All language subtitles for Jane Eyre Afl.4.English

You like pilot?

Mais oui, monsieur.

Come in.

Good evening, sir.
Here is Miss Eyre.

Well, let Miss Eyre
be seated.

Tea is ready, sir,
as you ordered.

Adèle, Miss Eyre,
please come to the table.

Oh, I am so sorry you had
so much estate business, sir.

I do wonder at your patience and
perseverance in going on with it.

Madam, I should
like some tea.

Oh, yes,
of course, sir.

Will you pass
mr. Rochester's cup?

Adèle might perhaps
spill it.

Monsieur, have you
a cadeau…

a present for Miss Eyre
in your boxes?

Do you expect
a present, Miss Eyre?

Are you fond of
presents?

I hardly know, sir.

I have little
experience of them.

They are generally
thought pleasant things.

Generally thought.

But what do you think?

I am a stranger, sir.

I have done nothing
to entitle me to one.

Oh, don't fall back on
over-modesty.

I've examined Adèle and find
you've taken great pains with her.

She's not bright,
she has no talents,

yet in a short while she
has made much improvement.

Sir, you have given me
my "cadeau"

praising
my pupil's progress.

Miss Eyre,
come sit here by me.

You have been resident
in my house 3 months.

Yes, sir.

And you come from
a charitable institution.

How long
were you there?

8 years, sir.

8 years.

You must be
tenacious of life.

No wonder you have rather
the look of another world.

When you came upon me
in Hay Lane last night,

I thought unaccountably
of fairy tales.

-Who are your parents?
-I have none, sir.

Nor ever had, I suppose.
Do you remember them?

No, sir.

I thought not.

So, you were out waiting
for your people in that lane.

For whom, sir?

For the men in green.

The men in green all forsook
England a hundred years ago.

The moon will never shine
on their revels more.

Who recommended you
to come here?

I advertised, and Mrs. Fairfax
answered my advertisement.

Yes, and I am daily
thankful of my choice.

Don't trouble yourself
to give her a character.

I shall judge for myself.

She began
by felling my horse.

Sir?

She bewitched my horse.

Miss Eyre, have you
seen much society?

None, outside Lowood
and now this house, sir.

Have you read much?

Only such books
as came in my way.

You have lived
the life of a nun.

No doubt, you're well
drilled in religious forms.

Brocklehurst, who I
understand directs Lowood,

-is a parson, is he not?
-Yes, sir.

And you girls probably
worshipped him,

as a convent full of novices
would worship their father.

No, sir.

You are very cool.

No?

What, a convent full of novices
not worship their priest?

I disliked Mr. Brocklehurst.
He was a harsh man.

At once,
pompous and meddling.

What age were you when
you went to Lowood?

About 10, sir.

-You are now, then, 18?
-Yes, sir.

Arithmetic, you see,
is useful.

Without it I should hardly have
been able to guess your age.

What did you
learn at Lowood?

-Can you play?
-A little.

That is the established answer.

Go into the library.

I mean, if you please,
Miss Eyre.

Excuse my tone
of command.

I'm used to say "do this",
and it is done.

I cannot alter my customary habits
for one new inmate.

Go then into the library.

Take a candle with you, sit down
at the piano, and play a tune.

Very well, sir.

Enough!

You play a little, I see.

Like any other
english schoolgirl

perhaps rather better
than some, but not well.

Adèle showed me
some sketches this morning

which she said were yours.

They are on the table.
Bring them.

They are on the table.
Bring them.

And are they entirely
of your doing?

Probably a master
aided you.

Certainly not, sir.

Ah. Hurt pride.

Now. There are three in particular.

Where did you get
your copies.

out of my head, sir.

That same head I now see
on your shoulders?

Yes, sir.

Does it have any furniture
of the same kind within?

I should think it may have.
I hope better.

Were you happy when
you painted these?

Painting those pictures

was one of the keenest pleasures
I have ever known.

That's not saying much.
Your pleasures,

by your own account,
have been few.

You have not enough of the
artist's skill and science.

Yet the drawings are,
for a schoolgirl, peculiar.

There. Put them away.

It's nine o'clock.

What are you about, Miss Eyre,
to keep Adèle up so long?

Take her to bed.

Bonne nuit,
monsieur.

I wish you all
good night now.

Good night, sir.

Good night, sir.

Good day
to you, sir.

Leah.

I trust you enjoyed
your ride, sir.

I trust you enjoyed
your day, Miss Eyre.

I have indeed, sir.

I am so glad your __
is quite recovered

Ah. A few days were enough
to put that right.

All the same,
you should not take risks.

Otherwise you'll bewitch
my horse again?

