All language subtitles for The.Man.In.The.Iron.Mask.1977.720p.BluRay.x264.AAC-[YTS.MX]-eng

You must understand, monsieur.

I have strict orders not to
let anyone see these prisoners.

But an order from the
Minister, Monsieur Fouquet.

The rack, mademoiselle.

Still the best way to
loosen a villain's tongue.

Tell me, monsieur, why
does a beautiful young lady

of His Majesty's court wish to see

a wretch like this de la Valliere?

She is the man's daughter.

A fact that Monsieur Fouquet
would not want published.

As governor of the Bastille,
one learns to be discreet.

Please!

Monsieur!

Monsieur, I demand to know why I am here!

What have I done?

Who is my accuser?

When am I to be tried?

To hear them complain,
they are all innocent.

Alone,

as I was promised.

Five minutes, no more.

Father?

Who's there?

What do you want of me?

It's Louise.

Louise?

Go away!

I'm dreaming.

No, papa.

You're not dreaming.

Dear child!

Dear child!

Forgive me.

Why isn't this, I can't.

Let me see you.

How beautiful you are!

So, so elegant.

Life at court must suit you.

Oh, if only you knew how little.

Dearest papa,

please forgive me.

What, why do you blame yourself?

If I had not rejected the
attentions of Monsieur Fouquet.

Fouquet?

That lecher!

Shh, we may be heard.

It would be better if I
were Fouquet's mistress,

and you were free.

Never!

I'd rather rot here.

He said that if I gave myself to him.

Do they never!

I must accept his bargain.

No!

No!

Mademoiselle!

My father and I,

thank you

for your kindness.

Why do you stare at me so?

It's just that you resemble.

Who?

An acquaintance.

Do not be afraid.

How could I harm anyone so beautiful?

But you must tell me.

I must know.

It is time.

Give me some light.

You there, come here.

What is it you see?

Leave him alone!

Monsieur, monsieur, monsieur.

See how the hawk and the
falcon conspire together?

I wonder what evil they are hatching.

Fouquet.

The master juggler at work.

The national treasury plundered.

The very wealth of funds
smoothly channelled

into personal glory in
his chateau at Vaux.

Maybe we'll see him pay it back one day.

But look at the real scourge of France.

This water lily who calls himself a king.

Patience, D'Artagnan.

Remember, Louis still wears the
crown and bears the sceptre.

Any action against him
must be a last recourse.

It cannot be soon enough for me.

Fouquet has ears everywhere.

He must not never get wind of our plans

until we are ready to act.

I will count the minutes till the day.

I tell you.

He lives!

Where?

The Bastille.

Though God knows what stroke of fate

put him there for me to find.

Fate?

This was the work of those jealous

of my power over the King.

Colbert?

As I've long suspected that venerated

Minister of the Interior to
have a plot to do me damage.

But a move so bold as this,

is not only against me, it's...

Could be treason.

Delicious.

I'll hang the old fox yet!

Are you absolutely sure it's the boy?

The protege of Cardinal Mazarin,
not just some look-alike?

The resemblance is too perfect.

It has to be.

We must be certain.

Must be.

Who are you?

What do you want?

Who brought
this prisoner here?

I don't know who arrested him.

The order was signed by some
obscure prefecture in Burgundy.

No one must see that prisoner
without my authorization.

Guard him well,
or it will be your neck.

Rest assured, Minister!

Rest assured.

Beat that, Montfleury, if you can.

If you dare!

What, and risk another tantrum?

I shall miss by a league, my dear.

How brazenly de La Valliere

flirts with your husband, madame.

How openly your son
encourages her, madame.

Oh, what a pity!

Ah, Fouquet, if you come to
join the game, you are too late.

We are bored with it,
and have found ourselves

a new distraction.

I seek a word in
private with Your Majesty

on a matter of some urgency.

What a tedious man you are, Fouquet!

You haven't even asked the score.

I wager Your Majesty played
as successfully as usual?

We have won every set.

Congratulations, Sire.

Come to our chambers later.

Much later.

How can you endure such
humiliation with a smile?

Easily, madame, if it
keeps him from my bedroom.

With a common country girl?

Little slut.

You are not the only one to be upset.

Look at Fouquet.

