been searching
and I found it, Faria.

The most beautiful of treasures.

Faria.

Freedom...Faria.

Freedom. I found it.

He's very heavy for an old man
who was just skin and bones.

It's the ball.

We should have weighed him down
at the cemetery.

Is it you they're after?
I can hide you.

Then we could have some fun.

- What about it?
- I have no money.

They say I smell like the sea
and move like a mermaid.

Nice for sailors like you.

I have no money at all.

I don't cost much.

And there's a woman waiting for me.

Father! Open the door.
It's Edmond.

Please open up.
I'm in danger. Father!

I beg your pardon, madam.
Mr. Dantes isn't here?

Not for a long time.

Has he gone... elsewhere?

That's it. Gone elsewhere.

Far away?

Very far. He's dead.

They arrested his son
and threw him in prison.

So old Dantes died.
Of hunger.

Of hunger. He couldn't have.

He had friends.
Nobody could have abandoned him.

When he heard about his son,
he stopped eating.

- He just wanted to die.
- Impossible--

To go to his dear Edmond,
up there,

with God.

But Edmond Dantes wasn't dead.

It appears he was.

Many people enquired after him.
They said nobody knew anything.

And that's so long ago.
There's no point going over it.

You must be a seaman.

Show us your papers.

Of course.

- Hurry up.
- One moment.

Sorry. I've been asked for them
three times.

I don't remember where I put them.

What do you want with my grandson?

He's a good boy
who never hurt anyone.

Your grandson?

Without him, I'd have been dead long ago.

It might be for the better.

You mustn't say
things like that, madam.

Our apologies.
We didn't know.

We're looking for an escapee.

You won't find him here.
All we hide is our poverty.

Thank you.

May I ask why you did that?

I don't know who you are.
I'd rather not know.

I did it because, just before...

you respected the memory
of poor old Mr. Dantes.

Ave Maria.

I'm looking for
Senorita Mercedes.

I knocked at her door
but nobody's there.

You must know her.

Mercedes Igualada,
daughter of Feliu and Rosada.

She's Catalan.

Have you been living on the moon?

She's been gone for almost 20 years.

Gone?

Gone, but where?

Paris was mentioned.
I think so, at least.

She didn't return.

And Fernand Mondego?

Her cousin...
He might know where she is.

Fernand Mondego? He's gone too.
He joined the army.

Well, my good man...

Eating wheat like a rat.

What boat are you on?

No boat.

That is,
I was on a sailing ship,

on the island of Malta,
but we were shipwrecked.

These things happen.

The Jeune-Amelie
is a good, sturdy boat.

I'm a good boss
who keeps his promises.

Is that an offer?

One of my men was arrested for fighting.

And I have a meeting
off the coast tonight

and with this wind...

It's a small crew
and I could do with a hand.

Contraband?

Mind your business
and I'll mind mine.

Is it yes?

Bound for where?

The coast of Italy.
That's all you need know.

The wind's astern, Captain.

We should set a square sail
to back us up.

- A square sail?
- Yes.

And slack off the jib.
Give it more slack.

Mediterranean bass
with herbs of Provence,

stuffed with minced scampi
and sea urchins,

all grilled over sticks of fennel,

with aniseed liqueur flambé

and layered with a tomato veloute
spiced with saffron.

That wretched Bertuccio
knows nothing of navigation,

but as chef, he's second to none.

Before embarking here
he was chef for Farlatti,

a rich Tuscan.

You know them.

Always imagining
they're being skinned, robbed,

or tricked.

- Your chef's a thief?
- And you, who are you?

Look-out reports
a beacon to starboard, Captain.

Steady?

No, blinking.
Here one minute, gone the next.

That's the signal.

All on deck.
Turkish tobacco smells good.

Isn't that Monte Cristo Island?

An island, you say?

That's a big name
for a bit of rock.

Can you leave me there?

Leave you on Monte Cristo?

We pass within a cable's length.
It's not too out of your way.

I don't want to lose
a good sailor like you.

And you'd be crazy to leave now.

Until I've sold the tobacco in Italy...

how can I pay you?

All I want
is to disembark on that island

and to be picked up
on your way back in a week or so.

What would a man like you
do on that rock?

When Lazarus arose from his tomb,
nobody asked questions.

One must respect the silence
of the dead, Captain.

May God forgive me for turning his Son
into a knife.

Here, this will give you strength.

No, leave it. It's too late.

But before I go,
I want to give you something.