Well, excuse me, Miss Eyre.
I must change my clothes.

There's nowt much wrong
with him anymore.

Been out visiting,
I suppose.

I imagine he has to call on
all the neighboring gentry.

Especially where certain
young ladies are concerned.

Have you heard talk of the
honorable Miss Blanche Ingram?

No.

Well, you will, Miss.

Good morning,
Mr. Rochester.

Here's your present.

Amuse yourself with
disemboweling it.

Is that Miss Eyre?

You wished
to see me, sir?

Come forward, Miss Eyre.

Be seated.

Don't draw the chair
further off, Miss Eyre.

Sit down exactly
where I placed it.

If you please, that is.

Confound these civilities.
I'm always forgetting them.

Oh, ciel!
Que c'est beau!

Come, child. The master
wishes to speak to Miss Eyre.

You examine me, Miss Eyre.
Do you find me handsome?

No, sir.

By my word, there is
something singular about you.

You have the air
of a little nun,

quaint, quiet, grave,
and simple,

with your arms before you and your
eyes generally bent on the carpet.

Except, by-the-bye, when they are
directed piercingly to my face,

as just now.

And when one asks you a question,
you rap out a brusque rejoinder.

What do you mean by it?

Sir, I beg your pardon.
I was too plain.

You were no such thing.
Go on.

What faults do you
find with me, pray?

I suppose I have all my
limbs and all my features

like any other man?

Mr. Rochester, I intended no
repartee. It was a blunder.

Just so. And you shall
be answerable for it.

Now, ma'am,

am I a fool?

Far from it, sir.

You might perhaps think me
rude if I enquired in return

whether you are
a philanthropist.

No, young lady, I am not
in general a philanthropist.

But I bear a conscience.

When I was as old as you are
I was a feeling fellow enough,

partial to the unfledged,
unfostered, and unlucky,

but fortune has
knocked me about since,

and now I flatter myself that I am as
hard and tough as an india-rubber ball.

Pervious, though.

Through a chink
or two still

does that leave hope for me?

Hope for what, sir?

Oh, you look very much
puzzled, Miss Eyre,

and though you are no more
pretty than I am handsome,

yet a puzzled air
becomes you.

Besides it's
very convenient.

It keeps those searching
eyes off my physiognomy.

So puzzle on.

Young lady,

I am disposed to be gregarious
and communicative tonight.

That's why I sent for you.

The fire and the chandelier were
not sufficient company for me.

Can't talk to an old lady
or young child nor pilot.

But you…

you puzzled me the first
evening I invited you down here.

It would please me now
to draw you out,

to learn more of you.

Therefore speak.

About what, sir?

Well, whatever you like.

You're dumb, Miss Eyre?

Stubborn?

Ah, I put my request
in an absurd,

almost insolent form.

Miss Eyre,
I beg your pardon.

The fact is,
once and for all,

I do not wish to treat you
like an inferior.

I speak merely with
20 years more of age.

And a century more
of experience.

Now, have the goodness
to talk to me a little.

Divert my thoughts
which are…

which are galled with
dwelling on one point.

I am willing to amuse you
if I can, sir,

but how do I know
what will interest you?

Ask me questions and I will
do my best to answer them.

Firstly, then, do you agree
that I have the right

to be a little masterful,
abrupt, exacting at times,

on the grounds that I am old
enough to be your father

and have roamed
over half the globe

whilst you have lived quietly with
one set of people in one house.

-Do as you please, sir.
-Oh, that's no answer.

It's irritating and evasive.

Reply clearly.

I do not think, sir,

you have the right to command me
because you are older than I,

or because you have seen
more of the world than I have.

Your claim to superiority
depends upon the use

you have made of your time
and experience.

Promptly spoken.

But I won't allow that.
It would never suit my case.

I have made a very bad use
of both advantages.

Well, leaving superiority
out of the question, then,

you must still agree to
receive my orders now and then

without being piqued
by the tone of command.

Why do you smile?

I was thinking, sir, that very few
masters would trouble themselves

to enquire so of their
paid subordinates.

Paid subordinate?

Oh, yes, I'd forgotten
the salary.

Well, then, on
that mercenary ground,

will you agree to let me
hector you a little?

No, sir.
Not on that ground.

But on the grounds
that you did forget it

and that you care
whether or not

a dependent is comfortable
in his dependency.

And will you agree to dispense
with a great many conventional forms

and phrases without
thinking me insolent?

I hope, sir, I know the
differenceity and insole nce.

The one I rather like,

the other nothing free-born
would submit to even for a salary.

Humbug. Most things free-born will
submit to anything for a salary.

However, I mentally shake hands
with you for that answer,

despite its inaccuracy.

