All for Love

'So now we are here. I, Captain Jacques St Ives of Napoleon's Hussars,

'who has lost his family to the revolution, will not lose the opportunity of a splendid night out.

'Paris is a place of duels, wine and women. It is said any hussar not dead by 30 is a blackguard.

'Today I'm 34 and living, it seems, on borrowed time.'

At last! Now we can get drunk.

Francois, if you knew how much I dislike back-slapping...

I do. That's why I do it. Not so fast, monsieur.

-I am Capitaine Robert Coupelain of the Paris Guard.

-My condolences, Capitaine.

You have insulted me! I demand satisfaction.

We'll meet at dawn in le Bois de Boulogne.

You have choice of weapons.

Pistols.

Your name, monsieur? I demand to know your name.

-Le Vicomte Jacques de Keroual de St Ives.

-And he fears no-one(!)

-This is fast becoming a full-time occupation.

-What is, Francois?

Being your second.

-Do you think he'd accept an abject apology?

-No.

You told him I'm with child?

He was unmoved. If you are killed, I shall never speak to you again.

I understand.

You each have one shot. Whatever the result, honour will be deemed to be satisfied.

Take care. They may be loaded.

Ten paces, gentlemen.

1...2...

3...4...5...

6...7...8...

9...10.

Gentlemen, I shall say "ready" and then count to three.

< Fire at any time between one and three.

Are you ready? >

Ready!

-If you die, may I have your boots?

-You may...and my debts.

Ready!

< 1...

..2...

< 3!

Honour has been satisfied.

< Let us now consider the matter settled.

Kill him.

Here!

-You're lucky it's just a flesh wound.

-Come on, I'm late.

-Late? What for?

..No, Jacques, that fellow's friend will be looking for you everywhere.

-Let him. Remember my family motto.

-No.

-You're a plebeian.

-That remark is beneath you.

-A position shortly to be occupied by the singer.

-Wit(!) You're jealous.

-What is there to be jealous about? Her eyes so full of fire...

-Beauty is skin-deep.

That's it. I cannot love a man who loves a cliche.

Le Vicomte Jacques de St Ives at your service.

-You are wounded.

-It's nothing.

It seems I'm breakfasting with the most infamous man in Paris.

-You'd think Paris would have something better to talk about.

-Capitaine de St Ives?

Pistols. Le Bois de Boulogne at dawn tomorrow.

So, monsieur, you are a vicomte, and yet you serve Napoleon?

I like the uniform.

Capitaine de St Ives?

Sabres. Bois de Boulogne. 8am.

And is Monsieur le Vicomte a rich man?

At the moment, I am the richest man in Paris.

..The earliest I can accommodate you is 9am.

-I'd hoped that we might find some time together tomorrow, but you are engaged.

-Today?

-I have a matinee.

-And after?

-An evening performance.

-After that?

-A prior engagement...

-Ah?

-..which cannot be broken.

-Wednesday, we perform at Versailles.

-And I return to the battlefield.

-It must be tomorrow morning.

-I can be with you by ten.

Capitaine de St Ives?

-I demand you grant me satisfaction.

-Can you make 9.15?

Noon or you're a disgrace to your uniform and France.

-Only officers can fight duels?

-Officers of the same rank, yes.

Good. I wouldn't like to wait in line behind an entire regiment.

Noon.

Mademoiselle, forgive me for what I am about to do. I have our best interests at heart.

-Something I've said?

-Yes. I'll pay my respects first thing tomorrow.

At what time do you rise?

-As soon as I wake.

-Until tomorrow, then.

Capitaine de St Ives requesting demotion, sir.

You are a liar and a cheat, a drunkard and a disgrace.

A hot-headed, hot-blooded Casanova.

A useless, feckless, worthless hobbledehoy.

Have you nothing to say for yourself?

A good-for-nothing blackguard and a slubberdegullion.

-Colonel, may I say...?

-You may not.

St Ives, you marched in here a captain of hussars. You will march out a private.

A what?

-A private.

-There's some mistake.

-Reduced in rank, of course, but reduced TO the ranks...?

-No mistake.

A private in the infantry.

The infantry.

