All language subtitles for La Princesse de Cleves (1961) EN

The Princess of Cleves

Based on the novel by
Madame de La Fayette

The King !

Madame, since this
is your wedding ball...

...will you do me the honor
of opening it with me ?

Cleves, your wife is very beautiful
and very young.

- Are you happy ?
- Too happy.

Too beautiful and too young.

When the King fell in love with me
he was your wife's age, and I was...

- How old are you ?
- Forty.

You see ? His Majesty
and I are still happy.

And our love has remained just as fresh.

I'm sure that she's talking
about her age again.

Your Majesty must agree that
Diane de Poitiers does not look her age.

Lucky for her ; it's a heavy burden.

How can the King be fond of someone
who was his father's mistress...

... and of many others,
or so I've heard.

Why aren't you dancing,
my daughter-in-law ?

Because François
can't dance without feeling ill.

Look at us.

My son is too young...

I'm not young enough anymore...

And my husband's mistress is too old.

Charming family !

They're talking about us.

Why is the Dauphine not dancing ?

She's waiting for the Duke de Nemours.

Isn't her husband jealous ?

A husband of 15 is not a husband.

One can be jealous at any age.

Monsieur de Nemours turns every head.

Crowned heads turn
as quickly as the others.

Marie Stuart is 17.

Don't show your impatience so much.

My impatience ?

All balls are masked balls, my dear.

And everyone wears his mask.

Don't let yours drop.

Monsieur de Nemours will come.

Chartres, have you seen Nemours ?

No, Sire, and I'm a little worried.

Nemours is the last person to show
disrespect for Your Majesty by being late.

Love has its demands.

It's a sovereign before whom we all bow.

Do you know Nemours ?

It's hard for me to answer, Cousin.

I don't know anyone here.

I forgot.

It's hard to imagine a woman
who doesn't know Monsieur de Nemours.

What's he like ?

He's the sort ladies like.

You are alone, Madame. I challenge you.

The first person who comes in the door.

Ask him to dance.

The King has challenged me, my lord.
I invite you to dance.

Will you be my partner ?

Challenge met.

La Glorieuse.

Do you know each other ?

Sire, I am quite certain.

But Madame de Cleves has not
the same reason to know who I am...

... as I have to know her.

Cleves !

Counter-challenge.

It's up to you to introduce the dancers.

Madame, I think you're the only one here
who doesn't know the Duke de Nemours.

My wife, the Princess of Cleves.

Mr. Ambassador, admit that
I'm giving England a handsome King.

Sire, I'm sure of Monsieur de Nemours'
pride at marrying our Queen.

But has your Majesty informed him...

... that he must accompany me
to London in a week ?

My impatience equals yours, Ambassador.

Rest assured.

Well, Georges.

You may be happy ; it appears
the lady is wasting away.

The Ambassador just told me :
his Queen is impatient to see you.

She doesn't want to wait even a week.

Sire, I'm not fully
prepared for this journey.

I'm very sorry...

... but I will need 3 full weeks.

Georges, I've given my word.

I think you've exactly
captured our little Cleves.

It seems to me it would be difficult
for paint to equal the spectacle...

... of youth and grace
Madame de Cleves presents.

But I find the expression
a little severe.

Madame, I've not yet
added the brilliant light...

... that the Chinese painters
save for last.

We mustn't forget we are engaged
by the King at the tennis court.

Four-fifteen, Madame.

Until later, my dear.

Do you think, Monsieur, I could without
disrespect avoid the tennis match ?

Why ?

I'm a bit tired.

I'd prefer to be alone with you.

Your words should
make me the happiest of men.

And yet...

... the truth is I'm not.

It seems that you feel for me
only a sort of kindness.

Which can't satisfy me.

I don't know what you want
that I haven't done.

Am I not your wife ?

I recognize that the position
of husband gives me great privileges.

But not a place in your heart.

Do not doubt my love.

But perhaps it can't adjust to a world
where truth is so unappreciated.

Madame, forgive me
for tormenting you with words.

But if I insist that you accompany me...

... it's because I don't wish people
to think we've had a disagreement.

You're right.

There never could be.

Fifteen all !

You see, Mr. Ambassador,
here tennis is all the rage.

The King only cares about
youth and games.

We have 250 tennis matches,
just in Paris.

Do they play much in your land ?

I don't believe a game with balls
would have much chance in England.

I think not.

Thirty - fifteen !

- Thirty all !
- You'll see, Guise, we'll win !

The King is a great player, I suppose.

He's lousy.

He's a great player
since he never loses.

- Advantage.
- Georges, I think you did that on purpose !

- He sees everything.
- I do what I can.

Monsieur de Nemours even loses well.

He's marvellous, don't you think ?

Game !

Do you like tennis, Mr. Ambassador ?

