All language subtitles for Nicolas.Le.Floch.S04E03.The.Rue.des.Francs-Bourgeois.Case.Part.1.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DD+2.0.H.264-playWEB_track3_[eng]

THE RUE FRANCS-BOURGEOIS CASE

Mortemare, look what
destiny has brought us today?

What providence.

You're done for, scoundrel!

Your companions, too.

Commissioner, what say you?

Next time,
don't try to make it so real.

It had to look credible.

You're forgiven, Mortemare.

At your service, sir.

Let me clarify, Mr. Policeman.

I was just offering
medical aid to a wealthy person.

I can see that.

You sent the patient

to kingdom come
and made sure to rob him first.

The doctor wanted to assist you.

We'll hear your case tomorrow,

with all the due care
you intended us.

Take them to the jail.
Make them both feel welcome.

Gentlemen...

I feared your head was broken.

Without your precautions,
it was.

Thanks, Bourdeau.

Mr. de Sartine got the idea
of lighting the city.

To discourage crime, he says.

Even though that's what puts
bread on our tables.

He's pulling the rug out
from under our feet.

If you don't mind, Bourdeau,

it's time for me
to make an appearance.

You're going out a lot lately.

Sir!

A great calamity has happened.

Your son Geoffroy
and his daughter...

- What, St-Jean?
- Dead, sir.

They're both dead.

- Where's Madam Justine?
- In her room,

with your sister and two nurses.

Madam Justine still lives,

the poison precipitated
the child's delivery.

The poison... What do you mean?

I don't know, Your Honor.

The nurses said that. They know.
I'm only repeating it.

Then the King said, "In the
event of victory I deserve it,

"in the event of defeat,
I need it."

We no longer expected you, Marquis.

Welcome.

Chevalier d'Arcq
was relating a droll tale,

which has the undeniable appeal
of mocking our King,

his cousin.

I asked his Majesty
for 8,000 livres,

which, on a whim,
I needed desperately.

He drafted me a note,

a credit to draw cash
against the royal treasure.

When I saw the total,
I added a zero.

I withdrew 80,000.

Is it a crime of lese-majesté
that merits punishment?

So what do you think
happened next?

Divulged to the King,
he found it most amusing

and resolved the predicament
with an adroit declaration.

In my position,
I can't overpay a lesson.

It'll teach me to be
less frugal with the alphabet.

Madam? What's wrong?

Hortense...

Madam de Vartelle seems to have
suddenly lost what little wits

the Creator gave her.

My friend, would you be
so kind as to help me home?

My carriage is yours, Madam.

For once,
you're being chivalrous.

Come, Madam.

I'll help you out.

Guillaume...

What's that racket?

Madam de Vartelle fell ill
at Madam de Crequy's salon.

It seemed minor at first,

but on the way
she started convulsing.

A doctor!

I summoned the best on the way.
He'll be here shortly.

Hortense, wake up...
Hortense, I beg you, wake up!

Take Madam de Vartelle
to her room.

Your agony is wondrous and
stupefying, Minister-Counselor.

Especially knowing
the sternness of your character,

as well as the implacability
of your rulings.

I can do without your
embarrassing solicitude, sir,

you've no reason to remain.

Celestine, call my son so he can
help his wife in her distress.

That will be difficult.

- Mr. Aimé went out.
- Have him found!

No matter where he is!

My brother,
this is young Exupère,

your grandson, born healthy.

He couldn't have been born
at a worse time.

- Madam, his mother?
- Alas...

...the poor soul has succumbed.

And my daughter-in-law,
Hortense?

Her condition worsens.

I fear that without prompt care,
she has only moments to live.

The doctor!

Here's the doctor.

Mr. St-Germain!

Why are you in my house, Count?

I've come to work miracles.

I know you have reservations, Counselor,

but I'm an expert
in metal science,

and can save poison victims
who still have a chance.

Who summoned you?

My dear friend,
Philippe-Auguste de Sainte-Foy,

named Chevalier d'Arcq

for his bravery at the battle
of Fontenoy by his cousin,

King Louis XV.

Well, sir,

whether young Madam de Vartelle
lives or dies is in your hands.

My God, sir, do you presume

you need to speak metaphorically
when addressing a bluestocking?

So, sir,
please tell me the truth.

The truth, Madam...

I was married, my young friend.

I know of all those things that
a man and woman do in nature,

for mutual satisfaction.
The truth?

The truth, Madam...

...is that
from the moment I saw you...

...you haunt my days.

You inflame my nights.

If your plumage
equals your warbling...

You are the phoenix
of the forest's finest.

Hearing these words the crow
felt great joy.