Take him away and find him a particularly itchy uniform.

Fusilier Jacques St Ives reporting for duty.

Well, the uniform has changed.

The man beneath remains the same.

I do hope so.

May I offer some small compensation for the sacrifices you've made?

You may.

En avance!

Was it worth it?

'It was worth it.'

-Was it worth it?

-It was worth it.

SNORING

-Wake up, Francois.

-What is it?

-Come with me.

-Hm?

Corporal Harry! >

British soldiers. There can't be more than 200 of them.

-You and I will take them prisoner.

-Good idea. You surround them, I'll go back to bed.

-We'll be heroes.

-Will they write songs about us?

-Yes. You will recommend my reinstatement.

-You concede it was not worth it?

-I do no such thing.

-Same old...

Ah-h-h-h!

Bonjour, messieurs.

There's your place. Make yourself at home.

I did not expect to be incarcerated in a toy shop.

The jail is open to the public each Saturday. They jabber like monkeys but pay good money for our toys.

Let's see what you can do.

-BELL RINGS

-Open up.

-Major Chevening.

-Ah, Miss Gilchrist, you're here.

Welcome. I'm so glad you were able to... And that you managed to persuade your niece...

-She took no persuading. Did you, Flora?

-Good. Good. Good.

This way, ladies. The guided tour.

Some of the work is, I think you'll agree, quite exquisite.

-May I see what you have made?

-Alas, mademoiselle, I am no craftsman.

You may call this a box if you are very indulgent.

-And this?

-My coat of arms.

-Do you suffer in your captivity, monsieur?

-Really, Flora!

What am I to say? If you were carried from this country of moors, rocks, streams, winds and rain,

would you not regret, do you think?

You speak perfect English, monsieur.

As a child, I had an English tutor.

-I should like to purchase your carving.

-It is not for sale.

But please do accept it as a gift.

My niece cannot accept a gift, monsieur.

-Then allow me.

-Thank you, Major.

You have a great many initials, monsieur.

-Jacques de Keroual de St Ives at your service.

-Flora!

The major wishes to show us his gun emplacement.

< RIPPING

I was a rope maker before I was a sailor.

You intend to use that to escape?

-How long is it?

-Ten fathoms.

-And the wall?

-The same.

-On the other side?

It's a brave man who goes first.

-You're volunteering?

-A recent wound makes it impossible for me to do anything suicidal.

DOOR SLAMS

CLOCK CHIMES

KNOCK AT DOOR

I am of the opinion that you are a gentleman.

I'm a soldier, nothing more.

-Have you seen much action?

-Yes.

This is not a romantic posting,

not like leading a battalion into battle in close order.

People get killed doing that, Major. You're better off here.

The fact remains this is not the kind of posting that impresses a young woman.

I confess I was moved to admire your manner today,

the way you spoke to Miss Gilchrist.

The point is that while the French have nothing to teach us on the battlefield, I must concede

that in the language of...

-The boudoir?

-Not at all, nothing of the sort. I was about to say love.

We English gentlemen may have something to learn...from you...

Frenchies...in that department.

My father always said if you want to win a woman, use your tongue.

To flatter her. Women, young or old, like to be complimented.

Oh, I see. Yes, of course.

Exactly.

Very good.

So...

how?

My darling, your cheeks are as soft as July peaches,

-your eyes as deeply dark as are the desert skies.

-Good God!

Your beauty maddens the soul like wine. Kiss me!

Kiss me!

-Well, you try.

-Really, I couldn't possibly.

My darling, your cheeks...

-My darling, your cheeks...

-My darling, your cheeks...

..are as soft as July peaches...

-..are as soft as July peaches...

-..are as soft as July peaches...

Your eyes...

-Your eyes...

-Your eyes...

..are as deeply dark as are the desert skies.

..are as dark as the desert skies.

Your beauty maddens the soul like wine.

-Kiss me!

-Yes.

-Kiss me!

-Yes.

..Yes, what is it?

S-Sorry, sorry, sir. I'm, um... I had no idea, um...

-Sorry.

-What the devil is the matter with the man?

'Le Vicomte Jacques de Keroual de St Ives at your service.'

The Count of St Ives!