I especially admire Your Majesty's play.

You're easy to please !

Nemours is so engrossed in
the game he doesn't even see us.

I'm surprised ; he only
has eyes for Your Highness.

True, I believe for a while
he was partial to me.

But for some time now, he appears to have
forgotten the things he said to me.

Sire, you are in such a state !
You should put on a coat--

Don't fuss, Madame !

Listen to her, Henri, she's right.

The Duchess is a mother to him.

Sire... Nemours.

There's one more game for me
to win. I'll speak to him soon.

I'd be very surprised
if Nemours leaves for England.

It seems that only
a Princess such as yourself...

... could make him forget
the Queen of England.

If it were me, I'd know.

But I know I'm not the reason for his
indifference to the crown of England.

I'm sure that Monsieur de Nemours
is passionately in love.

But he hides it.

I'm feeling rather tired.

Without your fatigue,
I wouldn't dare admit my own.

Let's leave then.
The King permits it at tennis.

Game !

Georges, you'll leave
day after tomorrow for England

Sire, I'll end by thinking
Your Majesty wants to get rid of me !

I'll end by thinking
you look down on my profession.

Why don't you want
to be King of England ?

Sire, the King of Spain is my rival.

You only need to show up.

And the tournament ?

Damn it, you're right ! I'd forgotten.

Your Majesty forgets
that I'm teamed up with you.

Gentlemen, tomorrow
we break a few lances.

We'll think only of the tournament.

So, Harry, are you going
to stay here forever ?

That's a message from the Queen.

Chartres, go present her my apologies
and tell her we're leaving at once.

The King sends me to offer his
apologies to the Queen for the delay.

- The carriages will leave in 5 minutes.
- Thank you, Monsieur.

We'll tell Her Majesty.

Chartres !

- Madame, the King apologizes--
- I know.

He's always late.

Listen, Chartres.

- I hate to be fooled.
- But I--

Don't defend yourself.

If you have a mistress...

If I find proof of it...

... you will pay dearly.

I swear to Your Majesty...

... I have no attachment
to any lady of the court.

I'll believe it, because I wish to.

And I wish to because I want you
entirely devoted to me.

I chose you to confide
all my sorrows and help ease them.

I appear not to suffer much pain...

... over the King's attachment
to Diane de Poitiers.

But it is intolerable.

She rules the King.

She deceives him.

She scorns me.

All my people are hers.

Marie Stuart shows me no respect.

Until now I've not dared to trust anyone.

I trust you.

Be sure that I don't stop.

My whole life belongs to Your Majesty.

Let's hope so, because I'm Italian.

You should fear Italians, Chartres.

You should fear them.

Nemours, don't you worry about husbands ?

You're carrying my cousin's colors.

Marie ! A letter from a woman - it fell
from Monsieur de Nemours' pocket.

- From whom ?
- Not signed.

Give it to me--

Get in quickly, the King wants to leave.

I don't have time to read it.

Take it to the little Cleves ;
have her identify the writing for me.

Catherine ! Do you believe your Vidame ?

You're wrong.

He had a letter from
a woman in his pocket, and he lost it.

- Give it to me.
- What do you take me for ?

A scoundrel ; hand it over !

- What ?
- The letter.

Ask the Dauphine ; she has it.

Get in, Harry !
A husband must follow his wife.

This is not your scarf, Madame.

It's Monsieur de Nemours'.

I picked it up by accident.

We must return it to him.

I'll have it sent tomorrow.

What's wrong ?

I'm looking for a paper.

- Where did you lose it ?
- I don't know ; that's what worries me.

Looking for a letter ?

- Hand it over.
- Was it yours ?

Yes, hand it over !

I don't have it ; the Dauphine does.

She gave it to Madame de Cleves.
You're her cousin - get it from her.

- Serious ?
- Very.

- From a woman ?
- If the Queen sees it I'm lost.

- Was it signed or addressed ?
- No, but the Queen is suspicious.

Save me, Nemours.

Tell my cousin the letter is yours.

Impossible.

I beg you ;
it's a question of life and death.

I have my own entanglements.

It would be very unpleasant if the
Dauphine thought the letter was mine.

One more reason to speak to the Princess ;
the Queen will know, she'll want it.

If the letter fell from your pocket,
Marie Stuart will be upset.

But the Queen's another matter :
she kills.

You don't want the Princess
to give the letter to the Dauphine...

... who'll give it the Queen.

Yes. Your only risk is that you'll look
like a cad to my cousin, who's a saint.

As strange as it may appear, I request
that you receive the Duke de Nemours.

I just sent word
that I would receive no one.

He's come to ask our help
for our cousin the Vidame.

I'm very weak ;
I don't feel strong enough.

This visit is too important to refuse.

