Original subtitles

Ah, la belle France. Ha, ha.

Oh, Malanez, I can't tell you I've been looking forward to this visit.

The memories, the beautiful, beautiful memories.

Oh, I wish I could share your sentiments, Your Excellency.

But my memories of Paris are quite different.

I hate our former masters.

Nonsense. Look at the reception at the airport.

Brass band, honor guard, two cabinet members.

Ha, ha. I must admit, I was surprised myself.

Ah, but these French are clever.

You can be sure that you will continue to be formally deceived...

as is only befitting a man of your rank and dignity, but...

Uh, here we are.

But what they really think is something else again.

Ah, Monsieur le President...

the management is deeply honored to have you with us.

We are at your complete service. Your every wish is our command.

Thank you, thank you.

As I've already remarked in my speech at the airport...

He's here, Napoleon. You can come on down.

It is a truly thrilling experience...

to be back in the country where I've spent my happiest years.

Once, when my native land...

Who is this bombastic oaf? - What?

It is a visiting president, sir.

Then we must reexamine our tourist policies.

After you, corporal, I have patterned my life...

If you wish to make a fool of yourself, sir, that's your privilege.

But to shatter the eardrums of everyone present with your vulgar bellowing.

Vulgar bellowing?

I warn you, monsieur, I am a man of quick temper.

Monsieur, you are insulting Nasasos Tunick, president of Emertia.

He is a nincompoop and a lecher as well. He looks like a nincompoop.

To dare to mention Napoleon in one breath.

Monsieur.

The only constant direction France has gone since Napoleon is downhill.

Oh, is that why you die of cirrhosis?

You hear what this foreign pig is calling us, huh?

You foreign pig. Pig!

Foreign pig!

Excuse me, excuse me, please, excuse me.

Illya? Unh!

- You... - Foreign pig!

You frog!

Thank you, my dear.

Ah, delicious. A delightful bouquet.

Hm.

Ah, good afternoon, gentlemen.

Good afternoon, sir.

- Mm, good afternoon. - Her name is Michele, Mr. Solo.

She's happily married and has two small children.

Hm, pity.

Your left ear looks a little puffy, Mr. Kuryakin.

- Nothing bothersome, I trust. - No, sir.

Uh, blessed are the peacemakers.

Uh, gentlemen, won't you join me?

Monsieur.

Cheers.

Bon appétit.

I, uh... I've had a full report...

about the little incident at the hotel this morning.

It was very skillfully arranged.

- Arranged? - By whom?

Malanez. The only reason for our being here in Paris.

I'm afraid I've lost you, sir.

Our briefing indicated that Malanez...

was President Tunick's closest friend and collaborator.

Quite so, Mr. Kuryakin.

That makes him number two in the affections of his country.

And I gather you think he wishes to be number one.

Precisely.

This is probably my day to be dense, sir...

but I don't see what Malanez can possibly gain...

by that brawl at the hotel.

Well, that's exactly what I want you and Mr. Solo to find out.

And remember, gentlemen...

whatever the plans of Mr. Malanez's are, he must not be permitted to succeed.

If he should seize power in his native country...

well, the whole of Africa will go up in flames.

"It was an altogether vulgar display on the part of the visiting popinjay."

"Vulgar and shameful.

President Tunick should have his mouth washed out with cheap California wine."

What's wrong with that? I like California wines.

Your Excellency, first you are publicly insulted by a French scoundrel.

You, the president of a sovereign state.

And now to compound the insult, these journalists of the gutter.

Besides, I shouldn't have allowed myself to be provoked.

Alas, I'm a creature of impulse.

My temper is too quick.

Oh, how I miss my dear Delphine.

She was the only one who knew how to manage me.

You are entirely too tolerant, Your Excellency.

Oh, my dear faithful friend. Ha, ha.

Tell me, can I blame a whole people...

because of one jackass and three editorial writers? Ha, ha.

- I'm a man of goodwill, am I not? - Yeah, too much so, Your Excellency.

- You intend going through with your visit? - Of course.