DRESS TEARS

May I ask what you are doing here?

You are unharmed, mademoiselle.

You are the Count de St Ives.

Forgive me. I am Miss Flora Gilchrist.

I came here today because of this.

Would it surprise you to learn that it was fashioned by a French prisoner of war

who calls himself Jacques de Keroual de St Ives?

Jean.

Perhaps you'd have a drink with me?

The first I knew of the revolution

was when I woke to find the villagers smashing the dovecot.

My gamekeeper tried to stop them. They shot him dead.

It was then I knew that there was no hope.

I begged my son to leave with my grandchildren.

He would not be persuaded.

My stubborn, stupid, beautiful son.

I left without them.

'They left it too late.

'My son, his wife and my two grandsons - Jacques and Alain -

'were hunted down by our own tenants.

'Somehow, Alain escaped.

'He fled France and came here to me, a frightened boy.'

He wept.

He told me he watched as his father, his mother and his brother Jacques all perished.

But surely, sir, your grandson, Alain, would not lie about the death of his brother?

I tell you plainly my grandson, Alain, is a disappointment to me.

He has lived here with me from that day to this and made my life a misery.

Lying to me would be the least of his sins.

Is there any good reason why you're still here?

I've not been paid yet.

You've had the instruction of a lifetime. I, no doubt, have been poxed. 'Tis you should pay me.

That swine will be the ruination of my family.

I must see this prisoner.

But you may see him.

-Come to the jail.

-The journey would be too much for me.

Our carpenter must come here.

The major is expecting me.

-Miss Gilchrist!

-Ah! Major!

-What a pleasant surprise.

Um...my aunt was wondering if you'd dine with us at Swanston this Saturday?

Dine? Saturday? Swanston?

What a great pleasure. I shall be free of my duties here by seven.

Do I have the pleasure of addressing le Vicomte Jacques de St Ives?

-I do not call myself that...though I have a right to if I choose.

-I knew it!

-How did you know it?

Your crest. Your grandfather lives here in Scotland not 20 miles away, at Inveresk.

He gave me this map to aid you in your escape.

Why are you doing this?

I want to help you.

-You think this helps me?

-He's desperate to see you.

-Why, then, has he not come?

-My grandfather abandoned us, fled while my parents and brother were slaughtered...

-No! Your brother...

Miss Gilchrist, you shouldn't be in here.

No, you should not.

Miss Gilchrist!

I would be the first man down the rope.

-Your hand?

-Miraculously healed.

APPROACHING FOOTSTEPS

-Ah, Biggerstaff, I'm dining at Swanston this evening.

-May I?

I expect everything to be shipshape on my return.

-Are you wearing perfume?

-A little eau de cologne.

-Wash it off, man. You smell like a pansy.

Farewell, my love.

# Rumpety, rumpety, rumpety-rump Here I come on my charger

# Rumpety, rumpety, rumpety-rump Just like an Indian rajah

# All the girls, they do declare that I am a gay young stager

# Hey, hey, clear the way Here comes the galloping major! #

Major, I'm so happy you could come.

It's a honour. What a delightful setting.

Yes. In high summer, we eat al fresco almost every evening.

-Beats roast beef every time.

-Actually, we're having roast beef.

-My favourite!

Excuse me for a moment.

Miss Gilchrist, I wonder... may I call you Flora?

Of course you may. It is my name, after all.

Flora... your cheeks are as soft as a...

as a...

-peach.

-What?

-Would you like a peach?

-Do you have one?

-No.

Then I won't, thank you.

Flora?

Your eyes...are good? You don't need eye glasses?

Excellent!

CLOCK CHIMES

They'll be slopping out back at the prison about now.

I must say

your father has collected a great many fascinating nick-nacks on his travels.

-The "nick-nacks" were not collected by my father. They were collected by my aunt.

-Good Lord! Is that so?

-Have you travelled far?

-Italy, all through the Ottoman Empire,

Constantinople.

-Good Lord!

-Persia, the Holy Land...

-You must have seen a great deal of the world yourself, Major, with the Army.

-Not THAT much.

-You have been somewhere exotic, surely?

-Salisbury.

-Nice little town.