He opened his mouth wide
and let... my heart fall out.

My heart is all yours.

As far as the heart's concerned,
we'll see later.

For now, I'll content
myself with the rest.

The Lieutenant-General...

- ...Wants to see me, I presume?
- Yes.

Anything wrong, Bourdeau?

No, you seem tired,
you've a new conquest?

- Why would that trouble you?
- No trouble.

As long as you've none.

Sometimes going out
gives a reason to return.

A son, a daughter-in-law
and a granddaughter,

fate seems
to have sorely tested you.

Fate?

I don't believe in fate.

I'd no forewarning
from an assassin.

But might not these deaths
have been due to

some unfortunate accidents,
not criminal acts?

I will seek
the crime's perpetrator, sir.

Here.

Look at this.

Shiver, unfortunate,

you betrayed me by aligning
your colleagues against me,

and I now declare
a war to the death.

You and yours
will perish in succession,

as my hate is so strong your
death alone will not suffice.

By Jove!

The tone sounds ominous.

I will strike without warning.

I number among
your many victims.

I will be very difficult
to detect.

Very difficult indeed.

You know

I'm well known as a widow maker
and very stern judge.

I'm well aware. But you're
also known as a solid man,

very virtuous and loyal,

unbending and incorruptible
in his austere position.

Only rigor prevents corruption.

The rigor that ignores pity,
Lieutenant-General.

Incorruptible. Pitiless.

Investigate the case, Commissioner.

I've no doubt Mr. de Montault
will cooperate fully.

Commissioner, a few drops
remain in this carafe.

It seems to be currant brandy.

There are some glasses
used to serve it.

It was very hot
yesterday before the storm.

- Everybody drank plenty.
- Everybody?

Everybody, the Mr. and Mrs.,
the child and Madam de Vartelle.

- Madam de Vartelle, too?
- Yes, her too.

She left soon after
to visit a friend.

Who discovered the scene?

Cries and shivering attracted
my attention

to Mr. Geoffroy's room.

- I came to knock.
- Try to be brief.

The bodies must be
delivered to the morgue,

so they may be examined
as soon as possible.

Do so, sir.

As well, we must search
and question everyone here.

Go ahead, Commissioner.

We'll start with you,
Minister-Counselor.

As a criminal magistrate,

you're well aware of the demands
and rigor of the process.

And I will submit
to them all, sir.

My sister,
Madam Héloïse de Montault.

- How is she?
- Recovering slowly.

As soon as she awoke, she wanted
young Exupère by her side.

She swore to God to love him
as a mother, not an aunt.

- She'll raise him with Ambroise.
- With Ambroise?

Who's Ambroise, sir?

Madam de Vartelle's first child.

Come with me.

Aimé, what are you doing here?

Instead of sitting by your
wife's bedside as ordered.

I was looking
for a few papers I lost.

Get out, sir.

Go where duty alone should
have dictated, if not affection.

For lack of anyone better,

I sometimes employ he
who I hesitate to call a son

for minor tasks, which he
performs with great difficulty.

Delivering documents
and other minor tasks.

Can you name
all who live in this house?

I was expecting your question, Commissioner.

Accordingly,
I drew up this list,

where each is listed
by social standing and role.

Thank you.

According to
Mr. de Sartine's theory,

when a murder occurs in
a family, to solve it quickly,

the police should simply arrest
all the victim's relations.

I would like you to organize
a dinner at your convenience,

but promptly, where each
of the parties would be invited

so that I may get an idea
of the whole household.

Aimé, when will you stop living
such a libertine lifestyle?

It exasperates your father.

Aunt?

Save your strength to comfort
your wife who needs you.

Go quickly.

Aimé?

Try to look more respectable.

There's no doubt
she died of poisoning.

- None?
- No, none.

The rest of the syrup
in the carafe you sent

leaves no doubt either.

The presence
of a toxic substance persists.

Apparently heavily dosed, too.

Usually, when poisoned
with a potion deadly to man,

these animals die in 5 minutes.

With this poison,
they died within seconds.

But according to you,
someone survived?

- And seemingly will survive.
- Poisons can be capricious.

Someone gave her
a powerful antidote.

Does that someone have a name?

That someone
is the Count de St-Germain.

Having questioned the servants,

from the steward
to the housekeeper,

the coachman
to the kitchen staff

and porters, none knew anything,

but each wanted to express their
deep feeling for their master.

Admittedly, Mr. de Montault
seems to be an exceptional one,

both for his gentleness
and benevolent eye.

Quite a contrast
with his public façade

and the kind of father
he seems to be.

Yes, indeed.

As for the house...

...not just anybody
or anything gets in.

