All language subtitles for The Third Lover (1962)

I called myself Albin Mercier,
but my name is Andr Mercier.

I signed my books and
articles under the name of Albin.

I was a modest writer, so much so that i was
almost alone to be aware of that fact.

Not so long ago, I was
in Germany, near Munich,

sent by a small daily newspaper.

I had to write about everyday life in Germany,

our past enemy and future ally.

It didn't pay well, but i didn't care.

I couldn t afford to be picky.

The rent was taken care of,
but I had to pay the maid.

I'd been warned.

Not luxurious but decent.

Sad as death.

I was bitter yet glad.

Maybe...

more bitter than glad.

I spend the 2 first days
strolling about the village.

It was a pleasant microcosm.
Some workers, some farmers...

many land owners.

Tourists from Munich.

Nice houses kept open...

to be admired at any time.

I felt lonely.

Nobody would speak
or look at me.

It was like being trapped in a desert.

I despised these houses.

I was a prisoner.

I had to pretend to speak german
to get the job

but this was a lie.

I didn't speak a word of it.

What a looser.

Only one thing caught my attention.

A nice stone wall that
protected the intimacy of a couple.

I tried asking the maid
to learn more about it.

Behind the wall
lived the famous Doctor Hartman.

Hartman.

The greatest writer of his time.

The hope for a new Germany.

I tried to get a glimpse at
this rare bird.

He seemed like a nice fellow.

I wondered how I could arrange
to meet him.

In the meantime, i had
to earn my measly salary.

Everything was a bore,
I wrote nonsense.

The maid jabbered on
some complaints she had.

Always nagging, always in need
of some kitchen tool I couln't make out.

I had to make a fool
of myself in the shops.

Like a mute talking to a deaf.

Until one day, a stroke of luck...

She spoke french.
She was french.

I should have guessed
she was Mrs Hartman.

I worked my way
into getting invited.

Her name was Helen.

Nice name.

I've been told about
your presence here, Mr..?

Albin Mercier. But how..?

The arrival of a foreigner
in a small village like this...

On the contrary I felt like
i was being ignored...

You were being watched.
You are the talk of the town.

What an honor.
Excuse me.

Wait.

- Here.
- Splendid.

I greatly admire your husband.

How nice of you.

I'm sure he'll want to meet you.

Why?

- Aren't you a writer too?
- How do you know?

Don't tell me you've read my books?

No but I'm sure they are great.

Join us for a coffee this afternoon.

I'm speechless.

Don't be, if I invite you,
that's because it's our pleasure.

If it annoys you, turn it down.

you make me shy.

Of course it'll be a pleasure...

- An honor?
- An honor.

- I don't know how to thank you.
- Let's say 2 o'clock.

- Can I drop you somewhere?
- No thanks.

I like to walk. See you later.

Here I was, able to enter their
home without difficulties.

Look at them, watch them.

I went there quite naturally,
like an old acquaintance,

an old friend.

I felt giddy as a child for
i had to improvise.

I had never read one of Hartman's books.

I instantly liked the house.

I felt comfortable, everything
was calm and in harmony.

Everything was in perfect taste.

Andrea Hartman.
I've read of of your books.

Very interesting.

We shared the same first name,
but my lie forbade me to tell him.

Andre suggests we
have our coffee outside.

Bravo.

The more I stayed with them,
the better I felt.

They treated me as an old friend.

It was almost embarrassing.

Andre is glad I found someone
to speak french with. He's not very fluent.

- Really?
- Awful!

Thanks.

Cognac, thanks.

French!

I was struck by the masterful
way this man and this woman

shared the load of the conversation.

Miracle of intelligence.

They turned langage
barrier into a game.

They completed each other
and smiled all the time,

happy to live together in this house,

to be here with me,
chatting about things they cared for.

They showed me the fine politeness

of letting me make their acquaintance.

This was a real image of happiness
so rare and precious

that beneath my pleasure
growed an uneasiness

a state of tension
that gained my entire body.

It has come to a point where

I have no idea what
word will follow the next.

But what matters is that
it is all in the favor of Europe.

They liked me,
it was a fact.

Andre thinks it's the
best way to go about it.

We parted later that
afternoon, a smile on our faces,

planning future visits.

But the day was ruined
by a catastrophe.

The stupid maid didn't think
of shutting down the main pipe.

I had to do it myself.

All was left for her was to mop.

Hello Mr Mercier. How are you?

Hello Mr Mercier.

I saw them from afar each day,
sometimes her, sometimes him.

I exchanged a few nice words.

They were fond of me.

So the invited me
to dinner this time.

I brought an impressive
flower bouquet

almost too impressive,
but not quite.

Magnificent! Excellent choice.

I must confess i didn't
choose them myself.

No, but you chose the man
who chose for you.

Andre will tell you it
boils down to the same.

What a terrible theory.

- He knows it.
- What do I know?

Hartman insisted upon
preparing the diner himself.

No doubt to prove he
was a great writer but a simple man.

I found him rather ridicule.

Same thing.

The diner was simple and delicious.

And later on

as we sat in
wonderful armchairs

enjoying his wonderful Cognac,

that i first experience
that monstrous feeling

that were to guide
me from now on.

I may be a looser but

one can't hold it against me
not to be aware of it,

to nourish impossible dreams,
to deceive myself.

As i experienced it, I
was able to analyse that feeling

with a total lucidity.

It wasn't jealousy,
for I didn't feel

no injustice or bitterness.

It was more a kind of envy

but so full, total,
absolute and absorbing

that i knew it
would lead me to violence.

