Original subtitles

Second part

Father. Father!

If you only knew how anxiously and impatiently I've been waiting for you!

I was uncertain about writing to the Countess...

With what intention?

With the intention of spending a few hours

to help an old monk.

But I've gone on and on and you must be dying of hunger and thirst

after such a journey, Father!

Come. Come.

The monk in charge has left us the pick of his chicken coop.

As a special treat!

The capon is divine, you'll see...

Baked, with baby potatoes.

And the monastery wine?

Renowned! You'll see.

I'm not that much of an eater and drinker.

I was. But I'm afraid I've lost the habit and the taste.

Bad! That's bad.

They're the blessings of the Lord

It's our duty to honor them.

We, more than anyone else, as His true servants...

But in the present case,

I must confess that my references to the menu

are a secondary issue.

What do you mean?

I have a long story to tell you

My story.

I've never told it to anyone.

During my long tale you will surely ask yourself

why I am telling you these things.

You will understand, once and for all, why.

Accept that I'll keep you quiet for now.

I was born in Minho.

My father was from a noble family, older than the kings of this land...

I was born with bad instincts and was freely educated.

They issued me carte blanche to freely dispose of the gold

with which I prodigiously indulged my immoralities.

All of this ended

when I saw the Countess of Viso for the first time

It was my cousin, Paulo, my best and most loyal friend,

almost like a brother,

who took me one night to a gala held by the Count,

her husband...

The baroness would have bitten you if she could have...

What did you do to her?

I couldn't take it any longer.

I broke it off with her.

She wouldn't give in.

Tears, screams, howls. Unbearable.

I wrote to her husband.

You wrote to him!? Saying what?

That I had been his wife's lover.

And the lie:

that I had broken it off because I found it hard to deceive him.

You wrote that to him?!

Literally.

And I stressed that the woman would not let me go,

and that it was now up to him, the husband, to take her in hand.

No! What did he do?

I don't know, but she left me in peace.

Alvaro, you are truly unique!

No, Paulo, I'm not.

I'm bored with myself.

Bored, but why?

I'm twenty-three years old, Paulo. Twenty-three!

And in twenty-three years I've never known the thrill of a noble passion.

Noble passion!

That doesn't even sound like you, cousin.

With all the women that you...

With all the women I've thrown into dishonor.

No, that you threw or they threw themselves.

Don't tell me you're feeling remorse. Is that it?

No, it's not that...

Not one of them weighs on my conscience.

What weighs on me is that not one of them inspired true affection in me.

Be careful, the Count is a jealous man...

And a man of arms!

And the Countess has everything that can cause a man to lose himself.

Yes, an almost pilgrim-like beauty, and they say she has a rich spirit.

For the love of such a woman, I could become my friend's assassin...

If the condition of my power were such.

What a look!

A look that says: retreat, you wretched man!

It's not just the Countess who is looking at you...

Didn't I tell you he was jealous?

Count.

They tell me that we share feelings for the same person,

Don Alvaro de Albuquerque.

It isn't always appropriate to put faith in what people say, Count.

How so?

Was it not your father who died

in the dungeons of the Castle of S. Joao da Foz, near here?

Just some ten years ago?

It was eleven, Count. Eleven years ago.

Eleven years ago.

So they hadn't misinformed me then.

Not by the look of things.

If you'll excuse me...

But, in fact, I'm sorry, Count.

To whom does this sentiment that we share refer?

- Did you perchance know my father? - No. Unfortunately.

I did not have that honor.

I was referring to the man responsible for his death.

The Count of Oeiras?

Was it not the torture of this butcher of a man

that led to you losing your father?

It was also thanks to his intrigues with His Majesty

that I was removed from the Palace.

I shall never forgive him.

Nor shall I, believe me.

I've waited eleven years for this happy moment

where I can alleviate my rancor with the spilled blood

of the Marquis of Pombal.

Holy words, my friend, Holy words!

Friends throughout life and throughout death!

This house is yours.

I will take full pleasure in keeping my door open to you,

both by day and by night!

Music, Music.

The friendship of the Count in no way altered the iciness of the Countess.

Her indifference, silent and impassable, was like a sarcastic jab at my vanity...

She was my first passion;

and I fed it with generous tears.

Alvaro...

That was my name back then,

but let's not get ahead of ourselves.

I will tell you everything at the appropriate time.

Until that evening I had never met the Countess face to face.

What happened? Who is going to travel?

The Count, sir. His Majesty died yesterday

Don Alvaro.

I was going to send someone to advise you.

We are going to have to move our little game.

Don José is dead.

Her Highness, Dona Maria called me to the Palace

to attend the tribute and has named me a Knight of the Royal Chamber!

Good, which means that the Marquis...

now has his days numbered.

Her Highness loathes him more than the two of us together, man!

Where are you going in such a hurry?

I'm going to get a Port wine I've had in the house for fifteen years,

that's been waiting for this very occasion!

There is plenty of time for that, man.

First, I wanted to ask you a favor. From one friend to another...

Tell me, only if I'm unable to...

You're able. Just willing to is enough.

I would like you to give two words of consolation to the Countess...

But isn't the Countess going with you?

What a thought, Don Alvaro!

You know that women, in these political matters, are an obstacle.

The Countess sat down, and she was offended. Well, you know...

Who better than my friend to explain it to her?

It's just that I don't have the time. Nor the talent.

I am a man of arms, not words,

I have no knack whatsoever for speeches.

Well, but will the Countess listen to me?

She hears just fine so why wouldn't she listen?

Women melt with beautiful words.

Thank you, my friend.

And don't let the Countess embarrass herself any further.

Strike the iron while it's hot.

I'm dying to see the face of the Marquis

being run out of the Palace with a swift foot to the seat of his pants!

Well they're wrong!

The Count is wrong, and so is his lawyer.

It's not about vanity.

Nor about wounded self-esteem.

What hurts me is the lack of consideration.

