All language subtitles for celadasre

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The Romance of Astrea and Celadon

In 1610, Honore d'Urfe wrote

of a band of shepherds
living in 5th-century Gaul,

far from Roman civilization. B82

We portray these Gauls as
17th-century readers imagined them.

Sadly, we have had to move
their story from the Forez plain,

now disfigured by urban blight
and conifer plantations,

to another part of France
whose scenery has retained

its wild poetry and bucolic charm.

Fair Astrea,
what keeps you away from the feast?

The fear of vexing
my beloved Celadon's parents,

who hate my own.

Celadon isn't afraid to be there.

He's there to honour his parents.

To please Amyntha, even more!

He's only pretending to like her.

I ordered him to.

In that case, he's obeying you well.

Come.

If his parents see you with me,

they'll think you no longer love him.

It's what he wants.

Celadon is making merry!

For his parents.

Let's be seen dancing.

I've seen enough. I'm off.

Wait.

Let's follow them.

Enough. Let's go back.

If we were really lovers,

we would dally longer.

Let's go.

Come, my love.

What are they up to?

God, no!

You've seen enough.

The next day

Astrea!

Astrea!

Astrea!

Astrea!

Astrea! Can't you hear me?

Can't you hear? Look at me.

Answer me.

It's bold of you
to face me after wronging me.

Go cheat some other girl.

Find one who does not know
about your trickery.

My trickery?

Are you trying to test me?

Or drive me to despair?

Neither.

It's the truth!

It's common knowledge.

It is false.

Be quiet. I can prove it.

I saw you myself!

At the feast?

With Amyntha?

You know it was a sham.

A sham?

You two, behind a tree?

You told me to...

Be quiet!

It was Amyntha's idea.

Don't lie. I saw you.

Listen.

Be gone, deceiver.

Stay out of my sight forever.

Do you hear? Forever.

Unless I bid you otherwise.

Shepherdess!

Listen! Let me speak.

Do as I say.

You want me dead.

Listen! Look at me!

Let me go!

I'll drown myself at once.

Celadon! Celadon!

Celadon!

Celadon!

Celadon!

Where's Celadon?

I saw him jump in.

He was swept away towards the gorge.

Should I tell his brother?

Go get him.

Downstream, below the gorge...

Did you see anything?

No.

Let us move on.

This is the spot.

See how the river bends,

exactly as the druid showed us in his mirror.

There he is!

Is he asleep?

Is he dead?

He's still warm.

How handsome he is!

He's the one the druid told me of.

Take him to the castle.

We'll slip in by a back door, unseen.

No sign of him.

We searched both banks, down to the plain.

He must have drowned.

Fair shepherdess,

what misery!

For both of us,

for I have lost a brother

and you have lost a selfless lover.

Do you not speak?

Have you not wept?

Can it be

that his death has not moved you
to even one tear?

It hurts, believe me,

to see you unmoved
by the loss of a devoted lover,

as if he were a stranger.

Yes, Lycidas.

I grieve for your brother

but not his love.

It was shared by so many other girls,

they must be as sad as I.

You astound me.

Did he offend you?

Everyone knows but you.

Ask any shepherdess.
Celadon loved far and wide.

Suffice it to say

that I myself saw him yesterday,

fondling Amyntha at the feast.

I know. I was there.

It was a pretence!

He was forcing himself.

He said he would rather die!

False words.

Be quiet!

Now I know what killed my brother.

Yourjealousy.

You doubted his word

so he killed himself.

Am I wrong?

Say something!

Yes, I doubted him.

Can I help it?

Believe what you like

but I'm in no doubt.

Yesterday, after the dance,

he carved a poem

on a tree beyond the great meadow.

If you condescend to look,

you will recognize his writing.

You know it well.

See for yourself.

Shall I come too?

I'll go alone.

Well, Phyllis.

How does she strike you?

My brother loved her faithfully

but she, on a whim of groundless hate
and jealousy,

drove him away

in such despair

that he wanted to die.

Good God!

What are you saying, Lycidas?

Can she have done such a terrible wrong?

Definitely. She admitted only part,

but the rest

is easily deduced.

You should know

that from now on,

as my brother loved her,
so I shall abhor her.

'I could against myself conspire,

deny my heart's desire,

and score a victory

by claiming to love nobody...

But to pretend that I adore

another woman's conquering eye

as I truly do love yours,

would be too great a lie.

If I must,

then let me die

and let my death be nigh.'

Celadon!

Forgive me.

Forgive me for doubting you.

How your words stab into my soul!

How great the cost of doubting your fidelity!

Gods in heaven,

give me the courage to join him in death!

Who is this?

