Original subtitles

THE RED AND THE BLACK Part Two

THE RED AND THE BLACK A Chronicle of 1830

Roberto! Sorel's boots.

Ah, there.

Come on, move along.

The left foot, please.

There ... now the other one.

There we are.

Very good, nice!

Want to walk a little?

Try them out.

Move your feet.

You've noticed our little museum?

These shoes are the emperor's.

- You made shoes for the Emperor? - Yes.

We've fitted the court of France for 150 years.

Anyone here?

Have a care, sir!

For that?

If only there was a foot inside. And as for these shoes...

Enough of this, sir.

Keep out of it.

Your address?

You've got no shoes, and you want an appointment?

Signori! No!

- Calm down, please! - You offend me.

Your address.

Calm down, signori.

You offend me.

Give him your card, sir!

My card? I have cards! Ha!

You're lucky.

If one of those had touched me, I would've killed you on the spot.

Bastard! Watch your mouth!

I don't know anyone in Paris.

Would you be my second?

Who is this man?

The Marquis de Croisenois.

I've never seen him before, but I know that name.

I think I've already fitted that family.

I'll be your second on one condition.

If you don't wound the wretch, you'll fight me.

Agreed, sir.

This is done in Paris?

When we don't have the honour of knowing.

Where do you live?

46, rue de Varenne.

Could you tell me where it is?

I must introduce myself today.

Here we are, my friend.

Is that all? Is that some contribution to parish costs?

- Sir! - What?

- Hooligan!. - It's nothing.

I'll bust his head.

This isn't the time to have a fight on my hands.

The Marquis is waiting.

You wear the black coat well.

Too elegant for a clergyman?

Yes, but good enough for mourning.

Here there's a whole nation of lackeys.

They'll be jealous by definition, they'll tend traps.

I defy them. Let them try.

- Gentlemen ... - They will try.

Marquis, this is Julien Sorel.

And here is the Marquis de La Mole. Welcome.

The coat's fine.

How many shirts did you bring?

Two.

That's a start. Get twenty more. Norbert!

I beg your kindness: M. Sorel is now part of my staff,

and I intend to make a man of him, if it can be done.

Do you ride?

No more than half a dozen times.

Well, next time will be the seventh.

Tomorrow, then?

Do you object if he takes dance lessons?

- Well, he's not a priest... - It'll do him good.

He has a certain something of the Provinces which can be refined.

Don't you think so?

Arsene, you're in M. Sorel's service.

Ah, I almost forgot to tell you ...

Every day at 5:30, you will need to dress for dinner,

and don't forget your beautiful shoes and stockings.

See you later.

Well?

Terribly urbane, isn't he?

It's not words that hurt me.

Am I no more a man of the church?

Yes, but what am I to them?

A valet necessary for their salvation.

I won't be staying here long.

There's wealth for a man of our dress

from these lords.

I won't bear it.

You'll need to, though.

I'll always have dinner with them?

It is a duty or a kindness for me?

- It's a distinguished honour. - I don't want it.

Get me permission to have dinner in a dark hostel.

That's Mademoiselle de la Mole, the Marquis' daughter.

- I hope she didn't hear you. - I do.

She couldn't despise you any less.

The son of a carpenter in the pay of her father.

You have no idea of that contempt.

You'll be paid exaggerated compliments.

If you're a fool you'll get used to them.

If you want to make a fortune you'll have to accept it.

Yes sir?

I'd like to see M. Croisenois.

At this hour?

Give him his card.

A further arrogance.

This man will leave us in the hall.

He'll make us wait three quarters of an hour while he curls his hair.

Then I'll kill him twice.

To see that boorish face yesterday,

I wouldn't have imagined an elegant place like this.

Don't you think?

Huh? Sorry, I hadn't noticed.

That's my name, sir, but I don't know the honour.

I came here to fight with you.

I figured.

It would be ungracious to refuse you.

But, really ...

I was insulted yesterday.

That's too bad.

Sir!

I won't refuse a pistol.

