All language subtitles for A Carta, La lettre (1999) EN

Pedro, are you ready?

- It's time.
- OK.

AFilm by

May the music be with you.

THE LETTER

Written by

Produced by

Directed by

It's superb.
They're all beautiful.

For my daughter,
I'd prefer something simpler.

Of course.

Let me show you
what would suit her best.

May 1?

A unique piece.

Ill leave you to choose.
I'll be right back.

Do you like it?

Is everything to your satisfaction,
Mr. de Cléves?

Yes. Who are those ladies?

They are noblewomen.

Look. Francois de Guise
has fallen for your daughter.

He certainly has all the signs.

But his parents don't approve.

They don't?

An old family quarrel.

They prefer a different girl.
Mine doesn't care for him anyway.

I didn't know.

It serves them right.

- Does she love another?
- She used to.

But not him.

She finds him too young.

Her necklace is magnificent.

How can she be so sad
with such a gorgeous necklace?

I bought it for her a few days ago.

I hoped it would help her.

She's going
through a difficult period.

That difficult?

You know today's youth.

So unlike
your daughter's upbringing.

The gap can only lead to trouble.

Perhaps.

But I have no regrets.

Young people today are reckless.

They live to be silly.

Catherine and I abhor such silliness.

- But she is suffering.
- I'm aware of that.

But her virtue prevents her
from suffering even more.

I understand.

I even agree.

She deserves a steady,
happy life of matrimony.

- But you can't change the world.
- I don't intend to.

- But we must defend ourselves.
- Defend ourselves?

How can one person
defy all of society?

It takes fortitude.

Theft and murder were on a par,
five centuries ago.

Morality is morality.

Times change, of course...

...but something always endures.

And there are exceptions,
thank goodness!

Are we exceptions?

We're rare pearls.

Look.

Another pearl: Mr. de Cléves.

A highly esteemed doctor, both...

...upright and rich.
Ideal for your daughter.

I want you to meet someone.

How are you?

- And you?
- Well, thank you.

Mr. de Cléves,
Miss de Chartres.

How do you do?

Will you join us?

Mr. de Cléves,
Mrs. de Chartres.

Will you stay with us?

I'd like to,
but Francois de Guise is waiting.

- Excuse me.
- May I escort you?

See? I knew she'd appeal to him.
She's a true beauty.

Your daughter is delightful.
I hear you brought her up very well.

I won't deny it, Mr. de Cléves.

But I was, perhaps,
unmindful of the times.

- What worries you?
- Her happiness.

How is one to bring up a girl
nowadays?

How can such a perfect girl
fail to be happy?

I agree. Beauty combined
with goodness is a rare gift,

but cannot replace
a proper upbringing.

Which is why her happiness depends
on choosing the right husband.

No one will ever love you like I do.

Do you hear me?

I'love you as no other can.

Yes, Francois, I heard.
Lets listen to the pianist now.

"The same evening in Paris,

"as Maria Jodo Pires played
at the Gulbenkian Cultural Centre,

"Pedro Abrunhosa gave a concert.”

I want you to be my voice.

I want to hear you,
here, very loud.

"It's Hard".

Who knows this song?

I want to hear you.

When the world goes to sleep

It's easier to give in

When night falls

It's hard not to cry

I don't want to be

The light that used to shine in me

I don't want to be the first

I am the time that's gone

I don't want to be

The tears that you see

I don't want to be the first

I'm a ship on the waves

I'love you

I woke up

And I felt so lonely

I'm a ship without a sail

A body without a sheet

I rose with the day

And dressed in black

A weary motion

A gaze in the desert

When the world goes to sleep

It's easier to give in

When night falls

It's hard not to cry

I don't want to be

The light that used to shine in me

I don't want to be the first

I am the time that's gone

I don't want to be

The tears that you see

I don't want to be the first

I'm a ship on the waves

"Unmoved by
Francois de Guise's adoration,

"Catherine de Chartres
married Louis de Cléves.

"After a brief honeymoon,
less than a month later

"they set up house in Paris.

"The head of the Gulbenkian Centre

"invited Pedro Abrunhosa
to sing at a gala party.”

