All language subtitles for Tess (1979) 720p.BRrip.Sujaidr (criterion)

- Good night t'ee.
- Good night, Sir John.

Begging your pardon, sir.

We met on this selfsame road
t'other day...

and I said good night...

and you replied,
"Good night, Sir John."

I may have.

- Did so again today.
- So I did.

Why call me "Sir John"...

when I be plain
Jack Durbeyfield, the haggler?

Just a whim of mine.

I'm Parson Tringham, by the way.

I made a discovery
about you while tracing...

some family trees
for our new county history.

I'm an antiquarian, you know.

You, Durbeyfield,
are directly descended...

from the knightly house
of the d'Urbervilles.

- Did you really not know that?
- Never heard it before, sir.

Raise your head
so I can see from the side.

Yes.

That's the d'Urberville
nose and chin.

- A trifle coarser than of old, but still.
- Daze my eyes, sir.

According to the records, your line
goes back to Sir Pagan d'Urberville...

who came from Normandy
with William the Conqueror.

Here I've been slavin' away
and living rough all these years?

Well, I thought you might
already know something about it.

Well, 'tis true I got
an old silver spoon at home...

and a graven seal,
but I never paid 'em much heed.

Where do
we d'Urbervilles live today?

Oh, you don't live anywhere.

You lie,
buried in your family vault...

at Kingsbere-sub-Greenhill...

laid out in lead coffins...

with your effigies
under marble canopies.

- Where be our family mansions, then?
- Oh, you haven't any.

No land neither?

None at all?

You had an abundance
of land in the old days.

What can I do about it, sir?

- Well, as to that...
- Can I do nothing?

Nothing whatever...

save possibly
chasten yourself by thinking...

"How are the mighty fallen."

Good night...

Sir John.

Won't you take a quart
of beer with me, sir?

There's a grand brew
to be had at the Pure Drop.

Though not so good
as at Rolliver's.

Sir John d'Urberville.

That's who I am.

What is this?

'Tis our club dance, sir.

Club dance!

But where are your partners?

They've not finished work yet.

They'll be here by and by.

Will you join us till then, sir?

With pleasure, but one partner
won't go far among so many.

One is better than none.

'Tis sad a-footing it
with no one to give you a squeeze.

Shh. Don't be so forward.

- What are you doing?
- I've a mind to enjoy myself. Come on.

You're full of nonsense.
Suppose someone sees us?

You go on. Don't wait.
I'll catch you up in five minutes.

Hey! Hey!

There bain't be a man
in the whole o' Wessex...

with finer skeletons than I!

Oh, Lord!
If it isn't your father...

a-riding home in his carriage!

Hey! Hey!

There bain't be a man
in the whole o' Wessex...

with finer skeletons than I!

Father's tired, that's all.

He only sent for the cart
because our own horse died.

You know that very well.

Rows and rows
o' knightly ancestors, I got!

Bain't be a man
in the whole o' Wessex...

# To wrap the baby bunting in #

# Bye, baby bunting #

# Daddy's gone a-hunting #

# To get a little rabbit skin #

# To wrap the baby bunting in #

Ah! I'm glad you've come.
Where are you off to?

- I thought I'd change and help you.
- You bide here.

I want to tell you
what's happened.

We've been found to be
the greatest gentlefolk in the county...

reaching back long before
Oliver Crumble's time...

back to the days
of the pagan Turks.

With monuments
and vaults and crests...

and coats of arms
and the Lord knows what-all!

Is that why Father made such
a mommet of himself in that cart?

Our true name is d'Urberville.

That's why he came home in style,
not because he'd been drinking.

Where is he now?

'Twas a parson told him
the pedigree of the matter.

But where is he now?

Well, to tell you the truth,
he was that upset...

that he's gone to Rolliver's
to get up his strength.

Much strength he'll find
at the bottom of a pint pot!

Very well. Look, I'll go get him.
We'll be back afore you know it.

Now, be a good girl
and put the little ones to bed for me.

There 'tis.

That?

That spoon may be small, friend,
but my family was great.

Jack, I've got a project.

We owned carriages and estates
and mansions without number.

- Listen to me.
- Is there any money in it?

'Tis well to be kin to a coach,
even if you don't ride in one.

I've been a-thinkin'
since you brought me the news.

- I've got a projick.
- Which reminds me, woman.

You better find that dang seal of ours,
or I'll do you a mischief.

Listen.

There's a great lady
by the name of d'Urberville...

living out by Trantridge.

Ah! She's nothing
compared with us.

Younger branch
of the family, no doubt.

I'll wager they don't go back
to King Norman's day.

That's as may be, but she's rich.

A lot of good her money'll do us.

It could do.

We must send
our Tess to claim kin.

"Claim kin"?

Why shouldn't
two branches of the same family...

be on visiting terms?

Certainly put her in the way
of a grand marriage.

Then she ought to go there
tomorrow morning.

Let's drink to that.
Mrs. Rolliver?

Ah, there you are, my poppet.
We was just on our way.

Good night,
Mrs. Rolliver, dear.

Good night.

But you're asking me
to go a-begging.

"Begging"!
What are you saying?

'Tis all in the family.

If they was in need,
I should take 'em in without a word.

We all have to take
the ups with the downs, Tess.

Now, you must go and see her...

and ask her
for some help in our trouble.

If the lady received me at all...

'twould be enough
if she were friendly.

You must not expect her
to help us.

Oh, come, my dear.
With your pretty face...

you could coax her
into anything.

I'd rather try to get work.

Durbeyfield, you decide.

If you say she must go,
she'll go.

Well, girl,
do you want to go visitin'...

this grand kinswoman of ours?

- I'd much sooner not, Father.
- There! She don't want to!

I don't like my children making
themselves beholden with strange kin.

I'm the head...

of the noblest branch
of the family...

and I got my pride to think of.

Oh!

All this bragging
about your ancestors!

It isn't them as will
buy us a new horse.

But... this is all new.

Well, my beauty...

and what can I do for you?