So I knew perfectly well
that my goal was to intrude

this happy couple's universe.

To be part of it, to cling
to it like ivy to a wall.

To fill this man's shoes,

to replace the man who
shared my first name.

To fully take his place

totally,

to fill in every corners.

I also knew this goal

was impossible to reach,

yet i was to waste
all my strength on it.

I decided to strengthen the bonds

to see them all the time,
make myself irreplacable.

But how to achieve that

in such a perfect rounded universe?

So perfect that it was
the source of my obsession.

Andreas won the
game easily that night.

He was glad.

From that moment on,
I managed to see the regularly

When I wasn't invited,
I invited them in return.

I didn't take them to fancy places,

for they knew I wasn't rich.

But I made no effort
to appear to be.

I was joyful, simple, honest.

Quite the easy guy.

I had never been nicer
before in my life.

But i suffered immensly

for I didn't make any progress.

I saw them more and more often,
but had no real influence on them.

I merely slipped on
the surface of their happiness.

Because of that, I had to
fulfill smaller obsessions.

For instance,

I wanted to go to the first floor

to their bedroom and bathroom.

It would have been easy
just to ask them

They would gadly
have shown it to me.

But I wanted to go there uninvited,

to deceive them in a way.

So i used a scheme.

You are daydreaming, sad.

- I'm sorry.
- it's the rain.

We are mediterraneeans,
rain makes us sad.

- You are not sad...
- No.

Germany is a green country.

Green all over.

On the map, it is green.

That's thanks to the rain.

The greenery.

- Good.
- I'm sorry.

In fact i like rain.

How clumsy of me.

you hurt yourself!

You're mad. I'll get a bandaid.

- Does it sting?
- No.

I'll get you a handkerchief.

Is this your room?

- Nice isn't it?
- Lovely.

I smiled and was happy.

I had got what I wanted.

Through mischief.

But the next day,
a bucket of cold water.

I felt something was going on.

I moved closer.

That's what i thought.

They had visitors and
didn't ask me to come over.

They were having fun without me.

I was only good to entertain them.

The measly scribbler Mercier
was only a fool to the great

the famous Andreas Hartman.

I was furious.

I decided to be a party pooper.

Discretly of course.

Tactfully.

- Are you the frenchman?
- Yes madam.

I'll switch it off, excuse me.

Will you help me?

Thank you.

Hello Albin.

Hello.

- You write?
- Yes.

Short stories?

Yes, articles, tales,
small stories for better understanding.

Andre must be apalled.

- Andre must be hostile.
- Andre is not hostile.

He is merely realistic.

He will explain it some day.

He decided to go to
the lake this afternoon.

As soon as Andre
has finished working.

The water is nice.

- I don't care for it. Only if it's extremely nice.
- You are suspicious.

- Have a drink instead.
- Yes, that i'll do.

- Whisky.
- Yes.

I'll get it.

- You know Giska?
- That's me.

She's yougoslavian. She has more
trouble with the languages than you.

She can't speak german,
and forgot her yogoslavian.

So she speaks french.

She's very popular
around our american friends.

- Isn't that right Giska?
- Yes.

I was surprised
she greeted me so well.

She didn't find odd that
I came uninvited.

Like it was usual,
like I was always welcome.

I wondered if Andre
would act the same way.

We ll go swimming.

Nice little Albin.

Nice little Albin, you not make
long face like this, yes?

For a frenchman, you are
not really gallant.

You stand in your corner

Not very polite.

"O time, suspend your flight!
and you, happy hours"

"suspend your race"

"suspend your race"

"let us savor the fleet delights

of our fairest days!"

- Come little Albin.
- No.

The water is so nice.

- Come on Albin.
- No, thanks.

Come in the water.

Leave me alone. I can't swim...

Why didn't you say it?

I hated him.

I held him responsible
for everything.

He humiliated me
and I wanted revenge.

I conjured up a small vengence.

Make him pay back, without
giving up my goal.

I wanted to regain my honor
for my sake.

We went for a picnic.

What's the matter?
Andreas wants to talk to me?

Yes. And he wants me to
translate.

I gathered. Seems a bit formal.

Andre is always formal
when he is serious.

He did some hard
thinking during his life.

He believes he solved
all of his problems.

He's a happy man.

And he realized the other day
that it was not your case.

All that swinning business.

He thinks it left you
with a bad memory.

He wants to know
if you realize...

that it is your fault.

He asks if you are
aware of that.

It doesn't matter.

What are you saying?

He says it matters immensly

and i told him you
certainly don't realize that.

He says that you had told him
that you couldn't swim,

and it would not have happened.

But you didn't dare.

You wanted to follow the others.

Entire populations are led this way.

This feeling is the source
of all human depravities.

War is the consequence of that feeling.

Some say war is absurd.

It's not true.

Everything has it's reason.

The reason for war is for not
accepting what we are.

That's also why a captured
tuna bangs its head against the wall.

- Do you understand?
- Yes.

The war left me a broken man.

It left me empty and hard.

For 15 years I drank to forget.

I worked and earned my living

but i was a wreck

and people
pretended not to notice.

They thought I was
foolish and quaint.

In fact i was nothing
but a wreck.

I asked for nothing.

Telling me all this was obscene.

It was obvious, no need to tell me.

I'm fond of you.

Albin, your a bad swimmer
but a good driver.

All their glee and happiness
were irritating.

And he bored me with his
succesful writer philosophy.

This day had been a real nightmare.

But something cheered me up.

Andreas was to leave the
next day to give some lectures.

Lectures! About the true
way to happiness, no doubt.

It was all for the best.

I suggested to spent
the evening in a cabaret.