Wherever you are, I'll be there

Wherever you go, I'll go

If you want me to

My body is your world,

One kiss, one second,

You're part of me

Wherever you look, I'll go running

If ever I lose you, I'll die

The day you grow distant

Ill sail away

Guitars will play for you like before

Hold on to me tonight

Feel the time that slipped away

Hold on to me tonight

Tomorrow I'll be gone

Hold on to me tonight

Feel the time that slipped away

Hold on to me tonight

Tomorrow I'll be gone

- Wonderful.
- He is superb. What a voice!

He's a rising star.
New York may be next. He'll go far.

Pedro Abrunhosa!

Mrs. de Chartres
and Mr. and Mrs. de Cléves

want to greet you for the concert.

- Iloved it.
- I'm most flattered.

I'm not flattering you.
I'm being sincere.

Your music may not be
my favourite kind,

but your singing really touched me.

Sincerely, I was moved.

Sincerely?

Sincerely.

Congratulations.

Thank you, Mr. de Cléves.
You're very kind.

And you, Madame?
You probably didn't like it much.

On the contrary, I loved it. Truly!

- Truly?
- Yes.

I'd have been very sad
if you didn't.

Nonsense!
Everyone was delighted.

Thank you again.

Cheers!

"Mrs. de Chartres fell gravely ill

"and took to her bed in the country.”

This will relieve your pain,
if need be.

As for the rest,

keep to the same medicine and diet.

I know how sick I am.

I can feel it.

Doctor...

...be frank.

Tell me how long I have left.

I fear I must tell you...

...not long.

I knew as much.

Thank you for your honesty.

As your doctor and an old friend,

I must tell you the truth.

I admire your courage
and strength of mind.

My worries
are of another order now.

Do you need anything?

I need to talk to you.

First show the doctor out.

Then come back.

Your mother is very brave.

She knows how sick she is.

She needs all your help
to ease her suffering.

W's as bad as I feared?

Unfortunately... yes.

- Call me any time.
- Thank you, doctor.

After you.

To what do we owe this visit?

I came to enquire
after your mother's health.

If I can do anything...

That's very thoughtful of you.

- He is concerned about Mother.
- How very kind.

Excuse me. Mother's waiting.
My husband will keep you company.

Mrs. de Chartres' health
has us very worried.

Let's go next door.

I hear you're highly courted.
Even in New York.

It's one of the few cities
I've accepted.

- You'll raise the roof.
- I'll certainly try.

Mr. de Silva is on the line.

- Excuse me.
- Of course.

What's wrong, daughter?

1 didn't mean to,
but I fell asleep.

- I'm sorry I woke you.
- It doesn't matter.

I was just dozing.

It took you some time.

Pedro Abrunhosa arrived
as the doctor was leaving.

To enquire after you.

The next minute,
Louis came home and released me.

Released...

- That's the word.
- What do you mean?

My child...

You are my only concern.

You must know
what the doctor expects.

Knowing how much you need me,
makes all the more horrible

having to leave you.
- What are you saying?

I 'am in no fit state
to ask you to confess

or to take advantage of your sincerity
to impose my advice.

I am aware of your attraction

to Pedro Abrunhosa.

I chose not to mention it,

hoping you'd remain unaware.

I'm afraid my silence was too facile,

as now you are
at the edge of a cliff.

A terrible struggle awaits you.

Remember what you owe your husband.

Remember what...
you owe yourself.

Give no one cause
to blacken your reputation.

Be strong and brave.

Choose the paths
that seem at first

the steepest and hardest.

Later, you'll find them easier

than the pain

of a love affair
with Pedro Abrunhosa.

He'd quickly forget you.

Only one thing could disturb

the peace I hope to find

as I leave this world:

the sight of you falling

like other women.

If such misery is to be your lot,

then I am happy to die

before I witness it.

Farewell, my daughter.

Think about what I've said.

Let's cut short this conversation,
which is weakening us both.

Relax.

Leave me, now.

I need to rest a while.

"Pedro Abrunhosa was taking New York
by storm.