Thank you, sir.

But M. Sorel has no quarrel with you,

because another stole your card.

How regretful.

Another time, maybe.

His vest is from Staub, that's clear.

It's in good taste, the boots are fine.

But a black coat this early in the morning?

There he is!

I know you, you oaf!

What is it?

He's the one who threw your cards at me.

In that case, there's grounds for a duel.

I should think so. I'll dismiss this rogue.

By your leave.

Gentlemen ...

Let's go somewhere quiet.

Do you use firearms?

No. We fight with swords.

Sir!

Sir!

It rains, it rains, O shepherdess, Now bring in your white sheep...

Come into the cottage...

Good evening.

Quickly, Sheperdhess, let us go...

- Good evening. - Good evening.

Good evening.

I've got news of M. Sorel.

- Is he sick? - I shot him in the arm this morning.

What?

You shot M. Sorel?

I didn't know who he was.

To be beaten by your secretary,

that would be a ridiculous possibility.

You have some ability, but I advise you to wait,

before your first duel. It will be safer.

You didn't say that you were injured.

It's nothing.

I fell off a horse.

Your horse just came to tell me the news.

I have an admirable idea.

And Madame de la Mole just gave it to me.

Ah, here he is.

M. Sorel, do you mind if we said ...

The idea came from you, you can say it better.

Well ...

M. Croisenois has a romantic spirit.

He's fought with the son of a friend.

A gentleman whose name we will withhold.

And not with the son of some carpenter.

That's it.

I'll stick to this story.

If M. Sorel allows it.

I see.

I appreciate this honour.

You've accomplished a big step in your life in Paris.

Let's have dinner.

In a dark hostel?

The first law of all being is self-preservation. You sow hemlock and expect to see ripening corn. - Machiavelli.

Arsene, bring my luggage.

So? Is it him?

It's funny, he already has an English bearing.

Well, after three weeks in London to discuss my case...

He saw many Englishmen?

Their jurists are alike.

But the laws aren't the same.

That's the first proof of their foolishness.

- Where did you get these ideas? - In the books you won't let me read.

I've forbidden you from that.

You wouldn't like it if I was stupid.

I know, but you could try a little.

From time to time.

Enter!

Ah, hello, Sorel.

It seems that you are a little English.

According to my daughter.

Unfortunately, I don't like them much.

What have they done?

To me, nothing, miss.

You got my letters?

All ended well, your case is won.

- You worked well. - Let's just say I worked.

To work enough is to work well.

Well said.

If you'd allow me ...

What ideas have you brought us from abroad?

Firstly, the wisest man in England is insane for an hour every day.

Secondly, intelligence and genius are depreciated by 25%,

upon setting foot in England.

And thirdly, nothing is more admirable, more beautiful

more moving, than the English countryside.

Did you see any man of wit?

I saw Philip Vane who said,

excuse me, M. Marquis,

''The tyrant's most useful idea is God."

You can leave that idea in England.

I'll bet, M. Profundity,

that you don't know what you were looking for there.

Tend more closely to your affairs and you'll find out.

So take this medal.

The medal, sir?

I don't deserve ...

You don't deserve the medal?

You've got it.

Sir, this is too generous.

This medal shows you are a secretary in my house.

I don't wish to raise you above your proper station.

That's a mistake that's unfortunate,

for both the protector and the protected.

You are now decorated.

When my lawsuits begin to bore you, or you're no longer acceptable to me,

I'll find you a good parish,

like your Father Pirard.

That's all.

Go and rest, my friend.

See you later.

Hey!

- Have a good trip? - Great, thanks.

But ...

The Marquis gave me this surprise.

It's a surprise to me, too.

My compliments.

Well, sir, thank you.

For what?

The red ribbon he's just met.

He's been asking for a medal for 18 months.

It's out of love.

Yes, Julien is fun.

This does not become you, dear M. Mole.

Indeed. I'm boring.

I admire her beauty, but I'm afraid of her mind.

Lights.