It's being treated like a...

like a ridiculous obstacle.

I'm delighted you find me amusing, Don Álvaro.

Especially when I'm not trying to be funny.

I am afraid you have mistaken me, Countess.

I am not the Count's lawyer,

nor does my smile carry the intention you have attributed it

It was the word "obstacle" that made me smile.

It was the same word the Count used just now.

He referred to me as an obstacle?

No, not personally.

He spoke of women in general.

You know the Count carries his heart in his mouth. He is a soldier.

He has the rude frankness of a soldier. He has no style. No pretense.

Is that the case?

But the truth is, either in general or in particular,

you think my role is not by his side in the Palace,

but here as your servant in this place of exile!

You certainly think like he does.

No. Not in any way.

I don't think your place is here.

And even less as a servant.

Why?

You hardly know me.

I know you well enough, Silvina,

To guess, to see beyond appearances,

all your desires and anxieties.

The countess could tell...

stifled dreams...

She knew only too well... that I adored her.

She would fight against her heart, denying its impulses...

But she was weak.

Am I really so transparent?

As weak as every woman who fights two powerful enemies:

the indifference of her husband...

and the most loving warmth of desire.

She gave in to it.

They all give in in the end, Father Dinis, when the lover's patience takes

advantage of the husband's impatience.

God in heaven! It's daytime!

Alvaro! Alvaro!

For the love of God, wake up! It's already daytime!

Alvaro! Alvaro!

Such a shame.

You're going to have to hide me here until night time.

That's impossible!

They're bound to want to clean up...

Oh my God! Someone is coming!

Yes, what is it?

Forgive me, Countess, a letter has arrived from the Count. It is urgent.

Do you not feel well, Countess?

No, I slept poorly. Don't interrupt me again unless I call.

Alvaro! Please... please.

He wants you to go to him.

Right now. Today. "Come at once".

Why this hurry?

He doesn't say...

But like this, suddenly, after three months...

He knows.

Impossible. We were so careful.

How could he know?

He knows.

Someone told him. Someone must have seen us.

No, Alvaro, you're right.

I can't go to be with him...

Better to die. Better to kill myself!

No!

Better to live!

The two of us. Far away from here. In France or Italy. It doesn't matter.

But the two of us. Together.

Run away?!

With what? How?

When?

I'll sell everything I own here.

Two days are all I need.

Two days from now we'll be in Spain.

Three days later, we can be in Venice.

But the two of us! Free!

We crossed half of Europe as if in a dream.

To Spain, France, the north of Italy.

We only stopped in Venice.

We spent months of supreme happiness there.

But in the shadows, and with no signs as to excite curiosity in us,

we were without a country.

There wasn't a single hint that could give away our identity as outsiders.

Until the day Silvina told me she was carrying a child.

Quite soon, however, the event that should have crowned our happiness,

now threatened it's very existence.

How are you?

How is she?

How do you expect her to be?

I don't understand.

You knew the risk you were running...

Risk? What risk, doctor?

She didn't tell you?

What was she supposed to have told me?

She didn't tell you.

The physiological constitution of the lady...

The what? What does she have? What constitution?

The doctors had advised her...

They said nothing to you?

When she married, they warned her: childbirth could be fatal for her...

Fatal!?

Don't despair. Science sometimes works miracles.

Come with me, come see her.

Alvaro.

My God, I am going to die!

No. I won't leave Silvina!

Why didn't you tell me?

I didn't want to...

- You should have told me! - I didn't want to frighten you...

I thought, with time the doctors might...

Come on, be strong!

Now leave. Let us work.

Be strong!

I thought I would die, but I did not die.

I considered suicide.

I looked around me,

searching for a pistol, a dagger, an abyss...

Paradoxically, my religious beliefs were born in that very instant.

Without God, there are incurable wounds.

I had to convince myself I was struggling with God

to retract the blasphemies in my heart invented by my desperation.

I could not abandon Silvina's body in Venice.

I took it with me.

My cousin Paulo had been put in charge of Portugal's commerce in Rome.

He was my only hope.

Alvaro.

Such horrible news.

My poor friend.

Sit down.

Life, at times, is like that.

Cruel.

And quite unjust.

Cruel, without doubt.

Unjust, I don't know...

I speak for myself. I suffer what I caused to suffer. I pay.

But her, my God!

She is paying for me!

Because she certainly is not paying for herself.

Enough. You can't continue to torment yourself like this.

I'm sorry, Paulo.

It's you I'm tormenting now.

You're right.

Enough tears.

I've decided to retreat to a monastery.

You?

Not out of my love for religion!

Nor out of a thirst for humiliation.

Nor for the cilices, the fasting, the discipline...

No. It's my way of leaving life,

without resorting to the cowardly annihilation of my body.

To kill my body.

And to weather the storms of the soul.

Yes but, after all, you have a son...

Exactly.

That is why I came to see you.

So that you can take responsibility for his upbringing.

Me?!

Yes, you, Paulo.

You're the only friend I have left.

Alvaro.

You left him in Rome?

I never saw him again.

For how long?

Fifty-four years.

It isn't possible! Venice, Rome.

Fifty-four years!

My cousin Paulo died two years later.

He entrusted the child to a friend.

The Marquis of Luso.

Guillotined in France by the Jacobins.

I lost track of you there.

I didn't care if you were alive, or if you were dead.

I was picked up by Raymond de Montfort, a retainer of Louis XVI.

He took me to Angouleme and raised me like his own son.

What winding roads we had to travel, my son, for us to meet again.

How did you know?

I recognized you as soon as I saw you enter the antechamber

of the Count of Santa Barbara.

Why, I don't know. Don't ask me.

The way you carry yourself, perhaps.

Her look...

Silvina.

Your mother's look...

And her...

My mother?

Has accompanied me ever since. At every meal.

I give it to you, my son.

My time has come...

There was a tightly sealed door at Father Dinis's school,

and no one was allowed to open it...