Poultry come from the farmyard,
vegetables from the garden,

only meat and fish
are ordered from outside.

One of your mad ideas, Nicolas,

another of those whims that help
your business. But it's risky.

Count de St-Germain
is a favorite of the King.

If you won't agree to a summons,
I'll take a lettre de cachet.

A lettre de cachet?

Unsigned!

One exonerating you
from any deeds,

which will give me crucial
evidence for my investigation.

Meaning?

The type of poison
used for the crimes.

Since La Voisin, poisoning
has become too notorious.

I wouldn't want police
negligence to bear the blame.

Look, now the Queen
herself is getting involved.

She wants to receive the Marquis
de Ranreuil posthaste.

Me and my limited resources,

if she wants to silence
the affair, what else can we do?

Please prepare me
a lettre de cachet, sir.

Please.

No, Commissioner,
not by my hand.

By yours, however,
unknown to me.

Get going.
They're waiting for you.

I shouldn't interfere in a
criminal investigation, Marquis.

There are exceptions
to every rule, Your Majesty.

I was told
you're very stringent.

My nature is so inclined
and my job requires it.

What do you know
of Madam de Vartelle, Marquis?

Not much, Your Majesty.

Did you know she is a kind soul,
pious yet not devout?

Generous, yet not a spendthrift,
and exceedingly tender.

She was rendered sterile
giving birth to her only child.

Hortense de Vartelle directs
a charity to supply nurses,

which I sponsor.

Do you also have a kind soul,
Your Majesty?

Are you a flatterer or impudent?

I neither know nor care.

What do you want to tell me by
citing those qualities, Majesty?

I want you to devote
your attention to this case.

Naturally, Your Majesty.

My friend, you look displeased.

I answer to the King,
not the Queen.

I don't want
my investigation meddled with.

Don't be mistaken, Nicolas,
though the King is distant,

he is most intrigued
by this case.

Mr. de Montault holds
a high office.

His Majesty considers him one
of the few men in the kingdom

who actually supports

his mostly unpopular policies.

In parliament,
Mr. de Montault is crucial.

His word is law.

His fall would foment
chaos, disorder and sedition.

A plot where poison was used?

I don't think so, my friend.

The pest.

For once, her timing is good.

I'd like to visit my friend,
Madam de Vartelle, if you allow.

I allow it with all my heart.
Make yourself at home, Madam.

Although I'm in mourning,
I hope your visit is pleasant.

How is she?

Like a child, shaken
at seeing the face of death.

But she's strong
and seems to be getting better.

Show the Duchess the way,
my friend.

I have to go to parliament
to see to my duties.

This way, Duchess.

That nurse is useless, Auntie.

We need
to find another wet nurse.

I'll take care of it.
Rest now, Hortense.

Temporary relief
can sometimes cause harm.

Dear friend...

Your presence is a Godsend.

Figs for sale!

Figs...

They're nice and juicy.

Aunt, what's 200 livres to you?

Not much, I agree.

- However...
- However, I'm a heartless rogue

with no feelings.

Well, I agree!

A cynical libertine,
I thoroughly enjoy my conquests.

Do you not fear retribution,
dear child?

I fear nothing, Aunt.

Yes, I fear that
as punishment for my sins,

the Superior Being will
bar me from his stupid Heaven.

Madam!

There's a fig vendor
below your window.

Figs, Aunt,
there's nothing I like better.

- You enjoy gobbling them up too.
- No, I never liked figs.

Come!

Fine figs for sale!

- How are they?
- Very sweet.

How much are they?

Two sous, good lady.

Tie your basket.

Now get lost.

Scram!

What are you doing, Mortemare?

No fly will beat me to shit.

The gypsy's dead.

Hearing of ill luck at
the Montault's, I stood watch.

I saw a big fellow in the King's
uniform approach the gypsy.

At first, I suspected
underhanded business,

but the soldier gave him
a basket of figs

and gave instructions
pointing at the window.

He shouted "Figs for sale."

A woman and her dandy son-in-law
appeared on the balcony.

They made a deal.

They raised
the basket on a rope,

then the young gypsy
returned here.

The soldier sprang
and slew him without a word.

Take him to the morgue.

No, I've customers for him.

No, take him to the morgue.

I'll warn the household.

Another great misfortune
just struck, Mr. Aimé.

This way, sir.

Mr. de Montault
is by his bedside.

I didn't know
you were so sensitive.

Knocking me out, so I repent!

Don't insult God.

Get away!

Help me hold him!

I'll appear as I lived.

Aimé, my love.

You old witch! Get away from me!

My brother...

I know your basic tenets, Commissioner.

However,
the list of suspects has shrunk.