Now, my dear friend, if you'll excuse me...

I think my bath has been drawn.

Your Excellency.

It... It didn't work?

I could not even get him to raise his voice.

The one-time tiger has turned into a pussycat.

Then the plan. Perhaps, perhaps it will not work.

Never fear, Edgar.

By the time this afternoon is over...

he will hate the French with a passion so hot, it will sear his very soul.

- The placards, they are ready? - Yes.

- As are all the other ingredients, master. - Ripe ones, Edgar?

Very ripe. Ah. Something else.

The dark-haired man who came down the stairs...

trying to separate them when they were fighting...

- Yes. - And got knocked out?

He looked familiar to me and so I checked.

Napoleon Solo is his name.

He is an U.N.C.L.E. agent.

He stays here in the hotel?

Room 317.

We must not allow any flies to get into the proverbial ointment, Edgar.

I will see to it.

I trust you won't make any jokes about my name.

Perish the thought, Napoleon.

Magnificent, Malanez.

Awe-inspiring.

Truly a tomb befitting a great man.

For a Frenchman.

A man who rose from humble beginnings.

Like myself.

Exactly like myself.

Malanez.

Do I resemble him?

A bit, yes.

Maybe I'm a bit, uh, larger.

A few inches taller.

I've been told that, uh, the resemblance is remarkable.

Now that you mention it, yes.

Exactly like myself.

Like myself...

a man of humble beginnings...

he rose to become the leader of a great nation.

Of course, our country is not great yet.

But you and I...

we will make it so.

Yes, Your Excellency. You and I.

As you yourself so brilliantly observed, Your Excellency...

the French have only gone downhill since the death of Napoleon.

I only said it in a moment of pique.

They are still a people I greatly admire.

What is this?

- There he is! Get him! - What's going on here?

Get him! Get him!

Pelt him!

Get out! Get him!

Bull's eye! Foreigner!

That's it. Pelt him.

No, no, easy.

I gather you're the leader of this little group. Who's paying you?

Students do not get paid for this, monsieur.

We demonstrate for the sheer joy of it.

Pelt him! Get him! That's it.

- You don't look like a student to me. - You don't resemble a bellboy, monsieur.

Hey! Oui! Help!

You know, I don't think I really like this.

Yes, it is getting monotonous, isn't it?

If you will excuse me a moment, I'll see if your other uniform has come back.

Don't trouble yourself, Malanez. Edgar can telephone.

No trouble at all, Your Excellency. I'll join you in a moment.

What...? What has happened, sir?

Uh, an unfortunate accident.

It seems President Tunick came across some students...

who were majoring in protest.

I do not understand.

Ah, neither does the President. Tell...

Excuse me, mademoiselle, but would you mind turning your head a little?

I want to see your profile.

Is something wrong, monsieur?

No, on the contrary.

It's simply that you look remarkably like someone I used to know.

That person, I hope you have no unpleasant memories of her.

No.

Except that you are more beautiful and much younger.

- Thank you. - What is your name, my child?

I am Candyce, sir, at your service.

Excellent.

I believe that president left a uniform here to be cleaned.

It should be ready by now, no?

I shall look into it, monsieur, and see that it is delivered.

No, no. I want you to deliver it.

- Me? - Yes.

I know it isn't your ordinary function, but as a favor to me?

Of course, monsieur.

Ah, merci, Candyce.

But, Your Excellency, this young woman is the image of your revered wife.

It is as if she is a twin.

- Ha, a twin? - Yes.

A creature that even resembles my departed dove.

Ha, ha. Oh, Malanez, I've dreamed to find one.

But it's impossible.

Impossible.

It's no good, Malanez.

I appreciate your wish to relieve my loneliness.

But it's no good.

Excuse me, monsieur.

- Yes? - Is everyone covered with tomato?

- I beg your pardon? - President Tunick.

He too looked like a mixed green salad.

Well, we, uh, shared the same ride.

- Can there be more than one Mona Lisa? - Oh, forgive me, Your Excellency.