"When a friend called to tell him

"Mrs. de Chartres had died.

"He made arrangements with his agent

"and took the first plane to Paris.”

I'm terribly sorry.

How sad.

I share your sorrow.

My condolences.

It's so sad.
Such a great loss.

My condolences.

I'm sorry. Sincerely.

I know. Thank you.

- My deepest sympathy.
- Thank you.

Be strong.

You lost your mother,
I lost my best friend.

Now she lives inside us.

That should soothe our pain.

- Take heart, Madame.
- Thank you.

I'm sorry. My condolences.

"Afew days later,

"Pedro Abrunhosa came
to pay his condolences

“to Mr. and Mrs. de Cléves."

Tell that gentleman I'm not in.

Monsieur and Madame, please.

He's out. She's in her room.
She won't see anyone.

"Abrunhosa returned to New York.

"Mrs. de Cléves
visited a childhood friend,

"now a nun,
in whom she often confided.”

What a pleasure!

- As pretty as ever.
- You're the pretty one.

I'ma nun.
I don't have to be pretty.

As pretty and as pious.

In your eyes.

You're in mourning?

Mother died.

Comfort me.
I need comforting.

What else is there?

- Various things...
- What things?

Let's go inside.

Sit down.

Mother Angelique Arnauld.

I've never been here before.

Mother Angelique
brought Jansenism to our convent.

Jansenism...

Just before she died,

my mother recalled the importance
of women's reputation.

She was absolutely right.

I know.

My torment is elsewhere.

Where?

You know me well.

You know how I suffered...

...when that other boy left me.

He tried to come back, but...

You turned him down. I remember.

He left because you refused
some of his demands.

You did the right thing.

1 don't know what's right anymore.

The girls I know
have a different approach.

They don't think twice.

They let their boyfriends take them,
easily.

They talk to me about it.

Uninhibitedly,

as if nothing could be more natural.

- And the boys...
- Revel in it.

They just want fun.

Is that normal?

A different girl every day?

It's not your problem.

Or your fault.
Does it shock you?

It doesn't surprise me.

They're happy to be superficial.

God made men free.

They seek worldly pleasures.

You know...

I'm a little lost.

Ilike my husband.

I'm fond of him. Deeply fond.

But...

Love?

The fact is,
I've never really loved anyone.

You don't love your husband?

I like him very much.

But love him? With true love?

No...

I don't.

- But you married him.
- Yes, because he made me feel

respect and admiration.

And because he really loves me.

Not like that boy.

He wanted to take liberties
that weren't his due.

I suffered greatly.

What he felt for me was desire,
not love.

My husband loves me.

My marriage has brought me
some security

and emotional comfort.

The fact that I can't return his love
torments me.

It pains me to think

that I was selfish

when I agreed to marry him.

Marriage is not based on love,

and even less on passion.

It is based on consent.

And consent

is a subtle form of love.

For the Church, that's marriage.

If this is all that torments you...

Come, now...

I see you in deep gloom.

It's hard to tell you,

but I need to speak,
to unburden myself to someone.

You're the only one I can trust.

Go on.

I'm in love.

What?
You can't be!

We can control our feelings,
but we can't avoid them.

My mother saw how I felt
and warned me.

In what terms?

My duty to my husband

and my reputation.

Reputation?

Who cares about that nowadays?

What does the heart care
about reputation?

I'm caught in a trap.

Worst of all, I know he loves me.

How do you know?

I saw him

steal a picture of me

and slip it in his pocket.

He'd come to ask after mother.

But I'd felt it in him. In his eyes.

My God.
What will you do?

Avoid him. What else can I do?

But it's not easy.

It's Pedro Abrunhosa.

- Have you heard of him?
- No.

- Why would I have?
- He's famous.

He's a singer.

And a womaniser.

People say he has many mistresses.

You must be strong, dear friend,
and forget him.

He's a danger,

a bane to your peace of mind.

I know.

He's the cross I bear.

The world has changed hands,
from politics to economics.

You mean money rules now?

Money is idolized,
like the golden calf.

You're very pessimistic.

I wish I had no cause to be.

And what, pray,
is the cause of your dismay?