-Tell us about it, Major.

Might my niece be permitted to call you by your first name, Major?

Indeed she may.

-What is it?

-Hm?

-Your name?

-Farquhar.

-Bless you.

-No, my name - Farquhar.

-It's Gaelic.

-How charming.

-It means "manly".

-Which of course you are.

I sincerely hope so.

Would you please excuse me?

Might I say something, Farquhar? Sit.

Young women are not interested in whether the percussion cap will replace the flintlock

nor whether the British brown bess is superior to the French musket.

When I withdraw, sit closer to her.

Look into her eyes.

Take her hand.

Compliment her - her hair, her clothes, her complexion.

And above all, please tell her you were joking

and that your name is something a touch more heroic.

-Miss Gilchrist, Miss Gilchrist, may I just say your beauty maddens the soul like wine?

-No, you may not.

Absolutely. Thank you very much indeed.

< Please! Don't shoot!

Give me that.

Hurry! A man's escaping on the west wall! Go after him! >

Ah-ha!

GUNSHOT

Of course, the bashibazouks, with whom I lived in Turkey,

heated a mixture of fresh opium and ashes of the drug.

Sadly, all we have is old Jamaican shag.

-The water cools and purifies the smoke most wonderfully.

-Quite so.

-What is it, Sim?

-A message for Major Shivering, ma'am.

-Chevening.

-A man's dead.

-Who?

-Leave this to me, ladies.

-Who? Who is dead? Who is dead?

-Forgive me, Father.

-Ah!

Where are you going so early in the morning, Padre?

Not so much early, my son, as late, making my way back to my own bed.

Arrest him...

Get after him!

HE WHISTLES LA MARSEILLAISE

Out! It was in.

Out. In.

Jean? Monsieur? In or out?

..IN or OUT? In?

Out. ..Well, get out!

But leave the tray.

His mother was a crab, you know.

-Monseigneur?

-Who is it?

Who are you?

I'm Jacques.

Will you be so kind as to uncork the wine

and pour two glasses?

The soil and the sun - the smell of my childhood.

This is Chateau St Ives.

I prayed that it would be you.

My boy!

We were seized - my mother, my father and Alain - and thrown into prison.

We were questioned - Alain was the first -

questioned day and night about our supposed support for the royalist cause.

I said nothing, even when they told me Alain had been guillotined and I would be next.

One morning, they prepared us for execution. My father was first.

I heard the blade fall.

My mother went by the same road to heaven.

Then it was my turn. The steps to the scaffold were steep.

Suddenly a man took hold of me. I was passed over the heads of the crowd. They were laughing.

Someone dropped me. I crawled amongst the legs then I was running.

I was 12 years old. I enlisted in the army.

I saw my first action at 13,

and by 14, I was fighting under the command of General Napoleon himself.

The army has been my family.

Every day has been a torture to me...

since the day I left France.

Until today.

Today, the sun has shone for the first time in 20 years.

Now, wait behind that door. I will call you.

Jean, light the candles

and assemble the entire household in this room. The ENTIRE household. Oui, monsieur.

What's going on?

Is there a fire? God, I hope so.

Anything, anything to rid me of this ennui.

< I wish to introduce someone to you,

someone I thought lost to me for ever.

< Jacques, step forward.

Alain?

Oh, Alain, it's you.

You survived.

I don't know you.

-It's me, your brother.

-Don't touch me!

My brother's dead.

I don't know this man.

I call upon all of you here gathered to witness

that I do discard and disinherit this gentleman who you all know,

le Vicomte Alain,

and recognise as my sole heir and representative, my younger grandson le Vicomte Jacques.

I am deeply grateful to you all.

-I do not understand.

-I

-understand.

Yes. I understand only too well.

Ride to Queensferry Jail. Tell them we have an escaped French prisoner in the house. I'll take care of him.

The rest of you, get out! Go on, go! Hurry up! >

You, sir, are an imposter

who's taken advantage of a gullible old man.

Defend yourself, Jacques!

Go on, kill me.

I am nothing to you. Kill me.

You are dearer to me than life itself.

Shoot him.

SHOOT HIM!