I did not mean to suggest that this woman possesses the incomparable qualities...

of the noble woman that you mourn.

- But there is a striking resemblance. - That's enough.

Let us turn our talk to other matters.

Have my medicine balls arrived yet? I need a workout.

I have the uniform for Monsieur President.

It cannot be.

Oh, but it is, monsieur. At first, I was afraid it wouldn't be ready.

- But... - My dove.

My little cardamon.

M-Monsieur?

Who are you?

Are you a reincarnation? Where did you come from?

I come from downstairs, monsieur.

I am Candyce.

- What was your last question? - Edgar.

I want you to call the best restaurant in Paris.

I shall want a private room for tonight.

With flowers, a veritable hothouse of flowers.

- And musicians and troubadours. - Yes, Your Excellency.

The other room, Edgar.

And you, my dear Malanez, if you don't mind.

Now, my little dove.

My little zephyr of Elysium.

Mm.

You and I must get better acquainted before the feast.

- Solo here. - Anything new?

Not a thing. How about your end?

I don't know how important it is...

but it seems like the beginning of a beautiful romance.

The Little Corporal has a date with that pretty receptionist at the desk.

Well, well, maybe things will liven up a little.

What was that?

Well, things have livened up a bit sooner than I thought.

You have, um, ahem...

a lot of interesting things going for you.

- Monsieur le President. - Is she here?

- The young lady? She has not yet arrived. - Has she arrived yet?

Oh.

But of course, it's only half past 8.

If you will follow me, Your Excellency, I will show you the arrangements.

These are the violinists, Monsieur le President.

A truly superb group of musicians.

All honor graduates from the Budapest Conservatory of Music.

She ought to be here by now.

Where is Monsieur President?

She ought to be here by now.

If you will excuse the impertinence, you know how it is with women.

For my wife to get ready, I sometimes have to wait for hours.

Uh, and now, Monsieur President...

if I may, a few words about the menu we have planned.

We thought to begin with a variety of superb, uh, Persian caviar...

which I am sure will whet the young lady's appetite.

No! No!

Take her. CANDYCE: No, no!

No!

Aah!

Oh, no.

Three, four, five, six, seven, eight...

I sent the musicians home, Your Excellency.

I cannot understand it.

She was so happy when I told her about the plans for this evening.

She said she felt like Cinderella.

The ways of women, Monsieur President, are not easily understood.

Take my wife, for example.

Excuse the impertinence, Your Excellency.

Psst.

I gather things went magnificently.

Ah, better than that, master.

The other U.N.C.L.E. agent, the blond one?

He tried to follow us.

And now he is a captive too.

Excellent, Edgar.

When I become president...

perhaps I will make you my chief of security.

- Would you like that, Edgar? - Yes.

Yes, I'd like that.

Provided the letter gets here.

It will be here within minutes.

Open Channel D.

Illya?

Illya?

Come in, Illya.

Open Channel H.

Oh, is that you, Mr. Solo?

Uh, yes, sir, uh, but I haven't been able to establish contact with Illya.

Oh. I understood he was to follow the girl.

That's right, uh...

The girl should be here in the restaurant by now and she's not.

I see.

Well, I would suggest that our friend Malanez...

would know something about that.

Yes, that, uh, thought had crossed my mind too, sir.

Yes. Well, try not to worry too much about Mr. Kuryakin.

You just stay with Tunick.

Then if it should become apparent that the girl had not appeared...

perhaps you could talk to the president.

He might be able to throw some additional light on the subject.

Ah.

- Good evening, Monsieur le President. - I do not wish to be dis...

Oh, you. You're the one that tried to help me at...

Please, it's not necessary. I just try to live by the golden rule.

- And this is a remarkable coincidence. - Is it?

Yes, I was just having my dinner, I'd finished...

I was on my way out and I happened to look in here.

I'm very grateful for your presence, Monsieur...?

Solo. Napoleon Solo.

Solo.

Monsieur Solo...

so I may thank you and also because, uh...

At this moment, I'm in need of a friend.

Oh, you're having, uh, some difficulty?