Receive him.

As you wish.

Madame, my insistence
must appear intolerable.

I am only obeying my husband.

I'm listening.

It concerns a letter.

There it is.

I am happy to see
it's still in your possession...

... for its consequences
could be terrible.

I'm not surprised.

The Dauphine, who asked me
to identify the writing...

... will not be happy
that such a letter could be sent to you.

Go to the Dauphine,
and in a straightforward way...

... tell her the interest
you have in this letter...

... since she knows that it's yours.

I don't know what people
have told the Dauphine.

But I have
nothing to do with this letter.

It was sent to Monsieur de Chartres.

It doesn't matter ;
the Dauphine has heard otherwise.

And it hardly seems likely
that a letter to the Vidame...

... should fall out of your pocket.

That's why, unless you wish
to hide the truth from the Dauphine...

... I advise you to admit it to her.

I have nothing to admit, Madame.

The letter did not fall from my pocket.

If there's one person
I wish to convince...

... it's not the Dauphine.

I'd like to believe you.

I mean, I dislike libertinism.

And the man who could receive such
a letter must be behaving badly.

A love letter is not a crime.

I don't think the Vidame is a libertine.

Did you read the letter ?

Madame, I see that
you still don't believe me.

It hardly matters to me if it
was addressed to one or the other.

It would grieve me if you thought
my behavior was deceptive.

Are you satisfied ?

What will you tell the Dauphine ?

Have no fear.

I will explain things and convince her
you are still worthy of her favor.

Please understand, Madame...

... that the favor of the Dauphine
is not what counts most to me.

Excuse me for interrupting ;
Queen Catherine knows everything.

- The Queen !
- She's sent for the letter.

We must produce it immediately.

What will we do ?

I burned the letter.

The Vidame is lost.

All I can do is say
that the letter was mine.

Not that !

The Queen is too sharp to be fooled.

You believed it, Madame.

The letter must be given to the Queen.

It no longer exists. There is but one
way to save the Vidame : rewrite it.

Monsieur de Nemours must manage it.

Stay here until you've reconstructed
the letter, no matter what.

But Monsieur de Nemours
never read the letter.

I'm the only one who has.

Do you have a clear enough
memory of it to re-write it ?

- Me ?
- Yes, you.

I understand how much
the task repels you.

Alas, we have no choice.

The Prince is right.

The letter must be rewritten.

In a woman's handwriting
different from yours.

I feel unable to disguise my handwriting.

And if I forget the text,
to invent a new one that will fit.

You must.

I will help you, and since
this new letter is addressed to me...

I swear that with my help,
the deception will never be discovered.

Forgive me, Madame, for making
you do this disagreeable task...

... which is so contrary to your nature.

Since the life
of our cousin is at stake--

Do it as quickly as possible.

I will distract the dwarf.

"My love... "

Isn't that a little abrupt ?

What would you put ?

It seems to me
the letter began "My dear love..."

Alright, "My dear love... "

"My dear... love."

Wait : "I feel that our passion
is a terrible danger...

"... which threatens you
at every moment."

What's so funny ?

To whom do you attribute
this terrible danger ?

Let's hurry. I'm almost certain
that that was it.

"I feel that... our...

"... passion

"... is a terrible danger...

"... which threatens you...

"... at every moment."

The writing is excellent. Let's go on.

I can't remember any more.

Exactness is not absolutely necessary.

It's the meaning that counts.

I suggest : "The more I see you...

"... the more I adore you."

That's wrong.
It's a letter breaking things off.

Then put, "Alas !"

"Alas !

"The more I see you...

"... the more I adore you."

That's very good, but
you have to change the handwriting.

I was using my own. Let's start again.

If we go on like this,
we won't finish until tomorrow.

You have a lovely house,
Monsieur de Cleves.

Very modest, compared to
what you're used to.

The Louvre isn't bad.

A bit large, but not bad.

It's certainly not dull at your house.

The Princess had a visitor ;
she's coming herself.

She would not like to miss
the chance of seeing you...

... and giving you that letter.

If you think it's easy
to imitate a woman's handwriting--

But admit that
I'm doing better than you !

- I admit it.
- I'm listening.

"It's the fear I have of losing you...

"... that forces me
to distance myself from you."

Go on. That's perfect.

"Don't blame me,
my dear love, if I leave you.

"I had planned to pretend
that I no longer loved you.

"But I no longer have the strength.

"I love you even more...

"... because I must no longer love you.

"Farewell, my dear love.

"Farewell."

Madame, you know the letter by heart.

Re-read it quickly,
and finish the letter.

I didn't write anything down.

That's madness !
We haven't a moment to lose !

The Queen is waiting.

Start again.

I don't know... I can't...
I don't feel able...

Calm down. I have
a good memory ; I'll write it.