I admire your restraint, monsieur.

No sacrifice is too great, Duval,

if one pleases one's sovereign.

Why is that?

Because, madame, our little Louis

has taken his prize!

Exquisite!

But we will have to
arrange for a new wardrobe.

His Majesty is too kind.

Not at all.

It is a pity to hide such assets.

You deserve gowns that will show them off

and allow one a glimpse of paradise.

Come, come, why so shy?

Surely you've guessed by now

that I would give the world for you.

Simply ask, and it will be yours!

Oh, Your Majesty, I would not presume.

Dear girl, I expect you to presume.

Presume too much!

Demand more than I can fulfil!

That will be my agony and my joy!

Such is the game of love,

at which I perceive you are new.

Alas, I fear I will
never know the rules.

Nonsense.

I will instruct you.

For example, when I shower you with gifts,

do not be too quick to show your pleasure.

Pout a while and look dissatisfied.

But surely that would
hurt your feelings, Sire.

Yes!

Yes, now you begin to understand.

And I will grovel at your feet, like this

and kiss the hem of your gown, like this,

and beg you to forgive me.

Your Majesty!

- Monsieur.
- We have been waiting...

Messieurs, messieurs,
please, His Majesty

will receive you all in due course.

Will His Majesty see me now?

His Majesty
craves the Minister

of the Interior's indulgence
a little while longer.

- Monsieur Fouquet.
- Later.

Much later.

We should just stand here.

Monsieur Colbert, D'Artagnan.

Monsieur.

You are looking more fit than ever.

Thank you.

And you're looking more
prosperous than ever, monsieur.

Monsieur.

I have been
kept waiting five days!

I hear the English
Ambassador was kept...

Have you heard Charles

has recalled his emissary?

How can a country
survive without the monarch?

Do you hear them?

How much longer must we suffer this?

We must not act impetuously.

Impetuously?

Our shores are threatened from abroad,

our people cry out for bread,

and Louis writes odes to
peace and dances the minuet!

What is to become of
France with such a king?

The door.

Ignore it, they will go away.

Enter!

Your Majesty.

Ah, Fouquet.

How quick you are.

Pray, forgive the intrusion,

but the business that I spoke of,

I fear it cannot wait.

Alas, my dear, such are
the burdens of monarchy.

Please, leave us.

No, through here.

It leads to your new apartments.

Through this passage we can come and go,

unobserved by the Queen and my mother.

Till soon, my one and only love.

Ah, Fouquet, what a delight she is!

Such

transparent innocence!

Such incandescent beauty.

She seems demure.

Yes.

Too demure, we must admit.

We are at our wit's end.

Perhaps,

I can help persuade the girl.

You have her confidence?

To some small degree.

If you could but convince
her to trust herself to us.

We would be most grateful
in return, Monsieur Fouquet.

- At Your Majesty's service.
- Yes, yes, yes.

And now your pressing business.

How could you be so cold-hearted?

Henriette!

The face I see before
me, I could easily love.

But the man I find behind the face.

Oh, Louise.

My fan!

I left my fan!

The Queen shouldn't find it there.

You must be mad, Fouquet!

Our twin brother died at birth.

He lives, Sire, I assure you.

That death was the invention

of your father's first minister.

Mazarin.

A lie that he told to the King,

which he accepted in good faith,
the infant was still born.

In fact,

he lived.

He was taken away and
brought up in a secret place.

On the pretext of sparing
your mother further grief,

a secret quick funeral was
prepared and a coffin was buried.

God knows who was really in that coffin.

One thing is now certain, Sire,

it was not your brother Philippe.

But, what could have been
Mazarin's motive in all this?

Sire,

the first born is rightful
heir to the throne.

You are the second son.

Now, he, having in his
control the legitimate heir,

had the power to manipulate you.

Our own mother would have let
her lover Mazarin use us so?

Louis, a puppet king?
- Precisely.

The very ground we stand
upon turns to quicksand.

Fortunately,

Mazarin died before he was able

to replace you on the throne
with your brother Philippe,

and the secret died with him.

That is, we thought so until now.

Are you certain beyond a doubt

that this is our brother Philippe?

I have myself seen the birthmark.

Forgive me.