I... I came to see
Mrs. d'Urberville, sir.

I'm afraid that's impossible.
She's an invalid.

What was your business with her?
I'm her son.

Uh, it wasn't business.

It was...

I can hardly say what.

Not business, sir, no.

- Pleasure, then?
- No, sir.

'Tis so very foolish, I...

I fear I can't tell you.

Never mind.
I like foolish things.

Try again, my dear.

I came, sir, to tell you that...

we are of
the same family as you.

Ah.

Poor relations?

- Yes.
- Stokes?

No, d'Urbervilles.

Yes, yes, I meant d'Urbervilles.

Tell me...

do you like strawberries?

- Yes, when they're in season.
- Here they already are.

Our name has become Durbeyfield...

but we have several proofs
that we're d'Urbervilles.

That's who the antiquarians
hold we are...

so Mother said we should
make ourselves beknown to you...

as we've lost our horse...

and we are
the oldest branch of the family.

I see.

So, uh, you've come to pay me
a courtesy call, really...

as one relation to another.

- I suppose I have.
- Yes.

Well, there's no harm in that.

I would rather take it from my own hand.

Don't be so coy,
my pretty cousin.

There.

Come. This one too.

It's the perfect place.

Believe me.

You'll look a regular posy.

- What's the matter?
- A thorn.

Ah, Cousin...

beauty has its price.

I'm not very hungry.
Truly I'm not.

Nonsense.

You must eat something
before you go.

It's no mean ride
from here to your village.

I shall see
what I can do for you.

But listen, Tess, no more
of this d'Urberville nonsense.

Plain Durbeyfield.
Understand?

It's quite a different name.

I wish for no better, sir.

"In reference to your daughter
and further to her visit...

we write to inform you
of our willingness...

to consider
engaging her services...

in the managing
of a poultry farm...

of modern character.

If, after a suitable period...

your daughter proves...
proves satisfactory...

we should guarantee her
comfortable accommodation...

and a good wage.

Your earliest reply
would be greatly appreciated."

So you charmed them
after all, did you?

Let me see that letter.
Who wrote it?

Who?
Mrs. d'Urberville, of course.

Look at the signature.

Me, manage a poultry farm?

- I truly don't think I should go.
- Poultry!

'Tis just her way
of getting you there...

without raising
your hopes too much.

She's going to own you as kin.

Hey! The seal!

This is it.
It's the same as ours.

Look at it, lad.

A ramping, great big lion
with a castle on top.

There's no denying it, girl.

Mrs. d'Urberville recognized
her own flesh and blood.

She-She never even saw me.

Well, you couldn't expect her
to throw her arms 'round your neck...

her being an invalid.

But her son made you welcome.

He called you "cousin,"
didn't he?

I'd rather bide here with you.

- Good-bye, Father.
- Mm.

You're off, then?

Yes. Good-bye, Father.

Good-bye, girl.

Oh, you're a comely sight.

This young cousin of yours...

tell him that, being so
come down in the world...

I'll sell him the title.

Yes, I'll sell it...
at a fair price.

Not less than
a thousand pounds, mind.

That's right. Tell him
I'll take a thousand pounds.

Well, now I come
to think on it...

he can have it for a hundred.

I won't stand on trifles.

Fifty.

Twenty pounds, tell him,
and not a penny less.

Family honor is family honor.

Come. It's time to go.

I want to walk
a little ways with Tess.

So do I, now she's leaving
to marry our gentleman cousin.

I'll hear no more of that.

Mother, how could you have put
such nonsense into their heads?

She's going to work
for a rich relation, my dears...

and help earn enough money
to get a new horse.

Oh, Mother, I wish our Tess...

hadn't gone to be a lady.

Is that the gentleman
who's going to marry our Tess?

If God be willing, my girl,
that's the one.

Don't hold my arm!
Grab me around the waist!

Ungrateful little minx.

Why abandon me
as soon as you feel safe?

The danger came
of your foolishness.

I say, what a temper!

When people are on top of a hill,
they have to get down somehow.

But not at a gallop, surely.

Fancy being asked that
by a brave little beauty like you.

I always go downhill
at a gallop.

You can't beat it
for stirring the blood.

But perhaps
you needn't do so again.

Perhaps not.

It all depends.

One little kiss
on those ruby lips...

or even on that satin cheek,
and I drive at a snail's pace.

- Word of honor.
- But I don't want to be kissed, sir.

Stop, stop, I beg you!

Very well.

- Do as you wish. I don't mind.
- Whoa, boy.

But I thought you'd protect me,
being a kinsman.

Kinsman be hanged.

You're mighty sensitive
for a village lass.

- Oh, my hat!
- Whoa, boy.

Whoa, boy. Whoa.

You look even prettier without it.

- Come along, now. Up you get.
- No, sir.

- You won't ride with me?
- No, I shall walk.

It's four miles
to Trantridge at least.

I wouldn't care if it were 20.

You watch out for Dollop,
the bailiff.

He's a devil.

And that Mr. Alec!
Spends half his time on horseback...

and the rest
chasing the likes of us.

His mother's a queer old soul,
but no real trouble.

'Tis a mercy for us she's blind.

Mrs. d'Urberville's blind?

Stone blind.

Their real name is Stoke.

How's that?

'Twere Mr. Alec's father
had the notion.

He bought the name
of an old extinguished family...

- to make himself important.
- Whatever are you doing?

Missus is waiting for her birds!

Oh, quick, quick!
It slipped my mind entirely.

Now, you catch hold
of Phena there, and...

and that one.

It's that one there,
and the white one.

So you are the new young woman.

Well, how are my birds?

Ah.

This is Strut.

He doesn't seem
so lively today, does he?

He's alarmed at being handled
by a stranger, I suppose.

And Phena?

Ah, yes, yes.

Ah, they are a little frightened.
Aren't you, my poor dears?

Never mind.

They'll soon get used to you.
Can you whistle?

- Whistle, ma'am?
- Yes, whistle tunes.

A little.

Then you will have
to practice every day.