"Don't blame me,
my dear love, if I leave you.

"I had planned...

"... to pretend that
I no longer loved you.

"But I no longer have the strength.

"... the strength.

"Never was such suffering as mine.

"I love you even more..."

"I love you even more because
I must no longer love you."

What is this gibberish ?

It's the letter.

- The letter.
- Madame de Cleves gave it to me.

And Madame de Cleves gave it to you.

She made me wait an hour.

She made you wait an hour.

Catherine ! Listen to me !

Catherine ! Let me out !

Think hard, my lad, think hard.

I'll teach you to write love letters.

I'm very grieved to have brought this
upset into the calm of your house.

I admire Madame de Cleves
for being so unused to intrigue.

Congratulations.

My wife is almost a child.

Your servant. I would some day like
to pay my respects to the Princess...

... in less unfavorable circumstances.

I would also like that, my dear Duke.

But even though I've asked Madame
de Cleves to attend the tournament...

... she insists that I spend some time
with her at our estate at Coulommiers.

Will the Court be deprived
of your presence for long ?

As short a time as possible.

But my wife finds that in Paris
we are too seldom alone.

Madame, we leave tomorrow
for Coulommiers.

I have business there, and I feel
that your health will benefit from it.

You think just as I do.

I wanted to ask you if we could go.

Georges !

You're riding like the devil !
Where are you leading me ?

We've lost the rest of the hunt.

Georges, what is it ?

I have a confidence to make to you.

I lost the hunt on purpose.

It was just an excuse so I could do
something that means the world to me.

I'm leaving you.

Wait here for me ;
it'll look like we got lost together.

I won't ask any questions.
Will you be long ?

I'd like that ; but I fear
you won't be waiting long.

For some time now, you've had a taste
for solitude which surprises me.

And which pains me
because it keeps us apart.

I find you even more serious than usual.

And I fear that you have some sorrow.

Why don't you want to return to Paris ?

I'm not troubled in my spirit.

But the tumult of the Court is so great,
mind and body grow weary...

... and one seeks repose.

Repose is hardly fitting
for a person of your age.

Your attitude and words convince me
there's a reason you wish to remain alone.

And I beseech you to tell me.

Do not force me to admit a thing
I have not the strength to admit.

Though I've several times meant to.

Know only that it is not wise for me
to appear in the midst of the Court.

What do you wish me to imagine, Madame ?

By saying nothing you tell me
that I'm not mistaken.

Then I will make a confession
no one has ever made to a husband.

It is true that I have reasons
to distance myself from Court.

And I want to avoid the danger
that sometimes attends people my age.

However dangerous the course
I'm taking, I take it with joy...

... to keep myself
worthy of being yours.

Forgive me if my words displease you.

At least I'll never
displease you by my acts.

Have pity on me...

... and love me still,
if that is possible.

Have pity on me yourself, Madame.

You appear to me more worthy
of esteem and admiration...

... than any woman who has ever lived.

And yet...

... I find myself
the unhappiest of men.

I've never been able
to awaken true love in you.

And I see that you fear
that you feel it for another.

Who is he, Madame ?

That fortunate man
who gives you this fear ?

For how long ?

What did he do to attract you ?

What path did he find to your heart ?

I have both the jealousy of a husband...

... and that of a lover.

Go on - tell me
who it is whom you're fleeing ?

I beg you not to ask me.

Once again I entreat you
to tell me what I must know.

It's useless to insist.

I assure you that nothing
has been said that could affront you.

I can't believe you.

I remember your confusion
when your portrait disappeared.

You gave it - you gave
that portrait, which I cherished so.

How can you think I could be hiding
anything in my confession...

... which nothing forced me to make ?

I did not give away my portrait.

It's true, I saw when it was taken,
but I pretended not to...

... for fear of hearing
what I didn't want spoken.

Then how did you come
to know that you were loved ?

Spare me from giving you the details
I'm ashamed of myself.

You are right, Madame.

I am unjust.

Refuse to answer
every time I ask such a thing.

But do not be offended if I ask.

Monsieur de Nemours' joy
was not long lived.

He'd learned that he had touched
the heart of Madame de Cleves...

... and he had no hope when she could
use against her own feelings...

... such an extraordinary remedy.

What would you think of a woman who could
love a man without ever telling him ?

Without even approaching him ?

Who confessed this secret to her husband
so he himself could protect her ?

I'd think it an incredible story.

This incredible story is true.

It happened to one of my friends.

I thought it was amazing.

And the husband ?

The nobility of his soul, and his
admiration for his wife's conduct...

... did not keep him from being
the unhappiest of men.

And your friend loves this woman ?

He is mad about her.

My dear, I was impatiently
waiting for you.

