Original subtitles

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