Astrea, Madame. And he is Celadon,

a shepherd, but of high birth.

His parents are Alcippus and Amaryllis.

The same Alcippus

who smote the mighty Visigoths?

He is a shepherd, not by force of need,

but to earn his rest by honest work.

God, he is handsome!

Let him recover his strength.

Sylvia, look after him.

What say you, Leonida?

By showing me the shepherd in his mirror,

was the druid not extremely wise?

True, he showed you the very spot

where you found the shepherd

but not the shepherd himself.

He said only that you would find

a priceless object there.

What else could it be but him?

The druid also said, remember,

'The first to see the other

will be the first to love.'

I saw him first

and I seem to feel

a twinkle of love for him.

Madame,

would you love a shepherd?

Have you forgotten who you are?

I remember, Leonida.

But shepherds are men,

just as much as druids and knights,

and every inch as noble

since they all share the same lineage.

So, if this shepherd is well-born,

why shouldn't he be as worthy of me as any man?

But he is still a shepherd, clothe him as you will.

He is honourable, call him what you will!

But Madame,

you are such a great nymph.
Lady of all these lands.

Have you the courage to love a shepherd?

A commoner? A rustic?

A pauper?

Enough insults, my dear.

Celadon is awake!

I heard him sigh behind the curtain.

Let us go.

#The sun shone so full upon his bed#

#that he was bedazzled#

#and knew not where he was. #

Where am I?

Am I dead?

#Remembering his fall#

#and believing he was dead, #

#he could only guess#

#that Cupid had lifted him to heaven#

#to reward his fidelity. #

#His misperception grew#

#when his eyesight recovered#

#and he saw two paintings on the walls. #

#One showed Saturn half-lying#

#on a wall with a scythein his right hand. #

#Hope, robed in green, and Cupid#

#tried to pull off his wings#

#while a garlanded Venus tugged at his hair. #

#The other showed Psyche#

#dripping hot oil#

#onto a sleeping Cupid. #

I'm with the gods!

Are you the three graces?

We brought you here to nurse you back to health.

We found you in the river

and carried you here.

Do you remember we met in your village

at the feast of Venus?

Fair nymph, I may be

too weak to recall it.

Has your ordeal made you forget

that after you won the footrace,

I, Sylvia, awarded you the garland,

which you placed on Astrea's head?

Everyone was amazed,

knowing your kin have been at odds

ever since your mother

was courted by both your father and Astrea's.

That's very true.

But how can I be with such great nymphs?

I, a humble shepherd,

and you, divine offspring.

The Romans say that
when this plain was underwater,

Diana lived here with her naiads.

When the waters withdrew,

the naiads retired to the ocean.

Diana replaced them
with the daughters of druids and knights.

She named them 'nymphs'

and left them in charge of these lands.

They may even marry,

as long as no man ever succeeds them.

Do not be surprised that I tend you.

Wherever virtue is found,

it deserves to be loved and honoured,

be it clothed in rustic drab
or royal purple.

You are doing justice to your food.

I feel better.

I hope to take my leave within two days.

How so?

Do I nurse you so poorly
that you would leave

before you have recovered?

I'm afraid to incommode you.

I must go home
to reassure my family and frends.

I am not incommoded,

as long as you are accommodated.

As for your family and friends,

without me, you would be lost forever.

Forget your village and sheep

and raise your eyes to me in future.

Did you hear me?

Yes, Madame.

But my wits are still confused.

In that case,

I shall wait.

What's the matter?

No more appetite?

This place spoils it.

But we care only for your welfare.

Fair nymph...

I am as wretched as can be.

People in pain have the comfort of pity.

I cannot expect pity

since my misery hides
behind its opposite.

If you and Galatea knew

how bitter is the cup that feeds me,

though any other man
would find it sweet,

I warrant you would pity me.

What would comfort you?

To be allowed to leave.

Shall I speak to Galatea?

I wish you would.

Has he finished his meal?

I left him eating hungrily.

You spoiled his appetite.

I told him he was better off
here than anywhere.

He has not the wit to know it.

What can you expect from a rustic?

Our difference in rank
awes him, I suppose.

It is idiocy, not awe.

Your perfection uplifts him

but his lowliness

drags him down.

It's no surprise.

Apple trees bear apples,
oaks bear acorns.

Nature reproduces itself.

He seems pledged to this Astrea.

He loves her.

But if he had any wits,
would he not prefer you?

You deserve it so much more.

Whenever I mention you,

he says how much he misses Astrea.

Earlier, I heard him sigh

and asked him why.

His answer would have moved
a rock to pity.

In short,

he asked me to beg you to release him.

Admit it, Leonida.

He moved you.

Yes, he moved me

to pity.