Give it here! You cowardly swine! Shut up, old man!

I want what's mine!

Leave him. By morning, you will be the Count of St Ives. >

St Ives?

Shh, shh, shh!

-My brother's alive.

-Yes.

He gave me a less than cordial welcome.

-He did this?

-Fortunately, he's always been a poor shot.

-I'm sorry.

-No, it is

-I

-who should apologise...

for coming here.

I'm pursued from all sides.

I shall come for you when it is safe.

Ah-h-h...

Are you always so well equipped?

Always.

My father was a naval surgeon.

He was killed in action.

Against the French?

Yes.

It requires a stitch.

-Your father taught you?

-No, but it can't be that difficult.

You must hold still.

Scissors?

There.

Thank you.

AUNT: Flora! >

WHISTLING: "Soldier, Soldier, Won't You Marry Me?"

# So off she went to her father's chest

# And she brought him some clothes of the very, very best

# She brought him some clothes of the very, very best

# And the soldier put them on. #

Thank you.

Shh!

(My aunt sleeps up there.)

I have a toast to propose.

I do not know what will befall me or my family, but I shall take the memory of your kindness, beauty...

AUNT: Whom do I have the pleasure?

Flora?

May I present the Vicomte Jacques de Keroual de St Ives?

Monsieur le Vicomte, you do us plain people a great deal too much honour.

-He's the French prisoner who gave me the carving.

-French prisoners are all very well in their place,

-but I cannot see that their place is in my drawing room. My port?

-Yes.

Then you had better pour me a glass and explain yourselves.

Old Jamaican shag.

-Perhaps we should look south-west now, sir.

-Don't be ridiculous.

South-west would lead directly...

Harder, man, for God's sake!

..to Swanston.

It's an extraordinary story, but the fact remains you are an escaped prisoner of war.

Yet I can't hand you over to the authorities without incriminating Flora. You may stay the night.

You take Flora's room. Flora will sleep with me. BANGING AT DOOR

Oh, God. Quickly! Upstairs.

Flora! Flora! No time! Get into a nightdress.

KNOCKING AT DOOR >

Who is it?

-Hercules!

-I beg your pardon?

Major Chevening. Major Hercules Chevening. Open up!

There's been an escape. I have orders to search every building.

-Really?

-With your permission, of course.

-Of course.

-..You and you...

-Hercules.

-..start in here. I shall start upstairs.

BREAKING GLASS

Please forgive the intrusion.

This door is locked.

Locked?

-Farquhar!

-Hercules!

Hercules, since that night you dined with us,

I have been unable to put you from my thoughts.

The kiss that I planted on your cheek has taken root in my bosom and grown with each passing day.

Grown. Swollen.

Burst into flower -

-huge, rare, exotic blooms of desire. You said my beauty maddened your soul like wine?

-So it does...

Take me! Let Hercules himself do what he may. The cat will mew and dog will have his day.

-I can't...

-Drink me, quaff me, swill me, drain me to the dregs!

Oh, Hercules.

About!

Get me my horse!

Thank you.

He is safe.

Now go back to my room and try to sleep.

-You have something to write, monsieur?

-A note.

-A note. For whom?

For you, thanking you, but no need since I can thank you in person.

The pieces, please.

"I love you." Why, monsieur, you hardly know me(!)

-You mock me, madame.

-No, monsieur, it is you who mocks me.

-Your claims to be a gentleman.

-I AM a gentleman, madame.

Then you will understand why I must ask you to leave first thing,

-and for the sake of Flora's name, to sever all communication...

-Madame...

-..now and for ever.

-Why, Major. Won't you come in?

-Thank you, no.

-Forgive me for calling unannounced, but I, uh...

-Yes?

The last time I called, I noticed - correct me if I'm wrong -

that you thought of me with a certain...fondness. That is to say, a not unfond feeling.

-No, that is perfectly correct.

-In the light of that, given there is to be a masked ball...

-Yes.

-I wondered if you would do me the honour...?

-Yes.

-No, of course not. You're too busy.

I said yes. It would be a pleasure.

It would?

Oh, yes.

And, of course, Miss Flora, if she chooses. We are promised a full orchestra and balloon flights.