To reveal a secret
nobody ever believed.

But you will,

as you believe in God.

Do I believe in God?

It's like my secret.

Until you see it,
you have doubts.

Once you've seen it,
you'll be dazzled.

A treasure...

For I am rich, my boy.

Immensely rich.

Over there... An island.

An island?
What island do you speak of?

Monte Cristo.

The island of Monte Cristo.

It's surrounded by reefs.
I can't risk getting closer.

I'm a good swimmer.

- Good-bye.
- See you in eight days.

You're going to miss my cooking!

That's not all.

Don't you know who he is?

Didn't you hear
the Chateau d'lf cannon?

Maybe. So?

An escapee can be bartered like tobacco.
Even better.

That's why I planned to keep him
on board

but that was a bad plan.

He could have run off
in Italy, whereas, now...

he can't escape from Monte Cristo

But in Italy
I'm wanted by the police.

Don't worry, you're not
even worth a noose.

But he's another story.

Chateau d'If prisoners
are not lowly scum.

They're the cream.

A cave.

Faria...

Guide me.
Give me a sign.

A sign. I'll do the rest.

Don't abandon me.

Show me it.

Faria...

This treasure belonged to Count Spada,

who was poisoned by Cesar Borgic.

Help me.

I'm a descendant of the Spadas.

The treasure was too well hidden,
even for a Borgia.

Poor old man.

He didn't know what he was saying.

It's normal.

I was delirious too.

After all...

what would I have done
with that treasure?

Eh, Faria?

My dear Faria.

What would I have done
with that treasure?

A cave. There are stones
buried in the night.

But you--
You tear them away from the night.

You will make them shine...

brighter than the sun.

They'll be yours. All yours.

Are you really sure?

It's that one.

Are you sure it's Monte Cristo?

Sirl

Sir, it's Bertucciol

Sirl

Don't hide.

Don't hide.
I came to save your life. Sir!

Save my life?

What are you saying, Bertuccio?

I swear it's the truth.

The captain wants to turn you in
to the authorities for the reward.

So now you plan to get
the reward?

How many are you?

- No. you're mistaken!
- Don't come any closer!

Don't come closer.

You can see I'm alone.

Apart from the fisherman, Jeppe,
who brought me here.

Tell Jeppe to disembark.

I'll take his boat
and you can be my sailor.

He earns his crust with his boat.
He's a poor man.

Nol

Here. Now he's a rich man.

Why didn't you want to take old Jeppe?

With two against one,
you could have got rid of me.

- I know who you are.
- Who am I?

A cook who hasn't even got a knife.

A thief who robbed his master.

Don't worry, you won't get me.

You seemed obsessed with the idea
of being attacked. Why?

Do you have some fortune hidden in there?

Anyway, don't try to be mysterious.
Your story is clear.

Why does a prisoner who's just escaped
come to a desert island?

For the nice loot he carefully hid
before being arrested.

It's not loot, it's an inheritance.

And you just gave yourself away.

You came back out of greed
and not out of kindness.

You haven't got a knife but I have
and I can use it.

Go back to the sails.

There you're mistaken.

And even if your chest is full of diamonds
as big as Jeppe,

I'm not interested
in the slightest.

Bertuccio's word!

All I ask is
for you to take me as your servant.

I don't need anybody.

We're not headed
for the French coast.

Well spotted.
We're going to Italy.

Do forgive me,

however, I'm not sure
I understand.

For whom do you work?

Well, sir, I have the honor
of being my own master

and to live off my fortune.

And you...

claim to be
in a position to acquire...

Fifty-one percent
of your bank's capital, yes, sir.

Why fifty-one percent?

To be at liberty to act
as I please...

following the thread
of inspiration, understand?

No...he doesn't see.

I'm sorry, but I think this joke
has gone on long enough.

- Listen, my friend...
- Count.

Pardon?

"My friend" is not disagreeable
but you should say "Count."

- Count?
- Yes.

The Count of Monte Cristo.

- And that's you?
- It's me.

Sir, I don't wish to be unpleasant
but I happen to be in a hurry.

So if you don't wish to do business,
be kind enough to say so now.

- I shall go elsewhere.
- Elsewhere...

To buy another bank?

Please excuse me.

Before our meeting, I left a chest
in this establishment's vault.

- I authorize you to have it opened.
- It's done.

Have the contents of this gentleman's trunk
been examined?

- Yes, sir. It's just that...
- Just what?