It seems to me,

since he craves to leave,

you should not hold him back.

You can't whip love into a heart.

He made you feel more than pity.

Enough of this.

He will leave

when I want him to!

But Madame...
Enough, Leonida!

My mind is made up!

You were right.

This house seems free and open

but it is a prison.

She said you will not leave

until she says so.

I'd rather die.

I wish I had drowned!

I shall try again.

Sylvia!

Go tell Galatea.

Think of your grief
if he dies in your care!

He won't. He is young.

We'll take good care of him.

All is well!
He was too weak to stand up.

But once he is up,
how can we stop him drowning himself?

We're three. He's weak.

Not for much longer.

If you would care

to leave it to me,

I'll smuggle him to my Uncle Adamas,

the chief druid.

I told you. He stays!

Meanwhile...

#I could against myself conspire, #

#deny my heart's desire, #

#and score a victory#

#by claiming to love nobody... #

#But to pretend that I adore#

#another woman's conquering eye#

#as I truly do love yours, #

#would be too great a lie. #

#If I must, then let me die#

#and let my death be nigh. #

Cruel shepherdess!

Still weeping?

How long must you shun
us young shepherds

for one who is gone?

Learn to love the living, not the dead.

Let them rest.
Don't mix their ashes with tears.

Be quiet!

Would you have Celadon die twice?

Since his death,

he lives on in my affections.

I will carry his memory to my grave.

I swear it by the gods!

Go, if that's all you can say!

I'm glad you no longer blame Celadon.

Before, I said you wept too little

but now I fear you weep too much.

Too much?

I'll never cry enough

to wash away my deadly error.

Semyrus is to blame
for making Celadon jealou.

Was he bothering you just now?

I want to weep alone.

Who is that singing?

Is it Hylas?

It's him.

Let's go see.

Come with us.

No, let me weep.

#... Stifling all manly qualms#

#Weeping like a babe in arms#

#Over some lost apple? #

#Surely we should call this sad man#

#Not a perfect lover, but a madman#

#If I am scorned, I simply leave#

#The heartless one to her devices#

#And before a new sun rises#

#I find myself another Eve#

#Only a fool ever strove#

#To force the hand of love#

#Look at faithful paramours! #

#They are always groaning#

#Tears, regrets and moaning#

#Are the best their love procures#

#It seems that, to be a lover, #

#All you need to do is blubber! #

#If I had to weep#

#For every mistress I have lost#

#I would have to weep for longer#

#Than my whole lifetime! #

If you did as I do,

you'd weep for only one.

If you did as I do,

you'd never weep at all!

There speaks a heart incapable of love.

How so?

Love desires nothing but itself.

It is its own centre.

Therefore,

it seeks contentment in itself,

inside its own circle

that begins and ends everywhere,

starting where it stops.

A fine speech!

But as for me, I think your words

are like the fables

that women use to lull the unwary.

Love desires only itself, you say.

Not true!

The opposite is obvious.

We desire what we do not have.

If you understood how
the infinite power of love

makes two people one,

and one two...

you'd know that a lover
desires what is part of him.

If you understood how
lover and beloved, reciprocally,

become one person,

while still being lover and beloved

and therefore two,

then you would grasp

what is beyond you.

You would admit that

loving his beloved and being loved,

the lover loves himself.

You have just proved

that two wrongs don't make a right!

In trying to convince me,

you propose even wilder ideas.

A lover becomes his beloved?

Are you then Phyllis?

By loving her, yes, I become her.

You're Phyllis!

Why aren't you wearing her dress?

A well-behaved shepherdess

shouldn't dress up as a man.

Let me enlighten you.

When we are in love,

what loves is the soul, not the body.

The soul changes into the beloved.

But I love the body!

As well as the soul!

The soul is the part I care least about.

The body is only an instrument.

If Phyllis's body is only an instrument,

take Phyllis

and leave me the rest.

We'll see who is happier, you or I.

#Far from me the idiocy#

#That leads only to sorrow#

#Learning much from others' woe#

#I am always fancy-free#

#And I could not care less#

#If they call me faithless. #

Days went by...

Tell me, shepherd.

Of all grave offences,

is not ingratitude the worst?

It is.

Certainly.

And yet you repay all my affection

with coldness and disdain.

Madame,

what you call ingratitude,

my heart calls duty.

If you wish, I will tell you why.

No doubt you love another

and feel bound by loyalty.

But nature's law has primacy.

It commands you to seek your own good.

What is better for you than my affection?

Only fools are swayed
by notions of fidelity.

Nature's laws

would never have us gain
by shameful means.

Is any act more shameful, more fickle,

than to flit like a bee

from flower to flower?

