Original subtitles

Another one.

A BEE IN THE RAIN

Based on the novel by CARLOS DE OLIVEIRA

Screenplay and additional dialogue FERNANDO LOPES

Director of Photography MANUEL COSTA E SILVA

Original Soundtrack MANUEL JORGE VELOSO

Executive Producer FERNANDO MATOS SILVA

Editor and Director FERNANDO LOPES

''To Jo�o Rodrigues and Maria Jo�o'' - �Ivaro...

�Ivaro!

�Ivaro!

She proceeded, all in white, led by her father,

amid the murmur of the organ and the whispered voices.

She was sure she was smiling.

But inside her a cry was forming which had always been repressed

and now, after 20 years, she still had it within herself.

Clara!

- What is she up to now? - Ask Jacinto to prepare the carriage.

''I, �Ivaro Rodrigues Silvestre, tradesman and farmer from Montouro,

''in the parish of S�o Caetano, Borough of Corgos,

''do swear on my honour that I have continually stolen

''from men on Earth and God in Heaven.

''Even when I was serving as the Lady of Montouro's butler,

''and maize for the poor was in excess

''I filled my own granary with it.

''In my defence I also swear that all I did was prompted

''by D� Maria dos Prazeres Pessoa D'AIba Sancho Silvestre... ''

- My wife. - ''My wife,

''and that I never stopped stealing, at the counter, at the fairs,

''from the workers' wages

''and the inheritance of my brother, Leopoldino, to whom I am the trustee

''selling his lands without his knowledge,

''and who, to my shame, is now returning from Africa

''and I cannot give him the correct accounts.

''My remission begins with this confession to the world.

''May the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost

''have mercy upon me and anyone else who can do so.''

The first page of the next issue.

- I'll pay whatever you ask. - Bu why this public confession?

I must settle my accounts with God and mankind.

- Above all with God. - What does your wife think about this?

She must never find out!

But, dear Silvestre, she's bound to when the newspaper comes out.

I won't care then. As they say,

'In for a penny in for a pound'. So, how much are you charging me?

Damn, here she comes!

It seems I'm disturbing you. Aren't you going to introduce me?

Maria dos Prazeres Pessoa D'AIba Sancho Silvestre.

Just imagine, he walked all the way, from Montouro in this weather.

I don't know what brought him here. Whatever it was,

he has been sick, having strange ideas

and you must excuse him.

Enough, Maria! Let's go!

Didn't Dr. Neto advise you to rest?

Where are your boots?

I think I'm dreaming.

If it's daytime, then light is not enough to light a stony path.

It it's night, the stars shine with an unusual brightness.

On our way everything looks dead.

Time is either tired of this long journey, or asleep,

or it's also dead.

I have forgotten the familiar landscape.

And can only see a long, undulating desert,

the fleshy and twisted silhouette of the cacti,

the sharp pebbles in our path.

It is raining. Something like that.

Jacinto, what is it?

Indifferent, eh?

Superior to the hardship he gives me, to the life he forces me to lead.

His Excellency nods and sleeps,

indifferent to what I say and to the world.

For twenty years I have been listening to his snoring,

Tiptoeing, so as not to waken him.

I may be wrong but I think the horse may be lame...

Don't worry. Keep going.

Jacinto! Stop and see if the horse is lame!

Well?

- He is, it's what I said. - Alright, alright.

Go slowly, Jacinto.

And even if they tell you to flay the horse, don't do it.

Removing the last leg from one of these chickens

that the natives sold me for the price of a cow

and amazed by the sun's immense disc, diving at the end of the desert,

suddenly, framed against the redness of the sunset,

I saw a man on a mount. He was unquestionably European,

because he was wearing an overcoat. The moment I saw him,

the man swayed, fell down

and started slowly crawling towards me.

In a desperate effort he straightened up,

and staggered a few steps.

Then he fell again and remained prostate, as though dead,

against a tall tuft.

I shouted at one of my hunters to go and help him.

And when he came back, holding the man in his arms,

whom do I see? Jos� Silveira.

Or rather, his poor skeleton

with the bones sticking out of the skin,

which was drier than parchment and more yellow than egg-yolk.

His eyes were aghast, like two blood clots,

and his hair, formerly grey, was now completely white.

''Water, he moaned''.

''Water for the love of Christ''.

�Ivaro.

�Ivaro.

What were you doing in Corgos?

What paper was that you hid so quickly?

''My dear �Ivaro.

''Here I am after six years in the inland.

''Africa is indescribable. One has to come and see it.

''Where I was the natives were not bad people.

''After being tamed, which, even so, was difficult,

''they came with me in my quest, for treasures, near Solomon's mines.

''In Montouro we had a book on that which my sister-in-law bought.

''The chief of the tribe gave me 30 Natives, two elephants, luggage

and two women for my personal use''.

Don't read this part to my sister-in-law.

Don't forget that a black woman when squeezed

is juicier than an orange. It is simply necessary to fill her

with some of the spirit they have here.