You know perfectly well no one is allowed in here.

Forgive me, Father Dinis, I didn't know.

You knew! Keep quiet!

Save what you have to say for confession!

But as long as you're here, I'll explain it to you...

This was my uniform as a soldier of the Emperor.

This was the hat worn by "worldly man".

The gypsy, Sabino Cabra.

And here,

my mother's skull.

Now you know.

And don't forget:

Solidarity with all men.

This is my temple to sincerity.

That is all.

Father Dinis! Father Dinis!

I'm sorry.

And now, my friends, let's talk...

Father Dinis decided to send me to France for my studies.

On the night before my departure,

I went to see my mother, through the bars of the convent gate.

We both remained speechless.

We just kept looking at each other for the entire visit,

as if we already knew it might be the last time

we would ever see each other.

While I waited to board the ship that would take me to France,

I noticed a man who couldn't seem to take his eyes off me.

I could not have imagined the decisive role

he had played in my past,

let alone what role he was to play in my future.

In life, there are events and coincidences of such extravagance

that no novelist would ever dare to invent them...

It was one of those improbable events that led Alberto de Magalhaes

to marry Eugenia, the former lover of the Count of Santa Barbara...

Superb creature!

Careful, old man, her husband is as jealous as a tiger.

And, as ferocious as two.

Speak of the devil...

But I know him.

Who? Alberto de Magalhaes?

That's what he calls himself around here?

In Paris, his name was Leopoldo Saavedra

and in Brussels, Tobias Navarro!

Are you serious? When?

About three or four years ago.

Look, they're leaving. It appears they didn't like the performance.

They didn't even stay for the second act.

No, my friend, the performance had nothing to do with it...

It appears our dear Alberto de Magalhaes has seen a ghost.

Magnificent, yes indeed! Who is she?

Elisa de Montfort. The Duchess of Cliton.

Cliton, a French woman...

As French as one can be.

Is she the ghost?

In flesh and blood.

Our friend must have had a fit when he saw her here.

Why, is there something between them?

In Paris it was said they had been lovers...

It seems the man behaved like a genuine savage...

There was talk of tarnished reputations and insults.

Shadowy stories about money. There may have been bloodshed.

A duel of honor... with one of her relatives.

What is certain is that our Leopoldo Saavedra vanished rather suddenly,

and then in Brussels he was already known as Tobias Navarro.

The lady Duchess is also leaving.

Dear Baron de Sá, what is your secret?

There isn't a beautiful woman who escapes you.

Where did you meet that goddess there whom you just approached?

To be honest, it was she who approached me!

And she's not the first, in any case...

She says we met in Paris!

Although I honestly don't remember...

My time there was spent with so many pretty women!

She approached you, nevertheless, and in what context?

I don't mean to be indiscreet!

She implored me to go and visit her at the Isidro!

She has been lodging there.

Her request came under the pretext of exchanging old memories...

"Souvenir, souvenir..."

But to me, something doesn't fit! There's a mystery there.

Court, Royal Family, Versailles...

Yet she wants to be known as Madame Cliton,

like an ordinary "bourgeoisie".

I must hurry! It would be a sin to miss the duet. We'll talk later.

I'm thinking of taking all the artists here

away from the Sao Carlos Theatre.

Brazil must see these productions.

The second act is even better.

Yes, but unfortunately I won't be able to stay.

Did you say the entire cast?

Yes, the chorus as well, everyone.

That's a lot of people!

Brazil deserves it..

That woman is looking at you.

She has been following us this whole time.

I had already noticed.

I knew her some time ago, but I don't remember anymore.

Shall we go?

Shall we escape?

- Good evening. - Good evening.

Good evening.

A thousand pardons...

- I was told downstairs to come up. - That was the order I gave.

I couldn't wait to see you.

I didn't come earlier,

because I feared I would be bothering you.

I've been stifling my own impatience since last night.

You exaggerate, I'm sure. But I am flattered.

I thank you so much for having come.

It brings me such happiness to meet a familiar face

in a town where really I know no one at all.

It would be an honor to be your guide.

Please think of me as your servant.

I certainly intend to.

But it is I who shall be honored

to have as my guide a man of your quality.

A very modest quality

compared to the charm and elegance of Your Excellency...

It is my tea time.

I am counting on you to keep me company...

I assure you, Madame, in Portugal there is little conversation..

We are missing the words that most captivate the ears.

Especially the Portuguese ladies.

In no way can one compare them to French woman.

They lack the spirit, the spice, the champagne!

I love the French!

The fortunate Parisian!

With this ardor you must have had enormous success there.

If you permit me, Madame,

I can tell you without vanity that

I have taken fortresses that would have made others desist.

I am most convinced.

I'm convinced just by watching and hearing you.

But permit me to question you, in return,

whether all the Portuguese are as you say...

For example, the lady with whom I saw you chatting yesterday

at the opera...

Ah, yes: Eugenia de Magalhaes.

Eugenia. Pretty name...

And his name?

His name?

His name...

Ah! Alberto. Alberto de Magalhaes.

Alberto.

Eugenia and Alberto.

They're married, of course...

Of course...

For long?

About a year now.

I'd like to meet him.

The couple?

No. Just him.

Alberto de Magalhaes?!

Do you find that impossible?

For a man such as myself, Madame, nothing is impossible.

But you find it "inconvenient".

For someone like Your Excellency,

"inconvenience" does not exist.

But your interest, let us say, in this man...

How shall I put it?

Well, it intrigues me. That's all!

Interest?!

Let's not exaggerate.

What is of interest are my devotions to Your Excellency.

For him, I have merely curiosity.

If it is simply to satisfy curiosity, I will take you to him tomorrow.

I would prefer that you send him to me alone.

I don't like to mix intimate friends with vulgar acquaintances...

Your wishes are my commands.

Forgive me, I had to leave for a minute. But I'm counting on your support.

You delight me, Madame.

You delight me.