Madame...

If fidelity is no more,

what can I expect from your affection?

Won't my flat chest show?

You'll be wearing a shawl.

Have you dressed as a girl before?

No.

Well, Celadon.

I've kept my promise to get you out.

Don't you feel obliged to do

what you promised me?

What was that?

Didn't you promise

that anything you could do for me,

you would do?

I did.

Go on.

Love the lucky Astrea

as sincerely as you ever did

before she wronged you.

I intend to, as you know.

But also...

My help to you
deserves some sort of thanks.

And given the fact

that love can only be repaid with love,

you will have to repay me in kind.

What do you mean?

Don't worry.

A heart loves truly only once.

I'll settle for what's left.

Since your amorous love is all taken,

give me your brotherly friendship.

Dear Leonida,

I swear I'll always be your brother.

It will sustain me through my misery.

I must get back,

and you to your village.

I won't go there.

Where, then?

I don't know.

Don't you want to see Astrea?

She forbade me to.

Forever?

Forever... or until she tells me.

How can she? She's not here

and thinks you're dead.

I don't know.

Go to her.

In herjoy, she'll forgive you.

No, I'll wait.

For what?

I don't know.

- You're mad.
- Love is mad.

- Where will you sleep?
- Anywhere.

- Under trees.
- Eating what?

Herbs.

Roots.

I can take you to a hut

and bring you food tomorrow

but I hope you'll soon see sense.

See? It's sturdy.

Make a bed of ferns.

See you tomorrow.

Fair nymph!

What is this?

The food I promised you.

Enough for several days.

For longer.

I'm not hungry.

You must eat to live.

Live for what?

Astrea will take you back.

That hope keeps me alive.

Hope nourishes.

It's spring.
I'll find herbs, soft roots

and berries.

I saw a spring
full of watercress nearby.

As a gift, I would rather...

you brought me a flute

to play my song of sorrow.

If you eat my food.

Uncle...

I beg your help for Celadon,

a shepherd we saved from drowning.

I let him out to join his loved ones

but he hid in the forest

and everyone thinks he is dead.

What made him do that?

I think his mind is sick.

He is loath to speak and would eat grass.

Did he tell you the cause of his malady?

He speaks only in snatches.

However,

I think it is his love
of a shepherdess, Astrea,

who falsely accused him of being untrue

and refuses to see him.

So he jumped in the river.

I know Celadon.

He met Astrea at the feast of Venus

when he was 14 or 15

and she, 12 or 13.

Come.

At this feast,

they often act out this scene, here.

The Judgment of Paris.

Priam's son

judges three goddesses,
Pallas, Venus and Juno,

for their beauty.

That year, Astrea played Venus.

The girls were to pose naked,

away from the men.

Paris was played by a girl.

But he is naked too!

In the picture,

but not at the feast.

The girl played him dressed as a boy.

However,

the village girls told my daughter

that Celadon, the little scamp,

decided, when the roles were cast,

to mix with the girls, wearing a frock,

and was picked to play Paris!

His girlish face took everyone in.

Did Astrea recognize him?

I don't know.

They say she blushed uncomfortably.

But then again,
he was wearing a turban and beard.

She kept any doubts to herself,

for the sinner ran the risk
of being stoned to death.

I hope they'd have spared him

because of his youth.

What ails you, boy?

Secluding yourself in the woods

away from human company?

Can it be reasonable at your age

to desert your flock,
your kith and kin,

and live like a wild bear?

You say your love for Astrea
drives you to it.

But child, reflect.

If you have wronged her,

you cannot make amends from afar.

And if you did her no wrong,

how can you prove your innocence?

Previously, I agree,

you had some reason to avoid her.

But now it is time

to come to your senses and show her

you are notjust a lover

but also a man.

Being a man

is the least of my concerns.

A man's memory is all I have left.

I have lost all wit and willpower.

My only defence is that I am in love.

If you are in love,

should you not strive
to see your beloved?

If I'm in love,

how can I go against her wishes?

How can I disobey her?

Or rather,

how can I not love to obey her?

She ordered me to stay away.

But she is unaware of your obedience!

Lovers are amply satisfied

by knowing we have done our duty.

Celadon,

I see you are hard to convince.

My advice to you
was dictated by kindness

and my duty as a druid.
Don't take it amiss.

But I ask you one thing,

a favour you cannot refuse.

You see, my daughter,

whom I love,

lives with the druid girls, far away.

My fondness for you grows,
the more I see your face

It reminds me of hers.
You look so similar.

I hope you will not mind

if I disturb you now and then
for the pleasure of seeing

my dearest treasure's likeness.