Oh, it's magical.

I arrived too early, how provincial of me.

We'll always be, a little.

Not you, my friend.

This dress fits you a little too well.

- In this house ... - As for that decoration,

it doesn't suit you at all, in my opinion.

Oh, M. Sorel, I'm so happy to see you.

I want him to go back to Besancon.

Too late.

You shouldn't have released him into the world.

M. Sorel ...

Have you ever seen such a wonderful ball?

I see little. I spend my time writing.

How wise you are, M. Sorel.

Such extravagance astonishes you without seducing you.

On the contrary.

It doesn't astonish me but always seduces me.

If he is to be lost then he should do it quickly.

Then I won't have to think about him.

Lost? He'll be a bishop in seven years.

Yes ...

That's what I say.

Who's with Sorel? Count Altamira?

Yes, that's him.

He came to seek refuge in Paris.

If I went back to my king,

I'd be hanged in 24 hours.

And ...

Thank you.

It's one of those moustached gentlemen,

who will take me back to the border.

The wretches!

You're very young.

In France, we do the cruellest things,

but without cruelty.

A condemned man at a ball What could be more amazing?

His failed conspiracy was ridiculous.

He's most interesting.

How?

The death sentence

is the only thing that you can't buy.

A title can be bought.

A medal can be given, like yours.

A degree obtained.

10 years in a garrison and a relative in the ministry,

and you become a squadron leader.

As with my brother.

But the death sentence must be earned.

Marry a criminal, then, you'll be very happy.

Why not?

If he was a man.

Yes ... he was in love.

- It was his weakness. - Who?

- Danton, miss. - But he was only a butcher.

No, miss.

You say that because he was ugly. You talk like a woman.

There is more than ugliness if you concern his soul and not his face.

You don't wear anything.

Only that beard.

What a face! Are you in a bad mood?

Wait until the end of the ball.

What is it?

Baron de Tully. An attack of apoplexy!

- My God! - Never mind.

- Mathilde! - Well, he's old.

- He's over there. - Who?

The one you're looking for.

Can't a girl just look at people?

All right, quieten down.

We're not at the ball to be quiet, we're here to dance.

- Give me that punch. - Watch it, Mathilde.

Anger makes you ugly.

Let it.

Don't lose your head over this little priest.

The revolution in which I was involved

was not a success ...

because I refused to cut off three heads.

But could you do it now?

You're very young.

I'll respond to that when you've killed a man in a duel.

It's less ugly than sending him to the executioner.

Me, I'd cut off three heads to save four.

Or even four to save three.

Another Danton, maybe.

Although less ugly.

Fear not, there's no more Danton.

What would he be today? Not even the Crown prosecutor.

He'd have sold out to the Jesuits, or become a government minister.

Because, finally, this ''great'' Danton did his share of stealing.

Napoleon also stole millions. In Italy.

Otherwise poverty would've stopped him in his tracks.

And you?

Have you decided whether to steal

or sell?

Must a man who wants to wipe out ignorance and crime,

sweep across the earth like a hurricane,

doing evil however it happens to take place?

The best thing for me is to be M. de la Mole's secretary.

My father said that you want to leave for Languedoc.

Miss ...

Your father has a trial there. It's helpful if I'm there too.

A trial?

That's not the real reason.

I'm terribly hypocritical.

It's not hypocritical if you admit it.

Don't rely on that.

It's not simple, hypocrisy.

To my brother, you have an air of a priest.

I am a priest.

You look different when we're alone.

Really?

I hadn't noticed.

Thank you for warning me.

We won't be alone together any more.

Does it scare you?

No. But I know my place.

That's why I'm leaving.

I'll ask my father for you to stay.

Do nothing.

He would obey you.

Don't you like me being here?

I saw you insult M. Croisenois.

I'm a man, I disliked it.

For him, for you and for me.

What do you care about M. Croisenois?

Treat him as you understand him.

- But I won't play this game. - What game?

Exactly. I don't know which.

In the end, it's too complicated.