- You delight me. - I understood!

Money is in the high seas!

Hello, Alberto!

I'm sorry to bother you, just a few seconds.

Of course, Baron.

Make yourself comfortable, have a seat.

I won't be long. I can't be late. They're waiting for me on the corner.

Here it is! Someone implored me to deliver a message...

An invitation, actually.

A friend of mine, a close friend, very close.

A lady from high society... French.

An acquaintance from Paris. Madame Cliton.

The Duchess?

Do you know her?

The Duchess? Yes, of course... Yes, the Duchess!

Intimately! I know her intimately!

But don't tell me, you also know her?

I've heard her name spoken.

I see, of course...

Well, I spoke to her about you.

I piqued her curiosity, I think.

In summary, she would like to meet you.

Simple curiosity. No bad intentions.

You know the French: free, direct, unprejudiced.

So there, she's at the Isidro. She receives visits from five until seven.

Mister Magalhaes has arrived.

You may come in.

You wanted to see me? Here I am.

What do you want of me.

To pay you what I owe you.

Nothing.

You owe me nothing.

Nor do I owe you anything.

We have both respected the terms of our transaction.

The balance has been paid in full.

No. The balance is right there.

It has burned my fingers and my soul for years.

Take it. It's yours.

Is that all?

Does she know?

Who?

Eugenia. That is her name, isn't it?

I see that fool of a Baron has spoken of her to you as well.

But no, she doesn't know. And I don't want her to know.

Watch yourself, if she learns of any of this!

There are chasms in my life I don't want her dangling over.

Feelings you couldn't possibly understand.

Get going, Elisa. Return to France.

It's useless to try and see me again.

Forget me, as I have forgotten you.

The past doesn't rewrite itself, and the dead never rise again.

You're not going to have me eat lunch all alone?

What kind of Christian charity is that?

Nothing would give me more pleasure, my child.

Unfortunately, the Countess of Santa Barbara

is waiting for me in the Convent of Odivelas.

I'm the only visitor she has left, since her son left for France.

There is a foreign lady downstairs. She's asking for you.

Foreign? Did she give her name?

If she did, I didn't understand, my lady.

She speaks in her own manner.

But I did understand that she's a friend of Sir Alberto.

A friend?

Send her up.

Yes, Madame, excuse me.

How amusing...

She's the first acquaintance I've met of Alberto's...

apart from you, of course, Father.

Well, I'll be going...

At least I leave you with company.

Sit down, please.

He's funny, your butler.

Poor man, he's ill. Alberto took him under his wing.

He's like a son to him.

I hope you'll forgive this intrusion by a stranger...

Not a complete stranger...

You know who I am?!

No. But I have seen you before.

Of course, the day before yesterday. At the opera.

I thought you hadn't even noticed me...

It is impossible not to notice you.

Should I take that as a compliment?

Take it as you wish, Madame...

But I beg your pardon: I didn't catch your name...

Elisa de Montfort.

And you are a friend of Alberto's...

How strange! He has never spoken about you to me!

You haven't any reason to worry,

our dealings are strictly commercial.

I am not worried, Madame de Montfort. I have complete faith in my husband.

I don't doubt it. He's very good at winning the confidence of women...

You still haven't told me the purpose of your visit.

I have come to pay a debt.

A debt? To me?

To your husband.

I assume you don't live together

under the terms of separation of property.

I prefer that you settle your accounts with him directly.

I am not used to meddling in his affairs.

If I've understood correctly, he is away.

Anyway, I was curious to see, up close,

the woman who made Alberto lay down is guard.

I have no regrets.

Your beauty adds further justice to his great reputation in Europe.

Unfortunately for you, it is not his only reputation...

But it won't take you long to discover that for yourself.

If you haven't already...

From now on you may count on my compassion.

Goodbye, Madame.

Madame! Your purse!

Take it, if you please. I cannot accept it.

You are well obliged to.

Unless you attach it

by force around my neck...

Come in, Duchess, come in.

Do not fear me.

I wish you no ill will.

I am here on behalf of Blanche de Montfort.

My mother...

My friend. Sit down, my girl.

You knew her? You knew my mother?

I was quite close to her. She died in my arms.

But I recognize you! I saw you this morning!

I saw you at that man's house...

Alberto de Magalhaes... Or Leopoldo Saavedra, if you prefer...

You know about all that?

I know almost everything, Duchess. I know too much.

I would have preferred not to know so much...

But who are you?

Call me Father Dinis, young lady.

I've had other names, just like Alberto de Magalhaes.

I've been other men. But they are all dead.

They died at the same time as those whom they held most dear...

Like your mother. Like Blanche de Montfort.

I beg your pardon, just one moment...

I'm not well... I'm feeling dizzy...

It will pass. Just give me a moment... I shall return immediately.

But what did she say to you? What did she tell you?

Nothing! Apart from what I've told you, nothing!

She referred only to the debt. She never said what, or why.

She made insinuations.

I really don't know what she meant at all...

But the worst was her bitterness!

The hatred I sensed in her voice! Toward you, and toward me!

A certain desire to do us harm!

It's my fault. I should have told you everything.

I should have told you.

No! I don't want to know! I don't want to know anything!

Don't tell me anything, I'm not interested!

It has nothing to do with us. It's not a part of our life.

If you tell me, it's as if it mattered,

or that it will matter.

Don't tell me anything.

Otherwise, she wins.

My fear is that she will hurt you.

No, stop! Don't be afraid.

She can't do anything to me.

And if she did something to you...

I would kill her.

I would kill her!

I was born in Venice.

My parents had taken refuge there

to escape the scorn of a wronged husband.

But their escape was not enough to avoid God's punishment...

Two years later, before his death,

Don Paulo entrusted me, in turn, to the Marquis of Luso,

who took me to France,

where he was appointed for a diplomatic mission in the town of Caen.

It is there that we were surprised by the taking of the Bastille,

and the bloodshed that followed...