Identical,

with the one Your Majesty bears.

What a fool Louis has been
to think his crown secure.

Sire,

fear not.

I have the pretender in safe custody.

What have you done with Philippe?

Is he safe and sound?

What could be safer and
more sound than the Bastille?

The Bastille?

Where better to hide
him from Fouquet's spies?

Does he suspect anything?

No, nothing.

He is haunted by the mystery.

It would be an act of
mercy to let him know.

We must say nothing yet.

We should tell him his true identity.

You and I are flirting
with high treason, my friend.

Let Philippe remain
ignorant for his own sake,

as well as our own.

The rack can loosen any man's tongue,

even that of a prince.

Who has revived this
conspiracy against us?

Names.

We cannot point the finger

until I have more proof.

Get it!

And when you have it, we
will extract our retribution.

Has our brother any property?

Just a small estate
in Burgundy, I am told.

Confiscate it!

And,

the fate of the pretender?

Not a single drop of royal blood

is to be shed in this, Fouquet!

We would not want to tempt
providence by condoning regicide.

Wise.

Very wise, Sire.

Also, we cannot forget
that this pretender

is more than our brother, he is our twin,

our mirror image, our other self.

Wound Philippe, and might not Louis bleed?

Kill Philippe, and might not Louis die?

No, we must find some other way.

Sire, I know of a fortress

remote and inaccessible.

We leave the place to your discretion.

Most certain.

But know this, Fouquet,

we wish never to hear his name again,

and no one, no one is ever
to look upon his face.

That is why mere confinement
will not suffice.

We must devise

something

special?

We want him.

Come.

Where are you taking me?

Île Sainte-Marguerite.

Île Sainte-Marguerite.

Île Sainte-Marguerite, what, what is it?

A place of repose.

As restful as the one I have just left?

Oh, more so, you will
have total seclusion

and constant personal care.

I see the beginnings of
it, thank you, monsieur.

The shackles are merely
a temporary measure

for your protection

in case you might attempt
something foolish.

I promise they'll be removed
as soon as we arrive.

You promise?

Faithfully.

What are you?

Hmm?

What are you?

A minister.

Not with the church, I'll be bound.

Perhaps I missed my vocation.

The church, oh thank god.

Very good.

Perhaps you missed your vocation.

I admire your spirit, young man.

You come from good stock.

What do you want of me?

It would be unfair to
burden your mind with thoughts

that might torment you
in your secluded night.

Very well.

You should feel complimented.

You are a principal player in a game.

The game of history.

Does that give you food for thought?

I can smell the sea air.

Soon we shall enjoy a
brief voyage together.

Hold there.

Stop him!

Get him, you fool!

Stop!

Not the face.

Not the face.

Get in.

No, I beg you, no!

I have done nothing!

Please, I beg you, no!

No!

No, no!

Listen to me.

No one must be allowed
to see that prisoner

without my express permission

or on orders of the King.

As for him,

he must never leave this island.

Understood?

Yes, sir.

Why?

Why?

Why?

In the name of God,

will no one tell me who I am?

I leave you here.

Some business with the King's tailor

for the royal name-day
celebrations at Vaux.

It promises to be the event of the season.

And you will attend this extravaganza?

I wouldn't miss it for the world,

and neither must you.

What are you up to?

We make our move at Vaux.

The King and all his court will
be assembled under one roof.

Prepare Philippe.

This order will release from the Bastille.

Then, bring him to my
estate at Bercy, as planned.

Drive on.

Let you see the King's costume?

You must think me mad, monsieur.

No one sees the King's
costumes before he wears them.

That would ruin the surprise.

Ah, but that is the point.

You see, Monsieur Fouquet
wishes to surprise the King

upon his entry into Vaux.

How so?

With a portrait of His Majesty

wearing the costume you have
designed for the masked ball.

one of France's finest young painters.

Perhaps you've heard of him, Lebrun.

Ah, Lebrun!

A master of detail!

Especially with costumes.

The idea is to have a
model pose in the costume,

and then paint it in the
features of the King.

Admirable!

A delicious surprise!

And a treasure His Majesty
will doubtless prize forever.

My finest creations,
preserved for posterity!

Of course, if you're still opposed.