You show me friendship. You may be sincere,

or want to make me appear ridiculous

along with your brother or M. Croisenois.

Nothing proves otherwise to me.

I'm not comfortable here.

So I've asked to get away for a while.

You again? Don't stop working.

That would be difficult.

- Are you coming to the opera tonight? - It's April 30!

That's right.

You'll understand.

April 30, 1574,

our ancestor Boniface de la Mole was beheaded.

It's in the third volume of Moreri.

Ingrained in the head of a romantic young girl.

Each year, my dear girl goes in mourning for the anniversary.

On this day she thinks of herself as a widow.

Boniface de la Mole was the lover of Marguerite de Navarre.

My daughter is called Mathilde-Marguerite.

She believes she's inherited bereavements,

of her ancestors.

However, Marguerite de Navarre

dared to ask the executioner for her lover's decapitated head.

and bore it away for burial.

This tale was made to please my daughter.

What woman today would touch the decapitated head of her lover?

None. Thank God.

It's all too heavy for a young girl.

So, is the marriage contract ready?

I ... here, Marquis.

M. Croisenois will have no complaints.

He wanted my land, Villequier, I gave it.

''I must speak to you tonight."

''At midnight, take the gardener's ladder and come to my window."

''There will a beautiful full moon ...''

Two Ls in "Villequier".

Watch the spelling, my friend.

She's insane.

She wants me to climb a ladder to the second floor?

In full moonlight?

How dashing I'll look on my ladder.

Everyone will have time to see me,

even from the neighbouring houses.

What is her purpose?

To ridicule me?

Get me killed?

I'm not going to answer.

But if she's acting in good faith ...

Then in her eyes I'd be playing the role of a perfect coward.

In this case, if I don't go, I'd always hate myself for it.

Oh, not for her.

There are so many other women.

But there's only one honour.

"This is getting serious, my boy."

"It's all about honour.''

What poor devil thrown so far down,

ever gets an opportunity like this?

I'll do well with other women,

but never one so high up.

That said, I'll do it. Besides, she's pretty.

You can never be too careful.

I'll send a copy of the note,

to a safe place.

To be opened in case of "accident",

if I'm attacked in her room,

or if a servant pulls me down while I'm climbing the ladder.

What a lovely scandal.

I can tell you.

You're talking out loud, you idiot.

And her brother?

I haven't come to the fencing lesson.

That swashbuckler!

Maybe he'll kill me tonight.

Should I let this hour pass or should I go?

Off we go!

To arms!

I thought you'd forgotten me.

Forgotten?

I think only of you.

Sorry.

It's all right.

That looks like a rehearsal of a duel to the death.

''That's when the drums of the hideous Santerre,"

"smothered the voice of the unfortunate Louis XVI.''

It takes a long time,

for Madame de Marquise to fall asleep.

I've been watching you. You hesitated.

Don't touch me.

What's this?

I have all kinds of weapons.

Well ... we have to get rid of the ladder.

I've got just the thing.

What will my mother think seeing her crushed flowers?

Now drop the rope.

How am I going to get out?

There.

Your mother's room?

Yes.

What if she calls for help? A servant might shoot me.

Yes.

Fine.

In any case, there won't be any servants in there.

There could be one under your bed.

Maybe. Have a look.

Very well.

I'll check.

You thought it was an ambush?

Yes. There's no point in lying.

At dinner I tried to see,

who might do away with me.

You were very pale.

In your pallor I read the sentence of your family.

Your death warrant?

And you were afraid?

I was really afraid.

Is that what you wanted?

And you ...

You came here anyway?

You have a man's heart, Julien.

Mathilde!

Mathilde!

Mathilde!

Mathilde!

There's no-one else here.

Mathilde!

Mathilde!

Don't you like me anymore?

I'm appalled that I gave myself to the first one to come along.

The first one to come along?

I don't love you enough,

to have my head cut off for you.

I promise not to talk to you again.

What's this ...

Have you lost your head?