His relationship with a citizen of Caen, Charlotte Corday,

and the revolutionary fervor she incited within him,

led the Marquis straight to the gallows.

I was finally taken into the care of an old friend of the Marquis de Luso.

Your grandfather, Madame Duchess, Raymond de Montfort...

Whom I never knew...

He welcomed me like a son.

And your father, Benoit de Montfort,

like a brother...

Benoit and I grew up together.

We discovered together, little by little,

the mysteries of Nature.

We both fell in love the same day with the same young lady:

Blanche de Clermont. A descendant of kings,

she was the most modest and most beautiful of all...

My mother, Blanche de Montfort... I never knew her, either.

She was the most beautiful and the most modest...

To us, she was an angel, who had fallen to earth,

among men who could not speak the language of Heaven...

Both of us had stolen a scarf from her, secretly, without the other knowing.

They accompanied us, close against our hearts,

through every campaign we led together under the Emperor's command.

Montebello, Malta, Alexandria, Aboukir...

Up to Portugal, as far as Buçaco, with Masséna...

There, we both saved a man's life together...

A man who would eventually be the ruin of Benoit and Blanche:

Colonel Ernest Lacroze.

Hoist the flag, in front!

Halt!

To the left, turn!

To the rear! March!

Halt!

To the left, turn!

Prepare arms!

Aim!

Fire!

Ready,

Aim!

Long live the Emperor!

Colonel Ernest Lacroze, of the Imperial Guard.

Five minutes more and our heads would have been placed on a stake.

I owe you my life, gentlemen and I will never forget it...

Nurse, quickly! Come quickly, Nurse!

He lay between life and death.

During the entire time our troops were retreating from Portugal,

after the defeats of Buçaco and Torres Vedras...

Benoit de Montfort spent every free moment he had by his side...

to the point of making me jealous...

He ended up convincing him to come with us to the castle

during his recovery.

Thus building with his own hands, the tragedy which was soon to come...

Benoit, come look!

You look like the spy we caught behind the lines, in Aboukir.

With the same assassin's gaze!

Your guest has a curious way of repaying your hospitality...

He spends his days with Blanche!

Soon, he'll be spending his nights with her, too...

What a thought! That's absurd! He does it out of kindness.

Out of gratitude, really.

How naive, Benoit!

What a ridiculous thought!

Wake up, in the name of God!

Open your eyes, you idiot, open your eyes!

Idiot.

Where did Benoit go?

I think he's in there.

Were you jealous, Father?

I was by far the more jealous of the two of us.

My Lusitanian blood, no doubt...

But it didn't take long for Benoit to surpass my jealousy.

It's true I never missed an opportunity to draw his attention

to Blanche and Ernest's behavior.

I don't see Mademoiselle Blanche...

I wouldn't want to go without bidding her farewell. Did you warn her?

I told her you were leaving, yes.

But she feared she might not be able to come.

Some story about dresses ordered in Angouleme...

Women!

She should have left this morning with her father.

But all of this is unimportant: I will convey your respects to her.

A shame.

In fact, I scribbled a small note

just in case I didn't see her.

To thank her for the kindness

of her hospitality and for her company.

Would you be so kind?

Of course, you can count on me.

Thank you, my friend. Thank you for everything.

I will not forget Buçaco. And I will always remember Montfort.

Little by little, Benoit's jealousy became obsessive.

Under the pretext of being helpful,

he kept trying to convince the Emperor to give Colonel Lacroze

the command of a garrison lost at the far end of Calabria.

Far from everything. And, most of all, from Blanche...

Careful, Jerome, don't set the castle on fire!

No danger, my commander.

Even the English, couldn't manage to burn it down.

It was made the old-fashioned way.

It won't catch fire.

Blanche...

The departure of Ernest Lacroze did not cause many consequences

to my relationship with Blanche de Clermont...

Come see

Only that from then on, instead of the colonel,

It was Benoit who monopolized her company...

There he is, spying on us.

You ought to kiss me,

just to make him burst with jealousy.

Come closer!

I don't want him to die.

And I don't want to kiss you.

I resigned myself, little by little, to the fact

that they would end up getting married.

And though that made me suffer,

it was more bearable than thinking she might marry someone else.

A foreigner.

Like Ernest Lacroze or worse!

You are tired, Father.

Would you like to rest?

No, my girl, it's not fatigue...

It's the pain of recalling that moment...

when Benoit de Montfort sold his soul in exchange for Blanche de Clermont...

It was on that day that everything changed.

It was then that he decided to sacrifice everything.

His friends, his honor, and with one sole purpose: to have Blanche.

Later, I learned that he had intercepted all the letters,

that colonel Lacroze had sent to Blanche.

Have you not heard more news of Colonel Lacroze?

No.

That's strange. Don't you think?

What's strange about it?

Military life is like that, you know.

Made up of meetings and separations.

Today here, tomorrow over there.

From battle to battle, garrison to garrison, country to country...

For them it's best not to become attached to anything.

That was not how I saw him. Quite the contrary.

He left me the memory of a man faithful in friendship,

dedicated, sincere, attentive, and accountable...

Enough, that's sufficient, stop!

That is not a man, you describe. That is "Prince Charming"!

Instead, admit that he courted you.

That is to say,

he played the role he thought would be best to seduce you.

It's true: he courted me.

But he wasn't playing any role.

He was sincere.

I know he was sincere.

Sincere to the point of not seeing you before he left,

of leaving without a word of farewell?

Blanche,

did something happen between you?

I did not delude myself.

The Emperor had just given Benoit the title of Duke.

Something happened.

I was just an orphan.

Without a father, a mother, or even a country.

Blanche's father, Richard de Clermont,

kept harassing her for a decision.

And even the Emperor, they had said, wanted this marriage.

It's not hot today.

Benoît's obstinacy, her father's persistence,

and the will of the Emperor himself, toppled Blanche's resistance all together.

But the news of Lacroze's suicide had something to do with her decision.

