Original subtitles

Dear Mr Clennam, we have crossed the Alps,

and have just arrived in Venice!

"Our journey across the Alps was quite arduous.

"The track was too steep and narrow for the carriages,

"so we had to use mules.

"Mine was quite a pretty one," she says, "and her name was Elena."

Elena! Oh, once I had a sweetheart named Elena! Bellissima!

Maybe it was the same one, eh?

Stubborn, was she?

No, no, you don't understand what he's saying,

he says he knew a young lady called Elena, not a mule!

Si, si, una ragazza!

"At the mountain hospice, who should we meet but, er..."

Yes, well, the rest need not concern you,

except that she sends her very best wishes to you all,

and she hopes you haven't forgotten about her.

Just think of it, Little Dorrit, so far away...

In your country, Mr Cavalletto!

And she don't speak a word of Italian!

She should have had me with her, I'd have helped her out!

I'm very, very glad you bring me here the first day. I'm very 'appy here.

He says he's ver-ry 'ap-py here.

Glad to hear it.

I'd never have got what he was saying, not speaking Italian meself.

Welcome to Venice, Signore. You've had a pleasant journey, I trust?

Tolerable, I thank you. Er, our rooms are ready?

All ready, Signore...

That is to say, the small salon is at present occupied,

but the lady and gentleman will be leaving very soon,

within the half hour.

You have the audacity, sir,

to place one of my rooms at the disposal of another person?

I beg you, Signore, not to be offended.

Signore shall have his rooms.

The best rooms to be had in Venice.

Signore... Would Signore care to speak to the lady?

She's a very genteel lady... an English lady.

I'll hear no more of the lady and no more of you!

You've treated my family with disrespect. I'll ruin you!

Load up the luggage, I'll not stay in this man's house a moment longer!

Signore, I beg you...

Come, he's said he's sorry, what more can he do?

Yes, hold on, Pa. I want my dinner. I'm starving.

I don't care, sir! I'd rather starve than take my bread

at the hand of a man who's insulted me!

Ah, Signore! Is it possible you might...

Look here, I say, sir!

Don't take offence where none intended.

Edmund Sparkler, sir, at your service.

Look here, sir...

I'm a man of few words and a bad hand at explanation, but, er, the lady,

mother of mine, in point of fact, doesn't want a row...

Well, that's all very well,

but when you bespeak a lot of rooms and they belong to you,

it's not very pleasant to find other people in 'em.

Oh, I know! But... the fault's not this chap's.

It's my mother's. She's a remarkably fine woman,

with no begad nonsense about her.

He tried to tell us it was time to leave,

but she was too many for him.

Regularly pocketed him.

- Edmund? - Er...

I do hope you have explained to this gentleman

that the Major-domo is in no way to blame?

Doing my best, Mater. Er...

Is it all right, sir?

My dear sir, the fault is all mine.

We are supposed to be leaving for our new apartments in Murano.

But I'm afraid our departure was delayed.

I throw myself utterly upon your mercy.

I say, Pa, what's taking so...?

Can you find it in yourself to forgive us, sir?

Madam, what I supposed an affront, I now regard as an honour.

You are very kind, sir.

Edmund?

- But Mater... - Edmund... Edmund... Edmund...

Do you suppose Mrs Merdle didn't recognise us, Fanny?

She knew us all right. She just decided she wasn't going to let on.

That's her way out of a difficulty.

Well, she'll see two can play at that game,

if we ever come across her again.

Dear Little Dorrit,

I wonder where you will be when you read this letter.

We were all thrilled at Happy Cottage

to hear news of your grand tour,

and Maggy in particular wishes you to know she has not forgotten you.

Bleeding Heart Yard is still greatly excited

by your family's change of fortune,

and Pancks remains quite the hero for mauling it out.

How strange it seems to me now

that I ever should have linked your family misfortunes

to the House of Clennam.

A foolish fancy. From now on, Little Dorrit,

I shall let the past lie in the past.

Amy!

Amy!

Eh, Signorina! Buongiorno!

- Buongiorno... - Brava!

Va fare un giro in barca?

I'm sorry, I don't understand.

- Fa niente! Arrivederci! - My dear!

Come away quickly! We do not speak to common men.

Well, you did say to try and speak Italian.

With the Professore, dear.