- An affair of the heart. - Ah. Ha, ha.

Ah, the most beautiful of young women, a dove.

- And a bird of paradise. - Hm.

Excuse me, Your Excellency, I was asked to deliver this to you.

Ah, it must be from her. She must be ill.

Or else she would be here. She must be ill.

Excuse me.

"Monsieur Tunick, I hope you did not get the impression this afternoon...

that I would possibly be attracted to you.

Though I am of humble birth myself...

I do not feel at home in the company of savages.

I agreed to the rendezvous only in the fear that if I did not...

you would commit some violence.

Candyce."

I'm certain there's some explanation.

Not now!

- I mean, you see, she may have... - Not now, leave me alone!

Well, all right, uh... Heh.

You write a very good letter, master.

Things could not have gone better.

Except this Solo fellow.

The bathroom, I thought he was supposed to be killed in the bathroom.

Yes, well, uh, perhaps he does not like to bathe.

Edgar, you have two prisoners now.

Why not make it three?

But this time, do not fail.

Yes. Yes, master.

Hm.

- Monsieur Solo? - Yes?

There's a gentleman outside who wants to see you.

- He says it's most urgent. - Hm, thank you.

- Hah! - Unh!

It's all my fault.

Oh, what a fool I was to want you to meet that, that creature.

- Words fail me. - Don't blame yourself, Malanez.

- You meant well. - No, no, no.

I should've known something like this would happen.

Oh, these French, they are masters of deceit.

My wife, Malanez.

She was French.

But Your Excellency, she is the exception.

- That proved the rule. - You're right.

Ever since we came here, there been a certain hostility in the air.

Hostility?

Oh, if only everyone were blessed with your patience, your stoicism.

Hostility, Your Excellency?

You have been systematically humiliated and insulted.

But the government itself received us well.

- You must agree to that. - But have they?

Tell me, Your Excellency.

Have they sent one representative of the French people...

to apologize for all of these indignities that you have suffered?

They could have at least done that.

But no.

Oh, these hypocrites that make up the French government.

Do you know what they're doing right now?

They're laughing at you.

No one laughs at Nasasos Tunick!

You will immediately dispatch a note to them...

demanding immediate satisfaction.

I want someone here from the French foreign ministry within the hour.

Do you understand, Malanez? This is an order.

Imagine for me to think, even for a moment...

that Monsieur Tunick was responsible for all this.

You really like him, don't you?

It was love at first sight. Such a masterful man.

And that Napoleonic look in his eyes, give me the shivers.

Hm?

- You having any luck with the ropes? - No.

I'm afraid our friend Edgar is an expert at tying knots.

Thank you.

I shall untie them now. At least yours and Mr. Solo's.

Uh, to what do we... Aah!

Owe this kindness?

Ah, it's no kindness. It's just that we have something else in store for you.

Something a bit more imaginative?

And don't forget to sneer.

And put more pucker in your lower lip.

Besides, sir, the French government is not in the business of matchmaking.

Good, good. That will do.

And don't forget to tell him about the squeak in his voice.

Oui, monsieur, certainement. Ha, ha.

A nation of louts. I'll show them!

Enter.

Mr. President, Consular Le Dier of the French foreign ministry.

I presume you're here to apologize on behalf of your government.

Apologize? For what?

For what?

The only constant thing I've found in Paris is rudeness.

Oh, that, sir, is a trait we reserve for visiting boors.

May I ask you to repeat what you said again?

Was boor your word?

Oh, from what I've heard, profligate would be better.

We get you foreign lechers by the dozens.

Tell me, sir...

do you think the French government is in the business of matchmaking...

for those who are too clumsy to find their own mates?

Obviously, sir, your romantic techniques are less than modern.

A week in one of our charm schools...

would be of tremendous benefit.

Charm school?

It might also remove the squeak from your voice.

Out! Out, you insolent oaf!

I'll have your resignation.

Mine is a lifetime position.

This is the last straw!

Oh, I wish I had the bomb.

I'd, I'd, I'd...