Opposed, I, Percerin,
opposed to the King's pleasure?

Claude, some wine for monsieur.

One moment.

I beg of you, monsieur,
he will surely suspect.

Then it will be both our necks!

And stop shaking.

Monsieur.

Of course, it is nothing
without the King himself.

Where did they take him?

Monsieur Fouquet did not say.

All right, all right, leave me!

Captain D'Artagnan.

Captain!

Who are you?

My name is not important.

But...

What?

I know where they've taken him.

Where?

I can trust you.

I know I can trust you.

You tell me where he is,

and you may save his life.

Where?

The Île Sainte-Marguerite!

My god, we must get him out of there.

It would take an army
to penetrate those walls.

I only have a handful of men.

Brave Musketeers too,
but not enough of them

to take a fortress.

But we can always try.

Not by force, my friend, by cunning.

Not now, Colbert!

Can you not see we are busy?

I sincerely regret this intrusion, Sire,

but these matters will not wait.

For the Coleral to Madrid.

For the ambassadors tonight, Sire.

Really, Colbert, you
could not have chosen

a more inopportune moment.

And the usual, Sire.

The usual again, Sire.

What have we here?

Merely a release order
for a minor offender.

You consider this essential?

For your Name Day, Sire!

This annual demonstration
of royal clemency

helps to reaffirm your
subjects' devotion to you.

They love you the more
for your great compassion.

How shrewd you are, Colbert.

Perhaps too shrewd?

There.

Now may we resume our fittings?

Sire.

Let us see the silk
brocade again, Percerin.

Your Majesty?

Nothing.

It is nothing, only.

Only what, Your Majesty?

Looking in the mirror just then,

a coldness came over us,

as though someone had
walked upon our grave.

God, help me!

Dear God, help.

Madness, madness,

nightmares, nightmares.

God!

Bring me some sweet dreams.

Sweet dreams, sweet dreams,
sweet dreams, sweet dreams.

Bring me some sweet dreams.

Louise.

I shall dream of Louise.

I shall dream of Louise.

Louise.

Louise!

Ah, you're losing your bets.

On the right, of course.

I put money on you.

Come on!

That's it, come on!

Quite!

Sergeant, kill him!

Take care, monsieur!

Lest the King observe your advances.

Excuse me.

Come on!

Come on, cold line, kill him, kill him!

Come on!

And,

thus you keep us both at bay.

What a cunning vixen you have become

for one

so innocent.

Necessity is my tutor, to my shame.

Come, listen to the fox.

By not yielding to my ardors,

you saw your father thrown
into prison and ruined.

By rejecting the King's,
you risk a fate far worse.

A word to the wise, my pet, the next time

the King offers you his favour.

D'Artagnan has been to
the Bastille for Philippe.

D'Artagnan?

Then he must know that his
pigeon has flown the coop.

A pity he doesn't know where.

He rides at this moment for the coast.

Philippe must not be
allowed to reach Paris.

Gently, gently.

I know not who you are,

or why you have come to help me.

That can wait, I think.

Are you strong enough to ride?

Just a little light-headed.

Get him ready, there
is no time to waste.

I want to talk to you.

Forgive me, monsieur.

Never have I been forced
to do so cruel a deed.

They gave you no choice.

Take this, monsieur, so
that you may never forget

what they did to you.

God be with you.

This man goes free as well.

But, Monsieur Fouquet ordered...

Do you question my authority?

- Well, no, Captain.
- Well, then.

Come, the boat is waiting.

Fouquet.

Fast!

Can you get me in this without locking it?

- Yes, sir.
- Good, give me your cloak.

My cloak, why?

And you get in this.

Now I shall play the Man in the Iron Mask

and Fouquet the fool.

To the horses, to the horses!

Will you be all right on foot?

Aye, monsieur, I have a
wife and family waiting.

My feet will fly me home!

- Godspeed.
- Godspeed to you.

My Lord, come!

Go!

You three, ride with him.

The rest, follow me.

After them.

I will deal with this.

Are you hurt, sir?

Ride on, sir,
we'll hold them here.

Your
sword, give me your sword.

Now go!

The King commanded that
his life should be spared.

Who is to tell the King?

D'Artagnan?

And lose his neck?