NOT with common men.

Shall we try a little conversation?

Tell me, Miss Dorrit, are you pleased with Venice?

It's very beautiful...

and strange, with canals instead of streets.

It makes me feel strange, as if I were dreaming.

That is not an appropriate feeling, my dear.

Mr Eustace, in his little book,

compares Venice very unfavourably with London.

He says, "The Rialto is all very fine,

"but nothing compared with Blackfriars Bridge."

Now you would do well to commit that to memory,

so that if someone should ask you what you think of Venice,

you will have something worth saying.

Yes, Mrs General.

But if someone asks me what I think,

should I not tell them the truth, if it offends no-one?

Conversation in society is not about unburdening the soul.

It is about the polite exchange of correct opinions and sentiments.

But how am I to know what is correct?

That is what I have been endeavouring to instil in you!

I am sorry, Mrs General. I will try to do better.

Hmm.

Ah, now we have arrived at the eastern portals...

All well with the works, Mr Doyce?

Well as can be.

I've made up my mind

to mount another assault on the Circumlocution Office.

Your invention should be put into production on a great scale.

It needs to be patented and it needs to be publicised,

and it can't be while the Barnacles of this world

are burying it under their heaps of paper.

They need to make up their minds what to do with it.

Or...or know that we'll take it elsewhere.

You'll never get an answer out of them. It's far better to put it by.

Let me see what I can do, and unless I have some success to report,

you'll never hear about it again. Agreed?

Agreed.

You'll regret it, mind.

First class, beautiful action, can't be faulted.

Magnificent horse, nothing wrong with him.

So he hands over his money and the chap says,

"Just one thing about this horse. He sits on eggs."

Well, he thought, that won't bother him much...

Oh, Lord...

Look here, this isn't about William Dorrit again, is it?

No, it's about...

Just wait a while, if you would...

Can't you see I'm engaged at the moment?

So he goes back to the fellow that sold him the horse and says,

"What's all this?" "Ah, forgot to mention,

"that horse sits on fish as well."

Well, bless my soul!

Mr Barnacle?

If you are at leisure now?

Precious little leisure here, sir, I assure you.

We are extremely busy here. Now, what was it?

I believe you have the particulars for an invention filed here,

by Mr Daniel Doyce.

Ah. Stop you there. Wrong department.

I should give him some forms.

Here you are. You can fill these in.

Won't do any good, mind.

So, Little Dorrit, I will fill in their forms,

I will do exactly as they ask of me

and I will force an answer from them either way.

As for the rest, all goes pretty well here.

The business thrives,

little Cavalletto keeps all the children amused

in Bleeding Heart Yard.

The Plornishes thrive in their new shop

and Pancks gets his rents. Maggy sends her love,

and everybody sends their very best wishes to you,

including, of course, your steadfast friend,

Arthur Clennam.

You enjoyed that letter more than Mr Eustace's little book,

I think, Amy?

From Mr Clennam?

Yes.

Don't tell Papa.

And don't let Fanny hear you playing,

or she'll take your clarinet away again.

Oh dear, oh dear, we do let 'em down, don't we?

They can't take us anywhere, can they, Amy!

Ah, Amy.

Mrs General and...

What is that?

It's one of your shirts, Father. I mended it for you.

How many times must I tell you, Amy?

You're a lady, now.

It is not for you to mend shirts.

Now Mrs General and I have been in conversation about you,

and we agree that you scarcely feel at home here. How is this?

I think I need a little time, Father.

"Papa" is a preferable form of address. "Father" is rather vulgar.

Besides, the word "Papa" gives a pretty form to the lips.

"Papa", "potatoes", "poultry", "prunes" and "prism"

are all very good words for the lips...

Especially "prunes" and "prism".

Pray, my child, attend to the precepts of Mrs General.

I will try, Fa...

Papa.

You disappoint me, Amy. You disappoint Mrs General!

You make her task a very thankless one.

I would never wish to disappoint you.

In the old days...

We do not refer to the old days, Amy,

I demand that you conduct yourself

in a manner satisfactory to myself and Mrs General.

If Miss Amy Dorrit will direct her attention

to the formation of a surface, with my poor assistance,

Mr Dorrit will have no further cause for anxiety.

- Thank you, Mrs General. - Thank you, Mr Dorrit.