...a landmark in Algiers.
The grenade, thrown by a boy of 18...

Posturing of that ilk.

Aren't they cause enough?

It's certainly all appalling...

But take a wider view.

They'll never kill us all!
They can't!

If we refuse to cooperate...

Real revolutions are different.

They play...

...a necessary role, just like wars,

in mankind's ongoing struggle
against injustice.

Over the past ten years,

wars have left
over two million children dead

and over six million
wounded or maimed.

They're in the nature of things.

Today's children
may become tomorrow's tortures.

Remember, Louis,

every single nation

was forged from steel and fire.

What do you think?

I think so too.

I'm sorry.
The TV distracted me.

- Don't you think she's right?
- Probably.

Wars today are often fought
by children under 15.

It's like we're back
in the Middle Ages.

There's no comparison.

- Progress has been made.
- The 35-hour work week,

according to Labour Secretary,
Martins Aubry...

Women have rights
which were once denied.

I agree.

Bill Clinton says America is facing
economic disaster...

The system is at fault.

...but that it can be averted
if this country supports him.

I agree.

I'd even say
there's no way out of the system.

We're marching over a cliff.

The following news has just come in.

A massive pile-up on the highway

near Charles de Gaule airport.

Among the injured,
Pedro Abrunhosa.

Sports, now.

Another drug scandal
rocks the sports world...

You screamed?

1 stifled it, too late.

I almost fainted.

- What did he say?
- Nothing.

We were with the De Silvas.
It was awful!

They remarked on the accident...

...then they got up and left.
- And your husband?

He didn't say a word.
He went pale.

He said he'd had an exhausting day

and went to bed.

I was left alone in confusion.

I'm sure it was hard
for both of you.

But you did nothing wrong.

You over reacted, that's all.

Time will heal it.

The irksome memory will fade.

You're right. And there's nothing else
I can do. It will blow over.

"As fate would have it,

"the hospital in which
the singer was treated

"was next to the convent.”

Do exactly as I say.

I'm looking for Mr. Abrunhosa.

He gets out tomorrow.
That's his doctor.

How are you? May I help you?

I was visiting a nun
just next door,

so I thought
I'd ask about Pedro Abrunhosa.

He was in that accident.

- He should be out tomorrow.
- So I've heard.

I'm glad it wasn't serious.

Thank you for your help.

My pleasure.
Give my regards to your husband.

- I will. Goodbye.
- Goodbye.

Pity me, not Pedro Abrunhosa!

My respect for you
can no longer mask my pain.

Please!

- I'll say it now and never again.
- You can be sure of that.

Death or eternal exile
are my only salvation.

Now I know that another's love
for you may be requited.

I don't know what you mean,
or why you're here.

Love has unbridled me.

Is there no faint ray of hope
to ease my pain?

I really don't understand.
My husband is waiting.

My husband is waiting.

It was a pure coincidence.

You never told me
you went to see Abrunhosa.

1 didn't see him.
I asked at the desk.

I was leaving
when your colleague saw me.

I only went there
because it's next to the convent.

1 didn't mention it because I forgot.

Hearing it second-hand is unpleasant.

I also heard
that de Guise was there too.

He followed you out
and died, run over.

- Strange, very strange.
- 1 find your tone strange.

Accidents are unfortunate,
but they do happen.

- Every day.
- All the more reason to tell me!

I learned of his death much later.

And went to the hospital
because I was nearby.

It's perfectly normal
to ask about Abrunhosa.

As for the accident,
it seems de Guise wasn't looking.

Your shock at the TV news
puzzled me too.

It was instinctive.

Everyone found it exaggerated.

Perhaps,
but I have a clear conscience.

Even after de Guise's death?

Your attitude surprises me.

You seem to trust me less.

In all fairness,
I should be blaming you.

Have you forgotten that day
you left me alone in the country?

I didn't blame you. I could have.

- You don't remember?
- Yes, I do.

- Mrs. de Tournon...
- Exactly.

Hearing of her death
would have saddened me.

I'd have grieved,
though I never met her.

It's always sad
when a young woman,

so pretty, dies in two days.