Hartman was cheerful.

After the ethics came
the history lessons.

Munich, birthplace of nazism,
destroyed by the war and rebuilt.

This man was obsessed with the war,
with Hitler, with militarism.

He was so convincing that
the city began to scare me.

Yet I couldn't care less
about all this.

"Parisian nights", the Munich way.

This is a show that
gave you food for thought.

I had to get ahead and I sensed this
trip was the perfect opportunity.

From the good friend
of good company that I was,

I had to become intimate.

I was so agreeable, so nice, so helpful.

But I could be more.

Infinitely more.

Given my friendship with Helene

and my deep sincere admiration for the famous Andreas Hartman.

In the meantime, the show
didn't make them feel at ease.

It didn't bother them
nor left them cold.

They were there, together,
and everything slid off them.

And this night,the notion
came to me to commit a crime.

Oh, a very small crime.

On their car.

I'm a patient man.

I waited for them to fall
asleep and I went for it.

I left as I came
and went to bed.

They were to leave by 9 am.

I was up by 7 am, to calm me down.

My plan was to work
without a glitch.

It did.

They tried to start the car.

To no avail of course.

Andreas looked under the hood,
but found nothing.

The great Hartman
was a poor mechanic.

I began to get upset.

I prentended to walk by
as by accident.

What's wrong?

We can't get the car started.

I'll give you a hand.

I don't know what it is.

But it's going to take some time.

I had better drive him myself.

That's very nice but...

It'd be happy to,
in exchange for all your goodness.

Stop making me feel awkward.

Thank you Albin, thank you!

He was having fun,
he felt I owed him that much.

I'll walk you to the car.

Thank you Albin.

What did he say?

He says he leaves
you to take care of me.

Is it wise?

He thinks so.

The swimming incident
ended up as a victory after all.

But i felt embarrassed.

I didn't know how to handle it.

The stake was huge and
yet my mind was a muddle.

That return trip was very pleasant.

I discovered a very different
Helene from the one I imagined.

She put me at ease in the most
charming and subtle way.

Albin you are fascinating.

- Fascinating?
- Yes.

I find you mysterious.

We discussed it the other
night with Andre.

For instance, we tried to guess your age.

- My age?
- Yes.

Sometimes you seem very young,
and sometimes an elderly.

- Really?
- Yes.

So how old are you, 20 or 40?

30 of course.

Well you never look 30.
Either 20 or 40.

Well I was hiding it,
but I'm in fact 75.

Today is my birthday
and i'm taking you to lunch.

With great pleasure.

With her, everything was easy.
We were like old friends.

I offered to fix the car

and took a nap in
the shade of its engine.

Are those your feet?

And how!

I'm coming.

Will you have some tea?

I certainly deserve it.

I think it works.

Splendid, I almost lost hope.

- You really are mysterious.
- Nothing mysterious about it.

I have always been keen on mechanics.

Let's sit down.

I'm filthy.

Work never gets you dirty.

I offer you a bath but
teatime first.

I'll dirty the china.

China can't be dirtied.

Besides this is not a china cup.

Some cake.

I bathed and took Andreas's wardrobe
that Helene nicely offered earlier.

At last, I had become
their intimate friend.

We dined at home,
at Helene's I mean.

A light meal for none
of us was hungry.

I left around 11 pm.

She thanked me again and I said:

See you tomorrow.

I did not hurry back to my place.

Nice day.

So nice that my excitment
kept me awake for some time.

I woke up late and forced
myself to work till midday.

But this morning, my usually
mediocre prose was downright sordid.

I couldn't hold it anymore
and i went there.

The car and Helene were gone!
- Is she gone to Munich?

What?

Gift.

What "gift" ?

The hell with you.

I couldn't make it out.
I was furious.

She didn't mention anything.

Shut up old hag!

Even Elsa was gone.
That bitch made the most of it.

She went home at 11 pm.

Her gifts weren't very heavy,
her hands were empty.

I was upset.

She was hiding something, a secret.

She wasn't who she appeared,
she was lying.

I decided to hit hard on the
next morning, just to be sure.

I wanted to ask her to explain
herself, but it would have been stupid.

I decided to act a little sad,

to intrigue her.

Hello Helene.

Hello Albin.

I woke up late yesterday.
When i came by you were gone.

I had some business in Munich.

I could go, thanks to you.

- Thanks to me?
- Yes, you fixed the car.

Sit down.

No, i'm fine.

You seem lost in your thoughts.

I'm a bit sad.

A few days moutain air
can get you down.

It does that to me sometimes.

- May I sit on the floor?
- Of course.

I couldn't intrigue her less.

She just followed my tune.

When i was gay, she was gay.

When melancholic, she became melancholic.

A real chameleon, a mask.

Or rather a series of masks,
all of them convincing.

All af them easy on the interlocutor.

- Helene?
- Yes?

I'm sorry if i'm sad today.

It s the mountain air.

No, i don't think so.

I think it's you.

Me? Why me?

It's all my fault.
It's the way I am.

I can't hold you
responsable for what I am.

What are you?

A looser.

Why do you say such things?

- You are exquisite.
- Exquisite.

I'll make you a confession.
I am poor.

- I was born poor.
- So was I.

My father died when I was young.
My mother...

Give me a cigarette.

I'm boring you...

Of course not, but you
shouldn't torture yourself.

I don't.

Quite the opposite.

My mother provided for everything
by making sacrifices.

I meant the world to her.
And I was happy with her.

I loved her.

- She died?
- Yes.

But it's something else.

I was a good son
when she was alive.

But ... how to put it...