I think a lot of my fowls, but there are
also my bullfinches to consider.

I had a young lad who whistled
to them very well, but he left.

They've been neglected for days.

Master Alec whistled to them
this very morning.

Mm. Him!

Nor art nor nature ever created
a lovelier thing than you, Cousin Tess.

To see that pretty mouth...

pouting and puffing away...

without producing a single note.

- 'Tis all a part of my work, sir.
- I'll teach you.

I won't lay a finger on you. See?
I'll stay where I am.

Now, you watch me.

Don't screw up your lips
too tight.

Do it like this.

Blow gently.

Gently.

Try.

No, no. Try again.

Again.

There.

You'll manage splendidly,
now I've started you off.

Tell me, Tess, don't you find
my mother a little... odd?

I hardly know her, sir.

Well, I'm not in her good books
at the moment...

but you should find favor
if you treat her livestock well.

Oh, uh...

if you meet
with any difficulties...

don't go to Dollop.

Come to me.

Au revoir.

What, don't you
fancy a dance, then?

I'm mortal tired.
When are you all going home?

Soon enough.
Soon enough.

Well, my beauty...

what are you doing here
this time of night?

I'm waiting for the others, sir,
not being acquainted with the road home.

I only have a saddle horse.
Come to the inn with me.

I'll hire a trap for us both.

No, no. Thank you,
but I promised to wait for them.

Very well...

silly girl.

Please yourself.

What's that
a-creepin' down your back?

Well, I declare!

'Tis treacle!

- You dare laugh at me, you hussy?
- I can't help it.

No more than the others.

You think you're the queen
of Trantridge, don't you...

just 'cause
you're first favorite with him.

She never said anything.
Leave her.

I'll show you. I'm worth two of your sort,
for all your airs and graces.

If I'd known
what sort you were...

I never would have lowered myself
by accepting your company.

- I'll show you.
- Hey there, work folk.

What's all the row about?

Quickly, jump up beside me.

Out of the frying pan,
into the fire!

Where are we?

Passing through The Chase.

The Chase?

'Tis out of our way, surely.

This forest is one of the oldest
and loveliest in England, Tess.

Don't you think
it deserves to be seen...

on a glorious,
God-given night like this?

Yes, but...

No buts.
There's a good girl.

I'll be honest with you:
I'm happy.

I'm trying
to prolong the moment.

You were shivering a while back.

Now I can feel
your warmth against me.

Are you still cold?

No, not now.

I'll let my animal walk
a little further.

He'll make better progress
once he's rested.

Tell me, what news
of your parents' horse?

- They have no horse.
- They have, since Monday last.

- Did you...
- Forgive me for having mentioned it.

I thought they would have
written to you.

I don't know what to say.

It's nothing.

I knew how important it was
for your father to have a new horse.

Really.

It's you he should thank.

I'm grateful to you.

Truly, I am. But...

I almost wish
you hadn't done this.

Yes, I almost do.

- Is that a reproach?
- Oh, no.

'Tis very kind of you, I'm sure.

I've been in torment
ever since you came to us.

- Then I'll leave tomorrow, sir.
- That's absurd!

I don't want you to leave!

That's the last thing I want.

Is there no hope for me?

None at all?

Tess...

I'm dying for you.

Can't you see?

Forgive me.

Oh, please forgive me.
Are you hurt?

No, it's nothing. Nothing.

You're bleeding!

Oh, my God.

However could I have done
such a thing?

It's me.

Don't be so foolish.
Open the door.

You'll force me
to make a noise, Tess.

My mother has sharp ears.
She'll hear.

Enough of this nonsense, darling.
Open up.

Why sneak away...

like a thief?

And at this hour in the morning?

Nobody would have
prevented you leaving.

At least let me drive you home.

Unless you'd care to come back.

I shan't come back.

What are you crying for?

I was only thinking...
I was born over there.

Well, we all have
to be born somewhere.

I... I wish
I'd never been born...

there or anywhere else.

You're absurdly
melancholy, Tess.

You can hold your own for beauty
against any woman...

queen or commoner.

I tell you that
as a practical man...

who wishes you well.

If you're wise, you'll let the world get
a clearer sight of that beauty...

before it fades.

Why not make the most of life?

We didn't fare
so badly together, did we?

- I was blinded for a while, that's all.
- That's what all women say.

How dare you talk like that!

Has it never struck you that
what all women say, some may feel?

- All right, I was wrong. I admit it.
- Please stop.

- I should like to get down here.
- Whoa.

I'm a bad lot, I suppose.
A damn bad lot.

I was born bad,
and I warrant I'll die bad.

But listen, Tess...

if circumstances should arise...
do you understand...

if you're ever in the least trouble,
the least difficulty...

just send me one line, and you shall
have whatever you need by return.

You really won't come back?

Good-bye,
my four-months' cousin.

Good-bye.

Tess?

'Tis no use
her pretending she hates it...

and wishes it in the churchyard,
and herself beside it.

- She loves that child of hers.
- Poor little mite.

It don't look long
for this world.

- Good evening, Durbeyfield.
- What's your business?

- My business?
- Mm.

What else but the child?

I must baptize it before the
Lord gathers it to his bosom.

What child are you speaking of?

All my children are baptized.
You ought to know.

Durbeyfield, don't play games
with the Almighty.

I don't play, sir. I work!

I work,
like a beast of the field!

You can tell
the Almighty that from me!

- My baby's dying.
- You ought to have been more careful.

Like it or not, Jack, that child was born.

'Tis here, under your own roof.

- Not true.
- Come to your senses.

For pity's sake, let the vicar in!

He shan't set foot
inside this house.

Not over my dead body!

There's enough disgrace
on my name as it is.

O merciful God, take pity.

Take pity on him.

Send down your anger on me...

but have mercy on my child.

My child.

I should like
to ask you something, sir.

Well, speak, girl.
I'm listening.

Each of us shares
in your sad affliction, my child.

We're all members
of the suffering body of Christ.

My son was baptized.

Baptized? By whom?

By me, last night.