Not one in 3,000 raw
schoolgirl governesses

would have answered me
as you have just done.

However, I don't mean
to flatter you.

For all I know, you may have
intolerable faults

to counterbalance
your few good points.

Yes, yes, you're right.

I've plenty of
faults of my own.

I was thrust onto a wrong
tack at the age of 21

and have never recovered
the right course since.

I might
have been different.

I might have been
as good as you.

Wiser.

Almost as stainless.

I envy you
your peace of mind,

your clean conscience.

Your unpolluted memory.

How was your memory
when you were 18, sir?

Oh, I was your equal,
Miss Eyre.

Quite your equal.

Nature meant me to be,
on the whole,

a good man, Miss Eyre,

but you see I am not.

I am a trite,
commonplace sinner,

hackneyed in all the petty
dissipations of the rich and worthless.

Hackneyed in all the petty dissipations
of the rich and worthless.

I wish I'd stood firm.

God knows I do.

Dread remorse when you are
tempted to err, Miss Eyre.

Remorse is the poison of life.

Repentance is said
to be its cure, sir.

It is not its cure.

Reformation maybe.

I could reform,
but what's the use?

Hampered, burdened,

cursed as I am?

Besides, I have a right
to get pleasure out of life

and I will get it,
cost what it may.

Then you will degenerate
still further, sir.

Why should I?

If I can get sweet,
fresh pleasure?

And I may get it.

As sweet and fresh as the wild
honey the bee gathers on the moor.

You are like a little bird
trapped in a cage,

vivid, resolute, restless,
but a captive.

Were it but free,

it would soar cloud-high.

To speak truth, sir,
I do not understand you.

At this moment, Miss Eyre,
I am paving hell with energy.

Sir?

I am laying down
good intentions,

which I believe
as durable as flint.

Are you afraid of me
because I talk like a sphinx?

Your language
is enigmatical, sir.

Though I am bewildered,
I'm certainly not afraid.

Me voici,
mademoiselle.

Where are you going?

To put Adèle to bed.
It is past her time.

She's beautiful,
is she not?

A miniature of her mother.
A little seductress.

Sir?

Never mind. I shall
explain some day.

Good night, Miss Eyre.

Good night, sir.

Keep still, Adèle. Keep still.

Que ce passe t'il,
mademoiselle?

Je commence
á avoir froid.

You may rest
for a moment, Adèle.

I promised you
an explanation, Miss Eyre.

Your pupil Adèle is the daughter
of a french opera dancer,

Celine Varens, for whom I once
cherished a grande passion.

No reproof, Miss Eyre?

No moral homily?

No, sir.

I like this day.

I like this sky of steel.

I like Thornfield,

my home as it could be.

Yet how long have I abhorred
the very thought of it.

Shunned it like
a plague house.

Feared it.

Feared it, sir?

I was speaking
of Celine Varens.

I called one evening
when she didn't expect me

and found her
with another man.

Mademoiselle!

Thank you, Adèle.

Pour vous.

Go and read
your book, child.

Go on.

He was
a cavalry officer.

A brainless
and vicious youth.

A woman who could betray me
with such a rival

was not worth contending for.

I paid her off.

You never felt jealousy,
did you, Miss Eyre?

No.

Of course not,
you never felt love.

I'm so ignorant
of the world.

Perhaps I should have guessed
something of the sort.

Now you know she is the illegitimate
offspring of a French opera girl,

you will perhaps think differently
of your post and your "protegée".

You'll be coming to me with
notice you intend to leave,

that you've found
another position,

that you beg me to look out
for a new governess, hmm?

No, sir.

Adèle is not answerable for
either her mother's faults or yours.

I have a regard for her.

Now that I know she is
in a sense parentless,

forsaken by her mother
and disowned by you, sir,

I will cling even closer
to her than before.

Sir?

Mr. Barrel, the agent's here, sir.

He said you wished
to see him at once.

Yes, I do.
Put him in the library.

Thank you, Miss Eyre.

Who's there?

Who's there?

Mrs. Fairfax!

Mrs. Fairfax!

Mr. Rochester, wake up!

Oh, damnation!

Put it out! Use the blanket!

That is not more of your witchery,
you sorceress.

I heard someone creeping
in the corridor.

I heard a terrible laugh.

Whoever it was set fire
to your room

and then fled through the door
to the upper staircase.

Shall I fetch
Mrs. Fairfax?

What the deuce for?

What can she do before morning?
Let her sleep.

-I'll wake Leah and John…
-You will wake no one!

Here.

Here. Put this around you.

Sit there.

And stay where you are
till I return.

Don't move.

And don't call anyone.

Subtitles edited by Hai Hung
Revised by Héctor Lahoz