Quills Page #3
and come back to me renewed|so I can deflower you a second time.
Some things belong on paper...
others in life.
Blessed fool who can't tell|the difference-
Mademoiselle LeClerc.
You're in the nick of time.
This old letch forgot himself.
He thought I was a character|in one of his nasty stories.
- Madeleine.|- Yes, Abbe ?
The next time you feel|the urge to visit the marquis...
I hope you'll come|to confession instead.
Care for a splash|of wine, Abbe ?
It's not even noon.
Conversation, like certain portions|of the anatomy,
always runs more smoothly|when it's lubricated.
This is a rare vintage from|an obscure village in Bordeaux.
Rather than crush the grape|underfoot, they place the fruit|on the belly of a bride,
reap its juices|when the young husband|steers his vessel into port.
Full-bodied flavor,|just a hint of wantonness.
Bottoms up.
It's from our own cellar.|I recognize the taste.
I should have told you|it was the blood of Christ.
You'd believe that,|wouldn't you ?
We treat you well enough here,|don't we, Marquis ?
Your very own feathered bed|in lieu of a straw mat.
Your antique writing desk,|all the way from La Coste.
Enough quills|to feather an ostrich-
Yes, yes, yes, dear heart, it's true.|You spoil me pink.
And in exchange, we ask only|that you follow the rules.
You know as well as I do,|you're not to entertain visitors|in your quarters.
I'm entertaining you now,|aren't I ?
Yes, but I'm not a beautiful,|young prospect ripe for corruption.
Don't be so sure.
Take your pen in hand,|Marquis.
Purge these wicked thoughts|of yours on paper.
Maybe they'll|govern you less in life.
I'll fill page after page,|my cherub.
I promise.
We're here, Doctor.|Mind your step, sir.
Good day, sir.|We've been expecting you.
Good. Very good.
Dr. Royer-Collard,|welcome to Charenton.
This may feel|a little awkward, my friend,
but it needn't be.
I've come merely|to oversee your work here.|Understood ?
- Of course.|- It's a formality. Truly.
Well, you're a man of science,|and I'm a man of God.
Charenton stands to profit|from us both, I'm certain.
I shall need an office on the grounds,|somewhere to store my things.
- This way.|- If you don't mind my asking,
why has the emperor taken|such sudden interest in my-
in our affairs ?
It seems a particular|patient of yours...|has captured his fancy.
I understand|he practices the very crimes|he preaches in his fiction.
Certainly not here.
- There were a few|indiscretions in his youth.|- "Indiscretions" ?
Abbe, please,|I have read his case history.
At 1 6, he violated|a servant girl with a crucifix.
After six months in a dungeon,|he mutilated a prostitute,
carving her flesh with a razor|and cauterizing the wounds|with hot wax.
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"Quills" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 28 Mar. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/quills_16469>.
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