I'd like to see a white woman who could match that.

- Why were you at the newspaper? - Get off my back!

I will. When you are less drunk.

Who's drunk? Who? You fucking aristocrat!

You only talk about coats-of-arms,

but I've been feeding you for 20 years!

My father had a coachman who spoke like you.

And once he had no choice but to have him whipped.

If he were still alive, what wouldn't he do to you?

You're drunker and more vulgar than any coachman.

Maria!

Open the door, Maria.

For God's sake, open the door.

I want to apologise.

It was the brandy talking, not me!

I know it was the brandy.

Now leave me alone.

The coachmen are fed up!

God will spare you

From the burdens of this world

And the dangers abroad...

And if we're found, Jacinto?

Don't worry. It's still quite dark.

Damn my old man and his wish of marrying me to a farmer.

Look at the master. He's not man enough for his wife.

He did't even dare to give her a son.

Get off me!

- Come here! - Jacinto!

The coachmen are fed up...

Everything's gone.

The damask-covered chairs, the carved wardrobes,

the sideboard with very fine crystal,

the turned beds, the paintings on the walls,

the silverware...

Everything's gone with our tears.

The jewellery, the rings.

Everything's gone.

The rifles, the greyhounds, the horses, the carriages...

the old dagger studded with diamonds.

Everthing is gone with our tears.

The time is approaching when my most precious of treasures

will be stolen from me.

Oh Teresa, Teresa. Thus will they separate us.

Maybe forever.

I'd rather die a thousand deaths than endure this suffering.

Entire nights go by with endless nightmares.

Sometimes I see Teresa crying,

amidst the ghostly visions

that torture my suffering soul.

I hear her sobs and anguished cries,

torn from her bosom...

Oh Teresa, Teresa.

Thus will they separate us. Maybe forever.

Oh Teresa, Teresa.

Thus will they separate us. Maybe forever.

Oh Teresa, Teresa.

Thus will they separate us. Maybe forever.

Dragging Teresa to a convent further away

the hideous spectre of Balthazar Coutinho's cynicism,

sneering at our love and preventing our happiness.

Ah, but the villain will pay with his life

for his wicked proceedings.

Here come the tormentors of the innocent.

I can hear them.

I must hide.

May God protect me.

She was my only daughter, Balthazar!

Exactly. If you had another, the loss would be less painful

and her disobedience less dishonest. Now dear Uncle,

I see no other way than to put balm on the sore.

- We'll get nowhere with plasters. - You're right.

Uncle, she's coming.

- Teresa! - I am here.

- It is not too late. - For what?

- To be a good daughter. - My conscience bears no guilt...

It's not over yet? Don't you want to go home,

and forget this villain,

who is the cause of our misfortunes?

No, father. My fate is the Convent. I shall never forget him.

I shall be a disobedient daughter, but never a liar.

- In that case, let's go. - Not even here?

- Are you talking to me, Teresa? - I am indeed!

Not even here am I free from your hateful presence?

I am one of the servants that my cousin takes with her.

Some days ago, there were two worthy of accompanying her.

But a murderer out there killed them.

I offer my services for lack of theirs.

- I will do without your niceties. - But I will not do without serving you.

That's how it must be...

The final accounts have not yet been made, my dear cousin.

Simon.

It is incredible that this scoundrel should have come!

- Me, a scoundrel? Why? - Scoundrel and murderer!

Out of my sight!

I do not neglect your lordship.

Dear lady, suffer with resignation as I do.

Bear your misfortunes accepting the violence thereof.

And perhaps half way to your Calvary,

divine mercy will double your strength.

What is that villain saying?!

- Simon! - Calm down, Uncle!

He dares to comfort your daughter, vile though this act is.

It's too much.

I shall crush you right here, you villain.

The villain is he who threatens me without stepping one pace!

Haven't I made that clear? Punishing you before the servants!

You are mere scum!

If that is so, I hope never to meet your lordship again.

Such lack of dignity! I shall surely have him beaten

by the first rogue on the corner...

- Ah, riff raff! - Balthazar!

Now the time has come.

The most precious of treasures will be stolen from me.

Oh Teresa, Teresa.

Thus will they separate us.

Who knows?

Maybe forever.

Oh, I'd rather die a thousand deaths than endure this suffering.

Entire nights go by in endless nightmares.

Sometimes I see Teresa tortured,

seized by the same demons that haunt me.

I hear her sobs and anguished cries,

torn from her bosom,

asking Heaven for deliverance from her torturers.

Next to me, Mariana's candid face

begging, with joined hands.

Further on, I see Tadeu de Albuquerque

dragging Teresa to a Convent further away.

Next to them, the hideous cynicism of Balthazar,

scorning at our love and preventing our happiness.

Oh, Clara...

She slinks around, full of desire.

''Oh Ana, oh Ana, try to get me a man.''

And she eats you with her eyes.

The Hail Mary's.

Here come the tormentors of the innocent. I can hear them.

I must hide and may God protect me.

