He passes slave quarters and the distant colonial raisedcottage mansion of Pointe du Lac.
CONTINUE V.O. as he speaks he approaches a small parishchurch and graveyard. He dismounts, approaches a rectangular
Greek style above ground tomb. The stone is
like a doorway.
I had only just lost my wife inchildbirth. She and the infant
had been buried less than half a
Inscriptions on the high rectangular tomb show the names:
DIANNE DE POINTE DU LAC 1763 - 1791
INFANT JEAN MARIE 1791
Louis in mix of anger and sadness pushes away the vinesalready covering the head stone and stares bitterly atthe inscription which he touches with his fingers. Takes
a flask from his pocket, takes a heavy drink. He sits,
exhausted, against the grave, as if close to his wife andchild. Face tender and sad.
INT. DINING ROOM (POINTE DU LAC) - NIGHT
Table set with candelabra, gorgeous China.
Louis in soiled shirt and boots, sits at the head of the
table, staring at a plate full of steaming food.
YVETTE, pretty Mulatto slave, pours his glass full ofwine.
I had everything a man could askfor. Yet a darkness had come that
would not lift.
Please, Michie, eat your supper.
Please. We pray for you everyday.
Louis doesn't move.
Yvette takes his linen napkin from the ring and tries toput it in his lap. He takes her wrist firmly. Rises
I know, ma chere. I need time.
EXT. RIVERFRONT STREET (NEW ORLEANS)
of gunwale sidewalks and loud, crowded riverfront tavernsfull of ruffians.
Louis in ragged lace and dirty brocade coat walksdrunkenly along the sidewalk. As he enters a crowded,
smoky little tavern and blunders into a card game, flatboat
men and one FANCY-DRESSED GAMBLER eye him as a mark.
He lays his money down on the table. They deal him in.