What procedure did you follow?

I woke my little brothers
and sisters...

and made them
kneel down to pray.

'Liza-Lu held
the prayer book open...

and I lit a candle.

And then?

Then I held my child
like this...

over the basin...

Yes?

...and I poured some water
on his forehead, and I said...

"I baptize thee...

in the name of the Father,
Son and Holy Ghost."

- Did you make the sign of the cross?
- Yes, I did that too.

Will it be just the same
as if you'd baptized him?

In the sight of God, I mean.

Yes, my dear girl.
It will be the same.

Then you'll give him
a Christian burial?

That-That's another matter.

"Another matter"? Why?

Well, that would concern
the village as a whole...

not-not just the two of us,
you understand.

Won't you do it, sir?

Just this once?

I'm sorry.

I beg you, please.

I... I told you.

It's out of the question.

Then I don't like you.

I shall never come
to your church again.

Never. Never!

Hey, Mr. Crick.

Eh?

What, here already?

We didn't expect you afore tomorrow.

'Tis quite a step from here
to Weatherbury.

Uh, Marlott, sir.
I come from Marlott.

Ah, yes, Marlott.

That's even further.

You're quite sure
you can stand it here?

'Tis comfortable enough
for rough folk...

but we don't live
in a cowcumber frame.

I'm accustomed to that.

I used to know your part of the county
when I were a lad.

Good. Right you are.

You'll want a rest
and a morsel of food.

I'd rather begin now,
to get my hand in.

Oh, come on.
You must be famished.

No, thank you.
A little milk will suffice.

Oh, well, if you can
swallow that, so be it.

'Tis what I hain't touched
for years.

Lies in my innards like lead.

To my thinking, the beasts
aren't giving all they should.

That's because there's
a new hand come amongst us.

- I've known it happen afore.
- They do say...

that the milk goes up
into their horns at such times.

Anyone would think
we were back in the Middle Ages.

I don't appear to be
making much progress.

Take it gentle, sir.
Take it gentle. Ooh, now.

'Tis skill that does it,
not strength.

So my aching fingers tell me.

Mrs. Crick's too proud
to come a-milking with us...

and that's a fact.

Still, there's little enough
to wherrit about...

and we do eat like gamecocks.

No, you'll like it here.

Mr. Crick,
he's a very kindly man.

Just fancy: He has his own
family pew in church.

"Dairyman Dick all the week.

On Sundays,
Mr. Richard Crick."

Who's that playing?

Mr. Clare.

Mr. Clare?

Him that's learning to milk.

Angel Clare, he's called.

"Angel."

'Tis an uncommon name.

He never says much to us,
more's the pity.

Why?

Does he scorn common folk?

Quite the opposite.

He often makes mock
of old families.

'Tis quite simple.

He's a parson's son...

with a mind to be a farmer.

He's already tried his hand
at sheep farming...

and now he's learning
dairy work with Mr. Crick.

But what does he hold
against old families?

He says they're...

they're...

worm-eaten.

That be your soul
a-trying to escape.

'Tis bread, that's all.

No. 'Tis when you sneeze...

you're like to blow
your soul away.

As I see it,
no soul can leave...

its mortal shell
afore a body dies.

What if a man falls down
in a faint, Master Crick?

Well, that's a different matter.

The spirit bides there
inside you...

but you cannot feel it.

But we can sometimes
make our souls leave our bodies.

How's that, then, maidy?

Only have to lie
on the grass at night...

and look straight up
at some bright star...

and stare at it
with all your might...

and by and by,
you'll feel you're...

falling into the sky...

miles and miles
from your body...

which you don't
seem to need at all.

Tess!

Why run away like that?

Are you afraid?

No, sir.
Not of outdoor things, no.

But you have
your indoor fears, eh?

- Heavens, yes.
- Of what?

I couldn't rightly say.

Of the milk turning sour?

No.

Fear of life in general?

Yes, sir.

So have I. Very often.

Life's a puzzle,
don't you think?

Perhaps...

now you put it that way.

'Tis no use. It won't take.

If this continues...

I shall have to call
on Conjurer Trendle.

I don't say
I believe in him, mind...

but if nothing else works,
I shall have to try it, shan't I?

Somebody here is in love.

That can cause it, so I've heard.

Conjurer Fall,
t'other side of Casterbridge.

He had the knack of it
when I was a lad.

'Tis a pity.

He must be feeding
the worms by now.

My grandpa used to go
to Conjurer Mynterne...

out at Owlscombe.

There's no folk
like him these days.

Somebody's in love, I tell you.

- What's the matter?
- The blasted butter won't come.

- Why is that?
- To my mind...

How... warm it is today!

I think I'd be better
out of doors.

They do say it happens
when people are in love.

I can remember as a girl...

Don't push.

He looks so sad.

What can he be thinking of?

Well, not of us.
You can rely on that.

You're a fine one to talk, Izz.

I saw you.

What did you see?

'Twas t'other day.

I saw you kissin' his shadow.

Oh, here he comes again.

Dear eyes.

Dear face.

Dear Mr. Clare.

'Tis terrible to think
he'll never wed any one of us.

More likely he'll ask us
to milk his cows for so much a year.

What are we going to do?

We shall have to take
the Stonebridge road.

We'll be late.

- Doesn't he go to church?
- No, never.

I wish he would.

You look like cats
afraid of water.

Only on account
of our Sunday best, sir.

Very well.
I'll carry you just as you are.

No, no, I'm far too heavy.

Nonsense. I could carry
all four of you at once.

Hold on to me.
That's it.

I should put
my arms around his neck...

and look into his eyes.

There's nothing in that.

There's a time
for everything under heaven.

A time to kiss
and a time to cuddle.

Shame on you, Izz. That's scripture.

I know. I always heed
the prettiest verses in church.

If you helped me,
perhaps I could climb along the bank.

Tess...

I've gone to three-quarters
of this trouble for your sake alone.

She's angry.
She doesn't understand.

She'll kick over the bucket.

Forgive me, my darling Tess.
I don't know what came over me.