Besides my sister-in-law,
Madam de Vartelle who is unwell,

there's only my sister Héloïse
and my eldest son, Henri.

And yourself.

And me.

My son, Henri de Montault,
Bishop of Tarbes.

I heard the news.

I'm entirely at your disposal, Commissioner,

for any investigation
you deem necessary.

Only the secrets of the
confessional cannot be revealed.

Naturally, sir.

If you don't mind, father, I'll
return to my brother's bedside.

Sir...

Have you any reason
to believe your son Aimé

could be somehow implicated

in the fatal attack on his
brother Geoffroy and his family?

The father refuses to think so.

The magistrate thinks otherwise.

Does that apply for the three
family members still present?

I don't see how my son Henri,
my sister or daughter-in-law

would have the slightest motive
to take anyone's life.

Why's that?

The first for his piety,

the other for her goodness...

Yes?

It's over, sir.

You asked me
to organize a dinner, sir,

to allow you to acquaint
yourself with my house.

Now that seems superfluous.

A last question, sir.

A hefty soldier

who was a servant
or in his Majesty's dragoons?

Does that ring a bell,

Minister-Counselor?

Are you cold, Madam?

No, I'm just apprehensive.

What do you fear?

The moment
you'll stop desiring me.

It'll happen one day, won't it?

For now,
you please me well, Nicolas.

Your passion and tenderness
make you childlike.

I'm no child anymore, Madam,
it's just as well.

A bad boy caught
with his hands in the jam jar.

The jar, Madam, my fingers...

Your desire seems boundless...

Do you love me, Nicolas?

What are you doing here,
my friend?

What state are you in?

If you knew, sir, a grave danger
hangs over your house.

Last night, I saw your son
Geoffroy in a dream.

He warned me his brother
was in grave danger

and I didn't want
to believe him.

Your son Aimé is dead.

His shadow just fought
with me on the stairs.

A shadow fought you?

I knew him!

Mr. Aimé was severe
with the servants.

He promised worse if I didn't
confess to you immediately.

Well then?

Sir,

you have to get little Exupère
far away from here.

He's in mortal danger.

No, Minister Counselor, I refuse
to believe in a fighting shadow,

or a message
from beyond the grave.

I don't either.

But the bruising from
the fight was very realistic.

The stick doesn't
have to be a ghost's.

Did you mention this to anyone?

No, Commissioner.

Don't confide in anyone,
let me tell you what's needed.

Flowers for you?

Decidedly, you're being spoiled.

Spoiled?
It's worse than you think.

Despite this plant's
innocent appearance,

and the profusion
of them in our gardens,

it conceals a powerful toxin.

Hellebore, also known
as Christmas rose.

I can assert the same substance
killed Geoffroy de Montault

and his wife and daughter.

As for poor Aimé de Montault,

he succumbed
to a massive dose of arsenic,

which a wicked hand introduced
under the skin of the figs.

- Two poisons.
- So maybe two wicked hands.

The left and right.

Maybe it's time
to watch the Montault house,

to make sure he's not hiding.

Commissioner.

I made a lovely
chicken fricassee for you,

presented on diced vegetables
for a real repast.

- Bring us bread too.
- It's glazed with butter

to a golden brown
and served hot.

That's a good way to disguise
yesterday's fricassee.

Don't get offended.

At this hour, everything
seems good in the storm.

Bring on the wine.

He sells fabric.

How come Mortemare's late?

I've no idea.

A chicken aspic...

What's that?

A threatening letter.

We've been looking
too hard for a few clues.

I've been waiting.

If you want a bawdy wench too,

this one's as firm
in the behind as in the leg.

For this sum, who must I kill?

Madam, please let me share
my condolences for your loss.

There's so little we can do.

Only our Lord rules over us all.

May I ask a question, Madam?

Did you love your husband?

A woman's supposed
to love her husband, sir.

Célestine.

Take these gloves
to the Monsignor.

Clean them.

Yes, Madam.

Don't wait for
a tip from the prelate.

Though a monsignor,
he's still a man.

They took him, Madam,
and ran off like animals.

What could I do, Madam?

Thief, if I didn't
restrain myself I'd slap you!

That's enough, Hortense.

I understand your distress.

There's no consoling
a mother who's lost her child,

but there's no need
to make a spectacle.

Héloïse, help Hortense to her
room, and take good care of her.

Was it really necessary, Commissioner,

in your quest for truth,

to cause poor Madam de Vartelle
such suffering?

Come, Madam, console yourself.

They'll give him back.

- Who'd hurt such a little baby?
- I don't know.

Maybe the criminal
who's besieging this house.

To be continued...

Translation: Épilogue