Thereafter, frequent visits from Leonida

and the druid lifted Celadon's spirits.

Use this to write down your poems.

#Here my beauteous sun reposes#

#When the lazy sun retires#

#In the morning, when its fires#

#Glow afresh with pinks and roses#

#Banishing the night-time's fears#

#Long before the dawn appears#

#The sun which my heart embraces#

#Lights the firmament above#
#Bestowing on the land its graces#

#And filling it with love#

#All along this riverside#

#It shows itself in different ways#

#Sometimes shining all ablaze#

#Sometimes covering its light#

#As if it suddenly were jealous#

#And tried to steal away from us#

#Just as, behind a sombre cloud, #

#The sun conceals its radiance#

#Although it knows a flimsy shroud#

#Can never hide its brilliance#

#My shepherdess, in days gone by#

#Clasped my hand and promised me#

#'Whatever blind fate may decree#

#To be our mortal destiny#

#To Celadon I pledge my troth#

#With this everlasting oath#

#By this hand I swear to adore you#

#If you live or if you die#

#Or, if I should die before you#

#In my grave our love will lie'#

Subtitles by Nigel Palmer

#O secret, rocky places#

#Where we kept our trysts#

#Now, what more exists#

#Of those lost embraces? #

#Will the gods whom we entreated#

#Let their powers now be cheated#

#And allow our ardent prayers, #

#Hers and mine, to be in vain#

#Since she now our love forswears#

#And repays it with disdain? #

This carefree idleness is bad for you.

I'll take you to a sacred grove.

You can build an arbour to embellish it.

The grove around this tree

is sacred to Teutates,
Esus, Belenus and Taranis,

our God.

Father,

you said four names, one God?

Why not 'gods'?

Are these four gods

not the same as the gods we call

Jupiter, Mars, Mercury and Apollo?

No, child.

They were given those names

by the Roman invaders,
who worship several gods.

But they are not gods to us.

So who are they?

That is one of our great mysteries.

There can be only one God.

He is almighty or nothing.

If there were two almighty gods,

their power would be split.

Also, they would be
either identical or different.

If identical,

they would be one and the same thing.

If they were different,

then goodness must be
different from goodness,

which is impossible.

I've always believed
in a sovereign God above all others.

Butjust as mortal kings

have junior officers,

I thought there could be junior gods.

I saw Teutates as the chief

with Esus, Taranis and Belenus

worshipped below him.

They are all names of our great Teutates.

Then why,

in our temples and here,

are there statues of Hercules,

Venus,

Pallas,

Diana,

and Mars?

Aren't they gods?

Only to the Romans.

You should regard them,
not as separate gods,

but as several virtues of one God.

In Jupiter, you worship

God's greatness and majesty,

in Mars, His power,

in Pallas, His wisdom,

and in Venus, His beauty.

So doing, you will relate them all

to our great Teutates.

The Romans forced their idols on us

but we do not revere them as gods

because our God is One.

If I dared to teach you
our holy mysteries

and our religion's deepest secrets,

I would quote a wise druid, who said:

The names of Esus,

Taranis and Belenus

together signify a single God.

The Strong God,

the Man God,

and the Resurgent God.

The Strong God is the Father,

the Man God the Son,

and the Resurgent God is Love.

All three make one, Teutates.

To the Man God's mother,

the ancient druids raised an altar

with a statue of a virgin
cradling a child,

inscribed 'To the virgin mother. '

But these mysteries are beyond you.

Some are even beyond me, a druid.

I'll say no more lest I profane them.

Let's change the subject.

You may build around this tree

a shrine devoted,

not to Teutates,

since we Celts are forbidden

to make images of God,

but to Astrea,

the Roman goddess and Celtic symbol

of virtue and justice.

We could give her the features
of your fair shepherdess,

if you have the memory and artistry.

Father, I'm no artist.

As for her likeness,

I can lend you this

if you promise to return it.

Your folly is beautiful indeed.

I never saw a fairer face

nor one that shows more modest love.

Lucky the father who begot her

and the mother who raised her.

Luckier still, the man

who wins her love, and her.

In late spring, the shepherd folk

travelled to the Mistletoe Feast

at Adamas's castle.

'Unbelievers, venture slowly
If your love is less than holy

Come not near

In this sacred grove
A heart fed on love

Reveres divine Astrea'

Is this ourjourney's end?

By no means.

I do not know this place.

These poles are obviously new.

See?

The knots are still fresh.

The boughs have not yet taken root.

The leaves will grow again next spring.

Let's enter with respect.

Not I.

It is no place for me.

I believe my love is true

although you, Lycidas, disagree.

I know that I'm in love with love

but I cannot vouch for its holiness.