You and I are the only two witnesses.

There is still Colbert.

Colbert.

Captain D'Artagnan!

Captain!

Thank God you're alive.

Back there,

you called me My Lord,

and then risked your
own life to save mine.

I must understand.

What is it you want of me?

Who am I?

You, my prince,

are the true king of France.

Is the
resemblance really so striking?

You could be his twin.

Difficult to believe.

I've heard the tale of this twin,

but they say the child died at birth.

Still, such myths are enough

to make you a threat,

especially to ambitious men like Fouquet.

A threat or an asset.

D'Artagnan, is my chance
resemblance to the King

all that lies behind these strange events?

A simple yes from you is
all the reassurance I need.

Trust me, please.

What we do here is not for
personal gain, but for France.

Oh, thank you, Andre.

Come now.

It's time for you to dress.

There's much for you to learn.

At last!

I'm tired of being the invalid.

Good!

For now I shall teach
you to play the King!

Again, and slowly.

When you practise
slowly, you learn faster.

And rhythmically, staccato.

Go.

Yes, again.

Saint Louis Francis I.

Left side of the family.

Henry III.

Henry III was my grandfather.

- Wrong.
- Oh, I'm sorry.

- Your great grandfather.
- Yes, my great grandfather.

Henry IV?

Henry IV, my grandfather.

Exactly.

What is your mother's name?

Anne of Austria.

Grandmother.

Marie de' Medici.

Maternal grandfather?

- Philip III of Spain!
- Good.

Paternal grandfather?

Henry IV of France.
- Good!

Come on.

Parry high, then lunge.

Go!

It's coming very nicely, very nicely.

One,

two, chin up.

Chin up.

- Louis XIII is my father.
- Yes.

One,

two,

three,

four.

And one.

What is your date of birth?

September 5th, 1638.

Good!

Two,

three,

four, reverence.

Very good, very good.

And we do it all over again.

Now, please Jacques.

Your favourite pastime?

Dancing and gambling.

To whom do you liken yourself?

The young god Apollo.

Which
name flatters you most?

The Sun King.

Yes, yes, yes, good!

Good!

Again, again, good, good, good, good!

Up!

Who was Cardinal Mazarin?

My father's first minister.

My mother's first lover.

Monsieur Colbert?

Minister of the
Interior, friend and ally.

Nicolas Fouquet?

Minister of Finance.

Marked man!

Jacques, bring me that, will you?

If you are to rule this great nation,

you must learn restraint.

Keep cool.

In battle or in sports.

Be angry, but in cold blood.

Wait here, my dear.

I promise, I shall be brief.

Monsieur Fouquet,

what an unexpected surprise!

Please forgive the interruption,

but the King did request
that I check his escort

for the journey to my chateau.

But, please don't let me
interrupt your exercise.

Nonsense, it's a welcome
intrusion for an ageing swordsman.

Thank you, Francois,
it'll be all for today.

Come, we'll adjourn to the
salon for a glass of wine.

You!

The Bastille.

Hi.

How is it you're here?

By such means as neither you
nor I could ever comprehend.

My father?

Well, when last I saw him.

Thank God!

Hey, Jacqueline!

You're in danger here.

Come.

Louise!

You remember my name?

Everything about you.

We met a moment, hardly longer.

Yet you remember me.

How could I forget?

I made your father
tell me all about you.

We spoke of nothing else.

I even know where you cut your knee

when you fell off a pony as a girl.

It is as though I've
known you all my life.

I am no longer the
child my father spoke of.

What could you see in me now?

How can I explain?

Your finger.

I've dreamt of a moment such as this!

I, too.

Yet I dared not hope.

What needed you to dream
with my double so near at hand?

The two of you are worlds apart.

I am revolted by your brother.

What is it?

Brother?

The King!

My brother?

Surely, you knew.

They say the resemblance
is purely chance.

They deceive you then.

I, his twin?

You have a birthmark, do you not?

God, it's true, then!

Is there no one I can trust?

No.

You are a king.

Louise?

Fouquet.

My heart, my life are in these hands.

Then both are safe and sound.

Louise!

He must not find you.

Our ballet has bored you, my dear?

Your Majesty misconstrues.

Give us your opinion, then.