There's only one excuse for it:

I love you.

Yes, I love you.

Angel?

- Angel?
- Hello, Mercy!

Forgive me.
I didn't see you.

Forgive me.

- Welcome home.
- How are you?

Very well, God be praised.

You look radiant
with health, I see.

The open air, probably.

Have you come to spend
the holidays with your brothers?

Are they here?
I had no idea.

No, I'm only paying my parents
a brief visit...

to settle some urgent business.

Oh, then I won't detain you.

I have my Bible class to take,
in any case.

Au revoir, Angel.

Au revoir.

- Angel!
- My boy.

I apologize, Father. I had no time
to warn you of my arrival.

Perhaps you've forgotten
how to write. With a pen, remember?

I brought you
some farmhouse delicacies:

Black puddings
and a bottle of mead.

Black puddings?

It's true your mother
and I have regretted...

hearing so little of your news.

You must bear with him, Father.

Spending all one's time
with sheep and cattle...

takes one closer to nature
but further from Oxford.

I would remind you, Felix...

that a university education
means nothing...

unless it redounds
to the glory of God.

It can also redound
to the glory of man.

Only in the second place.

How far have you got
with your apprenticeship?

It's drawing to a close.

What counts is spiritual cleanliness.
Isn't that so, Father?

The two go together, my boy.

Father tells us you intend
setting up on your own account.

- Yes.
- In what part of the world?

I don't know yet.
The colonies, perhaps.

Heaven preserve us.

It would suit the type
of farming I have in mind.

- What colony?
- The choice is wide.

Or I may settle
in a foreign country.

Some places offer land to immigrants
on very favorable terms.

Brazil, for example.

Wonders will never cease.

Nothing's settled yet.
I came here to discuss it.

That among other things.

Shall we take a drop
of good Mrs. Crick's delicious mead?

Oh, forgive me. I forgot.

Strong drink
is the root of all evil.

Now, my boy,
take us into your confidence.

Is it something serious?

Not serious, but important.

The truth is...

don't you think it's time
I considered marrying?

Oh, yes indeed, my boy.
Yes indeed.

Your mother and I have sometimes
debated the same question.

Really?

And what sort of wife would you favor
for a budding farmer like myself?

A truly Christian,
God-fearing woman.

One who will be a help
and a comfort to you in all things.

- You mustn't hesitate, dear son.
- Not hesitate?

To marry your heart's desire:
Mercy Chant.

She may be rather fond of over-decorating
a church with fripperies...

flowers, scraps of lace,
and so forth...

but that's merely
a girlish fancy.

It'll pass.

Mercy's a pure and virtuous girl.

Oh, yes.
I know she's pure and virtuous.

But honesty compels me to inform you
that I have other plans.

- Other plans?
- Very much so.

Mercy Chant appeals more to you
than she does to me.

I'm not disputing her merits.
I'm speaking of my own inclinations.

My dearest boy!

Angel, please remember:
You're addressing your parents.

I'm aware of that.

I already know the woman
I intend to marry.

Her name is Teresa Durbeyfield.

Father, Mother,
I respect you both.

I also respect Mercy Chant
and have no doubt...

she'll find a worthy husband
with or without your help.

As for me...

my mind's made up.

- 'Tis you!
- Tess...

I want to ask you this now.

Will you be my wife?

I love you
with all my heart and soul.

What's the matter?

I...

I cannot.

I cannot be your wife.

- Don't you love me?
- Oh, yes, yes.

I would rather belong to you
than to anyone in the world.

But forgive me.

I can't marry you.

It was the good Lord who put
this nice young parson's son in your way.

You must believe that.

But with respect to your question...

I tell you quite private
but very strong:

On no account say a word
about your bygone trouble.

Never a word, my girl...

least of all to him.

Mother, Mother.

Tess, why does the idea
of becoming my wife displease you?

But I never said that.

'Twould please me so much.

'Tis simply that I... I cannot.

Why?

Is there someone else?

Don't I deserve
to know the truth?

- Well?
- Not now.

- When, then?
- Later.

But why?

I'll tell you when we get home.

You may stop loving me
when you know.

Let me wait till then.

Londoners will drink it
at their breakfast tomorrow, won't they?

Yes, but watered down,
in case it goes to their heads.

Strangers we've never seen.

You saw me once before.
You know that?

I did?

You wouldn't dance with me.

It was at Marlott.

Of course!

- That's incredible!
- You remember now?

Tessy! Tessy!

- Now, my girl.
- Yes.

I may never again be brave enough
to tell you my story.

Then get on
with your precious story.

"I was born at such and such a place
in such and such a year..."

I was born at Marlott...

and I grew up there.

I was in the sixth form
when I left school.

They said I would make
a good teacher.

But there was trouble
in my family.

Father was no great worker.

He drank, and I...

My parents, they...

It was then
that something happened...

something which changed my life.

They...

They discovered that
we were not Durbeyfields...

but d'Urbervilles.

Well? Go on.

Well, that's it.

What?

Well, the d'Urbervilles
are an old family.

I know.

On account of...

being of that name,
my mother thought that...

I was sent...

- I had a...
- A what?

I was told
you hated old families.

And is that all the trouble?

None of that matters, Tess.

Say you'll be my wife.

Say it, Tess.
Say it, my dear love!

Yes, yes, yes.

My youth, my simplicity...

and the strangeness
of my situation...

may perhaps lessen my fault.

But since I committed it...

I am guilty.

I must be guilty...

because the Lord saw fit
to take my child.

If what I have just written...

failed to pass my lips...

in your presence...

when I had repeated it
a thousand times in my heart...

it was for fear
of losing you forever.

For love of you...

I shall conquer that fear...

and bring you this letter.

Once you receive it, Angel...

you will hold
the rest of my life in your hands.

I hope.

I tremble.

I love you.

Tess!

Darling.

Happiness seems to put
an edge on my appetite.

I'm starving.

Oh, look! They're coming! Faster!

Faster, Mrs. Crick,
else they'll beat us to the church!