I was always told

never to trifle with the gods.

So you're deserting us?

Aren't you ashamed of your impure love?

Far from it.

If you understood me, you'd praise me.

I'm staying outside

because I respect this temple's deity

while you brazenly walk in and desecrate it,

knowing in your heart, despite your protestations,

that your love is not properly holy.

Great goddess of this place,

behold me.

I enter your sacred grove

respectful of your will.

I know my love is fit and pure.

If it is not,

punish my effrontery.

Two Cupids signify
the lover and beloved

competing to see

whose love is the greater.

Their bows, inextricably entwined,

teach us that they share all things.

One's strength is the other's.

Their wills are utterly combined.

As wise men say,

lover and beloved are one.

The Twelve Rules of Love.

Rule One.

'The perfect lover

must love infinitely.

Only extreme love is worthy.

Mediocrity is closer to betrayal

than to fidelity. '

Rule Two.

He must love in a single place
and revere its every aspect.

All the happiness he seeks
must be for that one subject. '

I don't believe that a single word you said

is written on that tablet!

Others here can read.

Show it to me.

The perfect lover must #not #love infinitely.

He must love in #many #places

and #always #have eyes for #new #places!

The happiness he seeks
must be for #many #objects. '

For that one object!

For that one object!

Shame on your sacrilege.

I didn't go in.

Stay outside and be quiet.

Does that portrait remind you of anyone?

It's our Astrea!

Who could have painted it here?

Is it not you?

Nobody here knows me.

How strange.

Yes, I don't understand.

And what about this?

'Bereft of my true good,
this false good comforts me.

Traveller, if you wonder

who gave me this portrait,

the answer is that Love,

bereft of its true good,

with this false good comforts me. '

Sister, this place amazes me!

Me too.

I can't tell if I'm asleep or awake.

I even remember him writing that line,

'Bereft of my true good,

this false good comforts me'

on the back of a portrait
he wore around his neck.

Did someone steal it from his body

or find it on the riverbank?

Don't cry!

This is a reason to be glad,

not sad.

See? He wrote it himself,

as sure as I am Phyllis.

It could be forged.

Not that well.

If he wrote it, he can't have died

by drowning, as you thought.

If so, what could be better news?

Sister, please, do not talk like that.

Celadon is dead.

The shepherds saw him washed away.

I won't say he's alive, but still...

if he wrote this, he cannot be dead.

Haven't you heard our druids say

the soul lives on after the body dies?

I've heard it.

Don't you remember

they constantly teach us

to bury our dead

and place coins in their mouths
to pay the ferryman to Pluto's realm?

And do you not know

that Celadon's body, being unfound,

forwent that final act of mercy?

His soul is probably drifting

up and down that wretched river!

Possibly.

But I'm saying he's alive

because I hope he is, for your sake.

I know that, sister.

But if I believed he were alive

and found out he was dead,

nothing could keep me alive.

I would have lost him twice.

If he is dead, as you think

and I do not,

you must feel comforted

to know that death
could not efface his love.

Which adds to my loss.

If he is dead,

he can see quite clearly

that your love is pure and true

and the jealousy that made you angry

came from that great love.

They say thatjust as we have eyes,

so our souls can see and recognize each other.

That's my only consolation.

I think we're lost.

Any ideas?

No.

You're supposed to know best.

I admit I'm a blind man leading the blind.

The trouble is, our blindness arose
from trusting your eyes!

If you weren't here,

we wouldn't be blind.

Why not? Did I steal your eyes?

My eyes, no,

but our vision.

You waxed on about your infidelities

and fooled with the rules of love

until the night was upon us.

You sound like those people who praise the wine

and then blame it for making them drunk.

'Friends,'

we should answer,

'why drink so much? '

Friend Lycidas,

why did you listen to me?

Did I capture your ears?

In any case, we're lost.

We need daylight
to pick our way out of here.

We'll rest under those trees until dawn.

#Walking deep in thought, #

#Celadon was suddenly astounded#

#to come across Astrea. #

#She had a kerchief over her eyes, #

#a hand behind her head
and the other on her thigh. #

#Her smock, raised inadvertently, #

#revealed her lovely leg. #

#What a sight for Celadon! #

#Surprise rooted him there, #

#bereft of pulse and breath, #

#gazing insatiably at these delights#

#and wishing he had, like Argus, #

#eyes all over his body. #

#As he feasted his eyes, #

#he said to himself, #

#'Away! #

#Remember her prohibition! '#

#But he could not help approaching. #

What is it?

Hold still.

Am I hurting you?

What makes you so pale?

Alas, sister! What did I see?

What was it?

I saw Celadon.

His mortal coil.

You dreamed him.

