The Three Musketeers (Les Trois Mousquetaires)

A small horse trotted cheerfully along. Its master was, of course, called d'Artagnan.

He was on his way to Paris to seek fame and fortune.

The horse, man's noblest conquest,

caused above all derisive laughter upon d'Artagnan's arrival.

What's so funny about that?

Come here. Watch out for the horse.

Between Tarbes and Meung, d'Artagnan often drew his sword and arrived triumphantly.

Inn of Meung.

One often gets off one's horse, but where does that horse descend from?

Whoever laughs at a horse also laughs at its master.

I rarely laugh, monsieur, but when I laugh, I laugh heartily.

Don't turn around, so I won't have to strike you from behind.

- We don't fight peasants. - Monsieur challenges us.

Stop, servants!

Hurry up!

The lesson was sufficient. Put him back on his yellow nag and send him away.

Not before I've killed you all.

Monseigneur must remain lying down.

- Don't move. - Then I'll just stiffen up completely?

- That would be quite a sight. - Monseigneur is mistaken.

Good work, darling. I look good.

Well, well...

Where are you going?

So, Your Eminence commands...

Return to England at once and inform me when Buckingham leaves.

Tell His Eminence that I am his humble...

Watch out, monsieur.

You again, young man? It's becoming an obsession.

Who is that fiery young man? Does he come from the war or the madhouse?

For a woman, you don't call your servants.

He wants to settle it face to face. I won't be indiscreet.

I'll kiss your hand as soon as I've cut off his ears. That will settle it at once.

Come, Milady.

Cowards!

We'll meet again!

Fleeing like cowards. And they call themselves gentlemen.

How cool your hand is!

- What's your name? - Annette, Monseigneur. At your service.

- May that be mutual. - Monseigneur.

Respectfully, she continued to call him "Monseigneur" that night

the second night it was "d'Artagnan", the third "my dear Charles".

This "Charles" was certain that d'Artagnan's recovery had begun well.

The night was clear, they swore it would last forever.

In reality, it lasted eight days.

Rest, like everything else, is something one eventually tires of.

D'Artagnan promised to return as soon as the king's service allowed it.

- Do you promise? - I promise.

She did not believe it, nor did he. Promises remain beautiful memories.

The next day, after he had

solved his problems: sold the horse and bought a new sword,

d'Artagnan disappeared into bustling Paris.

He went to M. De Tréville, his father's friend and the king's captain.

- Porthos, your belly belt is a work of art. - A folly, sheer madness. It's fashion.

- Are they bankrupting you? - Who?

That beautiful, supposedly Spanish brunette.

I paid for that belt myself. No Spanish money was involved.

Ask Athos.

If we worried about money, we'd be walking around naked.

Friends, you're a plague. Aramis, give me a hand.

Doesn't Scripture say: "let the little infants come to me"?

Sign me up with M. De Tréville. Chevalier d'Artagnan.

Aramis, you'd make a charming priest.

It has been postponed, but I remain on my guard.

He is waiting for the queen to give the throne an heir.

Hopefully that won't take too long.

They say the Duke of Buckingham is in France.

Don't joke about that, love knows no laws.

And we know that it is an English child. They'll be singing about it soon enough.

If there had been a Gascon club then, M. De Tréville would have been the chairman.

He warmly received the son of his old friend.

Your father was brave. I'm sure you follow his example.

I'll give you a letter for M. Des Essarts, so that he will take you into the cadets.

- I was hoping to become a musketeer right away. - Patience, young man.

Prove yourself among the cadets and then we'll see.

He was chauvinistic and prejudiced like every

well-born man, and practiced a faith in which God came from Béarn.

Heavens! That false nobleman from Meung. The coward!

His ears are intact!

- We'll meet at the Red Pigeon House. - Good.

You must be a provincial.

Whether I am or not, I won't be lectured by you.

- If I weren't in a hurry... - I'll wait for you.

- Where? - Tonight at the Carmes Déchaux.

- What time? - Five o'clock.

I'll be there.

He makes friends quickly.

Are you blind or crazy? You'll get beaten up.

- That's quite a word. - Shall we discuss this?

- At five o'clock, at the Carmes Déchaux. - Fine. I'm your man.

Here's a handkerchief you'd rather not lose.