Angel. Angel, please,
I must speak to you.

- What's the matter?
- I...

I want to confess
all my past faults. All of it.

Later, sweetheart. Once we're married,
we'll tell each other everything.

I have some failings
of my own to confess.

I require and charge you both,
as you will have to answer...

at that dreadful
day of judgment...

when the secrets of all hearts
shall be disclosed...

that if either of you know
any impediment...

why you may not be lawfully
joined in matrimony...

ye do now confess it.

Wilt thou have this woman
to thy wedded wife...

to live together
after God's just ordinance...

in the holy estate of matrimony?

Wilt thou love her, comfort her,
honor and keep her...

in sickness and in health,
and forsaking all other...

keep thee only unto her...

so long as ye both shall live?

I will.

Welcome, sir!
Welcome, ma'am!

Mr. Plunkett told me
to make you at home.

The rooms you rented
are on the first floor...

but Mr. Plunkett had
to leave for Manchester...

so you'll have
the whole house to yourselves.

Oh, you'll find it
very "commodable" here.

The house is inclined
to be damp.

Oh, but I lit a good fire...

in the drawing room
early this afternoon.

As for food, look:
I've prepared you a cold supper...

and there's a nice bottle of wine
to go with it.

T-T-Tomorrow, if you wish...

I'll bring you some
of my husband's excellent cider.

He makes it himself.

Oh, the usual offices.

Your bedroom.

A little surprise, ma'am.

I took the liberty.
My son picked it in the woods.

Oh, it's a good bed.

I think you'll find it
to your liking.

And n-n-now I'll leave you
to yourselves.

Cheerio.

Which are my hands
and which are yours?

They're all yours.

Open it.

It's for you.

Family jewels.

- Are they for me?
- But of course.

Truly?

Put them on.

Put them on now.

My God, how beautiful you are!

Come and see.

I have a confession to make,
my love.

- You have something to confess?
- Why not?

You think far too highly of me.

Now, listen.

I want you to forgive me...

and not be angry with me
for failing to tell you earlier.

I said nothing,
for fear of losing you.

I shall be brief, darling.

Not long before we met...

I lived in London for a time.

There...

I met a woman older than myself.

Ours was a false relationship.

A sad one.

It was all over in a few weeks.

That's all there is to tell.

Do you forgive me?

Angel.

Oh, Angel.

You're so utterly good and gentle.
I was mad to fear your resentment.

I have a confession too, Angel,
something of the same kind.

Tell me at table.
We'll talk over supper.

- I'm hungry, aren't you?
- I told you...

I have a confession
like your own.

What confession?

I shall be just as brief.

His name is d'Urberville...

like mine.

Alexander d'Urberville.

His family bought the title.

Their real name is Stoke.

It was fate
that drove me to work...

for false relations as a way
of helping my own folk to live.

Alec...

Alexander...

took advantage of me...

relying on his strength
and my fear.

I became his mistress
in despair.

Without love.

Like yours...

my sad union ended
after a few weeks.

I...

I bore a child...

which died very young.

My life was in ruins
till the day I met you.

I'm going out.

You don't forgive me?

- I forgive you, Angel. I...
- Yes, I know.

But you...

You don't forgive me?

You were one person.
Now you're another.

"Have mercy."

- Angel...
- "Have mercy."

Angel, what do you mean
by that laugh?

How can you speak to me like this?
It frightens me.

- How can you?
- You are not the woman I loved.

- Well, who am I, then?
- Another woman in her shape.

He says... He says
I'm not the woman he loved...

but a...
but another woman in her shape.

Angel. Angel, please.

I was a child when it happened.
I knew nothing of men.

You were sinned against.
That I grant you.

So you don't forgive me?

I forgive you.
But forgiveness isn't all.

Nor love me?

I cannot help associating
your lack of firmness...

with the decline of your family.

Decrepit families imply deficient
willpower and decadent conduct.

I thought you were
a child of nature...

but you were the last in a line
of degenerate aristocrats.

Breakfast is ready.

You can get rid of me.

What did you say?

You can get rid of me.

By divorcing me.

Good God.

How can you be so simple?

You...

You're too much of a child.
Too immature.

Too ignorant, I suppose.

Leave that!

You're my wife, not my servant.

I'm your wife...

but you don't want
to live with me.

You mean to go, don't you?

I couldn't stay
without despising myself.

And what is worse,
without despising you.

How can we live together
while that man exists?

He is your natural husband...

not I.

Can you honestly
tell me to stay?

No.

But it's absolutely necessary
that one of us remain here...

to avoid a scandal.

We must at least
keep up appearances.

Oh, yes, we must.

But what will you do?

I can go home.

Are you sure?

Yes. If you leave me,
I shall go home.

Then so be it.

- Cross-in-Hand, sir.
- Yes, I know.

Come.

Now, let's be clear about this.

There's no anger in our hearts...

even though something
has happened between us...

which I cannot endure at present.

I shall let you know where I go,
and, if I think I can bear it...

if I'm capable of it,
I shall come to fetch you.

I shall wait.

Until then, you'd do better
not to try and join me.

Until then, I must not join you.

Just so.

- May I write to you?
- Oh, yes...

if you're ill
or in need of anything.

Ah! A very good day to you,
Mr. Clare.

I've brought you some groceries.

There's a chicken,
some sausages, some bacon.

- Thank you so much.
- I've also put in butter, flour, eggs...

- But that's far too much.
- Newlyweds are always hungry, sir.

Fr-Fr-From tonight onwards,
I shall cook for you myself.

The truth is, for some time
I shall be needing less than that...

because, in fact, I shall be
alone for a day or two.

My wife has been obliged
to rejoin her parents.

Mercy on us!
Is there an illness in the family?

No, nothing of that kind.
It was all arranged beforehand.

So as far as my meals are concerned
during Mrs. Clare's absence...

I'll talk to you later.

Sh-Sh-Shall I leave the basket?

Yes, the basket will do for today.
Many thanks.

I was passing
on my way home, sir.