I want to tell you a story
that I'm sure you'll find interesting.

You wanted to know what caused
the change in the Duke de Nemours ?

I think I know.

It's something that will surprise you.

He's in love and is loved by
one of the fairest ladies at Court.

I see nothing surprising about that, for
a handsome man like Monsieur de Nemours.

What's astonishing is this woman
loves Monsieur de Nemours...

... and has never given him any sign.

And for fear of being
overpowered by her passion...

... confessed it to her husband.

Monsieur de Nemours himself
told this to the Vidame de Chartres.

Isn't it an amazing story ?

Nemours ! Come in quickly !

I want to know from you
if a story I've heard is true.

And if it's really you who are in love
with and loved by a lady at court...

... who hides her passion
and has admitted it to her husband.

Look at him !

And decide
if this story isn't about him.

I confess that no one
could be more distressed than I...

... over the Vidame de Chartres'
betrayal of my trust...

... in telling him the story
of one of my friends.

I don't know why, Madame, you do me
the honor of involving me in this story.

Vidame could not say it was
about me, as I told him the opposite.

Nemours, I saw your embarrassment.

I was troubled by the justified reproach
my friend could make me...

... by repeating something
dearer to him than life.

He did not name the person he loves.

I know only that he's the man the most
in love and the most to be pitied.

He is not to be pitied,
since he is loved.

Do you believe one who feels a genuine
passion could reveal it to her husband ?

No. My friend cannot flatter
himself with any hope.

But unhappy as he is, he is happy...

... to have at least
given the fear of loving.

Your friend's passion
is very easily satisfied.

And I begin to believe
that the tale is not about you.

We're going to be late
for the tournament.

The King !

Madame, I absolutely must explain.

Rest assured,
I do not believe your story.

A woman capable
of such an act would not tell it.

A husband who heard such a confession
would be unworthy if he repeated it.

The King !

What is it ?

Sire, Madame de Cleves is unwell.

Not today - the tournament can't wait.

Look to your wife.

- Are you ill ?
- Hurry, Cleves.

Do your duty ; I will do mine.

You're very pale, my dear.

It's nothing, Madame ;
I'm ready to follow you.

On, then !

It's not the King's sister !

It's the Dauphine
and her husband, the Little King !

I want to see, Mama !

Quiet, or I'll smack you !

Why were you ill ?

- You ask me that ?
- I do.

I was ill because of you.

Because of me, Madame ?

You did something unbelievable.

You repeated what
I told you at Coulommiers.

- I, Madame ?
- You.

I had the shame of hearing
the Dauphine talk of it...

... without knowing
that it concerned me.

How can you believe me
capable of something so base ?

I counted on your discretion--

Respond to the salutation, Madame.

Why is the King carrying
the colors of mourning ?

They are mine, Mr. Ambassador.

The custom is that each man
carries the colors of his lady.

Catherine, is it proper for the King to
wear mourning for his mistress's husband ?

Green is obviously more cheerful.

If the conversation
was repeated it must have been by you.

Do not accuse me
of a fault that you've committed.

Believe me, Madame,
as I wish to believe you.

If the thing is known,
we must avoid it spreading.

The Court is a cesspool.

I'm going back to Coulommiers
and never coming back.

Who told the Dauphine
about this conversation ?

The Vidame de Chartres.
He had it from Monsieur de Nemours.

What ? Monsieur de Nemours knows
that you love him and that I know ?

You're always talking
about Monsieur de Nemours.

Monsieur de Nemours had the story
from a friend, who named no names.

Why, when Monsieur de Nemours came to
our house, would you not receive him...

... when you receive everyone else ?

You like everyone except those
you're indifferent to.

I told you I will never
respond to your suspicions.

Admit it, Madame.

You love Monsieur de Nemours.

Do you know whose scarf Monsieur
de Nemours carries on his lance ?

I don't know.

You're right, Madame.

You'll return tomorrow to Coulommiers.

Bravo, Nemours !

Run and tell the King
he's in no state to break another lance.

He won't listen ; he's an idiot,
and stubborn as a mule.

Do you want to go back in the hole ?

Come on, Montgomery, to the list.

I entreat you, Sire, excuse me
from breaking another lance.

Your Majesty and I are both very tired.

I want my revenge ! You're the only one who
nearly knocked me out of my stirrups !

Very well.

Harry ! The Queen asks you to stop.

Tell her it's for her honor that I fight.

A shard has deeply
penetrated the King's eye.

The wound is serious and deep.

Monsieur Ambrose Paré,
the King's fate is in your hands.

Go first, Madame.

You are the Queen of France.

You have some accounts to render us.

Now that I have no more master...

... the gems the King entrusted to me
will be returned to you tonight...

... and put in your hands.

I will be most obliged to you, Madame.