I wasn't the star pupil.
I gave her no satisfaction.

I told her about me
and tried be be sincere.

Not for the love of honesty
but as a way to be persuasive.

Maybe if I acted sincere,
she would reveal herself.

I only lied about what
seemed necessary.

I was so confused,
and she was so good and soft.

So understanding, you know?

She was my first love experience.

There were no other women before.

I never loved before.

Just my mother, this woman... and you.

- What was her name?
- Her name was...

Marcelle.

It's nice of you to tell me this.

I'm madly in love with you Helene.

I only think about you.

Albin, you are nice,
and I like you a lot.

It's getting cold, this wind
is cooler than it appears.

- Let's go inside.
- Yes.

How did she do it?

How can a woman push you away

so nicely that you don't even feel sad,

if you want to be sad
or only want to appear so.

I wasn't even sad.

As always with her,
it was harmonious.

For a moment I was
afraid I had played my last card.

But in this armchair in the living room,

I found myself surrounded once more
by the calm of familiar objects,

may they be borrowed or stolen.

This incident hadn't thrown
me back one inch.

I was still a friend,

their friend,

This was a misfired shot.

Castanets.

I had feared facing Hartman.

If Helene told him about it
as I feared,

this could be a tricky situation.

I didn't get that.

He was asking you how
were those three days.

Her glance could mean
only two things.

First: she didn't want me
to mention my declaration,

but why should I,

or second: I was not to mention
her absence two days earlier.

Suddendly the mirror cracked.

I became certain of one thing
that filled me with anger.

Helene was cheating on her husband!

Lunch is served.

So this harmonious happiness I envied so

was all a web of cheats and lies.

Following her like this
was a necessity and a satisfaction.

On one hand I wanted to make sure.

On the other, I enjoyed
the unique pleasure

of triumphing over Hartman
on at least one point:

The lucidity about his wife.

In that respect, Helene
was closer to me than she was to him.

More my wife than his.

I didn't take my eyes off her.
He knew her whole schedule.

Sometimes she went out
to see some friends, Gyska or others.

I could tell what day of the week,

for how long,

and what she did afterwards.

Some other times, she
went for a drive all by herself,

while Hartman was working.

I dared not following her
because I respected her solitude,

but mostly because
it would have exposed me.

She went to Munich
two times a week.

Following her there was
even riskier.

In the big cities, you always
feel someone is behind you.

Maybe I also feared facing the truth.

I spent almost
every nights at their place.

But I knew this harmonious
atmosphere I had envied was fake.

She had a lover in Munich.

I would reach my goal before long.

I didn't realize it had changed.

It was an ugly caricature
of what I had envisionned.

As for Hartman,
all he cared about was his book.

He spoke about it
with deep glorification.

Against this or that.

Never in favor.

He wanted it to contain
all his thoughts and experiences.

Elderly warriors.

Poor cuckold

She had a lover in Munich.

I was sure of it.

I was going mad.

I was at a loss.

He had to break it
into the open.

What was a game of wits
was now a game of strength

and I was feeling weak.

I had to jump in the water
like a child who cannot swim.

I decided to follow her
in her next Munich trip

until the end this time.

to Hell if necessary.

I took many risks.

It was a miracle that
she did not notice me.

This Helene was unknown,

totally different from
the ones she showed me.

Impatient and happy

like I've never seen her before.

This was her true face.

This was neverending.

"To Hell" as I had foreseen.

A strange Hell.

So it was him.
That was it.

A nice face, a looser, a punk.

She was mixing
with the lower class,

like a common
bored bourgeois's wife.

What a waste.

They had invited
me that same night.

But the result of this stalking
was that I was feeling depressed.

I arrived in a dreadful mood.

I tried to smile.

Helene was acting sweet too.

As for Hartman, he was
happy, kind, peaceful.

He was the happier of the three.

I thought about a vaudeville
play glorifying cuckold,

and for all my despair,
I laughed nervously.

I'm sorry.

What's with you, Albin?

I was suffering like Hell.

I felt as cheated as Andreas.

I knew then what
I had to do.

Without admitting it,
I knew where this was leading.

Good Heaven.

It was no excuse
but I couldn't hold it anymore.

The envy, hatred and fantasms
were consuming me

and these people
had provoked it.

They would not get away with it.

It took me a week
to gather everything.

Everything was set.

It all took place
in the few next hours.

Alas...

I followed her as usual,

she was taking a lonely stroll.

I had planned everything.

It was crucial that
Helen could not follow me later on.

- Helene.
- Albin.

What are you doing here?

I followed you.

I feared this might happen.

- I'm sure you are wrong.
- Good.

Don't speak yet, it's useless.

What a strange look on you.

What's the matter,
are you trying to intrigue me?

Don't be so conceited.

Pardon?

I said :
"don't be so conceited".

Are you mad?
Have you been drinking?

That would be
reassuring, wouldn't it?

Listen Albin, I don't know
what's with you, but do me a favor.

Leave me alone.

- You want to be left alone?
- Yes.

- To resume you lonely stroll?
- Yes.

You like long lonely
walks in the woods?

Yes, i like long lonely
walks in the woods.

You also like the crowd,
the city and popular fests.

No, I like the countryside,
some quiet and solitude.

Yes, you do.

You like the rabble,
strong odors, sweat,

brutality.

I like softness.

And also brutal violence.

Don't deny it.

I know everything.

Look.

Look.

I see.

What are you?

A blackmailer?

I'm not a blackmailer.

You think I want
to blackmail you?

What then?

The hell if I know...

I want you to leave Andreas.

I don't want to see
you together.