There's a lot of money, gold,
jewelry and necklaces...

Thank you. Leave us.

What I have just heard
is extraordinary.

Quite simply, stupefying.

How is it that we have never heard of...

Monte Cristo?

That is because I almost never leave
my castle.

Your castle?

Of course. It must be splendid, I imagine.
Where is it?

Well... On an island.
Over there. In the East.

Might I know, Count,

what great honor brought you
to choose our establishment?

Does not Morrel, the ship owner
from Marseille, bank with you?

Well, for me, that is a reference.

It would seem that Mr. Morrel

has been the victim of a series
of unfortunate circumstances lately.

He has lost quite a few ships.

There's only one left,
the Pharaon.

It should set sail within the next few days
for the East Indies.

The future,

or more realistically I should say,
the survival of Morrel and Son

depends entirely on the success
of this voyage.

A long voyage, Count,
which will take a whole year.

During which you wish to suspend
the credit extended to Morrel.

That seems very imprudent, Count.

The greatest imprudence, dear sir...

is to question my orders.

- Quickly, to Marseille!
- Yes.

Good-bye, Sir.

Abbé Busoni...

What can I do for you,
good woman?

I didn't want to trouble you
while you were moving in.

Restoring this poor house
has given you a lot of work.

Nothing is too hard
with God's help.

My poor old legs won't carry me
to the church

and I long to confess.

You absolve me?
I've not confessed yet.

"What is done to the smallest among you
is done unto Me."

The Lord's words.

It was God who had a debt
owed to you.

It worked, Bertuccio.
The old lady was overwhelmed.

She wanted me to hear
her confession.

That may be the last time I say
"I forgive you."

This Abbé Busoni...

needs some more work.

The nose is all right.
The voice, almost.

There's something missing
in the look.

Notice I tell you everything, don't I?

Perhaps too much.

I hope I'm right in trusting you.

After all, you're just another chicken thief
due for prison.

Or penal servitude.

So don't think to betray me
or my revenge will be...

Dreadful. I know.

Let me tell you something.

If you want to live
among free men again

you must learn to give your trust.

To me at least.
Without second thoughts.

I'll confess something

to prove your trust
is well-placed.

To place myself at your mercy
I'll tell you my name.

The man the police want is called Visvoli.

My real name
is Benedetto Francesco Viscoli.

Thank you, Bertuccio.

I suppose you expect me
to do the same for you.

I'm a cook who hides his recipes,

you have the right to be a master
who keeps his secrets.

Let's say I give you something like credit.

When you ask I'll tell you
who the Count of Monte Cristo is.

God be with you.

My good man, how far
to the Pont du Gard Inn?

Not quite a league, Father.

But if I were you,
I wouldn't stay there.

Why's that?

I don't like slander,
but the innkeeper and his maidservant

are scoundrels, they say.

- You're rather excited.
- Someone important is coming.

I'm the Abbé Busoni.

You're Caderousse, aren't you?

- You know me?
- By reputation.

You once had the La Posada Inn,

near the Catalan village?

Yes, Father. But I preferred
to leave Marseille.

Yes.

It's a dangerous town, isn't it?

Where it's easy to fall into bad company.

Well, Carcontel
Can't you see the Abbé is starving?

What would the Abbé care for?
Some excellent wine from Beaucaire?

With pleasure, Mr. Caderousse.
Take a seat.

However, I didn't come here
for your food or your wine.

Then why?

For your memory, Mr. Caderousse.

Do you remember knowing
one Edmond Dantes?

- Edmond Dantes, you say?
- Yes.

If I knew Edmond Dantes?

Yes, a little.

He used to come to La Posada
for a nice glass of Bandol.

But I've not seen him for ages.

And you won't,
given that he's dead.

He's dead?

I brought him religious succor
and heard his final confession.

"De profundis," as you people say.

I'm sure he didn't
have much to confess.

A better man
never walked the earth.

I see you liked him.

He liked you too, Caderousse.

Before the end,

he begged me to find
the only true friends he had...

who he had never ceased
to hold close to his heart.

Fernand Mondego,
Eugene Danglars and you,

my dear Caderousse.

Why find us, since he is dead?

To make your fortune.

What do you mean, "fortune"?

Don't ask me
how he came by this diamond.

It's a confessional secret,

but the fact is, this stone is valued
at 50,000 francs.

Dantes asked me to distribute
the money from its sale

among his friends,
including you, dear Caderousse.