Follow the Court, ladies.

You are free.

You too, my dear.

I order you.

It's the end.

The King is dead ! Long live the King !

How hot it is !

What fun !

Will Your Majesty excuse me
on behalf of the King for leaving ?

He was dead with fatigue.

He always is.

I hope your famly matters
won't keep you away from Paris...

... and deprive us
too long of your presence.

I hope Monsieur de Nemours
doesn't have any serious problems.

Not that I know of.

He asked leave to go for 24 hours.

How is your wife ?

She's still very weak,
and is resting at Coulommiers.

Madame Cleves doesn't
find it dull there all alone ?

She likes the solitude.

What are you thinking ?

I have an idea.

It's absurd.

I just want to see.

Go.

May I dare ask the Queen the same favor
as Monsieur de Nemours ?

How can you think of such a thing ?

Nemours is gone ;
who will pass the King his shirt ?

As you wish, Your Majesty.

What is it, Madame ?

I heard you cry out.

It may be.

I might have cried out while dreaming.

This pavilion is too lonely.

I'd like to return to the chateau.

Help me.

Passion had never been so tender
and violent as it was in this prince.

He gave himself up
to the raptures of his love...

... and his heart was so overladen,
he felt forced to shed some tears.

But they were not tears of pain.

They were mixed with the sweetness
and charm found in love.

What do you want ?

To render you service.

What sort of service ?

I've just returned from Coulommiers.

I found it interesting
to follow Monsieur de Nemours.

Are you listening ?

He spent the whole night
in your pavilion.

No doubt he likes the solitude.

Get out.

Solitude for two.

Get out, I tell you.

Now, what I always say is...

Get out !

He was found unconscious 5 days ago.

We think he must have fainted.

Why wasn't I told ?

He wouldn't let us.

He must have been afraid of worrying you.

But in view of the gravity of his
condition, I felt it was imperative.

It seems incredible.

I've done all I can, Madame.

Incredible !

You shed many tears, Madame...

... for a death that you have caused...

... and which cannot cause you
the pain you display.

How could such an extraordinary
deed as yours...

... sink into lie ?

How can you accuse me
of lying at such a time ?

You weren't going to see
Monsieur de Nemours ever again.

I believed you.

And then you deceived me.

I will die.

But after you've taken away
the esteem and love I had for you...

... life would be a horror to me.

Death will be preferable.

Oh, you're delirious !
Or else I'll go mad.

- Tell me that tomorrow--
- Tomorrow ?

Tomorrow.

You can make Monsieur de Nemours happy...

... without guilt.

Me ? Guilt ?

I've never done anything
you couldn't have witnessed.

It seems I'm dreaming and
you're speaking of someone else.

Whom are you speaking of ?

I speak of my wife...

... who spent a night with another.

No, it's not me you're speaking of.

I've never spent the night
with Monsieur de Nemours.

I've never let him touch me.

And I swear to you--

No more !

Vows or false oaths.

They come too late.

I feel myself so close to death...

... that I don't want to see anything...

... that could make me
regret leaving life.

Listen to me-- look at me !

It's not my interest I defend,
but your life.

It's impossible that my eyes
can't convince you.

It's true, Monsieur de Nemours
came to Coulommiers.

I thought I saw someone in the park ;
I even thought it might be him.

But as soon as he came in the window--

I mean, as soon as he tried
to climb in the window--

It's over.

You've killed Monsieur de Cleves.

Forgive me, ladies,
for asking you to wait for me.

Queens also wish,
sometimes, to walk alone.

Don't bother.

The Queen !

Forgive me for disturbing your solitude.

Don't be surprised by my visit.

The Queen may do
what the Dauphine could not...

... for fear of damaging her reputation.

It's another woman
who speaks to you, Nemours.

And she finds herself
in the odd situation of pitying a man...

... whom she earlier
had the weakness to fancy.

Let me speak.

People of our rank should be
above mediocre intrigues.

This is the reason
for the freedom I take...

... which violates the laws
of decency and protocol.

You are in love and you suffer.

How can I answer with a lie...

... to a generous and
unexpected offer of compassion ?

I even offer you a special assistance.

And if it's possible
to convince the lady who resists you...

... she'll listen to me
more readily than anyone else.

I dare not express
my gratitude, Madame...

... or my suprise
at a deed so rare and high...

... that none other can compare with it.

Let's be reasonable, Nemours.

As far as you still can be.

I've heard that Madame de Cleves
continues in mourning.

She holds you responsible,
refuses to meet with you.

It's true that I am most unhappy.

A Queen has no reason
to remain indifferent...

... to attentions any woman
would be flattered to inspire.

We're being observed. Let's walk.

I keenly pity your madness,
and I'd like to feel jealous.

Consider me an accomplice, who still
feels a genuine friendship for you...