Amy, why do you habitually hurt me?

Hurt you?

I would never hurt you!

There's a topic...

A painful topic.

You mean the old days.

I...I try not to speak of them,

but the Marshalsea, and the people we knew there

and in the little streets round about,

have been my whole life so far.

I know you want me to be ashamed of them, Father, but I can't be.

Papa! Call me Papa!

I was there, since you must mention it, all those years.

I gave my family a position there, and now I deserve a return.

I say, sweep that accursed experience

off the face of the earth and begin afresh!

Why can't you do it?

You, my dearest...

...my favourite child?

How can you expose your father to mockery?

There, there, now, Father.

Nobody laughs at you.

Everybody has a high regard for you, as they always did.

Come now, hmm?

Dry your eyes.

What would Mrs General think?

There.

Will you kiss me, Father?

It's very hard, Amy.

Why do you paint in the dark...

...my friend...

...when there is so much natural beauty outside?

Because I know my limits.

Do you expect me to compete with Titian and Tintoretto?

Best to copy what other men have done and make myself a few pounds.

Your father, my love, is an excellent man and generous to a fault,

but his idea of an allowance doesn't go very far on the tour of Europe.

Would you like me to write and ask him for some more money?

I'm sure he would like it.

It would give him ample opportunity to reflect

on what an idle spendthrift his son-in-law is.

Henry, I'm sure he doesn't think that.

Hmm, I'm quite sure he does.

Is there any wine in this place?!

You drank the last of it this morning, if you recall.

I shall return with reinforcement.

Oh, by the by,

the old man, with the daughters, is in Venice. Remember him?

Roast man?

I saw them all this afternoon.

I remember the roast man.

Could we see them, do you think? I should like to see Miss Dorrit again.

But you would have to see her anxious, pompous, preening father

and her clown of a brother and that walking corset of a companion!

But they are wealthy, however.

You might get a decent meal out of them.

Huh?

Huh?

All right, my love, if it pleases you.

We shall, er...send our card.

- Thank you. - Anything to please you.

A bientôt.

- If...you really want to please me? - Yes.

How long must we continue with Monsieur Blandois?

- You don't care for his company? - No...and nor does Lion.

Well, I confess I do.

He's a scoundrel, like most men, but unlike most men,

he makes no bones about it.

I admit it, I find him fascinating.

You don't find ME fascinating?

I find you perfect, my love.

I wouldn't change a single thing about you.

"Mr and Mrs Henry Gowan would like to inform you

"of their presence in Venice

"and to invite you to their apartments for tea."

I've told you, let the servants do it.

Who are these people?

Do we know them?

You remember, Papa. They were at the hospice.

She was unwell and silly little Amy embarrassed us

by fussing all over her.

I remember 'em well enough.

Oh, yes. There was a Frenchman too.

Looked like a villain in a play.

Yes. I do recall.

I think there was an unfortunate connection with...um...er...

Never mind, perhaps it would be best if we were not to know these Gowans.

What would be your advice, Mrs General?

That...would depend very much upon their connections in society,

and as we are not aware of those, I cannot pronounce.

They're very thick with the Merdles.

Ah!

I should like to pay a visit to Mrs Gowan,

and become better acquainted with her, if...

Papa and Mrs General do not object.

There you go again. You never think of anyone but yourself.

You're dead set on showing us up, I believe, Amy!

"Showing us up" is not an elegant phrase, my dear.

Nor, I'm afraid, is "dead set".

They suit me well enough, Mrs General, thank you very much.

It is my view that the Gowans' acquaintance with the Merdles

puts a completely different complexion on the matter.

Indeed. Under these circumstances,

I think I express the sentiments of Mrs General, no less than my own,

when I say that we have no objection, Amy, to gratifying your desire.

You must do everything that is civil on my behalf to Mr and Mrs Gowan,

for we will certainly notice them.

Would you excuse me?

Excuse me, Fa...

...Papa.

- Well, honestly... - Perhaps it would be best...

I protest! I protest against it!

Frederick, what's wrong? What's the matter?

"What's the matter?" How dare you!

Th-Th-That is the matter.

And er...how dare you.

Have you no memory? Have you no heart?

Why? What have I done?

How dare you set yourself up as superior to your sister,

after all she has done for you? For all of us?