Evenly divided into three shares,
it is a considerable sum.

Undoubtedly, Monsieur.
Undoubtedly.

Maybe one should think twice
about sharing it.

But of course...

he couldn't have known.

Known what?

Fernand Mondego, Eugene Danglars,

who Dantes thought his friends...

Then you'll accuse me
of slander, Monsieur.

Speak out, my friend.
You can speak.

It's because of them
he was arrested.

They wrote the letter
that sent him to prison.

Well, well.

You know a great deal,
Mr. Caderousse.

You know,
when you're serving people,

you can't help
hearing what they say.

But I had nothing to do
with their dirty plot.

You can see for yourself.

I'm still poor.

- And them?
- Them, Monsieur?

You'd think there's no justice here below.

They didn't hang around after Dantes
was arrested.

Danglars went to Paris and amassed millions.
He founded a bank.

- He was even made a Baron.
- A Baron, him?

Fernand did better.

He joined the army and served
in Greece under a certain Ali Pasha

who made him a general
and gave him a fortune.

He also lives in Paris now,

under the name Count de Morcerf.

He's a peer of France.

- I see.
- I hope you see

that it wouldn't be fair
to share the diamond with them.

They don't deserve it.

It's not like me
and my poor servant.

Are you feeling unwell, Abbé?

No, I'm all right.

I'm all right
but I'll be on my way.

How much do I owe you?

Nothing, nothing at all.

You bring me a 50,000
franc diamond. I won't ask you to pay.

The diamond is Edmond Dantes.

It's Abbé Busoni who drank your wine
and ate your chicken.

That's 2 francs 40.

Here's three francs. Keep it all.

Edmond Dantes had friends,
or so he thought,

but he also had a true love.

Mercedes Igualada.

A beautiful girl.

She's left Marseille, I was told.

Of course,
because she married Fernand.

She's now Countess de Morcerf.

Good-bye, Caderousse.

Good-bye, madam.

Bolt the door,

in case he regrets
having left me the stone.

Left "us" the stone.

I'm not a traitor to man or God.

So I've come to warn you:

If you didn't see fit to exercise divine justice,
I'll see to it.

My way.

It shall be merciless...
and devastating.

I am Brother Barnabe

of the Order of Saint Francis.

I live a hermit's life
up there in the hills

and this chapel is my oratory.

I'm surprised that a priest
with such a beautiful horse

should stop
in such a poverty-stricken place

to seek God.

I do not seek God, Father Barnabe.

I came to warn Him
that I am replacing Him.

For repairs to your door.

Pray for me.

At last! I was starting to worry

and not just because of dinner,
which almost burnt,

but it would be a pity
as I've made a fine meal.

Tomatoes with anchovies,
seafood spaghetti--

Today I spent 50,300
francs on a meal

which ruined my appetite
for the next few days.

And we've no time to eat.
We're leaving.

- Again! Where for?
- The East.

I need to learn.
Abbé Faria taught me nothing.

- He was too kind.
- What will you learn in the East?

Refinement, Bertuccio,
All aspects of refinement.

Especially refinement in revenge.

MARSEILLE, ONE YEAR LATER

What is it, Maximilien?

It could be it, Father.
It could be the Pharaon.

It could be, but it's not sure.

It must be.
It has to be.

May God hear you.

If the Pharaon and its cargo have been
swallowed up,

bankruptcy is inevitable.

To think you made me wear that "cake"
on my head all this time!

You must be in a hurry
to change, too.

Yes, and quickly.
I have an appointment.

Who do you want to be now?
The Count of Monte Cristo, Abbé Busoni,

Doktor Malzenstein, Lord Wilmore, who?

Lord Wilmore.

Will that pass for an English nose?

I learned to know the English
while sailing on the Pharaon.

For them, their ships
are more impressive than ours,

their Empire, bigger than our kingdom,
so why not their noses?

- And your Turks?
- What about them?

Who am 1? Aladdin?

How do I maintain the caravansary you drag
around in this tiny space?

You're right. Buy some storage.
Don't worry about the cost.

Something big and beautiful.
Even sumptuous.

What do you mean, sumptuous?
These men are only slaves.

No longer, because I bought them.

Those in my service must be treated
as well as I treat myself.

Come in.

It must be to announce
the arrival of the Pharaon.

Mr. Morrel,
there's a Lord Wilmore here.

He wants to see you.
He said he is from the bank.

