All language subtitles for jane.eyre.1983.episode.04.rochester.dvdrip.xvid-aaf

You like Pilate?

Oui, monsieur.

Come in.

Good evening, sir.

Here is Miss Eyre.

I'll let Miss Eyre be seated.

Tea is ready, sir, as you ordered.

Adele, Miss Eyre, please come to the
table.

Oh, I am so sorry you have so much
estate business, sir. I do wonder at

patience and perseverance in going on
with it. Madam, I should like some tea.

Oh, yes, of course.

Will you pass Mr. Rochester's cup?

Adele might perhaps spill it.

Do you expect a present, Miss Anne?

Are you fond of presents?

I hardly knew, sir.

I have little experience of them.

I generally thought pleasant things.
Generally thought?

What do you think?

I'm a stranger, sir. I have done nothing
to entitle me to one. Don't fall back

on all her modesty. I've examined Adele
and find you've taken great pains with

her.

She's not bright. She has no talent.

But in a short while, she's made much
improvement.

Sir, you have given me my caddo.

Praise in my pupil's progress.

Hmm.

Miss Eyre, come sit here by me.

You've been resident in my house three
months.

Yes, sir.

And you come from a charitable
institution.

How long were you there?

Eight years, sir. Eight years?

You must be tenacious of life.

No wonder you've rather the look of
another world.

When you came upon me in Hay Lane last
night, I thought unaccountably of fairy

tales.

Who were your parents?

I have none, sir.

Nor ever had, I suppose.

Do you remember them?

No, sir.

I thought not.

So, you are 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
revelry.

Who recommended you to come here?

I advertised to Mrs. Fairfax on 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 Anne, have you seen much society?

None. Outside Lowood and out of this
house, sir. You read much?

Only such books as came in my way.
You've lived the life of a nun.

No doubt you're well drilled in
religious forms.

Brocklehurst, do I understand, to Rex
Lowood, is a parson, is he not? Yes,

And you girls probably worshipped him.

As a convent full of novices would
worship their father. No, sir.

They're very cool.

No.

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

I disliked him, Mr. Brocklehart.

He was a harsh man to unpumperton
meddling.

What age were you when you went to
Lowood?

About ten, sir.

You're now then eighteen.

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? 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.

Play a tune.

Enough! You play a little, I see.

Like any other English schoolgirl.

Perhaps rather better than some, but not
well.

Adele showed me some sketches this
morning which she said were yours.

They're on the table. Bring them.

Are they entirely

of your doing?

Probably a master aided you. Certainly
not, sir.

Ah.

Hurts 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've ever known.

That's not saying much. Your pleasures,
by your own account, have been few.

You've 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? I have to keep
Adele up for so long.

Take her to bed.

For me, monsieur?

I wish you all good night now.

Good night, sir.

Good night, sir.

Yeah.

I trust you enjoyed your ride, sir.

I trust you've enjoyed your day, miss. I
have indeed, sir. I am so glad your leg

is quite recovered. Oh, two days were
enough to put that price.

All the same, you should not take risks.

Otherwise you'll bewitch my horse again.

Well, excuse me, miss. I must change my
clothes.

What's now? What's wrong with him
anymore?

Been out visiting, I suppose.

Imagine you have to call on all the
neighbouring gentry.

Surely we'll certain young ladies are
concerned.

Have you heard talk of the Honourable
Miss Blanche Ingram?

No.

Well, you will, Miss.

Here's your present.

Amuse yourself with disemboweling it.

Is that me, sir?

Who's to see me, sir?

Come forward, me sir.

Be seated.

Don't draw the chair further off, me
sir. Sit down exactly where I placed

If you please.

That is.

Confound these civilities. I'm always
forgetting them.

Oh, child, 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 by, when they're 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?

I beg your pardon, I was too plain. You
were no such thing.

Go on.

What fault do you find with me, pray?

I suppose of all my limbs and all my
features, like any other man?

To rot it, sir. 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
inquired 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, 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'm 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.

I know you're no more pretty than I am
handsome.

As a puzzledad 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.

I sent for you.

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

I can't talk to an old lady or a young
child, nor pilot, but you.

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

But pleased me now to draw you out, to
learn more of you.

Therefore, speak.

About what, sir?

Oh, whatever you like.

You're dumb, Miss Anne.

Stubborn.

And annoyed.

Hmm?

Ah, I put my request in an absurd,
almost insolent form.

Sir, 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'm 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'm 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. Hmm.

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

the tone of command.

Why do you smile?

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

so of their paid subordinate. 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 ground
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

without thinking me insolent?

I hope that I know the difference
between informality and insolence.

The one I rather like, the other nothing
Freeborn would submit to even for a

salary. Humbug.

Most things Freeborn 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

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.

Oh.

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.

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?

Ampered, 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.
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.

See, you're like a little bird trapped
in a cage. Vivid, resolute, restless,

a captive.

Worried but free.

cloud high.

Speak truth, sir. I do not understand
you. Well, at this moment, Messire, I am

paving hell with energy.

Sir.

I'm laying down good intentions, which I
believe as

durable as flint.

Aren't you afraid of me because I talk
like a sphinx?

Your language is enigmatical, sir.

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

Where are you going?

To put Adele to bed. It's 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 Anne. Good night, sir.

Keep still, Adele. Keep still.

Mademoiselle, je commence à avoir froid.

Let me rest for a moment, Adele.

I promised you an explanation, Miss
Anne.

Your pupil, Adele, is the daughter of a
French opera dancer, Céline Varon, 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 Céline Varon.

I called one evening when she didn't
expect me and found her with another

Madel.

Thank you, Madel.

Go and read your book, child.

He was a cavalry officer.

A brainless and vicious youth.

A woman that 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 at
something of the sort.

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

perhaps think differently of your post
and your protégé.

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.

No, sir.

Adele 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

dethoned by you, sir, I will cling even
closer to her than before.

Sir?

Mr. Barrow, the agent's here, sir. He
said you wished to see him at once.

Yes, I do. Put him in the library.

Thank you, sir.

Hahahaha!

This 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 are the deuce for?

What can she do before morning? Let her
sleep.

You will wake no one.

Here.

Then stay where you are till I return.

Don't move.

And don't call anyone.