I wished I could have come home,

but her husband was so stricken,
I had to stay.

You mustn't let her death
upset you so.

I'm surprised.

You had the highest regard for her.

That's true.
But women are incomprehensible.

And when I see them all,

I'm so happy to have you.
My happiness knows no bounds.

"Abrunhosa went to a photography show

"which the Cultural Centre
had organized in his honour

"before the accident.”

- Madame...
- I didn't see you.

I'm glad to see you're well.

I assume the crutch is only...

I have to go.
My husband is waiting.

See you soon.

I called on you when I got out.

We were away for a while.

Goodbye.

Madame,
I'm sorry if I made you late.

No harm done. Goodbye.

- Madame.
- It's late.

"I don't want to be the first to cry.”

I don't want to be

The first to cry

The first to cry...

"A few days later.”

- You keep bringing it up.
- You brought up Mrs. de Tournon.

There's more to be said.

I can feel it in my heart.

Even if it pains you,
I'm entitled to know,

if only to help you.

I've wanted to confess this for ages,

but I don't know how.

I've been afraid to.

Even though I want to,

I don't know if I should.

Your silence hurts more than words.

Speak.
Don't leave me doubting.

You're right.

It is my duty, and my desire,
to be true to you.

- But I'm scared...
- Of hurting me?

A man's reputation never kept others
from loving his wife.

It's an odious fact
that must be borne.

Tell me all, I beg you.

1 will confess as no wife ever did,

but the knowledge of my innocence
fortifies me.

I have not weakened yet
and would have no fear of doing so,

if you let me go far away.

- You want to leave me?
- No, dear God.

Understand me.

Forgive me for these feelings
that displease you.

I can't help them. But my actions
will never displease you.

I have chosen a dangerous path

but I tread it with joy,
to be worthy of you.

It's a path...

...that only the fondest,
most admiring wife could follow.

Guide me. Pity me.

Keep loving me, if you can.

You should take pity on me.

I deserve it.

Forgive me.
My pain is so great

that I cannot respond as I should.

You are the best
and worthiest woman on earth,

and I, the unhappiest man.

Iloved you
from the moment I saw you.

I see I've failed to earn your love,

while another may have succeeded.

Who has won the heart
which has been denied me?

Please!

I took comfort from the thought

that it was impregnable.

I feel doubly jealous,
as husband and lover,

although as a husband,
I must desist.

I cherish your openness
and trust in me.

Your confession won't abate my love.

But your act of consummate loyalty
grieves me.

Who is this man you must avoid?

Please, don't force me.

I'm determined not to name him.

Wisdom advises me against it.

Have no fear.
Tell me, I beg you.

Please don't insist.

I'm strong enough to hold my tongue.

1 didn't confess to you
out of weakness.

It took more courage
to admit to the truth

than to try to hide it.

I can't believe you.

You were so troubled
as I searched in vain for that photo.

Did you give it away?

Iloved it so much.
No one had more right to it than .

Can this be?

You think my confession was a ruse?

I confessed on my own free will.

1 didn't give him that picture.

I saw him take it.
1 didn't let him see me,

in case he came out with words
that no one dared tell me before.

That he loved you?

How else has he shown it?

Spare me from mentioning things
I'm ashamed to have noticed

and which only confirmed my weakness.

You're right. I'm being unfair.

Don't answer my questions.

But don't begrudge my asking them...

Sorry to intrude,
but I have no choice.

The train is leaving.
It's my last chance.

I can see you're good people.

You'll listen to a poor guy like me.

I came here hoping to find a job.

Madame, my life is pure agony.

I'm starving and penniless.

I want to go home.
There's no hope for me here.

There's no work
and nowhere to sleep.

I want to go home
but I can't afford the ticket.

I'll have food there,
and a place to sleep.

Someone will give me a job.

Please...
I'm just 100 francs short.

With 100 francs,
I can catch the train.

Pity me. I'm at rock bottom.

I'm dead-tired.
I have no one to turn to.

Thank you.

God bless you!

Poor boy.
So young and so wretched.

Life is so unfair.