Yes, it's Thomson & French.
That was inevitable.

Show him in.

This meeting promises to be tricky.

I have several loans at that bank
which have fallen due.

It's quite a great deal of money.

Unfortunately,
our coffers are empty.

Father, you mustn't despair.

For, if it is the Pharaon approaching...

For, if it is the Pharaon approaching...

Li

Mr. Morrel.

The bank, Thomson & French,
with whom you do business--

I don't wish to be discourteous
by interrupting you

but I imagine this meeting
is as painful for you as it is for me.

- So, with your permission, let's be brief.
- As you wish.

I have here a statement
of our accounts.

First we have a series of loans
signed by you for 200,000 francs.

They were suspended for a year

but now they have fallen due.

And we should add 32,500 francs
at the end of this month

and for the end of next month,
approximately 55,000 francs.

That's it. Exactly.

Therefore, as you are not questioning
the amount you owe,

how do you intend paying them?

I must say the bank is worried.

I've always honored my signature.

I know there's a rumor
in Marseille that Morrel and Son

is incapable of meeting
its debts,

but as soon as the Pharaon's
arrival is announced--

I came to Marseille on board the Luxor,

which was carrying the survivors
of the Pharaon.

The Pharaon no longer exists, Mr. Morrel.

Maximilien, my son,

run to the harbor.

Go and comfort our poor sailors.
Bring them here.

I'll see them
once I have finished this.

Straight away, Father.

How many survivors?

All the crew of the Pharaon were saved.

Thank you, my lord.
That's the main thing.

Rumor has it you have never lost
a crew member. Is it true?

No, it's false.
I lost a captain, but...

That's history.
I was inconsolable.

On which ship did he perish?

He wasn't aboard a ship.
He was swallowed up

by something unnameable.

I never understood.

And to...

honor his memory,
I can tell you his name.

His name was...Edmond Dantes.

Dantes.

Dantes, you say?

The young man whose poor father
you so generously helped

until his death?

- Generously, my lord?
- Well...

That's what they say.

I'm so sorry about
the Pharaon.

What is it to you?
What's a ship to bankers?

Figures, the value of the cargo.

You cannot understand.

The Pharaon was the finest,
the oldest of our ships

and now Morrel and Son
will sink as well.

I know what you want
from my father.

What do you do with all the money?

With it, we build ships, undertake voyages,
make men free.

It becomes curry, vanilla, silk, indigo.
We build dreams.

Our money flies on the wind.

It travels the seas.

What you say is rather lovely.

Go on, laugh at me.

Might I inform you, young man,
that the Thomson & French bank

has just given your father
three month's grace

in which to honor his debts?

After that period,

I will have the pleasure
of meeting you,

here, at midday,

on the dot.

In three months the situation
will be the same, if not worse,

save for a miracle.

Thank you for that small reprieve,
all the same.

It is a privilege to know the day
and the hour of one's death.

A good coach, Bertuccio, good.

But when we're next in Italy,
procure horses that are them same color.

Refinement, Bertuccio, refinement!

Are we returning to Italy?

Tomorrow at dawn.
We'll travel day and night.

Are not the best boat builders to be found
in your country?

Certainly, but we have
the best police, too.

I hope you're not having
a boat built. I don't understand.

In order to triumph over time, Bertuccio.

This is exactly what I expected from you.

One or two details.

The poop deck is too raised.
It spoils the line.

The deck houses are too big.

As for this ridiculous...

rail of banisters--

Ridiculous?

Too ostentatious.

To my mind, sir,
a three-master is not a dress ship.

Now to essentials. What wood will you use
for the decking?

One always uses pine.

I want white beech.

Let's use pine for the hull planks,
on an oak frame, of course,

lined with copper.

I think it will need about
100,000 rivets.

It would appear you've spent your life,
my lord,

building ships.

There was one I loved.

I knew her by heart.

From the keel
to the truck of the masts.

Some nights I have rebuilt it, rib after rib.

It's a mental exercise like any other,
to stay sane.

Let's discuss the delivery date.

My lord, three months seems
very little time to enable me to--

When you no longer have a day
or an hour more,

double, triple, quadruple
your teams.

I'll pay the cost.

My lord, a fortune gives one certain rights--

My rights don't come
from my fortune,

but my misfortune.

White beech,
an oak frame lined with copper...

Are you the Count of Monte Cristo?

At your service, sir.
Very well.

My dear architect,
I'm counting on you. Sir.