Very nice.

Nice?

We are overwhelmed by your praise.

Yet still we fear you
prefer your silly rose

to our lavish ballet.

Not at all, Sire.

I merely enjoy its fragrance.

You find a simple flower more
beautiful than our creation?

Only in that its beauty is natural

not painted on or contrived.

There!

You see how transitory
your natural beauty is.

Such beauty as Your
Majesty has just destroyed

will endure in my heart forever!

Louise!

How is it, Fouquet?

She spurns us, she scorns us.

Yet, even now, we're more

a prisoner of her charms than ever.

You cannot allow this
to continue, madame.

Each day this girl humiliates you more.

Not the girl, madame,
but her suitor, your son,

who brings disgrace upon our house.

The only disgrace in
this household, madame,

is our marriage!

In God's name Louis, I am your wife!

Wife?

Nay, say rather burden.

For the sake of France
and our beloved mother,

we agreed to appease Spain

and got this baggage in the bargain.

Louis, you are speaking

to the mother of your children.

Aye, and there's a miracle, madame!

Far easier to span Rhodes' harbour

than to husband this
mountain of sallow flesh.

Oh come, my sweet!

Before you leave,
let the world behold

the special vision of ecstasy
that greets these royal eyes

each night when we retire.

May God forgive me.

If I could bear to see
my children fatherless,

I would wish him dead!

You knew!

All this time you knew, and
yet you did not tell me!

Is your faith so shaken

that you cannot trust us any further?

If so, all is lost.

You saved my life and
rescued me from hell.

Whom else am I to trust?

Well, let me hear the plan.

Simply this, the overthrow of the King

during Fouquet's celebration at Vaux.

There is, however, for you, one condition.

What price a crown?

The transition of power
must be swift and smooth.

The world must never be aware

that any change has taken place.

You must therefore agree
to rule as Louis XIV.

As Louis?

For the rest of your natural life.

As first-born, am I
not the rightful heir?

Right or wrong has
little to do with this.

It's a matter of political necessity.

France is too unstable now to risk a coup.

But what of me?

I am not Louis, I am Philippe!

Am I never to be myself?

What of me?

No.

I refuse to take any
part in such a travesty.

What of me, poor Philippe?

Sickens me to listen to such stuff.

These old eyes have
seen too much suffering,

while you, you lay abed in Burgundy,

snug and safe, far from Louis' reach!

Well, my pampered young prince,

there were others less fortunate.

Consider, for example, my
trusted servant, Andre.

Have you never wondered
at his constant silence?

He has no tongue.

They cut it out.

His crime?

This man, the only living
witness of your birth,

refused to divulge the
secret of your whereabouts.

But before you sever a
tongue, always try persuasion.

There is a place in the distant Alps,

an estate, where the sun is soft,

the soil rich and the game plentiful.

You're free to retire there

and live out the rest of your
life in peace and tranquillity.

Your royal identity forever a secret,

your needs amply provided for.

No one will blame you, if
you choose the safer road.

Myself?

Or my inheritance?

Your birthright is the Crown of France.

Did you know my father well, D'Artagnan?

Enough to love him ever.

He was a brave man?

There was no braver, gentler
man in all Christendom.

It is a pity you never knew him.

And I

am his first-born.

I am the rightful heir to his throne.

Claim it, then.

For a while you will have
to practise patience, true,

but in time your own personality
may emerge eventually,

blot out all trace of
Louis, but not at first.

France could
be the envy of the world.

My friends,

I accept.

God save the King.

God save the King.

Perhaps you
entered this chateau a servant.

But, you will leave it a king.

If I live to leave,
watch what you're doing!

A 1,000 pardons!

One more stroke, I beg of you.

Thank you.

There.

Now, what do you think of that?

I still see Philippe.

One moment please, one moment.

The main feature.

Now what do you see?

An ass.

Magnificent!

His Majesty will be
eternally in your debt,

Monsieur Colbert, I must
congratulate you, and,

also the artist.

Ah, but it was never my
intention to outshine my host.

The portrait is yours
to present to the King.

You are most generous, monsieur!

A token, in appreciation
of your kind hospitality.

I will present it to the
King this evening at the ball.

- Monsieur Fouquet!
- Hmm?