For shame, you false girl, for shame!

I love Amy!

I don't deserve to be treated so! I was never so wickedly wronged!

And only because I'm anxious for the family credit!

To hell with the family credit!

It's all pride and pretension!

I don't give a fig for the family credit, if it causes that girl...

one moment of unhappiness!

I couldn't possibly have let you go

to the Gowans' on your own, darling Amy!

You'd never have made it here by yourself.

Thank you, Fanny.

I am very glad to have your company.

Here...

...a small token...

from your wicked sister.

There, that's brightened you up a bit, you little mouse.

Mrs Gowan!

Papa was extremely sorry to be engaged elsewhere.

Thank you for coming to see me.

We have been charmed to understand that you know the Merdles.

We met Mrs Merdle in Venice.

- You know, a delightful woman. - I've never met her.

They are friends of Mr Gowan's family.

So I understand. Is Mr Gowan here?

Yes, and would be very glad to see you.

But are you well...since that night?

Quite well, thank you. And you?

I am always well.

Will you come through? Henry is working.

You will excuse the disorder of a painter's studio?

Oh, we should be enchanted, shouldn't we, Amy? Is it this way?

- Oh, lovely. - You look very well.

Oh, Amy, I can't tell you how much I was hoping you would come.

Oh!

Don't be alarmed. It's only Blandois.

He's er...doing duty as a model today.

It saves me money and...

well, we poor painters have little to spare.

A thousand pardon, ladies.

I would kiss your hands, but I am forbidden to stir.

Don't you think he makes an admirable brigand?

Admirable.

I'd say he was born for the role.

I don't think the dog quite approves, though.

I'll teach you to disobey me!

Where's my whip?

I beg you, sir! Don't punish him any more.

See how gentle he is now.

Well, you're in luck, Lion, you have a charming defender.

I know you don't like Blandois, few people do,

but you must always obey your master.

It's a good rule for dogs and for wives too, eh?

Mademoiselle Dorrit. You are a connoisseur?

I... Not at all, sir.

Perhaps you learned to appreciate

fine things at Mrs Clennam's house? Hmm?

We are both friends of the House of Clennam.

But you, you are a special friend, I think.

Specially favoured?

Mrs Clennam has shown me great kindness, sir...

if that's what you mean.

But there is another connection, I think. Between you and her, no?

Do not forget.

Hmm?

Monsieur Blandois...I take it that you are alluding to my family's past?

Yes.

I am not ashamed to tell you that I was, at one time,

employed as a seamstress by Mrs Clennam.

She employed you as a seamstress?

I don't know what you mean, sir. Excuse me.

She doesn't know what I mean.

No matter.

Toujours gaie, hmm?

Toujours gaie.

Charming.

Oh, no! What's he doing here?

Who?

Young Sparkler, of course!

Did you ever see such a fool?

Now his mother's seen how rich we are, she's let him off the leash!

And...do you mean to encourage him, Fanny?

No, I don't mean to encourage him. But I'll make a slave of him.

And if I don't make his mother subject to me too,

then it won't be my fault.

I intend to humiliate her the way she humiliated me.

Oh, lord, look at him now!

Honestly!

Mr Sparkler...

Hello, sir...

We're going to the opera this evening.

We'd be greatly honoured if you'd join us.

Delighted, sir.

Overwhelmed by happiness.

Mr Sparkler, you are acquainted with Mr Gowan, I believe?

Pray, does he paint portraits?

I believe he'd paint anything, sir, if you got him the job.

Amy and I could have told you that, Papa.

We were there watching him paint a portrait this very afternoon.

Indeed. Do you know, I think I might engage him to paint my portrait?

I think, if I were you sir,

I'd get him to paint a portrait of Miss Dorrit here. She's, um...

she's a damn fine girl with no begad nonsense about her.

I thank you, sir.

You are very kind.

And now, with heavy heart, I must leave you, my dear friends.

But we have had a pleasant jaunt, no? But the business calls.

I have had intelligence today that calls me back to London.

Chère madame.

Cher monsieur!

Adieu!

Who knows when we shall meet again?

Well! That was sudden!

Very strange.

Lion!

Here, boy!

Lion?

Lion, come on.

Come on, boy.

Oh, God!

Lion!

- What's the matter? - Lion?!