- At your service.
- Viscount Albert of Morcerf,

and it is I who am at your service,
my lord.

- What name did you say?
- Morcerf.

I am the son of General Fernand,
Count de Montcerf.

Peer of France.

In that case, your mother is...

The Countess of Morcerf, yes.

Mercedes de Mortcerf?

Do you know her?

You seem troubled.

No. I--

It's the Italian sun.

This terrible torpor.

The heat is unbearable.
Would you care for a cool drink?

I confess I wished to meet you
to ask you a favor.

- You're not drinking?
- Yes, yes.

Here is why I wanted to see you.
Have you heard about an execution?

Pardon?

There's an execution in two days.

Rocca Priori, nicknamed Peppino,
will be put to death

for belonging to the gang
of Luigi Vampa,

one of the most famous Italian bandits.

I don't see how that concerns you.

I heard the Italians have strange methods
of execution.

As I took this journey to discover Italy
and its customs,

I must see this.

Alas, I left it too late
to get seats.

But Mr. Pastrini,
the manager of this place,

said the Count of Monte Cristo
would not be so remiss,

that you would invite me
to the balcony

you rented for the spectacle.

Spectacle?

A man's death is a spectacle?

It's punishing a bandit.

Punishment is an awful word,
young man.

Don't use it as if you were talking
about opera.

I don't understand you.
Is justice--

It can be mistaken.

When it is, it becomes
something totally vile,

totally loathsome.

It brings shame
on those who dispense it.

And I have no balcony.

Who is it?

It's me, sir. Bertuccio.

- Something on fire?
- Worse.

A terrible thing, sir.

Mr. Pastrini just rushed
to offer a candle to Saint Rita,

the saint of desperate causes.

Only she can save the boy.

- Her or youl!
- What are you talking about?

The Viscount of Morcerf.
He's been kidnapped.

Kidnapped?
What do you mean?

Luigi Vampa, the bandit did it.
He's asking an outrageous ransom.

Otherwise he'll have
the poor boy's throat cut.

Do you want to know how much?

He's greedy, this Vampa.

There's no need for panic.

Let Mr. Pastrini advance the money,
the Morcerfs can reimburse him.

Mr. Pastrini doesn't have that amount.

Let me sleep.
I hate anything to do with money.

But you can do something.
You have the money.

You came to ask me that?

I was sure you'd agree.

Well, no, the Count of Monte Cristo
does not agree.

Sorry, but I wouldn't spend a farthing
for a Morcerf.

Moreover, I've a good mind
to have you bring me

some ink, a pen and paper

to give myself the satisfaction
of personally informing Morcerf

that he just lost his son.

How can you say
something so dreadful?

It's unthinkable.

I can't believe you'd do that.

Me too, Bertuccio.

There are some things I couldn't believe.
But they were true.

Dear Fernand will learn what it is
to lose a son.

What my poor father suffered
so much so that it killed me,

he will suffer himself.

Bring some wine. I want to drink
to Luigi Vampa's health.

Can you rejoice over such horror?

I'm rejoicing over God's justice.

The boy is innocent.

What if they cut his throat?

Young Albert wanted to see torture.
He'll have a ringside seat.

- Nol!
- What, no?

Not you...and not that.

Quiet. You don't understand.

- And his mother?
- Let's talk about her!

Don't worry about her.
She recovers quickly.

She only took a few months
to overcome grief before.

- So you know this unfortunate lady?
- No.

Yes, sir.

Yes, you do know her.

And she made you suffer.

That's why you're rejoicing
that she will suffer now.

I can't deny it.

There.

You want revenge. Then take it.

But not by abandoning an innocent
who wasn't even born

when you confronted such tragedy.

I was innocent, too.

Precisely.

Since you remember
all you suffered,

you mustn't let injustice
strike another innocent.

You want me to save
Albert de Morcerf?

I do. I insist.

You insist?

You dare to insist?

In the name of what?

In the name of the debt
you owe me.

You'd forgotten that one.

I haven't.

You said I had credit with you.

That was to tell you my story,
reveal my real name.

I don't care who you are.

It's what you are I need to know.
And you're a good man.

How did you come up with that?

I have a brain. I think.

Do you want to know why you spend
a fortune to build a ship?

Because I was a sailor
and I love boats.

No, you'll never set foot
on that boat.

I know what and who it is for.

You're a fearsome creditor, Bertuccio.

Very well, you win.

I will settle my debt.