I can't bare it.

Leave him.

Go away with me.

Poor Albin.

Do not call me that.

If I wanted, I'd force
you to have sex right now.

Do you hear?

Leave Hartman tonight!

No, i'll never leave him.

This is an order.

Calm down.

OK, i'll show him
the pictures.

It's useless.

We'll see.

Stupid fool.

- Andre knows.
- It's not true.

You judge people
according to your standarts.

But we are made of stronger wood.

We don't wine about ourselves.

You can't understand
the bond between Andre and I.

You are lying, I see
it in your eyes.

Am I?

I'll do it. We'll see.

Wait. Listen to me.

When I met Andre,
he was on the brink of suicide.

He had lost the will for life,
the belief in himself nor anyone.

Same as me.
I was as low as he was.

We saved ourselves.

We are united for life.

One does not exist
without the other.

Right. And where does
this guy fit in the picture?

None of your business.

- You sleep with him.
- Yes.

And Hartman is an indulgent husband.

- Yes he knows.-
- I don't believe it.

- Let's go away together.
- No.

I'll tell him everything then.

It's useless.

I can't go back now,
I went too far.

Please don't go.

Please don't go Albin,
what's in it for you?

My name is Andre Mercier.
Albin in my nom-de-plume.

Where is Hartman?

What are you saying, stupid?
Where is Hartman?

What a surprise.

Drop it, here are
some nice souvenir shots.

Happiness is a fragile thing.

All was left to do was wait.

Dear God!

No, Andre, no!

My love.

It can't be...
Helene, my love...

Andreas, it's my fault.

I did it all.

It was I who
killed her, not you.

Listen to me please!

I'm a monster,
I don't deserve to die.

Let me tell them
I killed her. Let me confess.

Have pity on me.
Try to understand.

I don't care.

They took him away at dawn.

I tried to understand
I was responsable.

They didn't get it,
they didn't believe me.

What did he say?

He said: "I pity you".

I called the newspaper
to tell them I wanted to go back.

They refused.

So I quit.

I moved to a provincial
town, but it didn't work.

There was nothing I could do.

All I told this story to people
who shrugged their shoulders.

I can't help telling it.

They don't believe it,
they don't understand.

They can't figure out when
a nice boy like me

takes pleasure in
tarnishing his reputation.

A good blow, Sir Arthur.

Someday I'll learn never
to wager against you.

May I speak
with Your Worship?

I found him, Your Worship.
I found him.

- Where?
- Near St. James's Gate.

He lives with Amos Kidder,
a gunsmith.

- Amos Kidder, eh?
- Yes, Your Worship.

- Wait for me outside.
- Yes, Your Worship.

- Grandfather?
- Aye, Ben?

Why do they say
I have no name?

- Who says it?
- The boys at the school.

I fought one
for it yesterday.

I'll fight them all
if I must.

Aye, Ben,
you'll have to fight-

fight all your life,
belike.

- But why do they say it?
- You're young yet, Ben.

Where's my father
and mother?

Dead- both of'em.
They died in India.

Is that why they say
I have no name?

Because my mother
and father are dead?

Ben, when you're older you shall know
the whole story. Now look here, Ben.

Any fool can make a firearm...

but only a craftsman,
one that the user can trust.

You'll learn
the gunsmith's trade...

and someday the shop will be yours,
for I'll not live forever.

Think of it, Ben.

The gentry comin' in and orderin' pistols
and no better in the land.

I'll make pistols,
none better.

But I'll shoot them myself.

- Good morning, Master Kidder.
- Good morning, Your Worship.

- Do you remember me?
- Aye, Your Worship.

Why haven't I been informed
that my brother left a son?

No, no, no.
This is my son- my own.

Don't take me for a fool.

Look at him.
The Blake eyes, the Blake chin-

And the Blake temper too.

Come, man, the truth.
It'll do you no good to lie to me.

Aye, he is Sir Godfrey's son,
and my daughter Bessie's.

That's better.
Now then, what do you call him?

- Ben, Your Worship.
- Ben, eh?

Well, Ben, how would you like
to live with me at Breetholm?

A gunsmith's forge
is no place for a Blake.

Plague take me, you have the blood, even if
you were born on the wrong side of the blanket.

You'll be brought up
as a gentleman.

No handle
to your name, perhaps...

but horses and a servant
of your own and all the rest that goes with it.

Begging Your Worship's pardon,
I'd like to keep him here with me.

Would you deprive the lad
of his birthright?

No, Your Worship.
I know his father was a gentleman.

And his mother was a lady-
by her gifts if not by birth.

But he's mine. I brought him up
since he was a tiny baby.

Can you read?

No, Your Worship.

'Tis a writ naming me
the boy's guardian...

and charging me with the responsibility
of his welfare.

Get the boy's clothes.

Well, my dear, here he is.
Your new mistress, Ben.

Mistress, Arthur?

Naturally. I expect to give the boy
something to occupy his time.

- The stables I think.
- Arthur!

The lad has pride,
just like his father.

Oh, the pattern fits.
You'll be surprised how well it fits.

Godfrey would take nothing
that didn't belong to him.

If the lad is the same, he'll be only
too eager to work for his keep.

Well, speak up, boy.

I will take nothing
that is not mine.

Well spoken.

A true Blake, you see,
in speech, manners and pride.

That'll be all, Purdy.

- Oh, Paddy.
- Yes, Your Worship?

This lad is young and green.
I put him in your charge.

See if you can make
a stable boy out of him.

Yes, Your Worship.

There's no question about it.
The boy is Godfrey's son.

I think I know why you want him here.