Conceal it till later.

Lest the King should happen upon it

and the surprise be spoiled.

Hang it in the apartments of
Mademoiselle de la Valliere.

She defends her privacy

as jealously as she does her virtue.

Meanwhile, I would take my leave.

Oh, once again, monsieur,

1,000 thanks for your generosity.

What poet of antiquity first warned us

to beware of Greeks bearing gifts?

Watch him.

A little almond paste
to whiten the skin,

a touch of rouge to cheeks and lips,

a bottle or two of sweet perfumes,

and the transformation will be complete.

Philippe.

This is the famous costume?

An exact replica of the one
His Majesty will be wearing.

How will you tell us apart?

I've taken the liberty of
having a subtle distinction

incorporated into the design.

Only we four will be
aware of the difference.

And Monsieur Fouquet, of course.

- Fouquet?
- Don't be alarmed,

everything has its purpose.

Now, come along, my boy.

Monsieur Fouquet is waiting
for you to dress him.

Remember, just as we rehearsed.

One false step and.

Monsieur.

Now,

let us duplicate a king.

Lebrun's painting is excellent.

Why do you quibble?

I gather no one has noticed the flaw.

- Flaw?
- Nothing serious, of course.

Simply an oversight.

What manner of oversight?

Monsieur must promise not
to say a word to my master.

Monsieur Percerin would never forgive me.

I intended to present His
Majesty the painting tonight.

Is there something you
feel that I should know?

Simply that in making
up the duplicate costume,

there was an omission.

Duplicate costume,
what duplicate costume?

Why, the one Lebrun used
as a model for his painting.

You see, it has a purple sash.

Well?

Well, that is what the King
is wearing in the portrait!

A purple sash.

Careful.

Careful, I said.

I,

fail to see the significance.

But the King will be wearing

a white sash tonight, don't you see?

White?

Exactly.

Monsieur Percerin changed his
design at the last minute.

Naturally, it was too late
to change the portrait.

I can only pray His Majesty
will not detect the oversight.

What has become of
this duplicate costume?

I believe Monsieur Colbert still has it.

Exquisite!

I'm sure the Queen will find

Your Majesty quite irresistible.

The Queen?

What an appalling prospect!

It is Louise de la Valliere
whose praise we crave.

Hurry, we will surprise her

with a private showing before the ball!

We go.

D'Artagnan!

She is here.

But not alone.

If I can't fool her maid,
I'll never fool the whole court.

Your point is well taken.

I must see her.

All right, all right, but hurry.

Fouquet will be in the King's
apartment at any moment now.

He must find you there, not Louis.

It is indeed a tribute
to Monsieur Lebrun's art

that he is able to
improve upon perfection.

But then it does not speak,
the ultimate improvement.

Improvement.

Your Majesty.

A thousand pardons, my dear.

I merely came to return this.

Henriette, please leave us.

What miracle is this?

I thought you were the King!

Soon, God willing.

It was foolish to come here.

It is maybe my last chance to see you.

Hear me out.

If tonight's adventure goes awry,

promise me that you will disavow our love.

I would rather' cut
the heart from my breast.

For your own safety, it is
vital that you never knew me.

I could not do it.

Oh, I love you.

If I am king before this night is through,

I must rule with Louis'
name, and not my own.

And with the Queen as
wife, and not Louise.

I could never openly proclaim our love.

Oh, Philippe, hold me, I'm so afraid.

Your Majesty.

What sort of prank is this?

Who dares impersonate the King?

But of course, a hoax.

A jest prepared by our clever host.

Our apologies, dear Louise.

For a moment, we were

sincerely duped,

yet, much more than mere charade.

This impersonator.

So

perfect.

So convincing.

You!

Will you not embrace me, brother?

Guards, help me!

What?

Help me!

Not me, you fool, there is the impostor.

What?

Treason and conspiracy.

He dares to impersonate the King.

Do not listen to this
treachery, Fouquet!

There is the usurper, take him!

Here's your man.

Fool, are you blind?

D'Artagnan speaks the truth.

Duval.

Arrest him.

What are saying?

This is madness!

Arrest him.

But surely, you must be mistaken.

Here is your man!

I am Louis!

I am Louis!