Are you saying you'll pay
Morcerf's ransom?

No, I shan't pay the ransom.

Seeing that I can't have revenge,
let me at least have some fun.

Run and drag Mr. Pastrini
away from his prayers

and tell him that I want
to meet Luigi Vampa before dawn.

- Your old self!
- One more thing.

By tomorrow find out everything you can
about the judge

who sentenced one of Vampa's men.

Good evening, Mr. Vampa.

I do thank you for meeting me.

Make your men move away.

Tell them yourself, Mr. Vampa.

All right.

Have you got the money?

No. As you can see,
I came empty-handed.

You know what that means?
The execution of Albert de Morcer.

I think not.

Who is going to stop me?

Rocca Priori, known as Peppino.

He's a friend of yours, I believe.

What does his death
have to do with you?

I can stop it.

Grab him from the executioner?

It's impossible.
There will be soldiers everywhere.

I will get a pardon for Peppino
in exchange for the Viscount's life.

One life for another.

That's honest, isn't it?

A deal, Mr. Vampa?

Are you sure of your information?

Before an execution,
the judge always goes to the opera.

To each his own way
of easing his conscience.

You'll see the gallant way
he's spending the night.

His Excellency, Judge Simonetti?

My dear child,

I'm not asking for much.

If I begged you to make love to me,
I'd understand your refusal

but all I ask is to...

To kiss my feet?

Lick them, more precisely.
Bathe them slowly, adoringly.

And were I to perform
that humble service badly,

I would not mind you
punishing me with a whip.

Be silent. You disgust me.

Come now.
I don't understand you, my sweet.

Only I shall be humiliated,
punished and condemned,

and so happy to be so.

Little fool.

May I speak to you
about a matter, Judge?

No, I'm sorry, sir.
Not this evening.

Everything's atrocious this evening.

The orchestra, the soprano, the chorus...

And above all, that little goose?

You see, Judge,

when one asks a young lady to give strange
and fascinating pleasure,

one must offer another form
of fascination in exchange.

And, these days,
what fascinates young ladies

is this.

It is magnificent.

I'm happy it pleases you.
It is yours.

Mine? Why?
Who are you?

Come. I will explain.

In fact, Judge,
this is about trade.

A trade, sir?

This ruby for the pardon
of a man called Peppino.

This ruby which will earn you the gratitude

of that charming child
with the delicately arched feet.

Be quiet.
Who do you think I am?

An easily corrupted judge?

I do not wish to corrupt you.

Just to help you satisfy a desire.

A very innocent desire, well,
compared to so many others.

I truly wonder why
I don't have you arrested.

Passion, Judge.
Passion is stopping you.

You love young women making you suffer,
humiliating you.

Why not, although
I don't care for it myself.

In my case, one woman
made me suffer

and men have humiliated me.

All this has left me
feeling helpless.

But we all have our dreams
and I am wary of judging yours.

Wait.

I'd have this diamond mounted
as a pendant.

A diamond is so pure
on a young bosom.

As for the ruby and the emerald,
the young lady will use them well.

Geese are not
as stupid as they seem.

This torture is called
a "mazzolata."

It's uniquely Italian.

See that club?

The executioner will use it
to crush Peppino's skull.

Then he'll slit his throat with the knife.

Finally, he'll trample his belly
to expel the blood.

How brutal!

Be reassured, this is the last time
they'll perform a "mazzolata."

Henceforth, the Italians
will be civilized.

They'll only cut off heads.

This is a message for the officer.

"By order of his Excellency,
Judge Simonetti,

pardon from the death sentence
has been bestowed upon

Rocca Priori, known as Peppino."

My dear Viscount...

after all that,
you couldn't see your "mazzolata."

- I hope you're not too disappointed.
- Sir, my father,

my dear mother and I--

mostly me, we are--

You are alive.

It's nice weather.
Italy is a charming country. Enjoy it.

Until next time, Viscount.

MARCH

Calm down, Maximilien.
Calm down.

We must have a talk.

The Englishman said midday.
It's 11.30. How can I be calm?

Your restlessness
won't change anything.

Lord Wilmore will be here
at midday. And I...

No, Father. Don't do it.

Not over money!

Don't worry.
I shan't harm Lord Wilmore.

So it's you who...

Yes.

Give me that!
That man is not important.

He's just a bank.
One doesn't die for a bank.

What I owe Thomson & French...
won't ruin them.

For them, my debt is probably
a drop in the ocean.