- Do you, my dear?
- Because he is the rightful heir to Breetholm.

- Nonsense.
- And you're afraid that someday, somehow, he'll prove his right.

You know as well as I do,
there's no record of Godfrey's marriage.

None except Godfrey's own record
while he lived.

He could do
nothing dishonorable.

My noble brother-

he always made fools
of his women.

And now, my dear...

shall I tell you why I want
that brat of his here?

As a gift to you.

His presence here
will remind you of his mother-

the woman Godfrey
preferred to you.

We cleans the harness.
Then we eat.

Here.

Take it to bench yonder and mind
you don't drag it in dirt.

I told you not to dirty it!
Now we've twice the work!

Fight me, will you?
There!

- Paddy! Give over!
- How 'bout that?

Give over!
You wanna kill him?

- Master put him in my care.
- I'm master in this stable...

and there'll be
no beatings, hear?

He's calling for his chestnut mare
and Miss Isabel's pony.

Go and saddle 'em.

Ben?

Ben, lad,
are you bad hurt?

- I'll kill him.
- Oh, no, no, no.

No talk of killing, Ben.

I worked for your father,
and I loved him.

We all did.
He let a man be a man...

whatever his position.

From now on you're bound to Sir Arthur-
his servant for life.

He can do with you
what he will...

and he'll always
have the law on his side.

You'll have to make
the best of it, lad.

- And if you're wise, you'll submit like the rest of us.
- No.

Aye.
You'll learn as you grow.

Come to my cottage
when you've finished your work...

and my wife will give you
a good supper.

I ran away.

You're limping, lad.

- Are you hurt?
- A stone in my shoe.

Why did you run away?

He- He made me a stable boy,
and I've been beaten.

- God forgive us.
- Why does he hate me so, Grandfather?

Because you're bred true.
Because you have the blood of the family.

Because he knows that it's only the lack
of a parson's blessing...

that makes him
cock of Breetholm walk.

He shakes in his ugly boots
every time he looks at you.

I'm not going back.

No. No, you can't go back.

We must leave
before he finds you're gone.

We'll sleep
on the road tonight.

And tomorrow it'll be new names,
a new life.

And the money I saved
will be good for a start.

Get some bread and cheese
from the kitchen.

How will we live
when our money's gone?

I'll find work.
There'll be other gunsmiths.

Work for a wage
in another man's shop?

I've done it before.
I can do it again.

- What could he do if he caught us?
- You'd go back to Breetholm.

And you, Grandfather?

Men have been
branded and jailed for less.

You'd risk that for me?

You're the beat
of my heart, Ben.

Come. It's late, and we have
a long road ahead of us.

No. We're not leaving.

- I'm going back to Breetholm.
- Ben, what are you sayin'?

He said I was a Blake
in all but name.

I'll show him.

I'll take whatever he has to give me,
and I'll mark it down.

And someday when I am master
of Breetholm, I'll give it back.

He can do with me
as he pleases...

but I'll never submit.

Say good-bye to me, Ben.
My tongue's stuck.

Well, we're almost ready,
milord.

- The vixens have whelped a splendid lot of cubs this year.
- Indeed?

'Pon my soul, I don't believe
I've yet presented my daughter. Here she is.

Or shouldn't we be interrupting?

This is my daughter, Isabel.

Lord Tarrant. Lord Tarrant
rides with us today.

- Your servant, Mistress Isabel.
- Your servant, milord.

- Mr. Hobart of Foxcroft Hall.
- How do you do, milord?

- How do you do?
- I'll give you my black mare.

She's light, but well up
to your weight.

Where's that rascal Ben?
The mare should be here by now.

I'll go, Father.

Excuse me, gentlemen.

Why isn't the mare
at the house?

She's an arbitrary female.
She lost a shoe and kept it a secret.

You'll never learn,
will you, Ben?

- What?
- How to be civil to your superiors.

I'm always civil...
to my superiors.

Now you grow rude
and impertinent.

You women are all alike-
accusing someone else of your own failings.

Mistress Isabel, your father
is waiting for the mare.

She's ready.
I'll bring her out.

Master Hobart, tell my father
I'm not well enough to ride today.

- Oh, I say. I mean, what-
- Just say it's a headache.

I shall be quite
recovered at tea.

Huh. Well, it's good to know when
you're going to get over them, isn't it?

You didn't say
you were sorry I was ill.

If you are, then I am.

You presume to think I feigned a headache
to stay here and talk to you?

I didn't say that either.

What think you
of Master Hobart?

I like his clothes.

Would you like
to know a secret?

He's asked for my hand.

Well, it's only
to be expected.

I've noticed him handling it
at every opportunity.

It should make your father
very pleased.

Whatever put that
in your head?

That which puts things
in most people's heads- observation.

Then you've been
observing me with him.

- Yes.
- Were you not jealous?

Jealous? One has to be
in love to be jealous.

You haven't
answered my question.

Nor do I intend to.

Please, Mistress Isabel.

Answer me!
Are you jealous?

You lout.
You impertinent, unruly clod.

Of course I'm jealous,
you little fool.

I'm jealous of anyone who touches you
or even looks at you.

I'm jealous of that idiot Hobart,
of your Father, of even-

even the house servants.

I'm jealous of anyone
who can be near you.

Now have I answered you?

- Where have you been?
- The mare had a shoe loose, Your Worship.

- She would have thrown it at the first fence.
- Huh.

- Well, assist His Lordship to mount.
- Yes, Your Worship.

You clumsy fool!

My apologies, milord.

A beautiful evening,
Mistress Isabel.