Punirmi Devo, Devo punirmi, (I must be punished)

Se troppo amai, Devo punirmi, (I love him so much)

Se troppo amai, amai is troppo,

Se troppo amai, Devo punirmi,

Devo punirmi,

Devo punirmi, Se troppo amai, Devo punirmi,

Se troppo amai, amai is troppo,

Se troppo amai, Devo punirmi.

She doesn't love me.

Why have I put myself in this position?

Yes, I love her.

I could for my whole life.

Me? A lifetime?

And her?

One night. It's not fair.

Mathilde ...

She's right.

I have too little credit to please her.

All in all, I'm a very dull, common person.

It's decided then, I'll kill myself.

But death would make her despise me even more.

No ...

I'll go up the ladder again, if only for a moment.

She'll be furious, pour scorn on me, but who cares?

I'll give her a kiss. One last kiss.

Then I'll go home and kill myself.

What's the meaning of all this?

I love him too much! I must be punished!

Who do you love?

It's the words of the song, mama.

Love him quietly, then.

I've got a fever.

The harpsichord's not going to help.

Has anyone ever wanted to kill you?

You don't know what it means to be loved.

Punirmi Devo, Devo punirmi,

Se troppo amai, Devo punirmi,

Punirmi Devo, Devo punirmi,

Se troppo amai.

It's you?

You didn't think of this, Julien.

Did you come to punish me for my atrocious pride?

Scare her.

The enemy won't obey me unless they're afraid of me.

Don't show her your love, Julien.

You're my master.

I'm your slave.

Should I get down on my knees and beg forgiveness,

for having revolted against you?

Careful, now.

Still be a bit mean to her.

A little.

Not too much.

With what can a young girl gamble? With her most precious possession, her reputation...

Miss! Mass 6 pm!

I'm coming!

I don't need you this morning.

Forget it, I can do it.

Why?

It's only the servants who are annoying.

And since you do without them because of me...

You're my master.

Even when you serve me.

- Don't talk nonsense. - Why?

You're not my master?

Are you sure you'll still love me in eight days?

You want guarantees? You have the right.

Go away and leave me.

I'll be dishonoured forever. That's a guarantee.

You'd do it.

You're not afraid of scandal.

But meanwhile, would you still love me?

It's not your position to put up obstacles.

It's your character.

- And if I give you a guarantee? - A guarantee?

A true pledge.

Wait ...

You'll see ...

A lock of hair? That's just a souvenir.

Not just a lock.

I'll cut my hair myself, as if I were entering Mt. Carmel.

I'm dedicated to you.

Stop it, are you crazy?

You lunatic!

Everyone will see.

Yes, everyone will see.

Do you want me to love you?

Yes or no?

Yes.

This is wonderful, Julien. There's no turning back now.

Fine.

Your father will drive me out.

That's right.

Then we'll go out together,

through the front door at noon.

Yes, Mathilde.

You'll accept a future so inferior?

Inferior?

But Julien, when there's a revolution...

There won't be.

Well...he won't throw us out.

I have weapons against my father that you don't.

Disgrace ...

That's a very powerful weapon in the hands of a girl.

I'll use it well.

Have I disgraced you?

Yes.

From top to bottom.

What happened to your hair?

You'll get used to it.

I know, but for the 6am mass...

Come on, hurry.

Mathilde!

Here!

Lovable!

Lovable!

The day you found her lovable you should have fled.

I behaved badly.

A monster.

Do you hear? A monster.

You are a monster.

No, sir.

I've served you well and you've treated me well.

But I'm young,

and I'm not an angel.

An angel!

Yet you're not a bad boy either.

No, sir.

And you know we...

No ...

What? What is it?

You, shut up.

You talk all the time. Go away.

No, stay.

This concerns you as much as me. And even more.

As for you ...

- You can kill me. - Fine by me.

Or get a servant to shoot me.

Get you killed, get you killed - pfff!

I'll write that I committed suicide.

Then everything will be fine.

How romantic! You're both mad.