In spite of that, your mother added a condition

that the ceremony would take place without any splendor. And in intimacy.

There was no banquet. Nor a honeymoon...

Blanche!

Come back! Blanche!

Blanche, where are you going?

I'm going to the hunting lodge.

I need to be alone.

Blanche!

Poor wedding.

Poor mother.

My poor family.

With these origins, it's not surprising

that my whole life has been branded by the iron of evil.

That iron is the fate of everyone, my girl.

Perhaps, Father.

But then, it's the distribution that is not done fairly.

Did you see her very much, after the wedding?

Did you speak with her?

Unfortunately, no.

I left the castle of Montfort that same day.

There was nothing that kept me there any longer.

Benoit was no longer the same and old Raymond was almost senile.

I was overtaken by the desire to return to Portugal,

to strengthen my bond with the country of my ancestors,

which I had until now, only glimpsed.

But I was in no hurry.

I used the occasion to get to know France better.

And to sell off the few possessions I owned here and there...

The months went by.

I found myself in Bordeaux,

when I received news that Blanche had just given birth to twins.

You, Madame Duchess, and your brother, Arthur.

I couldn't resist the temptation to return.

Good old Sebastiao!

I knew you'd come back.

They all end up coming back sooner or later.

She will as well, you'll see.

Your room is just as you had left it. Get yourself settled in.

But it's best if you take your bag up yourself.

We are lacking staff at the moment...

Oh!

Old Raymond has passed away.

In his sleep. He didn't suffer.

I inherited his armchair.

It's quite practical. You'll have to try it.

And Blanche?

And the children?

Madame de Montfort makes her home apart from mine.

She's with the children.

When she got pregnant, she moved into the hunting lodge.

It seems this whole business was too painful for her.

Well, that is what she says.

But I know the real reason...

It's there that they meet.

Who?

She meets with the living-dead. I saw him.

But whom? Whom did you see?

The brave colonel.

Lacroze?

The fearless suicide.

I saw him alive!

Where?

Right near here. I will show you tonight.

But sit down, sit down.

Tell me your stories...

Later.

Right now I'm going to see Blanche, and the children.

I'll be right back.

That's it, go ahead!

Go on, go and see them!

Sebastiao!

Come.

You can do me a big favor.

Take off my boots for me.

What?

My boots.

Good morning.

I am a friend of Madame de Montfort's...

Madame is not here. She has gone to see her father.

She will only be back tonight.

Is he one of the twins?

Oh, no, this one here, he's mine. The children are with Madame.

Thank you.

- Goodbye. - Goodbye.

Benoit! Benoit!

Madame? Where is she?

Sir! She is inside. I haven't seen her...

And the children?

The children stayed with Madame's father!

She died in my arms, she never regained consciousness.

She hadn't the slightest trace of burns on her entire body.

If you ever speak to my wife again. I'll smash you like a worm.

Knife-eater!

Remember Knife-eater, Alberto de Magalhaes!

Remember the assassin!

Brother...

All right, brother...

Thank you, brother.

You're welcome, brother.

I'm no brother to any little priest.

What was this miracle, Father?

Renounce your vengeance, Duchess.

It can only lead you into despair.

Go back to France.

Forgive and forget.

I will do what you want, Father Dinis.

I will go back to France tomorrow.

But, I do not forgive.

I do not forget. I do not renounce.

Upon my return to Lisbon,

I paid a visit to my neighbor, the Viscount of Armagnac,

in the hopes of distracting myself

from the obsession that had tormented me.

Unfortunately, I was introduced

to one of his young friends, Pedro da Silva,

a Portuguese gentleman who would re-immerse me, even further...

I thought you were still in Paris, my dear Viscount.

I arrived just two days ago, Duchess.

If you please.

I had intended to go and pay you my respects today even...

I shall receive you with pleasure.

Sit down.

Oh, no, I don't have time.

To make up for it, however, can I count on you for tea?

I shall not miss it.

Your friend will be welcome, of course.

Who is she?

Elisa de Montfort. Duchesse de Cliton. A neighbor.

She's lived as a recluse in Montfort for the past three years.

She practically never leaves the castle.

This is the first time I've seen her outdoors.

She doesn't visit anyone.

She doesn't receive a living soul.

And she dresses in black... A romantic?

I would say more melancholic than romantic...

Melancholic? Why?

The secrets of a proud and offended woman.

A fatal passion?

This is what they say... In her youth, she had been

one of the ornaments in Charles X's salons.

It was the King himself who wed her to the Duke of Cliton...

She is married?

Oh, not quite.

The duke soon left her a widow and in ruin.

They said that afterwards she found a mysterious man, a foreigner...

A shadowy story that ended with the death of her twin brother in a duel.

After which, she came here... Isolated. Alone.

Always sad.

Like a character in a novel by Radcliffe.

I can't wait to see her again.

Let's go then, my dear Pedro.

I wouldn't want you to die of impatience...

Thank you.

No, no, no! No!

Such rain!

To think that it was the blue sky that you had promised me.

Excuse me.

Excuse me...

I'll go see what is going on.

Excuse me...

I'm sorry.

I don't feel very well.

I'm going to have to leave you.

We must leave.

Let's go?

I'll explain later.

Don't deny it.

I'm sure she found me provincial, awkward, spiritless...

On the contrary, my dear Pedro.

I am convinced that you interest and intrigue her.

The looks she gave you

while you weren't looking... They don't deceive!

Come in.

She merely addressed a single word toward me.

Exactly. To provoke you.

There is nothing like the feigned indifference

of a woman to excite a man's desire.

I see your eyes in the warm twilight...

Shit...

I see... I see your eyes in the twilight warm

Shit...

For a week, it rained constantly.

And no news of the Duchess of Cliton, although I thought of her day and night...

Fallen into oblivion... No, No!

Policarpo, help me.

I saw your eyes in the cold twilight. It was in a sad and morbid castle.