- Ben.
- Sir Benjamin.

What are you doing here?

Dancing.

But my father-

You must be mad.

It's quite possible.

Follow me.

- You shouldn't have done this, Ben.
- I had to.

You looked so lovely,
I couldn't keep away.

- You're a fool, darling.
- Darling?

Only a slip of the tongue.

What makes you so confident
I won't call my father?

- Because you love me.
- Do I?

For all you know, I may be
just amusing myself. Just-

- Ben.
- Even in jest, you mustn't say things like that, Isabel.

Tell me that
you love me.

Say it.

- Say it.
- I love you, Ben.

I do love you.

That's what I had to hear
before I go.

That's what I had
to take with me.

- Before you go?
- Yes, I'm leaving tonight.

But you can't.

I don't want you to go now.

- Isn't this enough? Isn't it?
- No.

I want my birthright.
I want Breetholm.

Don't you see, darling? It's- It's being here
and yet not having what is mine...

being near you and not being
able to be with you always.

I want all the world
to know that I love you.

Just wait for me, Isabel.

Wait? L-
I don't understand.

You will one day,
when you are my wife.

Promise me that too.

- Ben.
- Yes?

When you find the way to become
master of Breetholm-

I'll find it.

You'll find the way
to make me your wife.

Go into the house.

Come with me.

Light the lantern.

I intend to teach you
a lesson, Ben.

You're hot-blooded, and you will find trouble
as long as you live.

I mean to teach you
how to handle yourself-

the manly art
of self-defense-

so in the future you will always be able
to give as well as take.

Have you ever fought
with your fists, Ben?

- Yes.
- I don't mean vulgar scuffling in the stables.

- I mean according to the rules of the prize ring.
- No, sir.

Take off your coat,
and your education will begin.

Your first lesson-
Never be taken unawares.

Call yourself a Blake,
will you?

Pose as a gentleman,
will you?

Open the door! Open the door!

Open the door!
Open the door!

Stop!
For mercy's sake, stop!

Why are you
doing this for me?

Ben, I have no right
to tell you this.

After all,
he is my husband.

But I am sure, as sure as we hope for salvation,
that he's robbed you...

that Breetholm
is rightfully yours.

I have no proof, Ben,
except what is in my heart...

and what I remember
of your father.

But proof there must be,
and someday you'll find it.

And when you do, I want you
to know that I will help you.

Why?

Because, had my prayers
been answered...

you would have been my son.

Here's the clothes you wrote for.
And a fine bargain I made.

- Have you news of a ship?
- There's one out of Bristol tomorrow...

- for Portagee Brazil and Spice Islands.
- A merchantman?

Aye. A brig of nigh 200 ton.
Her name the Tropic Star.

But you'll be
weak to try it, Ben.

How weak
do you think I am?

He walks feeble,
but he don't stand feeble.

Look.

I let him think
I wasn't as well as I am.

Remember what
your grandpa said.

You was only to run for last ship when flesh
and blood can stand no more.

- You speak for my grandfather, Pale Tom?
- Aye.

- Will you listen for him too?
- Aye.

Flesh and blood
can stand no more.

- What is it, Ben?
- My business is with him.

What business, Ben?
I must know. Is it killing?

- Not unless he tries it first.
- Oh, Ben, I beg of you.

If you so much as touch him,
he can have you hanged.

- I know that.
- Is it worth throwing your whole life away?

Till this matter is settled,
my life means very little.

He keeps a pistol
in the table drawer by his bed.

Is this what
you're looking for?

If you put that away,
I'll fight you fair.

You really think I'd soil
my hands on a stable boy?

You were ready enough to soil
them when I couldn't hit back.

I've been very patient
with you, Ben...

but I'm afraid
it's hopeless.

I've done everything in my power to help you
find yourself. Apparently I've failed.

You've broken in here and threatened me,
your master, with assault.

It's jail for you,
my lad.

A few years in Bristol Newgate
should teach you your place.

Come in.

Well, come in, you fool!

The window, you fool!

Light the candles!

Open!
Open!

Has thy grandson been here?

Put out the candle.

Sit over there.

He's coming.

Are they after you?

Follow me. Listen.
Mind the tap, will you?

You'll be safe here, sir.

But you'll go to jail
if they find me with you.

I was born in jail.

Open, in the king's name!

Oh, go away, will you?

- Open the door!
- Be quiet, for the love of mercy. I've got a gentleman here.

Does he want
the whole street to hear?

Gentleman?
We're looking for a rogue.

Well, look somewhere else.

You're frightening
my gentleman.

All right, doxie.

This is all I have.

- I don't want it.
- Take it. I have work for you.

What can I do, sir?

Can you learn the exact whereabouts
of the brig Tropic Star...

and the true hour
she'll sail?

There are sailors who will
tell me more than that.

- Do you know the gunsmithery near St. James's Gate?
- Aye.

There's an old man works there,
by name Amos Kidder.

He wears silver-rimmed
spectacles...

and he's likely to have stubble
on his chin and kind eyes.

You best watch out
for the king's men who'll be about.

Tell the old man that I love him,
that I'll see him when I come back from the Indies.

Aye.

I'll go now.

I'll lock the door.

Stay quiet
till I come back.

Shh.

It's nearly time, and you've
a clear road to the dock.

Did you see my grandfather?

They've taken him to jail.

- Then I stay in England.
- No. No, you mustn't. He said so.

- You saw him in the jail?
- They know me there.

He said-
I- I have it by memory-

"Tell Ben he can serve me best
by going to the Indies...

"and coming back
with his fortune.

"Gold will unlock
every door.