See? Think of me.

I'm only thinking of you.

Of your future.

Of your chances
of gaining the trust of investors

who will help you found
a new company.

But there's one thing
I don't want said about you--

"See that young Maximilien,

a man whose father couldn't even honor
his own signature.

Beware of that young Maximilien."

I don't care.
I won't be a ship owner. So what?

I'll become a sailor.

And sign the muster?

Your name is worthless.
Your father is disgraced.

Do you know what a signature is?

Do you know what it is?

It's the extension of a hand.

My hand is me.

And I am you.

Off you go.

Leave me alone. Go.

Let me do what I have to.

How can I leave you,
knowing that I will return to find you--

Asleep.

Gone to sleep a bit brutally, but...

just asleep.

You know,
I'm not afraid of sleep.

Sleep is good for you.

You'll see when you grow old too.

Every night I say that,

"Ah, to close my eyes...

at last."

To close my eyes.

I love you, my little boy.

I love you.

Off you go.

Leave me alone.
It will soon be midday.

Go on.

To Lord Wilmore, March 5th.

My lord, I am putting an end
to my days.

If you are the man I think you are,
you will understand.

My death will not pay what I owe,

but in committing this act,

people other than you

will call it flight and cowardice.

I'm paying myself.

I'm settling an account
with myself.

I am buying back my honor.

Are you the Morrel boy?

Maximilien Morrel.

I was told to give you this,
before midday.

- Who gave you this?
- A priest. A saintly man.

The Abbé Busoni.

Father, stop. Don't do it!

Look.

Look.

There's enough to cover our debt
and more.

I recognize this purse.
I know it.

It belongs to a priest, I think. Busoni.

No, you're mistaken.

It belonged to old Edmond Dantes.

I'd sometimes slip a few coins in
when I visited him.

Sometimes some notes
which weren't as noisy.

He had his pride, old Dantes.

Come in.

Lord Wilmore, sir.

Here I am, gentlemen,
as agreed.

Come in, my lord.
I'm very happy to see you.

Take a seat. I have something extraordinary
to tell you.

- It's a miracle. A miracle.
- You can now--

Honor my signature, my lord,
and more.

I'm not surprised.

With the Pharaon back,
that will change things for you.

Excuse me, my lord,
but you must be mistaken.

Mistaken? About what?

The Pharaon.

But you're the one
who knows my ship sank.

It was you who gave me the news
three months ago.

I am a man of finance, Mr. Morrel.

I'm used to hard numbers
and cold facts.

I can affirm that
I was on board the ship

which attended the final moments
of the Pharaon.

I was on the deck
of the Luxor.

I saw those poor men swim
with the energy of despair.

I saw the wild sea smash
and swallow up

what was left of
your ill-fated vessel.

If you have a Bible, Mr. Morrel,
give it to me.

I'm prepared to swear,
right hand on the sacred book,

that I saw the Pharaon disappear

into the depths of the sea.

But I am also ready to swear
before God that,

when I came here by way of the wharf,
a crowd cheered the same Pharaon

which, flying your colors,
sailed majestically

into Marseille harbor,
on its return from Italy.

Its holds are full of olive oil,
wheat grain,

citrus fruit, casks of wine,
Chianti, parmesan cheese--

That's impossible! It would be--

A miracle, Mr. Morrel. A miracle.

It's hard for me to believe it, but if the word
exists in our language,

it must describe a fact...

at least from time to time.

A miracle!

So, you had fun, didn't you?

Indeed, Bertuccio.
The illusion is perfect.

Our Pharaon is so like the old one,
even Morrel was taken in.

I find it still smells of fresh wood
from the Italian forests,

but to pick such details only a real sailor--

Like Edmond Dantes.

Dantes? Who is he?
Do you know him?

It's a name.
It just came to mind, like that.

If it just came like that,
make it go away as quickly.

It's done.
What name did I say? Valdes?

Bourges? Doubles?

It's awful having
such a bad memory.

Speaking of which...
I almost forgot to give it to you.

An invitation from young Viscount Albert
to lunch at the Morcerf's

21st June, for the first day of summer.

- Father, are you all right?
- It's nothing.

It's nothing.
It must be the emotion.

I'm happy.

I'm very happy.

And, if ships can rise
from the dead,

it's proof that God
really does exist.

And so do we.

No, Father! Nol

Father! Father!

Well, let's go to Paris.

Well, let's go to Paris.

Paris!