True. Unfair and cruel.

But he chose to get into drugs.

No, he's a victim.

Poor boy.

Yes, a victim.

"Abrunhosa's commitments allowed him
to stay abroad for some time.

"On hearing he was back in Paris,

"Mrs. de Cléves went to London,

"but returned
at her husband's request.

"She again confided in her friend.”

No, on the contrary.

You were right
to tell him the truth.

He truly loves you.

The greatest proof of his love

is the understanding he shows.
It's so rare now.

He does love me,

but I don't deserve it.

He's become so dejected,

so utterly listless.

He's never violent or aggressive...

1 wish he were!

I'd feel better.

He's racked with jealousy.

I feel it so strongly that...

I feel guilty
for what has befallen us.

If fate willed it thus,
you mustn't feel guilty.

You've sacrificed
as much as he.

You've been loyal.
You've stayed true.

In today's world,

such behaviour is highly exceptional.

Others would cheat on their husbands

or leave them for their lovers.

Your husband
is also an exception.

Especially his self-denial.
He bears it stoically,

but his pain is none the less.

I'm his companion in suffering.

My affection and tenderness for him
are heartfelt,

but I know they're insufficient,
even useless.

It hurts me so
to see him waste away,

depressed and sick.

I feel so helpless.

He's suffering,

I'm suffering,

the man I love is suffering too.

These three pains
are locked in my heart.

Behind your suffering

is another love,

a much greater love,
that always stays with you

and is always among us.

That's true for you.
It is your calling.

My fate is to follow another path...

To renounce love...

To suffer.

"The De Cléves
moved to the country house

"which her mother had left her.

"They hoped his health would recover.

"But neither the country air

"nor his wife's munificent care

"improved his condition.”

I should have kept my secret.

Though innocent, it injured you.

Could you have left me blind,

happily deluded like most husbands?

No, my love.

You've made me glad to die.

And once you're free,

Abrunhosa's joy
will have cost you no crime.

A crime? That's unfair.

I've done nothing behind your back.

I can govern my actions
but not my heart.

Each new proof of your great value
comforts me.

Now that I'm dying,

tell me you'll cherish my memory.

No one in my life,

not even my mother,
has meant more to me than you.

"The doctor found him moribund.

"He died a few days later.

"Mrs. de Cléves felt such agony,
she almost lost her mind.

"When Mrs. da Silva called on her,

"she asked her to escort her
to her friend's convent.”

I'll leave you together.

I have some errands to do.

Comfort her.

Above all,
assuage her sense of guilt.

Only you can do that.

Be brave.

You must accept this death.

1 feel so guilty.

You lived up to his love
in every way.

You were always
extremely affectionate

and faithful to him.

We cannot force our hearts to love.

You did your utmost.

Your fondness for your husband
could not have been greater.

Now you're left with the pain
of losing a loving husband.

Very loving.

Because he loved you so,

your pain is all the greater.

He died craving a love
I couldn't give.

Gnawed by jealousy.

Don't think that.

You must yield.

Accept God's higher purposes.

Yes.

"Abrunhosa moved across the street
from Mrs. de Cléves

"in the hope of meeting her.

"She retired to the country
for awhile.

"Once she had overcome her pain,

"she returned, grieving, to Paris.

"Instinct drove her back
to the scene of her confession.”

I fled but he saw me.

I'ran home and hid behind the window.

But why flee?

- I'm afraid.
- Of what?

He'll see me. Talk to me.

I must escape, but where to?

He lives across the street!

He hounds me,
whether he's there or not.

Worse still,
he's always in my mind.

Forgive me for saying so,
but you're acting like a child.

- I cannot fathom you.
- Why?

You're complicating
something simple.

- Simple?
- Yes.

You love him, don't you?

This feeling between you
is a tremendous passion.

Why don't you marry him?

You're both free.

You know why I can't.

Your husband's memory?

Why make such a sacrifice?

He wouldn't have wished it.

Your happiness is at stake

and that of the man who loves you.

Your scruples are groundless.

You're a young woman,
making a pointless sacrifice.

You're free now.

Think of your life.

Your happiness.