Nice crown. Do you still deny that you're having an affair with Madame de Bois-Tracy?

Excuse me.

Do Gascons always look under other people's shoes?

But by apologizing,

a Gascon does more than half his duty.

Do you know the Carmes Déchaux?

Very well. At five o'clock, if you wish.

To die so young... Well...

Later, in the cadets' uniform, d'Artagnan took advantage

the time he had left. He went looking for a room.

He introduced himself to a certain M. Bonacieux,

whose address he had been given.

Sir.

Hello. A friend said that you rent a room.

Indeed, Monseigneur. On the second floor. If you follow me.

In these lean times, the rent barely covers the costs.

I rent it out to be of service, not to make a profit.

Not a room for a musketeer, but at a princely price.

For those two reasons, I must tell you...

At last! I had to serve my own lunch.

I served the queen. Don't forget that I am her laundress.

I come from the Louvre.

Back to business. How much does this room cost?

There is little light and air, but the view is magnificent.

So I am paying for the view.

- You're getting a good deal. - I can see that.

- Constance? - Uncle?

Chevalier d'Artagnan is our new tenant.

My niece, Constance.

Clean this place up a little.

I'll leave you two for a moment.

She does the housekeeping.

Sir?

I find you charming.

Oh, monsieur...

- What is it? - Five o'clock.

Where are you going?

Where honor calls. If I am not back within two hours,

back, my soul will come to apologize.

Punctuality may be a virtue of kings, but not of our enemies.

Too late for their final hour. Unforgivable.

How nice to meet at the same time and for the same reason, without an appointment.

Who are you dueling?

With a hardened Gascon. And you?

- Mine is a stubborn Béarnais. - Coincidence. Mine too.

- There's my man. - No, mine.

Let's say: ours.

Three duels at the same hour. This is a joke.

Probably the last one.

Do we really have to fight to contest the honor of being allowed to kill you?

The honor is mine, gentlemen, but let us respect the order.

Athos has the right to kill me first.

That reduces your guilt, M. Porthos, and makes yours almost zero, M. Aramis.

Unless I kill all three of you.

Bravado.

That young man has a fine trait.

The Cardinal's guards. Swords in their scabbards!

Enough! Put your swords away.

What's this, musketeers, fighting against the regulations?

The good M. De Jussac.

No one else. And he asks you to follow him.

- And if not? - If not, we attack.

You choose.

There are six of us, only three of you.

Apparently there are four of us.

True friendship must be strengthened by blood.

You are a musketeer or you're not.

Louis XIII made little impression, perhaps

because he stood between Henry IV and Louis XIV.

I'm afraid, gentlemen, that I have won.

- The number 13 brings him luck. - Is Buckingham within our walls?

Do you wish to continue?

Losing to Your Majesty is a pleasure.

Then let us continue.

M. De Tréville awaits your orders.

I'll see him right away.

M. De Soissons, replace me.

- If these gentlemen accept me. - Of course, dear Soissons.

Come to my study, Tréville. I must reprimand you.

Your musketeers are devils, destined for the gallows.

Five of the Cardinal's men, including the swordsman Jussac, taken out in one day.

It is too much. They have truly made His Eminence ill.

So much so that he did not attend my games last night.

- How did it happen? - In the simplest way.

Three of the finest musketeers went out with a young cadet I know.

These peaceful fellows ended up at the Carmelites.

To graze a little like good little lambs.

Just then M. De Jussac and his guards attacked them.

- Over what? - Boots, Sire.

I like that word.

But anyway, back to our flock... to your little lambs.

Your Majesty knows it: three musketeers and a cadet defeated six top guards.

- A total victory. - Indeed, Sire.

Bravo.

It's a shame that France is divided... Bring me those brave men, Tréville.

They are here, Sire, remorseful and guilt-ridden.

I distrust their hypocritical looks.

Your Majesty is mistaken.

I see a young cadet.

Was he the one who dealt that lucky... that fatal blow to Jussac?

- He was the one. - Why don't you accept him?

I was already considering it, Sire.

Step forward, young Gascon.

How can I thank you?

By never forgetting that fighting is forbidden.

I hate disobedience.

I stand surety for them as I would for myself.

I should have punished them.

Fortunately for them and for you, I have a weakness for courage.

The Red Dovecote Inn.