"He can't get me out
if he stays...

and they'll hang him sure
for what he did. "

That's what he said.

- Where's the Tropic Star?
- Off the old sugar docks...

barely a stone's throw
from here.

And the tide's
within the hour.

What's your real name,
Your Honor?

Don't call me that.

My name is Ben.
Nothing more.

What's yours?

Isabel.

- Why do you look so?
- Nothing.

I know it's too fine a name
for a girl like me...

but my mother gave it to me
meaning no harm.

No name could be
too fine for you.

Oh, do you mean that, sir?

You think it means nothing to me
that you likely saved my life?

- And no reason?
- Oh, yes. I had a reason.

- What?
- You won't laugh at me?

I could never
laugh at you, Isabel.

Because you're a gentleman-

the first that ever
came to my door.

Maggie Martin, now,
at the corner-

she knew a clerk
of the king's court once...

and she's talked of it
ever since.

She's got a silver ring
and a carpet...

and a drinking mug
with roses painted on it...

fit for a queen.

But she never
knew a gentleman.

Oh, it's time
you were going now, sir.

Please, sir, could I walk with you
to the corner maybe?

I'd like Maggie Martin
to see us together.

Then she'd know
you'd been here.

Who were he?

The Duke of Roehampton.

Stowaway, sir.
Just found him in the hold.

- Can you use an extra hand, Mr. Grimes?
- Aye. That I can, sir.

- Have you ever been to sea?
- No.

You'll learn.

Your first lesson is that
you'll always call me sir.

Set your gallants and royals,
Mr. Grimes.

Aye, aye, sir. Gallants and royals!
Look alive!

You, Caleb Green, lay aft and sit up
on the weather vane.

Aye, aye, sir.

- What's your course?
- Nor-norwest.

Mm-hmm.

You're a full point
off your course.

Keep awake!

Why did you deflect
the compass last night?

What are you
talking about?

You know what I mean. You changed it,
and I took one from the mate for it.

- I wanna know why you did it.
- Aye. You've a right to know.

You see this?

I noticed it before.

"D." "D" for debtor.

Fifteen years
in the swamps of Guyana.

Fifteen years in the hot irons
because I owed �10.

My crime was
having no money.

Mine was having no name.

I wanna know why
you changed the course.

If you look at the charts, you'll see
there are islands to the southwest of here.

- Yes?
- There's a fortune to be made in those islands.

I heard the tale from Spanish sailors
that touched there long ago.

Oyster pearls bright as the moon
and big as your fist.

A fortune for the man
that dares try for it.

Why do you think I shipped in this stinking tub?
I've been waiting three years.

Begged and starved in the gutters of Bristol
for a berth like this one-

a ship that would
sail these waters.

If there's a fortune to be
picked up so readily...

why haven't
the Spanishers come back?

They made a bloody record
when they were there.

The islanders were peaceful enough at first,
but they finally arose to drive them out.

There was a massacre, and only
a few of the Spanishers escaped.

- Have the islanders forgotten?
- Aye. I doubt it.

You mean to chance it alone?

Aye, I'll chance it...
to wipe this clean forever.

- You're going to desert when we get to the island, huh?
- Aye.

And if you breathe
a word of this to a soul, I'll kill you.

You aloft! Stow your gab
and get on with your work!

You heard me?

Aye, I heard.

And don't concern yourself.

I'll say nothing
for a very good reason.

I'm going with you.

Land ho!

- Where away?
- Two points off the starboard bow!

Land? Here?

There ain't
any on the chart...

unless we're 50 knots
west of our course.

There's strong currents hereabouts.

Or perhaps it's a magnetic variation.

Stove in me ribs. I've got more dirt
than that under me toenails.

Nay, there's
a big island beyond.

- 'Tis a cloud.
- No, look!

'Tis inhabited.
I can see the marks of cooking fires.

- We'll not take water there, Mr. Grimes.
- Belike they're peaceful, sir?

Nay, I've been warned
of the islanders hereabouts.

Bloodthirsty cannibals,
every one.

But we'll seek an anchorage
and lie to for the night.

- Up a point, Mr. Grimes, and put a man in the chains.
- Aye, aye, sir. Up a point!

Look! She's leaving.

Aye.
We've burned our bridges.

Europa!

- The Spanishers.
- Aye. We're in for it.

Wait!

Give me your pistol.

Ah!

Not as big as your fist
or as bright as the moon...

but she'll do
for a start.

Well, hello.

Where did you come from?

What's your name?

I'm diving for oysters.

Maybe you can tell me
which ones have pearls in them.

I think I'll call you Eve.

I don't believe
she's ever heard of Eve.

Well, perhaps
you'll present me.

On my island
those are valuable.

People who have them
can buy much breadfruit...

pawpaw, poi.

She thinks I mean we eat them.

I'd best teach you English
so you'll understand.

- It's growing late, lad.
- The pearls will still be there tomorrow.

So will the girl.

I'll try the deeper bed.

Hey!

Human mermaid.

This time you won't
get away so easily.

- Where are you going?
- You expect me to stay?

- You should have told me, lad.
- I didn't ask her.

You looked at her.
In these islands 'tis the same thing as asking.

I'll tell her she must go.

- That would be foolish, Ben.
- Why?

The old chief told me ours was the first ship
to touch here since the Spanishers left.

That was seven years ago.
Might be 20 before another passed.

You mean we-
we might be here for life?

Aye. We might.

Eve-

How can I explain to you?

No bride was ever
more beautiful.

L- O-V-E.

Love.

- Love.
- Yes.

M- E.

Me.

- Me?
- No, no. No. Me.