Why must you be so stubborn?

Aren't you going to say anything?

I have other reasons.

I can't see any.

I bared myself twice before...

...and lost.

I can't risk it again.
Not now.

Why not?

I'm afraid.

Of a pain that could be even greater.

Perhaps even fatal.

- Fatal?
- Fatal.

I suspect that for an adulated singer

the thrill of love
would wear off after marriage.

Nothing could be harsher for me

than if he were to break the spell
of impossible love.

The blow would kill me.

Especially after Louis's death.

It was a warning to me.

Is that the only reason?

It might not happen like that.

My heart says it will.

So what will you do?

Listen...

I'll come here often
and unburden my sorrows.

Whenever you like.

My happiest memories
are of childhood.

They will give me the strength
to live alone.

So love, for you,
is no more than a magic spell.

A spell that has come to cruel life.

That could change.

Dearest...

Your life is empty.

You flee this man's love.
It's nonsensical.

You may as well take the veil.

It would be good if I could.

But! haven't the calling.

You're right.

To become a nun,
the calling is imperative.

Don't worry about my future.

Ill live partly in the country

and partly in Paris.

In the country when he's away,

and in Paris when he's not there.

You know English and German.

You're educated.

You can find a vocation.

Yes. Before I was married,

I helped at the Foundation
with Mrs. da Silva.

But in my present state,

I couldn't concentrate on any task.

I'll live on my own.

I can afford to. Later, we'll see.

"On his return,
Abrunhosa asked after Mrs. de Cléves,

"but she had disappeared.

"No more was known about her.
He went to Mrs. da Silva."

I've looked everywhere.

She wasn't at her country house.

They couldn't tell me anything.

As for her place in Paris...

I've heard it's for sale.

So I've come to you,

hoping you know where she is.

I know as little as anyone.

This is all news to me.

If she'd left France,
she'd have told me.

At least to say...

...goodbye.

I don't know who could tell us more.

Perhaps her friend, the nun.

Her childhood friend.

She might know something.

If you could speak to her,
I'd be so grateful.

Of course.

I am worried too.

This is all very strange.

I haven't seen her either.

She sometimes writes, but not lately.

The last time I got a letter from her
was ages ago.

What can have happened?

As you know,
I was close to her mother.

I know,
you were very close friends.

Mrs. de Cléves
has often mentioned you.

I rarely met Mrs. de Chartres,

but she always spoke
very fondly of you.

I'm very worried. It's why I'm here.

As I'm sure you know,

a fairly well-known singer,
Pedro Abrunhosa,

is deeply enamoured
of Mrs. de Cléves.

She rejects him.

1 think the memory of Mr. de Cléves
plays a part.

I'm not sure
how far it explains her absence.

Have you searched the hospitals?

She may have had an accident.

Pedro Abrunhosa
has spared no effort.

He's checked everywhere possible.

In vain. We're at our wits' end.

How strange.

She's in the dark too.

I could tell she was worried.

How can this be?

Could she be running away from me?

I wish it were that.

You fear something worse?

I don't know.
But something's amiss.

What?

Well, one can only theorize.

I honestly don't understand.

She's free.

Now that she's free,
why would she run?

She's very strange.

She's always been different.

There must be hidden reasons.

Hidden reasons? What reasons?

In her case, anything's conceivable.

The truth is,
we can't see into her heart.

Very mysterious...

"Some time later, the nun
received a letter from Africa.”

"I am writing only to you.

"Please don't tell anyone where I am
or about this letter.

" Want nobody to know,

"and least of all, you know who.

"It happened very fast.

*I met them
just before they boarded ship.

"We didn't speak much,

"but enough to fill
me with the urge to go with them.

"I saw a door opening
in my tormented life.

"I ran to pack my bags.

“No time to say good-bye to you.

"During the voyage,

" pondered what they had told me

"about the other missions
where they'd worked.

"I'm surprised
by how young these nuns are.

"We are somewhere in Africa,

"deep in the wilds,

"with hundreds of refugees,
camped here by a small waterhole

"that barely slakes their thirst.

"They are mostly children.