I'd defoliate their vineyards!

Malanez, tell me, does my voice squeak?

I beg your pardon?

Ooh... I'll squeak, all right. I'll squeak.

With cannon fire! This is war!

Unfortunately, our treasury will not permit it.

Oh, oh...

Think, Malanez. Think!

How we can repay them for their insolence.

Oh, I have it.

Blow up the Eiffel Tower!

No.

We can't do that.

It'll kill innocent children.

I... I don't want to...

I don't want to kill innocent children.

- I don't want to. - I have an idea.

Tell me.

It would strike fear and numbness into the heart of every Frenchman.

It would be suitable repayment for all the indignities that you have suffered.

Tell me.

It involves a friend of yours.

Napoleon's Tomb.

Hotel des Invalides.

- Main entrance and here we are. - Ha, ha.

Directly under the tomb.

We built the sub-basement ourselves.

Stealing Napoleon's tomb. Ha-ha-ha!

Right under their big noses.

- Masterly, Malanez, masterly. - I was sure you would approve.

Squeak, do I? Ha, ha! I'll make them all squeak.

Who cut your hair, Samson?

You'd better be careful, Mr. Kuryakin...

or it will become difficult for you.

You're not doing so well so far.

Tell him how ugly he is.

Nothing personal, but you really are the ugliest man I've ever seen.

Once again, I warn you.

Keep at it.

Tell me, Malanez, how did you...?

How did you do all this so quickly?

Your Excellency, knowing the French as I do...

I never doubted the kind of reception we would get.

And knowing you as I do, a veritable lion among men...

I knew that eventually, you would stop turning that other cheek.

I put this plan in motion long before we left for Paris.

- Malanez, you are a genius. - Oh.

What do you use for food? Tintacks?

- Hey, ugly. - That does it.

Aha.

Three, four...

five, six, seven...

eight, nine...

Go, Illya.

- Twenty, 21... - Jump at him.

- Twenty-one. - Aha.

- The bung starter. Get it. - Oh!

Twenty-three, twenty-four...

- Hit him. - Aah!

I'm proud of you.

It was nothing, really.

Oh, thank you. Thank you, monsieur.

Come on.

I hope you didn't hit him too hard.

Men like that, how can you hit him too much?

Well, you got a point there.

Hope he comes to. He's got some talking to do.

I'll take Candyce back to the hotel.

At least she can reassure Tunick she didn't write that note.

Oh, yes, I must talk to him. Oh, poor, poor Monsieur Tunick.

Come on, little man, wake up.

Come on, wake up. Come on!

Tell me, Malanez, eh? Uh, where is it?

Where is he going to be taken?

Through the Métro. In a stolen subway train.

The spur track is already down now.

At 3:00, in precisely 23 minutes...

Napoleon Bonaparte will be yours.

If you will excuse me, Your Excellency.

Where are you going?

I have to take care of some final details.

- The subway train. - Very good.

These men know exactly what to do.

- You are in excellent hands. - I know that.

I'm grateful to you, Malanez.

Everlasting grateful. Thank you.

President Tunick.

Candyce.

I hate to wake him up at this time in the morning, but it's urgent.

But he is not here, monsieur.

He left not an hour ago with Monsieur Malanez.

Oh. Have you any idea where they went?

Uh, no.

It must have been a matter of some importance.

But Monsieur Malanez should be back momentarily...

according to those gentlemen of the press over there. Hm.

Can you imagine?

Calling a press conference at 3:00 in the morning?

Now?

No!

- Have you reconsidered? - All right, all right.

You've made a wise decision.

This will be...

the final humiliation for the president.

He will be made laughing stock all over the world.

And then Malanez, he will take over the government.

- Yes? - Tunick has left.

And something big is about to break. Malanez has called a press conference.

Uh, just a minute. Where is Tunick?

At Napoleon's Tomb.

- Where? - Napoleon's...

Napoleon's Tomb.

What's he doing there?

- He's stealing it. - He wha...? He what?

I suggest you and Candyce get over to Napoleon's Tomb right away.