Don't be afraid.

Only fools believe in dreams.

In our sleep, our mind replays
the things we saw and thought by day.

Dreams don't predict the future.

They reflect the past.

It wasn't a dream. I saw him!

When he saw me looking at him,

he melted away!

Perhaps you dreamed you were awake.

It often happens.

I was awake.

I opened my eyes

and saw my shepherd's soul.

God, it was so beautiful and bright!

Only the sun shines brighter.

It dazzled me

but vanished in a flash.

Do you believe me?

Unlike you, I can't believe he's dead.

This apparition

seems to prove he is alive.

But I agree, don't raise your hopes.

If it really is his soul, all we can do

is give him the mercy of a grave.

I think you should raise a tomb to him.

An empty tomb.

A cenotaph.

It is our custom for warriors

and victims of fire and flood.

Come on.

It's time to go.

She's truly beautiful.

Did you know?

She says she saw Celadon's soul.

Souls are invisible. Silly girl!

She saw the man himself.

She thinks he's dead.

I can't dissuade her of it.

But it seems like a good opportunity

to rescue the shepherd from his misery.

When he hears how she misses him,

he will resolve to see her.

Let us find him.

I'm delighted to find you so cheerful.

What happened?

I saw Astrea.

I gazed on her asleep.

Did she see you?

I left before her eyes opened.

She saw you run away.

She thinks it was your soul.

She came to the castle.

She wants to build a tomb.

She loves and mourns you.

If you do not see her now,
you have no courage or love.

Courage, I lack.

Not love.

I can't believe you love her

if, knowing she loves you
you persist in avoiding her.

Love commands me to obey her.

She ordered me to stay away.

You say I lack love by obeying her?

She hated you then.

Now she loves you!

Even so, she ordered me.

Even so, I will obey her!

You already disobeyed by looking at her.

She didn't forbid me to see her,

only to be seen by her.

She was asleep.

If that is so,

you can see her, unseen, every day.

Must she be asleep?

Must I hide?

No, you may even talk to her.

In the dark?

In broad daylight.

Do you remember

I said you resemble my daughter, Alexia?

I'll announce she is ill

and coming home to recover.

You can pass for a girl

with your delicate face and fair skin.

Father, my beard is only light

but if I shave it off, it shows.

I will give you a herb

to make it vanish completely.

Your rumoured sickness

will let you speak softly.

No need. I can falsify my voice

when I sing... but also when I speak.

Adamas wants to see you.

This is the daughter I told you of.

I hope your company will revive her.

How may I mark this day
that brings the joy of meeting you?

The joy is mine for being here

at the Mistletoe Feast.

My father spoke of a newly built shrine.

Did he take you there?

Not yet.

It's nearby.

If you come to the window,

I'll show you the oak tree

where it is built.

See, on the right, a prominent tree?

I see it.

To which deity is it devoted?

In fact, she bears my name.

The goddess Astrea,

dressed as a shepherdess.

Strangely, those who have seen her

including myself,

agree she looks like me.

It was a wise choice.

Astrea, the goddess ofjustice,

is best portrayed
as a shepherdess with her sheep

since justice brings
peace and plenty to mankind.

But it was wiser still
to give her your face.

Astrea has deserted us for the newcomer.

She pays us no more heed

than if we were strangers!

Doesn't she look like someone we know?

Like who?

I don't know.

Her father?

No, a shepherdess.

A shepherd, rather.

Celadon.

No wonder she is eager to be with her!

Here is your room.

It was my daughter's.

Coming back to it

may bring back her health.

But tell me, Alexia.

How does Celadon feel?

I haven't heard from him.

Speaking for Alexia,

she swears she was never happier.

But you, Celadon.

Do you regret believing me?

No one could regret taking your advice.

Dangerous though it is.

I see your ailment
is not yet ready for the cure

that I prescribed.

I bid you good night.

#The long-awaited day#

#broke too slowly
for the sleepless Celadon. #

#Berating the sun's laziness, #

#he begged the dawn
to open heaven's gates. #

#Tell me, #

#what offence#

#or sin of mine#

#Has made you slow your gradual traverse? #

#Minutes, you are days#

#Days, you are years#

#Creeping towards an end that never nears#

#Century after century#

#you rehearse#

#Penelope's daily work#

#that nightly disappears#

#I think the sun is moving in reverse... #

Who's there?

It's us!

See what pretty girls I've brought
to help you rise?

Good morning!

And to you, fair shepherdesses.

How was your night?

Should I answer for her?

I warrant she slept here beside you.

Beside me?

In mind, if not in body.

It is quite possible.

I pondered our conversation all night.

What's this, my girl?

Still in bed?

