Secrets of a Ballerina (Un seul amour)

Us: Secrets of a ballerina literal: A single love

The director is expecting me.

The director is in conference, sir.

I'll wait.

Madame.

Dear sir.

Madame...

Here is your great-aunt,

valued today at 60,000f

by an expert.

The opera, in accepting Clara biondi's legacy,

has insured this canvas for 10,000f.

- What was the year? - 1826.

It was 50 years ago.

Géricault was still about.

What about the ingres, sir?

The ingres...

Less.

Much less.

Here you are.

- Is this Clara biondi? - Yes.

And...?

The count de clergue, her husband. Of course!

These are two sketches by ingres, indeed.

Where are the paintings? At chateau de clergue.

We are going there shortly. Ah.

You will lend them to me

for the fiftieth anniversary exhibition? Yes.

But mention in a caption in the catalogue:

"Collection gontran de la tournelle."

Of course.

- Director sir. - Goodbye.

Madame, monsieur.

Dear madame.

If you knew how successful it's been already with the public,

my project for the fiftieth anniversary of the death of Clara biondi.

They'll be packed in like sardines, in the foyer de da dance, with all these mementos.

Your exhibition will launch my book.

Have you found a title, at last?

Yes. 'A single love'.

Banal, perhaps, but rigorously accurate.

Indeed.

"It is a singular love that suddenly delighted her worshippers",

as musset said so beautifully.

"If you want no more to dance, if you want no more to pass

on this great sombre theater,

do not chase after your shadow

and leave it with us."

Do you have any other mementoes,

- madame? - Yes.

You will take care of them?

Insured, according to the experts.

- Two slippers. - Ah...

Her little feet were inside these...

An umbrella.

A fan.

How moving...

When will your book appear?

I have a meeting about that, at home, with my editor.

- Is the editor there? - Yes, sir.

The president of the commission of inquiry

urgently requests your financial report.

Since when is a commission of inquiry in such a rush?

This will end in a mistrial! We are in the Republic.

The permission to print...

You were supposed to send me this morning the permission to print the book!

I'll ask it again in a few days.

Why?

We are ready to make great strides.

My wife has just recently come into possession

of chateau de clergue, near vendome,

that she has inherited from her great-aunt, Clara biondi,

who died 50 years ago,

left to her by virtue

of a testamentary provision,

50 years later on the condition it was on her death.

50 years later? What an odd idea.

It was a refuge of unique happiness.

It is not for us to judge certain peculiarities.

But, proud of my method and sure of my flair,

I hope to find there documents for my work as a historian,

that I may be unassailable and complete.

But not too many corrections...

My conscience will be the sole judge. Of course.

On that, I am not

keen about your title,

'a single love'.

No, nobody. It is the only one that will do.

That may be, but 'a single love'...

It won't grab people.

It's too well-mannered, it doesn't bed-hop.

The public want adventure.

Classy, but a page-Turner.

You are considering corrections,

so come up with something better, go on.

Make it a romantic life. This will never do.

Success will be guaranteed.

There's something more important than success:

It's the truth.

It's not commercial... But it's the truth!

Petit, I have for the science of accuracy

a taste that my training as a polytechnician confirmed.

An amateur historian, I could give a lesson in objectivity

to professional historians.

What, again?

- The gentleman insists. - No.

He's come on behalf of Mr. de baquére.

Ah? Show him in.

I'll take my leave.

I'll see you on my return. Meaning?

- 5 days, at most. - Very well.

But don't you...

Oh, but I'm not worried.

Sir...?

Sir, it's Mr. de baquere, at the inspection of finances...

Yes. What's bothering him? Some letters.

What letters? 2 letters which...

Excuse me. Godéne fils, antiquarian.

112, rue de chateaudun.

May interest you, according to mr de baquére, who's read them.

You are a relative of the famous dancer Clara biondi, apparently.

Grand-nephew by my wife.

I hope...

Well, these two letters, in perfect condition,

are addressed to Clara biondi, 24, rue vignon.

That was indeed her address. The postmarks are illegible.

Ah, these are two letters from the king of Sweden.

I mention them in my book. Thank you, sir.

The king of Sweden? No, sir. No.

See the coat of arms on the postmark.

A spurred chicken.

Indeed, a chicken.

A chicken.

Well then, from who?

From a certain James, a foreigner. Undoubtedly her lover at that time.

What?

Must have been an english officer. With that forename.

From the army of occupation in 1815.

Sir, I...

- Let's see. - Gladly.

The first is a short note where this James, in desperation, asks her for 50 Louis.

A gambling debt, no doubt.

A forgery. It's a forgery.

And I can prove it by the date:

"18th march 1815."

On 18th march 1815, sir, Clara biondi was dancing in Vienna,

where she met the count de clergue,

collaborator of the prince de talleyrand.

Gérard de clergue, her single love.

Which one?

She hasn't made her entrance yet.

We were too early.

Here she is.

What a face.

Yes.

Later, we'll go and see her behind the scenes,

if you like.

Yes.

Excellency.

Look.

"Escaped from the island of elba"?

Impossible.

With him, anything is possible.

Your arm, clergue.

I should have held fast

and had this Bonaparte deported

to one of the islands of the azores,

500 leagues from any land.

What to do now?

Catch him and hang him.

Excuse me.

Tomorrow, clergue, you leave for Paris.

- The place... - Mind out.

Don't barge in on the prince de talleyrand like this.

Make yourself known.

But to who? There's nobody about.

Vienna is in turmoil.

No, not there.

Allow me.

Oh, see here...

I'm leaving Vienna in an hour.

For your final instructions, where can I find you?

In bed.

Who let you in? Get out.

- Come on. - But...

Come in.

Clergue?

Clergue? Do you hear me, clergue?

Clergue?

You'll have to excuse me, prince.

An important visit has just been announced.

Who? Who?

Highness.

- You're overstating it. - Bishop.

No.

Prince?

It doesn't matter.

But... what can I say?

We do not have the honour. To know of you.

You, no, sir. Miss, yes.