The Last Mistress (Une vieille maîtresse)

THE LAST MISTRESS

Paris, February 1835

In the age of Chaderlos de Laclos...

My dear...

You've grasped me by the only handle left to me,

the supreme passion,

that locks out all the others,

the cardinal sin of gluttony.

Sadly.

The only sin left, the last one.

Indeed!

They're the delights of Capua!

But Hannibal mustn't linger on those delights.

No, I'll go to Canossa for you. I promise.

Or more precisely to 46 rue des Carmes, at Senora Vellini's.

So that species has a name?

Yes, she's Spanish,

born in 1799 in Malaga,

So that...

So that... she's 36 years old.

A good age to make way for another.

Has your best friend the Marquise de Flers,

lost her mind?

What has this Marigny done to her?

He's a womanizer and a gambler, and penniless...

I know...

And she lets him many her wealthy granddaughter?

The jewel of the French aristocracy! That's the limit!

She, who was always so wise, has taken leave of her senses!

She should marry him herself!

Hold your tongue!

It's the talk of the town, dear friend!

Here we are - 46 rue des Cannes.

I shall inform the Senora

of the wedding of Miss de Polastron to her beloved Marigny

and I hope to provoke quite a scandal.

If it managed to dash this marriage,

you'd pleasure me more than you ever did.

Such ingratitude!

Monsieur de Prony!

In person.

How fares my pretty?

- Is the Senora at home to visitors? - Yes, sir.

I'll keep the stick, I need it.

Monsieur de Prony, Madame.

Well, then... So how is the Goddess of Capriciousness?

You're just as capricious, Viscount.

You used to visit me,

you came often.

You seemed to hold me in your affection. Then basta!

One fine day, you disappeared without warning.

I was taking the waters, my dear...

Taking the waters, for two whole years?

You're not in earnest, Viscount!

Anyway, it hasn't done much for your gout!

None of us are getting any younger, my dear!

You still see Monsieur de Marigny?

Certainly.

Is it long since his last visit?

He comes when he pleases, he is free...

Do many people meet every day after ten years?

Ten years of a less than perfect fidelity.

Neither of us has been faithful.

It's been an unusual relationship.

With more hate than love.

All the better!

I'd be sorry to see you unhappy.

Are you aware of Monsieur de Maligny's forthcoming wedding?

Don't worry.

With each woman he has had, in your world or mine,

people ran to tell me.

Twice if not once.

He'll come back to me, as always.

This time it's more than a love affair,

it's a marriage.

Well...

If you insist,

it's a love affair and a marriage,

but it's not an ending.

An ending

to the liaison between Marigny and myself,

there is none, Monsieur de Prony!

So you're unfaithful tonight,

to your lovely fiance, Monsieur de Marigny?

You're not at Madame de Flers?

No, sir. Nor are you at Madame d'Artelles's.

I dined there.

What's the matter?

Nothing...

See how you lie.

Leave me, Ryno!

- Leave me... - Not on your life.

Why do you want to escape me?

What did that viper of a Viscount say

to put you in such a fluster?

Nothing I didn't already know.

It's just that he took such delight in telling me.

You're hurting yourself.

You pay too much attention to people and their unkind words.

What do they know about you and I?

What can they understand about us?

Nothing...

They understand nothing...

He won't come now, it's past midnight.

- He might yet arrive. - What if he did?

If he found you here, he'd know you had waited for him.

Where would that get us?

Never let men rule you.

The most sincere love isn't devoid of conceit.

Your grandmother is right.

It's his loss. Go to bed like a good girl,

and tomorrow, act with coolness toward him.

Pretend to be uninterested in him.

Now she has retired, allow me to predict

that she'll be incapable of the slightest stratagem.

She already loves him too much.

What's wrong with loving the man she'll many in a week?

We are not old for nothing, my dear.

You know as well as I do

that one must never give a man the certainty of conquest.

That young girls, and even their mothers,

are taken in,

is a law of our species.

We would never become mothers,

if we were clear-sighted.

But when even grandmothers

are fooled by this pitiful comedy of seduction...

It's because I'm much younger than my age.

I was charmed and mesmerized like the others,

and so happy about it, dear Countess,

that your bad auguries

have no power to weaken my optimism.

What you're saying is most grave.

He has turned your head more than hers.

Hasn't he?

Here, have a cup.

To pick you up.

It's no laughing matter, I assure you.

Have you no remorse, on the eve of this wedding,

of marrying your granddaughter to a mere gentleman without title,

a penniless adventurer.

She's rich enough for both of them.

What's more, he's an unbridled libertine,

who has no scruples in compromising his conquests.

You and I belong to the age of Laclos.

An age when such matters were easily forgiven.

The young people we knew, and loved,

were far worse than those of today,

and yet we didn't become old maids.

Our mothers had the courage to marry us to some dreadful rascals,

and we had the brazen good luck to be quite happy.

You can talk - you bewitched the Marquis de Flers.

Hermangarde is prettier than I was, shell manage.

She doesn't have your talent for strategy.

In love, the first to suffer has lost.

She's already trapped.

Hermangarde is what I cherish most.

Would I let her navigate alone

on the ocean of perfidy that is men's hearts? No.

This marriage will be my masterpiece.

Your masterpiece!

You're even madder than they say.

Goodbye, my friend.

And where might he be this evening?

He has a mistress, dear Marquise.

He has had for ten years.

Only you and I were unaware of it until now.

I hate you.

You'll come back to me, Ryno.

I say it without a trace of joy,

without pride,

without triumphant jealousy.

You'll trample on the girl you're marrying and come back to me.

I've never loved anyone as I love her.

Not even you, Vellini.

The feelings you stirred in my heart at 20,

she has revived in a heart of 30,

which is old and worn.

You don't cheat on the one you love with someone you no longer love.

Is that what you believe?

I warned you this evening meant goodbye.

So goodbye.

May what you say be true...

Oliva!

See Monsieur de Marigny out.

Monsieur de Cerisy has waited two hours in the library.

Let him wait. Or let him leave.

In any case, I'm free.

I owe nobody nothing.

When all Paris was up in arms

about his liaisons with Madame de Mendoze and others,

he was deceiving them with that creature.

A courtesan on the wane,

and rather vulgar, I hear...

I'll let you guess what men seek in her.

Vulgar or not, she must be very crafty

to wrest Monsieur de Marigny from so many women.

After too much sweetness,

one may appreciate the scent of an alkali.

Still, ten years!