I only wanted to wish you well...
you and Mrs. Clare.

She's not here. I'm on the point
of leaving myself, as you see.

I'm leaving England.
I've made up my mind to go to Brazil.

- Brazil?
- Yes.

Well, then please tell Mrs. Clare
I hope the journey agrees with her.

She will not be leaving
for the present.

I'm going to get the
measure of the place...

and see what life there is like.

- How is Retty?
- Oh, as high-strung as ever.

And Marian?

- Marian's taken to drink, sir.
- Really?

Yes. Mr. Crick
has got rid of her.

And you, Izz, are you well?

With you gone, sir,
how could I be?

There. 'Tis said.

Good-bye, sir.

Good-bye, Izz.

Izz!

If I were to ask you
to come with me now...

come to Brazil with me...

would your answer be yes?

To come with you
I should leave everything this minute.

You know what it would mean
in the eyes of society?

I wouldn't care.

Do you love me so much?

I've... I've always loved you.

More than Tess?

No.

Not more than her.

Nobody could have loved you
more than Tess.

She'd have given her life for you.

I could do no more.

All is vanity.

Good night, my pretty.

Night, sir.

'Tis late for a maid to be
roamin' the lanes by herself.

Have you lost your way, then?

Step up here beside me,
and I'll take you part of the road.

Why, you can scarce put
one foot afore t'other.

Ride with me, I say.

Ah.

But I know you.

You be Mr. Stoke-d'Urberville's
fancy woman.

You weren't too proud
to cock a leg for him, eh?

Trollop!

If it isn't my little Tess!

Oh, poor poppet.

What a state you're in.

You're so cold.

Here.
Get that inside you.

'Twill warm your bones.

Go on, my love. Drink it.

Get along.

You mustn't let yourself go.
Even bad luck runs out in the end.

Take my word for it.

I can't go on.

You'll feel better tomorrow.

No, I can't go on. I...

I'd like...

If I had the courage,
I'd like to die.

Oh, don't talk such flummery!

Why didn't you come
to see me sooner?

Huh? I'm gonna take you
in hand, my girl.

- Do they still have work here?
- In this wretched place?

There's always work here
for them as can abide it.

Come. You have some
of my nice soup.

After that...

you must take off
those slummocky clothes...

and prettify yourself.

Huh?

Just to make me
jealous again, eh?

My little Tessy.

Eh?

Are you the new hand?

'Tis you, is it?

Be they all you've done?

'Tis a mighty poor show.

- She's not accustomed to it.
- I don't keep useless hands here.

We're only paid for what we do,
so where's the difference?

No arguments.
I want the whole lot cleared.

Then I'll stay late.

You'd better.

Never you mind that Groby.

'Tis just his way.

Ah, no, Lord love us.
'Tis not like it was at the dairy.

"Dairyman Dick all the week.

On Sundays,
Mr. Richard Crick."

It don't do to pray here, missy.

There be a curse on this place.

- This is the Cross-in-Hand, isn't it?
- Ah, so it is.

On account of a malefactor...

they tortured here
in ancient times.

They did nail his hand to a post,
and then they hanged him.

The sinner's bones
be down there...

to this day, I'm told.

Oh, dear. Do you think...

Tuesday evening. Delighted.

- Good-bye, Felix.
- Till this evening.

Oh! Look at these.

What have you found?

An old pair of boots.

Are there two of them?

- Yes.
- How extraordinary!

Still in good condition.

It seems wicked to throw away
a good pair of boots like that.

- They could be of use to the poor.
- You must take them home with you.

I will.

- They're a little muddy.
- Yes.

- Till this evening.
- Till this evening.

Yes.

Yes, sir?

Over there. Mr. Groby.

I knew nothing
of your circumstances...

nothing at all...
until your mother wrote to me.

My mother?

She wrote what you should have
told me a long time ago.

I came at once.

Tess!

Why did you never say anything?

I had nothing to ask of you.

That isn't so.

You wear your ridiculous pride
like a hair shirt.

And you put me even more
in the wrong than I was...

against my will.

I'd have done my duty
by the child.

On my honor, I would have.

"Honor"?

I want to take you away
from this wretched place.

It's unworthy of you.

What is
this strange temptation...

misery holds for you?

Come to your senses.

Come away with me.

Your father's ill.
Did you know?

Yes.

They fear the worst.

Your family will be evicted if he dies.
They're quite as destitute as you.

I'm offering you my help,
sincerely.

No one else seems to care.

Who is this husband
of yours, anyway?

How could he
abandon you like this?

- Please leave me alone!
- Tess!

Tess!

There's a point beyond which
obstinacy becomes stupidity.

Are you in love
with this drudgery?

I may be a sham d'Urberville,
but my little finger...

can do more for you
than all your blue-blooded ancestors.

I'm right.

You know I am.

Forget about all this...

and forget about that mule
you call your husband.

Go on. Hit me.

I shall not cry out.

Once victim, always victim.

That's the law.

I was your master once.

I shall be so again.

If you're any man's wife...

you're mine.

My own dear husband...

I shall die soon
unless I get word from you.

All my letters
have remained unanswered.

I long for one thing only...

and that is to see you again.

Come back to me, Angel.

Come back and save me
from the thing that threatens me.

Any reasonable person
would call this a ludicrous situation.

I offer to help you.

You and all your family.
But no.

You prefer
to turn yourselves into gypsies.

- Please, go away.
- In other words, Mrs. Clare...

you're asking me
to let you starve in peace.

- Is that it?
- Go away!

You'll be civil yet.

Hey!

Hey!

What's to become of me
and my poor little mites?

We be the Durbeyfield family.
'Tis written there, isn't it?

Oh, 'tis written plain enough,
I grant you...

but the rooms have been taken.

You never sent a deposit.

He means the money
to be paid on account, Mother.

There's more in life
than money, sir.

You cannot leave these poor,
fatherless children in the street.

- 'Twould be a crime!
- Oh, missus...

Hospitality's sacred,
even among the pagan Turks.