Not me. I don't want him to die.

I can duel with Count Norbert.

I won't fire upon your son.

If Julien is killed, I'll die too.

And it'll be your fault!

I didn't say anything, it was him!

But I'll be in mourning first.

This is a mania.

Everyone will know I'm Madame Sorel.

Madame Sorel!

A smart girl, noble ...

- Beautiful. - Don't make me laugh.

You're not going to be a duchess.

- It's impossible. - What's impossible now?

Can we talk about this reasonably?

We're both sensible adults.

Until recently, yes. But now...

You will agree with me: an estrangement is imperative.

Agreed.

- On certain conditions. - No.

I'll make him a lieutenant,

- and send him to the provinces. - Bravo.

I love the province.

I wasn't talking about you!

Did my father imagine that I would be separated from my husband?

Your husband?

Never!

You hear me? You will not have my daughter.

He already has.

Don't be so indecent!

This gentleman should be made to forget a little, first.

I should know nothing about this.

And neither should you. Not even when he leaves.

The seminary, yes.

But before the seminary?

The truth, the harsh truth!

You have the letter?

This letter isn't suitable.

It's not what had been understood.

My husband dictated it almost word for word.

Unfortunate. All the worse.

In agreeing to write it, you've still deceived him.

Sin is still rooted in your soul.

I know somewhere quiet to talk. Come.

Sit.

Take this pen.

Here's what you write:

''M. Marquis de la Mole ..."

''My duty,"

''to the sacred cause,"

''of religion and morality,"

"obliges me,''

"to proceed with the painful step,''

"I am about to take in writing to you"

"M. Julien Sorel ...''

I can't write his name.

Write.

The letter won't be legible if you cry on it.

Let's finish here, I beg you.

''Mr. Julien Sorel..."

''Of whom you ask me the whole truth,"

"behaved in my house,"

"in a most reprehensible way."

There ...

Good ...

Is that comfortable, Lieutenant?

Wonderfully.

One moment.

Turn around a bit.

It doesn't stand out.

Pity.

Mathilde was right.

The good Marquis can't live without her,

nor she without me.

So there you are.

Lieutenant Julien Sorel of the Vernaye.

From Vernaye. And Madam was born in La Mole.

Take a few steps, sir.

Wait for me!

I don't see anything wrong with it.

She was wonderful.

And me too, after all.

I was loved by this monster of pride.

I'll get it.

My story is finished.

And the credit is mine alone.

All is lost!

That horrible woman whose children you taught ...

Read it!

''... sacred cause of religion and morality,"

"to proceed with the painful step I am about to take in writing to you..."

You told my father her name!

Quiet!

I didn't know she still loved me.

''... of whom you asked me the whole truth,"

"..behaved in a most reprehensible way..."

" and more that I cannot say ...''

''An infallible law,"

"now orders me to do harm to my neighbour,"

"in order to prevent an even bigger disgrace."

''I might have thought it proper to hide some of the truth,"

"Prudence might so desire, as might, also, religion."

''It's a painful part of my duty to add that I believe,"

"that M. Julien Sorel has no religious beliefs,"

"and if he enters in a Christian family,"

"He will cause scandal and disorder there."

"Poor and voraciously greedy,''

"by means of the most consummate hypocrisy,"

"and the seduction of a weak and unhappy woman,"

"he has sought position,"

"and reputation."

''He cloaks himself with a pretense of unselfishness,"

''but he has no other purpose,"

"than to make use of the master of the house and his fortune."

''He leaves behind him misery,"

"and eternal regret.''

The hearing is open.

No, we're not getting out.

We'll wait here.

What time is it?

We're having a bet, you want in?

Bet? For what?

That he'll be sentenced to death.

I don't bet.

I won!

I won!

Very well judged.

I cried when he spoke.

The lawyer made me cry.

- How old is he? - 23.

He's so handsome.

I'm starving.

It's sad.

We need to set an example.

Let's go out, we need to know.

It's only to be expected, with such an attitude.