I shall see to it that she comes.

Splendid. Until Saturday, then?

Splendid!

Splendid!

Until Saturday.

It is! Hello! Hello!

Hamish Crabtree...

Cynthia Landsdale and son.

Sir Richard and Lady Ross.

Jock and Jenny Malarky.

Miss Susan Gilchrist, Miss Flora Gilchrist.

-Only in Scotland.

-What?

Would one be announced at a masked ball. Such mystery, such romance.

-May I?

-You may.

May I have the pleasure?

I do not dance, I'm afraid.

Nonsense, Flora.

You dance well.

St Ives!

Why have you not returned to France?

-I had to see you.

-Why?

-I had to ask you...

-Yes?

..to give me back my heart which you have stolen.

I cannot.

-Then I must tell you...

-Yes?

..to keep it now and for ever.

Yes, I will.

David Linlithgow!

The Count de St Ives!

-My God, Alain.

-St Ives?

-Alain!

-The escaped prisoner.

-What's happened to our grandfather?

MY grandfather died in his sleep last week.

-I don't see what business it is of yours.

-My, God, what have you done?

Arrest him!

Guard!

St Ives!

I've got him!

-Don't shoot or we'll be blown to kingdom come!

-St Ives!

-Farquhar!

Pull, man!

It will not rip. The British tailor is the best in the world.

RIPPING

THUNDER RUMBLES

Dear Father, I entreat you, save the man I love.

Let your divine breath blow him to safety.

THUNDER CLAPS

Well, I'll say one thing, Jacques, it's an ill wind that blows nobody good.

-What exactly does that mean, Farquhar?

-I'm not absolutely certain, Jacques.

What a splendid sight!

British cavalry - no finer horsemen in the world.

HELLO!

HELLO! ..I imagine I'll see Miss Flora before you. Any message?

-Just tell her, "Now and for ever".

-Now and for ever? Will do.

-I'll make sure you're treated with the respect due to an officer and a gentleman.

-They're French.

-What?

-The finest horsemen in the world. They're French.

-Oh, my God!

-We're in France.

-Oh, my God!

-Run.

-What?

Take your uniform. At least then you'll not be shot as a spy. Run!

Go on, Farquhar! I'll hold them.

Jacques de St Ives reporting for duty.

St Ives, you are a liar and a cheat,

a drunkard and a disgrace.

A rash headstrong ruffian and we have pressing need of your services.

Consider yourself returned to the rank of capitaine.

Thank you, my colonel.

-What news of Francois Rouet?

-Have you not heard?

Francois?

Francois?

Jacques!

Jacques, my dear friend.

Sit. Let me look at you.

-You look well.

-So do you.

I'm on the mend... thanks to the love of a good woman.

The singer?

-It's not possible.

-Isn't she magnificent?

Yes, though, of course, beauty is only skin-deep.

That's it. Our friendship is at an end. I cannot love a man who loves a cliche.

-A spy, sir. Found him skulking at the edge of the camp.

-I am not a spy and I was not skulking!

-Chevers? Chevers, is that you?

-Johnny!

'Imagine my relief when I looked up and saw old Johnny Elfinstone, a chum from school.'

"Scotland to France in a balloon, some sort of record, surely.

"Now at last I will see action.

"Perhaps in the future all wars will be fought from the air, fire..."

Yes, yes, yes. What news of St Ives?

"But to news of Jacques St Ives.

"He IS alive and well and reunited with his countrymen.

"His last words to me were a message for Flora.

"Now or never...or now and then... or SOMETHING!"

I must go. I must go to him today.

No, Flora, you cannot. It is dangerous, wild, impetuous!

..I will come with you.

Do use your whip, Fergus,

or the war in France will be won before we get there.

-Mrs Chevening is here, sir.

-Good Lord! The mater!

-No, sir, your wife.

-Thank God for that. Show her in.

-Yes, sir.

-Wait... Did you say my wife?

-Your wife and daughter, sir. Travelled up from Calais with the reinforcements.

-Miss Gilchrist!

-Yes.

How did you...? When did you...? I mean, why did you...?

-Kiss me.

-With the greatest pleasure.