I am your sovereign!

Silence him!

- I am...
- Silence him.

Forgive me, Sire, for
having been so blind.

Your Majesty,

what is your desire?

Has not the King already once
decreed his brother's fate?

So.

Let it stand.

So, I know of the plot that
was perpetrated against you.

And I promise that there
shall be retribution.

Indeed.

Majesty.

Ah, the ball.

We shall proceed as if
none of this had happened.

As for you, Captain.

Majesty.

We would feel more
secure with you at hand.

Do not leave our side tonight.

I am your servant, Sire.

My dear.

Until later.

Fouquet!

Return him to the Île Sainte-Marguerite,

as ordered by the King.

His Sublime Majesty,

Grand Monarch of France,

Louis XIV!

Your Majesty.

Monsieur Fouquet.

Please accept this occasion

as token of my deep devotion

to continue in your service
need be my only reward.

Majesty.

Mother.

Your Majesty.

My son?

I have never seen,

I have never seen you
looking more beautiful.

Why, Louis.

Madame.

You're not yourself
this evening, my husband.

I am as constant as the sun.

Your
dancing is misdirected.

You dance as always, my dear.

If my eyes did not tell me otherwise,

I would think the man
with whom I am dancing

is not my husband.

1,000 pardons, my dear.

If not your husband,

who might he be?

An impostor.

Were that the
case, surely you would be

alarmed, madame.

I am rarely taken by surprise.

And unlike your mother, I can afford

the best informants.

It follows then, that you
would be ready for this usurper.

Most likely.

Ready to expose him?

I would have little to gain.

Except, perhaps,

your return

to my bedchamber,

little gain.

Better your own husband,
madame, than some total stranger.

Quite the contrary.

Am I to understand
that you would not betray

this phantom impostor?

Let us say this usurper could guarantee

that you would be no less
the Queen than you are now.

But I would have to be sure
that my children were secure,

and that they might maintain their right

to the succession of the throne.

Would you take the word of such a man?

If he did not keep his
word, he would lose his head.

As you would have to hold
your tongue or lose yours.

Just so.

But this is,

this is absurdity.

I intend to enjoy a
long and fruitful reign.

And so you will, Sire.

With my

blessing.

If you would excuse me,
I should wish to retire.

I do not desire to spoil
Your Majesty's pleasure.

Good night, then, madame.

God be with you.

God be with you, Louis.

Congratulations, monsieur!

Your ball seems a great success.

More than you imagine, I'll wager.

Less than you imagine, I'll wager.

Colbert, one of your
problems has always been

that you tend to take your bows

before the final curtain falls.

Your trouble, Fouquet,
is you never realise

when the play is over.

You see, tomorrow, when His
Majesty has departed from Paris,

you'll be arrested on the charge

of misappropriation of state funds.

Chevalier Duval will be taken
into custody as an accessory.

My,

dear Colbert,

I hate to inform you that
your plot to depose the King

and replace him with his
brother Philippe upon the throne

has been foiled.

That

is Louis XIV.

On that point at least we can agree.

In which case,

you will be the one to be
arrested tomorrow morning

on charges of conspiracy and treason.

Poor Fouquet, look at them again.

What has become of de la
Valliere's revulsion for the King?

Or could he suddenly
have changed overnight?

Oh, come now,

she won't be the first
reluctant maid that he has

won over.

My, we do need convincing, do we?

Well, perhaps, a reminder of a certain

young apprentice tailor in my employ.

The sashes.

All that trouble,
and you never noticed.

Duval.

Too late.

They've already left for
Sainte-Marguerite on your orders.

The King!

The King, Fouquet, is dead.

Long live the King!

Long live the King!

Listen well, jailer.

These are His Majesty's orders,

therefore they must be
obeyed without question.

The prisoner is quite mad.

I am Louis!

He believes
himself to be the King.

I am King!

He is, therefore,
most dangerous

and must never leave this cell.

Louis.

No one is to
visit him, save you.

No one is to speak to him, including you.

And when, one day, his
food remains uneaten,

you will provide mortar and bricks,

and seal in the entry to this cell.

Then, send word to Paris
that the Man in the Iron Mask

lives no more.
- Louis!

Louis!

Louis!