Queen Christina Page #2

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Spoils! Glory!

Flags and trumpets!

What is behind

these high-sounding words?

Death and destruction!

Triumphals of crippled men!

Sweden victorious in a ravaged Europe.

An island in a dead sea!

I tell you, I want no more of it.

I want for my people

security and happiness.

I want to cultivate the arts of peace.

The arts of life!

I want peace, and peace I will have.

Your Majesty.

Every morning I come to wake you...

and every morning

I find you already awake and reading.

It's not right, Your Majesty,

to rob your sleep.

I have so little free time, Aage,

that to spend it sleeping seems a waste.

What a clever fellow is this, Aage.

- Who?

- Molire.

- What is he?

- He writes plays.

He makes fun here of pretentious ladies.

"As for me, Uncle,

all I can say is that I think...

"marriage an altogether shocking thing.

"How is it possible to endure the idea

of sleeping...

"with a man in the room?"

Is that good, Your Majesty?

Not bad, Aage.

They say...

you are going to marry Prince Charles.

Do they? What do you think of it?

I think it's good for a queen

to marry a hero.

What else do they say?

They say...

you prefer the Lord Treasurer.

And what do you think of him?

I don't like him, Your Majesty.

- Why not?

- The right foot.

He's too clever.

Everybody can't be

simple and heroic, Aage.

Well...

I don't like him!

Ebba, come in.

Now don't dally, Your Majesty.

You have a busy day.

Morning, Ebba.

- What are you doing up so early?

- I couldn't sleep.

That means you are happy or unhappy.

Which is it?

- Happy.

- I am glad.

- And what makes you so happy?

- No reason.

How wonderful to be happy for no reason.

Let's go for a sleigh ride.

- I can't now.

- Why not?

- Ambassadors, treaties, councils.

- How boring.

- But we'll go afterward, Ebba.

- You always say that.

But at the end of the day,

you are never free to go anywhere.

You are surrounded by musty old papers

and musty old men...

and I can't get near you.

Today, I will dispose of them by sundown,

I promise you.

And we will go away,

two or three days in the country.

- Wouldn't you like that?

- I'd love it.

The French Ambassador, Monsieur Chanut,

is waiting in the council chamber.

There, they begin.

Countess, you're dismissed. Run along.

I have good news for you,

Monsieur Chanut.

Your countryman, the philosopher

Descartes, is coming here.

What happier destiny for a Frenchman

than to come to you, Madame.

You are the only Ambassador,

Monsieur Chanut...

who doesn't treat me like an institution.

I must confess, it's very agreeable.

That is charming of you, Madame.

But the arrival of the Spanish Ambassador

makes it especially urgent...

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