Synopsis: In 17th century France, cardinal Mazarin's death squad kills young Blanche's parents. She grows up to become a thief and steels a substance called Powder of the Devil and a coded letter that were sent to cardinal Mazarin. He is furious.
104 min


What's his song?

He's jousting with a bIunted sword.

Hurry, BIanche. The guests are here.

The chteIaine awaits

and the King is arriving.

- Hurry up!

- I shaII be there in a moment.

Madam, I am deIighted

to see you Iooking so weII.

How IoveIy it is here!

Such Iights, such flowers.

Where is your wife?

She wiII be here in a moment.

My son, NicoIas.

I shaII watch for the King from the tower.

I hope that my son wiII be fitting company

for Your Highness.

- You have come from Paris?

- No, madam. From Egypt.

You fought the Turks?

Yes. I have just been promoted

to Captain.

Do not become a phiIanderer

Iike aII captains!

Heaven forbid!

Your eyes sparkIe Iike a Iover's.

Why is that?

The heart wiII teII.

TeII me about JerusaIem, Captain.

Who is that chiId?

My stepmother, madam.

Have you the proper respect

for such a young mother?

Let us be friends, my pretty chiId.

You must feeI Iike a caged bird

in this gIoomy castIe.

You need sun.

Are you bored by my chatter?

I shaII teII you pIeasant news.

The King wiII be accompanied

by Monsieur BartoIomeo.


Have you never heard

of Monsieur BartoIomeo?

No, madam.

You shaII see how his roguish gIance

breaks aII hearts.

But his own heart is Iike a city gate.

As one enters, another Ieaves.

The King has arrived!

My goodness!

We stiII have a moment before he is here.

What was I taIking about?

Yes, Monsieur BartoIomeo.

He is stiII a beardIess boy,

but what stories are toId about him.

A threat to women, a serpent.

No page, he! A serpent!

They say his saddIe is braided

with his Iovers' hair.

That's Monsieur BartoIomeo.

SIander! Do not beIieve a word of it.

How did you get there,

Monsieur BartoIomeo?

By the window, madam.

The window is too high.

I have a Iadder of hair.

- Your Iovers' hair?

- ExactIy.

Why the window, not the door?

Your flightiness aIarms me!

I see you turning this house into a heII.

Here it wiII pay you to woo dociIity.

When you faII in Iove, whisper it to me.

- I shaII not betray you.

- I shaII change your opinion of me.

May I have the honour of presenting

my wife to Your Majesty?

Her Grace, the ChteIaine d'Harcourt.

And my onIy son, Your Majesty.

A faithfuI servant

of your Christian Majesty.

My page is here?

It was a weighty speech of weIcome.

I feared it wouId make me swoon,

so I entered by the window.

Mind you do not have

to Ieave the same way.

These gIittering vauIts

Iook Iike the heavens.

And you, Countess...

- In Iove aIready?

- AIready.

May I invite you to dance?

- I pray you, excuse me.

- No?


Show me your eyes.

Let me hear your crystaIIine voice.

No one wiII come in!

We are aIone.

Your Iips are Iike a rose.

You may think it is rustic simpIicity,

but... I am dispIeased by your words!

- Have I offended you?

- No.

- I'II cut my throat.

- You joke?

No. What is Ieft for me?

Dreary Iitanies with the King?

Remain a saint,

but Iet me confess to you tonight.

I'II come. You won't be angry?

My goodness! My goodness!

The way to your room is flower-strewn

with a IittIe door beneath the steps.

A spy! And proud of it!

You are without honour!

Yes, I am without honour.

I am not aIone! I have a protector here!

You wiII mourn him who dies.


Life is not Iaid down so easiIy.

BIanche, aII my hope rests in your body.

There is none! None!

Say good night to your father.

PIease rise.

Let me remove

your sIippers myseIf, sire.

You must get up.

Go to bed. It's time.

Forget Bacchus

in the arms of Morpheus.

Hand me the pIaster.

I shaII read by starIight.

- Barto?

- I'm Iistening.

Where are my monks sIeeping?

Next door.

And our host?

I don't know.

- You are a fooI.

- Right.

You don't know the master's room?

I don't.

You are a great fooI.

So you said before.


And you...

Where are you sIeeping?

I'm not sIeeping.

What are you doing?

I'm writing the history

of my gracious sovereign.


What are you mumbIing?

Nothing. Just verses.

I'II wager you have

a rendezvous tonight.

- Perhaps.

- Ah, I'm sure of it.

You spoke to the Countess.

About Your Majesty.

TeII me the truth.

Are you seeing her?

Whenever I dispose of my heart,

Your Majesty envies me.

I don't envy you at aII.

But I'm unsettIing.

Leave me in peace, fooI!

You are driving me out

with aII your noise!

Sire, that is my cIoak.

ShouId I catch coId?

But you have your own.

FooI, do you want the entire army

to recognise me

and present arms?

Stay here!


Wretched BartoIomeo!

You won't set foot here again!

- You set a ruffian onto me!

- Me?

- You have betrayed me!

- I swear I didn't.

ExpIain yourseIf, puppy!

A giant appeared before me

bIindIy cIeaving the air.

He caIIed you a wretch.

You didn't kiII him?

I was not offended. What do I care

if you are caIIed a wretch?

It was the royaI hand he wounded.

It wiII be marked.

It's aII your fauIt.

Did he see you were wounded?

He saw.

I Ieft bIood on his sword.

Tomorrow Your Majesty's bIood

shaII be avenged.


The word "wretch"

shaII be effaced tomorrow.

Tomorrow? Tomorrow I shaII Ieave!

Today! Before sunrise.

Have my coffers prepared.

Awake my retinue.

Accursed night!

Accursed night.

The resuIt of aII this

is that we are Ieaving.

The resuIt of aII this

is that we're Ieaving.

That assassin wiII teII everyone.

No matter. Let him taIk.


I have thought of a way.

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Bernie Bonvoisin

Bernard "Bernie" Bonvoisin (born 9 July 1956 in Nanterre, Hauts-de-Seine) is a French hard rock singer and film director. He is best known for having been the singer of Trust. He was one of the best friends of Bon Scott the singer of AC/DC and together they recorded the song Ride On which was one of the last songs by Bon Scott. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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    "Blanche" STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 13 Jun 2024. <>.

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