He wanted to die, he got what he wanted.

It's not possible!

They can't kill him, he only wounded me.

Let's go, quickly!

If you go, you'll never see your children again.

There's nothing more to do.

It's over.

I don't want it to be over.

Xavier, Adolphe, look!

Look how your mother abandons us.

Louise! Come back!

No.

Go!

If God existed, I would fall at his feet, "I have deserved death," I would say to him,

"but great God, good God, indulgent God, give me back the one I love!"

They told me that tomorrow I can visit.

Well ... we'll see!

It's cruel to deny me one day,

when he has so little life left.

Don't worry, madame.

As long as there is life ...

Will you take him his food?

There's a priest with him now.

This is his.

He came for his pardon.

His pardon? What pardon?

When I say his pardon...

He should have been reasonable.

You know he refused the chaplain?

A seminarian!

He must return to the bosom of the Church, if he wants pardon.

The priest is explaining it to him, upstairs.

Then ...

When he publicly confesses,

and his solemnity is known,

the bishop, who has some influence,

will do what it takes to prevent the guillotine.

A pardon, Madame. It's earned.

That's the priest coming back.

So?

Nothing.

He said,

"I will not return within four steps of the Church."

He told me again,

"If I despise myself, what is left for me?"

Then he's lost?

He loses his body, which is little.

And his soul, which is everything.

Ah, madam.

Where is the little Julien I gave to you?

Help me see him, I can stop this.

A soul that refuses the good Lord will not fall back into sin.

What if I could get what he refused from you?

But doubtless he hates me.

He has the right after my horrible letter.

Horrible, indeed.

Does he know that my confessor dictated it to me?

And the jealousy that was in your heart,

did that count for anything?

Jealousy?

Ah, yes, I was jealous.

Why shouldn't I die in the church,

because I can't do anything for him?

Is that your repentance?

I have no other.

I deserve death because I lost Julien.

You'll pay when the time comes, Madame.

He must be saved.

Please listen.

You're his conscience, but there's nothing more there.

I'm his sin, let me try it.

Precisely because I am his sin.

Let Madame see Sorel.

I can't, she doesn't have a pass.

I'll take responsibility.

All right.

Go, madam. All means are good.

No ... I think I'll wait.

Don't wake him.

Gently.

Is that you? Is it you?

I'll see you again before I die.

In 13 years, I've never found a thing.

But it's the rule, and it must be done.

The black man.

They always chant, those animals.

It is forever ...

Explain to me.

I still believe I'm pious.

I know I've fallen back into my sin.

But when I see you,

all my guilt disappears.

All I am is my love for you.

Though the word love isn't enough.

I feel for you,

what I should feel for God.

Respect,

love,

obedience.

You could say to me:

"Strike down the jailer with a knife."

I'd have killed him before I even knew I was doing it.

Now,

I think that to save your life,

I'd give mine for yours, a thousand times over.

You say to me,

''Let me die."

''Don't ask me to appeal.''

And I don't ask.

I say to myself, "It is well,"

"He is going to die."

''It is good.''

Promise me you'll ask for nothing.

Even to yourself.

No. Nothing ...

You know, Julien,

I won't live without you.

I'm not asking, I'm ordering you.

Not to end your life by poison, or knife,

or any other way.

Do you swear?

And if we we were to die right now?

Dying?

But you're not serious!

There is no question of dying.

After another month they still won't have done anything.

You'll be here ...

I'll be here ...

One month ...

we'll spend it together,

in such a delicious manner.

I'll never have been so happy.

Never been happier?

Never.

I'm speaking to you as I speak to myself.

One month ...

That's a lot of days.

Many hours.

Be happy,

during this wonderful piece of life that remains.

Others think I'm dead.

You and I know that's not true.

No more dishonour for you,

no condemnation to death for me.

There's nothing more than love.

No avail to God or man.

Nothing more than us.

Madame de Renal was faithful to her promise.

She did not try in any way to shorten her life.

But three days after Julien, she also died, embracing her children.

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