A strike is being prepared, Master Ant�nio.

Is it true that you love Clara?

Is it true that you love Clara?

Yes or no?

You know it's true, Master.

What would you say if I offered her hand to you?

- What would you say?! - I would say yes three times.

Well, she's yours.

I have some accounts to settle.

She's yours if you help me settle them.

I like the pay.

You've found your man.

We'll run away. It's a big world and one can live anywhere.

- What about my father? I'm afraid. - Never mind that!

Jacinto, I'm afraid.

Who is that with her?

Who is that with her?

I think it's Jacinto, Master.

- Silvestre's coachman? - I think so.

You think so, or you are sure?

It is him, Master.

We must catch him. Go and get your club.

- What are we going to do to him? - Are you giving up already?

- What will we do to Jacinto? - Do you want the girl, or not?

That's settled. Let's hide him and wait until dusk.

- It's you groaning, Master Ant�nio? - Like hell it is!

Then it's him! I never heard donkeys groan like that!

Hit him again, Marcelo! Finish him off!

Catch the animal!

Get him, he's taking our man!

Catch the animal!

Get him, he's taking our man! Grab him or we're lost!

I'll go after him, but I'm not coming back.

Well then say goodbye to the girl!

Marcelo, wait for me!

Marcelo! Marcelo!!!

Marcelo!

I'm back, Master Ant�nio.

So you are!

I knew you weren't a man to leave business unfinished.

Can I have Clara?

Hit him again and we'll see.

Get the club. It's time to finish him off.

Did you get him or not?

Jacinto.

Jacinto!

Jacinto!

Now you must give me Clara, Master Ant�nio.

Who knows? You may have won her.

We must hurry, Master, the sun is rising.

Let it rise.

- And as for the girl... - You said you'd give her to me!

But I've been thinking.

Do you know why we killed him?

Because you said so.

Good answer.

Clara!

Clara!

Clara!

So, will you give her to me?

I think you have lost her.

Clara!

Marcelo!!

Marcelo!

Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord be with you.

Blessed be You among women.

Blessed is the fruit of your womb, Jesus.

Hail Mary, mother of God, beseech us poor sinners.

Now and at the hour of our death, Amen.

Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord be with you.

Blessed be You among women.

Blessed is the fruit of your womb, Jesus.

Hail Mary, mother of God, beseech us poor sinners.

Now and at the hour of our death, Amen.

You must listen to me, Maria,

I may be killed and I don't want this on my conscience.

Don't abandon me, don't leave me.

The coachman was boasting about the way you looked at him.

They are laughing about us and our life. He was killed.

I went to the old man and told him his daughter and Jacinto

wanted to elope together and were flirting in the cow-shed.

The old man went crazy. I should have kept my mouth shut.

- I should have kept my mouth shut. - Don't worry, they won't kill you!

Dreams about dreams. Always one mistake on top of another.

- To forget you... and our life. - Shut up, for God's sake.

What I never imagined was that he realised it.

Even now that he's dead, I hate that damned coachman.

If it's of any good to you, I hate him too,

For having understood what was so much my own,

so private that I didn't even admit it to myself.

Now are you still surprised that I dream, �Ivaro?

Did Madame D'Arg�res show up after all?

Madame D'Arg�res did show up and spoiled everything.

Who invited Madame D'Arg�res?

No-one. The Baron told her.

And she came to the woods, as if taking a stroll.

C�cile, the Knight De Tellier and their friends were not too pleased.

But C�cile's father invited her to stay for the picnic.

That marquis! I always said he was an idiot.

The ruined marquis married Madame D'Arg�res.

Of course, the knight could not become his own mistress' son-in-law.

There's the desertion then. Do you understand, C�cile?

The desertion.

Love, as you have perhaps always wanted it.

The purity from cradle to death.

C�cile, C�cile...

Tresses unloosed over a trembling body.

Someone's hands, as gentle as the rain in the fields.

But what does all that matter?

Gracious me, didn't the knight do something?

Yesterday, she and I cried in the last chapter.

The tears, the ever-present radiance of the memory of Armand.

The happiness of renunciation.

Marriages of convenience.

Madame D'Arg�res and the marquis.

And Armand...

Armand lost forever.

I learnt the last words by heart.

C�cile's was too great a passion

to be burned and consumed in common love.

Armand Tellier and she finally realised that.

And now, in the gentle renunciation...

Where is the brandy in this house?

''In my defence I also swear that all I did was prompted

''by Maria dos Prazeres Pessoa D'AIba Sancho Silvestre,

''my wife,

''and I never stopped stealing, at the counter, at the fairs,

''from the workers' wages

''and the inheritance of my brother, Leopoldino, to whom I am the trustee

''selling his lands without his knowledge

''and who, to my shame, is now returning from Africa.

This film was only possible

thanks to the impartial co-operation of the following people and entities:

We would also like to thank the facilities granted by

Count Bobone in all the outdoor shootings.

Translation: Jacqueline Sarbib Subtitles: CRISTBET, Lda.