At the top of a staircase,

one day when forgetfulness had taken everything away

except for your stern gaze...

But what a charming thing,

seeing your limpid eyes in the castle night.

Our livid bed, I am wounded by the menacing stare

of the sad and watchful pupils in your eyes?

I suddenly see the solitary figure of a lunar and yawning woman,

who rises, so dignified, from the waters.

I spent hours there, hoping to see her leave,

not knowing if I'd have the courage to approach her...

And without daring to knock on that door...

I finally couldn't resist,

I brought her the sonnet I had decided not to show her.

That's what youth is all about. Naivete and arrogance.

She returned it to me the same day, with a short note...

I am returning your verses to you.

Give them to someone your own age

who deserves them much more than I.

It would be unusual for any man of mine

to have a pure enough soul to understand them.

The pain, the humiliation, was unbearable...

Come in!

I wanted to die, to run away, to disappear forever...

Madame de Montfort.

Forgive me! I am unforgivable.

I didn't want to offend you, I swear. Pardon me.

How could I do that to you? Tell me you'll forgive me.

Forgive you?

It is I who should be asking forgiveness from you!

To think that I dared

I didn't want to, believe me...

I shouldn't have done it!

No, no! It's me alone! It is I who am unforgivable!

Don't say that, I beg you!

But you are soaked!

How long have you been in the rain? Come in, sit down, please.

No, I can't.

So, it's here that you write your poems?

How charming...

What is that?

A gift from my mother.

It's pretty.

Wait! I have an idea!

Come to the castle this evening.

At whatever time you want. I will be waiting for you.

I'll explain everything, you'll see...

And bring the poem.

I beg you. Bring it to me.

To prove to me that you forgive me...

Mister da Silva has arrived.

Thank you.

I must leave.

He thinks I am at Angouleme.

Go out through there.

I saw you outside, in the rain

and I burned with the desire to call you,

to go find you, to shelter you in my arms...

Why didn't you do it?

Why didn't you call me?

Because I didn't know if I had the right...

Who would refuse it?

You are free, Elisa. As free as I am.

No, Pedro, I'm not free.

I'm a prisoner of the scruples of my conscience

and the stain I have on my heart.

I don't have the right to be yours.

I don't understand you. You talk in riddles.

You're so young!

Your verses are so innocent,

so clear, so pure...

They made me feel so bad...

Bad? Why?

They only meant well...

They took me back to a time when I was also pure,

good and happy...

Before they made me unhappy and nasty.

Elisa! Not nasty!

One could make you sad. But not nasty!

My poor Pedro, if you knew!

If you knew the desires of death,

the thirst for blood that fill me for nights on end!

The wishes for vengeance that suffocate my heart

to the point of preventing it from beating,

Or allowing myself to be paralyzed for days...

In the darkest despair and impotent rage...

That is how I have lived for years, Pedro.

Since the day they robbed me of my honor,

and of the life of my only brother.

This man...

The foreigner?

They spoke to you about him! They told you...

Vaguely.

They told you he is Portuguese, like you?

No!

What is his name?

He has had many names.

Right now, he calls himself Alberto de Magalhaes.

Despite my insistence,

Elisa categorically refused to give any more details

about the shadowy story that had destroyed her life,

Yet as the night went on,

it became ever clearer to me that that man's existence

was the only obstacle to our happiness...

When the day came, my decision had been made,

I would return to Lisbon to avenge the honor of the Duchess of Cliton

and the death of her only brother...

Back at the estate, a letter from Portugal awaited me,

announcing the death of my mother,

victim of the cholera epidemic that had spread throughout the country.

By the cruel irony of fortune, my decision to return to Lisbon

was now painfully justified.

Yes?

There is a gentlemen here with a foreign air

and I told him you wouldn't receive anyone, but he insisted.

He says he is an emissary on behalf of Artur de Montfort.

He wrote his name here...

What kind of bad joke is this?

Is your Excellency the emissary of Artur de Montfort?

I am!

Artur de Montfort!!

He died nine years ago!

Indeed!

Then I gather your Excellency has come from the other world!

Are things well around there?

There the murderers rest...

Here, the murderers await their hour...

I came precisely to demand that the murderer of Artur de Montfort

answers me on the field of honor, with weapons in hand.

Demand!

With what right?

You probably never knew poor Artur.

You couldn't have been more than ten years old when he left us...

But perhaps you know his sister,

Elisa de Montfort,

the Duchess of Cliton...

Am I mistaken?

I have no intention of talking about my personal acquaintances...

I already told you why I have come.

I leave the choice of arms up to you...

And I await your response.

Very well!

If you insist!

I'm just going to send you my witnesses.

That is, if you'd be so kind as to give me your address!

It's written on the card I sent to you...

The Isidro, an excellent hotel! A wise choice...

Come here!

Arms!

Considering that neither of us had yet been wounded,

upon my insistence and despite Alberto's resistance,

it was decided to continue our duel with pistols...

Unfortunately, my dear friend,

one cannot duck bullets the way one ducks a sword.

One of us will end up staying here forever.

Isn't that the idea?

In theory, yes!

And given that I can't dissuade you to put a stop to this nonsense,

I find myself forced to suggest

that we have other means placed at our disposal.

I don't understand.

You will understand...

I'm talking about where I should give the money

that Father Dinis left me to administer on your behalf.

On my behalf?

Father Dinis... You knew him?

Strange, some things in life...

I knew Father Dinis.

And I knew you, Don Pedro.

I practically saw you being born...

I fear my dear gentlemen...

I feel we must change the agenda...

I've just spoken to my valiant opponent,

and told him some things

that have changed his mind about continuing this duel.

If he agrees, I propose to postpone this duel until a later date.

If it's not considered dishonorable on my part...

No. Not at all...

Isn't that true, gentlemen?

Come out from there, Don Pedro.

Suddenly, I felt lost.

I was once again the Joao of Father Dinis's school,

before I ever found my mother or knew my name, or my history.