Please, missus,
'tis your own fault.

We'll see about that.

We're true descendants
of the knightly d'Urbervilles.

Nobody leaves us in the streets
like 'orse apples...

not in the home
of our ancestors.

Our bones are in the crypt there,
laid out in their coffins!

Mother, I beg you.
Don't take on so.

No, my girl, what's true is true.
Your poor father's eyes are on us.

We mustn't shame him.

The Lord will protect his own,
and the wicked shall be punished.

Bain't you stopping here, then?

No, my good man.
We're going on.

"Good man"? My beasts are spent.
I ought to be gettin' back to Marlott.

Sir, wait! Wait!

Now, unload it all.

- Where?
- Here.

- Here?
- Yes, here.

We shall camp
beside our church...

until the town of our ancestors
finds us shelter.

Now, come on, children.
Set to work.

Why am I on the wrong side
of this door?

# Bye, baby bunting #

# Daddy's gone a-hunting #

# To get a little rabbit skin #

# To wrap her baby bunting in #

# Bye, baby bunting #

# Daddy's gone a-hunting #

- Who's there?
- It's me, Father.

Angel.

My boy! My poor boy!

I've been ill,
but I'm quite all right now.

Why have you
treated me so monstrously, Angel?

I do not deserve it.

I have thought it over carefully...

and I can never,
never forgive you.

You are cruel.

I shall try to forget you.

All I have received
at your hands is injustice.

Mr. Durbeyfield?

Beg pardon?

You are Mr. Durbeyfield?

- Oh, they don't live here no more.
- Since when?

Since John Durbeyfield died.

Do you know where they went?

"John Durbeyfield, 1832 to 1888.

More properly d'Urberville...

of the once-powerful family
of that name...

and directly descended
through an illustrious line...

from Sir Pagan d'Urberville,
one of the Knights of the Conqueror.

How are the mighty fallen."'

Ah, yes. How indeed.

May I? For the poor.

I prefer to settle
the mason's account.

He has never been paid
for his work.

They were an odd family.

My colleague, Mr. Tringham, would have
done better to keep his mouth shut.

I should like
to see Mrs. Clare.

Mrs. Clare?

Tess.

Yes, I know.
She's not here.

You are Mrs. Durbeyfield?

Yes.

Where is she living?

I don't know.

I'm her husband.

I guessed as much.

Then tell me where she is.

Please, tell me.

Leave her.

Leave her in peace.

My poor girl's suffered enough.

She don't care to see you, sir.
Never.

Mrs. Durbeyfield...

take pity on a lonely,
wretched man.

Tell me where to find her.

I beg you.

- She's at Sandbourne.
- Sandbourne?

But where?
It's a large town these days.

That's all I know:
Sandbourne.

Excuse me.

I'm looking for a Mrs. Clare.

Would you by any chance
know her address?

Oh. Uh, George,
you got a Clare on your round?

Clare?

No. We get a lot
of visitors here, you know.

Or a Durbeyfield.
Miss Durbeyfield.

- There's d'Urberville at The Herons.
- That's it.

Ah, 'tis a boarding house, sir.
Can't miss it.

Whereabouts?

Yes?

Please excuse me
for calling at this hour.

Do you have a Teresa d'Urberville
staying with you?

Mrs. d'Urberville, you mean?

Yes.

Please come in.

Would you tell her
that a relative is anxious to see her?

It's rather early, sir.
What name shall I give?

- Angel.
- Mr. Angel?

No, Angel.
It's my Christian name.

She'll understand.

I'll just go and see
if she's awake.

Tess...

I came to ask your forgiveness.

- It's too late.
- Too late?

My darling wife, I've come
to fetch you. I'm going to...

Don't... Don't come near me,
Angel, please.

Too late.

I'm not the man I was.

I've suffered too.

I humbly beg you to forgive me.

Yes.

Oh, yes, yes.

But I tell you, it's too late.

Don't you know it all?
Don't you...

How did you find your way here?

I had to...
I saw your mother.

Oh.

I waited and waited for you...

but you didn't come.

I wrote to you,
and you didn't come.

He has been good to me.
To all of us. He...

He has won me back to him.

He's upstairs.

Go now, Angel.

Go, please.

And never come back anymore.

Good morning, my dear.

Well, what's the matter now?

Hmm?

You feeling unwell?

Is that why you have the vapors?

Yes?

No?

Yes, I know.

We're moping, as usual.

For God's sake...

try and make an effort.

Did you have a bad dream?

Brazil, perhaps?

These morning hysterics
of yours are in poor taste.

Don't forget
we're lunching with the Bennetts.

I'd like you
to look presentable.

A genuine d'Urberville.

I came to tell you that I've...
I've killed him.

I've done it.

I don't know how.

I don't know.

That... That time
I hit him with my glove.

The blood in his mouth.

I thought
I might be capable of...

Yes.

Yes, it was from that day on.

What do you mean?

I mean I've killed him.

I won't desert you.

I shall protect you
by every means in my power.

Whatever you may
or may not have done, I love you.

I love you.

- Will they hang me?
- Hush.

We must get out at the next station
and head north on foot.

They'll be looking for us
in the Wessex ports.

Once we reach the north,
we'll go abroad.

Yes.

I have the makings
of a meal here.

Even a bottle of wine.

Rest at last.

We must leave at once.

We must leave here...

as soon as possible.

My life can only be
a matter of weeks.

Why not wait for them here...

since they'll catch me
in any case?

I'm going to save you.
Do you hear?

I'm going to save you.

Can't we rest here?

I'm afraid not.

By day, this place is visible
for miles around.

There are no stars tonight.

Perhaps we could have made
our souls take flight together.

Did they sacrifice to God here?

No. To the sun, I believe.

It was a pagan temple.

Older than the ages.

Older than the d'Urbervilles.

Do you think we shall
meet again after death?

Shh.

I'm afraid, Angel. I'm afraid.

It's no use, sir.

The whole country's roused.

She's sleeping.

Just a little longer?

Have they come for me?

Yes.

I am ready.