... and is happy to help you.

In my extremity, I could not hope
that any miracle of help were possible.

It's that help that I offer.

Come in.

Her Majesty the Queen
wishes to see Your Highness.

Let's dispense with custom ; regard this
only as a visit from your best friend.

Forgive me, Your Majesty,
but you will find only sadness here.

And only my respectful devotion
causes me to break the solitude...

... in which I've determined to live.

My dear, while you were Cleves' wife...

... I could only admire
your resistance to your heart's desire.

- Madame...
- I know what you'll say.

You're young, and free.

And I'm the ambassadress of a man who
is tortured by your voluntary seclusion.

And nothing now
forces you to torture him.

Madame, if you were not the Queen,
I would beg you to leave me alone...

... and to speak no more
of the Duke de Nemours.

You're the one who mentioned him.

Come, give up this inhuman attitude.

And believe a woman who could
have had reason to act as your rival.

But the distress of
Monsieur de Nemours has convinced me...

... to make you renounce this harshness
which I'm sure your heart condemns.

I must frankly tell you that Monsieur
de Nemours' imprudent behavior...

... caused the death
of Monsieur de Cleves.

And I cannot forget this crime.

Even admitting that the offence that
Monsieur de Nemours secretly bore him...

... could have overpowered
Monsieur de Cleves...

... it is surely not a crime.

You unjustly accuse a man who's only
guilty of dying for love of you.

The only guilty party is me, Madame.

For example ?

Did you give in to Monsieur de Nemours ?

No, Madame.

Do you love him ?

Would I say I was guilty
if I didn't love him ?

Well, I can't understand you.

I confessed this love to Monsieur
de Cleves so he could keep it at bay.

He thought I was guilty, and I could
not clear myself before he died.

I admire you.

I know no woman who would
carry her virtue to the level you do.

And not give in to her desires.

Alas, Madame, I accuse myself of having
to conquer with great suffering...

... and flee in solitude the inclination
I had for Monsieur de Nemours.

Where would virtue be,
if we didn't have to conquer ourselves ?

May I ask the Queen
to leave me to my grief.

And not to force me
to display it to her.

You adore him.

Torment me no more !

I'm only too ready
to let myself be convinced.

I know now,
if he asks me, what I must say.

A queen's power is not so great
as she proudly supposed.

Madame de Cleves refuses your visit.

She will never see you again.

Home.

Come in quick, Nemours.

I asked you to come
because you helped me before...

... and now I'm happy to help you.

Since circumstances
no longer are in the way...

... and your situation
urges me to help you...

... I felt that a meeting with
Madame de Cleves was essential.

She refuses to receive me.

Not even a visit from the Queen
could shake her decision.

Perhaps she had
a reason to refuse the Queen...

... but nothing stopped her from coming
to my house for a family gathering.

She's here.

It's impossible !

It's very possible.

And I'm sure she won't
resent the little trick I used...

... to get her to finally see you.

Forgive Monsieur de Chartres
for having arranged this meeting.

Do not believe that I was fooled by my
cousin's reasons for bringing me here.

I knew I would see you.

And I entreat you to hear me
without interruption.

I won't say that I didn't see
that you were attracted to me.

Perhaps you won't
believe me when I tell you.

If you saw it, is it possible
you weren't moved by it ?

Did it make no impression
on your heart ?

I confess that you awoke feelings
in me I'd never known before.

And I confess this with less shame
because I say it at a moment...

... when I can do so without guilt.

But you know this only too well.

What a difference between learning it by
chance, hearing it from your lips.

It's true that I wanted you to know,
and I find sweetness in telling you.

But nothing can come of this confession.

Don't think that, Madame !

There is no duty which binds you.

You are free.

I know that things are of a sort...

... that the public might not
censure us if we became united.

But do men retain their passion
for long in these eternal unions ?

Should I expect a miracle in my case ?

Madame, you are too unfair.

And I see only too well that
my reputation has been damaged with you.

What do you fear ?
Why is my love so frightening ?

Nothing could keep me from knowing
that you were very attractive.

By vanity, by taste,
all women wish to win you.

There are few whom you do not attract.

And I believe that there is not one
who wouldn't be happy with you.

In this state, I would have
no other course but that of suffering.

I don't know if I would
even dare to complain.

One can reproach a lover.

But what can you say to a husband
when he no longer loves you ?

Why must I accuse you
of the death of Monsieur de Cleves ?

Monsieur de Cleves thought I was
happier than I am if he thought--

Don't speak of that event !

I'm ashamed of it.

And it's worse
when I think of what followed.

I'll never forget the pain of Monsieur
de Cleves accusing you of his death.

Reproaching me for having loved you.

Of having been with you.

It's impossible to overcome
such powerful reasons.