The sub-basement. I'll see you there.

Right. Have you ever been to Napoleon's Tomb?

No, it is something for tourists. I live in Paris all of my life.

Oh. Well, you're about to see it now, I hope.

- The members of the press. - Over there, monsieur.

Gentlemen?

I deeply regret routing you out of your beds at this hour of the morning...

but what I have to tell you, I'm sure you will find of great interest.

You may sit if you choose, but I will be brief.

I have a great sense of loyalty to the president of my country...

Nasasos Tunick.

But I have a great responsibility to all humanity.

Gentlemen, I must report with deep regret that my president...

and my friend, has lost his senses.

His senses, monsieur?

Despite all of my entreaties, at this very moment...

Nasasos Tunick is in the process of stealing Napoleon's tomb.

- Oh, stealing Napoleon's tomb? - Oui, monsieur.

- Monsieur... - I know it is hard to believe...

but you have only to go there and see for yourself.

An emergency call for you, Monsieur Malanez.

Excuse me, gentlemen.

- Yes? - Master, they have escaped.

Solo is on his way to Napoleon's Tomb right now.

What?

Never mind, go to the tomb at once. I shall be there in a moment.

Yes, master.

Excuse me, gentlemen, but I must rush off.

If you will meet me at Napoleon's Tomb in 15 minutes...

you will see the truth of what I have told you.

Careful, my children, handle it with care. This is no ordinary prize.

- All right, hold it. - You? You again?

I haven't got time. Call the whole thing off.

- What are you saying? - Just call it off.

- You've been duped, Monsieur President. - Call it off?

Look, you've got to. You've got...

You're not gonna thwart my plans. I want my revenge.

Don't let him up. Don't let him up!

- Aah! CANDYCE: Monsieur President.

You? It is all too much for me.

Monsieur President, I did not write that letter.

You see, uh, uh, uh... It was a...

What is it? What is it? Okay.

- All right. - Is it coming out?

There's a down button. There must be an up button.

My Candyce told me everything.

That Malanez. If only I get my hands on him!

That Malanez.

All right, we'll talk about that later. We've got to get Napoleon back up.

- You have any ideas? TUNICK: I've no mechanical aptitude.

It is much too late, gentlemen.

Are you all drunk? Don't you know the tomb is closed?

We are the press. It is essential that we go in.

- Why? - To see if Napoleon is still there.

Oh, oh!

Please, we have reason to believe he may not be.

- Come on, let us in. - Oh, you must be drunk.

You stay where you are. I shall go look.

It has taken me eight years.

Eight years of gargantuan patience.

Years of listening to your nonsense and your bluster.

Eight years, Your Excellency.

To maneuver you into this noose.

You didn't spend all that time just planning, though.

- Did you? - No.

There were times when I acted.

As with the president's wife.

You killed her, didn't you?

Yes. It was a very slow poison.

Impossible to detect.

I didn't really want to kill her because I was very fond of Mrs. Tunick.

But she threatened to get in the way.

I'll kill you! I'll kill you!

He's gone! Napoleon is gone! He's gone! He's gone!

Maybe, just maybe.

Your breath. Let me smell it, huh?

Just as I thought. Ha, ha, ha.

Precious dove.

Spice of my life.

My sweet seraph from Elysium.

- Oh, Nasasos. - Oh.

Call me Sassy.

Ahem, may I propose a toast?

May I recommend petit four, or perhaps, uh...

- Haven't I seen you before? - Me, monsieur?

The heckler at the hotel.

Wait a minute. That demonstration at the Invalides.

You!

You were the one from the foreign office.

You said my voice squeaked.

Oh, it was nothing personal, Your Excellency.

Merely part of my job.

Hm. What are you doing here?

Well, you see, monsieur, uh, now that my, uh, last employer...

is no longer with us...

I had to, uh, return to a less rewarding occupation.

A man has to make a living, monsieur.

As I was saying, monsieur and mademoiselle...

to the Little Corporal.

Which one?

Napoleon Bonaparte.

May he rest in peace.