A mere puppet, manipulated by invisible hands

at the mercy of some other will...

I didn't know what to do, or what decision to make.

Everything he had told me was more than convincing,

as it corresponded point by point to what I already knew

from Father Dinis' intervention to save my life

to the role played by Alberto himself

in defending the reputation of my mother against her slanderers...

But despite my insistence, he refused to reveal the origin

of the fortune he administered on my behalf, at the request of Father Dinis.

I met Elisa de Montfort, in Paris,

at a time when nothing could make me resist satisfying my whims.

She had just lost the husband who had decimated her fortune.

She was, in those days, a dangerous woman

who acted like she wanted to avenge herself in life,

and would use romance to crush the self-esteem of several men

and several women.

It was said she had provoked six duels.

To me at the time, she was an irresistible challenge...

It started as a frivolous game, and ended as a sordid bourgeois drama...

You wanted to see me?

I am at your disposal.

Just now, I heard you say that every man has his price.

Do you truly believe that?

Yes, I believe it.

That makes you laugh.

Bonaparte thought the same thing and that didn't go too well for him.

I wasn't talking about politics.

Nor of war.

Even less.

So, what were you talking about?

I was talking about business.

And of love.

Yes... of love.

You mean to say that I also have a price?

Yes Madame.

How much?

Fifty thousand.

Is that all? In that case, for only one day...

One night.

One hundred thousand.

Eighty.

Done!

I will bring the contract this afternoon.

Even now, I still ask myself if she accepted the challenge

out of a real passion for the game,

or merely for the love of money.

I had the contract written up and sent it to her.

She came that same night to my hotel...

If you please, Madame.

The contract. Signed.

She returned the signed contract to me,

and left the next morning with the 80 thousand francs

which I had most discreetly placed in her bag.

The game should have ended there.

But she returned the next night,

and the one after that,

and the one after that...

After a week she wanted to give me my money back.

For her it was no longer a game,

It became serious... I refused.

At that time,

the most serious thing was precisely the game...

I changed hotels, she found me.

I gave orders for her not to be allowed to enter,

and she left me the 80 thousand francs at the reception desk,

with a note I never read. I sent them back and moved again,

this time to an obscure inn in a populated neighborhood.

Stop, please!

I'll walk from here.

In desperation, she sent her twin brother,

Artur de Montfort,

And since then, she regularly sends someone

no matter where I am, with the mission of her vengeance.

The last time, she came herself. I guess that with time,

the thirst for vengeance became her only reason to live...

At her grave, I couldn't even cry for my mother,

whom I had seen so little while she lived,

Angela de Lima, Countess of Santa Barbara,

rested in an anonymous grave, together with scores of wretches

victims like herself, of the cholera epidemic...

Is someone there?

Her poor name was not anywhere to be seen.

Can I help you?

Oh, sir, please...

Are we in the eastern part of the cemetery?

Yes... We're in the right place... It's here...

Thank you very much.

I'm looking for the mausoleum where my daughter is...

Mausoleum?

My friends assure me it is monumental.

My friends say it is the most beautiful in the entire cemetery...

I'm unable to see it.

With the last money left from my fortune,

I had this mausoleum built...

Would you be so kind as to describe it to me?

It's beautiful, isn't it?

I don't know if I would be able...

I am the Marquis of Montezelos. What is your name?

I am a simple student, Marquis...

my mother died and I came to visit her...

So your mother is also in a mausoleum, right?

No, Marquis, my mother is in a common pauper's grave...

Poor woman.

Had I mentioned to you that I was a bad father?

No. I hadn't.

This head of mine, and now, as you see I am a beggar,

and now that we're having this conversation,

would you happen to have a small coin, for the love of God?

Of course...

Thank you very much...

Marquis, your friends are waiting for you...

Poor Marquis.

He's lost his mind...

The accident...

He had an accident?

It wasn't an accident... more of a failed suicide attempt...

His daughter's dishonor...

What to us are the things of life, are enormous tragedies to the nobility...

He fired the shot as they left the Mass.

He didn't kill himself, but he was blinded.

He wasted away the fortune and people were moved by this sadness.

They were moved by a beggar Marquis and still give him a lot of money.

That's the blessing of beggars...

Even in disgrace,

the nobles are favored.

And the mausoleum?

The mausoleum doesn't exist. It was an invention of the Marquis...

Where are you, Manuel?

I'm here, Marquis.

I'll be right there!

Please excuse me...

I've heard that Alberto de Magalhaes has enjoyed excellent health.

You lacked courage my dear.

And I, whose heart you once possessed...

My life no longer made any sense.

My only thought was to disappear, to lose myself quickly, completely,

and without a trace...

I caught the first boat I found, bound for Tangiers,

which allowed me to board for the coins I still had in my pocket...

One soon discovers that it is not difficult

to disappear from the eyes of others,

but that our own eyes follow us wherever we go.

I continued to travel randomly, aimlessly, to lose myself.

I don't know how,

but the representatives of Alberto Magalhaes

never lost my trail

and I continued to regularly receive the money intended for me.

My footsteps have finally led me here.

I don't think I can go any further.

My condition doesn't allow me many illusions.

Excuse me,

could you kindly direct me to an inn that is far from the center of town?

That won't be easy. Most of our inns are right in the center.

In that case, I'll have to settle for the closest.

This is the closest.

Thank you.

I was fifteen years old and I didn't know who I was at all...

Sometimes, the others would ask me if I was Father Dinis' son...

I didn't know how to answer them.

They all had surnames...

Four, five, even more...

I was just "Joao."

Unlike the others,

I went on no outings,

had no holidays, received no presents.

I don't know how long had passed between the time I lost consciousness...

and the moment I opened my eyes again...

I thought I had dreamt it all.

Dona Antonia...

Help him lie down.

Father Dinis!

He is cold.

We'd better find a doctor! I'll order the coach to be readied.