Do you think your resolve can hold
out against a man who adores you ?

Whose only wants to make you happy ?

It's harder than you think to resist
one who attracts you.

And who loves you.

I don't hope to overcome
my inclination for you.

It will make me unhappy.

But I will remove myself from you,
whatever struggle it costs me.

There's no obstacle, Madame.

You alone impose a law which
reason and virtue would not impose.

You love me ; I know my happiness.

Let me see your feelings
and cease to make me unhappy.

I know that nothing is more
difficult than what I must do.

Wait for what time can do.

Be happy in having
made someone love you...

... who would never
have loved if she hadn't met you.

My feelings will last forever.

And they'll exist equally whatever I do.

Farewell.

I entreat you, by all
the power I have over you...

... to never try to see me again.

Madame de Cleves felt that only
absence could give her some strength.

But her soul had been
so deeply disturbed...

... that she began to languish
as soon as she reached home.

For many months, the reason she had
not to marry Monsieur de Nemours...

... appeared strong
on the side of her duty...

... and insurmountable,
on the side of her love.

Monsieur de Nemours
was afflicted by this...

... as a lover would be
by the death of his mistress.

His unhappiness led him
to despair and extravagance.

And Monsieur de Chartres
found it difficult to keep him...

... from displaying
his feelings in public.

He had much difficulty
also in stopping him...

... from going himself
to get news about the Princess.

Yet, one day...

After vain attempts...

Mr. Majordomo !

This activity is very interesting.

What are these preparations ?

The Princess ordered me to make
this pavilion as splendid as possible.

I thought the Princess had decided
to withdraw from society...

... and live in solitude ?

She did, my lord. But last week she
ordered me to restore this pavilion.

No doubt she's preparing
it for some celebration.

Is it true, Doctor, that
my cousin agrees to receive me ?

Yes, my lord,
she saw you from the window.

Chartres ! What a nice surprise !

The surprise is mine, Madame,
who feared to be turned away...

... and am delighted
that you receive me.

Nothing makes me happier than
to see you resplendent in that youth...

... which fades when grief assails us.

Not so fast, cousin.

You see me in shadow.

If I've refused to see you, it's only
through fear of frightening you...

... by the sight of what
my tears have reduced me to.

Your friends will be happy to hear
that you are as beautiful as ever...

... and that you're ready
to end a solitude...

... that has deprived them of you.

I'm just forcing myself to stay alive
with the clumsiness of an invalid.

You see, Monsieur le Vidame...

I was wishing to die.

I think I'm getting stronger.

Let me admit that I intruded upon
your seclusion to help a friend.

It's Monsieur de Nemours.

Who is in the keenest distress.

Is he ill ?

No one goes near him.

And your heart is too noble
to pretend to ignore a suffering...

... of which you are the cause.

Chartres, I've suffered
too much to use the tricks...

... with which the rest
of the world amuses itself.

I'll hide nothing from you.

I was hoping you would come.

Take this letter to Monsieur de Nemours.

Maybe it will bring him
some lessening of his pain.

And if it's true that my
retirement is responsible for his...

... he'll no doubt be happy to learn...

... that soon it will be over.

Only, I can't bear that you might be
deceived by certain steps I've taken...

... which unfortunately do not match
what you might be expecting.

Come close, Chartres...

... and listen.

No doubt you can imagine
the distress this visit has caused me.

It's her will, Monsieur le Vidame ;
it cannot be changed.

But Doctor, can't you do
something more, in spite of her ?

There are weaknesses
stronger than any force...

... and against which
our poor science can do nothing.

You should do what she asks,
no matter how strange it appears.

Maybe she's wrong about her condition...

... and might discover
an unexpected chance of happiness.

No, my lord. It's a miracle she's alive.

She only held on for your visit.

Her poor little flame is almost out.

Her orders are that I notify you
when her life is slipping away.

I'll await your message.

Read it.

I don't have the strength.

She had the strength to write it.

It's like a dream.

If I open it I'll suddenly awaken.

You're not dreaming ;
and the Princess awaits your reply.

Do you know what's in this letter ?

She told me "Take this letter
to Monsieur de Nemours.

"If it's true that my retirement
is responsible for his...

"... he'll no doubt be happy to learn
that soon it will be over."

Is it my imagination,
or does this letter horrify me...

... and burn my fingers ?

Chartres ! I won't die
without seeing her !

It's to receive me that
she's decorating the pavilion !

The Princess has arranged
a rendezvous and will soon send for me.

"Come, meet me at the pavilion...

"... the same way you did
the night you frightened me so.

"I will await you...

"... free to give you the vow of a heart
which refused the offer of yours...

"... less by an excess of scruples...

"... than by fear of suffering."

She has nothing more
to fear in this world.