What will these maidens

think of your idleness?

Father,

it's her fault for bursting in with them.

It is your fault

for lying abed.

They should give you a hiding

to get you up sooner!

Come, shepherdesses.

Alexia can get dressed without you.

If you will, let's spend today together.

And tomorrow.

I am bewildered

to be granted the joy of your company.

Fair shepherdess, the joy is mine.

In truth, I've had no greater pleasure

since I left home

than the joy of seeing you.

I could never doubt your word

but I hardly see how a poor
wretched girl like me

could possibly deserve such favour.

Fair shepherdess,

I never lie but if I did,

I'd rather die than lie to you.

Promise you'll agree

to let me spend my life with you.

Astrea.

I'm afraid...

you may soon change your mind.

If you knew me well,

you would know that is impossible.

I never go back on my decisions.

#Celadon fell silent#

#and stepped back#

#with the same look in his eye#

#as when she ordered him
out of her sight. #

What is it?

You suddenly seem different.

I hope it's not because of me.

Have I displeased you?

Fair shepherdess,

it's not your fault.

My heart reacted too keenly

to the words you spoke.

You see, among the druid girls

I chose a bosom friend.

I took to her so dearly

because I thought she loved me.

I could not live without her.

She felt the same for me, she said.

But then, after several years,

my fair beloved left me.

She refuses to see me

without saying why.

The shock of her reversal threw me

into my present illness.

How could someone so beautiful

and perfect as you

have met such a foolish girl?

Do not blame her.

Blame the dark star I was born under.

The shepherdesses are waiting.

Your long discussions with that girl

make me think that our shepherdesses

please you more than the shepherds.

It is only natural
to be fond of our own kind.

My heart has room for shepherds too.

Does not a druid maiden's education

teach you more about the laws of nature?

I should repair the omission.

Don't waste your time and trouble.

#Unbelievers, venture slowly#

#If your love is less than holy#

#Come not near#

#In this sacred grove#

#A heart fed on love#

#Reveres the divine#

#Astrea. #

Since we are lodging the local druids,

Alexia must share the girls' room.

Astrea, Phyllis and I can sleep here

and Alexia there.

Astrea will want to sleep with Alexia.

Tell Astrea

that she must sleep with me.

Tell her druid girls must sleep alone.

Girls, I have many guests

so you must share this room tonight.

Three in the large bed,

Leonida and the shepherdesses.

Alexia in the small one,

because druid maidens
must always sleep alone.

Daughter, our festivities have tired you.

You deserve a longer sleep than usual.

Get up after the others.

Why look so sad?

Have no fear.

Be brave!

Girls,

good night to you.

Shepherdess, let's get undressed.

Alexia falls asleep
as soon as she's in bed.

If we go to bed after her

and make a noise,

she'll never get back to sleep.

Sisters,

would you mind

letting your hair down here,
to keep me awake?

#Astrea, by now almost undressed, #

#casually let slip her gown#

#below her elbow, unveiling her breast. #

#Alexia sat up and helped her#

#to unfasten her bows and pins. #

#Whenever her hand
came near her mouth, #

#she kissed it#

#and Alexia kissed the place
her lips had touched. #

#Fair druid girl, #

#Leonida spared you the pain#

#of preventing your gaze! #

#No breast was ever snowier, #

#no apple in Love's orchard
ever lovelier. #

#Never did Cupid's arrow
strike Celadon's heart#

#as deeply as it did Alexia's. #

#How nearly she dropped her girlish guise#
#for that of a shepherd! #

#How close she came to recklessness! #

Good morning, Phyllis.

You're up early.

Why, it's Alexia!

Is it not?

That's my dress.

It suits you perfectly.

Is it really Alexia under those clothes?

Let me kiss you,

the loveliest shepherdess in the land.

Lovelier than as a druidess.

Are those not Astrea's clothes?

What if Astrea
dressed up as a druid girl?

Each would be mistaken for the other.

But what would my father say?

He will only laugh.

He knows gaiety
is the best medicine for you.

Be careful, Alexia!

Astrea might be irked by your embrace.

Nothing can irk me

in Alexia's company.

I would be sorry to irk you.

But Leonida is only envious.

Indeed?

I have a lovely shepherdess right by me.

#Unaware that her caresses were closer#

#than is usual between girls, #

#Astrea welcomed and returned her kisses#

#as though Alexia#

#were a living image of Celadon. #

Who are you?

You're not Alexia!

I am Astrea.

Isn't this her dress?

You're Celadon!

Celadon is dead.

Yes. I'm dreaming.

Almighty God, let this not be a dream!

Let him be alive!

I am alive.

Live, live, Celadon!

I order you!