-I should cross the French lines in disguise.

-You'll do no such thing.

-Write to Mr St Ives.

-Write? How will that quell the fire in my soul?

You sound as if you stepped from the pages of Mrs Radcliffe's The Italian.

I read that. All spies, disguises and murder. Complete tosh.

Good evening, ladies.

I was once taken prisoner by the Pasha Khali Kibay,

and I did find that by imitating the movements of the Egyptian cobra,

I was finally able to slip my bonds.

# He who would valiant be 'gainst all disaster

-# Let him... #

-What are you doing?!

-I thought a song would keep our spirits up.

-It depresses mine most horribly!

Yes! There. Something is beginning to move.

-# Then fancies flee away...! #

-Sh-h-h!

# I'll fear not what men say

# I'll labour night and day to be a pilgrim. #

Capitaine!

I have something of yours!

Release her or I will kill you.

Let her go. Then you may do what you wish to me.

Ever the optimist, Jacques. I've no need to bargain with you.

Why do you hate me so?

Because you are noble and true and I betrayed you to save my own skin.

-What...?

-You still don't understand. It was me. I gave the committee all they needed.

You were just a boy, Alain. You didn't know what you were doing.

I knew exactly what I was doing.

Brother?

Mon frere.

I missed you.

I missed you.

# Come cheer up, my lad

# Here's to glory still

# To earn something more through this wonderful year

# To honour, we call you Not press you like slaves

# For who are so free as the... #

-Major Chevening.

-Flora! Thank God! Untie us.

Your aunt has been entertaining me with tales of an Indian fakir.

..Ah! I do think you're tightening the rope rather.

-Ah...

-Jacques!

Oh, my love.

St Ives, please. ..The Frenchman.

Miss Gilchrist.

-I have no desire to rub salt into your wounds.

-Pleased to hear it.

But I do have some news for you. Paris has surrendered.

-Your generals have determined to put an end to it.

-And Napoleon?

He has abdicated.

Then we shall have peace.

Long may it last.

We can go home.

May I just say that your cheeks are as soft as a July peach,

-your eyes as deeply dark as are the desert skies?

-You may.

And may I add your beauty maddens the soul like wine?

-You may.

-Then it only remains for...

Flora, now that the war is over, I feel I may speak freely.

Your eyes, your cheeks, your lips they are the whole world to me now.

-Arseholes...

-I beg your pardon?

-Arseholes...

Be very careful with your articulation there.

-Ah.

-Carry on.

Our souls shall be as one.

If you will have me, I will climb your hills and walk your valleys

-and sail your seas from this day till my life's end.

-Oh, dear, oh, dear. No, no, no, no.

What is it?

Jacques, country walks and boating are very fine and fun in their way,

-but they have nothing to do with love.

-I was speaking metaphorically.

Yes, of course you were.

The fact remains that Miss Flora is hoping for a proposal of marriage,

not a day's sailing.

You see, in my experience, when it comes down to it...

..the tongue is a vastly overrated organ.

Fine words butter no parsnips.

Thank you, Farquhar.

Don't mention it.

-Flora?

-Jacques.

-Now that the war is over...

-Thank God.

-Thank God.

-..I feel I may speak freely.

-Please.

-Your eyes, your cheeks...

-Late night, I'm afraid.

-Your cheeks...

-The sun is rather fierce today.

-Your lips...

-Yes?

-They are my lips.

-Your body and your... God, Flora!

Marry me.

Yes, my love. Yes!

I, Susan Emily Gilchrist, take thee Farquhar Bollingbrooke Chevening...

I, Susan Emily Gilchrist...

-You've had your turn.

-I beg your pardon.

-I, Susan Emily Gilchrist,

take thee, Farquhar Bollingbrooke Chevening, to be my lawful wedded husband.

CHURCH BELLS RING

Look, look! Pull up!

Thank you.

After her, man!

Run, Flora, run!

-TALLY-HO!

-RUN!

Will you be requiring any assistance, sir?

-With exactly what, Jean?

-With, uh...the stairs, sir?

I require no assistance at all.

Ah!

SHE GIGGLES

Subtitles by Marie Campbell BBC Scotland 1999

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