"It is they who suffer the worst

"from the civil wars that fester here.

"The nuns came to spread the gospel
but they say:

"How can we preach
to these small children

"who are starving and sick?

"Our first duty is to bring them
food and medicine.

"Day after day,
we live in profound despair.

"We lack everything.

"The nuns have appealed
for aid everywhere

"because of epidemics.

"We're far away.
Everything's very slow.

"I help them with their labours.

"It is terribly hard,

"but these suffering people
leave us no choice.

"We're not brave enough
to desert them.

"The mothers are in agony.

"They have no milk
to feed their babies.

"The bare-boned children gaze at us
with prayers in their eyes.

"The old, famished and listless,
await their death.”

My God!

"One has to wonder
how can such things happen.

"Does the blind greed of the men,
who invent their wars,

"close their eyes to everything
but their own lust for power.

"How can they ignore the innocent
victims they leave behind!

“I'm enclosing some photos
to give you a glimpse of what's here.

"Just a glimpse,

"because the grim reality
of our everyday lives

"escapes photography.

"Look how withered
the nun's faces are!

"Ignored by the world,

"they devote themselves
heart and soul,

"unstintingly, defying the diseases
that decimate these people.

"All that, and yet

"see how they go on smiling!

"It's one thing to read,
there in Paris,

"about these poor people's
dire distress.

"It's another to share it, here,

"as these nun's piously do.

"Self-effacingly,

"they are trapped
in this woeful tragedy

"where people die each day.

"I am hounded,

"I'm not sure why or how,

"by a vague sense of guilt.

"Yes, guilt.

"Guilt and fear.

*I am selling my place in Paris.

"In the future,
Ill live in the country.

"How I miss living there
with my mother!

"After what I've seen here,
I'll never be the same.

"Whatever it was
that steeled me to come

"and stay here this long,

"my conscience's demands
have worn me out.

"My eyes are sated with suffering.

"My one wish...

"... is to escape.

"What stops me

"is the sight of these nuns
giving of themselves,

"unflaggingly,

"with the same strength every day.

"It makes me wonder

"where such strength comes from.

I can't leave
before singing you a song.

I know it will mean a lot
to many of you.

Unfortunately,
because it's about love

but also about death.

And we have to deal with all that.

I want you to help me
to exorcise this song inside me.

Do I have any more

Time to be with you

Or have you fallen already

To an enemy's bullets?

Have I managed to give you

All you wanted

Qr have I slowly died

In the slowly dying years?

Have I done all I could

Qr have I been a coward

Who shied away from pain?

Is the far away sky

Still blue

Or is it black with ashes

Mixing up north and south?

Is your skin still soft

Or are my hands trembling

Without ardour or magic?

Can I still be your servant

Or does the night uncover

What hides behind pleasure?

Is this fire my fever,

This cruel cry

That turns the hare into a wolf?

Does tomorrow still exist for you

Or, by gazing in your eyes,

Have I Kissed you to die?

In the world outside

Do cars still pass by

Or are the stars falling

And is every fate welcome?

Is the city

Still as it was

Or are the ghosts singing

And the giants dancing?

Does the sun still set

Behind the sea

Or is the light that restrains me

The shadow of moonlight?

Are the houses singing

And the stones underfoot

Or has the mountain fallen silent

And lulled the volcano?

Do you know today is Sunday

Or have the days stopped passing

And have the angels fallen?

Can you still hear me

Or do you ask for time

When you try to smile?

Do you know

You're in my voice,

Your world is mine

And was made by the two of us?

Do you remember

The colour in your eyes

When we're together
And the night has no wish to end?

Can you feel

This hand that grasps you

And keeps you here as strongly

As the sea against the helm?

Will you still know how to listen

When I tell you that I love you
As much as on any other day?

I know you will always exist for me

There's no night without day,

No day without end

I know that you want me,

You love me too,

You desire me now

More than anyone, ever

So don't go away,

Don't leave me alone

1 will kiss your footsteps

And weep on your path

Do you...

Translation
Andrew Litvack / Nigel Palmer

Subtitling
Silvia Santos / CRISTBET, Lda.